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They have never called each other out of each other's name in anger. Not once.
They hold hands while shopping, hanging out or worshipping at church.
They flirt and giggle together like teenagers.
They get through painful times by telling jokes and laughing.
They really like hanging out together. Dancing, singing, shopping, traveling...
He still calls her "fine" and "gorgeous" before she even has time to ask how she looks.
She still swoons over him when he puts on a suit.
They match on accident most every time they get dressed.
Their children and grandchildren would rather chill with them than with friends because they are that cool.

They are my parents and they have been married for 44 years as of 12.21.2013. There are no words I could write that would do their love story justice so I'll just let them tell it. Enjoy a chuckle and some wise chitchat from my parents Michael & Mattie Criddell.

*Disclaimer: This video contains contagious amounts of love and adorable-ness.

 

Sometimes There Will Be Beer

James had to go to an AA (Alcoholics Anonymous) meeting FOR A CLASS ASSIGNMENT one day. No one knew who he was. He was not a teaching pastor or a seminary student. He was just there to be with them and learn from them. This was a room full of gruff looking men who came to be rid of their ugly addiction. Some now chain smoked just to keep from drinking. Many of these men would come to a meeting everyday if they had to. They thrive on transparency and community. They need constant covering and accountability. James came home that day and smelled of cigarette smoke for the rest of the afternoon. And he thought nothing of it because these were G-d's people who are doing the best they can muster up to make it. As a minister these were his people.

I chuckle and tense up and pause as I write how the meeting ended...As James tells it - The person who was leading the group said, "And we know there is only one person who can get us out of our (you fill in the colorful expletive) situation. And that's who?"

And the rest of the room replied, "the Father" in unison, followed by the Lord's Prayer.

I tense up because some adjectives should not ever be used in the same paragraph as G-d. I chuckle because I know that G-d is not nearly as tense as I am because sometimes there will be cuss words. Sometimes unfiltered prayers will rise from unchurched lips through a cloud of cigarette smoke to the ears of the Father.

I saw this video. It's pretty amazing.

I love these lyrics which strengthen my own faith but I also love this random group of people worshiping G-d publicly in a non-church setting. One attentive youtube viewer caught a glimpse of a bottle...a beer bottle perhaps...maybe A&W Root Beer. No one knows but this particular viewer wanted an explanation of it's cameo during a time of worship.  I read their response and thought..."Oh, you missed it." You missed how G-d was moving in that place just like He moves in AA meetings and at Groups Homes for rebellious, disrespectful youth. If you aren't careful you'll miss the work of the Holy Spirit on the heart of the drug dealer, the abuser, criminal, the ex-stripper, your brother, or mom, niece or neighbor...because all you see are "beer bottles" all you hear are cuss words and all you smell is cigarette smoke.

Don't get me wrong. I believe in holy and righteous behavior before a holy and righteous G-d. But some us have been on "Sin Patrol" for far too long. Because sometimes in the midst of addiction and vulgarity you, if you are looking for it, you can see the sanctifying work of G-d flooding lives with mercy and grace and that is something you do not want to miss.

But the Music Never Stops

I sang in the school choir from the 6th to 10 grade. Bass, Treble, half notes, quarter notes, mezzo forte, uhh decrescendo and ...Do a deer, a female deer. Yup that's about all I got. I have not sung formal pieces of music since the 10th grade so the technicality of these works are, for the most part, lost on me. I don't mind either. That is not an excuse to revel in ignorance.  I just mean that I still love these complex, transcendent pieces of wonder because they are simply complex and transcendent. What I love most about the symphony is its pure emotive nature with no words sung at all. So when pianist, Christian Zacharias stopped the music because of a cell phone interruption I just could not blame him.

When interviewed he stated that

"Music lives on something completely different than being disturbed." 

and

"We prepare all this and this is the least you can do to honor it in listening"

English syntax is bruised a bit because of his German accent but I took him real seriously because Germans don't play...around...because clearly he plays the piano...I digress.

How awkward for the the poor guy in seat 53A. You, alone, were responsible for bringing the piece de resistance to a crashing halt while ushering in the fullest most humiliating silence, ever. No wonder you couldn't slide your hand down and quiet the electronic symphony in your pocket; Sir Zacharias' glare was set to stun-mode. All because you weren't paying full attention. 

There is complex transcendent wonder all around us. The sweetest symphony you will ever hear.

"The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands. Day after day they pour forth speech; night after night they reveal knowledge." 

Psalm 19:1-2

And we often do not honor it by at least listening or watching. We disturb this masterful work with busyness and our noisy requests requiring G-d to vie for our attention. But G-d is G-d and he has nothing to prove. He won't roll over and sit. He won't give signs and wonders just for ooo's and ahhh's  and He won't ever stop being G-d. He can't. 

The music won't stop even when you are distracted.
Because we are a part of the song.
You are not a disturbance to the work of G-d but you are his sweet instrument and he is ready to use you.

Silence distraction and pay attention.

And He will keep on playing. Showing you his beauty and wonder as he waits on you to join.

We're Just Warming Up~Personal Repost

There is this captivating moment just before a symphony begins where we wait with baited breath and intrigue. Murmurs and coughs settle in your ear and the wait is tangible. The silence is full like someone blowing up a balloon almost too full before it bursts. The audience palpable is comprised of people who have perused the program to the point of empty memorization. No one really knows what those Italian and German songs are.

 In all honesty most of the audience can only hold an intelligible conversation on the top Olympic Dream Team composers…you know them already...” Bach, Beethoven and Mozart ok and maybe Chopin…At best we are wannabe-connoisseurs of musical wine-tasting. We swirl the glass, sniff and examine the legs but we have no idea what rare libation we are drinking. But we read with intensity and hopeful recognition that we may be fully engaged with this temporary community. We hope that everyone with take the experience seriously. No one would dare take part and talk or laugh at an inappropriate time. This is just as much to feed the Mozart within us as it is to share love and be immersed in something pure and existential with a stranger. 

Music is a soothing dose of perfection. It is science, emotion, creativity, creation, physics, community, mathematics and language in a beautiful dance. It is a drip of what heaven stamped eternity must feel like. So, that moment before such an experience is hope-fully exhilarating. The imbecile and the guru both become servants of the inexplicable. The complexity of music teases all of our senses. If you aren’t fully consumed by it then your soul cannot be freed to sing. As we stand on the music precipice of melody that moment before the dive is quietly wondrous and necessary. It whets the appetite…but the warm-up can be confusing. Instruments and notes alike bicker in a cacophony of fine tuning. Violins, then saxophones, the obo wants in on the action and won’t wait its turn…even the gentle triangle rings out of time…every part is being perfected to play its role in this great symphony but what a battering it does to the ears. The audience knows, however, that the tune will change…Oh, they’ve read the program and even in their rudimentary understanding music they know that this is not the song…not yet. Just…wait for it. In fact this hodge-podge of senseless reverberation is a part of the entire experience because the coming together is nothing short of a miracle.

Shhhhh….here he comes…the conductor. When he steps to the platform we fear not for he will tame this noise and bring….harmony yes…sweet harmony. Before it sounds you know it’s there in the fullness of the wait. Can you see it? Look close. Harmony appears at the tip of the baton and demands attention…ahhhh yes, there you are. “Tap, tap tap” That valiant stick is raised in the face of wayward echoes and when it comes down the concord flies. You didn’t get dressed up abandoning the comforts of home for no reason. This occasion is worthy of your time. The confusion, the noise…that’s not the headline for this concert…we’re just warming up.

Deep Trust

I dated a guy once because I didn't have any other options or any good reason not to. My heart wasn't really in it.

Puzzled, a close male friend of mine asked me why I dated him and my response was,

"Well, because he asked." 

There was no glimmer in my eye at the thought of him. My stomach was butterfly-free. I never even knew his middle name. 

Pretty crappy and pointless and kinda mean; I am well aware. I was going through some thangs. And I would never tell him that. I'm sure that would have really hurt him. Because I never really chose him. Fate and good timing were just on his side. Not exactly a best-selling romance novel.

In the midst of being good stewards: working, planning, tithing and saving James and I were (I was) slightly-majorly annoyed by some disappointing news. I have noticed that when disappointments come one of us is at peace and one of us is not. And we switch places. Rarely are we both swerving and sighing while throwing righteous fists of indignation in the air. Thank God. This time...it was my turn to swerve, sigh and fist pump.

James calmed me, reassuring me of everything that Minister, Reverend, Pastor, MDiv, Chaplain Mo already knows about the God who NEVER forsakes us or looses control. But I was still having a moment so he said to me...

"Well, we just have to trust God. 

That is the place where he has brought us. *chuckling* I mean, what other choice do we have?"

And I appreciate this truthful reminder from my husband, my partner in this crazy adventure but that statement was the chorus of my heart-song for God and it sounded like such a passionless tune. Trusting him because I had nothing else to do?...what a shallow example. what a sad show of faith...what a pitiful reason to trust.

James told me a story once of a family friend who is a master rescue diver. During a training he swam to the bottom of a lake and was supposed to just sit there and wait to be rescued by the trainees. He was down there so long that he took a catnap. (Seriously!) When he surfaced everyone was frantic wondering where he had been. Unbeknownst to him a huge storm blew in right after he went deep. Where he was, there was no storm. The waters were not stirring at. all. 

As much as natural bodies of water terrify me that's right where I want to be.

My husband had already gone to the depths. I could tell by the quiet resolve in his voice. He was choosing God...choosing depths...choosing trust.

When James told me the unfortunate news I could feel the winds shift and cool as the storm rolled in but I also heard God (and I mean, I heard him) say to me, "Come deep, Monique, Come deep." It took work but I turned away from the choppy surface and kicked my legs hard past the current until I got to the place where the water is easy and still so I can sit, chilled out, at the bottom of the lake with James and the Lord. 

Trusting.

Not because I have nothing better to do. Not because I am passively (passive-aggressively) waiting for another, better-feeling option. But because the thought of God gives me butterflies. Because I am in love with Jesus and I KNOW Him to be trustworthy. Because he is stronger than any foe I will ever face. Because he is the potter and I, the clay. Because saying the name of Jesus makes my heart tender. Because I am the apple of his eye. Because there is not a more peaceful place on earth than in the deep with Jesus living out the best love story the world will ever know. Because there is no better choice than to trust Him.

The Proper Balance of Estrogen and Testosterone

I talk to James about everything. If a thought crosses my mind chances are I am going to share it. I process my day with him via texts while I am at work. I call him during lunch for a mid-day vent. And when I get home I wait for my cue..."How was your day, baby?" And he always listens...reluctantly pausing a game of Candy Crush on his I-phone or putting his own conversations with best friends and family on hold.

It is no wonder that over the past few months he has been urging me to hang out with my friends. He reminds me that our home is open to them for as long as I need a good visit.

For the past 7 months after our wedding I went into hiding. I think that most people expect this from newlyweds so none of my friends pestered me when I didn't want to come out and play. They just figured that I was boo-ed up. And while I had somewhat convinced myself that all I needed was my hunnie, really I was mourning the shift my life social life had taken. My closest friends were salted everywhere from Texas to Timbuktu and James' crew is all within a 30 mile radius...Fair...Nope, just life. Pouting in isolation seemed like a reasonable response.

The month of May 2012 was the best month ever, graduation, new career, and a proposal. Then June dumped on me and the remainder my friends began to move away. Life took a break-neck turn.  I was not prepared, at all.  I had just endured one of the most intense seasons of spiritual growth and independence, trusting a special group of people with my fears, tears, mistakes and joys and next thing I know Waco seemed a little wack without my girls.

Who would paint their nails with me and Say Yes to the Dress?

Who would laugh at my inappropriate jokes and applaud my public body roll routines?

Who would call me out for having a stank attitude?...this is dangerous territory for James Hoskins and he is not even about to paint paint his nails. Our love has its limits.
However, James does love me enough to kick me out of the house for a playdate. He knows how much the women in my life mean to me. How much I NEED them. I think he has known it even more than me.

For the past year and a half I have refused to make any new friends. I just knew that I could will my old ones to return to this crazy town of Waco, TX....the NYC of the south as it is more widely known. And  for this introvert, making new friends is exhausting...but I don't have to-my old ones rock. The friendship train rolled into Waco 3 weeks ago by way of me actually rolling up my bottom lip and picking up the phone. I will be riding it at least until November. This is my thank you...

DibbyDum~thanks for sitting in my bubble with me as we "watched" our favorite Friday shows and laughed at how broke we are.
Niesha~thanks for being a safe place to share "marriage life" and for inviting me to watch my niece be blessed at church and Tracy thank you for soul-clapping to some good ole black gospel music with me.
Christina~Thank you embracing your inner public spectacle and helping me make the world feel awkward.
Morgan~Thank you for allowing me to be fully self-centered for the entire month of September AND giving me 3 cakes!!!
Melissa~You are just ridiculous and wonderful and we still make an awesome team.
Callie~I will always be your chaplain but I am so glad that we are friends and future sewing buddies!
Angie~Thank you for finding time on your way to work or during a lunch break just to chat with me for a few minutes at least once a week.
Christine~my Lil Bit thank you for guilt-tripping me whenever you are in town and just saying that you are coming over.
Monica~Thank you for your hilarious transparency and strength. You are a hero of mine.
Katelyn~Thank you for laughing at my conceited selfie texts annnnnd for having Kari and I over next month for ThanksWeen 2013...be excited. (oh and for my Foster parents).
Cara~Thank you for making a point to come see lil ole me on your way to see your family.

James~Thank you for all the ways you LOVE, ESTEEM and ACCEPT my friends whom I adore and miss dearly. Your love for them makes me feel loved because they are a reflection of who I am.

I am so grateful for these women and so many others who are with me in this amazing, different, challenging and so-fun season of life. Thank you for reminding me who I am, all the facets of me, as I explore who I am becoming as a wife and minister.

I think this SONG pretty much sums up how I feel about you all. It was the first song that popped in my head and I'm not ashamed at all. Don't judge me. I worked at BU for 3 years.

Pregnant Elephants and Thank-you cards

One year.

I read somewhere that it is socially acceptable to mail out wedding "thank-you" cards within one year of the wedding...

12 months.

I'm sorry but that is ridiculous and I am more than positive that a lazy man with a proclivity for tardiness came up with this brilliant idea. He spouted it around his unmarried friends with great confidence while serving them fried foods and alcohol. In their happy, drunken state they were easily convinced so they told their friends. This idea then started circulating around the wedding blogosphere and within a few months this ludicrous practice became "socially acceptable".

Things that take too long to happen...
           -Vanilla extract to ferment (is that the right term?) = 2 months
                -Manatees to fully gestate = 13 months and elephants  for, a faint-inducing, 22 months

                       -James David "yes I used his middle name on purpose" Hoskins to partially complete 35 pre-organized "thank you" postcards = 6 months

                  

The plan I devised was simple..."I write to my folks and you write to yours. Finish at least one each day and we can get this done in a truly socially acceptable time-frame...friends feel appreciated and the wedding event is officially a wrap." 

Kinks in my plan: It was my plan and not our plan (like that really matters)

         To-do lists and phrases including the word "wedding" are forbidden immediately upon return from the honeymoon. Utterances of either turns you into the Charlie Brown school teacher.

I sent out all of my people's thank-you's on time avoiding embarrassment and shame.  James' pile was sad from neglect and gray with dust.  My plan was disintegrating after 4 months. I had to regroup and pull out the big guns.

Guilt-trip...it never fails. I called mom and pre-vented to release what could be toxic steam. She chuckled at me, knowingly and said, "Uh yeah, let me know how that goes." 

James would return from a very long day at work to find me surrounded by his cards. It didn't end there. I wouldn't frown or fret. No. I had a smile in voice as I asked him about his day. 

When he saw me with those cards his shoulders dropped and he turned toward our room as he mumbled, "I'm sorry, baby...I let you down."

Aha!

Wait...That felt horrible. 

Abort! Abort!

Guilt trips are for mean girls, manipulative lovers, and lazy parents who lack self-confidence, not for us.

Marital tet-a-tet's occur over the most inconspicuous things like budgeting and home decor and making the bed in morning and guacamole (I'll explain in another post)  and thank you cards. This talk lasted two hours...two very necessary calm, loving, guilt-free hours where James, under no duress, agreed to conquer his pile and I agreed to trust him and relax a little.

One week later the pile, still sad and dusty, taunted me and whispered lies to me about my husband.

But I love my husband and I'm discovering that marriage is definitely not 50/50. Teamwork isn't always the answer and he is not the guy who is squealing with glee over the chance to help with thank-you cards...not sure that I would want the squealing type anyways. Sometimes he'll do more than his fair share and most of the time I'll do more (let's be honest)....(love you, baby)

"James, dear, do you want me to finish the pile?...just tell me and I won't be mad..."

He did five. I did thirty...more...of his. And it only took six months.

apparently still acceptable and

We are still doing better than the elephant.