“But if serving the LORD seems undesirable to you, then choose for yourselves this day whom you will serve, whether the gods your ancestors served beyond the Euphrates, or the gods of the Amorites, in whose land you are living. But as for me and my household, we will serve the LORD.” Joshua 24:15

On our first Christmas I got the idea that I would make my own tree ornaments. I am not very good at this type of stuff, but through the years one ornament survived. It is the most unattractive of all ornaments, in fact my five-year-old grandson could have done a better job. This ornament symbolizes our marriage. Every year I carefully bubble wrap the ornament and every year I pull it out and hang it next to ornaments of more beauty. The simple handmade addition to the tree will always hold this special meaning. It is fragile and some of glitter always ends up on my hands, reminding me of how something so meaningless to others is so valued in my heart.

With 46 years of marriage under my belt, I can truly say that we are a testament of what a marriage is about. I could have never succeeded in anything in my life without God. We fight for what God  has brought together. From my marital experience I have learned a lot. One lesson is that a woman must know her role in the family. If you treat your mate like a king you will in turn be treated like a queen. The man too must know his role as a provider or else the marriage is not on a solid foundation.

It was not always like this in our marriage, because I was hellbent on being a feminist. I wanted my equal rights, and believed that if I did not stand up for my convictions I would fall into the cracks of a man’s world. This caused an unnatural imbalance in our marriage. I attended a class of hard knocks, sat in the front row and learned my proper role as a wife. I became submissive, not in a weak sense  but in a loving manner. My marriage grew stronger and stronger because of the rules that God had laid down in the Bible thousands of years ago. By no means is my marriage perfect, but we fix things that are broken.

In my late  thirties I did attend a class at a local church on how to become a “fascinating woman.” This was a mini seminar that at first I struggled with because I thought I knew everything about life. These classes helped me to become more intuitive in my mannerism as a woman. The redirection from the classes facilitated my life with Godly order.

I was gradually changing, I started to thank Mike for the things that he naturally did for me. Mike washes my car every other week and gasses it up. I always took this for granted, but I started calling Mike and thanking him for doing this, and I really meant it. I was changing and becoming more appreciative of all that he did for me. He, in return, would speak to me in a more loving and kind way. We have always loved each other, but not always appreciated what we did for each another. Mike is that guy that wants to take care of his family and I like being cared for, as it feels safe.

Even in this stage in our marriage we experience trials, but none that God can’t repair.  Just like I protect that special ornament by keeping it safe, so our marriage need that same gentle touch; that’s how our family deals with marriage.

My organizational chart reads: God first, followed by husband, and then children, I am not listed on this corporate graph because I am a intricate part of everyone I love.

We all have a free will, so choose God and your path will be straight.

“Let the peace of Christ run in your hearts, since as members of one body you were called to peace. And be thankful.” Colossians 3:15

My husband, Mike, has been making our Thanksgiving dinner for as long as I can remember.  He brines the bird overnight, and is up by 4:00 A.M. to start all the side dishes. I usually go to the 9:00 AM Mass and then clean up all the pot and pans that Mike uses. Mike is a lone cook and needs the entire kitchen to himself. Don’t bother with small talk because his head is so in the game that he can’t hear you. I learned early on not to bother the genius while he is cooking. With every move of his hands, chopping, stirring, grating, seasoning and tasting , it is done in great love for his family.

I never really understand why Mike likes to use those cheesy aluminum containers, but last year it was a disaster. When we remodeled our kitchen, I wanted a colored stove with personality. We purchased a mint julep Viking stove, Mike used this oven for the turkey. He placed a 24-pound turkey with stuffing into the flimsy aluminum tray. Everything was going great, the house smelled of turkey, and all the trimmings, and even the basting was going great. Mikos (our son) came in and darted straight  into the kitchen for sampling, he picked at everything possible and disappeared before the turkey incident. Mike was about ready to get the turkey out when that cheap tray screamed, “I can’t hold all this weight!” The aluminum container  buckled and all the juices from our beautiful bird fell on to the kitchen floor. In a panic Sonja and I tried to save some of fat for the gravy while Mike transferred the fowl into the proper container. The smell of burnt fought with the scent of the turkey, but what was burning? At first I thought it was the juices hitting the oven floor but the smell was different. All of the stove’s electrical compartments are located where the juices fell. For days the burnt smell would slap you in the face as soon as you opened the front door.  The repair was a huge expense, and the Viking representative said that we burnt out the main transformer.

After dealing with the angry bird, we said grace and chowed down yet another of Mike’s perfect meals. It is an unbelievable experience to eat Thanksgiving at our home. The turkey is tender with a sweet hint of spices that dance slowly in your mouth. Mike’s potatoes are eleven-layer au gratin with special sort of stinky cheese that blends perfectly when baked. The stuffing is Mike’s own creation of corn tortillas, hot sausages, onions and God know what else. The tortillas are fried first, and then added to the mix. The cream style corn is everyone’s favorite, and Mike broils it, making the top a bronze color. The only downfall of our eating frenzy is that we always seem to burn the rolls, so I’m taking the rolls to Mass to get them blessed.

Jenny is in charge of appetizers and salad. Our sweet Jenny makes the best salads with homemade dressing, and surprises us with wonderful appetizers. Sonja is in charge of the desserts, not just any but award-winning pecan pie, bread pudding, and pumpkin pies, so you need to save room for these delights. The award is that we get to eat them. Mikos brings the beer and Russ makes the best corn dip ever! Norma, Mike’s sister and her husband Les drive all the way from Buellton to join the feasting, bringing wine from their region to complement our meal.

During  dinner it’s Mike this, Mike that, so many compliments, but does anyone compliment the cleanup lady? While everyone is visiting, I’m elbows deep in deboning the leftover meat off the turkey. Sorting and putting food away, and washing the real silverware and stem crystal by hand is a monumental chore. Not once has anyone said “Wow Mom! You really know how to clean!” They are too full, and the food coma has caused them to see life in a blur. In the last couple of years some of the ladies have helped with the cleanup which is greatly appreciated. I vaguely remember Mikos and Russ (son-in-law) helping as well, but for the most part It’s me.

Thanksgiving Prayer:

Dear Lord, We invite you into our home to bless all who pass through our threshold.  We are ever thankful for all you do for us. Bless those that prepared the meal with great love. Let our conversation be loving and kind. May there be joy in our mouths and hold our tongues from speaking hurtful words. Bless all the volunteers that take time from their busy day to feed the homeless. In great Thanksgiving of your wonderful love we praise you!

It took four states to reach our destination of Kalispell, Montana, for Aaron and Zak’s wedding. With Mike’s (husband) Southwest points we make it to Spokane, Washington. From there we rented a vehicle and drove five hours to Kalispell. Sonja and Aaron are college friends and were sorority sisters at Pepperdine. Aaron spent many holidays with our family and she is like a daughter to us. With Sonja being a bridesmaid, It was my pleasure to accompany her to stand in her dear friends wedding.

When we arrived in Spokane we upgraded our vehicle to a four-wheel drive due to the snow that we knew was ahead of us. Sonja typed in the address into the app of her phone and we were off. Neither of us had ever been to Montana. The drive was beyond my expectations of beautiful, but about an hour into trip it started to snow. At first the snow was gentle and then it turned into a steady shower, obstructing our view. Sonja was in a panic and could not find the windshield wipers, and in the meantime the other bridesmaids were texting us to make sure we were heading in the right direction. Jacque, one of the bridesmaids, was worried because she knew that we are not experienced snow drivers, so she suggested that we meet and follow her into to Kalispell. Sonja was fine until we lost contact with the free world and our Internet was down. Suddenly my position as co-pilot was demoted to scapegoat,  with Sonja yelling, “Please can you just help and tell me where we are!” I’d look at my phone but the search engine kept spinning with the notification of “no connection.” I tried to make small talk but Sonja was headstrong and wanted directions. Sometimes, because God is on my side, the Internet would kick in long enough to make sure we were going in the right direction. The bridesmaids warned us not to take the fastest route due to the road being too scary for two California women who know nothing of driving in snow. Did Sonja listen? Nope, she headed straight into that no man’s land where the deer and the antelope not only play but own the roads. As it got dark Sonja said she could not see, I had to ignore her because I sure was not going to offer to drive. Sonja almost hit a beautiful deer and accused me of not warning her. She said, ” Instead of getting your phone out to take pictures of the animal, you should tell me that you see it!” I asked why, and she said, “so that she would not hit it.”

When we finally arrived we headed straight to the beauty salon for much-needed beauty treatments. I got my nails done and Sonja got a mani-pedi, and we met the rest of the bridesmaids over cheese and wine.

The following day was the bridal luncheon, so I was so glad that we dressed up a little because all the women were in nice dresses. I wore a dress with, of course, my trusted Spanx’s black tights, with a matching burgundy coat. After meeting Zak, the groom, and Soren, Zak and Aaron’s baby, we mingled with the rest of the guests. It was about 2:30 PM and we decided to drive to Glacier National Park. We did not change our clothes, but it did not matter because the boots that I packed had no traction and I was slipping with any sight of snow. Glacier National Park was so beautiful that we had to experience in on foot.  The fear of falling guided my every step, and at every move I yelled out Sonja’s name. Sonja had made her way to the end of the dock and was busy taking pictures. She forgot I was behind her, slowly making my way with an invisible walker.

That night the bridal party was meeting for a pub crawl.  I wanted nothing to do with this but we met with the group at a local bar. We tried to sneak out but Ryan, one the groomsmen, did not allow us, and made us walk to the grand opening of a art gallery across the street. The small town of Whitefish was bustling with scores of people because it was “Ladies’s Night,” when once a year the local vendors discount their merchandise, especially for women. After the art gallery, Sonja and I did make our great escape and left the partying to the locals.

On Saturday the day of the wedding, Aaron came to pick up Sonja for hair and makeup. Our hotel was in Whitefish, which is a 15- minute drive from Kalispell. I dreaded driving in the slush but I needed to eat, and it was 2:30 PM by the time I built up enough nerve to drive. I made a dry run to the venue and wanted to walk around the quaint ski village, but my boots were too stupid and I kept slipping on the snow. I stumbled upon Desoto BBQ and Beer Grill. I texted the wedding girls and Wendy said that it was safe to eat there. I have the bad reputation of always ordering the wrong thing, but not today. My food experience at this little hole in the wall was so wonderful that it brought my taste buds to another level, adding an eighth sense of what real brisket is all about. My salad was an interracial marriage of warm brisket atop lettuce, hardboiled eggs, carrots, tomatoes, cucumbers, olives, and creamy ranch dressing. The meal was  like listening to a violin with the sweeting corn bread, not just any corn bread but what I imagined the Israelites experienced in the Sinai Dessert “manna.”  It was heavenly.

The wedding was the highlight of the  trip, and  it was  held in the KM Building, a historical building owned by Aaron’s family. It was transformed into romantic scene of candles and old wooden carts with the backdrop of the antique windows,  and it was stunning. When Aaron walked in to claim her spot her groom was looking into her soul. I prayed for them during their nuptials and knew that they were meant for each another. Aaron’s sister Hallie graciously did the officiating of the celebration, making it extra special. The dancing bride and groom moved to the sound of every beat and it was a delight to experience this in person.

The following day we had a 4:00 PM flight to catch in Spokane, so we needed to get on the road. Again, Sonja put the address in the navigation to the airport, but it took us on a completely different route. Sonja’s phone kept getting text messages from the girls saying their good-byes. We were about two hours out when we heard another beep but this time it was the car. We needed gas and the nearest town was still 90 miles away. Sonja looked at me and asked me why I did not put gas in the car. My reply was that I did not drive the car. Sonja’s response was, “Mom, do you see where we are? We have 50 miles of gas! Please do something!” I looked on my apps map for a gas station but the response was “no results.”  We did not have any water, and I ate the Southwest peanuts in my purse the day before. No Internet, no gas and no food or water, and Sonja screaming ,”What the hell are we going to do? We are in the middle of nowhere! I can’t believe you forgot to get gas!” I cleared my throat and said, “I’m going to pray.” My prayer was simple, I asked God to make a gas station appear out of nowhere. Five minutes later was a sign from God  that read “Happy 10 miles.” One store in the most remote location with gas pumps; yes, God did answer our prayers. We were both “Happy!”

I enjoyed every part of this trip, especially meeting all the kind faces and making new friends. Thank you Aaron and Zak for including us in your blessed event!