The Contest

It was 1991.
We had been married almost ten years at the time.
We had three children under the age of six.

I saw something in the local newspaper that caught my eye.
It was a writing contest.
Not just any writing contest, it was Our Romantic Evening writing contest.

I was intrigued.
The prize was an overnight stay at an historic inn nearby.
Also included were dinner, flowers, and a horse-drawn carriage ride around the grounds.

Should I even attempt to write an entry?
I sat one night after the children went to bed and wrote.
In the days of pen and paper, I discarded many options that just didn’t seem right.

I tried to adjust my writing to what I thought the judges would want to read.
I had no peace about anything I wrote.
I had no peace because none of what I was writing was true.

When was the last time we had a candlelight dinner?
Probably the last time the power went out in a storm.

When was the last time we visited all of our memorable spots?
Probably when we went to the park with the castles so the children could play.

When was the last time I bought a new outfit?
Probably out of necessity when my dress had gotten spit up on, too many times.

When was the last time I carried a little purse?
Probably when…oh, those days were long gone.

I actually remember taking a mental inventory of what was in my purse.
Besides my wallet and keys, I had baby wipes, a Sippy-cup, Band-Aids, and lipstick.
I had a broken crayon, and a lollipop with the purse lint still stuck to the paper.

A little purse was reminiscent of my single days.
It was not the purse of motherhood.
Everything but the kitchen sink is in a mother’s purse.

How could I write about a romantic evening?
It had been a long time since we had one of those.
I was ready to give up and throw the entry form away when I found myself writing again.

Get ready. Pamper ourselves, uninterrupted.
Arrive at romantic restaurant without diaper bags.
Share conversation without staccato break-ins of “Mom!” “Dad!”
Enjoy our meal without any major spills.
Go to bed relaxed, knowing we just had a wonderful date.
Hold each other through the night and reaffirm how blessed we really are.
Wake up sad that the night came to an end, but ready to be mom and dad again after a needed night of just us.

I typed it up on our old typewriter and submitted it.

About two weeks later I received a letter in the mail.
I had won the contest.
My husband and I would be heading off to a romantic evening at the historic inn.

I came across the newspaper article that I had saved about the contest.
The article included samples of some other entries as well.
Many of them sounded like the ones I tried to write, but were untrue for us.

I laughed at the newspaper’s comments on their “winner.”

Mrs. Gallagher’s story was the most heartfelt – clear and concise, displaying her sense of humor, and most importantly, love.

Most importantly, love.
That line says it all.

It was just before the Passover feast. Jesus knew that the time had come for Him to leave this world and go to the Father. Having loved His own who were in the world, He now showed them the full extent of His love. The evening meal was being served, and the devil had already prompted Judas Iscariot, son of Simon, to betray Jesus. Jesus knew that the Father had put all things under His power, and that He had come from God and was returning to God; so He got up from the meal, took off His outer clothing, and wrapped a towel around His waist. After that He poured water into a basin and began to wash His disciple’s feet, drying them with the towel that was wrapped around Him. (John 13:1-5)

The full extent of Jesus’ love was washing His disciples’ feet.
The full extent of Jesus’ love was serving.
The newspaper could not have given me a better compliment.

It is love that trades in the small clutch for the large purse.
It is love that washes the food and the spit-up off the dress and wears it again.
It is love that forgoes the memorable spots for the spots that make memories.

The greatest of these is love. (1 Corinthians 13:13)
Love is the most excellent way. (1 Corinthians 12:31)

I could have written flowery words that said what our lives were not.
The reality is that we are parents.
Even though we must chisel out time for the two of us, often the “many” of us prevails.

That is perfectly fine.
Parenting is the ultimate one-anothering.
Loving with a towel around your waist, washing feet.