Happy Birthday to my love!

I met Joy on the very first day I was visiting my new school in 10th grade.  My dad was a teacher there, as was Joy's mom, and as any teacher's kid can attest, this means you get to help get classrooms set-up in the week before school starts.  I remember hanging out in the office, talking to one of the secretaries, when in walked three blondes.  I wish I could say I fell head over heels in love at first sight, but what was actually going through my head was, "Geez, they're all blonde, how am I going to remember which one is which?"  Of course now I know that they were Joy, Kendra, and Vicki, all of whom remain close friends to this day.  This is probably her greatest quality...friendship.  Those of you who know her, know that her friendship and caring are undying.  She sticks with people, listens to their problems, prays with them and for them, with an endurance that I can't even begin to comprehend.

One of the interesting things about our relationship is that while Joy and I didn’t start “dating” until college, we were each other’s first date.  We went to Homecoming that sophomore year in what we often joke was the most awkward date ever.  I couldn’t drive yet (I’m five months younger), so we went in her car.  All I really knew about her was that she played violin and piano, and all she really knew about me was that I ran the sound for the praise and worship team for our school’s morning chapels.  I think we both breathed a sigh of relief when we got to the after-party at her house that night.

Over the next couple of years, I developed crushes an at least 80% of the girls in my class at one point or another, dated one of them (funnily enough, Joy’s best friend, and later her maid of honor), and through it all, Joy and I remained close friends, talking easily every day as we toiled away on the Praise and Worship team, sat in class, or especially senior year as we attended a community college class together and shared time in the hallway during free periods.  By the end of our senior year, I was even talking about girls I liked with her (this is now an infamous instance of my boy-like idiocy in our household).  At one point, shortly before graduation, I told her that she was one of just a few people I still wanted to stay in contact with after graduation, and I meant it with my whole heart.  Her intelligence and beauty were already becoming something I was craving regular contact with, even before I recognized that I was “in like” with her.

We ended up both going to Oral Roberts University in Tulsa, and we quickly became closer than ever.  In a wide sea of unfamiliar faces, having someone from home was comforting, even as we pushed ourselves to meet new people.  I was quickly realizing that I had pretty strong feelings for her, and I wasn’t sure what I was going to do about it.  My dad had often remarked about Joy when we were in high school together, and even when we were friends, I never really looked at her romantically, I think more out of rebellion to my dad than anything else.  Now that we were on our own, my feelings quickly became solid and unmistakable within me.  I think in the face of new friends and experiences that tend to drive people apart as they develop their own identities, I realized I didn’t want to have a life apart from her.  She had lent me an Elizabeth Elliott book to read, and I asked her if we could meet and discuss the book.  I think at the time that was probably my intention, but subconsciously my heart was setting me up.  We met by the dorms, and started walking.  Six hours later, by Lake Evelyn, I told her how I felt about her, and to my eternal gratitude, she felt the same.

I have never looked back.  It has been ten years, and my love has only grown.  We have been married almost 8 years now, and we have a beautiful 3 year old daughter.  As the years have gone by, I have found new ways to celebrate birthdays and anniversaries, and I always wonder if I’ll be able to adequately show her my appreciation the next year.  One thing she has always wanted from me was my “version” of our story.  This I’m pretty sure is as close as I’m going to get. 

I discovered a list as I was writing this that I made to celebrate our third anniversary, and it still applies so well, I’m going to copy it here, with some minor editing to bring it up to date.  New comments are in parentheses.

Things I Love about Joy

1. Her sweet Smile.  It brightens any room.
2. The way she laughs.  It warms my heart.
3. The way she smells when I hold her close.
4. The softness of her lips.
5. The way she always wants to spend time together.
6. Our “silly” times together.
7. The way she makes me laugh.
8. The fact that she never wants to wear a coat in the cold.
9. Her love of rain and overcast days.
10. Her love for family… hers and mine both.
11. Her Synesthesia.
12. The way she looks into my eyes, like peering into my soul.
13. How she hates people making a pun out of her name, even though I find it appropriate to her disposition.
14. The way she keeps in contact with friends through email, chat, letters, and the phone.  I have nothing but admiration for her dedication to friendship, even if it results in personal pain for her.
15. Her tenderness.  She is the most compassionate person I know.
16. Her passenger seat driving. J
17. Her disdain for shoes in anything but the worst weather.
18. The way she finds me amusing.
19. Her obsession with Friends, (and now The Office.)
20. Her love of chips and dip.  Lunch, Dinner, Breakfast, Afternoon Snack, Midnight Snack, Midmorning Snack, etc.
21. The way we both love food…she is my true soulmate…either that or we’re both very in tune with our German heritage.
22. Her travel history.  Joy has been to the most amazing places, and I love having a world traveler for a wife.
23. Her criminal history.  Her tales of international smuggling are great for parties!
24. The way she puts up with my geekiness, while never denying it.
25. Her sensitivity.  She cries at movies and sad stories, I used to get freaked out by it, but I love it all the same. (I’m so used to it by now I actually laughed at this one.)
26. Her clumsiness.  She is so cute when she knocks something over.  (Ow, my head still hurts.  I’m getting dizzy… why is everything blurry?) J
27. Her bright intelligence.  I never have to worry about talking over her head, and she is the best person to have a conversation with I have ever met.
28. Her girliness.  She has definitely decorated differently than I would have left to myself, but everything looks better because of it.
29. Her tolerance.  I still get my room (the office), to do with as I wish.(The office is now Ryley’s room, and “my stuff” is mostly in the garage, but I hold our hope that I’ll get that room back one day.)
30. Her writing ability.  She is amazing.  I love to read her writing, and I know she’ll be famous someday.
31. Her ambition.  While her goals may change, she never lets go of her dreams.
32. Her memory.  How she finds room to store all the little details is beyond me, but I think it’s amazing.
33. Her adventurous spirit.  She is always up for something new, even if I’m not.
34. The fact that she is a detective.  “He’s good, but he ain’t that good!”
35. Her patience with developmentally disabled adults. (She used to work with them.)
36. Her lack of patience with stupidity.
37. Her sarcasm…never meant to hurt, always just funny.
38. The way she can make me crack a smile no matter what mood I’m in.
39. Her knowledge and love of grammar.  What’s wrong with number 38?
40. Her absolute love and zeal for the Lord.
41. Her knowledge of and love for music.  Her natural ability amazes me, and I can’t wait until I can buy her that Baby Grand someday.
42. The way holding her makes everything seem alright.
43. Her work ethic.  As much as I complain, I still find it endearing the way she rarely can sleep when there are clothes on the floor.
44. Her playfulness.  I love that she’s always up for a good time.
45. Her caffeine addiction. (This has only gotten worse.)
46. Her love of  children.  She will be the world’s best mother someday, and my kids get that privilege. J(She is, and they do.)
47. Her knowledge of computer programs…especially Word.  My own personal help line!
48. Her love of language, foreign, written, and spoken.
49. Her crazy dreams.  Weirder than any movie, more detailed than any book.
50. Baby Talk.  The Sixth Love Language.  (This is an inside joke, not meant to be understood.)

Currently Listening The Presidents of the United States of America By Presidents of the United States of America Peaches see related

I think I have a decent shot at winning the title of "World's Most Whipped Daddy."  Yesterday I took my daughter to Toys 'R' Us to get a head start on her Christmas wish list.  My instructions were simple-see what she seems to really like, and write it down.  On the surface, this seems like a simple procedure, but when you have a three year old like Ryley, whose interest vary greatly, a 30 minute trip turns into at least an hour and a half.  We played with the Thomas trains, looked at princess books (which she can spot at 100 paces at least), spent 30 minutes in the princess aisle alone, looked at videos, dolls, games, playsets, furniture, bicycles, and Barbie Power Wheels cars.  As I tagged patiently along, I wrote down things like: Ariel Wedding Dress, Tinkerbell Playset, Princess Make-up kit, and "She likes chairs."  Not exactly what I had in mind when I graduated with a minor in creative writing.  The ultimate had to be when I strung together four words that I never expected to use in the same day, much less consecutively, "Glitter Princess Sparkle Castle." 

That's right, a three year old has me wrapped around her finger.  Tonight I found myself in the corner of a room of our church, watching my two beautiful girls make bracelets,

while I held a princess wand, a princess jacket, and pink plush shoulder wrap.  I don't know why my daughter doesn't understand when I won't let her paint my fingernails.  Another month of "home rest" and I'm pretty sure I would be doing that too.  It's all worth it, though, when she says things like, "Daddy, today I want to stay home and be your friend,"  and "You're my favorite boy!"  I assured her that that would not always be the case, but I don't think she believed me.  I'm okay with that.

Currently Listening Corinne Bailey Rae By Corinne Bailey Rae Like a Star see related

Alright, Joy has posted pictures of my head, and about the Broncos game as well, so I told her that I needed to post my own picture of my ultimate achievement...a carved Broncos logo on a pumpkin!  I, like most people, have walked past those "pumpkin-carving kits"  that stores put out year after year and never given them a second thought.  Why pay for tools that do exactly what knives I already own can do as well?  I am now a believer.  Since we were going to a pumpkin carving party, we shelled out the $3.88 at Wal-mart, and I found I could do amazing things with the little saws and stencils.  Here is our pumpkin from that party:

And here is my own attempt at the Bronco, traced from a printout.  As you can tell, I'm very proud.

Broncos 13, Raiders 3

Well, it's been two days and I have reflected enough on the experience of a lifetime to write.  On Sunday night, Joy and I finally enjoyed my birthday present (six months after the fact) and went to the Broncos game.  They were incredible tickets, on the front row in the corner of the endzone, and against my most-hated team, the Oakland Raiders.  I won't bore you with my way-too-intense love of all things football, and quote stats and plays from the game, except to say that we were right next to the tunnel where the Raiders came out,

and the Broncos' only big offensive play (a 50+ yard pass), only touchdown(a 2 yard run), and really big defensive play (an interception right in front of the goal line)all happened right in front of us, within about 50 feet.

Monday I woke up with a sore throat from all the screaming...which most of you who know me know is extremely unlike my usual self.  I have never been part of a bigger crowd, with the exception of World Youth Day when it came to Denver in 1993, with an attendance of 500,000.  I think I finally gained insight into the so-called "mob mentality."  There is something extremely hypnotic and powerful about 76,000 people all focused on the same thing, and when the Raiders were on offense, and the crowd was screaming as loud as it could to cause false-start penalties (there were eight on Sunday), it was easily the loudest sound I have ever experienced.

 Two years ago, I put my name, as an act of faith, on the waiting list for season tickets.  They say it takes an average of 5 to 6 years for your name to come up, as there are about 24,000 names on the list.  I figured that even though I couldn't afford them then, I would when my name came up.  After that experience, there is no way that I won't find a way to pay for them.  I can then enjoy that experience, cheering my Broncos in person, 8 times a year.

Currently Listening Idlewild By OutKast PJ & Rooster see related

What I'd like to write about may make me sound ungrateful, but please understand that I'm not.  The way people have reached out to us and made us feel loved as I recover from surgery has been so appreciated, it honestly is more than I ever expected.  With that being said, however, eating other people's cooking raises issues one may not face regularly otherwise.  Tonight we had one of several dinners that people from church have made us, and it brought up an interesting question.  We had baked spaghetti with meat, sun-dried tomatoes, a red sauce, and corn. 

Here is where I would play that old Sesame street song, "Which of these things doesn't belong?" 

In your average casserole, why do people insist on adding corn?  In what culinary school do they teach that corn is the missing ingredient from an otherwise perfect dish?  It doesn't even match the genre of cooking.  Do we add pasta noodles to our tacos?  Of course not, it doesn't work.  I understand that experimentation yields some delicious, yet unlikely combos.  Chocolate milk? Wonderful.  Hard-boiled eggs and sliced deli meat in a salad?  For some reason it works.  But I have yet to ever hear anyone bite into a big mouthful of anything and say, "You know what this could use?  Some corn."  And yet generations of mothers have added corn to the casseroles of America, and I for one think the reputation of casseroles and corn both have suffered because of this combination.  Not that anyone is asking me, of course.