Dear Ruthie

I met you almost exactly two years ago.

We were going to a concert that our sister church in Bloomington apparently put on every year. We, not including you. Unaware that we were missing anything, we didn't know you existed.

None of us knew you except for Jonny. We heard he was bringing his friend from college to the concert. When I discovered that his friend wasn't a guy, I was surprised. Naturally we assumed you were interested in each other, unaware of the Bloomington connection.

There was much confusion about rides, which I shall not attempt to recall or describe. Suffice it to say, though I hadn't planned on going, I wanted to and I was told there was room...and we discovered when we got there that there was not. As we confirmed this year, we all know that something will be confusing and complicated, or it's just not right. Ironically, my gentlemanly brother let me go, briefly met you in the church office parking lot, and left.

So, suddenly you were on a long drive with six people, knowing only one. We didn't know you hardly even knew Jonny.

I wondered what you thought of us. We were very comfortable together, and acted no differently with this friend of Jonny's. That was all we knew, really, though perhaps we knew you were in engineering. And I found your name fascinating--I wonder if we talked about it. We wanted to name the twins we always wanted Mom to have Ruth and Naomi, and I always liked the name Ruth. But now, it sounds kind of incomplete, and I prefer Ruthie. I wonder if you told us your name was Ruthanne, or if I just wondered if Ruthie or Ruth was your real name.

I don't really remember telling you about Ryan and Grace's wedding, but since Mercy and I were both there and at that time it was never too far from my mind, it doesn't surprise me that we did. You must have told us that you were going to do a co-op in Bloomington and that was why Jonny invited you, so you had connection to a church.

I can picture a place along the highway where we were having a conversation. I know Rebekah and I were talking with you, but I cannot remember what exactly it was about. I think you might have told us about one of the many places you've visited or that your sister lived in Japan. It's interesting to think that these vague things I scarcely remember were probably about your mission trips to China and Romania, living in the Dominican, your family's travels, your tree story, and so forth. I don't remember much. Though I liked this friendly, quiet girl (as I think I had thought), I didn't expect to see her again.

The most vivid memory I have of you on that trip was on the way back. You had volunteered to sit in the front (somehow discerning that I didn't want to, already able to read me well). They had been joking and warning you about how Rebekah and Jonny's brother Ben drove slowly, never above the speed limit. When we stopped for gas, after Ben shut the door, you turned around, with that wide-eyed, very expressive look that I love, and said, "He does drive slowly!" And of course, as always, nothing that you say can be properly written down, for the words cannot relay your indescribably wonderful voice. At that point, I picture you as I know you now. Other than that, I cannot quite see you as yourself.

I saw you once again soon after that. You visited college group at Nick and Heidi's apartment once. I remember which wall you sat against and that Joy was there that night too. Other than that, I remember more about sitting on the couch by Ryan and Grace and joking about Gerald with them than anything about you that night.

I met you again one year ago. After discovering the Bloomington concert, we went back. As we sat in the pews, I recognized someone in the choir. "There's Ruthie!" I told Rebekah, pointing you out.

Afterwards, we talked to you. You were surprised to see us, I think, and that I remembered you, and I think I may have gotten my first Ruthie hug. I remember you saying that you were coming back in January and that you would come to our church.

After the rest of a stuffed-full, delightful December and a bit of January, I had forgotten that you might come until one Sunday I saw you. "Ruthie's here!" I said to whoever was beside me--Melody, perhaps. "Who's Ruthie?" she asked. "She went to the concert with us last year. I forgot she said she was coming here." I believe I went over and said hi to you.

I don't remember much of the beginning of that year. I remember when you were going to be in the Student Union at UT doing some sort of presentation, so I decided to go see if you were there. I think I may have startled you. Eric had just filled out a form and got a water bottle. You started telling me that your time was about done, but I could talk to this other guy--but I said good, I wasn't really interested in computers but in talking with you.

Then I walked out to the car with you. I don't remember a lot of what we discussed, but I remember pretty clearly where we walked and thinking that I really liked this Ruthie. We went past this fence and into this parking lot in an area I did not know on the side of campus closest to Engineering--now a quite familiar area.

We discussed school, and I think that I told you then why I had decided to go to school, and for the first time perhaps I went away smiling because of your encouragement. And also for perhaps the first time I noted your sweet gray-green Explorer. I like your car. The color is cool, and it always makes me excited when I recognize people's vehicles. Mostly, though, I get excited when I see it because I expect to see you.

Even though I don't remember much before then, I considered you a good friend by the time you agreed to come to our women's summer Bible study. That was about the time you decided to stay in the apartment at the Armentrouts'. Both of those things made me happy. I found it amusing when you and Mrs. Armentrout both appeared at Bible study unbeknownst to the other. "I could have told you that," I said.

Probably the reason I don't remember becoming friends with you is that, as you have sometimes kind of complained (or as close to complaining as you get), you just fit in so well so quickly, that everyone assumes you know things you haven't been told. Because we just can't--or don't want to--imagine life without Ruthie. That's the worst. 

Then there was Backyard Bible club--two of them, actually. You added so much fun to BYBC, and there you got more taste of the craziness that is the Beerbower family, the "vortex that once you're sucked in you cannot escape from," as Uncle Al said.

Although that might have been more at the Exaltation concert in May, where you said you fell in love with my family. I loved how you fit in so well, how you appreciate my parents, how Mom (and later Aunt T) makes you die laughing, how the kids love you. Although, "everyone loves Ruthie."

As you would say, True, that. No, but really.

Your calm, peace-loving and always sweet disposition is the perfect complement to our family's exuberant, dry-humored and always sarcastic nature. As is your realistic discipline to our free-spirited, that-sounds-fun impulsive tendencies, and your unbending calm confidence that won't stoop to indulge our love of a good argument and the way we "state [our] opinions as commonly accepted fact."

I delight in your adorable voice and your way of speaking. I often remember once when you said, "Jeannettie, you're coming with!" I know that's silly, but you were happy I was coming and your voice and way of speaking are so delightful. Plus I especially enjoy how you say my name. And it makes me happy that you always call me Jeannettie, as only a few certain people who really love me do.

I love the goofy, eyebrow-raising, wide-eyed face you put on for my pictures. (The first time I noticed that at the camping trip, I thought, That just happened! Okay, maybe that was before I used that phrase...)Your height, perfect for giving real hugs, makes me happy. You don't know how much I appreciate your company, your interest in me, your indulgence when I want to verbally organize my thoughts, and your reliably practical and calm responses to my idealistic, flighty ramblings.

There are some people that when you think of them, you must simply marvel at God's graciousness to you that He put them in your life. You're one of them. Thinking of how God has worked in your life and connected it with ours, I can't help but rejoice. (I hope you do too, because you know we're never going to let you get away from us. :-)

As you would say, You're the best thing ever.

Truth.

I am so glad God blessed the world with you, Ruthie. Happy birthday. You're the best.

I love you, Ruthanne.

True story.


*Words in italics are copyrighted by the Ruthie-Jeannette phrase-stealing club and should be read in Ruthie's voice.

Visions of A Girl

Today (well, granted today is gone), my little sister turned six years old. Six years. Six years ago I didn't realize how little we were. I remember so distinctly some of those days-Mom reading I Heard, Said the Bird (though Deanna and I knew already), telling people Mom was pregnant, sitting on Mom and Dad's bed talking about names, the day before and the day she was born, tearing ourselves away from her to go to Friday Night and the Hoedown.

Yet it's hard to really remember those times. Could this goofy girl really be that tiny, red little baby?

Looking through pictures for my class today (more about that soon!), I saw some adorable pictures of her at about two years old. I forgot she was so chubby! Seeing them, I remembered how she used to talk so funny. Now she says the most amusing, crazy things.

In honor of her birthday, I share a poem I wrote for my Creative Writing class. It's among my three favorite classes, in so far as the work I have to do. We had to write an ode or a list poem. I wasn't inspired at first, but then I thought of this and went with it. I am pretty happy with how it turned out, mostly.

Ode to My Sister

That plump little face dotted with red,
Edged with a double-chin.
Those crooked feet like a crescent moon,
Toes spread out like a fan.
That goofy one-sided smile
Caught through a point-and-shoot lens.
Those dark, damp rickrack locks
On the spongy blue back of a baby bath.
That math lesson brightened
By the steady breathing against my chest
Of a baby's body, lifted from a blue bassinet.
That delicious baby smell,
That delightful cry that nobody minds—
Memories drowned with seeing

A round, ruddy face crowned with curls,
Graced with a pretty smile.
A pair of feet toddling about
Or mounting to the upstairs hall.
A ponytail fountain with bangs grown out,
Cut short by chubby hands.
A first time washed in a big-girl bath,
All seen through my Canon lens.
A reaching of baby arms
To be picked up from the blue pack'n'play.
Siblings vying for her attention,
A partiality towards her brother's friends.
That adorable baby chatter
That annoying cry nobody wants to hear—
Images forgotten at the sight of

Questioning blue eyes set in a face
Alternating from smiling to furrowed brow.
The slender form in a bright swimsuit,
Feet encased in winter boots.
The girl with mangled mess of unbrushed hair
Taking a shower alone. The constant begging that whatever she’s done
Be captured with my Canon lens.
The pondering of birthday parties
And nights at Hannah's house.
The comfort of putting her arms around me
Preferred to the excitement of a blue toddler's bed.
The crazy, constant questions,
The whining that everyone minds.
Sights soon to be lost in an older girl's face
That’s always adding years,
Each as precious as before,
Yet different,
The changing visions of a girl.

-Jeannette Beerbower
September 2013

Well, someone promised me that she would sleep with me after her birthday ("Is that really exciting?"), so I shall join her.

Another Surprise Party

You might think we'd get tired of it after a while.

I mean, how many have we done?

The planning is confusing.

 We spend days or weeks or months, even, trying to coordinate schedules-without being found out.

Everything could be done more simply.

And yet, we continue to pursue the unexpected.

We take the more difficult route.

We guess and connive.

We run with excitement.

We gesticulate and discuss and argue and wonder.

We hope we haven't messed anything up.

We wait...

and wait...

and hide...

and at last, we cry out, "Now!" and with beating heart, jump out.

And all this for that one moment.

All for a few seconds of excitement.

All for the look of surprise on a friend's face.

All for the fun that lasts a few minutes, just to amuse ourselves.

Why?

For the memories.

For that look,

that flattered, happy face,

for the cry, "Well, that was a surprise,"

that makes everything worth it.

Yes, we did another surprise birthday party. We hid in the cornfields by the Cornwells' (yeah, I'm amused by that juxtaposition) and waited for Parker to come home with his father. Then we jumped out, and, naturally, the boys jumped him.

And we sang one of the most beautiful happy birthdays I've ever heard. There was one at youth group I remember that was absolutely horrific, but no other one comes to mind that was notably worse.

Isaac valiantly attempted to rescue his brother. (Yes, he was still pinned to the ground while we sang happy birthday.)

This was one of the most successful surprise birthday parties we have done. Parker said, "When I saw people running, I thought, 'Oh, my family is coming out.' Then I realized that was way too many people to be my family."

 On a scale of one to ten? "I've never been more surprised."

Oh, yeah. Success!

Parker with his sister Abby, the mastermind behind the party.

The party continued with lots of fun at the Cornwells' hospitable household, beginning with a tour of their beautiful, peaceful house.

 There was a bit of volleyball in the rain, and exploring of their reading room.

Including a discussion of what tolle lege means, which no one seemed to remember.

(It appropriately means take up and read.)

Eric and Nick excitedly discovered world peace.

Some of us enjoyed perusing what books they had.

With pizza and other yummy munchies, a game of four-on-a-couch (which almost ended a number of times with either side winning and finally was drawn, two-and-two on a couch), another lovely singing of happy birthday, some ice cream sandwich cake (Parker successfully blew out his one candle), and a final few games of Mafia, we bade them goodnight and Parker happy birthday and concluded the day an all-around success.

It's worth it, every time.

Definitely

If you don't know this lady, let me introduce you.

This is Ashley.



No, not the girl on the left. That's me. The other one.

Today is her birthday.

(By the way, my dear, we need to get a new picture together. This is the most recent I could find.)

Ashley is definitely someone you should know. She is not definately someone you should know. She is not definately anything. Just ask her. Ask her if she wants to write definately again. Contrary to former belief (yes, I admit it, including, nay, especially mine), no one is definately anything.

(Side note: I love this definition of definately: Idiot-speak for "definitely". One of the most common moronic misspellings found on the internet.)

But Ashley is definitively, definitely definately. As in, she is definately:

D ear
E arnest
F riendly
I ntelligent
N ice
A musing
T houghtful
E mpathetic
L ovely
Y oung at heart

She is definately Ashley.

Let me explain.

Dear, because she is a beloved friend.

Earnest, for she is all into whatever she does.

Friendly is certainly what she is. The second word I considered doing for f is forgetful, but since it is her birthday, we won't discuss that right now.

Intelligent, not primarily with obvious wisdom or much knowledge, though she has lots of book knowledge, but with godly wisdom gained over years of seeking to know the Lord.

Nice. Ashley is nice in the nicest sense of the word. She is simply sweet and thoroughly thoughtful.

Amusing. Yes, Ashley is amusing. This goes back in part to that thing we weren't going to discuss, the word for f. Not friendly, forgetful. Oh, yes, I wasn't going to discuss that. Well, don't worry. Ashley knows, and I love her all the more for her amusing qualities. For example, though her hair may be very dark, she's blonde at heart. Ask her, and she will tell you she cannot win; even if she won't usually admit it to me, she knows it is true. If you need some amusement, trick "ticklish Ash-l-ey" into uncovering her toes.

Thoughtful is definitely Ashley as well. She is a good hostess, anticipates the needs of others, and is very grateful.

Empathetic, for Ashley is compassionate and understanding, ready to do whatever she can to help.

Lovely, for she is smiling and cheerful and not easily provoked.

Young at heart, since she is always ready to try new things. And something else begins with a y, so while you're asking her if she wants to write definately again and how I always beat her, ask about her twin. Yes, Ashley's youthful imagination might surprise you.

Indeed, Ashley is definitely definately Ashley.

I couldn't find any purple Ashley vining daisies, Ashley, so here's a Birthday Bachelor Button to brighten your birthday.

I thank the Lord that you were born, and for the time we have been able to be together-I am so grateful that you were able to stay here for school. I don't know what I will do when you leave. Who will take me everywhere and scrapbook with me and Rebekah? Friday Night and church and...well, anything you're at wouldn't be quite the same without you. I treasure our friendship, and ask that the Lord will continue to bless you abundantly this year and wherever He leads you in your life. Happy birthday, friend!

To a Dear Child

When I was a funny-looking three-year-old with weird eyes and cloth diapers, living on Thad street, you were born. I don't know what you were like, because I didn't know you then.

When I was a sort of awkward eleven-year old with big glasses and dumb-looking bangs, you were a little eight-year-old with a wide smile whom I didn't notice.

When we both grew up a few years, some girl named Rebekah Zellers invited my sister Melody over to swim. I didn't really know who this person was, and, I must admit, we didn't really want to, and were glad when it never worked out. (You didn't know that, did you, dear? I'm sorry. I was mean and stupid then. Praise the Lord He overcomes our natural nature and has grown my love to be more like His since then...) It was natural that you would want to be friends with Melody, for she was only a month older than you.

When I was a generally quiet senior high girl a few years later, and you were were a new junior high girl, when I still spelled Zellers with an a, we knew who each other was and sometimes talked, but I still didn't notice you much. Finally, when I was more like I am now, and you were too, as we went to Friday Night and started scrapbooking together, I began ever so slowly to come to my senses.

When I was twenty and you were sixteen, and when I was convicted by the Holy Spirit and you were a tool He used so strongly, I was finally really conscious of what you had been for years. I was blessed, and you were the blessing.

I am indeed three and half years older than you. But do you know why I put that you were turning sixteen, rather than seventeen? (Aren't you glad I can't sing that to you again?) It was something subconscious, but it wasn't because I think of you as younger than you are, but because I knew you were younger than you seemed to me, and because to me your age doesn't matter; three or four years is nothing, and though I am older, I look up to you. I look up to your leading, to your challenging in our relationship-your desire to grow in love for the Father, your knowledge of His word, and fear of the Lord.

I love your uniqueness, and our friendship. I love your beautiful singing, and that you teach yourself to play the mandolin. I love (and hate) that I can't stop talking to you, no matter how late it is, whether we're together or over Facebook. I love that you're the responsible one who finally makes us go to bed. I miss you if I don't see you a couple times a week, and even then. I enjoy your beautiful pictures, and appreciate that you challenge me in mine. Your never being content with where you are, but always striving to improve challenges me.

Your opinionated ideas on everything from colors to politics to music amuse me. I am amused-and usually benefit-as you freely state them, whether critiquing my writing or pictures or commenting on our kitchen floor or deciding what we should eat. That you pat people younger than you on the head and call them "child", your hilarious laughing fits, your dressing style, you thanking us for "accepting my invitation to your house," your "crush" on Bloomington...I love your idiosyncrasies.

I love how we like the same things in different ways; I love having a friend I can discuss words and characters and f-stops and 5D Mark ii and scrapbooking and musicals with. I love how talented you are in things that I like to do-photography, singing, writing, crafty stuff, colors. I hope that some day I am as good at one of them as you are now. I know I never will be for singing, or for colors and style.

I love that it's never awkward, whatever we say or whenever we say nothing, that you think I'm funny or cute or pretty or whatever silly opinion you have of me and that you love me even though I'm silly (as in foolish) and weird and probably annoy you.

I love how you make me reconsider my ideas by sharing yours. Great minds may not always think alike, but they do build off of each other. I love how you relate simple, mundane things to the Lord, unashamedly.

"As iron sharpens iron, so a man sharpens the countenance of his friend."

I am interested to see what God will do in your life this year, how you will grow in godliness and fear of the Lord, in favor with God and man. I know you will, because He has given you the desire, He is faithful, and I'm praying for you.

I thank God for your friendship, Cutie*, and I love you. Happy 17th birthday.

Love,
Meanie*


*For those of you who are snooping in this private letter-okay, okay, I know I posted it in a publicish forum-that's a joke, in case you were wondering. A true one, but that's what makes it funny.

On May 26, 2012

Deanna.

What do you think of when you read that? How would you describe her?

Quiet? Opinionated? Serious?

I wonder if many would think that.

And to some extent, some of them are true.

But that's not what I would think of first.

Serious? Are you kidding?

Yesterday she asked me if I was going to write her a blog post for her birthday. I hadn't thought of it, but decided to try.

Also yesterday, Deanna was telling stories, making fun of a post I was working on. She had put two stupid-looking pigtails which were uneven in my hair. They weren't twin, she said, so they were a "fraternal situation."

Her explanation of a fraternal twin situation: “Kind of like if you had popcorn on your butt and I had wood cravings. A twin situation would be if we both had wood cravings.”

Of course, she meant wood shavings. She was being so weird that Melody was recording her. When she found out, she said:

“Hello, world. I didn’t get enough sleep last night."

Apparently. Apparently it happens often, for there are many such scenes I could relate. I'm sorry if you don't get it. You must have seen Deanna in such a mood to appreciate it.

In celebration of Deanna's 21st birthday today, I shall list 21 things about her.

21. Some people say Deanna doesn't like a lot of things. This is true, but it isn't so much that she doesn't like things, but that she likes disliking them. This doesn't always make sense to me, but it makes things interesting. Like when she said, regarding the cat that thinks it's ours:

"I don't know why that cat doesn't realize how much I hate it."

20. She likes Michael Buble, Ramine Karimloo, and Michael Ball.

19. She likes dancing. Yes, she was bought the first time, but she has gone contra dancing voluntarily since then.

18. "Neither rain nor hail nor sleet nor snow..." shall keep the mailman from his rounds, or Deanna from her daily trek to the mailbox. Since before we had to have one of us stand at the doorway if Mom was gone while she did it, she has been the one to get the mail. Even if she's not home, we'll sometimes leave it for her to get.

17. We do the three-year-old class, and Deanna is the competent teacher.

16. Deanna is stylish. Sometimes on Sundays, Eric will come out with shirt and tie. "Where's Deanna?" he'll ask. "I want to ask her if this matches. What do you think?"

"Looks fine to me," I say, "but ask Deanna."

Upon sight of it, Deanna gasps in horror. "No! That looks awful. It doesn't match!"

15. She likes euchre, and she's pretty good at it.

14. She loves to swing. Once she swang for three hours straight.

13. She likes to do hair, but...

...she hates to have her hair done.


12. She always thought her initials, DLB, were the coolest initials ever. They're also on about every third lisence plate you see.

10. When we redid the living room, she rolled a section of our wall! We had to get photographic evidence of this. She will be happy I didn't put up a picture that showed her pajama pants.

9. She loves to go on walks.

8. She loves musicals, and she wants the soundtrack to every one we go to.



 7. She likes lotions, and they have to smell good.

6. Deanna's purpose in life is to keep us amused. She does this pretty well.

5. She will not be happy with me for posting some of this.

4. On her 18th birthday, we stayed up until her birth, which is at 1:48. We did it again this year.

3. She has a wonderful sister who made her a cake. Her cake is not beautiful, but...

2. She likes lemon things, and it is completely lemon, so it's all good.

1. I must say, I have the best older sister in the world! What would life be without her to spice things up? Happy birthday, Deanna. (You can go drink now!) I love you.