Top 13 reasons why I am “Lucky” to be married to Rich. Happy anniversary, Baby!

 

(c.photo eol.photography)

Okay, so I don’t believe it’s luck.  Actually at all.

It’s God.  It’s grace and forgiveness.  And it’s a whole lotta fight!

But today, on two different continents, and 4 babies later (does a belly baby count?), we celebrate 13!

Happy September 30^th, Baby!

Phew!

So, my dear Richie…If I may, here are some of the Top 13 Memories I have with you.

Oh, and I am not going to include our engagement, wedding or children’s births…those are givens.

Starting at 13 and going toward number 1…

13.  Backpacking through Yosemite with you and being robbed of our food by bear cubs and THEN mama bear!

Remember what you and Brian did?  We were told, if a bear approaches, make noise, wave sticks in the air, and throw rocks.  Well…I am still pretty sure it was NOT a good idea to throw a rock at baby cub, knocking it out of the tree.  Mama came back—big and MAD!  None of us got great sleep that night, eh?  Good thing there were two of us couples to take night-watch shifts.

But, truly, the greatest memory from all of this was when the sun was rising and mama and her two cubs were crossing the horizon just in front of the sun merely hundreds of yards from us.  I have hardly, to this day, seen anything so beautiful.

12.  Going backpacking with you in the middle of November—straight up—switchbacks!  I was freezing cold.  My feet were tired.  And it was HARD!  Once we finally reached the top, you put up the tent and ditched me outside in the dark.  Alone.  And threw yourself in and went to sleep.  I was left organizing the packs and fending for myself.  Twas not what I thought my first year of marriage would be like 😉

But the funniest was on the way back down, in the SNOW (because of course it had to snow that night), when you told me to NOT step on the logs.  Yet I did.  And very ungracefully landed on my back.

You came to me and asked, “Are you hurt?”

Do you remember what I said, “Nope!  But my pride is.  And, well, maybe my bum, too.”

We had a good laugh all the way back down.  I still laugh today!

11.  Stinky Feet Jake.  He will always be one of my funniest and favorite memories of ALL times, married.  Remember how it started to pour as we were biking through Austria, so we headed high and decided to sleep on top of the wash?  Well, low and behold, another biker also got caught in the night.  Remember how Stinky Feet Jake only had a kid bike helmet and only rice to eat?  No salt.  Nothing.  So, we invited him to share our meal.  And then, because of the rain, we invited him to share our tent.

Do you still SMELL his feet when he took off his shoes and socks?  I thought we would die of “stink inhalation” that very night!

And the freakiest part was how he kept talking about the probability of being murdered on a wash in Austria that very night!

I am pretty sure you slept with your hand on your Leatherman.

He was the most interesting creature I have ever met…and I was GLAD when he took off the next day.  I do believe, however, it took us WEEKS to get rid of his “stinky feet”!

10.  Renting scooters with you in Corfu.  Actually, I am going to have to make memories 10 and 9 about Corfu, Greece!

Remember how we got the scooters for $10 for the ENTIRE day!  We scooted all over that island, in our bathing suits, stopping at different cliffs to jump off of, beaches to swim at, and then, oops, a Monastery.  Good thing they had wraps for people like us…a bit unprepared to enter a sanctuary!

When the rain started, remember how we were stuck on the side of the road when an older Greek gentleman invited us into his garage/apartment for cookies and coffee.  He didn’t speak a word of English…We not a word of Greek.  But, somehow, over cookies and coffee, no words were really needed.

We waited out the rain and had an absolute blast with our new Greek friend!

9.  YOU DANCING IN GREECE!  One of my all-time favorite memories of you was when you were called out on the dance floor at the show we were at in Greece!

First of all, you are extremely handsome.  But get you in front of an audience in Corfu, Greece, with Greek music playing—and you are not only FINE but QUITE THE ENTERTAINER!

They were showing you and the other participants how to dance with the table in your mouth.

I am going to go out on a limb and say they never suspected you were going to put that table in your mouth and take over the dance floor!  You had the crowd going wild.

The hosts for the evening lost control—but you were a hit!

I can still picture you twirling all Big Fat Greek Wedding style on the evening.  And you rocked!

Thanks for always being so much fun!

8.  Definitely one of my all time favs was swimming 5 months pregnant with the Manta Rays and you!  Feeding them was also a hoot.  Those Manta Rays would jump up on our legs like little dogs, all hungry and begging for food.  Remember how we had the entire place to ourselves because everyone else left to drink.  We just swam, and swam, and swam with these beautifully graceful creatures, stroking their slimy backs and in awe of how awesome they really were!

You already know I’m a huge animal lover…and so to be on this journey with you was awesome.  I’d swim with them daily if we lived in the Caribbean…Alas, God has planted us in Poland.  So, I guess now I’ll just swim with them in my sleep!

7.  Of course one of my favorite memories with you has to be on the SAME journey…5 months pregnant.  Except this time we’re snorkeling in the crystal blue waters.  And, oh, yes.  I was stung by a small jellyfish.  And yes, I was in pain!  But, you…You saw a lighthouse in the distance and insisted on still snorkeling.  After all, you were SURE you were going to find treasure!

On top of that, you said, “Stay near the boat!  They can help you if you get in trouble!”

And off you swam, leaving your pregnant, snorkeling wife all alone in the same water with the jellyfish that just stung her on the arm.

Again—not exactly what I expected my Prince Charming to do, much like the backpacking adventure.  But, I guess that is a huge part of marriage—realizing that fairytale and reality are two different things!

And, forevermore, I have a story to goad you about-leaving your pregnant, jellyfish-stung wife alone so you could go and find treasure.  You truly are unique (is that putting it mildly?).

6.  Singing a duet with you in church.  Was that brave or stupid?  And, without a doubt, I know the answer.   Stupid!  But, with you, I have already done so many crazy things that displaying my very out of tune, tone-deaf voice was just one other thing that I could now cross off of my bucket list of NEVER SHOULD HAVES…How you made it through the duet without laughing your head off, I’ll never know.  And how our lovely congregation made it through our song without either running out or busting up, is nothing short of a miracle itself!

Why I did it?  Who knows.  Put a microphone in my hand and I’ll pretty much do anything.

Wish it was in the era of digital recording because there are some days when I could REALLY use a great belly laugh.  And this moment of our marriage was one of the biggest of all times.

So thanks for going all Jesus SNL with me.  It probably seemed like a comedy skit—but I, with great intentions, sang my heart out.  With you.  For Jesus.

I’m not saying I made a joyful noise. It was probably not joyful.  And it was definitely noise.  But it was grand—because it was with you!

5.  Going to the train station with you for the first time to help serve the homeless an evening meal in Poznan, Poland.  You handed me the food and tea and said, “Wait outside!”  And then you disappeared.  Into the train station.  With your blue jacket and green beanie cap.

You emerged about 5 minutes later with 100 men and women behind you.  All hungry.  And all grateful you came.

I was stunned.  I knew you loved the other times you had been (I think 3 before I joined you), but now I understood why you went back.  Again.  And again.  And again.

And it was on this very night that I knew…the homeless had captured your heart.  And their spirits had captured your soul.

Compassion reigned and Bread of Life began.   That was 12 years ago this coming November.  12 years I would NEVER want to go back and erase.  12 years and 3 countries and over 28,000 served annually.

But that night, with your blue jacket and green beanie, will still be one of the most vibrant memories to me.  It was that night I saw how you put others before yourself and your heart expanded to include an entirely new family—strangers they were.  But family they became!

4.  I couldn’t include 13 years of marriage without reminding you of the time you nearly KILLED me in the air.  Yes.  I was brave, bold, and foolish enough to go up in the air with you, a new pilot, in a little tarp plane.  Something that was barely bigger than you and I combined.  And I have no affinity towards heights, air, or small planes.  Yet, because I was so proud of you, I went.  Up. Up.  Up.  And then you did it to me!  You planned my demise.  Because you let go of the controllers and you said, “Take over while I tie my shoes!”

I may have perhaps wet my pants a little on that trip (okay, exaggerating—but still).

I, in my very normal Brooke-nature, freaked out and probably called you crazy.  Perhaps a few other non-loving things, too.

I think you figured out rather quickly that your joke was not funny.  But it is still one of my greatest memories to this day.

Why?

Who knows…perhaps because I thought I was going to die.

Perhaps because that is when I actually realized how zany and funny you truly were.

I guess it took thousands of feet in the air with a mere piece of fabric/tarp for me to realize that.

Zany?  Funny?  Or simply crazy?  No matter, it solidified the fact that YOU definitely were the perfect match for me!

Just keep it on the ground from now on.

3.  Playing truth or dare with you in the mountains of Austria.  Remember that camping trip?  It was hilarious—and, although we’d been married for a couple years, we still found out so much about one another.

I think that is all I shall say here, publicly, though!

I do think, however, it was probably one of the first times we were actually vulnerable and honest with one another.  Funny how we were already married and yet still did not fully know the other.

Thanks for learning how to share truths with me.  I love you, crazy man!

2.  When I thought our marriage was over, and was sleeping in the next room, you came in, laid down next to me, and put your arm around my waist.  I did not like you at that moment.  In fact, it was probably near hatred.  And yet, that small gesture let something back into my life.  And it was a sliver of light.  Very small.  And yet it existed.  Then and only then I knew, by the grace and forgiveness of God, we could beat this battle of defeat.

And it was a long road full of complete surrender.  But we made it to the other side.

So, thank you for that “one last gesture”.  It helped keep our marriage alive.

***And the number 1 memory I carry in our 13 years together is this***

1.  The night that I and the doctors were sure Maxwell was going to die.  I had to call you, because you had JUST left to go and check on Adelyne.

I called you and said, “Richard!  Get back here.  Quickly!  You will NEVER forgive yourself if you are not here when your son passes away.”

And I just PRAYED you would make the hour drive back in time to say goodbye to your son.  And I cried the entire time waiting for your return.

You turned the car around and rushed back to the hospital.  But, when you walked in, you looked at me and said, “I will say ‘Goodnight!” but I will not say ‘Goodbye!’”  And you sat, holding your son’s lifeless hand, praying for him, and crying.

I was so weak and had such little faith at that moment in my life.  But you held on.  You remained strong.

And Maxwell eventually made it…out of the threshold of death back into life.

You, my Richard, were stalwart!

Thirteen years, Richie.  We have many memories.  Good, bad, ugly, sad, funny, and full of adventure.

We have them together, you and I, because we chose to say “I do!” and “I do too!” thirteen years ago.  And together we still remain.

Crazy.  In love.  And ready for more adventures together.

I love you, Richard!  Thank you for choosing me.

Forever yours,

Your B

I, too, believed the world was flat!

Parapunting (but not N. Zealand, Austria this time)

So, I was on the precipice of death and insanity.  And it seemed that I no longer had a choice.

You see, I was dumb enough to say that, “YES!  I would go skydiving for Richard’s sister’s 18^th birthday.”

What a moron.

First of all, I don’t like heights.

Second of all, I don’t like planes.

Thirdly, I don’t like the idea of being high in a plane and jumping out of it.

4^th of all, I am pretty sure that my bladder was not going to hold up during this excursion.

At this point in my life, I had already been parapunting in New Zealand.  Now that was awesome!  I was 19 and we were on the South Island.  Parapunting is when you run forward (tandem) and then your parachute fills with air and it pulls you backward, and then you run forward again until you basically RUN off the mountain and soar like a lovely bird down, down, down to the bottom.

You see…parapunting is not too scary because One:  you’re on solid ground when you start.  And Two:  when you “run” off of the mountain, your little legs are like hamsters in their plastic wheels, still churning.  It’s not until your bum pulls you down in a seat-like motion that you realize you are no longer running on the ground but soaring in the air.

The entire process is peaceful.

Skydiving.

Well, that’s another cup of tea.  Before we get there, however, let me also tell you that I have been bungee jumping in Vegas.

So, follow me to Nevada for a moment.  Ever since I jumped off a mountain in New Zealand, I thought jumping off a platform with a bungee cord attached to me sounded like fun.

Therefore, Richard, his brother, George, and I decided to head on up to Vegas.  We were young and no kids.  No sweat off of our backs — and it was a relatively cheap day trip.

Problem was, I didn’t think through being 17 stories high with only a bungee cord attached to my feet.  And you were suppose to go to the ledge, and plunge yourself over!  Yeah.  Right.  Good luck getting me off of this ledge.

So I stood there.  And the bungee cord operators said, “Okay, let’s count to three.  One.  Two.  Three.”

And I stood there.

And they said, “Okay.  Let’s count to three again.  One.  Two.   Three.”

And I stood there.  I figured they were getting paid to work.  And I was WORK!

They were like, “Brooke (you have to sign your life away, so they know your name), you need to jump.”

And I said, “Okay.  Let’s count to three one more time.  One.  Two.  Three.”

And I still stood there.

You know.  I am a fool—but I’m no fool.  17 stories and putting all my trust in a stupid cord?!

Anyhow…by this time, I have drawn a bottom crowd and people are egging me on to jump.

My brain told me “No!” and “Yes!” at the same time.  Which one was it?  What should I do?  What should I do?

And this is how my internal discussion went:

“No!  Don’t be a fool.  Don’t jump!”

Made total sense.  I do like to live.

“Yes!  Jump!  Be adventurous!”

Made no sense…but it’s the battle that won.

And so, with one more count to three, I jumped.

And I became a yo-yo!

Up and down and up and down and up and down I went…my bladder didn’t lose control, but my legs did.  They became like rubber.  I heard overhead the same Bungee cord operators shouting, “We have a shaker, folks!”

And they were right.  My legs were like Jello Jigglers.  Wobbly.  And every time I plunged at far too fast of a speed toward the earth below, I thought—“What in the world did I do!”  And then I would catapult up again.   It was non-military torture brought about by myself.  Kind of like diets.

Let’s just say, Bungee Jumping is not my favorite sport.  Can we call it a sport?

Finally I slowed down, was lowered, and released from the evil but life saving cord and swore I would NEVER do that again (Oh, right.  Haha!  I went tandem later with my husband in Austria.  I don’t talk much about it, but it’s mentioned in my story, Naked Rollerbladers.  Woe. To. Me:  http://wp.me/p3Bh9m-6Z).

A couple years after that thrilling, terrifying, life-defying event (in my opinion, life defying), I said yes to insanity once again.

And that is how I found myself attached to a peon of a little man.  Merely a boy.  With one foot on the wing of an old rickety plane, the other on the door, and between 7-10,000 feet high.

Waiting to die.

But before I was going to die, I decided to ask the small child that had my life in his hands, “Excuse me, how many jumps HAVE you done?”

And he said, in his squeaky, barely out of puberty voice, “500!”

So, I looked anew at my tiny tandem partner and thought, “Awesome.  That’s a lot.”

And then I looked at the man my husband was attached to and said, “How many do you have?”

And he said, something along the lines of “1 million!”  No, just kidding.  But it was in the VERY impressive thousands.

And I thought, “Unstrap me now, little boy, and attach me to my husband’s man!”

But no one would unstrap me—especially with an open airplane door, thousands of feet in the air.

And that is what brought me to the precipice of death and insanity.  And that is when I became a believer that the world WAS flat.  And soon I was going to be as flat as the world below.

I tried to reason with the “instructor” attached snugly to my backside, “Perhaps we don’t have to jump?”

He pretended with the wind in our faces he didn’t hear me.

What a load of crock.  And so I yelled louder.

But instead of listening, (KIDS, right?) he did something that I did NOT give the okay to…he plunged us right off of that wing and somersaulted us toward the earth.

This boy-child was no longer my favorite person.

And then it hit me…The flapping cheeks and the soar of the wind.

I truly DID feel like an eagle…twas super cool.

For a couple peaceful minutes I soared in the wind and observed the “flat” world around me.

But all of that plunging and soaring to the earth DOES have to come to an end…you know, if you want to land safely, and the ripcord was pulled.

Eventually we finished our trip down to the ground, with the parachute and the tiny man doing a good job maneuvering us to safety.

Perhaps I should have tipped him for keeping us alive?  Oops.

Anyhow…That day I realized something.

I don’t like small planes.

I don’t like parachutes.

I don’t like being 7-10,000 feet in the air with an open door.

But I did like “flying”.

Not so much that I would EVER do it again, though.

NEVER AGAIN.

You know.  The world was flat enough to me once. And now I’m glad to be safely upon it.  Two solid feet on the ground.

But my husband swears, “When Adelyne turns 18, I just KNOW you’re going to go and skydive with her!  I just know it.”

Does he now?

I really, really, really hope he’s not right!

But he probably is.

Sigh.  When will my insanity ever come to an end?

I’m all for naked babies—but naked rollerbladers?! Woe.To.Me!

Look!  We all love a naked baby photo shoot. To prove it, I’ll share a couple of my favorites.

Here is Maxwell.  Fat.  Naked.  Happy.  Glorious!  I am a proud momma.

And here, on the beach of Spain, is our other glorious child, Maxwell’s sister, Adelyne.  Sandy.  Free.  Naked.  Perfect!  I am a proud momma.

But I am not a fan of naked adults that decide the Great Outdoors is where they, too, should exercise.  Naked.  Well—a small strip of clothing did accompany this person…I’ll get there in a moment.

I know.  I know.   Get to the naked rollerblader, eh?!  I can’t.  Not yet.  You have to hear a little history first.

And it goes like this…

My husband and I are really big into camping.  Well, to be honest, it’s because it’s very economical-and, for the most part, we are rather…um…stable (note-that means not wealthy).  And, secondly, it’s because my husband is a former mountaineering/white-water-rafting guide (Colorado Rockies and Arkansas River).

Thus, when we traverse the glorious diversity of this fabulous continent called Europe, we mainly camp.  In tents.  With sleeping bags.  And eat rice.  Sometimes we add salt to the rice 😉 (Oh, heavens!  This reminds me of Stinky Feet Jake…He must return in a future blog!  It’s a promise I’ll bring Stinky Feet Jake back to life.)

And we love it.

In fact, one summer before we had children and we actually had about $300 to our name, we decided we needed a short vacation.  So we bought our train tickets, loaded our bikes, and headed off to Austria.  First stop on our journey (that’s after traveling through Poland and Czech on very old and noisy and SLOW trains)-Salzburg.  The Hills Were Alive with the Sound of Mozart!   

After our short Salzburg adventure, we took the train to Linz.  And from Linz is where the real adventure began.

The Plan:  Bike from Linz to Vienna, along the Danube, through the Austrian Alps.

Sleep where we could lay our heads.

Eat our rice.

Enjoy the wind blowing through our hair—er—bike helmets.

The End.

And absolutely everything we needed was in our bike packs.  Oooh boy, those bikes were heavy.

Note to all of those that don’t like to exercise: Biking through the Austrian Alps with packs full of camping gear…Yeah.  Better not go there.  Tough stuff.  Nuff said.

We were young.  We had energy.  We had bikes.  We loved exercise (I am obviously not the same present-day-person as this adventurous gal)!  And we were off!

The scenery was as breathtaking as you can imagine.  And we slept in AWESOME spots.

One night, we were so tired as we biked slowly into a little village that we found the first available spot—a field of sunflowers.  Sunflowers that reached the sky.  And we were surrounded by them.  And we threw our sleeping bags on the ground in this field.  And we threw our weary bodies, without dinner, into our bags, and we dreamed beautiful dreams.  After all, we were sleeping in a field of sunflowers.

Actually—that’s not true.  We were in a glorious field of sunflowers, but it started to rain on us.  And so we pulled out the tarp—but we refused to make the tent.  So we threw the tarp over our sleeping bags and tucked our heads in and BAM.  Lights out for us!  Rain did not impede our slumber.

The next morning we woke up to misty sleeping bags and smiling sunflowers.  A post card to be sure.

And we were off again.  No time to lose.  No money to lose time.

And that’s when it happened.  The Naked Rollerblader.

BUT BEFORE THE NAKED ROLLERBLADER THERE WAS MORE NAKEDNESS.  EVERYWHERE! 

Woe.To.Me!

So, Rich and I are biking along a path of the river that is rather calm.  And there are many sunbathers—both next to the river and on the other side of the path.

I spotted them ALL immediately.  Naked.  Naked.  Naked as the day they were born. Naked.

And, not being Pamela Andersen, I sternly cautioned my husband…

“Don’t look to the left!

And…

“Don’t look to the right!”

And, being the gentleman that he is (or scared of his wife’s wrath—wise man), he said, “Okay.”

But—I couldn’t prepare anyone for what was going to happen next.

As we’re finally getting out of the naked war zone, someone zooms past us on rollerblades.

And this someone was a young lady…without clothes…wearing only a string of underwear.  Yep.  Right in front of us.

What could I do?  Yell, “Don’t look straight!”

She was obviously trapped a couple Millennial back, preparing for the Olympics of Ancient Greece.  Naked.

And just like there are winners and losers at the Olympics, I seceded present-day victory.

I had LOST the European battle—Naked won.

And we biked on.

Eventually we made it to Vienna.  Thankfully, people in the city are a bit more partial to clothes.

We camped.  We went Bungee Jumping.  We had a great time.

Fully clothed.

How about you?  Any hilarious stories while traveling abroad?

Celebrating the Mad Scientist…

(c. Dan Pan photography)

Actually, he’s my dad!  And today is his 71^st birthday.  If you ask Adelyne, she’ll tell you that he’s turning 213.  Yes—we’ve encouraged her wild imagination.  Perhaps at times too much?!

My dad is a classic Mad Scientist—brilliant and an outstanding educator—yet there are so many other things that I have also learned from my dad.

Here’s a few gems:

Have fun…Life is short!

Play with your children…Life is short!

Go on adventures with your spouse…Life is short!

He also taught us:

Work hard…

Serve others…

Give generously…

Love endlessly…

Honor your spouse faithfully…

And love God wholly…

Today, as we celebrate his 213^th birthday, I want to encourage you to be like my dad, Mr. J!

1.  Always invest in the education of children.

2.  Don’t be afraid to jump off a mountain in Austria (even if you did just have your hip replaced and you are 65 years old).

3.  Cheer wildly for the local football team in a foreign country, in a language you don’t even know, on the City Hall steps at midnight, with a bunch of intoxicated fans…and have a blast doing so!

 4.  Dance freely in a 2,600-yr-old settlement in Poland with beautiful ladies.

 5.  And support your children wholly…every step of the way…into a life of their own.

(c. photo Bill Holmes)

Sto lat, Daddy.  We love you so!