I showed you a beautiful image of The Beginning. With more photos, I wrote about The Middle. But what can I say about The End?

Because no one knows their own end.

I’d like it to be something like The Notebook. We’d be holding hands in our sleep and just drift away to Jesus together. I’ve recently read two different news stories about the real-life versions of that movie, two couples married for years who were able to escape the sorrow of living without one another because they met death within the same 24-hour period. That would be ideal, wouldn’t it? But that doesn’t happen for many. Most of us have to deal with something less than perfect.

No one knows their own end. Mostly.

One thing we do know. A Facebook friend alerted me to a new ABC series called Once Upon A Time. It is mesmerizing (but not for children even though the title might imply as much). The fight between good and evil, so clearly depicted in fairy tales, is the basis of the show along with a bit of The Matrix twist about living in one reality and forgetting the truth. Fascinating. My favorite line so far came from Snow White when she realized her newborn child had escaped the evil Queen’s curse and would someday return to rescue them all. Full of fire and hope even in the midst of her deepest sorrow, suffering, and loss, Snow White locked eyes with Evil and said, “You are going to lose.”

That much we know. No matter when death takes us now, it will not win in the end. It will lose.

So I cannot tell you how The End will look in words, but at the same wedding that gave us beautiful images of beginnings and middles, my brother-in-law caught this one that makes me think the end will be something like this: Us looking back over our lives – over all that we’ve known, loved, made, and cared for – and knowing it’s been good:

And by then we’ll also know it isn’t really The End. It’s the beginning. The beginning of Forever. And I don’t have a blog post for that yet.

I love the beginning, but living in the middle is pretty sweet too. Fluffy filling. Smooth caramel. Chewy dough. The good stuff is in the middle. We loved celebrating Drew and Kate’s beginning at their marriage ceremony this weekend, but I was never so happy to be in the middle either.

Dan and I would catch each other between runs to the tux shop and walk-throughs at windy rehearsals and we’d smile, “So glad to be on this side of that!” So glad our beginning was beautiful, too, but mostly glad to be past it and to now be in the middle.

The middle of this bounty:

The middle of playing wedding . . . or orphanage, or mommy, or rock star, or all of them together:

The middle of dreaming into mirrored glass and smiling at the hazy images:

The middle of barn dances and laughter and twinkle lights:

This is basically the middle of life together, and it is sweet. Sure, there are moments we don’t necessarily want captured in digital ink, but I’m thankful for these shots that provide markers along the way. These photos, I know, will eventually fill a photo book that we’ll turn the pages of again and again.

“Look how small you were!”

“Oh, I loved that barn! And I loved our dresses!”

“Did I always smile like that?”

“What was I pouting about?!”

And none of us will remember because all we’ll see is how good it was in the middle.

What does our anniversary celebrate?

All the times we looked at each other in the middle of our worst attitudes and still decided, this is where I belong.

All the days we changed diapers and cleaned up chicken nuggets when we would rather have gone to the movies.

All the smiles from jokes only we understand.

All the cups of coffee prepared and offered.

All the loads of laundry and dishes, washed and dried and put away (usually).

All the times we had to be the super hero side-kick, business partner, or math tutor.

All the times we knew when to call in a real expert.

All the big tears cried over sick family members and a baby sent to Heaven.

All the little tears cried over everything else.

All the dreams dreamed. Some realized and others yet to be.

All the strength that comes from being one but also two.

All the pride of knowing others have not made these choices, won these battles, or conquered these obstacles, but we have. Together.

All the expectation for many, many more.

Happy 11th Anniversary, Dan!

I love discoveries like this. When I was loading photos onto my computer from the camera, I found several I hadn’t taken myself. Either Ada or Jesse took this photo one morning while I was still off-camera getting ready for the day.

Our mornings don’t always run this smoothly, but on this particular occasion, as is as likely to happen as not, Dan sat down at the piano and gave the girls a dancing tune. Can you see the pure joy and abandonment in Macy’s spin here? Even in a school uniform!

Don’t you wish you had a Daddy who played live music for you every morning so you could dance your way out the door?

Oh, wait, maybe you do. Maybe we all do, if only we’d listen.

What kind of music do you hear in your morning routine? And does it make you dance?

One of your kind is rehearsing with his band tonight, as many of you probably are as well. I know it’s what makes you good, all that practice.

But this rock star isn’t in a Nashville studio or a California warehouse-turned-venue, he’s on the stage in the gym at our home church just a block away. And he didn’t arrive in a fancy car or a stylish truck; he drove our family mini-van and it was stuffed full of four children, their scooters, and their snacks.

This weekend he’ll power through 12 mini-concerts in 3 days. He’ll look the part in his black jacket, loose scarf, and TOMS shoes. When he plays his piano, other musicians will give up their own aspirations on the spot. He’s that good. He’ll eat out late with his friends while nearby diners ask each other, “Doesn’t he look familiar?”

But what most of those fans and admirers don’t see is the man he is off the stage. Knowing he’ll be gone all weekend, he took the kids along to practice tonight in order to provide me some quiet writing time. Before he leaves, if he follows tradition, he’ll make sure the kids’ drawers are stocked with school uniforms and weekend play clothes. He’ll pick up an extra box of Diet Coke for me and a pack of flavored juice in pouches with tiny straws for the kids. Fewer dishes for me, more sugar for them.

He’ll call each night to make sure the kids didn’t throw fits and the dog didn’t run away when he was supposed to do his business. He’ll bring home chocolate covered marshmallows on sticks.

I just thought you all might want to know what kind of man is among your ranks. He makes you look good, this rock star of mine. He’s a credit to your species.

Sincerely,

Felicity

Happy Valentine’s Day!

Thank you, first of all, for this lovely holiday that finds its way into our culture and reminds us of the greatest virtue, love.

We don’t always respond in ways worthy of its namesake, but appreciate the chance to try. Happy Love Day!

To You, the one who knows love as a state of being and not as the temporal version we label as decisions, to you be the best of our thoughts and gestures on this special day.

You have loved us when we were unloveable. You have wept over us when we walked away. You have greeted us with enthusiasm when we found home again. You have celebrated us even in our immaturity.

You have not left us alone in the troubles of this world. You have not acted as we have acted: fickle, lazy, and unfaithful.

You are constant. You are love.

Always a patient parent, you do not strike us even when we bicker among ourselves. You do not take sides.

You wait. For our coming to our senses, our awaking from flesh sleep.

Never enough songs, never enough words, never enough deeds. We can’t repay, but we can respond.

We love you.

We love you.