We stood inches from the window and watched as golf ball-sized chunks of hail pelted at our bonus room window. I had never seen anything like it. Only minutes earlier, it had been sunny and then with no warning, the hailstorm of all hailstorms was threatening to break through our windows and take down everything in it’s path.

Storms are like that— unwelcome and unannounced.

This particular hailstorm was fast and furious. The sun was quickly restored to shining; everything else outdoors was not. The south side of every house in our community looked like a victim of a drive by. Everything and anything that was left outside was ruined— plagued by dents at best, and holes at worst.

Our truck and our van were packed only two feet away from each other. The truck looked like a giant golf ball, ironically with golf ball sized dimples. It was a write off. My van however, came out unscathed. And it was parked only two feet from the same vehicle. If you’re scratching your head wondering how is that possible…

(CLICK to keep reading!)

My not-so-little sister got married this past weekend and as part of their celebration, they did a generations dance. All the married couples danced to "Remember When." People with smooth skin and wrinkled, smiled at each and swayed to music. Slowly couples married less years sat down until one couple was left standing — a marriage 67 years in the making, my grandparents.

Can you imagine being married for 67 years in a culture where a marriage lasting more than 67 weeks is a rarity? Can we not simply hang in there for 67 years, but also enjoy the ride? That's our plan.

Last year to mark our 10 year anniversary, I wrote 10 Lessons from 10 Years of Marriage. Last Saturday, my husband and I celebrated our 11th wedding anniversary and I've been mulling over what I've learned in our past year of marriage. If you stop learning, you stop growing. 

So, here I humbly offer my lesson 11, from an 11 year + 8 day old marriage: 

I answered the phone to the sound of tears. Not just the soft kind, but the kind that you shed when you're on the brink. The kind you shed when you're staring into the same old pit and feel like there's nothing you can do to keep yourself from tumbling down. The kind you shed when you feel like you're there all over again, in the place you never wanted to go back to. And it feels like the same old struggle is the same as it's always been.

Between tears she said, "The thing I'm the most scared of is that I haven't changed."

Lean in loved one and listen closely, because truth sets us free. Imagine we are face to face, I am staring you in the face with my finger in the truth, and maybe a bit of your face, because it’s a battle out there, but we have what we need to live victorious.

How did we get here?

My mom and I were on the plane to Abbotsford both grateful for another opportunity to serve God by serving His people. We were also both not entirely sure how to answer that question. We pondered and then my mom went first.

She told me when she was a new believer in the 80’s, the church she was part of was hosting Vacation Bible School. Someone asked if she would lead a Bible study for the moms who were dropping their kids off. She said yes. It was the first of many yeses, followed by many more over many years. 

Many yeses to God over many years eventually equals a surrendered life.

I was appointed to navigate us across Toronto since I was from "around here" (AKA Canada). Thankfully, we did eventually arrive at the restaurant after much prayer and the GPS recalculating. We headed to the reserved area in the back where the two teams were meeting to eat. I rounded the corner and stopped dead in my tracks. Beth Moore was standing six feet away casually chatting it up with her team members.

I reminded myself to think like a cucumber and be cool. I appeared to be the only one in the room fighting the urge to act like a crazy person. I sat down and channelled my crazy into a text to my friend who was with me in Vancouver in 2008 (whose goal in life is to sing backup for Travis Cottrell one day). I typed, Oh my goodness… I am at dinner with Beth and Travis!!!!!!!

Her immediate response (which I fully anticipated) was, I'M DYING! I’M DYING! Feel free to introduce me! I know they're real people but seriously! This is an 8 year old miracle.

Then I remembered that I never play it cool nor I’ve never been cool. Crazy is so much more me. So I got up and casually walked over

“Are you going to keep writing?”

I was unprepared for this question at my dad’s funeral. I had begun blogging during his journey with ALS simply to keep people updated on his progress so my mom wouldn’t have to over the phone. The purpose was clear— to tell my dad’s story and how God was continually showing Himself faithful.

When my dad died (August 17, 2009), I figured my blog would too.