My Girl

It was the spring of 1979 and I was on board Amtrak’s train, The Capital Limited, en route from Washington, DC to Chicago. I had just endured a long week of training at the Xerox Training Center, in Leesburg, Virginia. It had been a challenging week with new co-workers from all over the country. We’d worked long hours and I was pretty overwhelmed with all the new knowledge I’d taken in, but excited to be on my way home to begin my new job as an Amtrak Sales Representative.

My co-worker and I had boarded the overnight train to Chicago, where we’d change trains to the Southwest Limited, continuing on to Los Angeles the next day. We’d been on the train a few hours and decided to meet in the dining room for dinner. The diner was full, so we were standing in a hallway, waiting for a table to open up, when the aroma of food cooking invaded my senses and an overwhelming wave of nausea engulfed me.

I made an immediate u-turn and bolted back to the sleeper car and my Roomette, as they were called in those days. I flung open the door, opened the toilet and immediately vomited into a stainless steel receptacle.

I knew, in that instant , that I was pregnant. I who hadn’t thrown up in over a decade, knew with certainty that this was not some 24 hour bug. I returned to the dining room with this amazing piece of knowledge in my head, ate a light dinner and returned to my room where I pulled down my bed and settled in for a night of dreams of the life to come.

We arrived in Chicago the next day and with a layover ahead, I headed to the Sears Tower, where I found a book store and purchased a book of names, which provided hours of reading between Chicago and Los Angeles. My mind was spinning in a million directions. I was excited. I was surprised. I was nervous. I anticipated telling Mike he was going to be a Daddy. There were no cell phones, and no way to share this life changing information with anyone that mattered. So, as Mary did, I treasured it in my heart, contemplating the knowledge that I was going to be a mother. Bliss.

My whole life, to that point, I dreamed of and planned on becoming a mother, ideally to five little ones. It was not negotiable. It was who I was. When I married a man who had two half-grown children, I thought for a while that they would fill that place in my heart. But the moment I knew that I had a baby growing in me, it was as if my most fervent dream had finally come true. I was going to have a baby to love and care for. My own. Flesh of my flesh.

That was a long time ago. And, 32 years ago, today, after nine months of relentless nausea, vomiting and anticipation, I gave birth to a 9 lb. 2 ½ oz. baby girl. My girl. Amanda Ann. She, with her transluscent skin and reddish hair, round face and rolls of flesh--could she be mine? I expected a sickly little thing, the result of my incessant throwing up. But, this was a specimen of health, a beautiful, “fluffy” baby girl, sucking her thumb contentedly in the delivery room.

The first night at home, her Dad was down with the flu. My mom had offered to come over to help, but, I declined, feeling confident that I could handle it. By 9 that evening I was on the phone in tears, unable to comfort her or stop her crying. My mom, the original baby whisperer, came to the rescue and helped us through that first night.

Within a week, our girl was sleeping through the night. But, that first week, I remember getting up alone in the wee hours one night, holding her in my arms. I was in our kitchen, leaning against the back door and holding her in my arms, overwhelmed with emotion and in awe of the love I felt for this little one who had done absolutely nothing to earn it. I realized in that moment what “Mother Love” was. And, in that moment, I also realized how much my own mother loved me.

Fast forward 32 years. Today, Amanda Ann Mandish is Amanda Ann Green, wife to Daniel, Mother to Ruby and a daughter loved beyond description. To say those 32 years flew by isn’t too far off base. To say that every year has been a blessing is dead on.

She has grown into a woman of excellence- a Proverbs 31 woman, in progress. She is a young woman who loves Jesus and works to serve Him in her daily life. She is a wife who honors her husband- he who knows she can be trusted and supports his dreams and plans for their family. She has a heart full of compassion and opens her hand to those in need…a friend who is concerned and also propelled to action. She is a loving and firm mother to the most beautiful child I know. She works hard and has created a beautiful home for her family. She exercises hospitality and looks for ways to stretch her resources. She is even learning to cook! She exudes a beauty that comes from not just a lovely appearance but an attitude that smiles at the future and works through the challenges of life.

She has been a blessing so great. As a young girl, I hoped to have five children, but, Amanda is my only child. I have often kiddingly remarked that, “when the first one is perfect, you can stop.” Reality is, that although I would have welcomed the blessing of more children, it just didn’t work out that way. Even so, there are no regrets. My girl--she erased all the possible regrets. I could not have asked for a better daughter, a sweeter spirit, a kinder, more loving girl to call my one and only.

Today she is my daughter and my friend. She is beautiful, inside and out. Today I celebrate her existence. Her kindness. Her generosity. Her heart. This grateful heart is full to the brim when I view you and the woman you have become. There are not enough words to express how blessed I am to be your mom. Happy Birthday to My Girl. I could not love you more.

“Charm is deceitful and beauty is vain, but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised. “ Proverbs 31:30

It's not about me: the daily struggle continues...

The gifts of community are great. They are also sometimes burdensome. Relationships bring joy and laughter, tenderness and anticipation. They also bring frustration and sorrow and sometimes a heavy heart. We want to share the joy, but sometimes we're called to grieve with the grieving, weep with the tearful and comfort the hurting. Sympathy and compassion are crucial to relationship and, I admit I often fail to extend enough of either.

Walking alongside another is easy when life is smooth and when our companions are healthy and whole, their attitudes positive and their bodies, strong. It is less easy, and frankly, less appealing, when their attitudes are in the toilet and they are growing physically weak, unable to participate in life's activities due to failing capabilities or lack of enthusiasm due to depression or weariness or down right inertia. Relationships are hard work. Whether in marriage, friendship or with a relative or a co-worker; they happen in different contexts but they all have seasons of comfort and seasons of struggle.

Most Americans have lives of relative ease compared to the average world citizen. We have homes to live in, beds to sleep in, food to eat and incomes to satisfy both our needs and many "wants". We are bombarded in our culture with those who have"more"- more money, more beauty, more vigor, more health, more education, etc., and hence, we are often guilty of believing that we are deprived and that we "deserve" to have what we lack.

The result is that we frequently become even more self involved than we naturally are. We exercise excessively, we spend more time online that we do face to face, spend hours in front of the television but whine if church lasts 5 minutes longer than we expected. Why is it that I can spend hours reading a book I'm engrossed in but struggle to study the Word of God for consistent amounts of time? Why can I mindlessly chatter to a friend for hours and yet struggle to spend significant time in prayer? I can find ample time in my busy schedule to go to classes at the gym several times a week, but, can't seem to find time to keep my spiritual life strong and consistent?

The truth is we all give up too easily. In relationships and in our own lives. We look inward too much and outward too little. I have heard from several different sources lately that marriage may well be intended to refine us. There is no relationship as close or as long lasting as marriage can be. In marriage, if we are constantly concerned about my needs, my rights, my desires and what I deserve, we will often be unhappy. No matter who you are joined to, that person was never intended to meet all of your needs. Further, marriage was never intended to make life easy. When we begin to release the notion of "Prince Charming" and living "happily ever after" and instead look for opportunities to grow and learn and serve within the relationship, that is where the refining process begins to bear fruit.

Life is not easy. Not for anyone. It wasn't meant to be. It's a journey. Like most journeys, there are right and wrong turns. There are great roads with beautful views and conversely there are winding unpaved roads with ruts you may temporarily get stuck in. We all have unique journeys, but we are all fellow travellers. Some people join us in our journey for the long run, others for brief periods of time. Some we think will always share the road and then one day they're gone. Sometimes we understand why and sometimes we don't. Sometimes we are on a bumpy, uncomfortable road longer than we think we can bear and sometimes we believe we are going to avoid those pot holes all together.

In relationship, as in life, we have to learn perseverance. As a follower of Jesus, there is an even greater responsibility. We who call Him "Lord" have an obligation, a sacred duty to bring Him glory. In a nutshell, for me, that means overcoming my self focus so that it's no longer about me...my comfort and peace. It's a daily battle. But, having lived a little while, I realize that an unhealthy focus on myself, my needs, my just desserts, my desires, "what's fair" and even what I don't deserve, are at the heart of most of the struggles of my life. Difficult circumstances are common to all of us. Whether visible to the human eye or not, every human being has heartache, struggles, and battles to fight. If my identity is tied to the battles I fight, I will most assuredly loose that battle, becoming a victim. If I accept my circumstances, lay them at the cross and trust the Saviour to either (a) get me through them, (b) carry me over them or (c) give me the grace to live with them, then, I can be victorious and the glory will be His. Whatever the outcome.