Ol' Friends

Yesterday we drove (and drove and drove and...) to Jackson, WY.  It took a while because we had to drive through Yellowstone and the Teton National Parks the whole way through.  It's a crying shame I have to live in such an ugly part of the world.  You should feel sorry for me.

We met up with our friends Nick and Julie along with their cherubic-angle-pixie baby, Hope. 

She alone made the drive totally worth it.

Julie and I were friends in college.  She didn't like me at first (maybe-perhaps having to do with a certain older brother of her's maybe-perhaps liking me a little) but once that ended, she and I realized we were meant to be friends.  We have so many amazing memories together involving ice cream, running, hysterical laughter and some pretty tough trials as well.  

We connected in such a different time of life but God has brought us to similar paths now with husbands and babies.  It was wonderful to see her (and Nick) again after over two years.

 

And it was a pleasure meeting you, Miss Hope!

(Isn't she just delicious???)

I'm glad we got to see the Tetons again, too.  

Especially after our last visit.

God continues to amaze me in so many ways!

Christmas, Grace & Molly

This is Molly.  Her glasses are broken, her nose is a bit scuffed and her sweater has been snagged on numerous occasions.  Collector's item, she is not.

I love her.

I love her for many reasons, but the biggest reason is because of the way she came to me.  It's one of my favorite stories.  I want to share it with you.

I was 10 years old that Christmas.  The entire year I had poured over the American Girl catalog and I knew Molly was my girl.  She had glasses (like me), she could be a bit clumsy (like me), and she was always daydreaming (like me!).  I had read every one of her books from the library and had started saving my money so I could have her as my very own.

As Christmas approached, I knew the only thing I wanted was Molly.  But I also knew she probably wasn't in the budget.  The 7th little Zeller had been born that year and my mom had undergone surgery on her wrists.  I didn't know any of the budget details (my parents rarely talked about money) but in my heart I knew that $85 spent just on me would be a stretch.  So I decided to become enthusiastic about a (much cheaper) toy horse set I had seen at the local grocery store.  I even told Mom it was what I wanted for my "big present" and that I didn't want anything else.  But for some reason, I kept my hopes up.  Mom knew me well and surprises do happen at Christmas!

Christmas morning came and we rushed down the stairs to tear into our stockings.  I noticed a box about the size of the horses underneath the tree and I had a small sinking feeling.  "It's okay,"  I thought, trying to work up excitement through my disappointment.  Our parents woke to join their squealing brood and after we settled down and Mom put the traditional sticky buns in the oven, we sat to open our presents.

I don't remember the exact order, since I was oldest I probably was last.  When my turn came, I had decided to do this courageously and not show a speck of disappointment.

As I tore off the paper and saw the "American Girl" emblem on the box, I was in shock.  "It's HER!!"  I screamed as the rest of the paper flew off and I pulled up the lid.  On top of my precious Molly doll was a letter addressed to me in a strange hand.  Before I could touch Molly, I read what it said,

Dear Hannah,

There is a woman in the Bible with whom you share a very special name.  She wanted something in her heart so badly that she prayed and prayed and finally received her answer in the form of her son, Samuel.

When your Mommy mentioned your heart's desire to me, I began to pray that God would somehow honor your request. He moved my heart to provide this special gift for you, His special child.

When you see this gift, I'd like for you to remember the grace of our loving God.  You did not have to work for this gift, nor do you deserve it.  It is simply given to you, in the same way God's love is given to you.

Hannah, you are precious to God and to me.  God bless you, this Christmas and always!

With much love!

Mrs. Pizzi

I was in shock.  Me?  Why had a family friend chosen me?  At the age of 10, I was just beginning to not like myself.  My stick straight hair bobbed at the shoulders, thick glasses and crooked teeth.  I wasn't artistic like my sister, Marie.  I didn't do well in school like my sister, Heidi.  I wasn't even cute and charming like Clara.  Why me?

And I asked my Mom, "Why me?" She responded, "Mrs. Pizzi was the eldest in her family, too.  She wanted you to have Molly."  And while the tears came, I ran upstairs to write a thank you note, all other presents forgotten.

I carried Molly everywhere for months.  Her hair became ratty with all the brushing it received and her clothes saw many washes after playing outside.  As the years have passed, she has spent more time in a wicker basket, joined by other childhood treasures.  But even after she has been replaced by my other pursuits and now real dollies of my own, I will never, ever forget how special I felt that Christmas.

But the truth is, every second of every day, I am loved even more.  God didn't just give me a Molly doll, which He certainly did through dear Mrs. Pizzi, He gave me His life.

He gave up being King of the Universe and became a person.  A baby that could be cold and hungry, a boy that could fall and scrape his knee, a man that could be hated and then killed in the most excruciating way possible.  

Christmas is a cozy, joyful time.  I love it.  But the crazy grace and love shown to us by our God at Christmas should not only make us feel cozy and joyful, but leave us spellbound, not understanding, running to say thank you.

And asking "Why me?"

Because we did not have to work for this Gift, nor do we deserve it.

It's the grace of our loving God.

Molly is now loved by another little girl, my little girl.  But the letter I opened and read in disbelief so many years ago I have stored away in a special memory box to cherish forever.  I read it every Christmas.

No Picture

It was the fall of 2007.  We had been married a year and a half. I was newly pregnant with Charissa and was just starting to develop a teensy belly to prove it.  After Doug's graduation from Sangre de Cristo Seminary, we decided to take a "babymoon" of sorts and see part of the country.  And so, after rigging his pickup topper to hold a small mattress, we left our small Colorado town and headed north. 

We saw the plains of Wyoming.  The first night, we parked a rocks throw from a train track.  We didn't see the track in the darkness and were wrenched from a deep sleep by the train's blaring horn at 2am. 

We saw the Tetons in their jagged majesty.  There, a mama moose and her twins stood in the river and watched us solemnly as we took their picture.

We drove to Yellowstone and spent two nights.  Oh to describe Yellowstone!  Getting drenched by the water of a geyser.  Watching the wolves play with their pups.  The utter stillness of an autumn lake and hearing the insane laugh of a loon.  Seeing a photographer run for his life from a bull buffalo.  The variety in topography.  The unearthly water activity.  Stunning waterfalls.  The ridiculous tourists running with their cameras after coyotes while yelling "wolf! wolf!"  (Yes, I know I was a tourist too...)

We have decided when the kids are gone, we are buying a 5th wheel and somehow becoming camp hosts at one of Yellowstone's parks.  Simply amazing.

But we weren't done.

We continued north through Montana.  The dense forests. Lush mountain passes where there didn't seem to be enough room for the road and the river.  And oh, the mountains!  So many, many mountains! 

We saw Glacier National Park.  The crystalline lakes made of pure glacial melt.  We drove the Highway to the Sun..  We saw glaciers! (which really only looked like patches of snow.  But hey, they were glaciers!).  We camped between two huge mountains with the mountain goats foraging high above our heads.

I kept praying to see a grizzly during the day and then prayed fervently NOT to see a grizzly at night.

We walked a few feet into Canada but did not think giving up a grandfather's hand gun (to be destroyed) worth the day trip we had hoped to take into Canada. 

Some other day, Canada.

Then we went West and into Idaho.  Green, glorious Idaho.  The land of Sacajawea, Lewis and Clark , the land of the hydroelectric plant, the land of potatoes.  We camped here too, and watched the water birds dive. 

And we went south, back into Montana, through the Bitteroot Valley, up through Lolo Pass and to Idaho again.

We were driving into southern Idaho and I was looking at the pictures we had taken.  Then I realized: our most recent pictures from Salmon, Idaho were gone.  Just gone.  And so I turned off the camera.

We came to the potato part of Idaho.  I decided to check the pictures to see if they had magically returned.  And I did.

And all 600 or so pictures including Doug's graduation were gone.  Gone.  Gone.

Apparently, the memory card I had purchased for our voyage had to much memory and was not compatible with our camera.  And so instead of the camera telling us to stop taking pictures, it had scrambled them.

We did everything we could to salvage those pictures, but nothing is there.  We have the little disk in its plastic case as a sort of morbid souvenir. 

Perhaps some day we will retrace our trip.  Make some new memories and take new pictures.

But the old pictures are still in my head. 

I think they are far more beautiful there.