Valentine's Day Table

This post is definitely not my typical blog.  I have many loves and one of them is decorating.  Today I give you a glimpse of my latest obsession, my Valentine's table.  

I've never had Valentine decorations before and when I set out to find the perfect dishes I was surprised to discover how limited my choices would be.  Because of this challenge I have decided to pass along my findings so no one else has to suffer and search in vain.  

Luckily some of my Christmas dishes were able to pull double duty and assist in my quest.  The beaded chargers, Scarlett Dinner Plates, red Diamond Etched Goblets, and Apple Red Hemstitch Napkins were all purchased at Pier 1 for my Christmas table.  I added the Red Gingham Napkins, also from Pier 1 Imports, to compliment my Valentines theme.  The zebra and black ribbon used to tie the napkins was an after Christmas steal at 90% off from Hobby Lobby!  The red table runner was on clearance at Crate&Barrel and the darling heart shaped salad plates are a result of several trips to my beloved Hobby Lobby with my faithful 40% off coupons close at hand.  

Last but certainly not least is the centerpiece.  The GRAND BRASSERIE CAST ALUMINUM TRAY was a gift from my mother purchased at Restoration Hardware.  This was also part of my Christmas table but converted nicely for Valentine's Day.  The candles, rose petals, and red glitter hearts are from Hobby Lobby and the wicker hearts are from Pier 1 Imports.  If you are in search of the perfect Valentine's decor I wish you luck and would be happy to answer any questions you may have.  I pray your home is filled with love!

O Brother

Here I go again.  Starting something that I’m not sure I can finish.  Over the past 5 months I’ve started lots of blogs.  Some went further than others but none of them ever made it to you.  It’s not that I didn’t want to write, I just couldn’t.... not after Sunday, August the 12th.  

Receiving the call that my brother was in the hospital and not expected to survive was beyond heart wrenching.  A rush of emotions swept violently over every single part of my being.  As the gravity of what was happening slowly sunk in, my human body was unable to comprehend the depth of my agony and I began to shake involuntarily.  I sat trembling and broken.  This couldn’t be happening.  The prognosis was grim and I was panicking.  Not now.  Not my brother. 

As I looked back on my life, some of the most significant and life-changing moments included my brother, Darin.  When I was 4, it was Darin who helped me conquer my fear of jumping off the diving board.  When I was in elementary school, watching my older brother perform in his high school play, birthed a love for drama that stays with me even now.  When I was in middle school, reading his incredible poetry gave me the courage to pour my own thoughts onto paper.  When I was in high school, listening to my brother’s advice about boys and dating saved me from unimaginable heartache.  Thanks to him, I didn’t fall for the one liners, I wasn’t wooed by the “players”, and I couldn’t be manipulated by the manipulators.  All of my brothers taught me to respect myself and to carry myself with confidence.  They told me how attractive it was to have good posture and how unattractive it was to say bad words.  (Many of these lessons were not taught by example,  but rather the ‘do as I say, not as I do’ approach, but hey... it worked!) 

After high school it was my brothers who gave their lives back to God and challenged me to do the same.  They encouraged me to attend Master’s Commission and pursue the ministry.  A few years later when I had broken up with my boyfriend Todd, determined never to take him back, it was Darin that cautioned me to keep my heart open. “You’ll probably end up marrying him”, he said.  After I got engaged, it was Darin who catered my bridal showers and eventually my wedding.  A few months after my wedding, it was Darin who decided it was important for me to have a relationship with the birth father I never knew.  He organized the reunion between us and was instrumental in the relationship that developed between a father and a daughter.  6 months later when our father suddenly passed away, I realized what a beautiful gift I had been given.  

I could literally go on and on.  Darin and I were in Master’s Commission together, we got married within a few months of each other, we had our babies at the same time, we bought houses on the same street and we used to minister and travel together.  When I look in the mirror, I see him.... with hair.  In many ways we are the same.  I can’t look back at my life without snapshots of Darin popping up around every corner.  I can’t imagine where I would be without him.  The funny stories, his funny faces, the way he could make me laugh until I cried.... all gifts.  I can’t count the amount of times over the years that I have burst out laughing at the most inappropriate times because some little something sparked into my memory a funny thing that Darin did or said years before.  

So you see why I couldn’t write?  For the past 5 months my family has been on a horrible roller coaster ride.  We have been living in a nightmare, never knowing what each day would bring.  Watching someone you love teeter on the edge of death is exhausting and horrifying.  Even when you are experiencing a high you hesitate to rejoice in it because history has shown that a low is just over the hill.  The doctors and the nurses didn’t expect him to survive.  Everything that could have gone wrong, went wrong.  Multiple organ failure, blood clots, fluid in both lungs, MRSA, C-Diff, his pancreas disappeared for crying out loud! There were days that I didn’t think my brother would live, days that I thought about his funeral, days that I had given up hope..... but God.  The Author of life wasn’t finished with this particular story.  There is absolutely no doubt about it, Darin is a miracle.  A few weeks ago, Darin’s pancreas doctor reconfirmed that there is no pancreas inside of his body but for some reason he is not requiring insulin.  This specialist in his field just shook his head and said, “I have no explanation.  It makes no sense.”  It’s a miracle.  I know it, you know it, Darin knows it. 

In a few weeks, I’ll get to see my brother.  I’ll get to put my arms around him and hold his hands.  I’ll get to tell him how much I love him and how much he means to me.  We’ll probably cry and we’ll definitely laugh.  He’s alive and I’m thankful.  I’m not finished with my brother just yet. 

In An Instant...

It's been nearly 7 hours and I still can't stop my heart from racing. Just the thought of it brings me to the brink. My head hurts and I imagine it's from the sheer stress of it all. My eyes are puffy from all of the crying and I'm pretty sure they're not done yet.

I was preparing for company when the doorbell rang. The little girl next door came to deliver the news, "Kaja's hurt!" The news itself didn't surprise me. As the mother of 4 active children, this message has been brought to our house before. Usually the injured Matchett had scraped a knee or caught a football with their face, but something told me this was different. I wasn't surprised by the messenger's words, but I was surprised by her demeanor. Terror and panic were splashed across her face, tears welled up in her big brown eyes, and every part of her little 2nd grade body was trembling with fear. I dropped everything and ran outside to find my daughter.

My husband and his friend Josh had been in the garage working when they heard the news. They arrived on the scene before me and it's a good thing, I don't think I could have handled it otherwise. Our house and our next door neighbor's house are built on top of a hill. We have the pleasure of overlooking a spectacular wooded ravine. Only a small portion of our backyards are landscaped before plunging straight down to a steep and treacherous drop that is peppered with trees. Kaja just learned how to ride a bike last week. She was riding in our neighbors driveway when she lost control and found herself flying towards the ravine. Every attempt to hit the brakes was in vain as the bike just picked up speed and plummeted over the cliff taking my baby girl through a dense maze of trees before throwing her violently to the bottom.

As I ran towards the scene I could see our neighbor looking over the edge. It was too steep for him to walk down. Todd and Josh had managed to make their way down an easier path and were at the bottom scooping up Kaja and her broken bicycle. I could hear my baby screaming and crying and I knew in that instant that God had had mercy on me. As I looked over that edge and I saw all of the trees that she had to avoid on her horrific drop to the bottom, I knew that it was nothing short of a miracle. She was covered in dirt, scraped and bruised beyond belief, and she may have a sprain or two... BUT she is alive!

As I gently washed the dirt and debris from my little girl's beaten body I wept. I've never seen anything like it in my nearly 14 years of parenting. As bad as it was though it could have been so much worse. She could have died. In an instant I was reminded of what's really important in this life. Just 24 hours earlier as we settled down to watch some television after our evening meal, Kaja snuggled up next to me in my chair. I was feeling a little crowded and I tried to encourage her to find another spot. It was the end of a long day and I felt like I deserved some space. Tonight, the last thing I wanted from my Kaja was space.

Tonight I was reminded that my children are among the most valuable and precious gifts I have ever been given and I don't know how long I'll get to keep them for. Tonight, God protected my baby. He saved her life. I can never repay Him and I can never thank Him enough. I can only fall to my knees and praise Him, for He is holy.

Plane & Simple

Today I write to you from a steel tube that is hurling through the open sky at an alarming rate of speed. I’m surrounded by complete strangers who for the most part are keeping to themselves. There is one empty seat that separates me from the other man in my row. I’m sure he is thankful for the buffer since I just experienced a disgusting, out of control coughing attack that left me with tears streaming down my face, robbing me of all of my makeup, my kleenex, and my dignity. Across the aisle sits my husband. The man I’ve been married to for nearly 16 years is playing it cool, pretending not to know me. I can’t really blame him. I’m certain I would do the same thing if the situation were reversed.

The seatbelt sign is illuminated. The sky looks clear to me but something is causing this big jet to jump. I really don’t like to fly. You would think I would be used to it, being the daughter of a pilot and all. I’m certainly no stranger to the sky. I’ve been on hundreds of planes in my lifetime. I’ve traveled all over the world but at the end of the day, I would rather be on the ground.

I think becoming a mom took the daredevil right out of me. It made me look at everything differently. Things I did without thinking twice about before having kids, like skiing and parasailing are suddenly not my idea of a good time. I am more aware of the risks and the dangers. I now have a reason to live and I don’t want anything to jeopardize it.

It’s probably for similar reasons that I don’t like to fly. It just doesn’t seem like a smart thing to do. But there is one thing that redeems flying in an airplane for me. One thing that makes it all worthwhile. One person actually... my dad. Flying was his life and it makes me feel closer to him. My dad passed away six years ago and I miss him. He was a lieutenant colonel in the Air Force before becoming a captain for TWA. He was masterfully skilled and highly respected. When we were on an airplane, we were on his turf. He felt more confident and more comfortable behind the controls of a plane than he ever did behind the wheel of a car. Probably because he understood it.

When I look out of my little oval window at the giant wing and see the flaps popping up and down, when I hear the loud clunks, or feel the sudden shifts in motion, I fear for my life and I assume the worst. But when I was with my dad, and similar things would happen, he didn’t bat an eye because he understood how it all worked. He knew exactly where each sound came from. He knew the reasons behind the shifts in motion. My dad wasn’t a tough man. He wasn’t particularly strong but when he accompanied me on a plane, I felt safe.

So today I have been given a gift. I took a journey back in time. I was a little girl once again, walking through the busy airport with my dad, the captain. I beamed inside as I noticed the passengers pointing at my father as if they were seeing a celebrity. I boarded the plane and remembered the days when my dad was by my side. I remember how it felt to be on his turf. I am reminded that even when things seem scary or out of control to me, my Father has everything under control. He knows how it all works and when He’s with me, I’m safe.

Dear Cool Girl

Hi Charlotte,

You may not remember me but I attended school with you in elementary, middle, and high school. We didn't hang out much but I have never forgotten you and here is the reason why:

I started Pueblo Elementary in the 4th grade and I found it very difficult to fit in. There was a definite crowd of "cool girls" and it was hard to join them so late in the game. In my mind you were the coolest of those cool girls. You were so beautiful and so popular. You were, without a doubt, the "it" girl of Pueblo Elementary (I'm getting to my point, I promise!). Every school that has an "IN CROWD" also has an "OUT CROWD". Those poor kids that are ruthlessly picked apart just for being different. The 2 boys at the very bottom of the Pueblo totem pole were brothers. I only remember the name of the oldest boy, Logan, and I can't remember their last name. What I do remember is the daily torture those poor boys endured. They were teased, taunted, and picked apart every single day. Ridiculed for wearing clothes that weren't cool, made fun of for their hair, hygiene, the way they spoke, sat, walked... you name it, they were picked on for it.

I sat by and watched this happen every single day for months. I'm ashamed to say, that I never had the courage to stand up for those boys. I sat silently and watched and out of my own insecurities, I even agreed with some of the cruel comments from time to time.

One day as the 2 boys were waiting for the school bus to take them home from school, they once again found themselves under fire. I once again sat by silently. But you, Charlotte Baxter, the prettiest and the most popular girl in school made a stand. You stood up for Logan and his little brother. You told those bullies to stop. You told them how cool you thought the 2 boys were and how stupid they all were for picking on them. Everyone was stunned into silence.

Through the years I have thought about that moment in time over and over again. When I became a mom, I decided that one of the things I wanted to instill into my own children was the confidence of a little girl named Charlotte. A little girl who wasn't afraid to stand up for the underdog. Who put herself at great social risk, to do the right thing. I really wished that I had the courage to do the same.

As I browsed through some of the high school reunion photos, I saw your picture and was once again reminded.

Sometimes we can go through life, inspiring others, and not even know it. Over these past few days, I've felt like you needed to know what a difference you have made. Not only to me, and to my children, but to Logan and his little brother. I have prayed for those boys over the years. I have no idea what ever became of them, but I pray their lives are good and I pray yours is too.

May God bless you every single day,

Renee "Hufford" Matchett

*Note: The names have been changed in the above letter in order to protect the privacy of those mentioned.

Choo Choo's & Blankey's

Tonight I turned over the reigns of the family video camera to my son Kade. Something had to be done. It was obvious that I was dropping the ball. Me of all people!

I am the youngest child in my family, the baby, with 5 older siblings. I must confess, I've been a teensy bit bitter over the years, ever so slightly perturbed with my mother. It wouldn't take you long to figure out why. Just pop over for a visit and casually ask my mom if you can browse through our family photo albums. You'll see page after page and album after album filled with black and white photos of my brothers Kevin, Darin, and Brian. Every single Christmas, Birthday, Easter, new outfit, first steps, first bike, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, all of it carefully and meticulously documented. And then.... in the very last album, on the very last page... a few measly little token shots of yours truly! After you're done looking at the albums, ask mom if you can take a quick peek at our family videos. You'll see some familiar faces. That's right, Kevin, Darin, and Brian in action once again! Only this time I'm afraid you won't even catch a quick glimpse of their baby sister because apparently the video camera broke on the day she was born! In fact, if it wasn't for that last page in that last photo album, we'd have a hard time proving that I ever even existed. No baby book, no outfits, no trinkets, nothing. I never understood it... until now.

Kenzington turned 1 on July 18th. She is my 4th and final child. Although I have worked hard to document her life with photographs, I realized today that I have about 10 minutes of her 13 months recorded on video. Not only that, but I haven't written one thing down in her baby book, nothing in her journal, and I didn't even throw her a birthday party. Instead I strapped her in a car seat for 18 hours and dragged her across the country. I'm an animal!

So Kade HAD to take over. Clearly I couldn't be trusted. I had become my mother. The one thing I swore I would never do, I had done!

I'm not really sure when or how it happened. Life takes over and time just starts flying by. It doesn't make any sense to me that the child I gave birth to last week just had her first birthday. And the boy that I held in my arms for the first time last summer, just turned 13. I really can't even think about it for too long without crying. Childhood is such a precious gift but I'm afraid it doesn't last. These past few months that has become painfully clear to me. As I've prepared my house for our eventual move, I have come across some little treasures that have brought me to tears. Choo choo trains that had been clutched in the hands of my tiny little boy for what seemed like years, beaten and battered by his constant love and attention... now discarded in a storage box. A blankey that a certain little girl couldn't live without, frayed and worn from night after night of cuddling and comforting, now folded on a shelf, no longer needed. Toy trucks replaced with video games and baby dolls replaced with iPods.

Sometimes I get caught up in the stress of being a grown up. I get so busy with stuff that I miss out on what really matters... on who really matters. Life goes by quickly. Savor every moment, schedule some cuddle time and enjoy every stage. Grab the video camera. Make some memories and don't forget to laugh! Because in an instant your little kindergardener is in college and you never even saw it coming.

Unsolved Mysteries

I love to watch Dateline and 48 Hours. Not just any episodes, the real life mystery episodes! They will take a crazy case and follow it for years. It's amazing to watch it unfold from beginning to end. I love a good mystery with lots of twists and turns, the kind that keep you guessing and surprise you in the end. I could watch them every night of the week and never get bored.

I did have to force myself to cut back though. I found myself behaving differently. Not like a mom or a pastor's wife... more like a detective or a CSI agent. I was suddenly suspicious of everyone. If the guy who was bagging my groceries asked if I needed help to my car, I was sure he was planning on throwing me in the trunk and kidnapping me. If I heard a loud noise outside late at night, I would take a mental note of the date and time, just in case a crime had taken place and the police needed me to testify. I think I would have made a really good witness but fortunately no crime was ever committed. It was all in my mind. It eventually became too much, and I had to stop myself. The first thing to go? Dateline and 48 Hours. It wasn't easy, but it was the right thing to do.... for everyone else's sake.

The one type of show that I was never tempted to watch was Dateline or 48 Hours 'Unsolved Mysteries'. I learned the hard way. I invested an entire hour or maybe even two into a case that no one ever figured out. When it was over I would find myself screaming at the TV,

"That's it? It's over? Who did it? WHO DID IT????!!!!"

I hate unfinished business.... half told stories.... sad endings or worse.... no endings at all. That's why I almost didn't write this blog. I've been thinking about writing it for weeks but I was waiting for my ending. Well guess what... I'm still waiting.

Have you ever asked God for something... believing that He was able to do it... and that He would want to do it... but then He didn't do it? Have you ever gotten your hopes up so many times only to have them dashed over and over again? If you answered yes to those two questions, then you probably also know what it's like to be on an emotional roller coaster ride that never seems to end. The highs and the lows that leave you feeling sick. I know. I've been there. In fact, I think I accidentally bought a season pass.

Allowing your circumstances to dictate your emotions is an easy rut to fall into but it's no way to live. 1 Peter 5:7 tells us to cast all of our anxiety on Him because He cares for us. So how come that's so much easier said than done? In my case it should have said, "Cast and re-cast all of your anxiety on Him over and over and over again because He cares for us." Just when I think I've finally given my situation over to God and cast those cares away, something happens and those "cares" are right back with me again and the anxiety leaps right back into the pit of my tummy. Another roller coaster ride that I didn't want to get on.

Here's what I'm finding.... Because the disappointment of the "low's" is often so devastating and discouraging, I try to avoid them like the plague. In my mind I think that the only way to protect myself from the "low's" is to avoid the "high's". It makes sense right? Don't they say, "What goes up.... must come down"? I have caught myself, on more than one occasion, saying things like, "I don't want to get my hopes up." Have you ever said that? It's a defense mechanism. If you get your hopes up, then you might get disappointed... so just stop hoping.

The problem is faith and hope are intertwined. So if you stop hoping, you also stop believing. If you lose your hope, you lose your faith. According to Hebrews 11 Faith is the confidence that what we hope for will actually happen. So the challenge is to keep hope alive. Don't allow your circumstances to control you. Keep on believing 'that thing' is going to happen. If it doesn't happen when or how you hoped it would, it doesn't mean it's not going to happen at all. If you get your hopes up for the millionth time and things don't work out? Just start looking forward to the million and oneth (totally not a real word but you get the point).

I told you I didn't have my ending yet. I didn't want to write about the ups and downs without being able to encourage you with the end result but then I realized.... you might be encouraged just to know you're not alone. There's someone else out there on the same journey as you. Trying to keep the faith. Trying not to let their circumstances control them. Trying not to give up. Someone who hasn't arrived yet but who will continue hoping... against all hope. Knowing that eventually her case will be solved and yours will too.