Grace Upon Grace

From His fullness we have all received, grace upon grace.

John 1:16

I have the most generous God. I have the most generous husband. A couple of weeks ago he forked up the cash for the prettiest little car I've ever owned:

Anyone who's ever ridden in my 1997 bumperless, chronically-trumpeting clunker is probably breathing an exaggerated sigh of relief, but this beauty is so much more than I ever asked or imagined. We got a heck of a deal and my new favorite thing is cruising the town at night, silently jetting down the highway in automatic or manual (somehow, I can choose either) while the dashboard blazes blue and neon orange. I hope I never wake up.

Aside from a gorgeous new ride, last month was filled to bursting with goodness. I had the privilege of baptizing the graduating senior in our youth group, Gabby, and it was definitely the highlight of my ministry so far. We had company every weekend: my wonderful sister-in-law, a dear friend from high school and my sister/partner-in-nonsense/best friend on earth.

Christene and I had the time of our lives, to put it lightly. Almost the second her plane touched down I whisked her away on a surprise birthday trip. We hit up the Riverwalk in San Antonio, ate delicious fajitas and then - surprise of surprises - we found ourselves front and center of a Jon McLaughlin concert. He sang directly to us the whole evening and even played the song I walked down the aisle to (So Close), per our special request. I'm pretty sure Jon will be the featured entertainment every evening in Heaven.

My friend Leslie treated us to an overnight at her parents' beautiful mountain home, and a waffle bar the next morning. We shopped the day away in Gruene and San Marcos, and re-lived the best and worst moments of our childhoods at Cracker Barrel. The rest of the week was a whirlwind of librarying, good friends, discovering tea rooms, homemade pastry and laughing ourselves sick at choice moments of the American Idol finale. Putting her back on a plane felt a little like sending my right arm to Africa.

Riverwalking

Crab Casserole a la Mitford. Heaven in a dish.

Tea room delicacies

I miss home. Lately I've been especially treasuring phone calls from old friends and growing-up-too-fast sisters, one of which remarked yesterday, "In re-thinking my childhood, I've realized that I was a much worse kid than I'd thought." This same sister once scared me out of my wits by sneaking around on the roof at 3 am. Apparently my incorrigible influence will go down in infamy...

A Belated Mothers' Day Tribute

She has chosen the good portion, 

which will not be taken away from her.

Luke 10:42

Growing up, I watched older girls who referred to their moms as their best friend, or whose mothers served as matron of honor in their weddings, with a resigned envy. I knew it wouldn't be the same for me and my mom - we were about as opposite as we could get. I craved spontaneity and adventure, wore camouflage cargo pants, stoically suppressed all outward show of emotion, carried a pellet gun and dreamed of joining the military. Mom was soft-spoken, gentle and modest. When my pet rabbit died suddenly, Mom was the one who wept over him. When I sprained my wrist tearing madly around the cauldesac on my bike, busted the side of my face while chasing my brother, cajoled that same brother into running away from home with a plus-sized box of fruit snacks for provisions, and abandoned my younger brothers and sisters on a snowy hill after a full-blown sibling war, Mom was there to soothe, bandage, train and discipline me. When I debated hotly the many reasons why I did not deserve a spanking, Mom would tell me a joke and then swat while I was laughing.

The summer I turned thirteen, Mom decided it was time to educate me in the skills of femininity and womanly living. Armed with her Bible and Elisabeth Elliot, she bribed me with Starbucks and walked me through the Bible's display of what it means to be a woman - from Eve to the Proverbs 31 woman; from Ruth to Titus 2. Quite honestly, I hated the archetypal "Bible woman." My hardened heart scorned her as passive, subdued and sickeningly submissive. I'd take a weapon and the great outdoors over a gentle and quiet spirit any day.

It saddens me to admit that my distaste for the women modeled in the Bible carried over into how I viewed my mom, the most gentle and quiet spirit in all of God's creation. Her shameless displays of affection and emotion made me feel awkward, and I vowed to have a career instead of staying at home and homeschooling kids as she had done. I am so thankful that Mom never gave up on me. I can't imagine how she must have suffered from my countless cold shoulders, but she consistently won me over by catching me at my weakest - when the lights were out and I was drifting in and out of dreamland. Mom would come in and rub my back and I, defenseless, would find myself opening up to her listening ear, unfolding the many layers of my guarded thoughts. Mom would often wake up in the early hours of the morning to find herself still sitting by my bed. I hope she treasures those late-night talks as much as I do today.

When I finally "broke free" of the confines of homeschooling in 9th and 10th grade and took classes with successful women who I truly admired and looked up to, I began to realize that Mom wasn't the only one who took God at His word about how and why He created women. I squirmed through whole classes of realization that being a woman after God's own heart didn't mean becoming prudish, meek and sequestered. Mom often reminded me of my name's origin: Jennifer means "white wave" and Anne means "gracious one." Slowly it dawned on me that God had created me as a woman for a specific purpose. My strong, restless nature was meant to be softened and feminized by graciousness and a tender heart. And as I learned to embrace the characteristics of a godly woman, my appreciation for Mom grew like never before.

My mom and I are still polar opposites, and today there are 1,500 miles between us. Yet daily I am inspired by her strength of conviction, passion for prayer, and unconditional love for and belief in each of her six children. Mom's is, without fail, the first number I dial with good news and bad; for encouragement, advice and support. She rejoices with me and carries my burdens as if they were her own. She devotes a whole day of the week to praying for me. Many women have done noble things, but in my mind Mom truly surpasses them all. She has taught this die-hard Martha the beauty of being a Mary; stepping away from the chaos and demands of life to find rest and fulfillment in Jesus. My mother embodies so many characteristics of the woman I want to be: sharp edges tempered in grace; hard heart broken in love that knows no qualifications.

Mom, thank you for carrying me, raising me, accepting me and never backing down from correcting me. Thank you for holding true to your convictions and valuing God's approval above anyone else's. You have modeled a godly woman, wife and mother to me, and I hope one day my children will esteem me as much as I do you. I love you!

"Her children arise and call her blessed."

A Week in the Life...

Reader Caution: The following post is obnoxiously long. Each day of the past week has deserved a post of its own, but I've been much too busy living them. Here begins a week in the life of us, featuring special appearances by dear friends, 5k races, my sister-in-law, and the world's greatest youth group:

Last Saturday Nathan and I road tripped with some church friends, Seth and Macie, to a not-so-cozy inn in Bastrop, TX. We stopped at Jason's Deli along the way, where much salad and boiled eggs were consumed. The inn, with all its flattering photographs and positive online reviews, was old and crumbling, and crickets attacked as soon as we opened the door. We fled to downtown Austin and made the Sixth Street rounds amid much beer and live music. We finally mustered enough courage to go back to our room, where we killed a spider on Nathan's pillow and laughed hysterically after the lights were out. Married sleepovers are my favorite.

Next morning we got up with the sun and donned our war (i.e. Dash of the Titans) gear:

Apparently only Nathan got the Fierce Face memo:

After the race we ate at a favorite lunch spot in Gruene and listened to some awesome live music. I am a huge fan of races and road trips with friends.

Lovely Macie!

Next on the agenda was a visit from my sister-in-law Catherine, a recent Summa Cum Laude graduate of Pepperdine University and one of the sweetest people I know. We had a lovely week of long talks, eating, exploring, eating, hanging out with friends, talking, eating and talking some more. Of course, the feats nearest to my heart are the strawberry picking and jam making episode, and our unbelievably delicious veggie enchiladas (in honor of Catherine's vegetarianism).

After a morning spent at the library (where we fittingly created a bulletin board featuring a farmer in a strawberry patch full of classic children's books - photo forthcoming), we went to Froberg's Farm and loaded up on fresh produce, including the most succulent strawberries imaginable.

Recipes for the jam and veggie enchiladas are forthcoming. As far as the enchiladas go, let's just say that it involved veggies I normally wouldn't touch with a 10-foot pole, roasted to perfection and slathered in a mountain of fresh grated cheese, sour cream, and homemade guacamole. Divinity at its finest, and even Nathan thought so - which is saying a LOT.

Our final jaunt was to Ca Phe Phin, a Vietnamese coffee house with waitresses who remember you and every drink you've ever ordered. Ode to bubble tea!

Last night we had a youth ministry cookout with some of my favorite kids on earth. One of the most incredible parts of this season is living life with the precious teens God has entrusted to us: playing, laughing, and growing together. I am so blessed!

The talented Catherine took the rest of these pics:

What a wonderful life.