Lavish Love Stories

It's been a long, long time since I've written in this blog.  8 years since my last post.  

My eldest daughter, Eva, is 8 years old and my youngest daughter, Emma, is 6.  I've been teaching nursing students and also going to Bible Study Fellowship every year.  

We had our celebration/share day this morning at BSF and even though I've been attending BSF on and off for over 10 years, I have never gone up to share until now.  Not that I didn't have things to say... I probably did... I just let that heart-thumping prompting come and go and allowed other people to share.  This year though... I had a feeling I should just push myself to do it so I did.  

I sat in the car after dropping off the kids and made every excuse I could think of all the while trying to prepare what to say.  I sifted through text messages, emails... my giant BSF handbook, the notes I took... the more I looked back, the more I realized that God was using seemingly unrelated events and people to slowly work on me, to present me with ideas or opportunities, to build up to this moment and it was amazing to just sit and remember.  

I started writing because I am not great verbally.  Writing has always come easier.  When Anderson and I went to Texas, people asked for prayer requests and updates.  I would email one person and then they would forward that around.  I decided that was inefficient so I started a google group so whoever signed up would get the most current update directly from me.  The prayer requests would change very little day to day but we had updates on what was going on and also God was teaching us things along the way so I wrote them out alongside our prayer requests.  It began to be a daily or even multiple-times-daily thing where I'd send out updates and prayer requests as events were unfolding.  After Anderson passed away, I was in such a habit of writing out what was on my heart that I kept writing.  It became therapy for me.  I worked night shift as my first nursing job and mostly tried to keep a night shift schedule on days I wasn't working so ease the transition when I did work.  Since I was awake a lot during the wee hours of the morning, it was a good time of solitude and reflection in front of my computer screen.  Those hours when I would write and write and write would be moments where God was working on my heart.  I would pour out whatever came up and He would come in and speak into my life.  It was a precious, valuable season of my life.  

I wrote so much that in 2010, I got asked to write an article for Inheritance magazine, which was also translated to Chinese, and because of that article, I was asked to go on a talk show called The Upper Room where our story was recorded.  I have shared that interview countless times to people and it's helped break down barriers in communication and has facilitated much deeper conversations with people I've just met than anything else in my life.  

My friend Erwin has a blog and a podcast and I think I've been suggesting that people go on his podcast for many years to share their stories.  I suppose this is the year where all that changed.  

BSF was the only time I took out an actual pen and physically took notes in recent years.  I had tried going digital to save paper and space but I found out that I am much more likely to read the notes if it's printed out and I'm much more likely to pay attention in lecture if I'm physically writing things down.  August 2025, I decided to start carrying around a journal again.  I used to carry a journal to church when I was younger and in my childhood bedroom, I had stacks of journals in a drawer.  It was fun to go back and read about what I was struggling with and what I was learning and praying about back then.  I figure... why not start again now?  

I started carrying a journal to church again and forcing myself to pay attention during the sermons.  If something came up that I wanted to do, I would write that down in a to-do list for that week.  If I had something I wanted to pray about, I would write those down too.  If I was going through a conflict with a friend or in my marriage, I would write that out too.  Weekly, I'd open up that journal and look back at the previous week's prayer requests or thoughts and then update them again for the current week.  This year, my husband and I finally did Comfort Circles and holding time (a communication exercise from HowWeLove which I read about on Erwin's CaringBridge Blog) and I wrote out our comfort circles in the journal as well. Writing things down has been key this year.  I don't just have an idea and forget about it.  I wrote it down so I could revisit and build on it in the future.  

This year's BSF study was on Exile and Return, covering the time period when the Israelites were in captivity and their eventual return, rebuilding of the temple and the rebuilding of the wall around it.  I felt like every week, God spoke to me regarding whatever it was I was struggling with that week but looking over the past year, I've highlighted some notable quotes/messages.  

On September 8, 2025, when Shadrach, Meshach, and Abed-Nego or Hananiah, Mishael, and Azariah went into the fiery furnace... they went in bound and came out free.  That fire that was meant to destroy them, actually set them free.  They were untouched by the smoke and they actually walked around and talked to Jesus IN the furnace.  No one loves suffering, but if during those times, we are the closest and most dependent on God for survival... and if our lives are touched and forever changed by meeting Jesus... isn't it worth it?  

He is no fool who gives what he cannot keep to gain what he cannot lose -Jim Elliot.  

I know the story of Esther from Sunday School as a child.  This time around, what stood out to me was all the seemingly random things that had to happen to get Esther to the place where she could approach the king, as queen, and save her people from genocide.  She was orphaned.  She was taken into captivity.  She was taken into a beauty pageant/harem type situation and sacrificed her life to be part of this search for the new queen of Persia.  She had conversations with her cousin/adopted dad, Mordecai, through messengers, challenging her to step up and plead with the king.  

Esther 4:14 For if you keep silent at this time, relief and deliverance will rise for the Jews from another place, but you and your father's house will perish. And who knows whether you have not come to the kingdom for such a time as this?” 

So she stepped up and did it.  She asked all her household and all the Jews to fast and pray with her.  Previously, her heritage had been hidden but I'm guessing that after this, all the Jews and most of the household knew that she was a Jew.  Meanwhile, Haman is plotting to kill all the Jews in Persia by tricking the king into signing a decree allowing for genocide of the Jews.  He goes on thinking he's winning at life.  Esther fasts and prays and then presents herself to the king (potentially risking death) and asks him to join her for a banquet and invites Haman.  I used to wonder why Esther didn't just straight up ask the king.  Why did it take two banquets before she asked?  But I see now how timing is everything.  After the first feast, the king asked Esther what she wanted and Esther said to have another feast the next day and then she'll tell him what she wants.  Haman leaves the banquet all happy but when he sees Mordecai, he got angry again and builds a gallows specifically to hang him.  That very night, the king gets insomnia and asks for someone to read the book of memorable events in his reign and finds out that Mordecai saved him from an assassination attempt but was never rewarded for it. 

Esther 6:4 And the king said, “Who is in the court?” Now Haman had just entered the outer court of the king's palace to speak to the king about having Mordecai hanged on the gallows[b] that he had prepared for him. 5 And the king's young men told him, “Haman is there, standing in the court.” And the king said, “Let him come in.” 6 So Haman came in, and the king said to him, “What should be done to the man whom the king delights to honor?” And Haman said to himself, “Whom would the king delight to honor more than me?”

So then Haman tells the king what he wants for himself, which is to be paraded around the entire kingdom dressed up and on the king's horse, but he himself has to do the parading around but for Mordecai!  He's humbled but not repentant... he's humiliated!  He goes home and tells his family what happened and they change their tune.  Yesterday they were egging him on to build a gallows to hang Mordecai and today they're like "uh oh... you're not winning... Mordecai is a Jew and you're going to fall apart in front of him".  And then right after that, the king's people picked him up to go to the queen's banquet... where Esther humiliates him again, revealing that SHE is a Jew and that Haman is trying to murder her and her people.  Long story short, the king gets mad, orders Haman to be hanged on the gallows he built for Mordecai and Esther and Mordecai figure out how the Jews can be saved.  They have the king issue another decree allowing the Jews to arm themselves and they ended up killing a ton of their enemies but not taking plunder.  Mordecai ends up second in command in the kingdom, he took over Haman's house, and was a great leader because he advocated for his people and spoke peace.  

Mordecai heard of a plot against the king's life and he spoke up and saved the king.  He was just a guard at the gate and then because one thing led to another, ended up second in command.  I'm definitely not looking to be ruler of anything, but what spoke to me was that he advocated for his people and spoke peace.  

On page 175 of my giant BSF book, I highlighted this part of the notes:

We often opt for passivity, hesitating to risk our comfort for God's cause and the eternal well-being of others.  

On January 12, 2026, I wrote down in my BSF notes from Nicky Sweeney's lecture:

God calls us to live purposeful lives for Him.  Our stories aren't written in the Bible but our stories can demonstrate expression of our faith. 

Our stories.  My story.  It might not go in the Bible but it can be documented.  Maybe so they can be comforted as I have been comforted.  That day, I messaged Erwin that I had an idea to record widow stories.  Just like someone had recorded mine, I had an idea to help record others' stories so they can easily share them with others and also to help others learn how to care for those who are grieving.  At this point, I just thought I would help Erwin do it.  

On February 2, 2026, I wrote down, "God's people accomplish God's call by the power of the Holy Spirit" as we were learning about the book of Zechariah from Nicky's lecture.  God equips and empowers.  I remember thinking about it and wondering how is this going to get done?  I thought about making a worksheet with questions that the widow can look through and prepare ahead of time so I made that. I remember as I was typing that worksheet, I thought... "that was fast".  I'd finished it really quickly.  Now... how am I going to get these recorded?  I thought about asking a film student or something to help with the technical parts.  By the end of February, I asked my friend, Joy, who has her own widow story, to zoom with me while the girls were at swimming lessons to go over her story and try out the worksheet questions.  We scheduled her zoom for March 16th.  

BSF started the book of Nehemiah end of February/early March.  Nehemiah really pushed me to step out of my comfort zone and just do it.  At the beginning of the book, Nehemiah hears about Jerusalem and how the walls are broken down and the city is unprotected.  He was a cupbearer to the king at the time.  I just imagine him thinking about it, standing next to the king... wondering... who's going to build this wall?  And at some point... he must have thought... someone else can do it... but then at another point... he also must have thought... why not me?  Then the king asked him why he looked so sad.. and then Nehemiah told him and asked if he could leave his job as cupbearer and go build the wall, plus can I have supplies and an escort and documents.  If anything, standing next to the king as a cupbearer while a bunch of people try and ask for funds and resources... he must have learned something.  

I've been to a lot of zooms.  I've done recordings for school.  I must have learned something over the years.  While Joy and I were doing her widow story over zoom, I thought... the recording doesn't need to be fancy.  Of course, it would be lovely to get dressed up and do a recording in a garden or some place beautiful, but the effort it would take to schedule that and get it accomplished... I might just give up.  So I thought... I can just record zoom meetings.  It won't be cinematically beautiful but that's not the point.  While she was telling her story, I wished that we had some visuals so I could picture my friend and her husband as she talked about them so I decided to create a powerpoint template with the questions and with a place for pictures.  After Joy's interview, she wanted to hear my story so I decided to fill out the worksheet and find pictures for my own powerpoint.  On April 16th, we tried to record my story but the record button wasn't there and I couldn't find it.  I almost gave up at that point but Joy said to just keep trying and after an hour of restarting, logging in and out, and then clicking through 3 webpages of settings to find the one button that would allow me to record... we finally found it.  On April 30th, we recorded my story on zoom.  

It's not perfect.  It's a work in progress.  I've sent it to my BSF group and have gotten a lot of encouragement thus far.  It's started and already accomplishing its work.  

I was really encouraged by Nehemiah's no-nonsense approach to the problems that came up.  He didn't write down any whining or excuses.  He pointed out a problem and then they went and fixed it.  Say it, do it, done.  I can come up with so many excuses in my own mind for this or that but Nehemiah said it, did it and it got done so I can do it too.  

Sometimes I'm afraid to put it out there because then I can't back out.  If no one knows I'm working on it, then no one will ask me about it and if i don't make progress, then no one will ever know... but God knows.  For BSF sharing, I thought I should do it.  And then I thought... maybe not.  Maybe I should write things down.  But everything I'm writing down isn't really coalescing.  When sharing time started, my heart started to pound.  People started lining up.  I thought... maybe if no one lines up then I'll go... but people kept lining up.  Maybe I'll go after the kids go.  But then I started crying when the little girl started reciting Psalm 23.  Maybe I'll go when I stop crying.  And then a lady came up and said that every little bit of the wall counts and makes a difference so show up and build.  So I got up and sat in line to share.  I sat in the chair furthest away from the podium and immediately started crying.  Everyone else can go before me.  I cried and couldn't stop crying and when it was my turn to talk, I started crying even harder.  Maybe it's good to cry because then your eyes get blurry and you can't really see people anymore.  So I talked through the crying and shared about my struggle and about how this year I'm going to stop making excuses and just do it.  I shared that I was doing widow stories with everyone at BSF which means... I've said it, I'm doing it, I wrote it out and it will get done.  

If you or anyone you know would like to have a story documented, please reach out and let me know!  lavishlovestories@gmail.com

<3,

Tiff

Dear Strawberry... and the stones

I started this post on 9/27/17 and never finished it.  Almost a year has gone by.  Everyone says it goes by really fast and it surely did. 

I was sitting on the couch yesterday and realized... there's a tiny human sleeping on my chest.  This tiny human used to be inside my belly and now she's outside... how amazing.

Before my daughter was born, we called her Strawberry.  It was actually kind of an inside joke between me and my husband because he doesn't like strawberries so I joked that I would name our daughter Strawberry so he would have to say, "I love Strawberry!"  Eventually, that's what we came to refer to her as.  We still call her that sometimes.

It's been a few weeks since Strawberry (AKA Evangeline Grace Wong) was served her eviction notice by my OB.  We thought the eviction would go smoothly.  My OB even let her stay in a week longer than she intended because everything seemed to be going so well.  Everything ended up okay but there were a few hairy moments right after she was born.  I'll just start writing my thoughts from the day before the induction.

I was overdue.  She was supposed to come somewhere around 9/3/17 but that day came and went... and nothing happened.  Day after day... nothing happened.  Thursday early morning, I thought my water broke.  I woke up in a little puddle and my underwear was all wet... but more didn't come and I didn't have any contractions.  We debated going to the hospital.  We actually had planned on getting breakfast together since my husband was going to take the day off work.  We went to breakfast and then I decided we should just go to the hospital to get checked out.  Couldn't hurt.  They checked me and they said my water hadn't broken yet.  They called the OB to see if she wanted to induce me on Thursday instead of Friday as scheduled... but she said no and to let me go home and come back the next morning.

I was doing everything I could that entire week to start labor naturally but it seemed like Strawberry just didn't want to come out.  I wondered if this was going to be her personality.  I wondered what she was going to be like.  I wondered what labor would feel like.  I recently looked at my Safari browser history and kind of smiled at all the web pages I looked up the night before the induction.  "What does labor feel like?" "How to induce labor naturally" "What does your water breaking feel like?" "What does a mucous plug look like?" Etc. etc.  I couldn't sleep.  I kept wondering what everything was going to be like.  I definitely didn't anticipate it going down like it did.

Friday morning, we woke up around 5 something and made it to the hospital 10 minutes before 6am.  We checked in to the hospital... got situated in our room... met the night shift nurse... and then the day shift nurse.  They started an IV.  I hadn't had an IV in me since... I was really young.  I think I had an oral surgery when I was maybe 10?  They started the Pitocin at 2 and said they would go up by 2 every 30 minutes.  I didn't feel a thing.  She got up to 10 and I think the contractions were coming too quickly so she backed it down to 8 and left it there.  It was maybe 11am and I started to feel twinges of something.  If this is what labor is... it isn't so bad... or so I thought at the time.

I wasn't opposed to getting the epidural.  I did want to see how it felt before deciding one way or the other.  Around 12 pm, the pain started getting more intense.  I made a whole bunch of essential oil roller balls labeled with what to use them for.  There were some oils I made for pain, back labor, peacefulness... I tried them... but I don't know if any essential oil could stand up to the effects of pitocin and/or the fact that God told Eve that as a result of her disobedience in the garden of Eden that the pain in childbirth would be greatly increased.  In fact, that phrase kept playing over and over again in my mind with every contraction.  "I will greatly increase your pain in childbirth".  I tried to think positive thoughts.  I tried to tell myself, "you can do this... it's only temporary" but for reals, all I could think about was, "I will greatly increase your pain in childbirth".  I thought it might have been God, but actually maybe it was the Pitocin in the IV that was taunting me the whole time.

I'm not sure what regular childbirth feels like.  Labor with Pitocin was absolutely the worst pain I'd ever experienced.  I thought I was going to either pass out or die with every contraction.  I threw up a few times.  As I was throwing up, I remembered that someone in the past... maybe in nursing school... told me not to give the patient red jello because sometimes you can't really tell if they're bleeding or not.  I had red jello and it came up.  I was pretty sure I wasn't bleeding though.

It was maybe 2pm and I was pondering whether or not I should get the epidural... or at least a pain pill or something.  By then, I was just looking forward to when the contractions would let up so I could rest or breathe again.  And then another would come.  I was thankful the doula was there.  It was helpful to have someone explain what was going on in a calm voice.  She suggested a lot of position changes.  Thankfully, I was on the wireless monitor so I was able to move around on my own and go to the bathroom without having to get all tangled in the wires.  I was the first person my nurse had used the wireless monitor on.  She said they just got them in a few days ago.

Sometime around 3pm the pain was so unbearable I was seriously thinking about pain relief, but they checked me and said that I was 8cm dilated... almost there... I knew that if I got the epidural, the labor could be delayed and I just wanted her out of me ASAP so I figured... I'll just stick it out a little bit longer and it'll be done.  My doula suggested I go sit on the toilet to help open up my pelvis a little bit more... so that's what we did.  I labored on the toilet for a while... I don't know how long.  Then the nurse came in and said that the baby was off the monitor.  I was sweating from head to toe and hunched on the toilet so I wasn't surprised that the monitor leads were falling off.  The contractions were coming so fast that it was difficult to find a time to get me back to the bed so they could put the monitor on.  Once I did get back to bed, it was all chaos from then on out.  They told me later on that they couldn't find her heartbeat and when they did, it was around 60.  Maybe 20 people rushed into the room and everyone was yelling at me... get on all 4's! Put your head down! Get on your back! Scoot to the edge of the bed! I was in so much pain, I just did what the loudest voice told me to do.  They said they were going to use the vacuum.  And then my OB ran in and told me to push.  Then she told me to push without screaming.  So I did.

It was maybe 4 pushes and then she was out.  The pain went from like a level 15 to maybe level 2... and I just closed my eyes and rested in bed.  I thought people said that once you see the baby, you don't remember the pain anymore.  I'm pretty sure once the baby was out, the pain just went away.  They didn't put her on my chest right away.  They took her to the heater thing across the room.  I wondered if something was wrong.  I did hear her crying.  I heard someone say they were thinking of taking her to the NICU (neonatal intensive care unit) but that they were waiting for someone to do something.  I was so thirsty.  I asked for a popsicle.  My OB said I could have 10 popsicles for getting through an induction without the epidural.  I just wanted a popsicle... and some Lays original potato chips.  They gave me saltine crackers instead.

Halfway through the saltine crackers, I started to feel nauseous.  They started asking me questions... asking what my doctor's name was... where am I... I was able to answer them.  I was just so tired.  And I was still in the labor room.  I thought we were supposed to go to another room...

I asked why we were still in this room.  They told me my blood pressure was low.  I asked how low.  They said... well... it's in the 70's and 80's but they did see it go as low as 69.  Oh my.  They had already given me 2 liters of fluid but my OB told me that I was super swollen.  She'd just seen me two days prior and I didn't look like this.  I didn't know what I looked like.  Probably terrible.  And I was hungry.  So hungry.

The OB made a deal with me... if I let them put a central line in me, she'd let me have a banana.  I signed the consent.  For a banana.  Just kidding.  They transferred me to the ICU.  In the next 24 hours (in no particular order), I got an echocardiogram, lower extremity Doppler, spiral CT, pelvic CT, 2 units of blood, a femoral central line, a Foley catheter, a whole bunch of labs... a whole bunch of failed IV start attempts... maybe some other stuff... but I did get that banana.  And Strawberry never had to go to the NICU.

I barely got to see my baby the first few days in the hospital.  They brought her up to the ICU a few times a day.  They told me to rest and that I needed to take care of myself.  I was on bed rest... so I couldn't go anywhere.  All I remember doing was sleeping and pumping.  And I remember the pain.  Felt like someone had taken a bat to my groin area... and sometimes it also felt like someone had stabbed me down there and left the knife in.  If I was really still, there wouldn't be any pain.  The moment I tried to move, the pain would hit me.  I think I got a few Motrin here and there.

After the second day in the ICU, they took the central line out, took out the foley, got me up in a chair and eating... and then transferred me to the high risk maternity unit.  I guess I was high risk.  I felt much better.  I walked for the first time in a few days.

Aaaaand... that's where I left off.  It's now September of 2018 and rereading my birthing story... I still remember it so vividly.  I guess it was only a year ago but I still remember.  I remember the pain.  I remember the "baby blues".  I remember what it felt like to breastfeed the first few months... if my heart stops one day and I'm lucky enough to have someone defibrillate me, I wonder if I'll be conscious enough to feel what it's like to have electricity slamming your body with enough Joules to restart that brilliantly designed... hunk of muscle that has been beating nonstop since I was just a blob of cells organizing myself into a human in my mom's belly.  Anyway.  That's what I thought breastfeeding felt like... getting defibrillated every few hours for the first month of my baby's life.  Thankfully it doesn't hurt anymore.  Except when you have a clogged duct or when your baby scratches you with her razor sharp fingernails. 

I've wanted to write many times since the baby was born... but what could I say that hadn't already been said a million times before?  My journey is not new... it's not special... it's been fairly... uneventful and yet so full of blessings and miracles... healing and joy. 

Joshua 4

4 Then Joshua called the twelve men whom he had appointed from the children of Israel, one man from every tribe; 5 and Joshua said to them: “Cross over before the ark of the Lord your God into the midst of the Jordan, and each one of you take up a stone on his shoulder, according to the number of the tribes of the children of Israel, 6 that this may be a sign among you when your children ask in time to come, saying, ‘What do these stones mean to you?’ 7 Then you shall answer them that the waters of the Jordan were cut off before the ark of the covenant of the Lord; when it crossed over the Jordan, the waters of the Jordan were cut off. And these stones shall be for a memorial to the children of Israel forever.” 

9 Then Joshua set up twelve stones in the midst of the Jordan, in the place where the feet of the priests who bore the ark of the covenant stood; and they are there to this day.18 And it came to pass, when the priests who bore the ark of the covenant of the Lord had come from the midst of the Jordan, and the soles of the priests’ feet touched the dry land, that the waters of the Jordan returned to their place and overflowed all its banks as before.19 Now the people came up from the Jordan on the tenth day of the first month, and they camped in Gilgal on the east border of Jericho. 20 And those twelve stones which they took out of the Jordan, Joshua set up in Gilgal. 21 Then he spoke to the children of Israel, saying: “When your children ask their fathers in time to come, saying, ‘What are these stones?’ 22 then you shall let your children know, saying, ‘Israel crossed over this Jordan on dry land’; 23 for the Lord your God dried up the waters of the Jordan before you until you had crossed over, as the Lord your God did to the Red Sea, which He dried up before us until we had crossed over, 24 that all the peoples of the earth may know the hand of the Lord, that it is mighty, that you may fear the Lord your God forever.”

One of my devotionals recently had talked about these memorial stones.  The devotional struck deep in my heart for a few reasons.  First, the imagery of crossing over the Jordan has been incredibly impactful in my life.  It taught me what faith is.  When I was at ANY major crossroads in my life, I imagined myself standing on one side of the Jordan river... gazing over at the promised land and awaiting my turn to cross.  When I was young, all I saw was milk and honey... didn't pay attention to the giants not because I had great faith, but probably because my eyes were blinded.  As I grew older and I thought that life with Anderson was my promised land... I was stopped short yet again.  I was gifted a glimpse of an abundant life, but sent back... forever changed.  In my widowhood, I felt like my back was to the promised land and all I could see was dry, barren desert.  There were moments where I had no resolve to even hold up my head... my eyes were fixed to the ground... not knowing when or if I would ever get to cross over.  Was this to be my life?  Single until the day I join Anderson in the clouds?  It was a battle to wait.  The years felt long... but the promises and the blessings did not take long to fulfill once my time had come.  

Crossing the Jordan river and entering into the promised land with my promised man happened quickly.  Evangeline Grace Wong also came very quickly.  And now... it's a different kind of battle... the battle to claim the victory that has already been promised me.  Does it even feel like a battle when you know that stepping out with your sword in faith means that you're already going to win?  

Going back to the memorial stones... Joshua set up stones in the middle of the Jordan river when they were crossing over on dry land... and then again on the other side in the promised land.  Once the Israelites crossed over and the priests' soles hit the bank of the Jordan, the waters began flowing again and covered up the rocks set up on the riverbed.  It's OK though... because there's an identical set on dry ground.  When my children ask me about the rocks on the dry ground, I am to point their eyes towards the Jordan and remind them of the rocks that are there... the ones they cannot see, but have faith that they are there.  Those rocks are to remind our children and our children's children about how God delivered us out of slavery from Egypt through miracles and plagues... and then years and years of waiting... with more miracles throughout... and more miracles by parting the red sea... and another miracle in parting the Jordan river so we could enter into our inheritance in this promised land.  The memorial stones hit me hard because... now I have a child who will grow up and who I WANT to ask me about these stones that are out in plain view.  I want her to ask me what they mean and I want to share my stories with her... about these stones and the stones of the past that are hidden under the water.  She won't be able to see them, but she will know they are there... I hope.  

Motherhood has been a very new and different adventure in my life.  Most of the time it's a lot of mundane repetition.  It's a lot of work and sacrifice... and I can't even complain because I have a pretty good baby.  I do sometimes feel lost though.  When you're forging a new identity... you could start wiping something clean and then forget what it looked like before... and then have moments of terror when you think that perhaps who you were before has been lost forever.  

These rocks... are my anchors.  They're heavy but they also keep me grounded.  Who I was is never lost because who I am cannot be taken away.  The essence of my spirit, my character, my heart... is hidden deep in the heart of my Heavenly Father who uses the pressure and fire to mold me into something new all the time.  To wipe me clean is to purify me and get rid of the buildup which can block my true self from shining through.  Yielding to His loving touch is bringing out the woman God created me to be.

I wish I could go into more detail about the rocks and what they are but I think I'm getting lost in the symbolism and I really just want to become the kind of woman that my daughter looks up to and wants to be like.  I want to be her exemplar and I want all my stones to become the stones which she will use to step on so that she will not have to make the same mistakes I did/do in this life.  Day to day, it's hard to know whether or not I am becoming this mother that I envision for my daughter since sometimes I really am just trying to survive.

Sometimes when she's awake, I long for her to sleep and give me a break.  And most of the time while she's asleep and after I've done a semi-justifiable amount of housework/cleaning... I lay there and stare at her rolling around her bed on the monitor or look at pictures and videos of her on my phone... wishing she were awake so I could squeeze her or see her laugh and discover life in real time again.  It is a blessing and a privilege that I have the time to stay home with her most of the week.  It is a blessing that my parents did not have when I was growing up... and it is a privilege that has been afforded to me because I have such a steady rock of a husband to lean on.  More rock imagery.  

I'm also on the verge of another chapter of my life.  I've started my first nursing instructor job.  It was all kind of whirlwind and there are crazy stories of God's provision and blessing to open this door for me... but looking back... I feel like that's just what God does in my life. Things I never expected to happen... blessings I didn't even ask for that come pouring out on me... maybe I do some battles here and there to get where I am, but it also really does feel like all I had to do was show up or unsheath a sword and my enemies are slain.  How has my life been so victorious despite all that could have happened or maybe should have happened?  I don't know... but I do know God and I know His grace.  Every single good and perfect gift in my life is from God and there are so, so many.  I've only met my students once so far, but a few of them have shared their stories of why they decided they wanted to be a nurse and I have been floored by them thus far.  The width and depth of their hearts and their unique life experiences which have brought them to where they are today are nothing short of amazing.  I am so privileged to have crossed into their journey in this season/semester.  I hope that I will be able to help them shine as new nurses... they're already so brilliantly and masterfully created.  

So I haven't written in forever... because no words came when I wanted to write... and now that I'm typing, it seems like the words just won't stop coming even though it kind of feels like a lot of scattered nonsense.  

Will my children rise up and call me blessed?  Will I have more than one child?  Who knows.  Right now, I hope that I love God with my everything so that whatever love I give is God's... that her first experience with love is the love her parents share with each other and that overflows onto her life... that our love would point her towards Jesus and that she would one day build her own relationship with Jesus... that she will be able to see and tangibly feel the rocks of my life and that they would further anchor her to Jesus and not become baggage or sins that get passed down from one generation to the next.  I don't even know if any of this is interesting to anyone else but me but I will post it anyway so it doesn't stay in my drafts for another year.  

Dear Strawberry,

You haven't been in my life for very long but I cannot imagine life without you.  My favorite moments with you are in the mornings when you wake up all happy and content, ready to explore the world.  Every new and amusing thing you come across, you always look for me to see if I'm also seeing what you're seeing... and I smile back at you not because of what you discovered but because the delight in your eyes and your desire to share it with me melts my heart and fills it with a joy I've never experienced before.  

At times, I wonder why you always need to be touching me or why when I put you down, you cry in protest.  And then I try to remember that this closeness and intimacy that you desire with me is something that I need with Jesus too.  Maybe you don't know yet that even though I'm not inches away from you, that I am still there. And maybe I need to learn how to cling to Jesus like you cling to me.  Every hurt and every bit of "pain" you experience somehow dissipates when you find your way into my arms.  The security you find in my arms reminds me of the security I also need in the arms of my heavenly father. 

The mornings are my favorite because whatever sins or frustrations we fell asleep with are forgotten.  I can tell that by the look on your face in the morning that the slate is clean again.  I can also learn from you not to bring the sins of yesterday into today.  I should go to sleep now... because going to sleep now will help the mornings with my baby come faster.

Momma loves you, my dear Strawberry.  You are my sunshine.  Your smile brings healing to so many around you.  I hope you continue to heal relationships and guide people towards love and joy for the rest of your life.

See you soon,

love,

Momma

Blessings

Everyone has a story.

I often look at people and wonder what their story is.  How did they get here?  What circumstances transpired that shaped their personality or molded their character?

I've wanted to sit down and write something for a long time.  This is the fourth time I've tried to write a post since the wedding.  So much has happened.

The LORD blessed the latter part of Job's life more than the former part. He had fourteen thousand sheep, six thousand camels, a thousand yoke of oxen and a thousand donkeys. Job 42:12

I know this isn't really the "latter" part of my life if you consider the grand scheme of things but this season is technically considered the "latter" part... I'm the oldest I've ever been right now... and it has definitely been one of immense blessing.  There were moments in the past 8 years where I wasn't even sure that such things were even probable.  It's remembering those times that makes me so thankful for the present day... and also confident that whatever happens in this life... that it will all be OK in the end because God has and always will be watching over me.  Maybe I don't have fourteen thousand sheep, six thousand camels, and thousands of oxen and donkeys but... maybe I've got the modern day equivalent?  Everything seems just as monumental to me anyway.

In the past year, I got married.  We got pregnant.  I changed jobs. We bought a house.  Is that equivalent to the worth of 22,000 animals?  I'm just gonna say yes.

Each of these major life events has a great faith story that goes along with it.  I'm just super thankful I've been given the opportunity to even experience these things.

After Anderson died, there were so many moments I wondered if he was my one and only chance at marriage.  I wondered if anyone would want someone with such a history.  I wondered if I would find anyone that I'd trust with my life again.  I buried the thought of having kids way in the back of a dark closet because I just couldn't even fathom that anyone would see me the way he did and want to marry me. He saw past my thorns and looked deep into my heart... and he loved me.  He loved me so much that he created a safe space for me to let down my guard and start to grow into the woman God created me to be.  I had never experienced God in such a profound way prior to the Anderson season of my life.  It certainly was a major turning point and has shaped so much of who I am today.

When I first met PB, I told him that God is preparing for him a woman who has eyes to see him like He does... precious and worth dying for.  I honestly didn't know if that person was me at the time. I knew he was struggling with his singleness, just like I was.  It's what I would have told any of my single friends.  Our relationship wasn't without hardships. There were moments when I wondered if staying with him was worth it or if I was just wasting my time.  It's really difficult to make those kinds of decisions.  There was no way for me to know how the future would unfold or if he would even see me as worth staying with either.  At one significant moment... I remember my anger and frustration with the relationship had turned me into a person that I didn't like.  I was yelling and hard-hearted.  It would have been completely justifiable if I decided to call it quits at that time, but after taking a long, hard look at myself and my behavior... I decided that this is not how I want to remember the end of this relationship.  I did not want to be the girlfriend that ruined him for all the next girlfriends.  I made a decision to make the most of the situation... if this relationship ended, I wanted it to end with us as friends who both decide that we're just not right for each other.  That's all dating is anyway...trying to figure out if you want to journey the rest of your life with this person.  It's just as beneficial to know that it's not working out and to end it rather than drag it out and hope for the improbable to happen.

And journey we did.  Things got a lot better after that point.  Now that we're almost coming up on our 1 year anniversary, I can confidently say that there's no person I'd rather journey with than my husband.  Throughout all the recent transitions... I feel that we've really grown so much closer... we talk through our decisions and we make them together.  We didn't exactly plan on getting pregnant so soon.  We weren't even sure if we would be able to have kids.  So many of our friends have had fertility issues.  And it was partly in the back of my mind that tragedy could strike at any moment.  My husband's philosophy is more of a "let's see how it goes" and I'm a little bit more like "let's plan for multiple contingencies just in case".  We could clash.  Or we could just complement each other.  We're both different... and that's OK.  We can still work together because we love God and we love each other.

There was one weekend very early in my pregnancy when I had started bleeding.  Since my baby was supposed to be the size of an orange seed, I felt like this bleeding was way too much for an orange seed to handle.  I was almost sure I miscarried.  Since we hadn't really planned on getting pregnant so soon and most of my heart was fearful at that point... I thought that I would just brush it aside in relief but that's not what happened.  I cried and cried and cried.  I cried over the soul I thought I wouldn't get to meet until we were reunited in heaven.  I cried over the memories I thought we'd never get to make together on this earth.  I didn't even know how I could cry so hard over someone I hadn't even met yet.  This happened in January, right when PB's PPO insurance kicked in.  We were able to get an appointment in a few days to get checked out.  When the little peanut-shaped lump showed up on the ultrasound, I squeezed PB's hand and started crying again.  She was still there.  There were times when PB would talk to my belly and tell the baby, "we thought we lost you, but we're glad you're still in there.  We can't wait to meet you".  It's moments like that that warm my heart.

I'm 34 weeks pregnant now.  I've become increasingly less mobile and more reliant on his help.  My ankles are fat.  My fingers are fat.  I feel fat.  Even getting in and out of the car... by the time I'm standing or sitting, I breathe a sigh of relief (or maybe huff and puff cuz my lungs are all squished) and say, "I made it!".  I've seen my husband grow more and more into his role as a husband as a result of my physical "weakness".  I've seen his servant heart come alive as the opportunities for service have increased exponentially as of late.  When we were dating, one of my friends jokingly said that God made me so capable so that I could be an amazing helper to my boyfriend/husband.  Maybe sometimes it's true but nowadays, I don't know how I could do this without him.  I'm sure there will be moments when we're trying to troubleshoot a fussy, crying infant that he will say the same about me... but I'm just super thankful that we're in this together.  Even though pregnancy is... not the most convenient season of a woman's life... I am super blessed and thankful that I have the opportunity to experience it.  It might be so "normal" for so many people, but I had so many "abnormal" experiences in my 20's that I'm just grateful to be able to experience it for myself right now.

As far as my new job... I wasn't even looking for one when the opportunity arose.  This was maybe a few months into our marriage and I think it was probably one of the first decisions we made together as husband and wife.  Someone I used to work with thought of me when an opening became available at his hospital and he reached out to me.  It took me a while to even consider the idea but I talked it over with PB.  We decided that overall, my job was really stressful and that it would be something I should consider.  We actually went to the hospital together to meet up with the surgeon.  We talked about it and decided to just leave the option open.  By the time I decided I wanted to pursue it, they'd already hired someone else.  But they did tell me to stay posted.  They didn't get back to me for many months and by the time they did want to offer me a new position that they created, I was already pregnant.  When I came in to interview for that position, I felt obligated to tell them of my change in status because I didn't think it was fair for them to hire me and invest so much time in training me and then I go on maternity leave.  Maybe it was too honest, but if I were doing the hiring, I'd want to know.  A few weeks later, they decided to offer me a part time position doing exactly the same thing I was doing at my old job, except with more help and also compensate me significantly for taking the job.  I talked it over with PB and we decided that I should take the job.  It was a step of faith.  It was a whole new hospital, whole new work environment, whole new coworkers and routine... but now that I've been doing it for a few months, I think we've both decided that it was the right decision to make. It really was like God knew what was best for me and was planning for it even though I wasn't even aware that it was a problem that needed to be addressed. This new job is a lot less stressful and everyone has been really supportive.  Maybe it helps that I'm pregnant and everyone's nice to the pregnant lady... also everyone wants to talk to the pregnant lady too so it's helped me get to know the coworkers a little easier, I think.  Maybe.  Who knows.  I used to wonder if getting pregnant and becoming a mother would turn me into someone that no one wants to talk to anymore.. if all I can talk about is baby and mommy stuff... but someone else told me that it actually makes me more relatable to more people since so many women are mothers... and not that many other women are nurses or widows, etc.  And I have found it to be true.  I still have a large soft spot in my heart for my single and unmarried friends.  I hope I don't become irrelevant to them as I move into this new season of life.

I know this is getting pretty long, but our last major milestone is getting a house.  We'd been looking for a bigger place since we got married.  I'd actually been looking into buying a place after starting work.  We liked our little 1-bedroom apartment.  We could have lived and raised a baby there.  I think we definitely could have made it work.  So many people have done more with much less than we had already so I was a little bit more of a "let's see how it goes" when it comes to house hunting.  We put down many offers and we were getting outbid every time.  I was somewhat disappointed but I kind of just brushed it off and did the "oh well" that usually comes out of PB's mouth.  There was one night when PB came home and he was noticeably down.  At first he said he was tired.  But when he's tired, he will just lay down on the floor and take a nap.  He ate dinner and still looked down.  I kept asking and eventually he told me, "are we ever going to find a house?".  I was pretty surprised that our house hunting was bothering him so much since almost nothing bothers him like this.  So we had a talk. We prayed together again about the whole thing... and I remember praying for my husband's heart to be lifted up.  I was pretty confident that everything would be OK and we reminded each other that no matter what happened, we'd get through it together. I think we did take a little break from house hunting for a bit... and then a few houses came on the market and we went to see them.  We put an offer down on one of them and much to our surprise, they actually accepted.  I was in disbelief for a very long time since we had almost grown accustomed to getting the news that we got outbid.  And then there are moments when PB will tell me, "I'm so glad we didn't get (such and such) house".  We'll often pass by houses that we bid on and say, "remember that one?" and then we'd talk about the pluses and minuses of those houses.

I sometimes pass restaurants or places where PB has taken me out on dates and I remember how I felt about him at that particular moment.  There's a Japanese restaurant nearby our house where we went on one of our first dates.  He actually told me to meet him at a Japanese restaurant on Baldwin... not realizing that there are two Japanese restaurants near Baldwin and Huntington... (this happens to us many times... like when he tells me to meet him at the In-N-Out off the 10 fwy... and there's like 3 possible locations... and we've met at different ones on multiple occasions)...  and anyway... that particular date, he brought me an ace bandage because I had come right after a softball game and my knee hurt.  I miss playing softball.  Anyway... looking back at that moment... I am so in awe of how far we've come since then.  This man who brought me an ace bandage is now the father of my baby... my husband... the person who sees me every day and every night... with my hair all crazy... with boogers in my eyes... with a bulging belly and ugly comfy shoes on my feet... and still manages to remind me that I'm still beautiful to him.

We often ask each other, "can you believe we bought a house?" and we both say "no".  "Can you believe we're going to have a baby soon?" "no".  "Can you believe we got married?" "no".  I would have answered the exact same way many years ago.  I cannot believe all this stuff has happened.

I didn't really intend this post to be about my husband when I first started writing.  I do have friends that haven't seen me in a long, long time and ask me, "what's he like?".  I guess this post is an answer to that question.  He wasn't always like this... but after all that's happened... I've really seen him grow so much and so quickly.  This is who he is today... through the eyes God has given me to see him not just for who he was, but for who he is and who he will continue to grow to become.

I know we haven't been married too long and we don't often show a lot of affection to one another on social media but I do have to say that I feel like our love has grown in so much depth this past year.  I feel like it's a little like... how the roots of some trees will tend to dig down deeper the stronger the winds blow.  Going through huge transitions in life could be super stressful, but I think it's only drawn us closer as a couple, made us look to God more.  I am confident that even if tragedy or disaster does strike... that the God who was faithful to me in the past... who has carried me through the roughest, darkest, most agonizingly painful seasons of my life... is the same God who will continue to take care of me and see me through all the other seasons of my life as well.  Maybe it seems "easy" for me to say that now that things are in such a good place but only time will tell.  I guess that's it for now.  Not sure how long it'll take me to post again... maybe by then the baby will be months old.  If I have enough energy to continue to write.  I barely had enough brain power to write today.  Baby brain is real, people.

I'll end with this... PB said something to me right after we got married and it's stuck with me since then... he said, "thank you for giving me a chance. You won't regret it".  I'm glad that even though I didn't know I had eyes to see him like God did... that I trusted God's eyes to see for me through all the uncertainties and through the fog of these transitions.  He knows what's best and His way is better than mine 100% of the time.  OK... better go now!

Love,
Tiff

Tandem

So.  I'm getting married tomorrow.

I haven't blogged in a while.  I feel pretty rusty.  It's also pretty early in the morning and I haven't gotten much sleep lately.  I wanted to take a little time to process life before this milestone though.  It's a big one.

How do I feel?  I feel OK.  I'm not nervous. I'm not anxious.  People have been asking me if I'm ready and if everything's all set and done.  My answer is usually, "yeah... whatever's done is done and whatever's not done won't be and it's OK.  Everyone's just gonna hafta figure it out for themselves."  I'm pretty sure it's just to make conversation but I'm pretty darn ready.  I think I've been ready to take this next step for a while and the wedding is just another line to walk across before I start the real journey.  Maybe it's like the Israelites crossing over the Jordan river and entering the promised land... yes... I've been wandering the wilderness for a long time and I am pretty darn ready for it to be over.  There is a battle coming... I know there is... but I also know that there are a lot of God's promises waiting for me on the other side of the river... and victory is guaranteed.  I just need to engage the giants and the land will be mine to claim.  I want to be like Caleb.  He eyed it, he made his goal, and he fought for his land and staked his claim... full faith, full courage, and full vigor.  I'm not afraid.

I heard this song on the radio the other day called "Dear Younger Me" by MercyMe.  It made me stop and think about what I'd say to my younger self.  What would I want to tell her?  There were definitely moments of despair where I felt like I would never find a man who'd love me or who would want me... who'd take me on... all my history and everything that I am... but I recall so many times where Jesus sat by my side in those moments of despair and reminded me that the answer to the question that Satan would always use to break my heart... "who would want you?"... is and always will be Jesus himself... and that He is more than enough to cover all my needs, all my hurts, all my pain, and every ache and groan of my heart for something more.  He is enough.  And yet, He also provides above and beyond what I can ask or think... He's provided me another man to journey alongside, to enjoy and to challenge me to grow into a new and different version of me... Tiff, the wife.

It hasn't been easy, but there's been much... opportunity... to grow and practice my faith and love.  I think I might want to tell my younger self to cherish every moment of every day.  Make the most of the time when you're single because it is just a season of life... and you've got the time and mental capacity to work out as many kinks and release as much baggage as you can before you transition into another season of life.  The less baggage you come in with, the less you hafta work through.  When I moved here for work... I felt like... man... school is finally over and now I get to work and make money... but once I started working, I felt like man... stuff just got real.  I thought school was hard.  School was protected.  Grading is "real" but it's still safe.  You get a bad grade and you basically get a do-over.  I get a bad grade now and it's real... it's on my license... it's on my record... and these are real people with real health situations.  I'm prescribing and I'm treating.  This is the big time.  It feels like this with dating as well.  When I was single, I learned and I practiced but if I messed up, it was just me and God.  We worked it out.  I maybe needed to work stuff out with someone else but it seemed pretty simple.  Nowadays, PB is here.  When I mess stuff up, it's not just say sorry and it's done.  It's every day.  I hafta change it or the problem keeps coming back over and over again in daily life and now there's someone who sees me everyday and who knows me at home or in the world and I can't get away with things anymore.  It's accountability.  And a husband is a little different... he's also a person who's got his own stuff to work through with God and now we're in it together so our issues just magnify.

OK... I've got an analogy that helps me through our conflicts.  It's the tandem bike.

Both of us have biked on our own... it's one of our favorite things to do together.  He was more a mountain biker and I'm more of a road biker.  He's left handed; I'm right handed.  You would think that putting us on a tandem would be easy since we both bike but it was not easy.  The first time we rode tandem, we were on vacation.

Riding while we were on vacation was easy.  We weren't really trying to go anywhere.  We rode along a path at a park.  It was slow and leisurely.

The second time we rode tandem, it was for a purpose.  I'd signed up for a 20 mile bike race + half marathon.  I pondered why I was so crazy in signing up for that combo when I'd never run a half marathon before and I hate running, especially long distance running.  I thought that maybe if we rode tandem, it would give me a little break... and maybe we'd finish faster so that I could start the half earlier.  I know myself and it would probably take me 1.5 hours if I rode at a leisurely pace... and if I wanted to push myself, I could do 20 miles in maybe 75 minutes... but I'd ridden tandem with a friend before and we averaged over 20 miles per hour on that thing so it was an idea worth testing out.

It turned out it was not a great idea for me and PB to do a bike race on a tandem.  It was actually really difficult.  When we were doing our leisurely ride, it didn't really matter how we started as long as we started.  When we were trying to bike for speed, it got more frustrating when he wanted to start with his left leg and I wanted to start with my right.  When we were on the tandem road bike we were also wearing bike shoes and were clipped in.  We were forced to pedal at the same cadence.  I also had a speedometer on this bike to see how "fast" we were going and we were going much slower than I anticipated.  I thought if we combined our "power", we'd yield higher speed.  Not so, my friends.  And on the back of the bike... I pretty much have no control over how we're "driving" and especially no control of how "we" were braking.

On a river trail, it's pretty flat.  The only variation is really the underpass below a bridge and it's a very small dip followed by a small climb.  My method is to accelerate during the decline and use the momentum to propel me up the incline.  His method was to stop pedaling on the decline and start pedaling on the incline.  When I got frustrated and asked why he stopped pedaling, he said he was resting, and I said, we need to go faster when we go downhill so we have enough momentum to get this big, heavy bike up the incline... (Ok I may not have said it like that, but that's what I meant to say) but it wasn't up to me.  He was in front and he was "driving" and no amount of me biking as hard as I could would make up for the fact that he stopped pedaling.  I'm not weaksauce but I physically cannot keep the tandem going on my own.

On the back of a tandem while we're on vacation... it was great.  I could take pictures... soak in the scenery... I could drink water... I could do a lot of things on the back of a bike that I wouldn't be able to do if I were on my own.  On the back of a tandem when I want to go faster than we're actually going... it was incredibly frustrating.  It was good pondering time.  I thought about why this time was so frustrating.  I gave up on the idea that racing on a tandem would be a good idea for me and PB.  I also thought about my own behavior and how difficult I was being.  Pushing him to go faster was not really working for us.  LOL.  All it did was make me more frustrated, make him more flustered, and generally make for an unpleasant bike ride.  It was ruining one of our favorite activities.  And also... he was getting tired.  He's not used to riding such a heavy bike or increasing his cadence or biking like a road biker for speed.  He wasn't used to having grip shifters and brakes or using curved handlebars.  I'm used to it, but I'm still not that great at it.  Eventually, I had to stop pushing so hard and just go with his pace.  I slowed down my cadence to match his... and I stopped complaining about how slow we were going... I started trying to encourage him.  Mostly because he was cramping, which made us go even slower, and he was overall pretty miserable.  I tried to pick up the slack and push myself to pedal harder so we could get back to the car faster but I could only do it in short bursts before my legs got too tired.  I just had to keep telling him that "we're almost there" and "you're doing great".  I couldn't care about speed anymore... just had to try to make it back to the car and hopefully not ruin him for the next bike ride.

I thought about how dating or marriage is kind of like riding a tandem.  When we're biking on our own bikes, we just need to match speed and we're OK.  We could be on different gears... high cadence on low gear or low cadence on high gear.. doesn't matter as long as our speed is similar.  Our own bikes are also much lighter than a tandem.  It's less weight to pull... and we're only pulling our own body weight.  The tandem weighs more than the combined weight of our two bikes and we need to pull each other.  On  the one hand, I don't need to "drive", but on the other hand... I need to sit back and trust his driving judgment.  I needed to submit to him and support him and not backseat drive.

The way we bike... is similar to the way we live our lives.  It's just a difference in philosophy... I will bike harder when it's easier to prepare me for incline ahead.  He will coast when it's easier and then start working harder when the incline hits.  I saw this philosophy of life come out while we were wedding planning.  I put a lot of work in at the beginning, hoping that when it came closer to the day of the wedding, everything would be done and I'd have more time to just rest.  He tended to procrastinate and he got more stuff done closer to the wedding date... and even to the very last minute or beyond a deadline.  It still ended up being OK.  People extended us a lot of grace, but it was frustrating trying to work together.  In retrospect, I can see how it helped us get things done.  When we first started wedding planning work was a lot slower for me so I had more mental capacity and time to get a lot done.  The past few weeks, work has gotten crazy and I just didn't have enough capacity to go home from work and get as much done as I used to... but then he tended to get more done towards the end.  I'm thankful that both of us aren't procrastinators and that I got so much done upfront and earlier.  It did help us in the last few weeks that I'd already laid a pretty good foundation.  Man, it was frustrating though.  Wedding planning was more like racing on a tandem.  I'm hoping that real life is gonna be more like tandem on vacation but who knows.

Being on the back of that tandem helped me realize what marriage is gonna be like.  No longer are we two single people pulling our own weight side by side.  We are going to be two people on one bike... pulling each other as one person drives.  It's not a demotion.  It's just a change in position.  I'm to be an encourager and a helper and he's to be the leader and driver.  In order for us to have a good "bike ride", we need to work together, adjust to each other, set some mutually acceptable goals and then just do it and most importantly, enjoy the ride.

Two become one.  It's hard, yo.

Dear younger me
Where do I start
If I could tell you everything that I have learned so far
Then you could be
One step ahead
Of all the painful memories still running thru my head
I wonder how much different things would be
Dear younger me, dear younger me

Dear younger me
I cannot decide
Do I give some speech about how to get the most out of your life
Or do I go deep
And try to change
The choices that you’ll make cuz they’re choices that made me
Even though I love this crazy life
Sometimes I wish it was a smoother ride
Dear younger me, dear younger me

If I knew then what I know now
Condemnation would’ve had no power
My joy my pain would’ve never been my worth
If I knew then what I know now
Would’ve not been hard to figure out
What I would’ve changed if I had heard

Dear younger me
It’s not your fault
You were never meant to carry this beyond the cross
Dear younger me

You are holy
You are righteous
You are one of the redeemed
Set apart a brand new heart
You are free indeed

Every mountain every valley
Thru each heartache you will see
Every moment brings you closer
To who you were meant to be
Dear younger me, dear younger me

You are holy
You are righteous
You are one of the redeemed
Set apart a brand new heart
You are free indeed [x3]

Not sure how I want to end this post.  Wanted to say that I'm thankful for this transition in my life.  I'm thankful for PB and the conflict he brings.  I'm thankful for his grace and forgiveness when I backseat drive and then apologize later.  I'm thankful that he paid for that bike race and did it with me... and woke up super early and packed up our bikes and drove us to Long Beach.

I'm thankful for God's provision and His promises.  I'm thankful that Jesus sat with me in the pits of my despair, walks with me on the beach of leisure, and runs with me in the halls of the hospital at work.  I'm about to cross over the Jordan and marry my Promised Man.  

I wrote my future husband a letter in October of 2011.  I think I'll end with that. Thanks, younger me, for helping future me.  

Dearest Beloved,

From the deepest depths of my heart, with every fiber of my being, I want to tell you that I love you.   

I... have nothing to say to defend myself.  I've made mistakes in my past and I cannot change them.  I wish I would have been wise and respectful to you and I wish I had waited for God to bring you to me rather than to compromise for a temporary, fleeting, fleshly gain.  I implore your forgiveness for my foolishness and blatant disregard for you and your feelings.  God had already told me that He has amazing plans for me.  I'm so, so sorry I didn't believe them with full faith throughout my entire life.  I... hope that you will forgive me and accept me as I am.

I know I may not be who you imagined or who you would have wanted to marry if you ever dreamt about it when you were younger.  I know you probably would not have chosen to be the second husband to a widow... you probably would have wanted to be someone's first and last.  And I know it takes someone very special not only to love me, but to love who I love... even if it means also loving my love for my first husband, which I am not sure will ever go away.  It is a lot to ask and I do not take it lightly that you have knowingly taken this burden as part of loving and carrying me... and entrusting me to be your helper and also maybe the mother of your children and queen of your household. And yes, honey, that makes you king.  

I cannot change the past... I can only do what I can from now on to live in a manner worthy of the Gospel of Christ... and worthy of your love.  I hope that I will not forget... I hope that from this moment on... the commitment I am making to you today... before I see your face smiling at me from the end of the aisle... will warm your heart and reassure you that I am wholly yours.  I will not split my heart again.  I am dedicating myself to loving and pursuing our God with all my heart, soul, mind and strength... preserving what I have, allowing God to grow me, mold me, and restore me... and guarding the best of me for Him... and also for you. 

Thank you for loving me and thank you for wanting to embark on the epic adventure of life with me at your side.  I love you and I'm excited... for us.  It's gonna be awesome!

love,
Tiff

p.s. you look hot in that tux.  or suit.  or whatever you're wearing when you're reading this.  Jeans?  Pajamas?