Husband

His hands

/ bobbiblanchard / 4 Comments

We were on our way to dinner at a friend’s, traveling carefully down country roads packed with snow and reflecting headlights off ice that wouldn’t melt until May, when the “highs” climb above freezing and the salt on the roads finally does it’s thing. There were kids bickering in the backseat and Christmas music on the radio and somehow in these sixteen years of family car rides, we had successfully learned to ignore both. And as he’d been doing for the last 21 years, he smiled, reached across the console, and laced his fingers with mine. A couple of miles down that winding road he pulled his hand from mine to turn at the barely visible stop sign and as we rounded the corner he gave me a sideways glance while he absently flexed and straightened the fingers on his right hand, then turned his attention back to winter driving.

And I know what he’s thinking, because, well, 21 years. He’s thinking of the ache in those hands and wondering how long they’ll hold out. About the stiffness after a day of using them and the way they just don’t cooperate the way they used to. Or the way that one finger just won’t warm up anymore since injuring it, and it’s circulation, years ago.

In my mind’s eye I can see the frustration when his fingers don’t grasp and hold what he’s reached for, instead seeing it fall to the floor. I can hear his sigh when he retrieves what he’s dropped and tries again. I know he’s counting those vested union hours and praying hard he can make it until then. That things are still working enough to enjoy some semblance of retirement. That these hands will continue to provide and care for a family of five, six with Auntie Amy, and two with special needs.

So I reached across the console and grabbed that hand again. I see it differently, of course. So much bigger than my own, I have come to love every thick callous and scar. I’ve seen those hands wrestle my tires and my toddlers. Move refrigerators and move me to tears holding our new babies. They’ve moved in incredible gentleness and strength and awed me in both. Those tired hands have worked hard to provide pleasure, comfort, safety and income.

And just within the last couple of years, I’ve had the great joy and privilege to see Jesus through those hands. Seen them do things they’d never done before. I’ve seen them scrape up just enough for bills and be satisfied, sit for patient hours with a pencil doing middle school homework, faithfully hold and study his Bible, fold in prayer over food and friends, placed on shoulders in comfort and serve countless brothers and sisters in Christ. I’ve watched as God has somehow made my husband’s hands even more tender, more gentle, and given them greater impact regardless of how well they function. He’s made them spiritually stronger in their physical weakness.

Oh, don’t get me wrong, in the last week alone, they’ve been required to plow, change tires, replace bearings, brakes and turn signals. They’ve worked hard cutting, scraping and lifting at work to come home and shovel out a chicken coop. They’ve brought home the bacon, figuratively and literally. They’re not done yet. I know my Lord has much more work for this servant. I also know He’ll provide the means for him to do it.

During this Christmas season of not enough time, money, patience and health, what greater gift could I ask for than to be able to rest in the loving hands of not just my Lord and Savior, but the God fearing, Jesus following hands of the husband He gave me?

Hand In Hand

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Twenty years ago our paths intersected somewhere the other side of Early Adulthood and there was something attractive in the easy, confident, way you walked. Even if I left a safe, observable distance between us for a bit. Eventually though, your persistence closed the gap and we stepped out together hand in hand for the first time. Hearts and fingers tentatively entwined and overlapping. Questioning, sideways glances through lowered lashes revealed a contrast of broad, safe shoulders, thick, strong forearms, but genuine, kind blue eyes and gentle smile. Always smiling. How does a girl resist a combination like that? A girl whose road up until that point had been a little dangerous and lonely?

We continued into a new territory, Together, me and you. Though I’ll admit my focus was most often on you, I was quite amazed at all the new things I could see. With you beside me. Shadows weren’t so long or menacing and you taught me to jump over puddles and sidestep hazards, smiling all the way. Before I knew it, I had almost stopped looking back over my shoulder and was learning to live facing forward.

This next leg of our journey, though, brought us into Commitment and required a quick jump over a broom. Youth shiny new and dressed in finery we glowed and holding hands, made the leap and the promise to stay the course together, forever.

Then, holding our forever hands with new joy and confidence we continued on. The whole world seemed to open up, spacious, in front of us. Oh, how beautiful those days were! The way the sun shone on Possibility in the distance and all sorts of lovely trails appeared as we checked the map. We spent hours wandering along the way, discussing and deciding which one to choose. There were a couple of rough patches (much easier to navigate together) in the beginning then, but nothing that slowed our progress.

Feeling like we could conquer, together, any path we chose, we went for what appeared the most challenging. We took a deep breath and passed the sign welcoming us to Parenthood. Things sure speed up a lot then. Sometimes I wondered why there wasn’t a better description on the map, or more warning signs at the entrance, for it sometimes felt like we’d picked the diamond run as amateurs. But for the most part, we navigated all of the obstacles “Dirty Diaper Ditch”, “Pacifier Pass”, “Sleepless Slide” and several “Trust Falls” together. The going was tough, but the rewards were great and we emerged on the other end with three precious people we’d been entrusted with for the rest of our journey. They’re loud, expensive and exhausting but we found they definitely make the trip more beautiful.

Checking our map again, we realized our choice to visit Parenthood limited our next steps briefly and the terrain looked slightly more winding and definitely slower going (as we’d come out with more baggage than we’d thought). Given our three extra hands to hold, we decided to stay awhile next to Family Forge and focused on raising up and providing for our pack of five. We settled in and made plans for “after”. For when they finished school, chose paths of their own and found someone to travel with. We worked, saved, spent, planned and enjoyed the time and things we amassed here.

Looking out across the hills one day we watched storms gather menacing in the distance. We’d been relatively protected from extreme conditions in that forge but as soon as I saw that horizon turn purple, the little hairs on my arms stood up and I glanced at you scared, waiting.

Giving my hand a quick squeeze, you didn’t smile, but turned away and set to work. This time though, the broad shoulders and work rough hands were no match for the approaching storm. We sold what we could, searched high and low for shelter, to no avail. As the forge flooded and filled we held on to each other for dear life and even though we still had each other, we were tossed so violently to and fro we could barely keep our heads above water. Terrified, my foot brushed up soft against an Anchor. I’d picked it up a few years before, had moved it into our home and had been studying it when time allowed as it seemed to lend a constant, quiet comfort. That moment though, it seemed to come alive and hold me fast. The storm didn’t cease it’s battering, but held firm by the Anchor I was able to once again grab your hand and those of the children.

The waters receded, we caught our breath, but we’d be forever changed. You kept on moving, working, fixing, taking on anything you could to restore what we’d had, to forget about the change of the landscape as if by sheer force of will you could move the mountains that had shifted directly onto our path. We often held hands in the quiet, without words. You with the weight of us on your shoulders and me with my gaze on those mountains. Exhausted, we had no idea what to do or which way to go next. Gone seemed our confidence and definitely our joy.

But during the clean up. Sifting through the debris, I kept resting on the Anchor. The workload for the days seemed unchanged, the mountains remained immovable, the horizon still tinged grey, but there was always the promises of the Anchor to hold me fast. In those promises I found the joy I thought carried away. And it remained, regardless of circumstances.

I’ll never forget the day you tripped on that Anchor. The way you wrestled with it for days.

You didn’t need the Anchor.

It was enough that it was in our house…right?

But that load you were carrying left you too worn out to fight it for any longer. Led to the Word to study the Anchor of our souls, the Creator of our mountains immovable and the love of our Savior, you invited Him in. Into your heart, into our home and into our marriage.

We’re working our way now, hand in hand, following Christ, around our mountains. Sometimes hand in hand is through tears. Sometimes it’s through laughter. But still together. Always thankful. Because now we both know our final destination (even if we don’t know what will happen in between), that we’re never alone, and our God is bigger than any mountain we come up against.

A couple weeks ago you insisted we jump over that broom hand in hand again. Renewing former promises and making a few more that are meant to last the rest of our journey together and acknowledging the source of the love that has, and will continue, to sustain us along the way.

Blessed to make this journey hand in hand, with you, Hubby.

WE Are The Church

/ bobbiblanchard / 4 Comments

Below is an open letter to our church family along with pictures of the gift that accompanied it.

July 6, 2016

 

Dear Faith Community Church,

Six years ago I brought my family to Faith Community Church for the first time for a Christmas Eve service. At the time, this was going to be my third, and final, attempt to see if God was what was missing from my life. The Holy Spirit revealed The Gospel to me that day through a creative portrayal of life before the coming of our Savior and the sharing of The Gospel throughout the message.

By nature and experience I am a cautious person and had zero knowledge of the Bible. So, for the next several years Jesus met me here, as I was, where I was, and FCC became my classroom. I learned the importance of obedience and through small (yet significant for me) acts of obedience I made enough connections to become comfortable here. Eventually taking a Bible 101 class that made me more comfortable digging into His Word on my own, my classroom extended into my everyday life. An invitation by a beloved sister in Christ to coffee led to my first Bible Study. In September 2014, we made a large step of obedience in dedicating our children, Jordan, Joelle & Jace to the Lord and acknowledging that they truly belong to Him. An entire sanctuary of you committed to help raise them in Christ, as part of this church family. I wonder now, if you realized what you might be called to do, and that you would follow through so beautifully?

When we received Joelle’s first diagnosis, you wept with us, you prayed with and for us, you paid for and encouraged me to attend a women’s retreat during which I was able to surrender to God’s will and start our family’s healing process through His peace and comfort.

When we received a second diagnosis, this time for both Joelle and Jordan, you continued to lift us up in prayer, lead us to His word, and remind us of His great love and plans for these children.

Then, when financial stress in the form of years of expensive medical testing and astronomical prescription costs overwhelmed us, you opened the doors to FCC and your hearts. You gave incredibly generously of your time, giftings, and resources for two fundraisers that have helped us to more fully rest in God’s grace and provision for our family. You showed us, and many others, the beauty of Christ’s bride; that through a building of broken sinners, God’s glory can shine.

FCC was the building I brought my family to years ago. But, you the church, through your love and obedience to Christ, have been our teachers, brothers and sisters in Christ, and become our church family.

Words can’t express our gratitude for the blessings given to us through you and your willingness to walk this journey beside us, helping us to walk with Jesus.

This glass was originally installed in a church sanctuary in Minnesota in 1922. The original panels were salvaged, re-cut, and reset by Tim, for you. We do not have the means to invest in the

ministry here in a substantial financial way right now. But, we pray that this gift to FCC, and the history behind it, would remind you and all of those that come in the doors in the future, not just of the aesthetic beauty of the glass, but the beauty of Christ’s bride, the people of the church. The hundreds that once sat beneath this glass in the past, those here at FCC now, and those that will come in the future.

 

Blessings,

Bobbi, Tim, Jordan, Joelle, & Jace

The response of our church family over the last year, and our gratitude for God’s grace and provision, through them, was as beautiful as it was humbling and more than a little overwhelming.

God has been so good to me in gifting me with words on paper to express my heart that I fear would overflow at times with gratitude if I didn’t have a way to get it out. Hubby had no such outlet or way to express this. The stained glass panels had been sitting in storage in a pole shed for several years. At the time, Hubby appreciated their history and beauty and knew I would love it too. He planned to have something made for me for my birthday or Christmas but over the years was unable to find someone that could work with the old, fragile, glass and lead.

His timing and grace never cease to move me. Hubby, with no prior experience and more than a few cuts and broken shards of glass, was able to make these panels. Blessed with a way to express his gratitude, both to the church family, and God, this was as much a gift to the church as it was to Hubby.

 

Pursuing Love In The Valley

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This week marked 14 years of marriage for Hubby and I. Though as a young bride I couldn’t have imagined the victories and valleys we’d share youth made me sure that we’d conquer both together, victorious.

I remember hearing of longtime, happily married couples whose lives had been shaken with grief and loss so powerful it was as if it had been an earthquake. A perfect “10” and the aftershocks had left their marriage in the rubble. I’d also heard of happily married couples who’d taken that rubble, and rebuilt something stronger, and more beautiful out of the pieces that were left. images (18)I often wondered what had happened to the latter. I couldn’t imagine a scenario in which Hubby and I would not cling to the one person under the sun who knew us best. After all, we’d experienced hardship and loss before. We are so very different by nature that where one of us had been weak, the other had been strong. Those strengths and weaknesses had complimented each other and served as tools to help each other through.

But what happens when you are both weak? When neither of you have any strength? When both of your plates are full to overflowing with grief, pain, loss, stress and worry and your cups are empty? How do you help your spouse balance those emotions when your own plate is dangerously close to dropping? You can’t.

I couldn’t. This last year we experienced our own perfect “10” and what I found was that my cup was empty. I barely had the strength to balance my own plate, never mind relieve some of Hubby’s burden. I could not lighten his load. I could not cure our children. I could not pay the mounting medical bills. I could not give him peace and comfort when I struggled just to save myself. So I prayed to the One who could.

Isaiah 40:29

29 He gives strength to the weary
    and increases the power of the weak.

Father, please take this from me! But if this is Your will, please fill my cup and give me the strength to bear it. Please lighten this overflowing plate.

Ah, but He already did.

And He was patiently waiting for me to remember that He himself would carry the load. Would give me His strength. Had already offered to fill that plate and cup with His bread and wine!download (1).jpg

As I surrendered more to Him,my burden became lighter (Bread is rather light) and He filled that cup with strength born of hope. And made me aware that I needed to love Hubby. Not the feeling, that was still there. But the action.

Father, I don’t know how to help Hubby, Please give me the strength, wisdom, and knowledge to love him the way he needs right now. 

I was reminded of a message years ago images (14)by our pastor in which he shared praying for God to help him see and love his wife as He does. This ended up being to make the bed,but I was sure that wasn’t the answer for Hubby (Though I’m ALL for expressions of love that include a tidy bed). I was really sure that Hubby was going to need a lot more. So….

God, please give me Your eyes so I can see. Help me to see him and love him as You do.

images (13)

That’s it? It does not seem like enough. Not for this.

But when I kept my focus on meeting Hubby where he was, as he was, being patient and kind, and praying continuously to see him as Jesus does, and love him as Jesus does it was a powerful thing. I became more aware of his pain and suffering, which was hard, but it naturally evoked more patience and kindness. And in return, lightened his load and opened his heart towards me and towards God.images (16).jpg

Yes, love is God, and God is love. And, our love is stronger and more beautiful now after pursuing it in this valley than it ever was before.

My cup overflows…..

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The Pursuit

/ bobbiblanchard / 5 Comments

I know God was with me for the first half of my life because, frankly, I survived. But when I look back to see when He started to pursue my heart, I am brought back to the tender age of 18.

I was very sure that the one who loved me the most, was myself. And that was the only person I could trust to do what was right for me and take care of me. The fortress I had built around my heart not only led me to seek people who required no commitment from me, it caused me to be controlling, anxious, and fearful. After all, protecting yourself is a lot to take on. But, overall, for my plans, it worked. I was a straight A student, preparing for college and success. However, protecting yourself almost always causes you to hurt other people. I will not share the details because I believe that they will not bless you, or glorify Him in any way. I will say that once in possession of my soft, squishy heart, I spent plenty of time confessing and repenting those sins and left them at the foot of the cross. I would have continued on with my “plan” had God not intervened. And boy did He!

He was six feet tall, covered in dirt and a smile. Fresh from a mosh pit, his clothes didn’t match and his collar bone was swollen. He was a cross between Pig Pen and the kid goofing off in the back of class. He offered to show me the back seat of his car, or my car, whichever was closer. I was not impressed. I’d had plenty of similar offers that night. And this is not a reflection of my vanity, but of the hormones of a 20 something male. Oh, physically speaking he was right up my alley. Solidly built with wide (although one swollen) shoulders, blonde and blue eyed and though dirty, legs that should really be in a magazine. And he made me laugh. Future Hubby was not at all what I was looking for. Thank God!!

It would be three more encounters before Future Hubby took me on a date. By the third week I knew I was in trouble. He was so very far from what I was looking for, yet I knew we fit better than I was comfortable with. We were polar opposites. Exactly what we needed. He breathes sports, I tolerate them and never play them. I love to read, he falls asleep after the third page. I like to dress up, he prefers nothing more than comfort. Matching is not on his list of priorities. He is messy, messes make me nervous. I like to plan, he flies by the seat of his (mismatched) pants. You get the picture. But he made me laugh. And right from the start it was obvious that this man was either the worlds best actor, or there wasn’t a shred of pretense about him. It was the latter. He is completely incapable of lying. The genuine article. You see, he possesses no filter. Thoughts travel directly from his brain, out his mouth. He is uncomfortable with anything resembling untruth. Seventeen years later, and I can not think of a single instance in which he has been deliberately mean or hurt someone’s feelings on purpose. What he lacks in social skills, he makes up for in loyalty, sincerity, and dependability. Much like a Labrador retriever, but less hair.

He was exactly what my untrusting, fearful, guarded heart needed. He brought me out of my “safe” box, made me laugh at myself, and stop living five years in the future. He brought me laughter, joy, and relief from the path I had set myself on. He was the chink in my armor. How could I not trust someone so genuine and true to who he was?

There are plenty of times that I am certain our differences will drive me crazy. (Think basketball player that cannot manage to hit the hamper with his underwear.) And then, I will be in full panic mode about something that isn’t going according to my plan, and he will laugh at me, hug me, and tell me everything will be okay. I will be about ready to throttle him while he’s watching some sport and not hearing a word I’m saying and there will be a commercial break and he will have our toddler laughing so hard he’d pee himself if he was potty trained.

I know that God’s plan included Hubby. I am so very grateful that in His pursuit of my heart He gave me someone who slowly, carefully, made his way past that fortress and helped me to trust, love, and find joy. Hubby was the first step in a new plan. One not of my own making, but so much better than I could have imagined. And it all started with the tearing down of walls and the careful exposing of my heart. For His glory, and my good.

Many are the plans in a person’s heart, but it is the Lord’s purpose that prevails.

  • -Proverbs 19:21