Who makes you laugh? For me, this is most often my husband. We've been married almost 40 years and nearly every time I get upset or we start to argue, he comes up with something to make me laugh. (It's tough to argue when your are laughing!) Also, when I feel bad about anything or am just in a blue mood, he says or does something to make me smile so I'll feel better. He is a clown at heart and always has a movie line, song lyric or Bible quote to fit any occasion.
Some of his jokes may seem old or corny to our kids and their families, but to me they just showcase who he is and how he has always been. Sometimes I don't catch the joke; it just goes right over my head. That makes him sad. He says it's no good to tell something funny if I don't get it or he has to explain. He feels that takes the fun away. So I try to listen carefully so I can laugh with him. That's easy to do because I love him and he's wonderfully good to me.
He can't stand to see me sad or down. If I cry, he's done for. It's a good thing I don't cry on purpose to manipulate him. He'd give me the the world and the moon if he could because he is kind and generous to a fault. But, if he gets angry, his brown eyes flash with fire and the air around him snaps & pops. Lightning flashes seem almost visible. He seldom gets angry with me, but injustices in the world ignite his fire within.
I can't believe I'm the lucky girl who caught him. He's the greatest! Not only is he cute and funny, but he is kind and generous and full of love for me and our sons. I'm grateful he married me all those years ago. I'm glad he still makes me laugh.
Sunday, June 20, 2010
Sunday, June 13, 2010
A New Daddy in Our Family
On May 27th we welcomed the newest member to our Guthrie Gang and in so doing we acquired a new Daddy. Our younger son is the proud papa of Levi Jackson, 7 lbs. 1 oz. 20 inches long.Our son has always been good with children and, as Uncle Steve, he is loved by his nieces and the children of his friends.
The new Momma is also doing well -- except for the typical new parent lack of sleep. She's up every two hours to feed and care for the Little Man. Daddy helps as much as he can and all the family is ready to lend a hand.
As I stood at the nursery window, I thanked God for the baby's safe arrival, his health and perfection. I asked for continued blessing on this new life; guidance for the new parents; wisdom for the grandparents.
Grandpa is proud of the new baby, too.
Uncle Jason, Aunt Heather, and Cousins Courtney & Sydney fell in love at first sight.I am thankful, so very thankful, for those who already love our new arrival. I feel confident this small one will grow up knowing he is wanted, loved and valued as a member of our family. He is and always will be a blessing to us.
Sunday, June 6, 2010
A Memory -- Canal Swimming
We lived in California from my 1st to the 5th grades. While we lived there, Dad mostly worked on a dairy farm and we had a lot of afternoons free. The summer days usually found us somewhere in or around the water.
We often swam in the irrigation canals. Ditches lined with concrete, the water ran clear and clean. Spaced throughout the irrigation route were gates to direct the water's flow. On the afternoon that I clearly remember, my mom, dad, brother and younger sister were playing in the water. Dad did all those water games with us: races, wrestling, dunking and splashing. After awhile, my brother -- he's 3 years older than me -- and I swam down to the water gate. This gate allowed the water to rush through to the next level and onward to the fields. Some other kids were playing there and we joined in their game of riding through the open gate in the rushing water.
We laughed and played and had a great time. Until -- one time I started through the gate and lost my breath and my bearings. I thought up was down and down was up. I floundered around coughing and spluttering and struggling to find my way to the surface or the side. Suddenly, my dad reached down and picked me up. Safe in his strong arms, I coughed a little more but soon settled down and let him carry me out. The water was too swift and rough for a little girl, but my dad could traverse the current with ease. Even when I wasn't aware of his presence, he watched over me and was immediately ready to come to my rescue.
As a child, I accepted this rescue as right and proper and my due as a daughter. Why then do I resist my Father when He reaches to rescue me from swift, turbulent waters today? Why do I feel I must do it on my own even when I am on the verge of drowning in the troubles of my life?
When I look back at the years of my childhood (all the moving, the changes, the making of new friends), I see the heavenly Father's hand preparing me for the unknowns of life. He gave me a family of love and laughter. Our home was always full of people, a house of hospitality. He introduced me to friends that were willing to reach out to the "new kid" in class, and showed me that in the midst of change, He is the one and only constant.
We often swam in the irrigation canals. Ditches lined with concrete, the water ran clear and clean. Spaced throughout the irrigation route were gates to direct the water's flow. On the afternoon that I clearly remember, my mom, dad, brother and younger sister were playing in the water. Dad did all those water games with us: races, wrestling, dunking and splashing. After awhile, my brother -- he's 3 years older than me -- and I swam down to the water gate. This gate allowed the water to rush through to the next level and onward to the fields. Some other kids were playing there and we joined in their game of riding through the open gate in the rushing water.
We laughed and played and had a great time. Until -- one time I started through the gate and lost my breath and my bearings. I thought up was down and down was up. I floundered around coughing and spluttering and struggling to find my way to the surface or the side. Suddenly, my dad reached down and picked me up. Safe in his strong arms, I coughed a little more but soon settled down and let him carry me out. The water was too swift and rough for a little girl, but my dad could traverse the current with ease. Even when I wasn't aware of his presence, he watched over me and was immediately ready to come to my rescue.
As a child, I accepted this rescue as right and proper and my due as a daughter. Why then do I resist my Father when He reaches to rescue me from swift, turbulent waters today? Why do I feel I must do it on my own even when I am on the verge of drowning in the troubles of my life?
When I look back at the years of my childhood (all the moving, the changes, the making of new friends), I see the heavenly Father's hand preparing me for the unknowns of life. He gave me a family of love and laughter. Our home was always full of people, a house of hospitality. He introduced me to friends that were willing to reach out to the "new kid" in class, and showed me that in the midst of change, He is the one and only constant.
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