Happy Valentines Day

Sunset from Our Balcony

                Today we celebrate St. Valentine’s Day, and I must say that this one is very different to the first one I celebrated in England, back in 1988.  A pronounced difference in mind-set existed between Americans and the British. 

          Let me explain the background of my first British Valentines’ Day.  I arrived at Holmsted Manor in January 1988, one of three Americans in a group of about 35 people registered to participate in a Discipleship Training School; Youth With A Mission’s foundational training programme.

          Holmsted Manor sits out in a rural area, off Staplefield Road in Cuckfield, West Sussex.  The house was built in 1891, and had several owners before Youth With A Mission bought it in 1975, with the first Discipleship Training School (DTS) starting at that location in 1976. 

YWAM has a “No Dating” policy in place for all students attending Discipleship Training Schools.  Although many people have found their future spouses while participating in a DTS, the students are asked to defer developing “romantic” relationships for the duration of the training.  This is a reasonable request, as the DTS lasts between four and six months.  I will qualify this by saying that if a couple come to a DTS and they are already engaged, then that is acceptable.  But the focus of a DTS is to focus on getting to know God and learn how to share the gospel.

In November of 1987 I ended an engagement.  I had met “D.E.”  through working in the same office as him.  But I realised that “D.E.” was not the right person, so the relationship ended.  It was a painful time, and I was going through the grief process.  Yet I knew that my time in England was a special time for me and my relationship with God. 

Each day the community of YWAM staff and students met for lunch and supper in the dining room.  The dining room was to the left as you walked into the manor.  There were floor-to-ceiling windows, a bay window in the back and parquet floors.  Wooden tables and chairs provided seating, six at a table. 

Against the background noise of cutlery dinging on china, tea cups being placed on saucers and chairs scooting against the wooden floor, there was chatter.  Often you would hear laughter at other tables.  We swapped stories, learned about each other and our different cultures.

We were three or four weeks into the lecture phase of the DTS, and Valentine’s Day was approaching.   Americans believe in “including everybody”—so I mentioned that I was having trouble finding a Valentines’ day card for my Mom and one for my sister. 

WELL …imagine my surprise when I was immediately reproved. 

“Valentines Day is only for couples!”  The Brits were adamant! 

“But Valentine’s Day is about love.  And what about people who aren’t married, or in a relationship?”

“It doesn’t matter!  Valentines is for romance!”  

“Okay.”  I resigned myself.  But I still made a card for my Mom and sent it.  

I’ve had several Valentine’s Days since then.  I think the Brits have become a little more relaxed about sharing loving messages with family and good friends.  But the emphasis is still on romance.

I’m glad that God has given us the gift of romance.  I’m amazed and astounded that the Creator of the Universe is head-over-heels in love with me.  And I’m thankful the Lord has blessed me with my own husband; a husband who makes most days Valentine’s Day.

Serving Jesus, Author of our faith,

"Lady Helene"

Thirteen--unlucky? Absolutley Not! Very blessed instead!

Blisteringly cold wind greeted us on the morning of Saturday, 18^th January 2003. The sun dazzled off the snow, but had no warmth.   The re-frozen slush on the church parking lot scrunched and cracked as I pulled the car to a halt.  I was the first to arrive.  I knew I would need the time to get ready.

Besides my friends and family in Indiana, friends were coming from Illinois to attend a long awaited wedding.  My mother and I had been waiting for this day all my adult life.  In the quiet of the church I suddenly became overwhelmed with exhaustion, excitement and insecurity.  This was my wedding day, to" My Midnight Man". 

I had no doubts that I loved" Midnight Man," no doubts that I wanted to be married to him.  But on that day, thirteen years ago, I was starting a new chapter:  the stress of getting a visa after the wedding;  flying to a place I’d never been before; meeting John’s daughter, his friends with him being my only support system was a huge step.  But, like most brides, emotion overcame me and I cried. With the help on my bridesmaids I got through the moment. 

The mind is an amazing organism in what it can recall so clearly—even though it is years later.  I remember the weather changing quickly.  It was bitter, biting wind with sun at 9.30 am when I arrived at the church.  By 1.30 pm, the clouds had rolled in and we had snow.  It danced and blew like the snow in a glitter ball.  By 9.00 pm, when we left the reception, the clouds had nearly cleared, with small ones skittering along the blue-black night.  And the moon was silver white, full and beaming.  

The groom being prepared

The Bride being laced up.

Our vows completed.

A hug with that kiss.

Mr. & Mrs. walking into our new life.

Today it is just above freezing, and sunny.  But we have no snow.  Thirteen years have rushed by.  When “Maverick” and I got married, there were eight grandchildren; now there are twenty.  Thirteen years ago we worshiped at Hillsong Church, London.  Now we worship at a Church of England church.  Those are the kind of things that change.  But our love had also changed—deepened, strengthened, matured.  

No thirteen means another year of God’s grace we have been given.  We are blessed.  We rejoice!

Serving Jesus, Author of our faith,

"Lady Helene"

This Saturday just past...

              

  I took an old-fashioned walk today.  What is an old-fashioned walk?  I went without a mobile phone, no heavy rucksack and no particular destination in mind.  Actually, I had a little errand to perform—posting a letter at a local pillar box.  But that part of the walk was over in about 10 minutes. 

                I truly admire people who love to go out walking, just for the sake of walking.  I confess to enjoying sitting at home, watching a film on television, or reading a book or sewing.  The Maverick is a person who enjoys being active.  He uses up so much energy at work, and doing favours for others, that when he does sit down on our couch, he frequently is overtaken with sleep. 

                Although the sky was blanketed over by grey clouds, it wasn’t raining when I went out this morning.  Now, into the early afternoon, it is raining; soft, soaking, tiny droplets of rain, decorating the windows like wet glitter.  It’s so soft, you can’t hear it.  Yet, watching it is restful, peaceful.  It makes it’s a good tool for meditating.  Autumn is hinting at her arrival.

                Sometimes when I’m out walking, I think of so much I want to write, to share.  But then I get home and it seems my ideas have flown away, like a flock of geese heading to warmer climates for the winter.

                The Maverick works some crazy shifts—which means I go places by myself.  Sometimes I feel like a singleton.  Thankfully, that feeling doesn’t last for long.  This past Saturday, (7^th September,) I went to a wedding by myself.  Thankfully the bride and groom attend St. Mary’s, so there were friends to sit with. 

         

After the ceremony

       Each time I go to a wedding, I mentally repeat the vows along with the bride—reaffirming my commitment to The Maverick and my family.  Not a bad thing to do.  Especially when I think about my life and know I would certainly marry The Maverick again.

                The Lord blessed the Wedding Day with sun, a day of perfect warmth.  The wedding was at 3.00 pm, but the reception was at 7.30 pm.  I came home after the ceremony, having arranged for a lift to the reception later.  And since The Maverick finished his shift at 3.00pm, he was home by the time I arrived home.

The reception—being held at a cricket club house—being scheduled for 7.30 pm,  meant that The Maverick had time to get home, rest, shower and then be ready to go out to the party.  I must admit, The Maverick was very handsome.  Spending time chatting with friends, listening to music, eating nibbles and enjoying whilst watching the children run around, allowed opportunity to deepen friendships.  Since we caught a ride with the Vicar and his wife, and it was a Saturday night, we left about 9.30 pm.  This meant all of us could get good sleep before Sunday morning. 

                I’ll write more about Sunday later.

Serving Jesus, Author of our faith,

“Lady Helene”

The True Measure of Love

        Observation has told me that for some women the measure of a man is whether he could compete to grace the cover of Gentlemen’s Quarterly.  Other women are less concerned about a man’s fashion sense (as long as he’s well groomed) and more concerned with character. 

        The actions of My Midnight Man [MMM] have never left me in doubt of his devotion—even his pleasure in caring for me.  And at 2:00 a.m. this morning (Tuesday, 22^nd Feb) he was showing me the true level of his servant heart. 

Back-up Glasses

        Yesterday my bifocals went AWOL (Away With Out Leave).  I remember having them on shortly after my shower.  With a towel wrapped turban-style around my head, getting them onto my face required minor adjustments to the towel.  I’d put them on to read the cooking label on a package of pre-fried chicken MMM had purchased for dinner.  He sussed out the instructions with the help of a magnifying glass, which left me being redundant.  So I went back to my office to attend to some business on the computer.  The towel became heavy on my head, so I remember taking it off.  What I don’t remember is when I took off my bifocals--or more importantly, WHERE I put them. 

         I’d only discovered that my bifocals were missing after we’d eaten and John was busy coaching Daughter #2 via a phone call.  These errant spectacles were not in the black case I keep on my desk.  They weren’t near the keyboard.  Nor were they sitting on the monitor stand.  Thus began my quest for the newest pair of glasses I own. 

        I re-traced my steps into the kitchen...not there.  I checked the usual perching spots in our bedroom.   I have a habit of taking them off at the dining table when I eat and laying them at the end.  Table was clear...no glasses of any kind.  I took a rest from searching to watch a little television.

        On a break from studying MMM walked into the lounge.  I expressed my frustration, and my total mystification at the disappearance of my bifocals.  About ten minutes later I see a spot light in the hallway.  MMM has his super-sized torch (flashlight) out and is scouting under the dining table, on the window ledge, all around my office and our bedroom.  Sweeping the beam left and right, he checked under the beds, under the desks, down the side of the cooker and the fridge.  No glasses.

        It was well after midnight when I got into bed.  As I lay there thinking, I remembered I’d gotten into the medicine box which holds various pain killers.  So, I got up to see if I’d dropped them into that box.  Plenty of aspirin, other over-the-counter pain relievers and prescriptions for John’s back.  But no bifocals. 

        MMM came in while I was checking there.  I told him I was giving up and going back to bed.  By now it was after 2:00 a.m. and I told myself that obsessing about it when I should be sleeping was foolish.  While MMM stretched his full height to check the shelves where the medicine boxes are kept, I told him that I was going to go through the kitchen rubbish bin (trash can) later. 

        And so, it was at that point that My Midnight Man most truly followed the Servant example of Jesus.  Instead of washing my feet, MMM donned a pair of rubber gloves and diligently sorted through the refuse in an attempt to find the missing eyewear.  The search was fruitless—although the smell was certainly ripe!  But my mind was alleviated in knowing I had not accidently thrown them into the bin.  I had been distracted enough by a headache! 

        I’m reminded of the woman who lost a silver coin. 

        “Or what woman, having ten [silver] drachmas [each one equal to a day’s wages], if she loses one coin, does not light a lamp and sweep in house and look carefully and diligently until she finds it?  And when she has found it, she summons her [women] friends and neighbours, saying ‘Rejoice with me, for I have found the silver coin which I had lost.’”  Luke 15:8-9

        The “new” glasses are still missing.  I always keep the old pair of glasses for a back-up.  I’m so glad because I wouldn’t be able to read or do any thing that required close up work. 

        The eyewear must be in the flat.  John and I looking and praying.  In the meantime, I am thankful.  Thankful that I still have two pair of back-up glasses.  I’m thankful that God is God and that I can trust Him.  And I am especially grateful for a husband who serves me so selflessly, just as Jesus would.  MMM constantly proves that the measure of a man is not his clothing, but his actions.  

Serving Jesus, Author of our faith.