Imagination

My breath caught as I watched the fight. It was the fiercest one that I had ever seen. The land was at stake. Everything that we knew and loved would be lost if he lost this fight and there was nothing I could do about it. My heart pounded as I saw blow after blow just miss it's target by a breath. I was ready for anything, but if they hurt him, they were dead.

Superhero Max fought valiantly against the Evil Nicholas. SM was the strong and true one who worked to save the planet from the evil plots that EN dished out over and over again. It was always amazing to see how many times EN failed. We always wondered at such a stupid villain.

There are many times in my life when I watch a child and I see that they are in their own universe with their own people and stories. They may tell me all about it and I may have no clue what they said but I do know that in their world, all things work out well. Nothing can truly harm them because they always come out on top. I know this because my brother and I did the same thing.

See, unlike today's children, to whom seem to enjoy a computer or TV more than the great out doors, my brother and I had the delight of playing outside, snow or shine, and coming up with our own games and fun. What I particularly liked about these imaginary games was that we could be whoever we wanted to be, and to heck with what anyone else thought. Ben loved Dragon Tales growing up, so he wanted to be Superhero Max, after the little boy in the show. I was always a bit of an odd ball (still am ^.-) and a hippie, so I went by the name of Hearts. Yes, as time went on the names changed to Bennie and Kelsena to now Gage and Emer, but the plot never truly changed. We still were fighting some form of evil and we were still winning.

I always joke around by saying that if you move a lot then you are either a military family or a pastors family. We are a pastors family, and as a result, we moved around a lot later in life. Some say that it is because we moved around a lot that we are such good friends. However, I believe that we were the best of friends long before we became a pastors family and started moving around. I think that it started with SM and Hearts against EN.

To this day my brother is still one of my best friends.  I've found that I can talk to him about anything. He's grown into a man of few words (some would say that's my fault from a young age) and therefore does not open up to a lot of people. I always find it funny when I tell someone that I had a two hour long conversation with my brother because they seemed shocked to find out that he knows more than the words 'k' and 'fine.' In fact, I'll be honest, it's strange to see him have a conversation with anyone else. Gaming conversations don't count, the subject matter is provided.

My brother is brilliant and he is working to get his B.A. and is hoping to continue further in his studies. Where he ends up only God knows. But there is one lesson that I hope he never forgets amid life and it's the same lesson I learned long ago; If you have the will and the determination to beat what ever obstacles are in your way, what you dream in your imaginary world just might come true and you just might end up on top.

Our Story

                When I woke up that morning, I was exhausted. I had slept, but my body still felt groggy and sluggish. I slowly got dressed and started planning for my day. I had two tests: Old Testament and New Testament.  I had been studying the night before and my brain was running through the Hebrew order of the books of the Old Testament and the layout of the temple for the New Testament . As I ate breakfast I ran through the copious amount of notes that I had scribbled down on an old file folder; making notes alongside all my other notes.

                When I arrived at the university my boyfriend was waiting for me. I quickly gave him a kiss and a hug and then settled down in the great hall to study some more. I even ditched my first class so that I could study for my second class, which was Old Testament. Out of the two tests that I had had before hand I had passed one and failed another. I was as determined as I had ever been not to fail this one, else I’d have to take the class again since there was no exam; or that was what I feared anyway. All around me was a blur. I don’t remember if I talked to anyone or if anyone talked to me. I did know that my boyfriend was sitting next to me but that was about it.

                After my test I was feeling a smidgen better. Old Testament was the one that I had been the most worried about and the one that I had studied the hardest for. New Testament I knew enough to finally pass one of the tests so I wasn’t too worried about it. My boyfriend and I decided to go to worship chapel before the test to give me a break from studying. Throughout the chapel he held my hand and occasionally would smile at me. I’d smile back and sing some more. Afterwards he suggested that we go to the lecture hall so that I could finish studying for New Testament.

                When we entered into the lecture hall there was only one other person there. I shrugged and continued walking up the steps but, behind me, my boyfriend said “ah crap.” I just shrugged again. He wasn’t going to interrupt our studying so I didn't see the point in being annoyed that he was there. I just sat down at our usual seats, second row from the back for this particular class, and started pulling my books out and preparing to study. After a few moments by boyfriend took my hand and said off handily, “this is where we first met, isn’t it?”

                I looked up from my studying and said, “yup, it was actually the row below us.” After a moment of silence I looked up again and he was smiling at me. “Oh no,” I said. “Oh yes,” he said and then got down on one knee in the little isle in front of his seat, smiling, his other hand was behind his back.  “Brianna Lynn deJong, I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?” I grinned and bounced up and down in my seat, my studying momentarily forgotten, as I said yes I would marry him.

                This has pretty much been the definition of our relationship from before our engagement to years after our wedding. Our engagement was no easy swim and our marriage is most certainly not always a walk in the park. Sometimes it feels as if I’ve gotten into something above my head and I’m just barely able to breath for the stress. Josh has been one of the only constants in the last almost three years of our marriage, four years, almost five, if you count how long we’ve known one another. He knows what to say to calm me down or distract me from my stress and he knows what to say to allow me to let out how I actually feel, rather than pretend that I’m ok, as I do with many others. There are days where I think to myself, by golly what did I do to marry this man and then he does something and I remember why I said ‘I do.’

                At one point in time during our engagement, someone from church asked me what I loved about Josh. I didn’t really even have to think. My instant response was that he could make me smile, even when I hated him. There are sometimes when choosing to love is not easy. But if there is one thing that Josh has taught me over the years, it is how to choose to love. My goodness, I’m not claiming to be any good at it.  In fact, there are some days where I downright suck at it, and then I get angry at myself for not doing what I should to be the best wife that I can be. When he notices this he just smiles, gives me a big hug and says that I am the best wife he could ever ask for. He still loves me no matter what and shows this to me daily. It took me a while, I’ll admit, to even notice the little things that he did to show his love. Now when he does something as simple as draw me a bubble bath I get giggly and I can’t help but smile.

Some may say that we are still in our ‘honey moon’ stage and that those feelings will pass. I like to try to be a bit optimistic. Choosing to love another human being in the way that the recipient feels loved is what can save many marriages. I’m not going to lie. There are sometimes when I am a very selfish person and I want what I want and that’s just the way it’s going to be. My husband is not like that. He is a very giving person, opinionated to the ridiculous sometimes, but giving. He thrives on service and to not volunteer to help out at church or at work is just weird to him. I honestly am not geared that way, though I’m learning and quickly. I thrive on encouragement. If my husband tells me that I can write a novel and get it published than I’ll work my hardest when I’m working on is and it will be great. If someone tells me that I can’t write a novel and have it published, I’ll work on it just to prove them wrong and it will be mediocre at best. My husband is my encourager and because he is so bluntly honest, I know that when he encourages me, he truly believes what he is saying and is not just saying it to ‘stay out of the dog house’ as it were. I believe that if we hold fast to our faith and hold fast to our constant choice to love each other in the best way we can, that our relationship will survive anything. Besides, we already said that the only way we can get rid of each other is if one of us killed the other, and to be quite frank, I’d miss my hubby far too much to do that.

Mouthing My Lines

I was standing on the stage with the lights blinding me so that I could not see the audience. I was wearing a cardboard box decorated to looks like a Christmas present and I had a big red bow in my hair. Beside me was a boy from my class who was dressed similarly only the bow was on the front of the box. I don't remember the lines that I had to say back then but I do remember being quite proud of my role and how well I knew my part. I also knew that, throughout my performance, my mom was sitting in the front row, mouthing my lines as I said them.

 

For the past few weeks we had been practicing our Sunday school production over and over with my mom directing. She had and still has a knack for getting kids in order and putting on a show. I'm not sure if I got the role because I was good for it or if it was because my moms' daughter but I truly didn't care. I felt that my mom believed in me and that was why I had such an important role.

 

Despite what life sometimes throws at us, I still feel that my mom believes in me no matter what. The evidence is in whenever I create something. She adamantly proclaims that it is hers, regardless of my plans. She is one of my biggest fans and she doesn't hesitate to tell me. She is quick to praise and slow to criticize.

 

My mom is my best friend. Like all best friends we sometimes fight but we always make up. More often than not we get along fantastically.  I know that if I had a problem I could go and talk to her about it and she would help me through it. I also know that if I just wanted to waste time and chat for a bit that I could easily talk to my mom for a good two or three hours, just for the heck of it! Not many daughters can say that about their moms.

 

If anything has changed since that production so long ago, it is that my mom and I are closer than ever before, for which I am always grateful. I am proud to be her daughter and am so happy to have the privilege to call her friend. And just like that day so long ago, I know that if I'm ever in the spotlight again, she will be sitting in the front row, mouthing my lines as I say them.

 



Fresh Cut Grass

The sun was shining on the warm summer day as I rode my bike around in the yard with my little brother. The breeze picked up the scent of fallen apples from the apple orchard and the cars on the road could be heard under our laughter. It was summer and we were having a blast.

Then we heard a truck pull into the drive way and our bikes were forgotten. We looked up and saw our dad's green landscaping truck as he drove into to the entrance of the two door garage. He stepped out of the truck once it was turned off and my brother and I dash to greet our dad. He was covered from head to toe in dirt and cut grass and he had a checker print sun burn on his face from his straw hat. Even though he was probably exhausted he still grinned when he saw us, giving us each a warm bear hug that always smelled like fresh cut grass.

Mom would come out and tell Dad that he wasn't allowed in the house till he hosed off all the dirt. He'd nod and go and clean as much of the dirt off as he could before going into the house. We kids would follow him inside, chattering about how our day was, never once thinking that he might just want silence after a long exhausting day. He keep smiling, ask us questions and answering our questions and then he would go to take a shower to wash the rest of the grim off.

My dad is now a pastor, and it's not often that he has to hose off outside before coming into the house. Instead of digging into the dirt of the ground, he now digs into the grit of the bible and strives to find what is planted in it's words. Now when I hug my dad he smells like the church building or of books, still a comforting smell to me, but I'll admit it's not the smell of my childhood. Things change and people grow and sometimes, what was once familiar is now so far from the present that it's hard to reconcile the two images.

The father of my childhood was a hard working man who toiled in the ground and who sought to make little seedlings sprout into a glorious rose bush. He would take that bush and he would care for it, trimming and watering as needed. Now he is a man who seeks to help plant God's seeds and to encourage with God's works, watering and trimming if God allows. It is still the same practice, it is still the same concept, except, instead of using the watering can, in a sense, he is the watering can and God's the one who's holding him and that makes me so proud to be his daughter.

There are still those days when he works in landscaping. I love those days. I may grumble about clearing rocks and getting dirt under my finger nails (what girl truly doesn't) but I still like working alongside my dad because it reminds me of my childhood and the way things were then. I love it when he cuts grass because I absolutely love the smell of the freshly cut grass. And then when I hug him I'm reminded that even thought we both have changed through out the years and have had our ups and downs, he's still my daddy and I know in my heart that when he comes driving in I can abandon my bike, run and give him a big bear hug and even with the smell of books, he still smells like freshly cut grass.