#getaftergrateful life lately

it could get worse, but it could get better

har·dy/ˈhärdē/adjective – robust; capable of enduring difficult conditions.

I consider myself to be a pretty hardy gal, in part because somewhere along the way, I started preparing myself for things to get worse. When I acknowledged that the next stretch might feel harder, it suddenly felt strangely doable to keep going in the moment. Eventually, the workout was over or the baby finally arrived and suddenly, it wasn’t so bad.

It worked for the Turkey Trot in fourth grade. It worked for pregnancies and labors and deliveries. It worked for the night shift at work. It worked for hard financial times as a newlywed, and long nights with newborns. It worked for grad school. Before our drive to Alaska, I told my kids to prepare for the most incredible adventure OR the most miserable trip of their lives. I warned them not to ask how much longer we had to drive, because the answer would probably disappoint them. Thankfully, my beloved offspring chose the incredible adventure route. Over the course of eight days and nearly five thousand miles, nobody asked when we’d arrive. Not once did someone say they were bored. One of my kids recently told me it was one of the most fun experiences they’d ever had.

And now, here I am in Alaska, bundled up for winter in spring and loving it. As I do my slippery dance across the parking lot into work each morning, I whisper to myself, You’re doing it. This isn’t so bad. It will get worse. Smell that air? Notice how many layers you have on? You’re fine. It will get harder and colder and you’ll still be fine. You’re alive and you’re well. Enjoy this moment. Remember this when it gets harder.

Through therapy, I’m learning that this is a survival technique. Though I’ve never experienced what Aundi Kolber calls “Big T trauma,” I’ve had my fair share of formative experiences. Somewhere deep inside, I’ve always had the sheer will to survive, and maybe a little hope for some flourishing along the way. There are seasons to survive, and there are seasons to thrive. I’ve done them both, and I’ll do them forever; sometimes, simultaneously.

I want to stay hardy. God called me to lift heavy things. Expecting life to get harder has never cost me my hope or peace. I plan to stay prepared in that way. But after 2020, I want to be equally as prepared for things to get better. More enjoyable. Easier, even. Because who is to say that they won’t?

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five things on a friday life in alaska

Five things on a Friday: winter in Alaska.

The sun woke me up this morning.  Around these parts, this is known as a Big Deal. If you read this post, you’ll remember that my husband set all of our smart lights to change to pink at sunset. This was accompanied by a sweet little chime, which helped us to really savor the moment.  On the shortest day of winter, we received six hours of daylight. Waking up to the sun this morning means I have officially survived my first Alaskan winter. In addition to feeling extra chipper and cheerful, I also feel like the sun gave me the green light to write about what helped me through the darkest months. We still have weeks of snow to enjoy (I can only hope!), but the short days and long nights are over. I’d love to share what helped during my inaugural experience.

  1. Light therapy. I had heard about these in the past, but I never tried them before now. Guys! I am a convert. I used my light daily during November and December. I truly believe it helped my mood and my sleep cycle. I also put several residents on a light therapy program at work several months ago, and I’m still tracking the data. We are seeing improved sleep habits and have even been able to wean several folks off of sedating psychotropic medications! In one study I read, daily light therapy worked BETTER than daily Prozac for depression related to seasonal affective disorder. Fine print: it must be a 10,000 Lux light, and you must do it daily for thirty minutes per session. Ideally, light therapy is done first thing in the morning and the light is approximately two feet from you. I developed a nice routine with mine, keeping it with my Bible for use when I woke. Bonus: many insurance plans will reimburse for the cost!
  2. Sunless tanner. Who doesn’t want a little color on their winter skin? Chris says I use the word sallow too much, but it’s exactly how I describe my skin tone in the winter months. I don’t just get pale; I tend to emit a little greenish glow. I have used this foam with great results on my face and body. I bought it for myself as a birthday present a year ago, and I still have plenty left. I use it sporadically, when I’m feeling extra green and in need of some bronze oomph. The real MVP,  though, is the gradual face tan. I use this daily on my face, as the last step in my routine. It can go under or on top of makeup, and it doesn’t dye my hands. I use six drops and there is a noticeable difference within a few hours. I also bought the freckle stain, too, because I don’t mind being marketed to but that’s another story for another day. Both of the foam and the oil are natural and free of yucky ingredients.
  3. Vitamin D. Keeping in mind that this is a fat-soluble vitamin, it’s important to develop an individualized regimen. The kidneys do not excrete vitamin D like they do Vitamin C, which means overdose and toxicity are a very real risk. If it’s available to you, I’d get lab work before you start. However, the general consensus by the medical community is that a daily dose of 1,000-2,000 units is safe year-round. Most people in Alaska are taking more than that. My mentor physician here advised that I take 4,000u daily, despite my normal Vitamin D bloodwork results. This is because we get such little sun during the winter months. I started my children on 1,000u daily and bumped them up to 2,000u about a month into winter. I can’t prove that my mood is better because of it, because I didn’t risk going without it.
  4. The right gear. The saying is very, very true. There is no bad weather, only bad gear. We spent a lot of money on quality items, in hopes that we’d be able to get by with fewer things; I can now testify that it was worth it. My kids each have one pair of snow pants, one pair of snow boots, one hat, and two pairs of gloves. They wear these items daily, on top of their regular clothes, to and from school, and whenever they play outside. They really like these coats, but we also bought these on super-sale last summer. Chris and I would probably agree that our thermal boots were our greatest winter investment. We have taken long walks in deep snow in them, and they consistently keep us warm and dry. I have also been pleasantly surprised by how much I like wool. I have several sweaters and even a boiled wool jacket that I prefer to synthetic coats, because they are both warm and waterproof. I guess it makes sense; wool covers were my favorite when I cloth diapered my babies! I would be remiss if I didn’t mention Noihsaf Bazaar, Poshmark, and eBay. We find great items secondhand on these sites and I always start there before buying new.
  5. The outdoors. On the darkest days, I took a walk. On the stir-craziest afternoons, I opened a window. On the rare days when the sun shined through the clouds, I bundled up and stood outside with my face tilted toward it. I’ve grown to respect and cherish the cold.  I love the way the snow sounds beneath my feet. I love the fastidious task of shoveling stairs and scraping off a windshield. The brisk air in my lungs reminds me that I am alive and a small part of a big, vast, natural world. I try to stealthily sneak out onto the deck every time I see a moose, just to laugh at it clomp on by. I cannot get over the two bald eagles that live in the tree across the street; I’ll never grow tire of watching them soar through sunlight and snow alike. Our kids have learned to ice skate, cross-country ski, and ice fish. Their school sends them outside for recess no matter the weather. One day during winter break, we forgot to feed them lunch because they stayed outside all day long. I simply cannot see a way through winter without embracing it.

And there you have it – my tips for thriving in an arctic climate! Being that it was our first winter out of the south, I’d love to hear what works/doesn’t work for you cold-weather experts. Honestly, I’m not ready for this season to pass. I’m hoping for at least one more snowstorm before break-up season (apparently what they call early springtime around here, when the ice starts to break up and we can no longer skate, or drive, on our lakes). Good winter day to you!

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COVID-19 health & wellness

COVID-19 Life in a Long-Term Care Facility

The following has been adapted from two Instagram story series; video versions are available in the COVID-19 highlight on my profile!

Each day, I check in outside of our locker room, where we change into scrubs. I log my temperature, along with any symptoms, exposure, or recent travel. Each week, I swab. We use anterior testing, not oropharyngeal. It’s just a quick swipe of the nostrils for 10-15 seconds. Long-term care employees at my hospital test based on the number of cases in town. Sometimes, it’s twice a week. Other times, it’s once per month. My unit has been on lockdown since March of 2020, which means that every single case of COVID-19 will be brought in by staff. We have had zero so far, because of these practices. This is laborious, isolating, and inconvenient. It is also saving lives. It is my honor to follow Jesus in this way.

When I said that this is isolating, I mean for the staff. I appreciate the concern for our residents and yes, we have faced real challenges, both emotional and logistical over the last year. But lemme paint a picture so you have facts and not just talking points.

First, our LTC is the resident’s new family. No matter how faithful someone is to visit their loved one, it will never equal or surpass the time the resident spends with their neighbors and staff at a facility. It’s what they signed up for when they moved in, and that community has not been taken from them. Residents are not locked down in their rooms. Second, there are several reasons someone comes to live in a facility. The main reason is caregiver strain, or no caregiver at all. I’m not passing judgment, but the fact is that many residents weren’t receiving visits before the lockdown. Also, some residents have families out-of-state, or no family at all. Additionally, 100% of our residents’ families support our safety measures. Some have even turned down special consideration for in-person visits in favor of a safer option.

Third, I said numbers cannot lie and I mean it. Many of you healthcare workers sent me stories of one case getting into your facility, and then cases (and deaths) climbed for weeks afterward. One of you was required to work with your sick residents while you had the virus yourself. It’s truly remarkable that we haven’t had a case yet. But in addition that important number, I should also tell you that nobody at my facility has died as a result of isolation. And to take it further, nobody has lost weight or experienced a new decline in function or mood.

Why? Because fourth, we’re doing a lot. I started a happy light program several months ago, and I’m getting people off of sedating psych meds. The residents play bingo. Staff read the news individually to each resident each morning and sit with them at meals. Residents get to go outside on our deck, and even on van rides around town for a change of scenery. Family can visit via FaceTime or window, and in-person visits are arranged for emergencies and special occasions. Our people are living through a pandemic but they rarely, rarely alone. I know this is not the case for every facility in every community. Last year, I saw hospice patients in a long-term care that had been locked down and also staffed by FEMA, due to so much patient/employee illness. I know many facilities still have their residents confined to their rooms, and many are decompensating and getting worse due the isolation. It’s real and sad and hard and wrong. Again, my current work environment is the only story I can share in real time. And again, all COVID-19 cases are brought in from the outside of these facilities, which makes an excellent argument for each of us doing our part on the outside.

This brings me back to the beginning. The last year has been incredibly laborious, isolating, and inconvenient for ME. I’m not referencing the devastating effects of a global pandemic on our economy and education system and emotional health today. These are important topics for another day. I’m specifically speaking to my experience working with a high-risk patient population.

I moved here last May and haven’t met my coworkers without masks in place. It’s difficult to say no to travel and hangouts. The scrubs are scratchy and make my legs burn. There is a low buzzing hum of tension and anxiety all day everyday, as we try not to remember all of the steps and prepare our answers to questions by inspectors and encourage one another to get vaccinated. This morning I overheard a masked coworker in the gym, declining an invite to something because “I work in long-term care and I need to protect the residents.” Did I mention I don’t even know what my coworkers look like?! I recognized her by her voice.

My point is that it’s both-and. It’s laborious, isolating, and inconvenient. It’s also ministry. When I feel overwhelmed and yet compelled to help, there are action steps. Read the experts! Wear the mask! Wash the hands! Keep the safe distance! Talk openly and accurately about the vaccine! Pray! Pray! Pray!

When I spell it out like that, my role suddenly seems simple and not so unbearable after all. I’d even go as far as to say my personal rights feel wholly intact. I do not feel threatened or infringed upon.  And even if or when my personal rights comes under attack, I’ll lay them down gladly. I follow Jesus. I signed up for this.

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politics & leadership the whole & simple gospel

The reckoning of poor discipleship.

When I’ve said the same something in conversation with multiple people multiple times over multiple months, it’s usually time to talk about it in a more public forum. It’s not my lane of expertise and I’m still a Church girl for life. But after thirty years as a church member and twelve as a staff wife, and after the experiencing 2020 with the rest of you, I think I’ll honor the Bride of Christ more with my words than with my silence.  I believe we are seeing the 1990’s model of the seeker-sensitive megachurch collapse beneath its own weight, without the foundation of the gospel to hold it up.

There was richness there, where I met Jesus. I’m forever grateful for my parents and the body of believers who introduced me to the lifesaving good news of the gospel. But there were large gaps, too. I learned to invite friends on Sunday, not to read my Bible on the days between services. I learned to consume church programming, not to sit in contemplation or suffering. I learned one way to vote, not the many roles the Church has/should play in hot button issues. I learned salvation, not sanctification.

I came of age as large churches began to de-program their robust schedules, opting instead to encourage its members into small groups that met in homes throughout the week. Even still, I don’t look back and see discipleship as a focus. The model was based primarily on discussing Sunday’s sermon or a Sunday school-style lesson, as well as finding friendship inside the megachurch. We’d share a meal, watch a video, and then superficially discuss until it was time to leave. It also added another event to an already-full calendar, only to be spent in insulated community with other believers, not in missional relationship with neighbors and coworkers.

This feel-good, numbers-focused model raised an entire generation, myself included, to grow an inch deep and a mile wide. I remember party after party, event after event, worship service after worship service. But I don’t remember any one-on-one meetings or small groups that taught the basic spiritual disciplines of following Jesus. I remember being told that if I lay down with dogs, I’d get up with fleas, and that I should be careful with the friends I chose. I don’t remember any lessons on missional living. I don’t remember any lessons on how to be in the world and not of it. I loved church growing up, but for the most part… we showed up, checked the Jesus box, and went about our lives.

Even as I entered adulthood and married and started a family, I found it difficult to resist the allure of a church that boasted how many baptisms they’d performed on Sunday but never invited people to learn the discipline of prayer and fasting on Monday. Thanks to be God, I eventually saw the light, and we have since been a part of very different church families that focus on spiritual formation and teach both discipleship and its cost.

To this day, I still prefer a large sanctuary with hundreds of people and loud music and yes, even a light show! Currently, we work for a church that offers none of these things. What is it that keeps me committed to the local Church, you ask? The message preached from the pulpit, the same one lived out during the week by the people who call it theirs. The Body of Christ who has counted the cost of following Jesus and still chooses it anyway. The impact witnessed and felt and experienced by the surrounding community, as a result of authentic and sacrificial mission. We’ve served at several churches over the last decade and the ones who embodied these elements have truly felt like home. I’m so grateful.

But at the risk of overgeneralizing, an entire generation of kids who said yes to Jesus at summer camp and reached for purity rings after burning their secular cd’s is now grown and in crisis. We’re working, marrying, and raising families in a pandemic.

We can’t get our weekly worship fix or even find our footing. We’re floundering. It’s no wonder we’re falling for conspiracy theories and resorting to sinful self-preservation at a time like this.

We are an entire generation of Christians taught to see God as copilot, only to realize we were never flying the plane to begin with.

And we never really took the time to get to know the real pilot. As the world spirals out of control, we’re missing the tools needed to navigate life in a faith-filled and healthy way.

I don’t believe a single person or theological idea or denomination is to blame. I think we were deceived, not unlike Eve in Genesis 3. I think we got off track subtly over the course of decades. I think we mistook influence for power. I think we twisted the Great Commission into a numbers game, like any good business would. But we aren’t a business. We are the Body of Christ. And I pray that the reckoning of our severe lack of discipleship leads the Church to a place of repentance and revival like the world has never seen.

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politics & leadership

On finding gospel-centered commentary.

I’ve been asked how I read the news from time to time, and I’ve been asked how to discern trustworthy resources when navigating the wild ride we’ve all been on for the last year and beyond. I’ve recently noticed an uptick in Christian folks sharing dangerous misinformation at worst, and poorly-sourced content at best; this troubles me.

I’m not talking about COVID-19. You can read my approach to wading through scientific research here and here. I’m not even talking about race. You can find my book list here, and you can see the voices I trust by checking out my “following” list on Twitter or Instagram. Today, I want to talk about how I critically appraise Christian opinions on politics. Although I won’t pretend to get it right all of the time, I do feel a deep sense of peace about my relationship with the news and online content in general. I’m happy to share how I get there! To clarify, this is for those who identify as Jesus followers wanting to stay informed about current events and politics through a gospel lens. Also worth noting – I don’t have cable and have never consistently consumed mainstream television networks as a source of news.

Rules to read by:

Track record matters. How long has the source been in the game? This is not about age, as much as duration. Have they proven themselves for a consistent amount of time in the area they’re now trying to lead with authority? I’ve come across several voices in the last year who are captivating, thought-provoking, and very well-spoken. In addition, they love Jesus and make very strong cases for their personal views. However, they’ve only been doing their thing for a few months at most. There is nothing wrong this! But they cannot serve as a primary source for me. I will continue to weigh their content against more seasoned voices as the headlines continue, and I will also pay close attention to their process – how they obtain, synthesize, and share information. Additionally, I will be on the lookout for opportunistic content. People who find their online platforms growing rapidly will face temptation to capitalize on that, and not always for the greater good of their followers.

Education matters. Do they have a degree, or any formal training, in the area in which they work? Have they served as aides, interns, or volunteers on teams and projects that bolstered their experience and expertise? I really cannot over-emphasize this one. Although it feels sheepish to obtain a doctoral degree and then decide to talk about this, it matters greatly. I was led astray for years on various topics, from vaccines to Walmart’s employee practices to the food industry to the seeker-sensitive megachurch model, all because I listened to people who had no legitimate background in those areas. I recently came across a court case on abortion, where the sole expert witness called to testify was actually a podcaster with no formal expertise on the topic. It’s not that outside opinions aren’t valuable, but opinions do not make someone an expert. A communications degree does not make one a policy guru, any more than tithing to membership at a church that cares well for the poor makes one an economist.

Affiliation matters. Who claims them? Are they active members at a local church? Who shares their content? Have they published or presented on a panel for any large, respected organizations? Do they serve on any advisory boards? Do professional groups seem them out for advice? I have received quite a few messages over the last year, from people asking for help sorting out a resource only to find a link to an inflammatory YouTube video without any context, or content on a password-protected alt-right website. I cannot find any evidence that Jesus lead people to the light by way of rogue secrecy. Additionally, it’s important to me that the ideas folks espouse online be consistently lived offline in community. I find great comfort in knowing that my favorite online Bible teachers, especially the ones who talk a lot about politics, are already doing all of that in their local church. Accountability is an important element of integrity.

Character matters. Matthew 7:20 tells us we shall know people by the fruit they produce. Galatians 5 very clearly spells out the fruits of the Spirit – love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. No matter the industry or political views or even the family to which people belong, Jesus followers should never look like the rest of the world. We are to be known for what we’re for, not what we’re against. When I find myself following voices who spend the majority of their time tearing things down (ideas, opposing parties, other people, etc.), it’s time for me to re-evaluate how much attention I give them. Jesus did not hesitate to speak truth to power or enter into a debate when needed, but he answered far fewer questions than he asked and he never, ever degraded the imago Dei in people.

I’ll conclude with a list of Christian voices I trust in the political arena. It’s by no means exhaustive; I’m sure I’m forgetting key people. But the following pass my test of track record, education, affiliation, and personal integrity of character. I believe these individuals have counted the cost of both following Jesus and discipling others, and I’m grateful to look to them as I sort through the news. Linking their Twitter profiles because it’s my favorite platform for this kind of work: Russell Moore, Sharon Miller, Rich Villodas, Shannan Martin, Carlos Whittaker, Beth Moore, Erin Moon, Karen Swallow Prior, Daniel Hill, Derwin Gray, Eugene Cho.

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politics & leadership the whole & simple gospel

I feel a lot of things about the future, but fear is rarely one of them.

I’ve had several conversations about fear lately, with folks who have different political views from me but share a similar faith background. I try to end these discussions the same way each time… I feel a lot of things about the future, but fear is rarely one of them.

These talks usually include what-ifs and worst-case scenarios, and they usually end with Christians being persecuted or at the very least, moved to the minority and the margins. Are you paying attention? See this slippery slope? Doesn’t this scare you?

I’m all for using the language you want to use (see this post), but I’d like to argue a case against this type of rhetoric. For a Christian to live in a constant state of fear, or even to encourage dialogue that lands on fear instead of pointing back to Jesus implies two things. First, it says that you don’t trust God. Second, it says that you feel your job as a Christian on earth is to advance God’s kingdom through force, in both the law of the land and in culture. Both of these notions are ineffective at best, destructive at worst, and sinful regardless.

Do I want to be restricted or persecuted for following Jesus in the United States? Of course not. Unfortunately, it’s one of the only things I’m promised in Scripture, along with God’s presence and comfort. John 15 and Matthew 5 are great examples. If Jesus was treated poorly for who he was, we are guaranteed similar treatment from time to time. Are we to storm the gates of whatever person or institution we feel is at fault? Are we to fight back? Nope. Matthew 5 and Romans 12 are very clear on that. We are to pray for those who persecute us. We are to serve and love and submit to leaders. We are to live in harmony with one another, despite our circumstances.

Do I anticipate restriction or persecution for following Jesus in the United States? No. Our country was founded on religious liberty, not religion itself; many laws were written into place to protect that. Remember, we are not currently a Christian nation by law, we never truly have been, and we never will be. That being said, I can’t tell the future. It’s just nice to know that the Constitution already addressed this hundreds of years ago so I don’t have to.

Do I fear persecution for following Jesus in the United States? Still, no. In countries where Christianity has never been mainstream or even legal, the Church is alive and well. It is flourishing. We could only hope to have a vibrant, selfless Body of Christ in the United States like some I’ve seen across the ocean. Acts and Romans give us an excellent template, should we ever have to “go underground.” While I’m at it, I’d argue it’s the original template for the Church in general; perhaps we’ve grown uncomfortable with it because we’ve strayed so far from it.

But I digress. Back to fear. In sickness, in death, in hardship… the Church will always have the potential to thrive and grow. We were never promised a building or a majority or a seat at the table “in the room where it happens.” My hope and my home are in heaven. I have experienced devastation before, and I will again before I finish this life. But I’d like to spend the time I have left being at peace, not afraid.

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marriage

Thank God for bad dates.

Growing up, I had two very intense crushes that went on for years and also went nowhere. One was my best friend in the neighborhood, a sweet boy who grew comfortable enough with me to ask for advice about girls he liked (I know. I know. It is painful even now, twenty-four years later). We rode bikes together every day and then I’d lie in bed at night planning our wedding.

The other crush was the lifeguard at our pool. He was two years older and I was very shy, but that did not stop me from waiting on AOL Instant Messenger to see if he’d sign on. After a few years of silent stalking and smiling across the pool and daydreaming about faking a drowning episode, I turned sixteen; he was still working at the pool in the summer. We eventually exchanged contact info and months later, we started talking on AOL. Things are fuzzy, but I think he told me he had a crush on me. Hallelujah! He definitely invited me to a New Year’s Eve party. Absolutely! It was at a hotel just off of the interstate, in a suite he and some friends had rented. Why not?! Despite the questionable and dangerous setup, my parents lost their minds and said I could go as long as I brought a friend and left as soon as the Times Square ball dropped on TV.

What is better than a New Year’s Eve party with a boy you’ve liked for most of your life? Nothing! That’s what. The big day arrived, and my friend and I were off to the races. She also lived in the neighborhood and had been faithfully supporting my romantic quest for years. This was also an excellent opportunity for her to evaluate my crush’s friend selection, in case any suited her fancy. When we got to the party, I didn’t drink. I didn’t flirt. In fact, I can’t remember a single moment, other than I know I wasn’t alone with this guy all night long. I think I sat on the couch and watched TV? Every time I stole a glance at the boy, he was being loud and silly with his friends. Midnight came. The ball dropped, which was my cue to leave. I don’t think my crush even noticed my exit. After loading my friend into my car (who, by the way, had a FABULOUS time) and pulling my Ford Bronco out of the hotel parking lot, I called the boy. What courage?! Text messaging was not yet mainstream; my cell phone was for emergencies only and came with an antenna. The boy answered. I told him, with my actual voice, that I’d had a rotten evening. He told me to come back. I pulled a u-turn and whipped into the hotel parking lot, my drunk friend cackling in the passenger seat. The boy was waiting outside of the hotel. I rolled my window down a few inches. He lurched forward and planted a quick, awkward Grandma-style peck of a kiss on my face. I rolled up the window and drove away. My friend whooped and hollered. Victory.

A few long, excruciating days later, the boy called. He invited me to a movie. Yes! I couldn’t wait. We were finally going to get things rolling and be the dreamy couple I knew we could be. He picked me up on that historic winter night in his very tiny, very fast sports car. I knew it well, as I used to check on its status in the pool parking lot. He was quiet en route, although with his subwoofers and modified muffler I’m not sure I could have heard him speak anyway. As we walked up to the ticket counter, he mumbled something. I’m sorry, what? Please repeat? My ex-girlfriend, he says. She’ll be mad if she finds out I paid for your movie ticket tonight.

Fighting the urge to look around for his ex, possibly spying in the bushes, I fumbled in my purse to pay my own way. I felt desperate for the moment to pass. I felt certain the person at the ticket counter heard. I felt certain the people behind us heard. I felt certain everyone in the world just heard my dream date tell me he wasn’t actually my dream date. I rallied and walked inside, ready to sit in a dark theater next to this boy who smelled good and might redeem himself. The night was still young. Maybe he’d hold my hand, and his ex-girlfriend wouldn’t notice with her ex-girlfriend radar. I could only hope.

The movie theater was packed; the only available seats were at the very back, beneath the projector. We stepped over and around people, working our way down the row and settling in just in time for the previews. As I felt myself begin to relax and enjoy the evening, I heard a familiar voice. Rachael? Rachael Brown? I slowly turned to my left to find my dad’s best friend sitting right next to us. He hugged me, and then he leaned across me to shake my date’s hand. His wife leaned over and gave her greetings, and it was all over. I don’t remember the rest of the night, but I can look back and smile. A few short years later, I met a man who would never lose me at a party or ask me to pay for my own movie ticket again. Thank God for bad dates.

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