Lasting Marriages

Dave and I will have been married 20 years on Dec. 29. We've already celebrated this December with a week's vacation in Cancun, Mexico. The responses we received when we told people were interesting.

On the ferry to a nearby island, I talked to two fun couples in their 50s, one from Denver and the other from Omaha. The wives are friends, and the two couples have been vacationing together for about five years. When I told them we were celebrating our 20th, I thought they might tell me how long they'd been married, but they made no comment. Perhaps they didn't want to one up me by saying they'd been married 30-plus years. Or, Dave thought, after talking with one of the husbands, that at least one of the couples was on a second marriage.

Two fun Canadian brothers we met, in their late 40s or early 50s, had both been divorced twice. One said his massage on the beach was nearly spoiled when he heard "Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today. . ." from a nearby wedding. He wanted to jump up and tell them, "No! Don't do it!"

He said he had a few friends with good marriages like ours seemed to be, but left the impression that it was the minority.

Another couple from South Carolina about our age that we met on our way to Coco Bongo almost couldn't fathom being married 20 years. I'm not sure how long they'd been together before their trip to Cancun.

Our waiter at Maria's, the fine dining restaurant in our hotel, was a bright spot. After serving our special anniversary dessert, he proudly told me he and his wife had been married "diez" (10) years.

Back home, a single mom at a school function said both of her marriages added together didn't total 20.

I remember Paul Harvey on the radio congratulating the week's "Champion Lovers." People married 70 years or more were common (and most were from Nebraska). Now he's gone, and the pool of enduring marriages is drying up.

However, the year after our wedding we had a number of friends marry as well, and nearly all of those marriages are intact and thriving. Furthermore, I know a number of friends whose parents are celebrating their 50th anniversaries, and mine are as well.

Of course, the thread that ties all of these marriages together is faith in God. Without Him, they unravel.

Ready for Christmas--On the Inside

"Mom, why don't you make it your goal to not get frustrated?" my 10-year old daughter Laurel asked as we were performing the delicate operation of attaching the four metal feet to the stand for our artificial Christmas tree. The living room was strewn with our boxes of Christmas decorations, she'd already unpacked our nativity scene, our four pieces of a lighted Christmas village, and a few wreaths. Now we were ready to tackle the tree.

How did she know not getting frustrated was exactly my goal? I like Christmas, and I like decorating for Christmas--as long as everyone helps, no one argues, the tree stands straight on the first try, the strings of lights don't get tangled, every bulb lights, and the whole process takes no longer than an hour. When any of the previously mentioned things happen (or don't happen, whichever the case may be) I have been known to express my frustration. Stridently.

Maybe that's why both of my boys and my husband didn't even want to put up the tree this year. It wasn't worth risking the wrath of Mom.

A couple of years ago our family spent a horrible Sunday afternoon putting up outdoor lights and garland for some customers of ours. Horrible because of my attitude. When the blanket lights wouldn't work, when the thorny shrubs pricked my hands and arms, when I secured the garland to the entire porch rail and realized the male plug should have been on the other end to hook into the outdoor socket, I lost it.

When we were finally finished, the house was beautiful. Ready for Christmas. Then I looked at my heart. Ouch. Not ready. I apologized to my family for my Grinch-like attitude.

This Christmas I've tried to be more mentally and spiritually prepared. I'm happy to report I have had no blow-ups, and we have all of our decorations up. And, when Laurel suggested we read "The Crippled Lamb" beside the nativity scene, I sat down with her and watched as she placed the characters in the scene at the appropriate places in the story. Because baby Jesus is coming, and I don't want to miss him.

Turkey Trot Thanks

Turkey Trot 2010. Kristen and I ran 10 miles in 1 hr., 29 min.

I ran the Turkey Trot yesterday! All 10 miles, and my knee didn't bother me a bit. For those of you who read my October post "Miracles and Marathons," about my knee injury and how I was praying for healing, you'll know how excited and relieved I am about this.

I wanted to make sure I blogged about my recovery, because I don't want to be like the nine lepers Jesus healed (Luke 17) who didn't come back to say "Thank you." I want to be like the 10th leper. While on their way to the priest, per Jesus' instructions, all 10 lepers were cleansed. Nine kept going, but one immediately made an about face back to Jesus, and threw himself at his feet, thanking him.

I find it interesting that Jesus didn't heal the lepers immediately. He told them to go show the priest--and he hadn't done anything! They had to walk in their leprous state, stepping out in faith that when they got to the priest they wouldn't be charged with spreading their disease, but, in fact, be healed.

I've had to step out in faith, bit by bit. I ran the last mile of the Prairie Fire Marathon (held on 10/10/10) with Kristen to support her in the finish. In the few weeks after that, I ran short distances slowly, and increased a little bit every day. I've felt a few strange twinges in my knee. I've iced it regularly. Three weeks ago, I started running with Kristen again. Cautiously. But it went OK, aside from being out of breath from laying off for three months.

So we ran the Turkey Trot yesterday. The weather was clear, cool, and not too windy. I got to run with Kristen the entire way (she nearly didn't get to run, but an accompanying gig she was committed to got canceled). Every mile was a struggle, but I kept going. Dave and Laurel cheered me on at mile seven and near the end. Kristen and I made our goal of under 90 minutes. And I am going back to Jesus' feet to say, "Thanks, Lord, for healing."

Changes (My Valedictory Address from 1987)

OK, due to popular demand (which means one person showed a hint of interest. Thanks, Sam) I will print my valedictory speech in its entirety. Upon re-reading it, I was a bit appalled at how random it was, but pleasantly surprised at my attempt at humor. Of course, the unintentional humor drew the big laughs. So for all of you who never heard the last lines anyway, here it is:

The Way We Were- Salutatorian Tammy Ratzlaff and I cool off in the cafeteria after the commencement exercises.

"Fellow graduates, students, teachers, administration, parents, relatives, and to whom it may concern:  as we, the class of 1987, take this major step in our lives, let us pause for a minute and reflect on the changes that have occurred.

Let me take you back to the year 1968. During this turbulent period both Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and Senator Robert Kennedy were assassinated. The Beatles surpassed Bing Crosby in record sales by gaining their twelfth gold record. Johnson stepped down and Nixon became President.

However, to many of the people here, I'm sure the very most important event was the arrival of a child. Perhaps it is somehow fitting that the class of '87 first made its appearance when the movie "Planet of the Apes" was released.

As we were learning to walk, Neil Armstrong was taking the first steps on the moon. In August before we started kindergarten the nation was shocked as Nixon resigned under the cloud of Watergate. This was a big year for us, to finally go to school. Twenty-four of the 48 in our class were together from Mrs. Wohlgemuth's kindergarten clear through this year.

In the spring of '75 wheat prices soared to $6 per bushel. 1976 brought celebrations of our nation's 200th birthday. It also brought the challenges of learning to read with readers like "Magic Rings and Funny Things" and "C.A. Zoo and Kangaroo." This was also the year the high school broke tradition and held the first school dance. A popular style at that time was flare leg jeans.

In second grade the boys seemed mostly concerned with their daily soccer game at recess.

The year 1978 was saddened by the death of Elvis Presley and the mass suicides at Jonestown. "Star Wars" was the number one movie in the nation and quite a hit with us, too. While in 3rd grade we learned cursive writing and struggled through weekly timed tests on the multiplication tables.

For fifth grade we attended school in Durham. Aside from a few broken windows and a substitute teacher throwing containers at us, we managed to survive the year pretty well. Gas prices shot from 60 cents to over a dollar a gallon.

In sixth grade we kept up on the national news with Mrs. Friesen's current event class. We avidly watched the Iran hostage situation and reported on the three major shootings of the year:  John Lennon, the attempt on President Reagan's life, and "Who shot J.R.?"

Changes were also happening at the high school as Mr. Born settled in as the new principal and Mr. Sextro grew a beard.

1982 was the year of the royal wedding between Prince Charles and Lady Diana. We also enjoyed finally being able to participate in sports as 7th graders and had an undefeated football team our 8th grade year. By this time some of the guys had hit their growth spurts and I was relieved to no longer be the tallest in the class. Land in Kansas reached a high of $800 an acre.

Finally we started high school. We had fun in freshmen exploratory learning to cut copper, galvanized, and plastic pape, making very blue blueberry muffins, and drawing cabinets in three dimensions. As sophomores the highlight for many of us who took biology was the trip to the prairie and seeing P.J. in his khaki safari suit. In January of 1986 came the tragic explosion of the Challenger space shuttle which killed six astronauts and one teacher.

As juniors we had many fun times during the late nights we spent decorating the gym for prom. As our senior year rolled around we learned to work together and help each other out. On test days someone would type up a study sheet of the government questions on a computer and distribute 10 or 15 printed copies to other seniors. Speaking of computers, this was the first year that they were used for a typing class.

As seniors we were often eager to share our new discoveries with other classmates. For example, in English one day while looking out of the second story window, Kendall Heide noticed that the UPS truck's roof was never painted. After he announced his observation we, of course, had to go see. Despite Mrs. Hill's protests, we ran to the window. Sure enough, the roof had a brown painted strip all along the edges but in the middle it had only primer. Before going back to our seats we all waved at Randy, who waved back.

This year we have also gotten to know our teachers better. At least, I certainly have. We have grown closer as a class, become even better friends.

Hold onto these moments, remember them, because things will change. Prices, politics, and people have changed drastically in the last 18 years, and things will certainly be different for us next year. Moving out, getting a job, going to college or even getting married are just some of the major changes that will take place.

In this rapidly changing world a person almost wonders if there is anything to depend on to stay the same. The farmers in the early '80s who felt land was a solid, dependable investment are now going bankrupt because of the swiftly changing land values.

However, there is one place in which we can put our trust. In Malachi 3:6 it says, "For I, the Lord, do not change," and in Hebrews 13:8, "Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today, and yes, forever." So as we face the many changes up ahead, let us remember to put our trust in God, who will always be there no matter what the future holds."

HHS' class of 1987, directed by Dave Clark and accompanied by Dwayne Helmer, sings "Encore."

Graduation

I'm pretty sure Nora would say to share this (see my previous blog). So here's my most embarrassing moment. After all, it's my banana peel.

I was nearly finished with my valedictory speech. It was the crowning moment I'd had in my sights for four years. I was talking about changes, comparing my and my fellow 1987 Hillsboro High School classmates' development with world events (the first man walked on the moon when we were learning to walk, etc.) and I got to my point, that although our world had gone through many changes in the past 18 years, God never changes. I quoted Malachi 3:6, which says, "God never changes." Only, it's sort of a tongue twister and it slipped out "Malachi  three SEX."
Horrified, I stopped. Then automatically corrected myself, "Three SIX."
I'd done enough playacting to know that after delivering a punch line you need to wait for the audience's laughter to subside before going on. However, working with a script where I knew the jokes were written didn't adequately prepare me for this major gaffe mid-sentence. So I corrected myself and rushed on.
Unwittingly, I had followed our high school science teacher's tongue-in-cheek humor. When students were bored or inattentive, P.J. Jantzen would say, "Human waste!" or "Human reproduction!" to get a laugh, because, he said, that's the two topics that all jokes were about. P.J. never got much more than rolled eyes in response to his joke.
I however, was getting a different reaction. When I first said, "SEX," students snickered. Then they whispered to their neighbors who hadn't been paying attention or who hadn't been able to catch my words on the gymnasium's PA system. The snickering in the chairs on the floor turned to outright laughter, and flowed up both sides of the bleachers.
I didn't have the poise, or the benefit of 23 years of hindsight to stop and say, "Whoops! That was a Freudian slip!" and let the laughter roll.
I'm pretty sure no one in attendance suspected me of having personal experience with the topic of my blunder, but surely my embarrassed response would have removed any lingering doubt.

So I slogged through the remaining four lines of my speech, urging everyone, whether they were listening or not, to trust in God as we faced the many changes to come.
Looking at the Commencement program (which I have saved in my "Seniors" scrapbook), I see the mixed chorus sang "Come Follow Me" after my speech. I'm sure I was up there, but I have no recollection.

Look Who's Laughing Now

This summer I read "I Feel Bad About My Neck," a collection of humorous essays by Nora Ephron, the funny woman behind the movie "When Harry Met Sally." I picked up the slim hardback for $1 at my neighbor's garage sale. Several gems made it worth the investment. One of my favorite of her observations was about humor.

During the course of her growing up, Ephron says her mother told her at least 500 times, "Everything is copy." Ephron interpreted it this way: "When you slip on a banana peel, people laugh at you; but when you tell people you slipped on a banana peel, it's your laugh. So you become the hero rather than the victim of the joke. I think that's what she meant."

Growing up, I didn't learn to laugh at myself. No one in our family did. I guess we figured living on a farm was serious business. So I didn't talk about in third grade when I split my pants playing freeze tag at recess. Or as an overzealous helper at a fair supper I threw away a nearly full bowl of chicken noodle soup, mistakenly thinking the owner was finished. When confronted, I said I was sorry, walked off, and spent the rest of the evening avoiding her death stare. Or in high school, when I couldn't hit the high note for my solo in "Godspell" the director re-worked the choreography so I could hold the microphone high for another girl to sing it while I lip synced.


So now that I'm wanting to write more, I'm tempted to mine the gold from my past. However, if I learned one thing from interviewing people for our church's 20th anniversary newsletter this summer, it's that no one remembers what happened 20 years ago.

So I could expose myself by reminiscing about my horribly embarrassing Freudian slip during my high school graduation valedictory speech, or I could realize that I'm probably the only one in the whole world who remembers it, and never speak of it at all.

What would Nora do?

Miracles and Marathons

The Children of Israel are easy to criticize. God showed them His power by miraculously by opening the Red Sea so they could cross on dry ground, then sweeping Pharaoh's pursuing army away. Yet three verses later, they're grumbling. They're complaining about getting a drink. They had witnessed the biggest miracle in the Bible only days before, and they're grumbling.

Perhaps I've been too hard on them. After all, the verse says (Ex. 15:22) they traveled for three days in the desert without finding water. Three days is about the limit that the human body can go without water, and I'm sure walking in the desert didn't help matters. They were desperate. This wasn't a mere wish for something cool to drink, it was a matter of life and death.

Even after a miracle, you still have to live daily. This summer I saw God intervene and save me from what could have been a fatal four-wheeler crash (see my post "The Crash" 7/30/10). However, I'm left with a hyper extended knee and an inability to run. I'd been running regularly with my friend Kristen for about four years. I didn't mind taking a break in August, because the weather was brutally hot and humid, but as the weather's gotten cooler it's gotten harder.

When I saw the first billboard for the Prairie Fire Marathon (to be held here in Wichita on 10/10/10), I nearly cried. Kristen and I were already training for it before my accident. We ran the Wichita Marathon last year, our first marathon. She had wanted to do one out of town, but we hadn't been able to come up with one that looked suitable. So we ran the Wichita, and agreed with the critics who had told us that running through the air force base was much too long and windy.

So we were looking forward to the Prairie Fire's new route, which will go through College Hill and Eastborough, which is our favorite choice for our long training runs. On an early Saturday morning, we can run 16 to 20 miles entirely in the shade, plus look at all the historic homes with their beautiful flowers and landscaping.

Kristen's still been training, using her ipod for company instead of me, which makes me sad. I miss our oxygen-starved conversations (we get about 30 minutes worth of real-time talking in an hour run, but it passes the time).

Dave and I were listening to Sports Daily on the radio between lawns last week, and when their guest said the marathon route would go over the Keeper of the Plains bridge, I burst into tears. The Keeper bridge! We run over that every Thursday (or, at least, I used to). After this beautiful bridge and the Keeper Plaza were completed four years ago, I've wondered why the different races didn't work it into their routes. Now they have. Plus, they're running through Cowtown! The Turkey Trot always ends at the Cowtown parking lot--never have we run through it.

So I've been icing my knee each morning, wearing a knee brace to mow each day, and feeling sorry for myself. Wandering in the desert, wishing for the Promised Land. It's hard to keep Moses' perspective. But I try. So I remind myself that the tree that I smashed the left headlight of my dad's four-wheeler into could have been front-and-center. That Laurel, who was on the back, was completely unhurt. That I've been able to continue working with very little discomfort from the beginning.

And I know that God could have provided water in the desert for the Children of Israel on Day One, if he'd wanted to. I think he wanted them to ask. I think he wanted to remind them that they still needed Him daily. And that as he had proven in the past, He could and would provide.

So I'm grateful for miracles, but I'm asking for healing. I'm trying to learn the lessons of patience in the desert, and I'm looking forward to the Promised Land.