Three Winks

I winked three winks today. One with my left eye and two with my right.

My right one is afterall, better.

A few weeks before my Grandpa died I went with my mom to clean his house and visit. I sat in the stool next to him eating our sandwhiches and lightly swinging my feet. He turned to me and asked about the boy I was dating (Jon). I began to share bits of him with my Grandpa while he nodded and chewed. When I finished, he responded with a bark of a question.

"Do you love him?"

I smiled and responded with a bark of my own " Yes I do!"

"Is that right?"

I shyly nodded. I didn't know at that moment of seemingly casual conversation and swinging legs what his approaching words would mean to me. I watched as his wrinkles shifted from soft to stern. His hand curled into a fist and discharged his large pointer finger. And his eyes filled with experience reflecting tears.

"Well I have to tell you something about love. Love. is. not. Debateable. You either love someone or you don't, there is no question, there is no middle."

They were spoken so aloud but felt so quietly.

My Grandpa died a few weeks later, just a few days after I told him I was engaged. In response, I received a shout into the phone of "oh I knew it!"

He did know it. Just as he knew how much my heart needed his words. I put them up in my room that summer, next to his picture. I often found my eyes seeking solace when love seemed to fall in the middle and became easy to tug each way. I always found solace. And love was always placed back in it's proper spot. Even now, when it all gets too heavy and daunting, my Grandpa's wagging finger and overflow of love and wisdom come to lift and fill.

Love. is. not. Debateable.

I winked three winks today. One with my left eye and two with my right.

The action felt familiar but rusted.

I winked to say I miss you.

I winked to say I love you.

And I winked to say Thank You.

I'm sure he winked back.

He was afterall, an excellent winker.

Perfectly Imperfect

August 21, 2009
.....
One surprised girl with yesterday's eats unremoved from her teeth.
One boy scared out of his mind.
.....
One surprised girl, dirty teethed, and wearing a past boyfriends T shirt.
One boy scared out of his mind, voicing words with heart.
.....
One surprised girl, dirty teethed, past on back, crying.
One boy scared out of his mind, voicing heart, and asking.
......
One surprised girl, dirty teethed, past on back, crying, and quietly yessing.
One boy scared out of his mind, all voiced, heart full, and answered.
......

Platform 9 and...

I'm convinced there are two different types of people in this world.

"Harry Potter Lovers."

and

"Too Cool for Harry Potterers."

With full heart and pride I declare myself as a full time member in the first group. I am a "Harry Potter lover." I've devoured all seven books multiple times and have felt a constant void since the end of the 7th. I mourned at the deaths of Dumbledore, and Sirius and I still shiver at the word Avada Kedavra. I allow Harry the credit of brilliance when really his trusted friends and luck deserve the wizarding worlds praise. With these traits that belong to the Lovers, comes the tendency to spurt Harry Potter References:

"If I just had some Gillyweed" gasped as I popped out of the swimming pool water.

"It's like we are in Diagon Alley and just stepped into Weasley's shop!" blurted as I stepped into a toy store full of talking stuffed animals, bubbles, and flying toy airplanes.

" I really could use a Pensieve and a wand right now" said forlornly on a particularly stressful day.

I reference. I reference because there is a large part of me that has confused reality with book driven imagination. And I'm perfectly content with that confusion.

But here's the thing....I have married a man that is not a Harry Potter Lover.

I have married a "Too Cool Harry Potterer."

Oh it brings such pain when I think of it. I've spent years trying to change this unfortunate choice of his and initiate him in the world of Potter Happiness. The boy has refused my persuasion, cringed at my open nerdiness, and used every opportunity to roll eyes at my clever references.

At a time where I had resigned myself to the drawn line between our book preference, my "Too Cool Harry Potter husband cracked."

The two of us; lover and too cool, walked hand in hand through the airport trying to locate our gate. We were looking for B17. As we walked, scanning the indicator signs we saw a sign reading B16 & B14 on the left. We looked to the right and saw B15 and then further down at the end of the terminal B18. B17 was missing it seemed, nowhere to be seen. As I began to ask Jon what we should do, lovely words filled my ears.

" Maybe this is like Harry Potter and we have to push through the walls like platfrom 9 1/2"

I began to correct his platform number when it suddenly dawned on me what he just said.

A Harry Potter Reference!

Much to Jon's surprise and gladness, he quickly found that one Harry Potter Reference has the effects of approximately 3 flower bouquets, 5 voluntary kitchen cleanings, and 4 bowls of buttery popcorn.

The Effect: Pure Joy.

If the boy is smart he will take advantage of this new found weakness of mine. Now, If I'm smart... I will take advantage of this small crack and slowly and stealthily, turn him into a...Harry Potter Lover!

Ninety vs. One Hundred

I'd like to say I gained my testimony of tithing when I was seven.

I remember sitting quietly in Sunday School as rowdy boys ran swirls of irreverence into the carpet. The ever resilient teacher managed to break through the little boy mayhem with a "hands on" lesson. The teacher handed each of us a 1 dollar bill. Our fidgety hands found peace within the green folds of the cash which allowed our ears to listen. He taught about the law of tithing, how it was revealed, and how to uphold this law. He explained that the Lord wants 10% of our earnings. So in our case the Lord needed 10 pennies. He challenged each of us to pay our tithing and on the way out the door he handed each of us a tithing slip with an encouraging smile...

I remember turning the dollar over in my hand contemplating on shaking the lesson right out of my ears and stepping on it on my way to Franks Market. You see the minute the green touched my fingers I thought about blue raspberry, grape, apple, and strawberry tootsie rolls. My dollar could get me 100 of those little delights. But if I paid my tithing as instructed I would be out 10 tootsie rolls. After some serious consideration I realized it wouldn't be so bad if Heavenly Father only wanted 10 tootsie rolls. I mean my earthly dad's "tax" always left me at least 30 short. So I ended up putting a dime in an envelope and a spark of something in my heart.

I'd like to say I gained my testimony of tithing when I was seven. But this is not the case. The real testimony came when more than one dollar bill was in my grasp. The testimony came when I realized that Heavenly Father needs a lot more than just 10 tootsie rolls. I find myself month to month standing like a seven year old clutching my money and debating wether I will spend it on grown up tootsie rolls like mortgage payments, car insurance, and bills instead of sharing with Heavenly Father. I somehow tell myself I can spare a few and place the money in the envelope and add some faith to that growing spark in my heart.

The amazing thing is every month when we expect to come up short, we are blessed in excess. The blessings come in different forms such as a dollar raise to my salary and forgotten housing deposits. Each are beautifully merciful and very much appreciated. I'm so thankful for the testimony I grew of tithing. I'm so thankful for the joy that comes from having faith and living the gospel. And I'm so thankful that Heavenly Father always seems to share some of his tootsie rolls with me too.