Who is she really?

So... do I go sappy with this post? I am pretty sure I can tug at the heart strings of all the females out there without getting too mushy.

If you are a Twilight fan than you know that the first book was written from Bella's point of view and after completing the saga, Stephanie Meyer attempted to go back and rewrite the first book from Edward's point of view. Due to someone leaking Edward's tale before the book was completed, Stephanie Meyer decided to quit midstream on the much anticipated, male perspective tale. The question is... Would the book from Edward's point of view capture the hearts of women more than the fable from Bella's point of view? Possibly. It's what women want right? To know how a man peels back the layers of a woman. Of course Edward isn't just any man. Edward isn't the man that magazine's portray as the average man who thinks about sex every 6 seconds. Women aren't out there looking to read a romance from Hugh Hefner's point of view. They want fantasy and fantasy to them is mysterious, easy on the eyes, and bottomless in intrigue!

I have a feeling that the attestation of Edward's view of Twilight was that of an effeminate Edward. As good of a writer as Stephanie Meyer is, it would be hard to capture a largely female audience by doing anything otherwise.

In the next few paragraphs I am going to attempt to do due justice to my wife by telling her story through my eyes. This union respected by most has a core that is blanketed by the wisdom of this woman that you all have had the pleasure to grow close to by her journals and testimonials of faith and love. It is simple to gauge the persona of Nicole by her powerful and heart piercing posts. I want to briefly take you on a journey now, through my eyes, of what I have seen take place in a woman that is quickly transforming from a best friend to a personal hero.

Summer 2003, smoker chic, rebel, confused, taglines that would best describe my future wife Nicole. Same summer just 1,000 miles away in Dallas, TX I am scribbling on a piece of paper during one of my classes, "Top 10 Qualities I want in a Woman". While I can't remember everything I listed on that paper I can promise you that smoker, parent-defying, just turned 18, center of the world girl were not on the list. I was looking for a promise, a promise I felt was gift wrapped in servitude and topped with conservative attire. Yeah, not Nicole!

When I came back to Arizona on leave from school I must have left the list in my dorm room. Because the moment I met Nicole none of that mattered anymore. Now a few of you right now are, I am sure, shaking your heads thinking you should never compromise on what God puts in your heart. I can be 100% honest with you when I say there was no compromise. My objectives were vain, selfish, and shallow. God's plan was deep, perfect and frankly mind-blowing. There is no greater feeling for a man than to know that he is needed. To be a help mate. Looking at Nicole through divine eyes yielded a woman whose likeness was that of a clam holding on to a pearl. The pearl is what you see now! What I have had the pleasure to experience over the past 7 years see develop. Sorry I am getting ahead of myself... Friends, parents, everyone, all could not see what I was able to already understand. They saw a promise that had already run it's course and was beginning to cir cum to the wants of this world. They had blinders on.

For two weeks after our first encounter, I could not get her out of my head. Guys, you understand that feeling. And girls I can only hope you do as well. It is the single most compelling memory I have in the roots of our relationship. I literally could not focus, I couldn't sleep. What had happened to me? I dated several girls in Texas all groomed to be pastor's wives, my wives. She was now my purpose in life, she was created by God to fulfill so much more in both of our lives than I have yet to imagine.

Sever years later I now find myself treading water to stay afloat. With Nicole being my life preserver, I try to keep my eyes above the water line to see what she will conquer next. In a few months time she has exposed herself, and using the transparency of her journals she has captivated your hearts like she has done mine. To know what is in her heart has been an endless pursuit of mine, and I keep striving for the day where I will arrive. Her heart was never mine, but always his (Christ's), and that is why our love will never be quenched, never tire. Baby thank you for being my best friend, my lover, and my hero!

Numero Uno

First post, first post, first post...

What to write about, right? You all have felt it. The pressure of the first post, knowing that my one follower may disfollow me due to lack of creativity or the snooze factor. No, not this post! I am here to rock your world... Nicole.

14 years old, Brimhall Junior High in Mesa, AZ, playing flag football during P.E. a classmate, attempting to pull my flag, instead ripped my gym shirt rendoring it unusable. Flash forward 4 hours... me standing in front of my dad's dresser knowing a stack of $20 bills would be glaring me in the face. The years prior to this showdown were riddled with theivary. On occassion I would frequent the golf club parking lot in search for "chromies", metallic valve stem caps on luxury vehicles. I spent over a thousand dollars on useless baseball cards, the real story is that I stole another $300 dollars worth easily. But here I was a fourteen year old boy who was terrified of the thought of stealing even a dime from my father. So why? It was a gym t-shirt, my dad would understand. $14 dollars at the bookstore to replace it and the suspense / terror would be over. As you can imagine I slid my hand in the dresser and took a fresh $20 bill and never looked back.

Flash foward again now at the age of 28. Looming medical / dental bills, house payment, car insurance, etc. and the struggle lives on. Sure I learned my lesson at 14 when for 3 days straight my father, fully knowing I had stole from him, like clockwork every night before bed would ask me if I had taken the money from the drawer, and I would lie... "no daddy, I would never do that." Finally breaking down I wept, I confessed, I promised never to do it again. For the mostpart I delivered on that promise, staying away from the things that caused me to be a misbent youth.

However, there is one thing that I still have not been able to overcome. The one thing that led to the stealing, the lying, the hurt and pain. The fear of reaching out! Embarassment, guilt, humilty... all things I feared more than commiting the sin itself. I told my dad the day I confessed to stealing the reason, still to this day I am not sure if he took it as an excuse or if he felt I was being honest with him as I felt broken on my bed.

This weekend, once again, I felt that same feeling. Not becuase I stole, but because I felt ashamed to have to reach out to others / friends for help. I had a conversation with a close friend over the weekend that was aware of the mounting financial obligations that hit the fan over the weekend. And he asked me if I needed some help, financially. I told him, "we are good, I have always been able to count on God to provide." He responded with, "maybe God sent me." We both laughed but it was the truth. The lesson in all this is two-fold. I realized that asking for help is asking for love. This was an opportunity for this person to show me love in a way that is richer and true'r than words could ever express. He knew the need without me even telling him of the need in the first place. Now this afternoon sitting here at work, with surgery on the horizon, I can breathe. The burden is lifted and the benevolent man felt love by lending a hand. 2-fold! The clay goes through the fire to form the vase. Without the fire the vase would crack and whither away. But because of the fire the vase is smooth, strong and beautiful. We go through the fire in our lives to become strong, to withstand the falls and the elements. God is our potter, we are the clay! I am forever in his hands while he is forming me into this beautiful person.