Monday, June 16, 2008

to terry and libby

Let me tell you what you’ve meant to Ali and me:

You’ve been the model family for us. I know that when we’re parents we won’t be just like you, but I want to be anyways. If you’re not shaking your head outwardly right now, you’re doing that inside because you’re too humble to admit how great you are. You’re thinking that we don’t see all the failed moments when others aren’t looking. If you fail at all, you fail well and gracefully. Eli and Eden wouldn’t idolize you the way they do if you didn’t. I love that y’all don’t conform. You may think you do in many ways, but believe me (the bystander) that you truly “no longer conform to the patterns of this world” as Paul writes. A few examples:

Somehow you’ve managed to stay culturally relevant despite the American family trend of isolation. You’re into music, mostly good music (I’m thinking of James Blunt right now), art like Libby’s photography, blogging, and social causes. I’ll never forget our first visit to your life group. I remember thinking that this was an alive group of Christians who weren’t afraid to bring their faith into the public, social realm. Y’all were talking about oppression and how we support it with products that we buy, homelessness, and the new monastic movement. Finally!...a group of Christians that cared about caring for neighbors- locally and abroad. You are refreshing. I remember at Arby’s, you were concerned about making sure you sent Eli to a diverse school where he could interact with other kids not like him. I deeply admire how you’ve exposed Eli and Eden to life…real life…like Herman and our other homeless friends. I appreciate how you are so honest with your children. By that I don’t mean just not telling them lies, but rather the open way you live your lives.

Libby, you’re by far the hippest mom. It doesn’t surprise me at all that you have a tattoo. I wonder if Eden knows how lucky she is to have a mom like you- a mom who looks out for the interests of her at the expense of her own, a mom who embraces uniqueness with the name she’s given her, a mom who bears humility, compassion, servitude, and sadness unashamedly and honestly. I wonder if Terry knows how lucky he is to have someone as supportive as you. I’ve grown to love Terry and his indecision, and have told him multiple times that I will never go to the voting booth with him, but I know it must be frustrating at times for you. Are we moving? Where? Will he quit his job? Before he gets a new one? What does he want to do? To what extent am I factored in to this decision? Is it selfish of me to not want him to make any changes at all? These must be a few questions that you’d like answers to about 3 years ago. I can assure you that Terry factors you and the kids into his decision-making (or indecision-making) more than himself. Through all the unanswered questions, you’re supportive. Terry told me that there was this job in Cali that he wasn’t even that interested in, but since you thought he actually may have been interested but didn’t want to admit it, you encouraged him to apply even though you don’t have any interest in moving that far away. That’s love, but I expect it from you.

Terry, in many ways, you’re the most challenging person I’ve ever known (in a good way). You don’t preach, you wouldn’t be any good at it if you did, but you question things like the status quo. When Gary Soulsman asked me to describe you, I told him that you were “game”- meaning that you’re down for almost anything. With your personality, you create an environment where no one’s ideas are insignificant. You’ll even help them follow through with them. Here’s a few examples: taking homeless people out to lunch, Herman’s bridge (your idea, but you made it happen), your embrace of different political perspectives (i.e. your faith and politics series with the life group), and the way you lead the worship band. Everyone’s thoughts are meaningful. You’re “game.” You challenge me by the way you love your family. I wonder if Eli knows how lucky he is to have such a patient, mild-mannered dad. I know you think you have a temper, but if you do, it’s slow to anger. We have stories that undeniably bind us for eternity. How many friends have shared a meal with a traveling blues man that serenaded the waitress with impromptu lyrics?...or been rejected for free lunch offers in such weird ways?...or had a homeless man tell them they were Jesus in the flesh?...or questioned someone who thought we would turn him into the IRS?...or bought a meal for someone that we weren’t even sure existed yet? I am better for knowing you.

You ready for a cliché? We’ll miss you more than words can express!

4 comments:

leftunsaid said...

I couldn't agree more with everything you've said about Ter and Lib. We love those two crazy kids.

You and Ali aren't too shabby, either! Hope all is going well on your adventure down South. :)

Emily said...

i've tried to leave a comment a thousand times (okay not REALLY that many) but i never knew quite what to write. i juts think friends like terry and libby are to you guys, are soooo few and far between. what a rich blessing to have experienced during this season. i'm so glad you posted about this. :)

Libby Foester said...

Seriously, Ben... could you stop making me cry???
I'm not usually the cryer, so cut it out! ;)
Really, I love you & Ali a ton and we'll miss you guys so much.
I could say just as many awesome things about you guys as you did about us, but I'm not the writer you are. Keep up the writing, by the way... I love reading what you've put down.
And, I'll say this again... I think you'd make an awesome pediatrician. Our kids love you.

Julie said...

Ben, It's been a long time :) I found your blog through Mike's and wanted to say hello. I have loved reading your posts and would love to catch up! Email me sometime if you get a chance...jjroth04@hotmail.com - Jules :)