Allison + Mike = Twenty One Years!!!

Today, December 21, I've been married for 21 years. Our wedding fell exactly 4 months after our first date. It was love (I mean, luuuuv!) back then, and it is today. We chose this date from a mixture of passion and practicality--it fell in the middle of Christmas break, giving us time to settle in as newlyweds before going back to teaching; it came at a time that would make it easy for family members to travel and attend; 12-21 just sounded cool. (Of course, we had our fair share of "Longest night of the year" wink, wink, nudge, nudge jokes.)

We went into this marriage thing as each other's best friend. Twenty-one years and three kids later, that has not changed. I still enjoy my Mikey's company far and above any other. I get a little thrill just driving to the library together. Nobody else can make me laugh like he does. I may very well be one of the few people who looks forward to the empty nest like it's a life-long trip to DisneyWorld.

Back when we stood at the front of that church and made our vows, Mikey had no idea what all he was getting into. He didn't know he was promising to spend the next 21 years tripping over the shoes I leave in the middle of the living room floor. I didn't know about his annoying habit of constantly locking doors. And neither of us knew that, during those seasonal transitional times, one of us would always be a little too hot, or a little too cold. We didn't know we'd lose a baby, miss a mortgage payment, or face a holiday without a complete set of parents. On the other hand, we couldn't have foreseen the joy of three healthy sons, a forgotten $20 bill found in a sock drawer, or a final car payment (even if the car is a Kia mini-van).

People will say that marriage is messy--and it is. But if you get the mess just right, it's the most fun two people can have. We'll be celebrating today with a Disney movie (Tangled) and maybe lunch somewhere. Our first date was lunch and a movie--Parenthood--so, it seems right. What I know for sure is that today will bring laughter, and a little complaining because it's too hot for December. Nothing spectacular, just ordinary. But, oh, how I praise God for ordinary days.

A Coat of Muted Colors

Throughout December, I'll be sharing some of my favorite Christmas stories in the form of Advent Season devotionals. What an honor to share my memories!

Give generously to him and do so without a grudging heart; then because of this the Lord your God will bless you in all your owrk and in everything you put your hand to.

[Deuteronomy 15:10] -- NIV

What a treat it was, shopping with my mother and her friend Darlene. We bought new socks for my brother and underwear for my sisters. Apparently my mother didn't think I needed anything, but when we eventually wandered into the Girls 4-6x department of Sears, my hopes began to rise as we found ouselves in outerwear. A new coat? Snow pants? I ran my finges along the sleeves and cuffs, loving the vvvttt sound of stubby fingernails on nylon. I was in anticipatory heaven.

"My niece needs a new winter coat," said Darlene. "Her parents can't afford to buy her one, so I'm planning to." She bent to my level and put her arm across my shoulder as if engaging me in a a secret mission. "Would you help me pick one out? She's about your age."

"Couldn't we just give her my old coat?" I asked. "Then I could get a new one."

"We really can't afford a new coat either right now," my mother said. "Maybe for Christmas."

Oh, now this was fair. Choose her coat? Why not ask me to drive a knife through my heart with my own hand? Goodness knows my old coat wouldn't be thick enough to protect me from its fatal stab.

Thumbing through the rack half-heartedly, I removed a garment. It was hideous, and as much as my mother tried to talk me into something else, I insisted this was the perfect coat for that lucky little girl--all the while inwardly gloating that she would be stuck wearing it all winter. I figured she ought to be grateful she got a new coat at all; I wasn't getting one.

Until, under my mother's wise, watchful eye, I unwrapped that very coat for Christmas.

Father, help me not to focus on what I do not have, but rather to see the abundance of blessings heaped all around me. Help me to love those in need, to see the void in their lives, and to be a vehicle for the generosity of the Holy Spirit.

(2001)

Proving Jesus

So...I get this email:





"I challenge to present the hard PROOF for your Christian CLAIM that Jesus Christ is the truth, etc! (John 14:6)"

And, I thought I'd share my response. Would love to hear your thoughts--where I went right, where I (gulp!) went wrong, and how you would respond to the same challenge.

My response:



Dear E--


There are three reasons why you are asking me this question.





One, that you have a sincere, seeking heart, looking for reassurance of what you hope to be true—that Jesus Christ is the way, the truth and the life. If this is the case, it is my prayer that my answer will give you reassurance and will invite you into a relationship with him.





Two, that you are a fellow Christian, inviting me to the challenge in 1 Peter 3:15, "Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have. But do this with gentleness and respect, keeping a clear conscience, so that those who speak maliciously against your good behavior in Christ may be ashamed of their slander."





Three, that you are one of those from 1 Peter 3:15, seeking to speak maliciously.





That said...here's my answer!





I could bring your attention to the fact that, as his life is recorded in the Gospels of Matthew, Mark, Luke and John, Jesus fulfills the prophecies of a thousand years before, recorded in the books of Isaiah and Daniel. I could tell you that, were the promises of his power not true, we would not have seen this new “religion” sweep through the world and endure—unchanged in its message—more than two thousand years later. I could go on with the statistics of his resurrected appearances being the best documented historical even of its era.



But, really, the best proof I have is my own life. I can tell you that I never live a day without hope. I can tell you that, even with the tragic death of my brother, I had (and still have) an unyielding sense of peace and comfort because of the promise of eternal life with Jesus Christ that both he and I share. And I can tell you that I see miracles in my life every day—prayers answered before I even knew to pray them. I look at the troubles in this world, and I have no fear because Jesus told us there would be troubles in this world. Things may be awful sometimes, but they are not out of his control. I have accomplished things in my life that I never could have accomplished in my own power—including answering this email, because after my first flash of defensiveness, I took a deep breath, hit “reply” and asked Jesus, through the Holy Spirit, to reply through me.



You referenced John 14:6 in your email. I invite you to the next verse—If you really knew me, you would know my Father as well. From now on you do know him and have seen him. (John 14:7) That’s all the proof I can offer—the Jesus of the scriptures, and the Jesus of my life. One and the same.

Allison Pittman and the Terrible, Horrible, No-good, Very Bad Day

...actually, it stretched over several days. But anyway--so, at least a month ago I got my notice to renew my driver's license, and I spent all of the intervening time reminding myself to do so. In Texas we can renew on line, just a matter of logging in. No lines, no hassle, no problem. So, of course, I didn't do it. Instead, I was at the DMV first thing on expiration day, standing in line, only to find that I had a flag up, and I needed to present my social security card.

Now, the average adult can probably either whip open their wallet, or open a drawer, and find that little blue card instantly. Not so, me. No clue. Don't even remember the last time I saw the thing. Like, in years. So a great part of the day is spent turning the house over and over and over.

Part II--After a weekend of driving across two states on an expired license, I go to the social security office to get a new card. Armed with a tax return, marriage certificate, said license, teacher certificate everything but a birth certificate (ironically, my SSC is tucked away with it...somewhere), my number is called. I present my information, but nothing there will give me a card. A print-out that yes, I am who I say I am, but no card. Apparently I needed a secondary form of ID to prove I am who I say I am. Something with a picture and date of birth. Or DOB and SSN. She hands me a list--but nothing.

INTERMISSION--Trip to DMV with print out from SSO, but no-go. They need a card. Hysterical phone call to husband. He's very sweet and understanding, given that I'm in this mess because I never got a new SSC with my married name.

Part III--Hubby has broken through my hysteria to direct me to our life insurance policy. There you go! My name, SSN, DOB. Back to the SSO, wait for my number, get the same sweet woman. I show her the policy and say, "If this doesn't work, my husband's going to be cashing this in today." She laughs, and gives me a new letter that more specifically identifies me as saying I am who I say I am. Back to DMV to try again. Nope. No card, no license.

SUMMARY--100 miles driven, 51/2 hours wasted, no food consumed, potty-bread postponed from office to office.

EPILOGUE--After succumbing to a tension headache-induced nap, I woke up to a family wanting, of all things, dinner. From behind the ice-pack, I beckoned to my youngest child, please, please...go see if there's a frozen pizza in the freezer. There was; it was the best spot in my day. Later, as we gathered around this feast, heads bowed to bless it, the Lord gave this to me: I thanked Him for loving me enough to provide this meal at the end of an awful day, but then I realized this awful day was due to my negligence. It was I who hand't played by the rules of our government. Rules meant to keep people like me safe. If nothing else, it means I'm driving very, very carefully!

Happy Birthday to (and for, and with) Me!!

It has been an unusual birthday. Private and inauspicious. I'm turning a boring number (I prefer odd, prime numbers--this year I'm 44: even and repetitious), and I actually never gave it much thought. Except to request a very specific gift. A stapler. Last year's unfortunate choice of dinner in quite possibly the worst Italian restaurant outside of a hospital setting meant that I didn't have too far to reach to make this year better. And, as I find myself alone in a LaQuinta hotel in north Texas, some might think that I've got another loser year on my hands. But anybody who thinks that doesn't know me--not really.

To catch you up: I made a commitment months ago to speak with an ACFW chapter in Shreveport, Louisiana. Yes, at the time I committed I knew it would mean driving up on my birthday. And, honestly, my first thought was--"Yippee! Now I don't have the pressure of planning what "to do" on my birthday." Because, if you know me, you know that parties, celebrations, special occasions--not really my thing. They bring the same kind of nerve-wracking pressure of ordering at Luby's (something else I avoid).

But, that doesn't mean I don't love my friends--my family--all the special people in my life. So, as I drove the 500 or so miles, I had my trusty BlackBerry in its cubby in the dash, and every 10 miles or so, I'd hear the distinctive chime of a FaceBook update. A posting on my wall...and I knew each posting was a birthday wish. (I assumed...for safety reasons I didn't confirm until later!) It was like having everyone right along with me, and I said a little "Thank You" to the Lord each time, because He's blessed me with so many wonderful people. Because, if you know me, you know I might not be overtly social, but I'm a lover of people! (and...of FaceBook)

Driving all those miles gave me the longest uninterrupted reading time I've had in months. I listened to Truman Capote's In Cold Blood... which I have wanted to read forever, but have never gotten around to. If you know me, you know I love true crime (murder, mayhem, I.D. TV), and this book is mesmerizing. And beautifully written. Listened to exactly 1/2 on the way up, will listen to 1/2 on the way home. One book in 2 days. That only happens when I drive!

I'm enjoying a free night's lodging thanks to points accumulated in the LaQuinta rewards program (and if you know me, you know there's nothing more relaxing than a hotel room to myself!); I had a BLT for dinner (and iykm, you know that is traditional birthday fare); and the BLT came from a Waffle House (and iykm, you know that I have always wanted to eat at a Waffle House).

Tomorrow I'll spend a few hours hanging out with writers--my FAVORITE genre of person, and then a long, lovely ride home. But, for now, I'm watching Dateline NBC, fixing to read every posting on my page (might not respond to all--there's a ton!!), and watch last week's episode of Huge on Hulu. It's not the birthday everybody would want, but I realize it's a birthdy meticulously planned by Somebody who knows me. And for that--and for the blessings of the year--I am truly, blissfully happy.

Oh, and tomorrow I'll come home to a chocolate turtle cheesecake prepared by my son. So, that's cool, too.

Our Joe

For those of you who have read Saturdays with Stella, you know what a treasure she is to us. And, if you subscribe to my newsletter, you know that, just over a year ago, we inherited another dog...Joe. Joe belonged to my father-in-law, Wayne, and when Wayne passed away last year, Joe became part of our inheritence. He is, in many ways, like Wayne. Gruff and stubborn, he moves around with a distinctive limp. When we first brought Joe into our household, I admit I was less than enthusiastic. My standard line was this: "The bad news is, he weighs 85 pounds; the good news is, he's 13 years old."

In recent weeks, though, Joe's health has taken a sharp decline. He's obviously in a great deal of pain. In fact, he moves only from the door, to his big pillow, to the food dish, and back. His evening walks are little more than a few steps out of our alley gate, and he returns from that exhausted. He's relentlessly incontinent, and intermittently aggeressive. So, it's time.

It's a huge, grave, daunting responsibility to hold the life of another creature in your hands. Dog or not, Joe embodies a lifetime of memories with us. I remember his puppyhood--even though his "puppy" size was enough to knock over my then-toddler sons. I remember him running head-first into the van door when I shut it against his invasion. Tiny little dent, there--in the door, not his head. I remember him running through cattle fields on my inlaws' land, tearing down the drive to usher in the visiting family (I was always terrified we'd run him over). Most of all, though, I remmber the days and weeks and months after my mother-in-law, Jean, died, and Wayne would walk for hours and hours with Joe at his side. He loved that dog, and when Wayne went into the hospital, Joe was left at home alone for a while. Nobody knew Wayne wouldn't be coming home from that visit, but I think somehow Joe knew. When we brought him to our home, he had large patches where he'd worn his fur clean away--great big bald patches the vet said was due to stress. And, I believe, to sadness.

And so, on Saturday, Joe and Wayne will be reunited. I'm a firm believer in animals in heaven. Scripture assures us that the new Earth will have all the creatures that the old one has. Joe is God's creature, and he was Wayne's best friend. I have the most beautiful picture in my head of Wayne in Heaven, turning around, and having his already-complete joy doubled over at the sight of Joe--fully restored--bounding across some patch of paradise to meet him.

American Idols

...that's right. Idols. With an "s," because this year, it's a Sophie's Choice kinda vote. Do we stick with the girl who seemed destined for confetti since auditions, wobbled a bit in the final rounds, and came out a-swingin' and a-singin'? Or, do we put our money on the dark horse who kept a steadily increasing pace--even if he choked a bit on the last stretch?

I'm at a loss.

Often, when we get to the final two on American Idol it comes down to two ends of a spectrum. In season 1, we had your basic guy vs girl in Kelly and Justin. (Then we had the horrid experience of reuniting the two on film in From Justin to Kelly. I'd give a quick review of it, but my therapist advised me to never speak of it again.)

Season 2: Old soul (Ruben) vs. Old style (Clay)~~historically, I believe, the closest final vote.

Season 3: Fantasia Barrino vs. Diana DiGarmo~~kind of like pitting a vocal powerhouse up against a couch. No contest there.

Season 4: Bo and Carrie~~ Round 2 of girl vs guy: Southern rock vs Country. Bo never had a chance, though I admit to rooting hard for him to win. Carrie never did a lot for me, and this was my first major AI disappointment. Now, she's sold more records than practically all other contestants combined. So what do I know? And then...

Season 5: I picked Taylor Hicks to be in the top 3 at his audition. I just adored him. My quibble here is that it should have come down to Taylor and Elliott Yamin. Katherine who?

Season 6: Blake (beat box) and Jordin (teen queen) -- I wasn't surprised that Jordin won, but I remain surprised that Blake has gone absolutely nowhere. I mean, if Ace Young can be on Broadway, just sayin'...

Season 7: Battle of the Davids...and I couldn't make a call. I pretty much disliked L'il Archuleta with every cell within me, but he seemed the sweet-cheeked answer to continue the reign of Sparks and erase the stain of Hicks. But few people screamed more when Seacrest said, "Cook!" No prediction there.

Last year, of course, Glambert and Kris Allen. By the way, somebody should probably poke the producers and remind them that Kris Allen won, because I don't think his name was said out lout 3 times this season, even though Lee's trajectory clearly matches his own. BTW, I totally picked Kris to win.

So...I have a pretty decent track record. But coming into tomorrow night...I'm clueless. Really. My heart wants Lee; my head wants Crystal. And since both of those are pretty vital elements, I guess I'd be happy either way. I've said several times that I don't think either's career will be any more or less of what it would have been regardless of the outcome of the vote. Crystal clearly out-performed Lee tonight. She wants it more. That leads me to think she deserves it more. And, I kinda think the vote will agree with me here. Will I buy Lee's CD? Yes. Crystal's? Yes. Am I glad they don't have to release an cringingly awful cheese-fest of a first single? Oh, yeah.