It was the kind of average morning in our marriage, almost three years after we danced at our wedding above.  This average morning was not really worth blogging about, and there’s no picture of us in action to put on social media.  Stephen and I had just eaten breakfast, then separated for our individual morning quiet time with Jesus.  Him at the breakfast table, me on the couch in our living room writing in my prayer journal where I have my daily conversations with God.  He finished his quiet time before me and headed upstairs to the office to begin working for the day.  As I finished mine, the dishwasher sound went off to let us know that the dishes were ready to be taken out.  While Stephen normally does the dishes, I thought I would surprise him by going ahead and taking the dishes out before I got started with my work day.

I turned on a slow love song that had been stuck in my head for a few days, and knowing he was upstairs probably already with his headphones on while he worked, I began to sing my heart out.  I love to sing, but I don’t do it as much anymore.  Usually its reserved for times alone in the car when I have a moment to myself when I know no one else in the world can judge me.  While I’ve been told I have a good voice, I’m extremely shy about it, and don’t really let others hear it.  But that morning in the kitchen, I didn’t care if Stephen had his headphones on or not…. I let myself… simply… sing.

The song I was singing really stirred up a lot of emotion as I put the dishes away.  Though it’s a love song, it’s a song about saying goodbye.  When I listen to it, part of me tears up because it makes me think of the time I had to say goodbye to my dad until I get to see him in Heaven again.  And part of me tears up because it takes me back to that place in my early 20s when I had to gain strength to say goodbye to a love of the past that I had to love enough to let go trusting there was a greater love in store better fit for both of us.  As my mind went back to that place of the hurt of goodbye, as I aimlessly put the dishes up and sang along, Stephen came parading down the stairs and into the kitchen with that sneaky look on his face and a big smile.  He had been listening to me all along as I sang my heart out, and now he wanted to cut in with a dance.  He stopped me in the middle of the kitchen, and swept me into his arms, leading the way as we circled around and froze time simply dancing in the kitchen.  Then he pulled me in close, his arms wrapped around me as we simply slow danced, and all I could think is…. “these are the moments I said good bye to the past for.”  These are the moments that I knew with all my heart could exist in the future.  These are the moments that my little girl dreams dreamt up that we could all grow up and find our own Prince Charming.  These are the moments that whether we have no money in the bank, or a million dollars to our name, that I hope we never let life get too busy to stop and dance in the kitchen.

As we all celebrate romance today, my heart always aches for the single girls out there on Valentine’s Day.  I had to cringe through 29 years of lonely Valentine’s before I married my ultimate Valentine at age 30.  I ache for you that our society makes such a big deal about Valentine’s, and I ache for you that I know it feels like it is rubbed in your face.  I understand that longing and all those years of waiting, and I hope the story above can encourage you to not give up waiting for the desires of your heart.  God knows the big picture, He is holding your heart in His hands and preparing the man of your dreams as you wait.  He is always preparing you, and looking back, I can confidently say that His timing is perfect.  It will be in Your life too.  I promise.  Happy Valentine’s Day, and may you find comfort in the greatest love of all knowing Jesus is your first love, and that you deserve a man who loves Him just as much. Don’t give up… you are worth it.

It was the coldest day of the year so far in Nashville, and suddenly I was craving my favorite Chilled Shrimp & Soba Noodle Spinach Salad from Panera.  I bundled up putting on my fur vest over my leather jacket and threw on my warmest scarf (homemade by this sweet friend!) as Stephen and I headed out to go do errands on the icey roads. We finally arrived at Panera, and ran through the 9 degree weather from the car to the warmth inside the restaurant.  I quickly scurried up to the counter and ordered my regular salad.

“I’m sorry, we don’t carry that anymore,” the cashier informed me.

I got flustered.  Excuse me?  How can you not carry MY salad anymore?  I had an entitled moment of getting irritated.  How could they do that me?  I mean, we left the warmth of our home to drive in the snow just to go get that salad.  If I was a 10 year old Stephanie Tanner on Full House, I would have belted out a high squealed “Hoooow ruuuude!”

Then I turned the corner and my whole perspective changed.

While Stephen finished checking out for us, I found us a table tucked away in the far corner.  There was only 1 other person sitting by themself in that faraway corner near us, and I was glad to find a spot where Stephen could finally attack our 2014 goals we were now 6 days behind on.  It took us finally leaving the house and all our distractions to go find a table in Panera and daydream.

Well… God had different plans.

As I passed by the other person sitting tucked away, I looked up from my iPhone long enough to notice she was an older lady playing crosswords in the newspaper.  I looked back down at my iPhone as I walked toward the table, then back up to to notice now this time, she was sitting in Panera without any food in front of her, only a free glass of water.  As I tried to look closer out of the corner of my eye while trying not to stare, I saw, she had holes in her clothes.  And she had about 5 layers on.  And it looked like she hadn’t had a bath in weeks.

Then I realized…. Does this woman have no warm home to go to tonight in this 9 degree weather?  Does she have no warm food to fill her belly?  How could I find out without being rude and bluntly asking “Hi, are you homeless?”

As Stephen walked over to our table, and passed her by, he said hello to her, in his usual manner as he usually does greeting perfect strangers with his extrovert personality.  We started chatting with her and found out her name was Rene.  Pronounced Re-nay, but spelled just like my mom’s name, but pronounced Reen.  She started to share how it was too cold to stand outside with a sign and earn money to eat that day, but that she was thankful to be able to come in a place like Panera and just sit in the warmth.

“They don’t like that I come in here, but, I don’t bother anyone.  I just try to keep to myself,” she tried to explain as if she didn’t deserve a decent meal like the rest of us. “Every now and then, someone approaches me with a giftcard, and I’m thankful for that, but I’m not trying to bother anyone, it’s just nice to have a place to sit.”

I had to hold back the tears.  And here I was complaining about something silly like them taking away my salad.

“Can we get you anything?  You name it, we’d be happy to buy you something,” I asked her.

In that way that I love Stephen loves to serve others, he jumped up eager to go place her order.  He took her order and walked off.

“I love the tomato soup, with the grilled cheese… it warms me up,” she said reaffirming her choice.

“I agree,” I said. “It’s my favorite!”

“If you’ll excuse me, since I’m now able to eat, I’m going to go wash my hands, will you watch my stuff?” she asked so politely.

“Absolutely!” I said.  And my heart broke even more at the simple luxury of getting to wash my hands that I take for granted.

Stephen came back before she did and he said, “Ok, we’re good to go, hers will be ready in a minute.  And bummer about your salad, I’m sorry they didn’t have it.”

That’s when I couldn’t hold the tears back anymore, and they burst out of my eyes. “Gawwwwsh, it so doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things.  We have a warm roof over our head tonight.  My heart just breaks for someone like Rene who doesn’t have that luxury tonight in this blistering cold weather,” I said as I tried to wipe my tears before she returned to her nearby table.  Yes, I had been complaining about the cold all day, but suddenly, the thought that there are some people who have to sleep in it…. well….. broke me.  And the last thing I wanted to discuss were our 2014 goals like we had originally planned during that meal, because all I suddenly cared about was… tonight… and making sure this new friend would not freeze as she slept.

As Rene returned and the Panera staff delivered her food, I couldn’t help but think of the 90’s song of “What if God was one of us?”  Just that morning, Stephen and I had a long conversation about how in 2014 we want to find more opportunities to give more.  In looking back over my 2013, I feel like I let myself sink into too many pity parties.  Instead of choosing to dwell on all God HAS blessed me with, I let myself get caught up in all He HAS NOT.  It was an overall constant theme of my own personal battles with 2013, and I was tired of being in that mindset.  As I posted last week on my Instagram, this verse really hit me hard:

And as I prayed with Stephen about that that very morning, I felt like this was my 1st test for God to see how serious I was about wanting to give.  Would I sit there and ignore the quiet lady in the corner with holes in her clothes, or would I strike up a conversation and listen to her needs and use my resources to help her?

She began opening up about how she was from Europe and moved to the states with her husband who was in the military.  But then she went through a bad divorce and was left nothing and now has no way to get back to her family in Europe.  When I asked if she had a place to stay tonight, she said hadn’t figured that part out yet, she was just sitting in Panera for as long as they would let her.  Stephen and I offered to drive her to a rescue mission, but she politely declined because “It’s just not peaceful there.”  Then we offered to put her up in a hotel. I mean, for all I cared, I wanted to put her up in a Ritz Carlton to allow her one night of luxury for the burden she has to carry in life. “No, no, no, hotels are too expensive, I couldn’t accept that from you.”  I tried to convince her otherwise, because the thought of her sleeping in the 9 degree weather, I didn’t care what price I would have to pay to help have a roof over her head on this freaky cold Nashville night.  She then continued about what I could tell in her eyes was really her simple luxury. “I do have a place that only costs $20,” she said. “It’s a lady who has a house and she rents out rooms to people like me.  I would be staying there tonight if I could, but with the cold, I couldn’t bear standing outside with my sign to gather money today.  It’s my fault, I should have done that.  But that place is real nice, she lets me do laundry and use her detergent and everything.”  I asked if she would accept our $20 to allow her to stay at that place that night, and her eyes lit up, “You would do that for me?”  “Of course,” I answered.  “Well, that would be real nice,” she said with a smile.

As we said our goodbyes, I asked her what specifically we could pray for her about.

“Gosh, I can’t think off the top of my head,” she said.  After a pause, she finally knew her answer.  “Wisdom… yeah, that’s what I need.  Wisdom, that’s what you can pray for me about.”

And suddenly…. I realized that was my lesson that night on that very subject.  Wisdom.  About what’s truly important in life.  And what’s truly important is giving more than receiving.  Because giving truly is receiving. Except, what you receive in return, often exceeds your expectations beyond what you could ever imagine.

So I’m just going to admit it.  I was a grinch this Christmas season and the weeks leading up to it.  There was something about my 33rd birthday approaching this year that I just did… not… want… to… celebrate. And I wasn’t much wanting to celebrate Christmas either.  Stephen had to beg me to pull out the tree and decorate because I just wasn’t in the mood this year.  I was in a major funk about a lot of different things related to the Christmas season and my upcoming birthday, as well as dealing with disappointments to unanswered prayers and struggling to keep the faith during a season of joy celebrating the birth of our Savior.

I felt like the little kid in The Polar Express who couldn’t hear the bell ring anymore… I felt like I lost the magic of Christmas, and birthdays as well.

My mom was coming to Nashville to spend it with Stephen and I, and she gave me fair warning that she was bringing “magic” with her to help cheer me up.  I of course rolled my daughter eyes in that “Ohhh mom” kind of way.  But then she told me that on my birthday, I was instructed to wear my fanciest dress, so while I was feeling like a grump, I also knew, I couldn’t pass up an opportunity to dress up.

We celebrated our normal Christmas morning opening presents, mostly watching my poodle child, Rhett, open the presents for us as he tore back each wrapping paper for us.  While I know he’s a dog, I truly believe he is part human with all his funny antics and each day, he reminds me there is a piece of joy to laugh about.

Then it was off to get ready for the day and the surprises my mom couldn’t wait to begin.  As I walked down the stairs in my favorite frilly Betsey Johnson dress and hot pink bow shoes, I heard the door bell ring.  Who was joining us for Christmas, I wondered?

In walked Kate Davis, another Nashville photographer I hadn’t met yet.  My mom hired her to document the entire day.  So wait, Stephen and I don’t have to document it?  I can take off my photographer hat and let someone else do the job?  Cool.  I admit, I was impressed my mom sneakily found another photographer and booked her.  Kudos Mom.

Next I walked outside to see a limousine waiting in our driveway!  I couldn’t help but laugh when I realized my mom was recreating my 4th grade birthday party.  Back as a little girl, I had seen a movie where an average girl got transformed into a princess, and when my mom asked what kind of birthday party I wanted, I told her I wanted to be a princess for a day riding in a limo and picking up all my girlfriends along the way to go have my Debbie Gibson covered birthday cake at a fancy restaurant.  And that we did.

Fast forward back to this Christmas Day, and here we were again, limo awaiting to whisk away for a day of magic and recreating birthday dreams.  Again, kudos Mom, kudos.

The limo then whisked us away to my favorite hotel in Nashville called The Hermitage Hotel.  Not only do I love the architecture and beauty of the historic hotel, it had special meaning to me because the very first time my family came to Nashville as tourists, this is where we stayed with my dad.  I had a feeling deep down that this is where my mom was kidnapping me to… but… I didn’t want to ruin her surprise.

As we turned the corner and I saw the sign for the hotel, my heart fluttered.  All the memories of our first trip to Nashville came flooding back to me and I felt bittersweet knowing we were back at this place where my dad once was, and that he wasn’t here to celebrate with us this day.

As we pulled up, I saw a bellman holding a big bouquet of pink flowers and I thought “Awww, how cool, someone is getting flowers today!”  Then it hit me…. “Oh no….”

As I got out of the car, the bellman walked up and greeted me and told me he was holding 33 flowers and had a letter to read me on behalf of the hotel.  As he read the letter, tears began to fill my eyes as he read “We are happy to present these flowers to you on behalf of your father, Johnny Williams.”

Oh Lord….. where was my tissue?

After drying my eyes, we were then escorted to a table waiting covered with rose petals and a big birthday cake. The cake was not covered in Debbie Gibson this time, but it was chocolate with whipped cream frosting just like I had always liked.

We had an amazing brunch with first class service, and after taking a few Christmas photos in front of their big gorgeous tree, we headed back home.  But the day wasn’t over yet.  We spent the rest of the night driving around Nashville looking at all the magical Christmas lights.  I was sooo impressed how much people here in Nashville really put their heart and soul into bringing the magic of Christmas alive through the way they transform their homes into a colorful splendor of beauty and joy.  Some of the houses we saw had over 200,000 lights covering every inch of their property.

There was one house we got out of the limo to walk through their lit up masterpiece, and I remember standing there taking it all in… no Christmas bells were ringing… but in my heart, I felt like they were again.  I had felt bad for being such a grump in the weeks leading up Christmas day, because truly, I have so much to be thankful for.  Mostly importantly, I have so much love in my life, and that’s the greatest gift of all.

So what if I’m turning 33?  As Momma showed me that day, you are never too old experience the magic that each birthday brings.  Thank you Momma for a beautiful day.

Leave me a comment and let me know, what was a little moment of magic YOU experienced on Christmas day, or at some point in this Christmas season?