Holiday Traditions

For the fifth year in a row, Northwestern Bookstores invited us to Minnesota to do some holiday book-signing events for them. This year they hosted us in three different stores over a brisk December weekend in the Twin Cities.

Setting up on a frosty Saturday morning (see photo) we had no idea what to expect. Yet once again, Minnesotans proved among the friendliest and most supportive people on this little blue planet. Once again we were busy at all three stores, meeting new people and connecting with lifelong friends.

So many blessings! Martin dropping by when we were busy in Woodbury, seeing a crowd at our table. His response? He disappeared briefly, then came back with coffee and muffins for us --- just exactly the boost we needed (caffeine is one of our key food groups) on a long afternoon. Where do such friends come from? Thank you, Martin --- We are unworthy.

Andrea the world-traveler. Off to Brazil for the holidays, but she drove from Minneapolis over to the far side of St. Paul, stopping by our book table to catch up. She's finishing up an M.B.A. --- Watch out, world! Her intellect and energy will bless all her future employers.

Alyssa and Andrew, newly engaged. Correction: Newly betrothed. We tried to discern the difference. Andrew's take on it? "If I was engaged, I could still back out of it. When I'm betrothed, that means I have to follow through and get married. I'm already committed." Their radiant smiles brightened our bookmarks and gladdened our hearts!

Molly with daughter Patty. Molly is one of the smartest and best single moms we've met along our journey. She's building a career in law enforcement and currently applying to join the force in a nearby Minnesota community. Note to that community: HIRE HER. Molly is bright, honest, hard-working, and very wise.

Rachel whose marriage is featured in the intro of our book "The Soul-Mate Marriage." Busy raising two great kids, Rachel got up early on a Saturday morning and drove many miles to see us. We've known her since before the marriage, before the kids, before so much of life.

Our good friend Naomi with two adopted sons, launching a career in social work. Naomi, we are so proud of you! Paul and Pauline, married these many years, looking young and energetic as always. Trent and Melissa, Michael and Alice, Curt and Lori --- all these and more. What a blessing to connect with each one of you. Here's a hint: It's not about the books, it's about continuing our lifelong friendship with you and your families.

Rising well before dawn to meet a looming deadline, there are moments when writing can be a lonely profession. Is anybody out there? Will anyone read these words? After a busy weekend meeting readers old and new, we are refreshed, renewed, encouraged. As long as God gives us breath, we'll do our best to help marriages be stronger, families be healthier, parents be less stressed and more successful.

We'll keep writing --- and we'll keep being grateful when people show up to say thanks. Speaking of thanks --- our thanks to the good people of Northwestern Bookstores for creating such a fun holiday tradition. We are grateful!

From the journey ----- 2 writers.

Enchanted Evening

Two musicians meet in a freshened sanctuary. He waits at the top of the aisle; she joins him after a quiet procession with Bride’s Dad along a rose-strewn aisle.

Eighteen of their closest friends fan out across the platform in muted greens and classic black. Groom’s Dad sings a blessing from his perch at the piano. A choir from Azusa Pacific University intones a marvelous Eric Whitacre composition.

Ministers minister, vows exchange, a ring surprises.

Will you? We will. And they mean it.

On to Old Towne, where so many Arts+Crafts homes line quiet streets designed a century ago. Out behind the French Estate, Mishavonna will sing – overflowing with the same talent and poise we witnessed so remarkably on American Idol – sans Simon.

The back-lawn buffet group is all smiles, quiet laughter, meaningful toasts. Sliced beef and sauced chicken, poured wine and decanted cider, a towering cake topped by the kneeling Batman and his chosen Belle.

If life is not entirely a journey through the rose petals, at least it can be launched amid mentors and ministers, sisters and fathers, grandparents and aunts, cousins and roommates. Hard times may come, but on this enchanted evening we ward them away with full glasses and plentiful plates.

Jonathan and Rachyl, we are here for you. Not just tonight, but always.

Jazz as the Son Rises

It's a sultry Sunday evening in downtown Escondido ---84 degrees on the curb; much warmer on stage in front of the footlights. We're at the Metaphor Cafe to catch one of our favorite jazz combos in action. We've been tracking this band for the past several years; they just keep getting better.

We're here in the heat to listen to "A Rae" --- their blend of jazz, fusion, Brazilian samba and Caribbean influences continues to amaze and inspire us. At the band's center is composer and guitarist Sam Hawkins, a gifted arranger who can draw from a classic hymn or a Sara Groves standard and somehow give the song wings.

Speaking of wings, the band is fronted by the voice of angel. Analicia Hawkins, daughter of the group's founder, sings like a blend of Corinne Bailey Rae and a young Norah Jones. Without pride or ostentation, Analicia steps to the microphone and lets the music live/breathe/express itself through her vocal chords.

This is a pure, uplifting, musical experience. Tonight the combo has added a father-and-son team that brings drums and sax to the mix. Woven into Sam Hawkin's tightly scripted arrangements, the sax adds a wonderful counterpoint: keep it coming. Meanwhile the drummer hits the rhythms exactly, carrying the pace with confidence.

Sometimes you're almost afraid to attend a concert, worried that a band you love may let you down, may have an off night, may not be up to the standards you expect. We've been following "A Rae" for several years now --- at coffee houses, jazz venues and even occasionally a church --- and this band simply doesn't disappoint.

For a few hours on a warm Sunday evening, we are carried away. From "Redemption" to "Great is Thy Faithfulness" we are blessed, inspired, encouraged, renewed.

On the Merits of Avoiding Writing...

Yellowed leaves are cliff-diving off the higher branches today. Enormous peer pressure must be in play: They're all doing it.

Meanwhile the squirrels are on meth. Who cooks it up for them? Where do they find the $40 to make the buy? Somehow every squirrel in this area has gone erratic and irrational --- and at very high speed. Thank God they can't drive.

I am on my patio at the moment, avoiding writing. Surrendered to the serene, I let the canopy of the trees and the chatter of the sparrows and the warmth of the sun carry me off to better places.

Out here there are no words, just wonder.

Well perhaps a few words. Dorothy Parker's poem floats up in my lazy memory: "Summer makes me drowsy, Autumn makes me sing. Winter's pretty lousy, but I hate Spring."

Exactly. Just now summer is reluctantly passing the baton to autumn. So when the clatter of keypad becomes too much to bear, I flee outdoors to learn from Nature. Nature which, with the exception of today's squirrels, is so enormously patient and forgiving.

Outdoors between musings I'm reading a wonderful new book, God Hides in Plain Sight, written by my friend and college cohort, Dean Nelson. Dean tells everyone that I gave him his first job in journalism; it's at least partly true. I was the editor of our university newspaper and I hired Dean to write occasional columns on topics of his choice. Today he's moved on to The New York Times.

Quoting Walter Wangerin, Frederick Buechner, Anne Lamott and others, Dean explores the Christian sacraments and teaches us how to find the holy amidst the seemingly mundane moments of everyday life. Dean has crafted a brilliant book, the kind where you read a paragraph and stop, thinking for a while, and then eventually you go on. Pick up a copy today; you'll be glad you did.

Are you avoiding writing? Choose a wiser way to do so. Learning from Nature, reading a great new book or a classic older one, these are helpful occupations for anyone who loves words. Over time the quality of our output is greatly affected by the virtues of our input. Until someone develops "CSI: Oxford" there may not be much merit to staring at the tube for hours.

Grab a great book like Dean's new one. Run outside and jog your memory. Bundle up your kids or someone else's and take them out for ice cream. Doing any of these things --- while being observant and fully present --- will help to feed your inner writer.

If you're an advanced lifelong slacker, ignore this lame advice. But if you're driven and tend toward perfectionism, if you're borderline OCD and self-critical by default (i.e., if you're a working writer) perhaps right now is an ideal moment to avoid writing --- if you can find a good way to do so.

Slip away outdoors. Curl up with a great book. Feed your soul. At some random unplanned moment in the future, your soul will nourish you in return.

Isn't that exactly what all of us need?

A Wedding in Wisconsin

The farmhouse perches on a hill; after a steep drop the yard takes a gentle slope to the lake. Gather 200 white chairs, pretty ribbons and bows, a wooden trellis.

Add in aunts and uncles, grandparents and cousins, Californians and Kansans, then fly in some friends from Scotland. Mix joyously on a Saturday afternoon and voila! you have a wedding in Wisconsin, sparkling under clear blue skies as ducks practice their landings on the choppy waves. Light the barn for dinner and dancing, feed people well, and watch people celebrate and enjoy.

Hunter and Meghan say "I do" and there are a couple of hundred witnesses, more if you count the ducks. Perfect weather, friendly people, fabulous food. Our host transforms his home and acreage into a picturesque wedding venue, scenic and memorable in every detail. By Saturday at dusk there's a newly married couple strolling barefoot along the grassy shore, smiling and greeting their guests.

After 359 of these (plus 16 renewal-of-vows ceremonies) people ask us if it ever becomes routine? Absolutely never. Each sermon is unique, crafted to the character of the bride and the groom. Each service is memorable, some more than others, most of them for the right reasons.

For Hunter and Meghan, no glitches. No one falls or faints. Even the junior couple has star-power, strolling confidently along the petal-strewn path. They almost steal the show! But we are here for the bride and groom, each lit from within by a genuine and lasting joy. Their love is infectious and spreading.

Now the sun has set, the cake's been cut, and the bridal couple is dancing. The DJ spins Tony Bennett, Boys-2-Men, Michael Buble' and more. Grab your partner and hit the floor; this barn is swinging.

Celebrating 60

Some people don't just say "I do."

Some people actually do.

Sixty years ago Mom and Dad pledged their lives to each other.

It's a pledge they've kept.

We're celebrating that this weekend, respecting and affirming the power of promises kept. What a legacy!

The happy young couple in yellow, along the right side of the table?

Those are the "newlyweds" who said "I do" sixty years ago. Don't they look great?

Two of Mom's siblings, two of Dad's siblings, spouses, kids, spouses of kids, kids of kids, grandkids --- Mom & Dad began as great parents but now they're great-grandparents.

Mix in a church service, a country club buffet, lunch for all around Mom's table (she insisted) and a couple of dozen family members --- You have all the ingredients for a happy celebration.

Mom & Dad --- Thank you for keeping your promises!

Where It All Began

This is where it all began.

This small, interfaith chapel is where we said "I do" on a sunny Sunday morning in May, surrounded by family and friends. Today, 31 years later, we stop by.

We're on our way to another celebration, a friend's graduation open house, but we take a scenic detour just to have the privilege of visiting our wedding place. Can we find it again? Will we remember the way? We don't live around here: We haven't for years.

Yet we round a corner, curve down a hill, and turn right into the campgrounds. There, nestled along the scenic shoreline of Lake Koronis, we find the chapel ---unchanged, open, welcoming and serene.

We stroll in, hand in hand, not quite believing it's been 31 years since we walked through these doors. 31 years since David's sister rang the bell as the ceremony concluded and the party began. 31 years.

31 years and the trees are taller, yet in a surreal twist the chapel is exactly the same: same furnishings, same decor, same details. We walk in the door to see everything just as it was that day, except for the smiling faces.

That day a young couple stood here, recited their own vows, and began their new life together filled with hope for the future. They're more in love now than then, closer together now than during the ceremony, but who could have known what time would bring?

If we could talk to that couple today, what would we tell them? Would we reveal their future, or simply let them wait and find out? What would we whisper in their ears as they exit the chapel and begin the first day of their married lives?

Maybe we'd borrow from a song: "Don't worry. Be happy!"

Maybe we'd tell them that God is absolutely trustworthy. All the time.

Maybe we'd tell them their material dreams were probably not going to come true,
but their dreams in every other category would be not only met but exceeded.

Maybe we'd tell them....oh, never mind. They didn't know any of these things that spring morning. They just knew they loved God and they loved each other. They just knew their parents and family members and friends were cheering for them and praying for them.

Maybe we wouldn't tell them anything at all. Maybe we'd just let them discover life one day at a time, finding a God who can be trusted, a future that doesn't need worrying about, and dreams that become reality within God's perfect timing.

Maybe we wouldn't reveal their future to them at all.

Maybe we'd just breathe a prayer of thanks, smile at their youthful joy, and be glad that we're farther along by now, a little less ignorant and a little more hopeful. Maybe we'd just watch them walk by, admiring them from a distance. Maybe we'd laugh with joy and let it go at that.

Today, quiet in the embrace of the same chapel, we say a prayer of thanksgiving and gratitude.
It's been an amazing journey, and God has authored it every step of the way.

Facebook or Face Time ?

So the wedding is finally over and eventually you'll write those "thank-you" notes. You're back from your honeymoon, looking forward to a life of romance, intimacy, and deep friendship.

Should happen, right?

But both of you are working, life is busy, and before you know it --- you look and sound like some of the 'old married couples' you know. So how did you up HERE???

We work with 20-something married couples all the time; here's what you need to know.

Would you believe a 20-something married guy spends HOURS a day playing on-line video games, but MINUTES a day in meaningful, engaging conversation with his wife?

Would you believe a 20-something married gal spends HOURS a day updating her Facebook page and connecting with MySpace friends, yet only MINUTES a day in face time with her guy?

Hey, maybe that's not the pathway to true intimacy.

Remember those long walks, coffee dates, and hours spent talking on the phone? You were madly in love and it showed --- EVERYONE noticed.

Hey, it's time to get back to the future.

Send each other silly text messages while you're at work.

Buy each other small gifts for no reason, without waiting for a special occasion.

Do a chore around the house --- because it's there, not because someone asked.

Find your partner's laptop and sit there.

I Love You Today (Forever)

I fell in love with Lisa on July 25, 1975 --- and every day since then.

I was 18 years old when I met an 18-year-old who is now my wife. I was impressed: Amazing smile, quick laugh, cute face, very pleasing shape. That was enough to get my attention, but it was her Christian character and her high intelligence that made me keep coming back.

I fell in love with her on July 25, 1975 --- and today --- and every one of the hundreds of days in between. I love her today (forever).

We spent several hours tonight counseling another married couple, also in ministry, both needing some healing after a bad experience in a church. The stress of that toxic, unhealthy congregation has taken its toll on this marriage. Yet as we peel back the layers, stripping away the surface hurts and recent arguments --- the core of their relationship is solid and strong.

Love is a choice, not a feeling.

Has it really been three decades since the two of us, attending the same college, began to realize we shared the same values, dreamed the same dreams, and even grew up in similar families? Both of us grew up reading, our noses buried in books, emptying out the library for the trip home.

Three decades later, books that we've written are in the U.S. Library of Congress, and at our local WalMart store, and staring at us (just tonight) from the shelves of our neighborhood Barnes & Noble. Who knew, all those years ago, that two 18-year-old wannabe writers --- would end up writing?

We're still going the same direction, hand in hand, still moving forward.

We've watched a lot of our friends split up across these years. He found someone 'more interesting.' She found someone who would really listen. Both of them moved on to other relationships and began new families. How did we miss alll that trauma? How did we stay together?

I love her today (forever).

Marriage is a daily choice, a fresh decision each morning. Marriage is dying to self, honoring your partner, putting someone else's needs and wants ahead of your own. Time to become a doormat? Not ever. But definitely time to offer and serve, help and hold, support and encourage. Guess what: Life is definitely not about 'me' --- it's more about 'u' and 'us.'

Every day is today (forever).

All those years ago, did I realize that love would cost me this much, require this much, yet somehow be so valuable? No. I just knew it was real, and worth giving up my freedom for. It was, so I did.

Three decades later life is richer and more fulfilling than my most extravagant ideas. The marriage of my dreams? It's the one I'm living in today, right now --- a summer evening spent counseling others and then driving home together, counting our blessings.

We are crazy in love, or maybe just crazy.

We can't wait to get home tonight, and luckily for us there is absolutely nothing to watch on cable. We call that a perfect evening...

Happy Trails

Today is our 31st anniversary; both impossible and surreal. We’ve been married for 5 or 10 minutes, maybe 5 or 10 months? We are still on our first honeymoon.

31 years? Random. But so far God has taken us to 50 US states, 9 provinces and 2 territories of Canada (territories are provinces by another name, eh?), and 42 nations of the world.

31 years? Unlikely. But so far God has granted us 10 published books; we just learned that Book #11 has been approved by the editorial team at Harvest House. Let’s get writing!

31 years? Survivors. So many of our friends have loved and lost, experiencing brokenness in their marriages. We are ordinary people – no different, no better – blessed to have somehow escaped the trauma of a fractured family.

31 years? Workers. Everyone wants to know if we’re taking a cruise or jetting off to Europe. Not exactly. We’re both working today, blessed to be employed in a global economic meltdown. Four words of advice for aspiring writers: Keep your day jobs.

Today is our 31st anniversary; we had planned a nice dinner but a pastoral couple has asked for our help. Instead of dining out by candlelight, we’ll gather for 90 minutes of counseling others; helping a pastoral marriage heal, recover, and grow.

Happy Trails. Although it’s always nice to come home, the truth for us is that home is a suitcase, a new destination, making new friends and visiting old ones, getting video e-mail from grandkids and just being together. Home is being together.

We wish you many happy trails in the days ahead.

Ian Campbell: REMEMBERED

A browning leaf, curled against the last breath of winter, flutters at the end of a barren branch. Beneath the same oak a patch of snow hides in the shade of the trunk, fearing the sun. Spring is on its way to New Hampshire, but the landscape is wary.

Our bus bounces across the bridge spanning the Merrimack River. A baker’s dozen of us are sprawled out inside a bus-turned-limo, laughing and remembering and telling stories. Twelve Campbells plus one tall outsider, joined for this evening in tribute to Ian: husband and father, son and brother, uncle and friend.

Laughter is the best medicine. Daughter Heather tells a barnyard story --- she’s attacked by a rooster but saved by Dad. Ian’s broomstick revenge on the rooster has us laughing out loud --- and when Heather tells this same story later tonight over at Shiloh Christian Fellowship in the midst of the tribute to Ian --- the crowd roars in response. We need the healing power of laughter right now: Heather, you’ve given us a priceless gift.

Son Michael runs the family business. Grace Limousine, within whose bus we are chauffeured to the church, is an ongoing success story. Ian built this business from dream to reality, from no fleet to a gleaming group of new Lincoln Town cars and other specialty vehicles. We are riding in style tonight. The pastor and many friends will greet us as we step out of our limo. Although it’s an hour before the service time, the community is already gathering to honor a favorite son.

From memorable moments among many: these few.

Marines unfurl a flag while a lone bugle calls us to attention. Then ever so slowly and with infinite precision, the color guard folds the flag and hands it to the widow of a United States Marine. It is, in an evening of meaningful tributes, a highlight that all 600-plus of us will remember forever. Solemn, dignified, and respectful.

Ian’s son grabs a guitar and approaches the microphone. With Collin are his mother Annie plus brother Mike and sister Shawna. Collin Campbell, musical heir to his parents’ many gifts, leads us in worship and praise as we pay tribute to his dad. Collin’s voice, clear and strong and beautiful, carries the harmonious group through Agnus Dei. “I didn’t know Collin could sing so well,” say many who attend. Back home in Tulsa there are 800 people who already knew that: Collin leads them in worship every Sunday.

Joseph clings to his grandfather, a noble Scotsman who is burying his son with dignity and with great courage. Isaac cares for his mother, checking to see if she needs anything. Son Jeff has brought his own sons, red-haired Scots with the full family DNA; Jeff’s joyous and active boys remind us of the cycle of life.

Shawna and others have prepared a wonderful slide show. Photo after photo shows us Ian as we love him: child, Marine, young wedded husband, doting dad. The birth of each child is celebrated and honored in pictures. The 25th anniversary of Ian and Annie is noted with photographs. One by one the images show us Ian surrounded by his adoring and grateful family.

This evening will end, as all such evenings must, yet the family lingers late and long, receiving each guest with great grace. They are tired, these Campbells, tired after days of watching Ian pass into eternity. But there is no hint of tiredness in their eyes or their words tonight: They are making sure that each guest gets their full attention. Annie, in particular, blesses the multitudes.

Eventually the limo will go home, back toward the house that Ian built, out in the country in Goffs Town. The house will be a little quieter, a little sadder, a bit subdued. Yet somehow everyone in that house knows that Ian has gone to his true home --- and that one day, we know not when, he will welcome us to join him.

Manchester is dark now. Little orbs of light flicker here and there against the ebony hillsides. We ride mostly in silence, watching the flames dance in the video fireplaces of the limo.

There could be no better tribute in all the world than the one Ian has received on this night. His bride, his children, his father, his family and his friends have gathered to remember him. They have gathered to honor his life and to affirm his long walk with God. Then when all is said and done, Ian’s bride and his children turn out the lights and go home, taking Ian’s example and witness with them always.

Ian, you are in our hearts forever.

Looking Up and Looking Around: From Psalm 33

Have you ever tried to picture what it was like when God created the world? I see God in worn and faded overalls, down on His knees in the dirt, prodding the soil with a hand shovel and shaping creation with His fingers.

I love gardening: I assume I get that from my Father.

Meanwhile the Psalmist explains creation differently. “By the word of the Lord” --- the stars and heavens were created, reports the Psalmist. So God was not shaping matter with His hands; instead He was literally speaking creation into being. (Psalm 33:6)

God breathed; God spoke. In the moment of His speaking, God’s Divine words tumbled out into empty space and the stars were born. Planets began their orbit and the energy of matter began spreading out in a beautiful array, in all directions.

I’ve heard a lot of explanations for creation. Big bang. Matter colliding with anti-matter until (luckily for us) there was no anti-matter left. Then matter colliding with matter until an azalea bloomed, a fish swam and an elephant bellowed.

Instead of placing my faith in explosions (exactly what blew up, and what made it blow up, and how did it get there to blow up?) I am more than content to picture a Creative God breathing and speaking. From the words of Moses to the words of David to the words of Jesus I am content to believe in my Creator and my Lord.

Lessons from Woody

We knew we couldn't keep him forever, but we held on as long as we possibly could. Our good friend and writing mentor, Dr. Sherwood Wirt, has finally departed our San Diego Christian Writers Guild (which he founded) in favor of a higher calling.

Woody Wirt was our friend (here's Woody at 93, with David, attending and teaching at the guild's annual fall conference in Rancho Bernardo) and our mentor in writing and life. We learned so much from his wise example!

Woody taught us humility. He authored 42 books in his lifetime, and was working on book #43 when he passed away. We've seen the notes; that next book would be wonderful just like his others. Our favorite from the entire group? His translation of St. Augustine's "Confessions" which is titled "Love Song." Although the book is out of print, find it where you can and simply enjoy. Augustine's prose may have been beautiful; Woody's is gorgeous. Yet despite all his success in publishing, Woody was approachable and humble, patient with beginners, never condescending or proud.

Woody taught us intellectual curiosity. At age 97, even just before his death, Woody was learning -- learning -- learning. He was always learning! Woody was the last journalist to interview C.S. Lewis before Lewis died; out of those notes Woody wrote articles and taught courses about Lewis. Woody's wide-ranging intellectual curiosity covered all things Christian, many of the great periods of history, anything about words and writing.

Woody taught us personal integrity. Woody was the pioneering editor of Billy Graham's magazine called "Decision." The magazine grew out of Woody's interviews with Billy Graham and his subsequent involvement in the Billy Graham Evangelistic Association. Woody traveled the world with Graham and his team, always modeling the highest standards of personal character and personal integrity. Billy Graham surrounded himself with men of exceptional talent: Dr. Sherwood Wirt was one of those men!

Woody taught us the virtue of humor. Positive, encouraging, and always filled with zest for life, Woody survived the death of his first wife, whom he deeply loved, and yet kept his love for life. Eventually Woody married again -- he is survived by his wonderful Ruth, who has cared for him with such tender love in Woody's later years. Woody was always quick with a punch line, quick with word play, quick to laugh! Any interaction with Woody involved a great deal of laughter: Woody knew the value of fun.

Ten books and dozens of articles into our rookie season as authors, our lives have been hugely impacted by Woody Wirt's personal example, his wisdom about words, and his extended ministry through our guild. It's hard to imagine writing without Woody -- but we know he's in heaven's library right now, either reading or writing.

Woody, you continue to inspire us!