I was asked this very question by a 12 year old girl that for some reason likes to hang out with me. I told her my reasons and her face fell. She was so disappointed with my answers. She actually told me that they sounded like I was in an arranged marriage and trying to make the best of it. I was a little shocked by her forwardness, but then later just had to laugh.

Because my answers were not dripping with emotion, feeling, and passion. They were answers like, we agree on spiritual things, we want the same things in life, we work well together, he has great character and puts a lot of emphasis on honesty and integrity. Now I would be a liar to say that I don’t have all the mushy gushy feelings that people associate with being in love, but these emotions are not the things I basing my decision off.

Perhaps that’s why the divorce rate is so high. People decide to be with someone because they make them “feel good”. But I’m expecting a day where my husband doesn’t make me feel good, actually he might make me feel quite upset or angry. And it’s those moments I want to be able to go back to the reasons why I married him in the first place, and those reason aren’t based solely off emotion.

There were seven us there that night, and no one said a word. All sitting staring at the fire, or laying and studying the night sky for the mysteries it might tell. The absence of words was refreshing. No one was uncomfortable, or felt need to fill the void with nonsense. It was so rare, but so beautiful.

The sun beat hot especially for October. The light changed monotonously from green to yellow to red. The man in the shabby clothes hoping for more red lights than green lights. Hoping that some stranger would take pity for a moment, and buy the newspaper he was selling for a dollar. The dollar came waving out of the open window, and his face registered some emotion for the first time. With a halting gait he came to the window, gently and appreciatively took the dollar and handed over the newspaper.  Our lives were woven together for a moment.

The most surprising part is how much muscle it takes to move the clay around at the beginning. I was expecting the slow movements of shaping the clay into whatever one desired, but at the beginning it’s all about putting some force into that ball of clay.

Here’s a few pictures from last night.

Daniel at the wheel

Maybe if I keep talking about it, you’ll get jealous and take a pottery class. Which of course, I definitely recommend.

It all seems too good to be true half the time. I keep expecting to wake up from this delightful dream, to realize it was just that; a dream. But it’s not a dream, and everyday brings the reality of it all closer until I become Mrs. Daniel Gerth. I like that. I like that a lot.

This music promotes and represents a community. Most of the talented bands I saw would make mention of a grandfather, father, or a music mentor that taught them everything they knew. Many of them didn’t even play their own songs, but played songs of those that had gone before them.

I think the idea of mentoring has been lost here in America. Everyone wants to make a name for themselves, and be creative and new. Those that are older are seen as having archaic ideas; it’s only the new and fresh things that will catapult us into the future. But in all of our striving for something new and cutting edge, we lose a few things. Things like wisdom and experience. These are things only someone who has lived through life has. No textbook or college class is going to be able to hand a person either of these things, but a mentor can.

I’d like to see more models in business and education that promote the idea of mentors. Instead of shunning those that have a few gray hairs, we should welcome them and give them a place to share what they’ve learned.

Ok, so I’m convinced abiding is a good thing, but how the hell does it work in my life right now.  I spent two years with people who pursued the presence of God, but they pursued the power of the presence of God just as much. I became accustomed to thinking that unless I had incredible revelations, visions, dreams, and prophetic things coming from me at all times, I wasn’t really abiding. I moved to Nashville, and those things subsided somewhat. And lately it’s seemed that although God is close, there is no great revelation, dreams etc. I’m just living life.

At first I was discouraged with the way things were, but I’ve come to a great conclusion. I’m learning to really abide. I’m learning to abide in the boring mundane of my life. And I’m finding Jesus in all of it. I’ve been reading pieces of Andrew Murray’s book Abide in Christ, an incredible book, if you haven’t read it.

One chapter opens with the scripture, “Now He who establishes us with you in Christ and has anointed us is God (2 Cor 1:21) The whole chapter is about trusting God in establishing your heart in Him. That it’s not a striving of our own, but a complete trust in God’s ability to root and ground us in him. The next chapter is titled “Every Moment”

Murray poses this question: How can such a man (a man who works full-time), it is asked, with his whole mind on the work he has to do, be at the same time occupied with Christ and keep fellowshipping with Him.” His answer is that although we may not be conscious of abiding, doesn’t mean we aren’t in Christ.

He goes onto provide examples, one in which I will quote here: “A loving wife and mother never for one moment loses the sense of her relation to her husband and children: the consciousness and love are there, amid all her engagements. And can it be thought impossible for Everlasting Love so to take and keep possession of our spirits, that we too will never for a moment lose the secret consciousness:we are in Christ, kept in Him by His almighty power?

This understanding has been so great. It’s the best perspective on abiding I’ve heard. Since I’ve been making a conscious effort to practice this, communion with the Holy Spirit has been so rich. I still have a ton to learn about abiding in Christ. But every moment I do abide is rich and life-giving.

The main shock came when half the students who walked in the door greeted each other by name, and immediately set to work doing their own thing. There was no waiting for the teacher, in fact the teacher greeted them, asked what they were working on, and let them be.

Daniel ended up being the only guy there. Besides myself, there was only one other girl who was around my age. All the other women were middle-aged. I kept thinking through the night, Elisa needs to take a pottery class. She would have a novel with ease. All of these women are such characters. They all live very different lives, but they come together in the pottery studio to forget about life for a little bit and just create things. It was silent for most of the time, but when there was some talking, it would be a story about their lives outside of the studio. A snippet or snapshot of the person they are “out there.” They mentioned people by first names without explanation of how they are connected, and everyone would nod their head or make a comment. Because obviously, they all have heard stories about this person before. Then around 8:30 as if by some unspoken rule, they all started cleaning up, and drifted out into the blackness of the night, to lead the life they live “out there.”

I’m starting to hear whisperings of hiking trips and camping trips. It’s like we all hibernate in the summer. The 100 degree humid climate forcing us to lay in our air-conditioned houses dreaming of cooler days. But those days are upon us, so it’s time to be active again. To wake up from our summer lethargy, and enjoy the outdoors we all swear we love.

My plan for fall: become a better rock climber (maybe go on my first outdoor trip), go on at least one camping trip, go to a NFL football game (I have tickets already), learn to make pottery, and make at least a few fires in my fire pit in the backyard.

My conclusion is it’s more than a job. By that I mean it’s not the normal 9 to 5 type of thing. I get so much more involved in the lives of my clients. There’s a death in the family & I’m one of the first people called, because they will have to cancel their session. But my involvement doesn’t end there, I have to go to there house a week later, which is covered in flowers from the funeral & I get to stand there and listen to the mother’s concern about their child and how the death of their grandparent is going to affect his or her schooling. I’m begged to pay close attention to the child for any signs of struggling.

That’s just one instance. Somehow in being the tutor I become more than someone providing a service, but an extension of the family. Maybe it’s the fact that I care so much about the kids I tutor, that this naturally happens. I can’t just go home and not think about them. I grocery shop and think, “Now how am I going to help (insert child’s name) reading more fluently?” “Why won’t (x child) trust me more, and let me help him more?” I feel like a parent sometimes, always thinking about how I can help these kids succeed.

So maybe I’m the one who makes it more than a job. I really care about my students and want to see them happy, successful, and confident not just about academics, but life in general.