A Letter from Skip

I thought since I've been horrible about blogging lately, I would let Skip do a "guest blog" of sorts.  The following is a letter we've sent to close family and friends sharing his plan to spend yet another New Year's holiday in another continent.  Although I am pretty bummed to spend another midnight alone, I am so thankful that the Lord has blessed us with a church that supports missions and encourages short-term trips within the US and all over the world.  Please join us in praying for this trip and the people in India that are eager to learn from the mission team.

Dear Family and Friends,

I was presented several months ago with a unique opportunity, and after spending time talking with Stephanie and seeking the Lord’s will, I have accepted an invitation to ring in the new year in India.  A small group of men from our church, led by our Worship and Discipleship Pastor, Billy, will be leading two pastoral training conferences in Northern India.

Billy has been working with two pastors in India for the past year to organize the trip. The main purpose will be to train a total of 14 pastors that have begun Bible Studies in 50 unreached villages.  Although these men are passionate about reaching the lost, they feel inadequate and are desperate for more knowledge of evangelism and The Word.

I am humbled to say that I was asked personally to consider joining this mission team.  Since I traveled to India during my time with World Help, my familiarity with the culture/country will prove valuable during our time there.  I’ve also been asked to document the trip and will be creating a video of the mission to share with our church and other supporters upon our return.

The decision to go on this trip was not made lightly.  The financial responsibility is a bit overwhelming- the total cost of the trip is around $3,100.  Following the decision to start my own business in May, ending the year with a trip overseas seemed out of the realm of possibilities.  To call this an exercise of faith is an understatement.  With less than two months to raise support and pay for the trip, Stephanie and I have to put our full trust in the Lord for His provision. 

Would you join us in praying for the trip?  Pray for our safe travels there and back.  Pray for the hearts of the pastors we will be leading and the Indian people to whom we will be ministering.  Pray that we will be able to gather information for future outreach projects I would also ask you to pray about backing the trip financially (http://www.charitybaptistchurch.cc/#/give).  My flights will cost $1,500 and it is our hope to take $250 per village to spend on needs such as bicycles for the pastors who currently walk to the villages and materials to use in spreading the gospel. 

We are already meeting weekly to plan and pray for our time in the country, and my excitement is growing by the day!  Thank you for sharing in this experience with us.

Love,

Skip

Nanny

My Nanny handled death just like she did her entire life.  She was tough.  She was a fighter to the very end.  And, she spent the last weeks of her life teaching us things about ourselves that we didn’t know, showing us that we are stronger than we thought and can do more than we imagined and that anything done in love is worth doing.

When someone loves you unconditionally, it is a privilege and even a joy to love them back in that way until they breathe their last.  Many people questioned our decision to keep Nanny at home during her final days. If I am honest, there were many moments when I questioned it myself.  We ultimately stayed the course because of the example she had set for us many years ago.  My Nanny retired at age 62 to take care of my Papa as he lost his battle with cancer.  She had help from Hospice, but she changed bandages and administered medicine and functioned on mere hours of sleep for what seemed like years.   She also took care of her brother and both of her parents during their final days.  And although I’ve never been near death, she took care of me for over thirty years.

There were many times we weren’t sure the right way to do things to care for her, like changing her bed-sheets with her in the bed, and we longed to ask her what to do.  But, somehow, we got it done; and Friday morning when she finally let go, I think she was proud of the job we had done.  During the last few weeks, when we thought every day would be her last, people would ask us what we thought she was holding on to.  I wish I knew for sure.  And maybe I sound a little full of myself admitting this, but I think she was soaking up every ounce of time she could with mom and me.  I think she knew who we were and that we were there right until the very end. 

I struggled at times during Nanny’s sickness with ill feelings towards those in my family who were not as present as we were through it all.  I wanted them to know what they were missing; she was such an incredible person.  Yet, those feelings completely subsided the morning Nanny breathed her last.  I had no regrets, and no guilt, and a heart full of memories and life lessons to last me until I am a Nanny myself.  Not everyone can say that, and the loss in that is theirs.  She was a blessing and I was her favorite thing.  What a legacy!

Proverbs 31:26-28

She speaks with wisdom, and faithful instruction is on her tongue.  She watches over the affairs of her household and does not eat the bread of idlemess.  She children arise and call her blessed.

My not so Bummer Summer

If there’s one thing I’ve learned from two years of marriage, it’s this: listen to your mother-in-law.  While I was in a funk yesterday, she told me to blog.  She also told me to write “I love my mother-in-law” 500 times, but this one seemed easier.  She’s right.  All my life I’ve been drawn to the pen and the page when I needed to get something off my heart.  This summer, I have been fighting the urge to write because I felt a little ashamed of how I have been feeling. 

I have been given the gift of spending the summer with my very sick Nanny.  This will be her last summer with us as she is in her final stages of cancer.  In God’s perfect timing, we discovered this cancer last summer and I was able to spend it with her going for biopsies and treatments.  Because of that summer, she is around for this one.  I took last summer in stride; I saw a light at the end of the tunnel- she had the hope of getting better.  This summer, we are preparing for the end of her precious life on earth.  And it is HARD!  She’s losing her voice, but her mind is still sharp.  She doesn’t like to lie in bed all day, but she is too weary to do much else.  She tries to eat, but usually loses it.  She’s okay being left alone for short periods of time, but the “what ifs” compel us to stay with her nearly around the clock. 

While I honestly do feel grateful to be able to be here and sorry for those in my family who choose not to be, lately, I’ve had feelings that are fairly foreign to me.  I’ve been experiencing all kinds of jealousy of my friends who are living it up this summer.  I find myself getting easily frustrated by those who ask me to hangout when they should know that I am too busy to join them at the pool.  I torture myself by reading Facebook posts about beach trips and lake days.  I get annoyed when people don’t return my texts either at all or not until 3-4 hours later.  (OK, this has always annoyed me!)  

Wanna know what’s even worse?  This week some self pity has crept in and joined the green eyed jealousy monster. And, I hate it!  I hate feeling sorry for myself!  Usually, I am the cheerleader friend.  Usually, I am the one trying to pull others out of their funk.  I don’t like being on the other side of the funk (ha!). I find myself frustrated by the lack of those coming to my rescue when in truth, I haven’t let anyone know I need rescuing.  And although I’ve been thinking they should be able to read my mind and spring into action, they can’t and I shouldn’t expect them to either.    

And now that I am putting it out there, I am a little terrified at the response.  I don’t like other people feeling sorry for me any more than I like feeling sorry for myself.  So, what do I really want to happen?  I want to learn from this season of my life.  I don’t want to expect that a day at the pool or a speedy text will fix the root of my feelings.  This summer is hard and it is going to get harder still.  I need to focus on the blessings that I am receiving now:  Skip is home this summer; we have a wonderful church family and great new friends; I have the summer off to soak up every last second with a woman that has been my world; and, my friends love me and know me well enough to not change their behavior towards me after reading this blog.  Or, at least, I think I hope they do. 

I've Been Waiting Years to Write This

On June 8^th 2010, the Lord answered our prayers with a job for Skip.  (He had been out of work for over 3 months and we were buying a house and planning a wedding on my teacher’s salary and the money he could bring in as a DJ with Virtual Sounds.)  To say that I started praying for him a new- new job on June 9^th is only a slight exaggeration.     I hated his hours in the shop and hated his hours on the road for races even more.  I didn’t like his boss.  I even griped about the all black uniforms and his greasy fingernails.  Skip, on the other hand, enjoyed a lot about the job since he has always loved to travel.  It wasn’t until about a year into it that he began to really feel like he could not stay at Robby Gordon Motorsports forever.  And if you’ve spent any time with either of us in the last year, it’s likely we’ve asked you if you knew of any job openings.

When we found out that Skip would be leaving for Argentina the day after Christmas, I almost had a break down.  We spent a lot of time talking about job options and redoing and re-redoing Skip’s resume.  We would hear of leads and they would fall through.  People would call on Monday and tell him about a job and by Friday they would call with a never mind.  When he left for Argentina, I finally began to use my alone time wisely.  For the first time in a year, even though I had been complaining about his job for all that time, I began to really cry out to God about the job situation.  When Skip got back from his trip, he told me he had been doing the same thing as he camped out under the stars in the desert.  Finally, we were in one accord about the subject.  He needed to come off the road.  Being in one accord and having another option, however, were two different things.

By the first of February, we had all but given up.  No one was calling back.  Skip had interviewed with another race team and even felt like he would be offered the job, but they hadn’t called when they said they would either.  Finally, the day before Skip was scheduled to travel out west to begin preparation for the 2012 NASCAR season, Wyatt called.

Oddly enough, we met Wyatt in the Dominican Republic last summer; he and Lizzie live in Charlotte and were there on their honeymoon.  Skip recognized Lizzie’s southern accent and struck up a conversation poolside.  We hit it off, and Skip and Wyatt started hanging out here and there when we got home. This past November over lunch, he told Skip about a possible job opportunity coming open at the first of the year.  Wyatt’s family owns Parks Heating and Cooling of Charlotte and the position would be in Service and Repair sales.  We got our hopes up, talked excitedly about the job, and learned a few weeks later that there would be no position opening up in January or anytime in the foreseen future.  We had literally heard nothing from either of them until that morning, less than 24 hours before Skip hit the road again.

Wyatt called Skip on Monday, February 6^th, around 9am and asked if he was still interested in coming to work for him.  An hour later, I was doing one last resume revision during my planning period at school and emailing Skip’s resume to Wyatt.  Skip met Wyatt and his father for lunch at noon, and by 2pm, he had accepted the job offer and put in his notice at RGM.  He traveled that afternoon to Charlotte to fill out paperwork and take a drug test.  As we sat down to dinner that night reeling from the day’s events, Skip told me about the interview and the little details of the day.  24 hours prior we had been preparing ourselves for another season of separation as Skip returned to the road. 

I can’t help but think that God must’ve been so excited the days leading up to this big day for us.  We were praying so diligently for a change and for His will to take place and He had something planned for us that was better than we could’ve imagined.  I have an awfully hard time keeping any secrets, but the good ones are the hardest to keep because of the anticipation of making someone’s day.  God was about to change our lives and make our days for years to come (we’re still on cloud nine two weeks later), so I think He was stoked.  And, I am humbled by this notion.   As undeserving as we are, I still think God was a little bit giddy with excitement over answering our prayers.  It amazes me sometimes how faithful He is and how He works specifically for us and through us as His children.  If you know Skip, you know he is anything from ordinary.  He’s never worked “normal” jobs or done much of anything that you could call average.  During his interview that day, Mr. Tucker said to Skip, “I never do anything like this, this fast. It’s kind of crazy.” Skip said he was thinking, “That’s funny, this is pretty much how I do everything.”  How blessed we are that God makes us so unique and then uses our intricacies to bless us and bring glory to His name.                       

Happy Birthday to Me

Two years ago today, Skip set the bar on birthdays pretty high when he proposed in my classroom and whisked me away in a limo for a day filled with surprises.  Today, he ALMOST did it again.  Yes, he is in Argentina.  No, he wasn’t here to spend the day with me or to go out for my birthday dinner last night.  But, this morning, he managed to be the first person to say “Happy Birthday” and the first person to give me a present.   This isn’t just impressive because of the distance or the schedule he keeps when he is home.  It’s impressive because my birthday two years ago was about the first one he’d gotten right in five years. 

When we first started dating, Skip had a lot to learn about birthdays.  When we dated long distance, we had to plan trips to spend our birthdays together.  For his birthday that first year, I planned a weekend in Roanoke, got him great concert tickets, and a new wardrobe of clothes he acted like he wanted.  When my birthday rolled around I made arrangements to fly to visit him.  When he picked me up, he informed me he was going to take me shopping and let me pick something out.  He hadn’t so much as bought me a card.  A few years later, the NewSong schedule put him in Charlotte on my birthday, so I drove there and picked him up for a birthday lunch.  He came strolling out to meet me with my “present” tucked under his arm.  It was a T-shirt from a Winter Jam souvenir table.  It wasn’t wrapped, and there was no card. Happy birthday to me.

I point out these little birthday failures to say, you can teach an old dog new tricks.  When Emily delivered my presents this morning from Skip, I realized just how far our relationship has come and how much our love has grown and how blessed I am that I didn’t give up on him because of some imperfections.  He is busier now than he has ever been.  He works longer, harder hours and we see each other about as much as we did when we were dating long distance.  He had less than a week off for Christmas and had to prepare for a three week trip out of the country.  Yet, in all that hustle and bustle, he bought me a new sweater from one of my favorite stores, two new pairs of earrings, a matching necklace, a Starbucks gift card, and a new charm for my Pandora bracelet.  I still didn’t get a card; I got a hand written note that puts Hallmark to shame.

 At a time when I could’ve easily been feeling sorry for myself and our less than ideal situation; instead, I felt like the luckiest girl in the world this morning.  Happy birthday to me.  Bring on 30!