What if.....

....I had kept my Toyota Tercel at the end of the lease? I could've avoided every bit of stress that old Chrysler brought me. Never buy a car because it's pretty.

....I hadn't been so stupid the summer before I met Joe? Maybe we would've started dating sooner. Or maybe never at all, because I might not have taken the months I needed to get my focus back on God. I might have missed Joe altogether by not listen to the Holy Spirit.

....I had never started taking birth control pills when we first got married? What if I had just let nature take its course? Sure, we didn't have health insurance at the time. But paying off a hospital bill seems like a small price to pay for years without children. Then again, we had to go through some very rocky roads in ministry - including a couple of hurricanes - that I am glad I didn't have to drag my babies into.

....I had appreciated myself more in school? I saw old middle school pictures recently. I was not the chubby kid I thought I was. Where did that obsession that led to yo-yo dieting come from? If I had chosen health over vanity, things would be much different. Of this, I am sure.

....Worms had machine guns? Birds would die.

Okay....

I've done all the writing for a while. I'm borrowing an idea from sites like the One Minute Writer and Scribbit to post a question just to get some discussion balls rolling. Either comment on Facebook, or here on blogger.

Question: Where do you wish you were at this very minute?

Here's my answer - Sitting in a beach chair by that European lake house in the last scene of "Casino Royale". With Joe. But if he's not available, Daniel Craig will do.


Okay - get to writing.

A Poem

Inside, my soul is
Quiet,
quiet
Days crawl by
Slowly,
S L O W L Y
Sunlight on quartz
Hoping,
Hoping
Stone or jewel?
Do not speak
Waiting
waiting
Will this flash of light disappear
Will another jewel be turned to reveal a stone
Will the good thing come to those
Who are
Waiting
waiting
Hoping
hoping
Quiet
quiet
The days go by
Slowly
S L O W L Y
--JK--

Okay, so I don't always try my hand at poetry. I've never been good at hiding what I want to say in unique figurative language. I'd rather just come out and say it. So, here is my definition of the poem. [I don't give in to that postmodern deconstructive language crap. I'm the author. I had a purpose. Deal with it!]

Thanks to an increased dosage of clomid, the months that were 28 days long are now 35. It means there is an extra week of waiting time for testing basal body temperature. An extra week of silent prayers as prenatal vitamins and glucophage are consumed. An extra week of holding my breath to see if all the bloodwork and trips to the doctor's office are for naught. An extra week of feeling cheated out of something I have dreamed about since I was still a baby myself. And sometimes that makes my prayers very quiet and hard for even my own heart to hear.

But praise God, "The Spirit helps us in our weakness. For we do not know what to pray for as we ought, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words." Romans 8:26

"The Scoop" Part 11

The next weekend, Leslie and I, along with a host of other friends who worked with us at camp the previous summer, met up in Batesville, MS for another DiscipleNow weekend event. It was a great weekend. I won a green vinyl pig from a toy-claw machine at a truck stop in Canton. Who can top that?

I had spent that week preparing for the weekend and mulling over what had taken place with Joe on February 15. I still hadn't told Leslie exactly what I was feeling. I had some alone time that weekend to really spend time praying about it. I knew I was not supposed to be dating anyone. I had sort of made that commitment to myself as long as I was working on the CD, and working out some issues with being content in Christ.

On the late night drive home on Sunday night, girls did what girls do. We talked and talked. There was a lot of confession going on in that car. Everybody was sharing about some deeply personal things, mistakes made, dreams for the future. You name it. When it came to me, I took a breath and confessed what had been revealed in my heart.

I expected to hear, "Really? Joe? But he's so boring." It was all they had ever said about him. But this time, they said, "Really? That's cool. He's a good guy."

Joe and I talked on the phone a couple more times that month. We hung out at Cafe' Du Monde in the Quarter. He was my bodyguard, as I was actually on assignment - doing a survey of teens to twenty-somethings for a class project. You can never be too careful in New Orleans. At the end of that evening, he said, "I have some time off coming up. The day after Mardi Gras, we should go to Chevy's, for old time's sake."

Had he just asked me out on a real date?

I went shopping. I bought a pair of really dark flared jeans that I labelled the "coming and going" jeans, because you looked just as good walking up as you did leaving. And I got a pale yellow vneck tee that clung in the right places. I paired it all with some high heeled black boots. Oh yeah. I looked good.

In my eagerness, I never asked Joe what time. He knew when I got off work, so I just assumed what time he would be picking me up. Well, you know what happens when you assume. I ended up sitting there and sitting there. Suspecting that I was either getting stood up again, or that he was taking a reaaaaaaalllllly long shower, I got out my Bible and read through the book of Ruth. I did some more praying and felt kind of guilty about the whole wanting-to-date thing.

Very, very late that evening, he called me.

"Hey, what are you up to?"
"Reading Ruth. Weren't we going to Chevy's tonight?"
"Huh? Oh, I forgot about that. I got called in to work."
He heard a sigh on my end of the phone and a pretty disappointed "Oh."

"Hey look, a couple of my old youth from Texas are coming for the first couple of days for Spring Break. Do you want to go downtown with us?"
"Sure."

We finalized those plans. This time, I got times, dates, and places - making no more assumptions. It was a really nice day that next Monday. We walked through the French Market. I found a neat beaded cuff-bracelet that I wanted to get, but couldn't really justify because I had some payments to make on the CD project. Joe saw how much I liked it, and said,

"Do you really want it?"
"Well, yeah."
"Let me get it for you."

He paid the dreadlocked salesman and I put the bracelet on. The four of us walked all around downtown. The two youth in the front, and Joe and I behind them. Our arms brushed as we walked, and a couple of times our hands touched. I wanted him to reach out and hold my hand so much. But then again, I didn't, because it was probably very sweaty and slick to the touch. There was a butterfly hoedown going on in my stomach.

I had to leave the trio for a couple of hours to go pick up my girls from school. Once the parents got home, I took off for the dorm. I put on the outfit I had put together for our date that didn't happen. We all went out to HardRock Cafe for supper, along with a couple of extra friends. Then we walked down the Riverwalk and through the Riverwalk Mall until we came out in the business district near the TradeMart building.

This place is almost like something out of a James Bond movie, circa 1977. You have to take an elevator to a specific floor, then get out and take a second, hidden elevator to the revolving needle-top lounge. This place had red velvet walls and couches, and was surrounded by windows overlooking New Orleans. On one side you could see the Garden District, then as you rotated, you saw the bridge and river, then Jackson Square, then Canal Street.

I sat across from Joe, facing the rotation. We all ordered cherry cokes or coffee. I commented on the beautiful view, and Joe moved over next to me to see it better. It was very obvious to everyone that I was setting up that scenario. Our arms laid against each other on the armrest, but there was no attempt made by Joe to take my hand.

That night, Joe and I and the two students from Texas went back to the apartment of some friends who were out of town. They often let us use their spot as a hangout place. Joe and the guy stayed on the floor in the den. The girl and I slept in the bedroom. On both sides of the door, the same conversation was taking place.

"Do you think he/she likes me?"
"That's pretty obvious."
"Did he/she say anything about me?"
"A little."

On it went, until the wee morning hours. The next day, we all woke up kind of groggy from a pitiful night's sleep. Joe fixed breakfast for everyone. Then his two friends left to go home. We were alone, with nothing but time between us. We sat on the couch, sharing a comforter, leaning against the opposite armrests, with our legs stretched out side by side.

The next FIVE hours composed a very straightforward DTR. We sounded like the League of Nations issuing a treaty. He said, "I know you said you didn't want to date this year, but I will be waiting for you on the other side of that commitment." Then I said, "I don't need anymore friends. It's all or nothing."

Once we established that we were committing to this "thing", whatever it turned out to be, until we knew whether we were pursuant of a marriage relationship, it officially began. We made plans for our first date - to come back to the apartment that evening for a homecooked meal and a movie. And I left for work.

But my heart stayed behind, in Joe's capable hands. And he's held it ever since.

"The Scoop" Part 10

I left the front porch of the dorm and headed - more like marched - back up to my room after waiting over half an hour. When I got to my room, the answering machine was flashing.

"Hey, this is Joe. I'm leaving my dorm now."

The call had been placed just a couple of minutes before I walked in the room. I looked out my window and saw him pull up in front of the dorm. I tried to pretend I wasn't put out when I got into his car.

"Hey. When you said you needed to get ready, I thought that meant getting shoes on. What were you doing for the last thirty minutes?"

"Taking a shower. I stunk."

"Well, I came down about as soon as we got off the phone. You didn't have to dress up to go get coffee."

"Well, I didn't want to go smelling like a foot, either."

I laughed and forgave him, and off we went.

THREE HOURS LATER -
I hadn't gotten a stitch of reading done. He didn't get his laptop loaded. We drank coffee and talked, like we had done so many times before. Because he had made a couple of trips to Hattiesburg and because my family had come to visit in New Orleans, a lot of our conversation had to do with family. Mine, his, all that stuff. We talked about goals and plans. He was curious to know how the recording was coming along. Pretty good, although I was sure I was getting taken advantage of by my sound engineer. Either he didn't know what he was doing, or he DID know, and he knew that I DIDN'T. Either way, I was paying a lot of money to get very little in return.

As we sat in the overstuffed chairs and talked, a girl in purple scrubs sat around one of the coffee tables from us. She was an LSU dental student. She asked if we went to the seminary, judging from some of our conversation about classes and ministries. She knew some of our friends and was a member of First Baptist. We chatted with her for just a couple of minutes before she packed up her books and left. But before she did, she said, "What are y'all's name?"

"He's Joe. I'm Joanna."

"Ha, Joe and Jo. That's cute."

She left as I looked at Joe, a little stunned but grinning. "Why do people always assume we're together?" "I don't know."

It was beginning to get really late, so we decided to pack it up and leave. But we took the circuitous route that wound around the lakefront back to campus. And something happened.

My daddy has prayed since the day I was born that God would put a hedge of protection around me and give His angels charge over me. I have told friends that God got tired of putting a whole hedge of angels, so He picked one big, burly one named Spike to stand guard. Spike has black leather wings, and used to be a professional wrestler in Mexico. He's been in so many motorcycle wrecks that he has ground glass and asphalt in his forehead. So far, Spike had been pretty successful in scaring off any would-be suitors. They could see him, but not me. And I couldn't see any of the guys who would have been good matches for me because Spike stood in the way - a defense against my lack of judgement.

But in a split second, as we came around the traffic circle near that house on Lakeshore Drive that looks like the Taj Mahal, I blinked. And Spike stepped aside. I knew in that instant that I was looking over at the face of my husband.

We hadn't dated. We hadn't even talked about it. We had no DTR - you know, that awkward sit-down talk where you Define The Relationship. I just knew. But I kept my mouth shut. [It's a Christmas miracle!]

He invited me to come home with him, his roommate, roommate's brother and wife for part of Spring Break. We both had to work, but we were going to take Thursday and Friday off for the trip. I said yes, not really knowing what all was in store. We had hung out a lot, but never more that a couple of hours at the time. This night at Starbucks was one of the first times we had gone out without other friends. We had hung out in the dorms, but my girlfriends were always coming and going whenever that happened. I was taking a huge leap of faith that this friendship was going somewhere.

There was that familiar twinge of fear and risk rising in my stomach. It was that feeling you only get when you know you are about to put your heart on the line to be either received or rejected. There is no other feeling like it in the world. I accepted his invitation, and let the butterflies loose.

He pulled up to the dorm to drop me off. And as I slid sideways to get out, he said, "This was fun. We need to do it again sometime."

I've never sounded like this again in my life, but the 16 year old inside of me who never got asked to prom leapt from my chest and said in a ridiculously high-pitched and shakey voice that came out like a nervous giggle, "I always have a good time with you, Joe."

I quickly closed the door, and hopped up the steps of the porch. He sat out front until I flashed him a final look-back smile as I opened the door into the lobby, then he pulled away.

I closed my eyes and leaned agains the old wooden door as I put my hand on my chest. My heart was beating over 150 beats per minute. My hands shook. My head spun. I floated up to my dorm room where Leslie was already in bed.

"Where have you been?"
"Starbucks, with Joe."
Unimpressed, "Oh."

If she only knew.

"The Scoop" Part 9

February was a grueling month. I had gigs to lead worship at a different DiscipleNow every weekend. After the first one, my car started making the weirdest popping noise every time I turned. CV joints, I was sure. On the way back to New Orleans, we dropped my car off with my parents so Daddy could take it in for repairs. I was going to be minivan-bound for a week or so.

The car was finished and I asked Joe if he could give me a ride to Hattiesburg to go pick it up. No can do - he had just gotten a job as a security guard in an apartment building on St. Charles. It was a temp job, set to last through the Mardi Gras season.

I don't remember how I got my car back. But I got it back in time for Valentine's Day. Since all of my friends were single bums like me, we decided to go out as a gigantic group. Everyone but Joe, that is. He had to work. What an AWFUL idea on one of the busiest restaurant nights of the year. We had at least 15 people on that trip. I was in a rare wacky mood, and had a sexy rasp to my voice because I was getting over a cold. One of my friends was on the phone with an old college roommate, and I totally flirted with this person I had never met over the phone. It was all lies. I was just playing him, telling him I used to be a cheerleader and my voice sounded like that all the time now.

Note: I have never been a cheerleader anywhere except in my own backyard and mind when in elementary school.

The meal and the service at Applebee's was extremely disappointing. We were all fuming mad - but really it was our own fault - by the time we all got back to the dorms.

I felt bad that Joe had to miss out on all the festivities - as aggravating as they were - the night before, so I called him when I got home from work on the next day to see if he wanted to go to Starbucks and study. I had some reading to do. He had some software he was wanting to dump onto his laptop, and it was going to take a while. He agreed, and said he would pick me up at my dorm as soon as he got ready.

My interpretation of that was that he'd be ready to go in 10 minutes or so. I got my bookbag and went downstairs to wait.

Ten minutes passed. Then twenty. At the thirty minute mark, after several friends coming in from their evening jobs or plans passed me on their way into the dorm, I was getting hot under the collar.

Stood up again.

"The Scoop" Part 8

It was almost February. I was still mulling over Shelly's comments about Joe, and talked through things that he had been saying and doing since November that gave me pause. All my girlfriends shared the same sentiment. Sure, he's a nice guy....but - well, I'm pretty wacky. I play with puppets, for crying out loud. He's just too low-key for a girl like me.

One evening after work, I was really craving a chicken florentine calzone from "Italian Pie". [Thanks to Katrina, it's not there anymore. But the flavors are forever burned in my memory.] I grabbed one of the girls from my accountability group - Penny - to join me. We sat and ate the best food in New Orleans - in my opinion, since I am allergic to shellfish and have to pass on all the shrimp poboys my friends always ordered from Mulate's or The Bakery.

Penny began to tell me an interesting story.

"Last month, I got kinda asked out on a date by somebody. Well, I mean we talked a little, and made some plans to hang out sometime. When we had that service day back in December, I led a group at the Carver Center, and Joe was in my group. We talked a bunch that day, and then he'd call and we'd just talk about our callings and stuff. But ever since we got back from Christmas break, he hasn't called me. I guess he's not going to. I'm not sure what's going on there."

Hmmmm. Well, I didn't tell her, but Joe and I had a similar thing going on. Only, we had been hanging out and talking for a lot longer. I had a whole range of emotions going on. It was hard to quantify how much of each I was feeling. They ran together like a Jackson Pollock painting.

I was relieved that he wasn't honing his sights in on me, because I wasn't sure I could reciprocate. But I was kind of ticked off that he would say and do things that led more than one woman to question his intentions. And there was that same twinge of jealousy I felt toward my curly-haired friend the night he spun her around the dance floor.

The next time I hung out with Joe, it was just he and I and Shelly - the same third friend of the Third Day concert. He had been complaining about not having a full kitchen in the men's dorm, and said he wanted to cook dinner sometime. So the three of us got together and he planned and prepared a meal in the main-floor kitchen of ours. Lemon-pepper chicken breasts, green beans, and I think mashed potatoes. I couldn't remember.

As we ate, we chatted. I made some internal and external observations. At that moment, based on how he was acting and what we were all talking about, and how I was feeling, I sorted it out. I didn't like him. He wasn't acting like he liked me. He talked openly about the Penny situation, without being solicited by me. In his words, it fell apart before it started because he wasn't interested in starting some kind of relationship because he knew he was going to work at a summer camp that summer. And when they talked about callings, she had a very strong and confirmed call on her life to do mission work in some kind of closed Middle or Far Eastern country. That's one of those things that both people in a relationship need to have confirmed, because of the demands it makes on your lives.

Well, that answers that. We were just friends. And we could go back to acting the way we always acted around each other. No weirdness. No expectations. The Christmas gift was just a gift. I was a freak for reading too much into it.

The end
?

"The Scoop" Part ummm 7? Sure

The next day, I got the girls up early and we ate bowls of oatmeal with chocolate chips melted in. It's delicious, if you haven't ever tried it.

We talked about our fun day ahead - eating lunch at Pizza Hut, going to the movies, and our extra guest. Around 11 o'clock I gave Joe a call to see if he was still going to meet us.

No answer.

I repeated this at 11:15. Then 11:30. Errrg. It's almost time to leave for lunch.

By 11:45, he still hadn't shown up and never answered the phone. I was incensed. I have this thing about people not following through with plans made. I'm pretty lax about that with myself, but it really annoys me when others do it. Word for the day: Hypocrite.

We had our girls' day out. And it was fun. But there was a nagging feeling. Why would he stand me up? It's not like this was a date. If he didn't want to go, he could have said so last night. He acted so eager to hang out with the girls and I. Player. I hate a player.

A couple of days later, I was going out with my roomie and friends to get coffee and do some non-studying hanging out before the spring semester officially started back up. Just as we were walking out, the phone rang. I jokingly said, "I better get that. It's probably my husband."

I answered, and laughed out loud when I told Leslie and Shelly "Ha! It's Joe."

Shelly said under her breath, "He wishes he were your husband."

Screeeeeeech. What?

He was calling to say that at the last minute, he decided to make a quick trip home for some groceries and things he needed for the next semester. He apologized for missing out on our movie day with my girls.

I picked back up with Shelly after I hung up the phone. "Has he said anything to you about me?"

"A little. He hasn't made up his mind."

Leslie said, "You don't like Joe, do you? He's kinda boring."

He's not really boring, but to be fair to Leslie, Joe was - and is - pretty low-key most of the time. It actually frightened me about him. Given his size and his history....well, you know what they say about still waters and icebergs. It's not about what you see. It's about what's underneath. I was sure he was a boiling kettle that only needed the right amount of accelerant to result in an erruption.

I passed over Shelly's statement and gave ear to Leslie's advice. "No, I don't like him. He's just a friend." Only now, there was a question in my mind about that.

[INTERMISSION] - Confession Time

We'll pick back up with the dramatic events unfolding with "The Scoop" in coming drafts. For now, I need to get some things off my chest.

First, I finally cracked on those new year's resolutions. I find myself having emotional seasons much like weather.

January - Hopeful "This will be the year that I finally ...." February - Guilt-ridden "I guess I can't stick to ...." March - Angry "I will not let .... defeat me" April - Depression "I have to pay HOW MUCH in taxes?!" May - Promise "Just three more weeks until schools out"
June - Relief "Let's go to lunch! Let's take a trip! Let's sleep in! Let's catch up on some reading!" July - Reality "I haven't gotten anything done this summer! Only 3 weeks until staff returns to school" August - Hope Reprised "This will be the school year that I finally ...." September - Anger Reprised "I can't believe I'm having to .... I thought we would be done with that this year!" October - Laziness "Fall break in two weeks!" November - Laziness "Thanksgiving break in two weeks" December - BiPolar "Another Christmas program. boo. Two weeks until Christmas break. yay."

So I am trying to recover from falling from my new year's resolution to read through the Bible this year. I got off track in the beginning of February. I know where I left off. And I have the goal to pick it up and get back on track in March by doubling up everyday. By the end of March I should be totally caught up. I have time for this. I have just let other, less important things get in the way - At the expense of precious time communing with and hearing from God.

Here's a little update on the fertility situation, since I haven't mentioned it in a while.

Doc thinks our timing has been off on the progesterone tests. He thinks it must be higher because the medication is making me complete a cycle. We're testing later in the month this time in an attempt to get it right. Once we work out the timing issue, we'll know if the medication is enough by itself. If not, we're going to have a decision to make.

Either - a.) Have a minor exploratory surgery to make sure that all the months (like 24 of 'em) that I went without a cycle haven't led to cysts which are congesting traffic. b.) Go visit a fertility specialist in Jackson about more extensive and invasive assistance in the process. c.) Go back to our original plan A of adoption.

I'm leaning with c. My whole goal with the fertility treatment was to find some emotional closure about my body and pregnancy - resulting in either a baby or a once-and-for-all closed door. I know we are going to adopt at some point. There have been too many confirmations that this is definitely something God wants us to do. We just jumped in before His timing. And we had our own ideas of how it should work - which country, which agency, what age, what we were and were not comfortable with in terms of special needs. The next time, there will be a lot of listening, and less talking and planning.

But for now, we're still trying with the clomid. And I can say without doubt that these kinds of medications are no substitute for the presence and power of God, because apart from Him, they are ineffective.

And so am I.
John 15:5

A Retraction on "The Scoop" Part...oh, I forget...

See, it happens sometimes. Probably more than I like to admit. I don't consider myself a scatterbrained person. My brain isn't scattered. It's just full, and some important details get pushed out.

I was feeling romantic and nostalgic this weekend, given the holiday. I searched our bookshelves and found the journal. I didn't put it in storage with my other journals and stuff like that, because I knew I would want access to it. In truth, I have only written down two songs in it. But looking through it this weekend, I really got the itch to do some more writing.

As I looked through the contents, of course I turned to the page with Joe's Christmas message to me. And I discovered something. I did Joe a disservice when I quoted his note on the inside of the journal. I was going off of my memories, and they weren't exactly what you would call...accurate. I had the gist. But what he actually wrote was much more telling, considering we hadn't even gone on a date or considered more than friendship with each other. Here's what it actually said.

Hey, Jo. Every once in a while, God brings someone into our lives to remind us of what's really important. Thanks for being a good listener and a good teacher (on and off the dance floor). I know this isn't much, but maybe you can use it sometime.

Lots of love to ya, the other Joe.

See?! I wasn't just reading unspoken feelings into the note. He said it. He loved me! And he thought God brought me into his life!

This is why I freaked out over that whole Christmas break.

"The Scoop" Part 6

Picking back up where we left off....

It was December. There was a flurry of activity around the end of that semester. We had a Christmas party - complete with "Little Drummer Boy" on the bagpipes and snare drum. My parents came on their way to the New Orleans airport for their holiday trip to visit Big Bro #2. Mom brought homemade fruitcake cookies, which I forced a friend to eat. He threw up a little. He was allergic to the pecans. Didn't know that at the time.

The next morning, I dropped mom and dad off at the airport. When I got back to the dorm that morning, Joe called and asked if he could drop something off before he went out of town. I was staying in town a few more days for my job with the girls, working all day while they were out of school.

I met him downstairs. It felt like that afternoon following his debut at student-led chapel. I didn't know what to expect.

He walked in and said, "It's just something I thought of." From behind his back he pulled out a familiar looking black journal with a big silver treble clef symbol on the front.

I scrunched my face up as I looked it over. "What'd you do this for?"

"Uh...to pay you back for the ice cream."

Inside the front cover was written:

To Joanna

A good dance partner

and a good friend.

Thanks for everything,

Joe

"Well, thanks." If I sounded ungracious, I didn't mean to. I was just so surprised. And instantaneously sick at my stomach. We shared an awkward hug and wished each other a merry Christmas. He left, and I carried it back upstairs to ponder at a later time. I had to leave for work.

This time, I was sure there was more going on in his mind. He hadn't said it overtly, yet. But I knew it was bubbling under the surface. And I did not have the same feeling. Just like the day at Baskin Robbins, I drove over the Crescent City Connection to the West Bank thinking to myself:

"Do I tell him I'm not interested? Am I subconciously interested in him, and giving out signals against my own volition? Or am I perhaps reading too much in to a friendly gesture?" I called Big Bro #2, who had always been my go-to dude in matters of boy-girl relationships.

"Does this mean he likes me?"

"It's possible."

"What should I do?"

"Is he a good guy?"

"Absolutely, but I'm not attracted to him."

"Well, don't burn a bridge he hasn't even tried to cross yet. He hasn't asked you out or anything."

"No."

"Just keep hanging out with him and see what happens next."

"But I don't want to give him the wrong idea."

"Once you know exactly how you feel about him, and how he feels about you, you'll know what to do next."

"I've never had to reject anybody before."

"Just be thankful for the gift, and for the friendship."

I'm pretty sure we had that conversation about 6 times over Christmas break. I took his advice. Joe called me when he got back into town. He and I and the girl who went with us to the Third Day concert decided to meet up and go eat and see a movie. They picked me up at my job, and we had a blast. When they dropped me off, I felt better about the friend thing.

Enough so that I asked Joe if he wanted to meet me at the movie theatre the next day for a lunch matinee with my little girls. It was the youngest one's birthday and she wanted to see "The Emperor's New Groove." We made plans and I hopped out of the little green honda and ran inside the house to help the girls pick up their Barbies, tuck them in, and tell them I had a friend coming along to the movies the next day.

"The Scoop" Part 5 (which is really Part 1-part B)

Also titled: "HOLY COW! How did I leave this out?!!!!!"

It's a bit of a denouement at this point, but remember how we met in August? Okay, in September, my home church and the First Priority of my old high school were hosting a "See You At the Pole" concert featuring one of my favorite bands of all time - Third Day. Admission was free. The only catch was it was on a Wednesday. Most of my friends had volunteer positions at churches in New Orleans or had evening jobs. I didn't have that babysitting job yet, so I was as free as a bird.

Turns out the only person free to go was ... mhmmm. Joe. Well, I wasn't going to go alone and give him some false hope that I was chasing after him. So I asked along another girl from the dorm. Maybe I was trying to do a hook up. Maybe I just needed protection or a witness or something. Not sure. But we had a good time at the concert. Joe met most of the family that night. And the old-fart dog who was just a puppy at the time. *Memories, like the corner of my....* Moving on -

The trip back was one of those times when I knew we would be good friends. I discovered he was also a singer and songwriter. I didn't know that at the time. He sang a song he had written. I made him sing some more. I had just learned "I Can Only Imagine" on an old acoustic album before MercyMe began their campaign to take over all Christian radio. [Come ON, guys! Give someone else a chance!] He knew it, too, so we sang all the way back to New Orleans.

There was definitely going to be a friendship there. Yep. Just a friendship.

"The Scoop" Part 4

I mulled it over.

Man. I did it, now. How am I supposed to react to this? I'm usually the one who gets rejected. I have no idea how to let him know that I'm not interested.

He came over to the dorm the next week for another jam session. I was in a rare "bubbly" mood, and talking about my girls I was keeping. I had just had that job for a little over a month. I was talking about the particular challenges of having two competitive girls.

I said, "Man, when I have kids, I want boys. Three of 'em. Rough and tumble, and not fussy or high maintenance. I want kids who are loud and run through the house leaving their dirty handprints on my white cabinets."

He followed up my statement with, "Yeah. I want three boys, too."

Screeeeech. "Well, Joe? Are we PLANNING a family?"

I diverted back to stories of my wards, feeling a little uncomfortable and put on the spot. The moment passed, and we went back to jamming on a couple of worship songs as I thought, "He's got to stop doing this!"

That weekend, I decided to stay in New Orleans. A more balanced group of us - about five girls and three boys - went to Metairie to a hole-in-the-wall joint called "The Max". They had a really old-fashioned style jazz band that played swing music, which we had all gotten into. We would have swing dances in the lobby of the girls' dorm.

At a Baptist college? *Gasp*

"The Max" was a dive. We all bought cherry cokes, and sat at the little round tables until the band played something we could dance to. Since the guys were outnumbered, we girls had to take turns. Joe was the dancer in the bunch. For a big fella, he's pretty light on his feet. The other two kinda stumbled along while we tried to make them look good.

When you're swing dancing, nothing is too personal. The motions are quick and jerky, and fun and harmless. But then the band started playing "The Tennessee Waltz." One of the girls, a dear, dear friend, was a former student and teacher for an Arthur Murray dance school. She loved a good waltz, so she grabbed Joe, and they headed out to the dance floor. I took one of the remaining partners, and tried to teach him how to count to three. I watched as Joe twirled my friend around the dimly lit dance floor. She had long, curly brown hair that made everybody jealous. And it was that much prettier as she swirled around the dance floor.

Unexpectedly, I felt my heart sink a little. The dancing catfish and I retired early from the dance floor, and I pondered what manner of emotions were overtaking me.

Snap out of it! He has bleached hair, an earring, and three tatoos, for crying out loud! This guy is NOT your type. And you're not riding the dating-train. Remember?

I pushed the thoughts out. The band took a break, and I slid over to the baby grand piano and played a jazzy little rendition of "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas". Yeah. I was jealous of that hair, and of the dance. But she didn't know how to play the piano. So there.

"The Scoop" Part 3 (Part C) ... HA!

At about 3:00PM that afternoon, Joe came by the girls' dorm to drop off my notebook. The look on his face said everything.

"Did I JUST learn how to play the guitar?"

I rolled my eyes. Why is he beating himself up? This ego is going to take a little bit of soothing, I told myself. "Are you kidding? There are probably only two or three of us that even noticed. And it was only at the beginning. You recovered. Nobody remembers it. Only you."

I looked at my watch. I had exactly fifteen minutes before I needed to be crossing the Crescent-City Connection to the West Bank where I worked as an afterschool nanny for two awesome little girls.

"Come on," I told him.

"Where?"

"To Baskin Robbins. This calls for ice cream."

We jumped in my car, and flew down Gentilly to that fateful intersection with the little man with no teeth. We walked inside and both ordered a double scoop of peanut butter & chocolate ice cream in a waffle cone. I paid. Then we ate in the car as I drove him back to the guys' dorm.

I said encouraging things to him like, "Don't worry about it. You did fine. This too shall pass. Don't give up."

We pulled up in front of the guys' dorm, and he crawled out of the car. Leaning back in before shutting the door, he said, "Thanks."

"It's just ice cream."

"No, thanks for the talk."

Then he shut the door and I peeled out of the parking lot, sure I was going to have two unhappy campers waiting for me at Alice Harte Elementary. As I crossed the river, I replayed his last comment, and had a gut-sickening feeling.

Oh, great. I think he likes me.

"The Scoop" Part 3 (Part B)

I cried the whole drive back to Hattiesburg. Big Brother #1 met me at mom's house and drove me to the music store where I had purchased the guitar. When I opened the case, the man behind the counter gasped. He made a quick phonecall to the Tacoma manufacturer for advice. We agreed to pack it up and ship it to Washington to have a new face built for it.

"This will take about two months," he said.

"And how much will it cost?"

"About $250."

Now, I bought the guitar "scratch-n-dent" because a hook in the guitar display room had fallen and left a little knick on the side. It was invisible unless you were up close. How much of a discount? Just so happens, about $250 worth. Once the guitar was repaired, those little scratches would be gone, and I'd had a full price guitar that didn't look scratch-n-dented anymore. This should've been some consolation for me.

But it wasn't. I was doing the recording "debt free". I was so sure God had called me to record that CD that I was completely trusting Him for the financing. No loans. No credit. No debt. I had the money. I just didn't want to use it on the guitar. I wanted to pay for recording hours. Long story short, the music store worked out a deal for me that would get everything paid for in cash, over time, since recording was going to take so long anyway. I could just pay whenever I could, and they'd release my tracks once things were paid up.

Okay. I started breathing again. Big bro's friend had a "Road King" that he was willing to let me borrow for recording. Another problem solved. But that left the one lone issue of student-led chapel. I called the coordinator and we discussed options.

Option A - Move chapel to the old hall and lead from a piano. eh. What else?
Option B - Get someone else to fill in.

I knew Joe led worship with his old youth group. I called him, and we got together to work on some songs. Him on guitar, me on piano. We did this for several hours in the girls' dorm. We had great songs worked out, but nothing that we had with transparencies ready for leading a group. I called the coordinator back and suggested Joe just lead from his guitar. They talked it over and it sounded like a good plan. I loaned Joe my book of choruses and transparencies so he could put a set together.

That next Friday, Joe stood in front of the group and started out on the first song.

I can't remember now what it was. What I do remember is him being a little (okay, I'm being nice - a lot) shakey about the first few chords. It was nerves more than anything. By the second song, he had recovered. Every person who ever wished they could play the guitar would have thought he did just great. Only those two or three in the room who played regularly knew he choked right at the beginning. I could tell he was mortified. As the friend who put him on the spot, I felt bad.

Really bad.

Oh, dear.

"The Scoop" Part 3 (Part A)

This chapter should be retitled - "The Crash heard round the world!"

It was only a week after the B&N outing. I was leading worship for student-led chapel in an upstairs classroom at the NOBTS student center. Joe and crew were all there for moral support. I had a set of sweet and worshipful acoustic music to play on my guitar. This thing still had that "new guitar" smell. I was totally excited about using it at worship, and later that weekend on my album.

What a cherry! It was a small bodied Tacoma "Chief", little sister to the "Road King". Tacoma guitars are made in Washington, and have a natural finish, the softest wood, the lightest bodyweight because of some crafty engineering, and a really lovely mellow sound. It had made the trip with me to Philadelphia for the summer, and survived with only minor character flaws.

Oh, and they're extremely fragile.

I finished my set, and laid the guitar on top of the case, on top of a table, on top of a short stage platform at the front of the room. I didn't notice that one of the table legs was really close to the edge. Either the speaker that morning or I bumped the table moving on the stage. I really didn't notice which. But that leg dropped off. The table tilted. The guitar sang when it hit the floor. I screamed when the case slid off the table and landed smack-dab on top of the guitar.

I ran over to pick up the case, and underneath it saw a crack in the face of the guitar body that ran along its full length on one side of the strings. When I touched it, the crack gave way and part of the face peeled away. My guitar was left with a gaping whole that was about six inches wide by two feet long.

I laid the cracked face back over the whole, and set the guitar back in the case. In shock, I walked to the back of the room and sat while the speaker began his devotion. All my friends were turned around looking to see if I was okay.

I wasn't okay.

I wasn't breathing.

Once I caught my breath, it came in the form of a huge "sob" that sounded like a dying animal. I flew out of the door and ran down the back hallway to the women's bathroom lounge. Once alone, I proceded to lose my mind! I cried so hard, I thought I broke a rib from the internal pressure. After a while, one of the girls came back to where I was and sat without saying a word. It was the best thing she could do.

In broken words, I tried to tell her how bad this was. I was set to lay down my first track that weekend. And what was I going to do about student-led chapel? I had only recently been asked to be the go-to worship leader for the rest of that semester. What was I going to do?

"The Scoop" Part 2

I don't know why. Everything revolves around food for us. Or coffee. Last night, we had the best, THE BEST, chocolate malt ever.

Maybe it was that same need for chocolaty goodness that sent the same group of girls and Joe to Barnes&Nobles that night in early November. I had missed out on some of the hangout time with Joe and friends because I went home every weekend to attend my church, which I loved, and to work on my CD. It had become an all-consuming pastime for me.

On that November night, everyone wanted to go out on a "school-night", so I was along for the ride. We all needed to do some reading or some writing, and we discovered if we bought enough coffee at Starbucks, we had the stamina to stay at B&N and read the research we needed without having to actually buy the books. On our second round of drinks....which for good Baptist kids are double-shot lattes and red-eyes and double chocolaty chip fraps....Joe and I walked through the blank journals on our way to Starbucks.

I am ADDICTED - 12 steps worth - to journals. I'm not very faithful with it anymore, but I have filled up an entire rubbermaid storage container with prayers, tears, confessions....oh, dear....devotional thoughts, and original songs. Blogging has become journalling for me. It's my crack.

Of course, I stopped and looked through all the different flavors of journals they had on display. There were some for listing prayers, some for listing your gratitudes, some for journalling your dreams.----Not for me. You know what my dreams are like - CSI and poop.----But there was one that caught my eye. A slim, black paperback journal with silver writing on the cover. "Musician's Journal". It had pages of staff paper facing blank pages for lyrics and thoughts. I yearned for it. We were soul mates. It was love at first sight!

I picked it up, thumbed through it, then slapped it into Joe's chest and said, "If your looking for a Christmas present for me, this is it." I gave it a little kiss, promised I'd return, then rode the escalator back up to the top floor where all the religion books were. Me and my white chocolate mocha settled down to read "Philosophy for Dummies", which I enjoyed so much I did end up buying it that night. But I forgot all about the little, black book on a shelf downstairs.

Love Story Part One: "The Scoop"

Well, it wasn't exactly love at first sight.

I had just moved to New Orleans to start working on a Master of Divinity in Worship Leadership. I was transferring credits from Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary. My transcript information was late in coming so I missed out on the fun of orientation. I was rooming with a good friend I had worked camp with that summer. I was still reeling from a major summer crush that went unrequited, and full of good intentions to get my priorities in the right place. No dates, no crushes, no infatuation. Just me and Jesus.

Les, the roomy, made friends quickly with most of the campus. She's so outgoing like that. She and some other girls from the dorm were going to eat at Chevy's TexMex the night I finally got to New Orleans. Along for the ride with this group of cantankerous rangerettes was one lone Ranger. He knew some of the girls from before New Orleans, hadn't seen them in a year, so went along to catch up. Some say he was on the prowl.

Let me describe the first thing I noticed about Joe. Bleached (!!!!!!) hair that stood in spikes about 4" off the top of his head. He talked at the dinner table about his former life as a ship captain, running offshore supplies and crews on 100ft crewboats out of Galveston, TX. He was a man's man. He was rough around the edges, to say the least. I was into preppy boys. And I did NOT do the bleach!

I spent the night embarassing myself, talking about my crappy summer of unrequited love, and my commitment to myself to get off the dating train. Not that I was ever really a passenger, but I made it obvious that even if I had the opportunity, I would let it pass.

After dinner, we went to a nearby mall to hang out. Joe went in to a "Claire's" and got his ear pierced. What? That's right! I went into a "Spencer's" and bought a replica of the old "Pets.com" puppet. The company went out of business not long after that, but I had a ball playing with that old thing - using his little microphone to interview everybody we were hanging out with that night. I was - and still am - such a ham, always trying to make everybody laugh. I was pretty successful with the girls that knew me. But I was more than an enigma to Joe. I was annoying!

We ended the night with a trip to the old Baskin Robbins at the corner of Elysian Fields and Gentilly Blvd. I am sad to report that it is no longer there. It has been turned into an H&R Block. Not cool!

We sat outside on that warm August evening sitting on concrete tables and telling stories. Me and my puppet did a one man show for every passing car. I guess we caught the attention of an elderly black man named Floyd. He walked up and politely asked if we would mind buying a little ice cream for him. I dashed back inside while the girls and Joe kept him company. When I came back out with a hot fudge sundae, he asked if it had nuts on it. In fact, I had ordered the nuts because I thought the protein would be good for him. He let us know exactly how many teeth he had, and why he couldn't eat nuts.

He was gracious as he ate the sundae, and spit the nuts onto the concrete from the corner of his mouth. As he did, I (tried not to gag at the regurgitated nuts) began to try to talk to him about his life, about spiritual things, asking if we could pray for him. He said he prayed every night for someone to give a little kiss to, and to wake up and see in the mornings. Mmhmmm. Then he proceded to ask me if I had a boyfriend. MmHMMMM!

Quick like a fox, I reached over and grabbed Joe's hand and told him yes. This is what he said next...in his rough New Orleans dialect:

"See, I done axed all dese gurls if dey had dey boyfrienz,

and dey say dey don't,

or dey got dey eye on someboday. Joe'z ovuh here bein' all quiet.

I shoulda knowed he had d'queen of da whole bunch.

You gotchew a goodunn here, Joe. She's somethin' else."

To which Joe quickly replied, "Long as I've known her."Floyd went on to say, "I hope y'all gets married and haz lotsa babayz." (I guess we're batting .500 right now.)

We chatted a little while longer, then everyone drove back to the campus to our respective dorms. From that day on, when Joe and I saw each other on campus at the seminary, we'd tell our friends or whoever happened to be standing around us at the time about Floyd, our own little personal prophet.

Now, just because Floyd wished us a long and happy marriage does not mean we had "stars in our eyes" for each other right away. In fact, we were so sure it was not going to happen, that joking about it seemed safe and we made it commonplace. Moving from that place of comfortable friendship to a real relationship took some doing, and was totally unexpected.

New Profile Pic

This is me on my wedding day seven years ago. I have two great brothers who walked me down the aisle together. I'm pretty sure that when they gave me away, they high-fived each other behind my back! My dad performed the ceremony, and I knew - because he's always been a little protective - that he would not so easily have given me away.

Anyways, this picture of me and the brothers is one of my favorite pictures of all time. Ever. In the history of cameras. Period. Nuff said.

I can't believe its been almost seven years. I'll have to post the stories about how Joe and I met and how we fell in love. I love a great story, and I love the fact that God gave me a good one to tell.

'Til then.

Hope like Sunrise

Don't know why, but I have a real sense of expectancy today. It's just a Tuesday. There's nothing big on the immediate horizon that I can see. But as I sat down to my devotional journal this morning, I was really excited. Almost giddy. I had some prayer and did a little journalling. But mostly, I kept rolling the words of Psalm 5:3 around in my mind:

"In the morning, O Lord, You hear my voice. In the morning,

I lay my requests before You and wait with expectation."

There was a certain sense of urgency to be on the alert for opening doors and expanded territories. But there was a little bite of regret for the days I am not so expectant and observant. How many God-sized moments do I miss? It was for people like me who could get tangled up in such feelings that Paul wrote:

"Forgetting what is behind, I press on."

Today is a day for pressing, for watching, and for seeing God do something only He could do. I listened to a great song by the Canadian group "DOWNHERE" on the way to school this morning. I was right in step with the singer as his voice floated up "Hope is ri -i- i- i- sing..."

I can't wait to see what happens.

Sunday songs.

Thanks for prayers. The PT was negative, but my devotional psalm for the morning was serendipitously entitled "Sing for Joy". Sunday was a good day, even though I was a little emotional during some congregational hymns like "God will make a way where there seems to be no way...."

Really? We're singing this today? -- I did the old lady trick of stuffing tissue in my watchband, because my skirt didn't have pockets. I'm such an unpredictable wreck these days - which oddly enough makes me a little more predictable.

My husband deserves a medal. I know he gets frustrated with my ups and downs, and having to change the way we interact to keep me from having a meltdown or totally withdrawing, which is something I tend to do when I don't feel like myself.

God, thank you for giving me a godly husband. Give him wisdom and patience to know how to walk with me as we are on this journey of infertility together. And give me grace to accept his hugs on those days I want to withdraw, to smile when he tries to make me laugh, and to breathe deep when he can't understand me and loses his patience. I know you'll make a way.

Amen.