Can I tell you something? I'm afraid to have a son.
It's true, he's measuring big and has this whole pregnancy. I'm not particularly looking forward to the birthing experience knowing that. But that doesn't scare me. Sleep deprivation doesn't scare me. Two kids sharing a room doesn't scare me. Providing for another member of our family doesn't scare me. These things will work themselves out.
I'm scared, afraid, terrified, because the reality is, I don't know how to raise a son. I was scared to be Lily's mommy, but I knew that I had a good role model in my own mother. My sister and I have "turned out well" I guess you'd say. I'm not trying to brag, but somehow when our parents disciplined us, we got it. We took on the challenges of life and while my sister and I haven't come through baggage free (no one does), we chose not to take "easy" roads laden with trouble that were presented to us. My mom, in particular, walked with us, shepherded us, modeled for us a life we wanted.
On the other hand, the boys in my family of origin, my two brothers, struggled. They had a hard time facing certain challenges and making good decisions. One brother's story is complete, was complete 14 years ago when he was just 10 days shy of his 18th birthday. It was a story with much joy, yes. But if I'm being honest, there was much difficulty there too. My other brother has walked a long and arduous road and has, for some time, been settled, content. But there were years that were torture for him and for us as his family.
Why, when we were all 4 raised under the same roof, did we see such different outcomes? I think of my own little growing brood and wonder these things. And I imagine my parents, and all parents out there, ask such questions to themselves.
I'm scared to have a boy, because I don't really know how to parent him.
But then, God promises not to give us more than we can handle right? (How's that for taking Scripture out of context! Ha!) And I believe that this child I'm carrying was chosen, uniquely designed, to be part of this particular family. I feel terribly unprepared, horribly unworthy, desperately unsure. But I'm moving toward feeling settled none the less.
Perhaps this is how Chase felt when I was pregnant with Lily. The youngest of 3 boys, he watched his parents raise all three of them well, but he never watched them raise a girl because they never had one. (To be fair, Chase never said that - this is just me inferring things.)
I'm scared to parent a boy. But I believe in God's sovereignty, in His wisdom, in His unending grace, that He is sufficient. So I'll pray, and research, and read, and learn from those He has put around me. And I suspect He'll guide this whole "parenting a boy" thing, and I'm sure I can trust Him with that.
Friday, February 28, 2014
Friday ramblings I want to remember...
I'm sitting at my mom's house as the snow starts to fall and my toddler naps in my old bedroom. My husband is quarantined at home for the moment, sick with things I don't particularly want to get, and the weekend ahead is blessedly uncluttered with plans.
Lily and I just returned from seeing the doctor. You'd think I'd taken her to the zoo or the circus, she was so excited about the visit! She couldn't wait to get there, and thanks to the doctor's set she got for Christmas, she accurately stated when the nurse was "taking your blood pressure" and was confused when that wasn't immediately followed by listening to my heart or giving me a shot.
In any case, at 34 weeks and 4 days, the doctor confirmed that all is well. She even said that maybe, just maybe, this baby isn't as huge as he seemed to be from his measurements at my last ultrasound. I'm hoping she's right!
Last night, Chase and I went to our birthing class "refresher" course. It was all good stuff - reviewing the breathing patterns, medication options, and stages of labor. It really did 2 things for me: 1) reminded me how silly those breathing patterns seem until you're actually using them in labor (then they are total LIFE SAVERS!!!! Or at least they were for me.) and 2) How horrific an epidural really is.
I know they're pretty common practice and pretty safe these days, but seriously? The pictures and the description and all the possible side effects... It will take a LOT of pain for me to think that that will be a good idea. Chase, on the other hand, has already told me he thinks it is a great option!
My poor sensitive husband. He's tough. He'll make it through. But he hates to see people hurting. That's one of the reasons I love him so much! But it does mean that our opinions differ a bit when it comes to labor and delivery pain meds. He points out that while God may have given mothers hormones that help them forget and block out the labor and delivery experience (at least I know I have), God did not give those same hormones to dads. He remembers it all very clearly. The only difference Chase said, is that this time he'll know that in the end it will all be worth it!
And he's right. It will. I'm ready this time - ready for this baby to be out, in the world, to cuddle and love and enjoy and grow before my very eyes. I wasn't really ready for Lily until the day she was born. This time, I know the difficulties, but also the delights and I can't wait to get there!
I've been pacing myself - doing a little something for the little guy each week. I washed up his clothes a couple of weeks ago and got them hung up in the closet. Last week, we moved book shelves and dressers around so those things are now where I want them. Baby Brother's bag is packed, but this weekend I'll pack mine as much as possible and make a list of all the things I need to pack at the last minute. Next weekend we'll put up the crib.
Lily is SO excited. I think she gets what's going to happen, but she's a little confused now. I've told her that when I eat that's how Baby Brother eats - he gets food when mommy gets food. So she asks if we can "take Baby Brother with us in the car" when we go places. Yes, my dear. I'm not sure exactly how we'd leave him behind at this point. She's also asked if we were keeping him warm. Fortunately, God saw to that when he designed the whole "in mommy's tummy" thing. And she's asked if Baby Brother can see what she sees.
I love that she wants him to be part of her life. She's going to be a great big sister - and I hope she teaches him by her treatment of him to be gentle and kind. Or rather, I hope he picks up on those characteristics in her.
After going to the doctor, Lily and I stopped at the hospital to finish the preregistration process. I explained that when it's time for Baby Brother to come out of Mommy's tummy, Daddy and Mommy will come to that hospital and go to a room, and then Lily will get to come with Grandma to visit. There would be a crib in the room for Baby Brother and it would be so fun! She took a while to process what I said, so we'll see what comes from it later. If I know her, she'll have some questions or statements to expound on the whole matter. I love how her little 2 year old mind works things out.
She asked to walk from the car into the hospital and hold my hand in the parking lot. She brought along her play cell phone and had a conversation "with Daddy" on the way in. It went something like this: "Hi Daddy!... Yes... We're going to the hospital... Yes... I'm wearing my black skirt... Yes... Yes... We were at the doctor... Yes... Bye!" I wish I could just bottle her up! But then growth and development are what make her so delightful. What a great start to the weekend!
Lily and I just returned from seeing the doctor. You'd think I'd taken her to the zoo or the circus, she was so excited about the visit! She couldn't wait to get there, and thanks to the doctor's set she got for Christmas, she accurately stated when the nurse was "taking your blood pressure" and was confused when that wasn't immediately followed by listening to my heart or giving me a shot.
In any case, at 34 weeks and 4 days, the doctor confirmed that all is well. She even said that maybe, just maybe, this baby isn't as huge as he seemed to be from his measurements at my last ultrasound. I'm hoping she's right!
Last night, Chase and I went to our birthing class "refresher" course. It was all good stuff - reviewing the breathing patterns, medication options, and stages of labor. It really did 2 things for me: 1) reminded me how silly those breathing patterns seem until you're actually using them in labor (then they are total LIFE SAVERS!!!! Or at least they were for me.) and 2) How horrific an epidural really is.
I know they're pretty common practice and pretty safe these days, but seriously? The pictures and the description and all the possible side effects... It will take a LOT of pain for me to think that that will be a good idea. Chase, on the other hand, has already told me he thinks it is a great option!
My poor sensitive husband. He's tough. He'll make it through. But he hates to see people hurting. That's one of the reasons I love him so much! But it does mean that our opinions differ a bit when it comes to labor and delivery pain meds. He points out that while God may have given mothers hormones that help them forget and block out the labor and delivery experience (at least I know I have), God did not give those same hormones to dads. He remembers it all very clearly. The only difference Chase said, is that this time he'll know that in the end it will all be worth it!
And he's right. It will. I'm ready this time - ready for this baby to be out, in the world, to cuddle and love and enjoy and grow before my very eyes. I wasn't really ready for Lily until the day she was born. This time, I know the difficulties, but also the delights and I can't wait to get there!
I've been pacing myself - doing a little something for the little guy each week. I washed up his clothes a couple of weeks ago and got them hung up in the closet. Last week, we moved book shelves and dressers around so those things are now where I want them. Baby Brother's bag is packed, but this weekend I'll pack mine as much as possible and make a list of all the things I need to pack at the last minute. Next weekend we'll put up the crib.
Lily is SO excited. I think she gets what's going to happen, but she's a little confused now. I've told her that when I eat that's how Baby Brother eats - he gets food when mommy gets food. So she asks if we can "take Baby Brother with us in the car" when we go places. Yes, my dear. I'm not sure exactly how we'd leave him behind at this point. She's also asked if we were keeping him warm. Fortunately, God saw to that when he designed the whole "in mommy's tummy" thing. And she's asked if Baby Brother can see what she sees.
I love that she wants him to be part of her life. She's going to be a great big sister - and I hope she teaches him by her treatment of him to be gentle and kind. Or rather, I hope he picks up on those characteristics in her.
After going to the doctor, Lily and I stopped at the hospital to finish the preregistration process. I explained that when it's time for Baby Brother to come out of Mommy's tummy, Daddy and Mommy will come to that hospital and go to a room, and then Lily will get to come with Grandma to visit. There would be a crib in the room for Baby Brother and it would be so fun! She took a while to process what I said, so we'll see what comes from it later. If I know her, she'll have some questions or statements to expound on the whole matter. I love how her little 2 year old mind works things out.
She asked to walk from the car into the hospital and hold my hand in the parking lot. She brought along her play cell phone and had a conversation "with Daddy" on the way in. It went something like this: "Hi Daddy!... Yes... We're going to the hospital... Yes... I'm wearing my black skirt... Yes... Yes... We were at the doctor... Yes... Bye!" I wish I could just bottle her up! But then growth and development are what make her so delightful. What a great start to the weekend!
Wednesday, February 12, 2014
Burried treasure
We've been talking in Sunday school about Joseph. One major emphasis for our class (which is made up of "young adults" aka: 19 to 30 year olds) has been patience with our situation and faithfulness to the Lord even in spite of bad circumstances and years passing by.
I don't know about you, but I get impatient. I want dinner to be done cooking. I want my kitchen to be cleaned (and I don't want to have to put in the work to get it there). I want this baby to come (8 weeks, folks! 8.) I want my student loans paid off. I want to buy a house. I want to know the results of the building campaign we just launched at work. I sound like Veruca Salt on Willy Wonka: I Want It Now.
Well, something happened this week that has both continued the walk I took down memory lane on Feb 4 AND has reminded me the importance of patience. God has a plan.
I dated Chase through almost all of my high school years. I started dating him during 2nd semester my freshman year, and I never dated anyone else. (Although, as I mentioned in my previous post, we did have a couple of breaks.) Chase has always been good for me because I can be a bit serious. He is not. He's funny. He's clever. He jokes. He pranks. He helps me have fun.
During Chase's junior year of high school, he was the business manager for the junior class. This was, at the time, the most important job any class officer could hold. Yeah. I'm not sure how Chase got elected. Anyway, he was good at the job. He sweet talked the lady who held the keys into trusting him and he spent 4th hour and any other study hall "restocking" the candy machines and pop machines and candy store. (Yes, in those days, we were allowed to have things such as candy machines and pop machines on campus, during school hours. And amazingly, obesity was generally avoided. Weird. It's like personal choice had something to do with it.... But I digress.)
Fourth hour was a critical period. You see, 3 days a week, the choir met during that period. On the other 2 days a week, the band played. There were options for yearbook and other small extracurricular classes, but it was one of the few periods where much of the student body was in study hall on one day or another.
Now, they weren't SUPPOSED to sell candy during school hours. And kids weren't SUPPOSED to leave study hall or extracurriculars to buy candy, but it WAS the hour just before lunch, and you know how teen agers are... In any case, it was a profitable hour to be "working" at "restocking" things "in case" anyone stopped by.
There were certain seniors who were regulars. Greg was one of them. Not only did he frequent the candy store, but he also was great friends with Chase and a few other junior boys who "helped" in the candy store on a regular basis.
That year, Chase's junior year, he and his two best friends made a plan. They would hide a bag of Skittles and a year later, they would go back, find the Skittles, and eat them while on stage during graduation. A final farewell of sorts. Greg, a year older than them and about to graduate, was sure his part of the plan was to hide the Skittles. So they signed a contract (the only logical thing to do) and gave Greg the Skittles and contract to hide.
He did so with gusto, creating a treasure map that took them all over the school and town, recalling various memories they'd made together. When the time came, the three boys (now seniors) followed their treasure map which led back into the candy store. But alas! No Skittles or contract could be found! They spent a long time peeking up into the ceiling of that candy store, CERTAIN that the hidden treasure MUST be there. The map said it was. All to no avail.
Fast forward to February 7, 2014, 13 years later. I received this text and picture from a coworker at school:
"[A student] brought me this today:"
I can't tell you how many times I've heard the story of the hidden Skittles. How many times those boys talked about how they couldn't find them. How many times they've wondered where Greg hid them. 13 years. That's a loooooooooong time for a bag of Skittles.
Unfortunately, the mice got the best of the candy, and you can see at the top of the page where they had chewed into the contract. None the less, what once was lost, now is found.
I believe that the mice-eaten Skittles and contract found 13 years after their placement (they were, in fact, in the ceiling of the candy store - thanks to this year's junior parents and students who found them!) have provided more laughter, delight and enjoyment than had they been found on the designated evening.
It's just a little thing - this silly note and candy. But God knew where it was the whole time. I'm not saying He protected it. (Clearly, He didn't protect the candy... or maybe it was His divine purpose to have it placed there to carry some little mouse family through the winter. Who knows!?!) But He did bring it back to its rightful owners years and years after the fact.
We all know that little section in Matthew 10 where Christ points out how God cares for the sparrows, and says if that's the case, how much more must He care for us. Things like this, things like my button (you can read that blog post here: The button story ) always remind me to rest again. Rest in His care. His timing. His purpose.
I don't understand it - good, bad, funny, sad, joyful, painful, sorrowful - the shades of life. But He understands. He cares. I don't have to have it all now (despite that I want it all now). How about I trust Him? If He keeps track of the minutia such as sparrows and buttons and Skittles and hand-scrawled contracts, He certainly keeps track of the things that really matter.
I don't know about you, but I get impatient. I want dinner to be done cooking. I want my kitchen to be cleaned (and I don't want to have to put in the work to get it there). I want this baby to come (8 weeks, folks! 8.) I want my student loans paid off. I want to buy a house. I want to know the results of the building campaign we just launched at work. I sound like Veruca Salt on Willy Wonka: I Want It Now.
Well, something happened this week that has both continued the walk I took down memory lane on Feb 4 AND has reminded me the importance of patience. God has a plan.
I dated Chase through almost all of my high school years. I started dating him during 2nd semester my freshman year, and I never dated anyone else. (Although, as I mentioned in my previous post, we did have a couple of breaks.) Chase has always been good for me because I can be a bit serious. He is not. He's funny. He's clever. He jokes. He pranks. He helps me have fun.
During Chase's junior year of high school, he was the business manager for the junior class. This was, at the time, the most important job any class officer could hold. Yeah. I'm not sure how Chase got elected. Anyway, he was good at the job. He sweet talked the lady who held the keys into trusting him and he spent 4th hour and any other study hall "restocking" the candy machines and pop machines and candy store. (Yes, in those days, we were allowed to have things such as candy machines and pop machines on campus, during school hours. And amazingly, obesity was generally avoided. Weird. It's like personal choice had something to do with it.... But I digress.)
Fourth hour was a critical period. You see, 3 days a week, the choir met during that period. On the other 2 days a week, the band played. There were options for yearbook and other small extracurricular classes, but it was one of the few periods where much of the student body was in study hall on one day or another.
Now, they weren't SUPPOSED to sell candy during school hours. And kids weren't SUPPOSED to leave study hall or extracurriculars to buy candy, but it WAS the hour just before lunch, and you know how teen agers are... In any case, it was a profitable hour to be "working" at "restocking" things "in case" anyone stopped by.
There were certain seniors who were regulars. Greg was one of them. Not only did he frequent the candy store, but he also was great friends with Chase and a few other junior boys who "helped" in the candy store on a regular basis.
That year, Chase's junior year, he and his two best friends made a plan. They would hide a bag of Skittles and a year later, they would go back, find the Skittles, and eat them while on stage during graduation. A final farewell of sorts. Greg, a year older than them and about to graduate, was sure his part of the plan was to hide the Skittles. So they signed a contract (the only logical thing to do) and gave Greg the Skittles and contract to hide.
He did so with gusto, creating a treasure map that took them all over the school and town, recalling various memories they'd made together. When the time came, the three boys (now seniors) followed their treasure map which led back into the candy store. But alas! No Skittles or contract could be found! They spent a long time peeking up into the ceiling of that candy store, CERTAIN that the hidden treasure MUST be there. The map said it was. All to no avail.
Fast forward to February 7, 2014, 13 years later. I received this text and picture from a coworker at school:
"[A student] brought me this today:"
I can't tell you how many times I've heard the story of the hidden Skittles. How many times those boys talked about how they couldn't find them. How many times they've wondered where Greg hid them. 13 years. That's a loooooooooong time for a bag of Skittles.
Unfortunately, the mice got the best of the candy, and you can see at the top of the page where they had chewed into the contract. None the less, what once was lost, now is found.
I believe that the mice-eaten Skittles and contract found 13 years after their placement (they were, in fact, in the ceiling of the candy store - thanks to this year's junior parents and students who found them!) have provided more laughter, delight and enjoyment than had they been found on the designated evening.
It's just a little thing - this silly note and candy. But God knew where it was the whole time. I'm not saying He protected it. (Clearly, He didn't protect the candy... or maybe it was His divine purpose to have it placed there to carry some little mouse family through the winter. Who knows!?!) But He did bring it back to its rightful owners years and years after the fact.
We all know that little section in Matthew 10 where Christ points out how God cares for the sparrows, and says if that's the case, how much more must He care for us. Things like this, things like my button (you can read that blog post here: The button story ) always remind me to rest again. Rest in His care. His timing. His purpose.
I don't understand it - good, bad, funny, sad, joyful, painful, sorrowful - the shades of life. But He understands. He cares. I don't have to have it all now (despite that I want it all now). How about I trust Him? If He keeps track of the minutia such as sparrows and buttons and Skittles and hand-scrawled contracts, He certainly keeps track of the things that really matter.
Tuesday, February 4, 2014
14 years ago today...
Fourteen years ago today is a hard day to forget. My world changed, but I had no idea at the time that such a thing was happening. This will be a trip down memory lane, so I plan to take it in the leisurely way I would if I could truly walk that day again. Don't rush. Walk with me...
It was a Friday. A game day. February 4, 2000. Basketball was my favorite sport, and as a freshman in high school I'd earned a starting spot on the varsity team. In retrospect, I see now how difficult that must have been for the sophomores, juniors, and seniors over whom I started, but that was the coach's call, and we had a great coach.
We played Greeley that night, and we'd scouted them. I still have the copy of the game we'd been to earlier that season between Spalding/Spalding Academy and Greeley. I'd written notes on it as to who was a shooter, who was left handed, who liked to dribble, who would probably drive to the hoop.
Our game against Greeley was at home, and I always liked those games better than the away ones. Beyond being in the gym in which we practiced every day, there were other bonuses like having a break between school and the game that did not include a long bus trip. And stopping at my house for snacks and food and getting an encouraging hug from my mom. And Friday nights after games, everyone packed into our local Pizza Hut. I think Pizza Hut in our town was probably rated (by the fire marshal) to hold 30 people. We'd pack at least 60 in there, sometimes two to a chair. Nothing celebrated a victory or lamented a loss better than fresh, hot pizza with friends packed in like sardines.
I played 4 quarters that night, a total of 29 minutes. (I'm cheating - I don't remember these exact details, but I found my stats sheet - thanks Coach!) I had 4 points, 2 assists, 6 rebounds, 2 steals, and 2 blocked shots. It was a good game for me. But that wasn't the life-changing part. The life changing part came after the game.
See, there'd been rumors around school that week that someone was going to ask me out. I took me a day or two to weasel who it was out of one of the guys during study hall, but I'd found out. He was the cutest guy in the sophomore class - a guy I'd secretly had a crush on for as long as I'd known him (since I was in 1st grade). I wasn't stupid enough to believe the rumors that were flying - I was not the kind of girl that guys asked out. My two best friends - they were the kind of girls that guys asked out, but they were both in relationships at that point.
I was still a proud member of the "She-Woman-Man-Haters-Club." It was all a joke, but you know how on the movie Little Rascals they have the He-Man-Woman-Haters-Club. This was our elementary school response to seeing that show. I still have the contract we made as 5th graders and signed to this day. And somehow as a freshman I still believed that I was destined for singleness until at least 30. Who needed boys anyway?
Over the course of the week leading up to Friday the 4th of February in 2000, the rumors turned into more of a reality, and I was waiting in some strange state of disbelief for all this to unfold. On the way back from Tuesday's away basketball game earlier that week, I'd caught him staring at me from the back of the bus. Strange. But my heart skipped in my chest a bit. On Wednesday one of the guys in my class stopped by my lunch table to inform me that this guy who was going to ask me out thought my butt was hott. Nice. Just what an awkward, insecure freshman girl needs to hear... I turned red and got out of there as quickly as possible!
So, back to Friday night. The games concluded (we beat Greeley, by the way), and the sophomores had to clean up the gym. Everyone was heading to Pizza Hut, because that's what we all did. Before we left, one of my best friends and one of his best friends convinced me that in order for the inevitable "asking out" to happen, I needed to "make myself more available" for such a conversation. They sat me down, by myself, with not a soul around for at least 20 feet, on the bleachers in the farthest corner of the gym.
I tried to be patient. The guy is supposed to be the pursuer, right? *sigh* I felt like a bloody fool sitting there on the bleachers, and I could only take it for so long. So I got up and then got a verbal lashing from my friends. "You were perfect! Why did you move?!?" Yeah. I felt like an idiot. I was tired of playing "the game." So I went up to this guy who was supposed to be asking me out.
[*Disclaimer* This is where he and I differ a bit in the story. But it's my blog, so you get my version. He can comment if he wants to contest any of it or start a blog for himself and give his own version.]
He was sweeping the trash off the bleachers in the south east corner of the gym. I walked up to him. I said, hi. He said hi. I said something along the lines of, "So I hear you have something to ask me." And then we sat down. I don't really remember exactly how the next 5 minutes went, but it ended with he and I agreeing that we'd like to be more than just friends, and that we'd meet at Pizza Hut in a bit.
As promised, we met later at Pizza Hut, which was PACKED as always. It was the age of the Big New Yorker, so we ordered one. The pizza was huge and SUPER hot, the table was tiny, there were 6 of us crammed around a table for 2, and there was no room for plates, nor was there enough silverware to go around. My boyfriend (for all of 1 hour) chivalrously offered me the fork from the set of silverware we had to share. He took the spoon. (Why does Pizza Hut have spoons anyway?)
The pizza was too hot to be picked up and eaten, so cutting with silverware was a requirement. As he tried to chisel off a bite, the steaming, greasy pizza flipped off of his plate and onto his wrist. I can attest to the fact that he did not cry. I can also attest to the fact that the hot grease from the Big New Yorker resulted in a 3rd degree burn that turned black, and now, 14 years later, still shows a nice scar.
What a way to start out a love story, right?!?
You've probably guessed it by now, but 14 years ago, on February 4, 2000, Chase Francl asked me out for the first time. Now, here we are 14 years later, and so much has happened...
I don't think there are quite words to say exactly how thankful I am for the faithfulness of this man. 14 years - that's almost 1/2 of my life (next year, it will be 1/2 of my life!) that I've spent with him. He knows me better than any human, and still he loves me. Unreal. Incredible. Unbelievable to me.
The patience. Oh the patience he has for me! And the grace to love me not just in spite of my quirks and flaws, but to love me through them and even because of them. He encourages, uplifts, supports...
Back in elementary, middle school, and high school, I was pretty convinced I wanted to live in a big city, be single and independent, have a dog and a cat, be a career woman. That was my plan. I didn't need a man in my life, I was sure. I think God put Chase there so early in my life because I may not have been open to letting him in later. I mean, look at me now. I live in a tiny town, I would never want to be single and I'm certainly no good being "independent" without my husband's support and encouragement, I have a dog (though not a cat), and I'm definitely more family-focused than career-focused.
Chase is not my god. Please understand that. But Chase is my most treasured gift from God (apart from salvation - don't go all theological on me here!). God knew what I needed, what would refine me, what would make me into a better me, what I would need as a cornerstone as I've - as we've - faced the last 14 years. "As iron sharpens iron, so one man sharpens another." Proverbs 27:17 I feel sharper.
I can't tell you how thankful I am for that day, 14 years ago. What a blessed day that was.
It was a Friday. A game day. February 4, 2000. Basketball was my favorite sport, and as a freshman in high school I'd earned a starting spot on the varsity team. In retrospect, I see now how difficult that must have been for the sophomores, juniors, and seniors over whom I started, but that was the coach's call, and we had a great coach.
We played Greeley that night, and we'd scouted them. I still have the copy of the game we'd been to earlier that season between Spalding/Spalding Academy and Greeley. I'd written notes on it as to who was a shooter, who was left handed, who liked to dribble, who would probably drive to the hoop.
Our game against Greeley was at home, and I always liked those games better than the away ones. Beyond being in the gym in which we practiced every day, there were other bonuses like having a break between school and the game that did not include a long bus trip. And stopping at my house for snacks and food and getting an encouraging hug from my mom. And Friday nights after games, everyone packed into our local Pizza Hut. I think Pizza Hut in our town was probably rated (by the fire marshal) to hold 30 people. We'd pack at least 60 in there, sometimes two to a chair. Nothing celebrated a victory or lamented a loss better than fresh, hot pizza with friends packed in like sardines.
I played 4 quarters that night, a total of 29 minutes. (I'm cheating - I don't remember these exact details, but I found my stats sheet - thanks Coach!) I had 4 points, 2 assists, 6 rebounds, 2 steals, and 2 blocked shots. It was a good game for me. But that wasn't the life-changing part. The life changing part came after the game.
See, there'd been rumors around school that week that someone was going to ask me out. I took me a day or two to weasel who it was out of one of the guys during study hall, but I'd found out. He was the cutest guy in the sophomore class - a guy I'd secretly had a crush on for as long as I'd known him (since I was in 1st grade). I wasn't stupid enough to believe the rumors that were flying - I was not the kind of girl that guys asked out. My two best friends - they were the kind of girls that guys asked out, but they were both in relationships at that point.
I was still a proud member of the "She-Woman-Man-Haters-Club." It was all a joke, but you know how on the movie Little Rascals they have the He-Man-Woman-Haters-Club. This was our elementary school response to seeing that show. I still have the contract we made as 5th graders and signed to this day. And somehow as a freshman I still believed that I was destined for singleness until at least 30. Who needed boys anyway?
Over the course of the week leading up to Friday the 4th of February in 2000, the rumors turned into more of a reality, and I was waiting in some strange state of disbelief for all this to unfold. On the way back from Tuesday's away basketball game earlier that week, I'd caught him staring at me from the back of the bus. Strange. But my heart skipped in my chest a bit. On Wednesday one of the guys in my class stopped by my lunch table to inform me that this guy who was going to ask me out thought my butt was hott. Nice. Just what an awkward, insecure freshman girl needs to hear... I turned red and got out of there as quickly as possible!
So, back to Friday night. The games concluded (we beat Greeley, by the way), and the sophomores had to clean up the gym. Everyone was heading to Pizza Hut, because that's what we all did. Before we left, one of my best friends and one of his best friends convinced me that in order for the inevitable "asking out" to happen, I needed to "make myself more available" for such a conversation. They sat me down, by myself, with not a soul around for at least 20 feet, on the bleachers in the farthest corner of the gym.
I tried to be patient. The guy is supposed to be the pursuer, right? *sigh* I felt like a bloody fool sitting there on the bleachers, and I could only take it for so long. So I got up and then got a verbal lashing from my friends. "You were perfect! Why did you move?!?" Yeah. I felt like an idiot. I was tired of playing "the game." So I went up to this guy who was supposed to be asking me out.
[*Disclaimer* This is where he and I differ a bit in the story. But it's my blog, so you get my version. He can comment if he wants to contest any of it or start a blog for himself and give his own version.]
He was sweeping the trash off the bleachers in the south east corner of the gym. I walked up to him. I said, hi. He said hi. I said something along the lines of, "So I hear you have something to ask me." And then we sat down. I don't really remember exactly how the next 5 minutes went, but it ended with he and I agreeing that we'd like to be more than just friends, and that we'd meet at Pizza Hut in a bit.
As promised, we met later at Pizza Hut, which was PACKED as always. It was the age of the Big New Yorker, so we ordered one. The pizza was huge and SUPER hot, the table was tiny, there were 6 of us crammed around a table for 2, and there was no room for plates, nor was there enough silverware to go around. My boyfriend (for all of 1 hour) chivalrously offered me the fork from the set of silverware we had to share. He took the spoon. (Why does Pizza Hut have spoons anyway?)
The pizza was too hot to be picked up and eaten, so cutting with silverware was a requirement. As he tried to chisel off a bite, the steaming, greasy pizza flipped off of his plate and onto his wrist. I can attest to the fact that he did not cry. I can also attest to the fact that the hot grease from the Big New Yorker resulted in a 3rd degree burn that turned black, and now, 14 years later, still shows a nice scar.
What a way to start out a love story, right?!?
You've probably guessed it by now, but 14 years ago, on February 4, 2000, Chase Francl asked me out for the first time. Now, here we are 14 years later, and so much has happened...
- I dumped him after a few months of dating
- He asked me out after a few months off
- I dumped him again after 9 months of dating (what was I thinking!?!)
- He asked me out again after a month off (Thank Heavens!!!!)
- 2 high school diplomas
- 2 bachelors degrees
- 2 masters degrees
- 5 1/2 years of dating
- 8 1/2 years of marriage
- 6 moves
- 6 job changes for him
- 5 job changes for me
- 2 kids (one not quite fully baked yet)
- 71 weeks and 2 days of pregnancy (Only 8 weeks and 5 days to go!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)
- 14 years of shared excitements, hurts, memories, life.
I don't think there are quite words to say exactly how thankful I am for the faithfulness of this man. 14 years - that's almost 1/2 of my life (next year, it will be 1/2 of my life!) that I've spent with him. He knows me better than any human, and still he loves me. Unreal. Incredible. Unbelievable to me.
The patience. Oh the patience he has for me! And the grace to love me not just in spite of my quirks and flaws, but to love me through them and even because of them. He encourages, uplifts, supports...
Back in elementary, middle school, and high school, I was pretty convinced I wanted to live in a big city, be single and independent, have a dog and a cat, be a career woman. That was my plan. I didn't need a man in my life, I was sure. I think God put Chase there so early in my life because I may not have been open to letting him in later. I mean, look at me now. I live in a tiny town, I would never want to be single and I'm certainly no good being "independent" without my husband's support and encouragement, I have a dog (though not a cat), and I'm definitely more family-focused than career-focused.
Chase is not my god. Please understand that. But Chase is my most treasured gift from God (apart from salvation - don't go all theological on me here!). God knew what I needed, what would refine me, what would make me into a better me, what I would need as a cornerstone as I've - as we've - faced the last 14 years. "As iron sharpens iron, so one man sharpens another." Proverbs 27:17 I feel sharper.
I can't tell you how thankful I am for that day, 14 years ago. What a blessed day that was.
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| This is one of my all time favorite pictures, taken in 2009 at at Virginia Tech/Husker game. We lost, but there is no one else I'd rather sit by through the ups and the downs (of football and life). |
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