When anxiety was great within me, your consolation brought joy to my soul.

I've been trying to come up with a word to describe her. Joy is the one I keep coming back to. The title of this particular blog is from Psalm 94:19. We were talking earlier today, reflecting back on where we both were when we first met more than three years ago now. Anxiety was running rampant in me. Then comes this 5 foot 2 inch blonde light of joy. I told her at the time we met it was like this triune of perfect events coming together at the perfect time. I finally got out of God's way and let Him go to work on my shattered heart. I met Lindsay, and three days later I leave for Colorado. I talk about that trip, that area a lot. But it really has nothing to do with football, not even the scenery. Sure it's amazing (the scenery, although the football's getting better), but that isn't what draws me there. It's where I feel most whole. But none of those things; God, Lindsay, or the Rockies would've changed me the way they did without the other. I wouldn't have met Lindsay without God's grace. I would've had a much harder time believing Him if I hadn't met her. Colorado would've just been scenic if I hadn't been shown His hand on it. It would've been the only beauty I really believed in if I hadn't met Lindsay.

I guess the reason the word "joy" keeps coming to mind is it's the one word that best describes her to me. She gets such joy from others' joy. You should see her when she finds a present for someone that she thinks is just right. She can't wait to give it to them. We had dinner not long ago with friends of ours who had some really awesome news to share. Lindsay couldn't wait to...celebrate...with them (I have to be vague because we were asked to keep it quiet for now). But it's not just presents and gifts. She has a true interest in me. She loves seeing me excited. Heaven knows how burnt out she must be already with football, but she knows I enjoy it, and she not only puts up with it being on the tv, she's interested and involved. She finds her joy in mine.

She's got her own joy too. She's worked so hard at so many things lately. From a weight loss competition to getting a new job to parts in musicals, she's really been overwhelmed with blessings the last few weeks. And it's so awesome to watch her, in her joy.

I've never seen anything like her. And I've seen a lot of cool stuff. My joy is having her be the first thing I see each morning, and the last thing I see each day. My joy is at the end of the day when she walks in and Sheba jumps up from her 43rd nap of the day to greet her. Most days I'll suddenly have joy fall right into my lap as I sit my chair. Just for a hug. That's my joy. She has seen me at low points. A lot of them. Each time, she makes me feel like going through that and asking for her to help me was the right thing to do. She's not afraid to walk into the fire with me.

When it's our turn, I know her biggest joy will come from a bottle, a blankie, and a bedtime lullaby. I don't know if there's anyone who will love their child with more joy than she will. I don't know that there's ever been a wife that has ever loved a husband with more joy than she already has.

People are drawn to her. In ways that I can completely understand, and wish in so many ways I could duplicate. She is a light. Things are better when she's around. Pain is softened and shortened when she's near. Joy is emphasized and eternal when she's near. I could've survived the last three years without knowing her. Sure. But I don't think that I would have enjoyed them like I have. There's that word again.

We know drama

I took Sheba out for her morning business today. As we were walking to the dumpster a black pit bull came virtually out of nowhere. He walked up slowly and then attacked Sheba. I tried to scare the pit bull off, tried to physically push it off and for a moment, he backed away. By this time Lindsay heard the commotion and I told her to take Sheba inside but the pit bull was attacking again. Sheba broke out of her collar and took off, with the pit bull chasing her. I took after both of them. They both ran off into the woods and I couldn't keep up with them. I can honestly tell you I've never been so scared. There was nothing I could do. I called 911, and I'll be honest, I handeled it horribly. I was screaming at them and panicking. Lindsay had gotten in the car to see if she could drive around and find Sheba in the neighborhood. I called them 911 3 times before I could get something out of them. To spare you some reading and me some typing, they finally sent someone. He coralled the pit bull seemingly pretty easily. Right around that same time Lindsay came back. She said that some people running in the neighborhood had seen a police officer pick Sheba up on Piedmont Parkway, about a mile or so away from us. The officer called Lindsay and brought Sheba back. (I'm tearing up as I write this part) Sheba was fine. We took her to the vet immediately and she has no bite marks, no real wounds at all. She has a little scrape with some blood on one of her toenails of one of her paws, but it's not serious at all. The vet said she has no wounds what so ever. The animal control guy took the pitbull away and said (I think) he'd be in touch with one of us. She's (Sheba) home now.

I've never been so scared and helpless. We don't have kids obviously but this is our baby. And I couldn't stop her from being hurt. The whole time she was missing I thought the worst. I lost my temper with people on the phone, I was just a wreck. Sheba's home and fine. She does have that one little scrape but the vet said she'll be ok and she was hoping around like her normal happy, hyper self at the vets office and when we took her back home. Thing is, in that moment, that moment that was probably 5 minutes but seemed like an hour, I lost my faith. I did not believe that God was there. I did not believe He would take care of her. I didn't even think to pray. I was just scared and mad. Mad at myself, mad at whoever let this dog loose. I immediately went in the back and just praised Him for Sheba's safe return and apologized and repented to Him. I lost my sight in that moment. I'm hoping that He uses this to strengthen me in the midst of the next crisis. And I know it seems kind of silly, but in my heart, this was a crisis. I did not handle this well at all. But my prayer is that when something totally out of my control, sudden and unstobble happens again, that I have the presence of mind to turn to Him. Something I did not do this morning.

Fun with my toy

We bought a laptop recently. And it has all kinds of toys on it. This is one of them. It's my first try...it's got all my favorite things in it. A Dave Matthews Band song, Colorado, a spoiled rotten dog, the ocean, and this cute lil' blonde. Oh yeah, and that frog.

That Garth Brooks is full of it

"Some of God's greatest gifts, are unanswered prayers" says the song. It's a hugely famous song. They're thinking about making a movie out of it. It's going to be on Lifetime so the acting will be horrendous, but still. "You ever think that it's not that the prayer went unanswered, but God just said, 'no'?". My boy Kory said that once. I wish I could take credit for that wisdom. As if God is just going to ignore a prayer. The thought in the song is, "Well, He didn't give me what I want, so He just didn't answer my prayer. Maybe He will when He gets around to it." "God must be busy" says another song. Crap. More crap. I know I'm probably taking country songs too seriously, but it's a dangerous message too many people just seem to go along with.
I've gotten quite used to Him telling me, "No." "No, Marc. I know Paul has six children and you love him deeply. And I know it's going to hurt you as profoundly as anything ever has, but I won't let him survive this accident."
"No, Marc. I know you really like this girl and you don't think it could possibly get any better for you. But trust Me, I've already created your wife. I already know who she is, where you'll go on your first date, and how long it'll take you to meet. Trust me, you're going to love her more than you think you love this girl you're crying over."
"No, Marc. I can't give you this opportunity right now. You're not ready. You think you are, a lot of your friends are telling you'd be really good at it. And you would be. You will be. But you're not ready to take on that burden. Trust me. I do it a lot. But keep trying."
Those are just some of the times He's not only answered a prayer - sure, not the answer I wanted but answered none the less - but came up with a solution. Paul didn't make it out of that motorcycle accident seven years ago this coming Saturday. But I tell you this, God was glorified for at least three days non stop on one of the highest rated radio stations and television stations in this area. It will be hard to convince me there was a better witness than Paul Franklin Fuller, Jr. And when his story on this earth ended, God was praised, God was glorified, God was proclaimed, God was prayed to. On the public airwaves, in places that don't do that. How many people had their curiosity piqued, "what's with this God, this Jesus these guys keep talking about?" Someone got to know Jesus because Paul went to meet Him. Reconciled.
I would be in relationships, they'd fall apart because A)He had Lindsay in mind for me and B)I was a dumpster fire determined to make a relationship work no matter what He had to say. "If I could just get her to like me again, then I'll have everything straight". I had no idea how wrong I was. I didn't factor Him in at all. The first time I do, and look what He gives me. Someone I never imagined big enough to ask for. Reconciled.
In "The Message", Hebrews 11 reads, "It's impossible to please God apart from faith. And why? Because anyone who wants to approach God must believe both that he exists and that he cares enough to respond to those who seek him." You want me to believe that he doesn't take the time to answer a prayer? That's He can't get to it right now because kids are starving in Africa? Like God's not big enough to handle all his voicemails? I'd like to say that I've gotten to the point where I like it when God tells me "no". Because I realize it means He's working in me. He's going to reconcile something in me and the end result is going to glorify him way more than anything I had planned would.
Lindsay and I had been considering something, and it was risky to a degree. Not bungee jumping with suspenders risky but risky still. Once again, my boy Kory says to me, "You think God can't correct your mistake? You think it's either smooth sailing or a disaster and He gives up on you?" (Kory's good. A lot better than Garth) Currently reconciling.
God is totally capable of taking any mistake, any "unexpected" (by us) bump in the road, and come up with the happiest of endings. And He loves me enough to let me take chances, and no matter how reasonable, or seemingly unexplainable they may be, the outcome is not going to be enough to where He shrugs His shoulders, turns around and just walks away sighing deeply. I'm getting kind of used to hearing, "no". And it stings each and every time. The difference is now I understand that He's saying "no" because He's working. Not because He's booked.

What it was like in Chapel Hill

Just like in 2005, I was in the Dean Dome to watch UNC go for a National Championship. Lindsay joined me this year. They open up the arena to the public (for free) and it's first come first serve seating. They set up a big projection screen at halfcourt, and for the title game, they turned on the video screens at the top of the arena. Like I said, we did this in 2005 when they won it all, I think I see a pattern. Anyway, below are photos and videos from championship night. And by the way, can I just say how incredible my wife is? Just four years ago - as she'll tell you herself - she didn't care about basketball, much less get caught up in this mess for the Final Four. And now, she's really brought herself into something that I enjoy, just because she loves me. Man, did God design the perfect wife for me. Anyway, back to the basketball:

Me and Mike D....just before tip off

We're going to need a new one

That's a championship smile

Rushing the floor as the game ended....

....time to move the party to Franklin St

Here are some videos:

Just before tipoff


As the game came to an end


the Franklin Street celebration

I'm glad I'm not in control

Since football season's over (and getting uglier in the Rockies), and the tournament hasn't started yet, Lindsay has taken over the remote. No no, it's fine, you have to pick your battles and that one ain't worth fighting. Anyway, we're watching "The Biggest Loser" last night. There are two teams and they go through these series of challenges. The team that wins a particular challenge gets some sort of reward. This episode's reward was "24 hours of luxury". Spa, hot tub, massage, decadent food, all inclusive drinks, everything you could want and more. This was, I think, the 7th or so week of the show. And these men and women, and one boy, have been just knocking themselves out. The physical and emotional work they're doing to lose this weight is nothing short of inspiring. And that's not even a struggle of mine and it inspires me. Anyway, the team that won this challenge, that won the 24 hours of luxury, had won the last several challenges. They were losing the more weight more consistently than the other team. They were getting a little cocky. Nevermind, they were very cocky. Seven days a week, several hours each day, they dedicated their minds, bodies and hearts to the focus of whatever it takes to lose this weight. For someone to get to the point they go on this show, that's a life change. It's not just a diet. So this team was winning these challenges partly because they were working harder than the other team, more dedicated. And then they win this "getaway". You can see what's coming. They get to this resort and it's on. They gorge on buffet style food, just get trashed on alcohol, liquor, chicken fingers and fries for desert, and lay around getting pampered all day. It was the same gluttony that landed them on this show. They get rewarded with their hard work with one day of freedom, and what do they do with it? Practically erase everything that earned them the day of freedom in the first place.
Your first reaction is probably something like, "How could they? After all that effort, they just throw it away? They'd been given a gift, and just forget everything it took to get them there." Any idea where I'm going next?
I got saved November of 1999. After all the work, all the dedication -- the love -- Christ displayed to grant me freedom, you would think in the 9 1/2 years since, I would've taken the gift of eternal life -- of freedom -- and treated it preciously and carefully. Sometimes sure. But I can't tell you how many times I've been given a sliver of freedom, and washed it away with gluttony. Maybe not with food blowing a diet regiment, but metaphorically absolutely. I've done the exact same thing time and time again in my spiritual life that these contestants did last night. No better, no worse. I have given into myself, my flesh, because to paraphrase the people on the show last night, "Oh well, it's just this once. I've been so good lately, what could it hurt? I deserve this little bit!"
The contestants come back to the "ranch" and their trainer is devestated. She feels betrayed. "Why should I care so much if this is how you're going to treat it. Why do I care if you guys don't care? I give up." And that's where the parallels between "The Biggest Loser" and my walk with God stop. I'm sure He's felt devestated, betrayed. But not once, not one single time have I been met with a "Why do I care if you don't? I give up."
Paul Young, author of "The Shack" spoke at my church once. While he was speaking he read a letter he got one time. The writer of the letter talked about a struggle with addiction. And how each time he failed he expected God to get fed up with him and turn away. Instead, according the guy in the letter, he would hear, "Only 50 more times. Only 50 more times before you go flying face first into the mirror, before you cut this crap out."
I've been given 24 hours of luxury before. I've been given a much more grand doses of freedom. I've botched it several times just like those people on "Biggest Loser" did last night. But somehow God knows just how much freedom to give me. Just the right amount where I can step off the ledge, without falling fifty feet to the rocky river below. I'm thankful that He knows me that well. I'm thankful that He lets me peer over the side but never lets me fall. If it were up to me, I would've been part of the landscape a long time ago. I'm exhausting the metaphor but the point is, as long as He controls my heart, my mind, my words, my actions, my thoughts, then it's freedom I'll enjoy. As soon as I take over, it's a long hard fall.

Yes sir....

We want to be the team everyone is talking about in March and April, not February. -- Ty Lawson

Feeling welcome

I was reading from the Message this morning, John 15:9-10 Jesus says, "I've loved you the way my Father has loved me. Make yourselves at home in my love. If you keep my commands, you'll remain intimately at home in my love. That's what I've done—kept my Father's commands and made myself at home in his love." So the part I underlined, "Make yourselves at home in my love". That part jumped out at me. Obviously there's the image of coming in to Jesus' home, kickin' off your shoes, putting on a nice smoking jacket and fuzzy slippers (maybe that's just me) unwinding and just letting down the guard. Much like the image that comes to mind when someone says, dinner time Thursday nights. Just relaxing and allowing us to stop "performing". Comfort, peace, just be yourselves and enjoy. But there was another part that came to mind on the same wavelength. Am I running my home in a way that Jesus would feel like He could make himself at home in? Would Jesus be able to relax, be comfortable, peaceful, enjoy my home? Am I speaking to my wife behind close doors, so to speak, in a way that Jesus would feel comfortable sitting on the couch watching old Broncos highlights in the same room with us? Would He feel like He could walk around my home, and me not worry, "what if he looks in that cabinet, what will He think of what He finds? If he looks at the pictures and artwork on my walls, would he sheild his eyes or appreciate them? If He looked in my DVD drawer, would He ask if He could borrow some of them, or shake His head and sigh deeply to Himself? When we have more friends come over to join us, would He think I/we treated them well? Would He think we make them feel welcomed, that they're our guests and they too feel comfortable and loved? Do we offer them food, drink? Comfort when it's needed? Support and encouragement? Laughter? Am I paying attention to my dog? Am I treating the animal in our home (since we don't have kids yet) the an animal should be treated?" Jesus invites me to make myself at home with Him. Do I feel like I can extend the same invitation to Him by the way I live? Would Jesus feel comfortable in me? Does He? Or is He more like the friend you have come over and once they see what your home is like, they keep looking at their watch, hoping their cell phone will ring with a, "something's come up, we need you back home" call? I hope my home is the one where He's in His smoking jacket, fuzzy slippers, laid back and doesn't even notice how much time has gone by.

Fun with photos

Must've been cold in the condo that day

My kinda Sunday

"You going to drop whatever it is you're grilling?!"

Just what I wanted!!

Lindsay's first NFL game, my Broncos getting whopped by the Panthers

Lindsay's first major college basketball game, UNC at Wake Forest

Biltmore flowers

On top of the Biltmore. I didn't want to take this picture...to close to the edge for me

On our way into the Biltmore house

The bed and breakfast we stayed in for our first anniversary trip

Snow on the Blue Ridge Parkway

One down, many many more to go

Monday is our one year anniversary. I had someone ask me recently if there was anything about our wedding that I would do differently. Yeah, there actually was. First of all, I was sick. I had some kind of head cold and could barely breathe. So that would be one thing. Second, I didn't know that as people were coming into the church, I had to be tucked away in a room. I wanted to greet people as they came in. I'm sure that's the way it's done, but I wish I could've hugged people as they came in and didn't have to wait until the reception. But there's one other thing I would've done differently.
That morning when I got up and was praying for the day, I thought if I got an opportunity to speak at the reception, I wanted to thank some people. I had the opportunity during the toasts, but I didn't take advantage of it, and I regret that. To this day I regret it. I was going to thank everyone for coming. The weather wasn't bad, but risky enough to where we would've understood if they didn't come. So I wanted to thank them for braving the weather and joining us. I wanted to thank Steve for officiating our ceremony. He HAD to be a part of it. I wanted to tell him I couldn't wait to see the video, because once Lindsay walked in the room, I didn't hear anything else. I didn't hear the congregation making noise, I didn't hear what Steve said to us, I didn't hear him sing. I was just captured. But I wanted to thank him for officiating it. I wanted to thank everyone who worked hard for our day. Jimmy, Joyce, Judy Webster who decorated the church. They volunteered their time and it was beautiful. I wanted to thank our parents, mainly hers for giving me their approval. I wanted to thank God for attending. But as I was going through all this in my head, if felt like I was forgetting someone. Then it dawned on me....



Thank you, Lindsay. Thank you for loving me. Anyone else who hears this, you want to know how to love your spouse better? Save your money on books, don't watch Oprah, just watch Lindsay love me. She loves me selflessly. She loves me constantly. She loves me endlessly. She loves me regardless of me. We talked about living in Colorado. She practically had her bags packed. Not because it was something she always dreamed of, but because she saw how much the thought excited me. She just wanted to be where I was. That's how she loves me. She wants to be a part of me. She wants to see what makes me come alive, and she wants to be a part of the journey. She supports me. She believes in me. "I know that I can't do anything wrong" says an Alan Jackson song. Yeah, I know what he means. She loves me to where I feel strong. Even when I have no other reason to feel that way. She makes me feel like I am the thing that excites her most. She makes me feel like I'm the best part of her day. I had a friend tell me that one day while she was singing in church, that you could "see the love in her eyes as she stared at you for a short time." I had no idea, but it doesn't surprise me. She cares for me, she allows me to hurt, she encourages me to get the strength back. She never tries to fix me, but always lets me know it will be ok. She makes me feel that I can do anything, that I can do everything. She makes me laugh, she laughs at and with me. She constantly gives up herself, for me. When I do catch her looking at me, that smile beats any lake or mountain I ever seen. She could've loved anyone she wanted to, and she would've loved them just as well. But she loves me. It's not because anything I've done, anything I deserve. But she loves me still. She makes it easy to love her. She makes me eager to come home. She makes me look forward to Saturday mornings sleeping in. We don't have to go hiking, just as long as it's us. She loves me a lot like Jesus. She brings me closer to Him. As much as I appreciate people coming the wedding, people working the wedding, working to prepare the wedding, I appreciate her more. But more than that, I appreciate her loving me. Thank you, Lindsay. You have taught me how to love well. Hopefully I have learned from your lead.

Our first 50 weeks

As I write this, Lindsay and I have been husband (or "hubby bubby" as some like to say) and wife for 50 weeks. I didn't spend much time on the math, 52 weeks in a year, and two weeks short of our one year anniversary, there you go. Anyway, we have a lot to be proud of as we look back, and even more to be excited about as we look forward. (Sorry mom and mom-in-law that doesn't mean babies any time soon. They're in the plan, just not yet) Most of the people reading this were probably at our wedding, so I'm sure you remember the snow. Lindsay's birthday was the day before. I call her to tell her happy birthday and she's in a panic because of the forecast. "No one's going to come!!!" she managed through sobs on the phone. Turned out just fine didn't it?

So then we take off for a week in Jamaica. As we walk around the resort in our flip flops and bathing suits, we looked in one of the bars and they're showing the NFL playoffs. It's -3 at one, and 4 above at the other. That on top of the fact that when we woke up that morning, I had to chip the ice off my winsheild to drive, all inclusive sunshine is a wonderful thing. Not to rub it in. We climbed waterfalls, rode horses (Scrappy rules!!), some of us got sick on boats (I won't say which one of us did that), wresteled with sand fleas, had a butler bring us drinks in our personal, oceanside cabana as I listened to Dave Matthews for a while, the waves crashing for a while, Jack Johnson for a while, more waves crashing for a while....etc, etc. We learned how truly lucky we are. Not because we're disproportionatley blessed and have one of everything we need and a lot of what we want, but because we don't have to worry about are we going to have any food to last us through the week. Not everyone down there can say that. Despite my protest and better judgement, we came back. By the way, customs sucks!!

So we get back to the land of the pale people and begin our life as a married couple. I'm still waiting on our butler and cabana. I've been waiting for 48 weeks. More good times than bad. Lindsay's cousin Shannon got married the May (maybe it was June) before we did. We're at the wedding and I remember something being said during the toasts that has been stuck in my head every single day since. "May today be as bad as it ever gets". I liked that. I liked that a lot. For the record, we've had days that were worse than January 19th. We've had fights. We've had, "I have to get out of here and drive around the block to cool down" fights. But we can count them on one hand. And they were all over and behind us by the time the sun set on those days. We're fantastic at realizing whatever we're fighting over isn't important enough to go to bed angry. It really may be the thing we're best at. Wanting to love each other more than we want to be right. There was our first Valentine's Day that I totally blew because I was sick. I was so sick I missed out on the dinner at church we planned to go to, at one point going to get a bowl of ice cream. Not to eat, just to sit on my forehead to cool off. I've tried to make up for it since. But it's been good. It's been great. The three of us, Sheba rounding out the triangle. I learned some things over the summer. I'm incredibly selfish. I grew up an only child and took full advantage of it. I had lived by myself literally and practically for eight years. Having to consider what someone else wants to do, someone else's heart, was an adjustment for me. One I'm still working on. Luckily my wife has the patience I lack. I learned what I already thought I knew, that it's an every day thing. Making sure she knows every single day that she's more precious to me than Broncos football, mountains, lakes that look like mirrors, and cabanas. She knows that. I think she really does. But I still have to remind her.

We spent a weekend at Oak Island, as the Webster again were nice enough to let us use their beach house. Lindsay still doesn't loose at putt-putt very well. Though she makes up for it while singing karyoke at an ice cream shop. The sand fleas aren't as vicious domestically, the Papa Bear still hits a special spot, and if you're looking for seagulls, walk on the sand with bread.

Then came our second honeymoon. My favorite place on the planet. Colorado. Denver, Rocky Mountain National Park, Red Rocks, Georgetown, Boulder, Grande Lake, Winter Park, Frasor, Crooked Creek, Estes Park. We had a cabin where all I had to do was roll over in bed to watch the sunrise over the mountains out the window over looking the valley. With all due respect to the beach, the ocean, I'm convinced more than ever that if God has a vacation home, it's in Grand County, Colorado. Watching female elk nurse its young no more than five feet away, learning I really can't walk on water, getting so caught up in the beauty that we leave my dad's video camera at Emerald Lake, realizing that no amount of leg curls at the gym can match the workout that is hiking at two miles above sea level, hearing a bugling elk in the beginning of the "rut" (mating season), feeding squirrels, dipping heads and toes in to Rocky Mountain rivers, claiming previously un-named waterfalls, choosing potential retirement sites, taking a carriage ride through downtown Denver, seeing snow four days after Labor Day, and again against my better judgement, finally coming home.

We setteled in for the last part of the year at home. Lindsay joined my passion for football. Just in an effort to show me how much she loves me. I realize I haven't joined her world as much as she has mine. Hopefully I will do better in our next 50 weeks. She really is amazing. I really am blessed. I also learned what I already thought I knew. People who say marriage stinks, "The ol' ball and chain", insert cliche here...I can see why they would say those things. It can be brutal if you get it wrong. You choose to spend life with the wrong person for the wrong reason, sure...it can be its own form of torture. But do what I did, let God guide your choices and direct your heart, and you get it better than right. You get Lindsay. I used to hate the idea of marraige. Used to. I hadn't met her yet. Thank God I was wrong.