Feb 022010

Have I mentioned yet that my husband is a model? He works for a few different agencies and does lots of print work and now that you know, you will probably notice him around here and there.

Craig never tells anyone about his modeling career. He is very shy about it. His friends tease him a lot and so do mine. My extended family is merciless, especially my Uncle Keith, whom you will be introduced to later in the week. Perhaps a better wife would be sensitive to her husband and refrain from writing about things that embarrass him. But it seems to me that there are many acceptable reasons for embarrassment, and being incredibly good looking just doesn’t make the cut. So sorry, Husband. Please consider this post to be an opportunity for character building. Sort of like your marriage to me.

I had a very dramatic pregnancy with Chase. In addition to the whole immaculate conception thing, which was REALLY hard for me to explain to skeptical people over and over…our doctor found a bright spot on Chase’s heart and a cyst in his brain at our first sonogram. These two markers, along with some other factors, led the doctors to believe that Chase had an increased risk for many serious health issues. We had appointments with specialists every week, and we researched and prayed and worried. It was quite a stressful roller coaster for two kids trying to get to know each other. It was like marriage boot camp. Craig and I learned early and fast how to depend on one another, and how to be dependable. We learned that in a marriage, you never crumble at the same time. You wait your turn. And we learned that when it gets really dark you just pretend you can see, or you sit quietly and hold hands until the light returns. It always does, eventually. During that time Craig and I learned that we could do hard things. It turned out to be a hell of a way to start a marriage, actually.

When I was seven months pregnant with Chase, he stopped moving completely. He didn’t move for 24 hours. I was teaching at the time, and during my lunch break I ate a candy bar and lay down, sure that the blast of sugar would get him going. It didn’t. I became terrified and called the doctor, who told me to get myself to her office right away. I called Craig, but he was in a meeting and didn’t answer his phone. I drove to the doctor’s office by myself, and sat in the waiting room and cried. I thought for sure that the doctor would tell me Chase was gone. I wanted Craig really, really bad. I prayed “help help help help.”

The doctor called me back to the examining room and asked me to change into a robe. She laid me down on the table and strapped the monitor around my belly. She told me that she would need to monitor Chase for several minutes and then she’d come back and meet with me. She asked if I’d like a magazine to keep my mind occupied and I said yes, please. But I didn’t really want a magazine. I still just wanted Craig really, really bad.

The doctor handed me a magazine and patted my head which made me both comforted and afraid. Then she left the room. I opened up the magazine with very shaky hands, and this is what I saw.

That’s Craig. That’s my HUSBAND. POSING as a STROLLER VALET.

In an ad that he’d done a decade before, and that neither of us had ever seen.

And here’s what I felt God say to my heart in that cold room all by my lonesome.

Look, sister, it’s ok. Craig will be pushing a real stroller soon and your son will be inside it. And no, Craig won’t be wearing that ridiculous vest, promise. But stop with the Immaculate Conception story, honey. Nobody’s buying it.

Craig busted through the exam room door while I was still staring at his picture in the magazine. He had listened to my phone message and talked to the doctor. He appeared to be completely terrified.

As Craig grabbed my hand, I looked up at him, smiled, and told him not to worry… everything’s going to be all right, I said.

Feb 092010

Just we.

Not better. Just Simpler.

Things were simpler then.

Just us, no she.

It really wasn’t

A cry

That first noise

It was a fanfare

Announcing a marvel that will never

Be repeated.

There are no satin wraps

There are no handmaidens

No emissaries with jewels

No trumpets of announcement

Where are they?

Where the hell are they?

Don’t they know what has happened here?

A princess has arrived.

But it’s no matter.

The queen touches

The still damp princess

the room is filled.

Not an inch remains.

The sound and fullness of love

Excludes all else.

They couldn’t enter or be heard were they here.

Times of only you and she.

No room for me.

It is right.

As it Should Be.

Time spent worried

About things I might

Not know how to handle…

Only to find

It was She

Who handled me.

How many times

Will she turn around?

How many birthdays

Will there be?

Before we turn around.

And where you sit

Will be


Happy Fourth Birthday, Patricia Faith.
I love you this much.

*Poem written by Bubba, as a Christmas gift to Tisha in 1976, the year their first daughter, Glennon, was born.

She, She, and She

Mar 292010

Lou asked for a Guest Post from Tisha, and what Lou wants, Lou gets. I found this letter recently while I was scrounging through Craig’s dresser, looking for money.

December, 2009

Dear Craig,

It’s 4:00 in the morning and Bubba is sound asleep. I have been awake for a while, just lying in bed. As I laid there, I began thinking of our family and all that we have gone through with Glennon’s diagnosis during the past ten days. Feelings of gratitude and appreciation filled my heart. I realized I wanted to come to the computer and write to you.

As you know very well, our little G-bird is a passionate person who uses all her energy to accomplish what she feels she must do. I know it takes a lot of energy to live with someone who lives passionately. I am so grateful that she is married to a man who supports and encourages her to follow her passions. She wanted so much to be Tishy’s preschool teacher and experience the magical world of preschool aged children. You helped her make that happen and it wasn’t easy. You converted your downstairs to a school which took away badly needed space. You supported her in financing the supplies and furniture necessary to create her “dream classroom.” You assumed care of the children when she needed to prepare lessons. G got her chance to live out this dream and you helped her make it happen.

You continue to support and encourage her with Momastery. I admire the journey you are taking as parents and as young adults trying to find the best road to travel. The fact that you are partners in this journey provides much of the substance of Momastery. Most importantly, though, it is your confidence that she does have special talents and your faith that she should be doing what she is doing that motivates her to spread her wings and fly. G has her chance to write and you helped make it happen.

For the support and encouragement of her spirit and for the faith you have in Glennon, I am truly grateful. Yet I am even more grateful for something else you do for her. Last Monday morning when Glennon was so very ill, you called me to ask how much further I had to go to get to your home. You sounded in charge and in control. When I hung up, I realized that despite the calm in your voice, you and I were both frightened but trying to remain composed. Of course I prayed for God to cleanse G’s body of anything that could hurt her, and I prayed for me to arrive safely and quickly to your home to take care of the children, but I also said a prayer of thanks that you were the one who was with her. You always do what is best for Glennon. I feel so grateful to have a son-in-law in whom I can always put my faith and trust. You always make decisions which will support her and protect her.

When your child becomes an adult, you no longer have the power to do what needs to be done to see that she is safe and protected. But to know that there is someone there taking over for you, who makes decisions carefully, thoughtfully, and unselfishly, because he loves her with his whole heart…that gives a parent peace. Thank you so much for my peace.

In one of Glennon’s blog entries about her recovery she wrote, “Craig is the only person who could have saved me.” I thank God for bringing you to her. And I thank you for loving her the way you do. I am Forever Grateful. Merry Christmas!

Love, Tisha

I love my mama. Deep breaths today, Monkees. Love, G

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