Stephanie Rische

Blogger and Writer: Capturing Stories of God's Grace

Birthday Party for a Book

My memoir, I Was Blind (Dating), but Now I See, is having its first birthday, and I want to give YOU presents to mark the occasion! See the end of this blog for the free giveaways.

This book is my story, but I hope you will find that it’s your story too. On one level, it’s an account of my misadventures in dating and some of my more embarrassing moments, but on another level, it’s the story of a human being who is longing for something and praying for something when it seems like God is being silent. How do you keep hoping and praying when year after year it seems like God is saying no?

Here’s an excerpt from the book about prayer and a pair of Keds.

***

In many ways my dad was old school when it came to raising us kids. He had high standards, and we were expected to work hard and pull our weight. He could be firm with us, giving us what he called “sensitivity training”—as in making us less sensitive. Most nights at dinner he’d try to toughen us up through spirited banter and debate, playing the role of devil’s advocate so we’d be ready for the real world.

But I knew without a doubt that he loved me. My mind wandered back to a scene with the twelve-year-old me. My family was on a cross-country trip to visit my grandparents, and I was decked out in my favorite outfit: Wardrobe and accessory coordination was not something to be taken lightly in the early ’90s. I was sporting a black-and-white polka-dot shirt, black stirrup pants, polka-dot earrings, and a hair bow to match. Then there was the pièce de résistance of the outfit: my brand-new knockoff Keds in—you guessed it—black and white. I was sure of it: Those kids in Washington State had never seen anyone as cool as me.

But before we arrived at my grandparents’ house, Dad spotted a sign for a state park just off the highway. It would do us good to get out of the car and stretch our legs for a bit, he declared, brushing off our protests that it was raining.

“Oh, you guys are babies. That’s not rain—it’s just mist.”

And so we set out on a hiking trail, despite the ever-thickening “mist.”

I flipped up the hood of my coat, hoping to salvage what was left of my mile-high, amply hair-sprayed bangs, and trudged on. But then we hit the bridge. At least I thought it was a bridge. It was hard to tell because at the moment it looked like one giant mudslide.

There was no way I was going to let my beautiful new shoes touch slop of that caliber.

“Can we head back?” I pleaded. “Or at least go another way?”

But one by one, my family members crossed the bridge ahead of me. I stood rooted to the spot, sure they’d turn back once they saw I was serious. I will not budge, I steamed silently, arms akimbo. But they didn’t throw so much as a backward glance in my direction.

I had melodramatic visions of being found several days later by a forest ranger, having survived on grubs and rainwater, black-and-white shoes still more or less intact. But despite my efforts to be brave in the face of abandonment, I felt my eyes starting to sting, and I was pretty sure it wasn’t the rain. I didn’t want to be separated from my family, but there was no way I could change my mind now. I’d made my stand.

Then, through a curtain of tears and rain, I saw my dad heading back over the bridge. Wait . . . why is he coming this way? I wondered. Would I get a lecture? Would he tell me he was disappointed I was being a wimp?

But as he got closer, I saw the twinkle in his eye. “Hop on my back,” he said, crouching down. I couldn’t believe it. I was way too old to be getting piggyback rides. But the rest of my family was on the other side, waiting, and I knew this was the only way. So my dad carried me across that muddy bridge, knockoff Keds and all.

I supposed if I was looking for a model of how a father responds to persistent prayer, this moment when my dad came to the rescue of a daughter whose outfit was in jeopardy was as good a model as any.

I read that familiar passage from Matthew 7:

You parents—if your children ask for a loaf of bread, do you give them a stone instead? Or if they ask for a fish, do you give them a snake? Of course not! So if you sinful people know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your heavenly Father give good gifts to those who ask him.

It struck me that nowhere did it say the father was compelled to give his child precisely what she asked for, that the child could special order what she wanted from a gift catalog. It just said a good father would give good gifts to his children. What if the gift God wanted to give me was different from the one I’d been asking for? What if the thing I thought was good was merely a snake dressed up as Mr. Right?

A good dad will fulfill his daughter’s request—but only if it’s the right gift, at the right time. Sometimes he may give the gracious gift of saying no. But always—always—he cares about his child’s request.

In his classic book on prayer, C. S. Lewis puts it this way: “Someone said, ‘A suitor wants his suit to be heard as well as granted.’ . . . We can bear to be refused but not to be ignored. . . . The apparent stone will be bread to us if we believe that a Father’s hand put it into ours.”2

Perhaps God wasn’t a stern father after all, with a snake in one hand and a stone in the other. Maybe he was more like a good dad—with a twinkle in his eye and his child on his back.

Gift #1: 20 Days of Prayers

Have you ever felt stuck in your prayer life . . . like your prayers keep bouncing off the ceiling or you’ve just run out of words somewhere along the way? I’ve collected some of my favorite prayers over the years—for times when you’re lonely, for times when the future seems uncertain, for times when God seems far away. You can download this free pdf (beautifully designed by my friend Sarah) on the right side of this website.

Gift #2: Blind date with a book

After all the flopped blind dates I’ve been on, I’m still pro blind date (be sure to read the epilogue!). So in honor of blind dates, I’m hosting a “Blind date with a book” raffle this month. Share this post (or any post about my book) in the month of February, and I’ll enter you for the chance to win a free book. I’ll match you up based on a series of reading-preference questions.

Gift #3: Tyndale offer

Tyndale.com is offering 25% off I Was Blind (Dating) but Now I See for the month of February. If you buy a copy for you or a friend, I’d be happy to sign a nameplate and mail it to you.

***

Whether you find yourself with a date or not this Valentine’s Day, please know that you are loved—without limit and without condition.

I have loved you . . . with an everlasting love. With unfailing love I have drawn you to myself.
Jeremiah 31:3

               

Friday Favorites for February

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Happy Friday, everyone! Here are a few of my recent favorites that I wanted to share with you . . . plus an UnValentine’s book giveaway!

For anyone who thinks Valentine’s Day is overrated . . .

Kate Hurley’s book, Cupid Is a Procrastinator, is a breath of fresh air in the world of singles’ books. This isn’t a how-to-snag-a-mate book or an embrace-the-gift-of-singleness book; it’s more like a friend who knows how you’re feeling when you’re standing up in your third wedding or dreading another solo Valentine’s Day. I’m giving away a free copy of this book—just tell me about a less-than-stellar Valentine’s Day in the comments section! (If you don’t win, the ebook is on sale for $.99 the rest of February!) Cupid Is a Procrastinator

For anyone who appreciates longhand . . .

I’ve always loved the handwritten form over type, whether it’s class notes, letters, or even book writing. I thought it was just because I’m a Luddite, but it turns out there’s some science behind it. Handwriting Helps You Learn

For anyone who struggles with contentment . . .

Did you know there are times when it’s okay not to be content? This is a great list by Lina Abujamra. Don’t Be Content

For anyone who knows what the dark cloud of insecurity feels like . . .

Sharon Hodde Miller says, “In many cases, the answer to insecurity is not more affirmation or positive self-talk. Not even the Christian kind. Instead you need to look hard in the face of insecurity and ask what God might be crucifying.” The Great Teacher, Insecurity

Remember: write a comment for a chance to win Kate Hurley’s book!

Laughing at Our Stories

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Confession: I’m a recovering serious person. I used to take things uber-seriously. (Sometimes I still do, but I’m getting serious about lightening up.) I took my failures seriously. I took God seriously. And most of all, I took myself seriously. And while it’s certainly important to give our best effort to our work, our relationships, and our faith, I think sometimes the best thing we can do is laugh.

I think God himself has a sense of humor . . . not a twisted, sardonic sense of humor, but a delightful, belly-laughing kind. And I’m convinced that while he cares about my problems, sometimes he pats me on the head and says, “Oh, child, try to lighten up a little. Someday this isn’t going to seem like The End of the World. I promise, one day you’ll be able to laugh about this.”

Laughter doesn’t always come easily, but it may be a discipline every bit as much as prayer and study. In fact, sometimes laughter is the most spiritual thing we can do. Laughter is one of the best ways to unburden our souls and ease the load of another.

Laughter is carbonated holiness.
Anne Lamott

Over the course of my eight flopped blind dates, I did my share of tear-shedding, especially when I felt rejected or when I wondered if God would ever answer my longing for someone to share life with. But I learned something else too: sometimes it was okay—healthy, even—to laugh. The best thing I could do for my soul in those moments of embarrassment and/or disappointment was to embrace my story, quirks and pitfalls and all, and laugh.

So now I’d love to hear from you. What’s YOUR date story that you can laugh about now, in retrospect? Here’s an added challenge: see if you can share your story in 20 words or less.

Here are a few examples to get you started. (Full stories included in my book!)

  • Got a theological grilling from the guy before he’d progress to date #2. Eschatology + Caesar wrap = indigestion.
  • Off-duty limo driver made me sit in the backseat. Had our first conversation through the rearview mirror.

Okay, your turn! I’ll give away a free copy of my book to someone who shares their story!

Bonus: If you’d like to share your stories in person (or hear other people’s stories), please join us for a Girls’ Morning Out at Prairie Path Books in Wheaton. There will be coffee, chocolate, stories, and laughs . . . plus free giveaways! Hope you can join us!

Friday Favorites

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For book lovers who love coffee and coffee lovers who love books . . .

These descriptions of what famous authors would do when ordering coffee is one of the funniest things I’ve read in a long time. They’re all great, but I especially liked this one: “Charlotte Brontë goes up to the counter for a cup of tea and Reader, she orders it!” If Authors Ordered at Starbucks

For anyone who’s still recovering from Valentine’s Day . . .

Great thoughts about love and marriage from Beth Moore. A Valentines Post: I Believe and I Don’t

For word geeks . . .

Although there are at least a million words in the English language, the 100 most common words account for over half of the words we use. This cool site lets you type in a word and find out its ranking. The Long Tail of the English Language

For anyone who is wondering if the little things they do matter . . .

This is a beautiful post by Christie Purifoy about the unexpected hospitality God gives to us. “I think that the very quietest hospitality might just be the hospitality God extends to each of us.” Love Prepared Table

For anyone who longs for real connection in their life . . .

I love it when worlds collide, and this is a beautiful collision: on this podcast my friend from college interviews an author I work with. How cool is that? Sophie Hudson talks about her new book, Home Is Where My People Are, and they discuss good stuff like female friendship, what makes a place home, and the journey of faith for the “good girl.” God Centered Mom

10 Sacred Love Notes

cake topperValentine’s Day can be fraught with so many emotions other than love . . . no matter what stage of life we find ourselves in. If you don’t have someone to celebrate with, the incessant jewelry commercials can feel like multiple carats of pain. And even if you do have a valentine, there are plenty of opportunities for ugly things like guilt, comparison, and unmet expectations. Social media only seems to make us feel worse, as there’s always someone out there whose life looks happier, prettier, or more romantic.

My sister recently asked me to share a fun Valentine’s Day memory, and to my surprise, the one that came to mind was the Valentine’s Day I was in fourth grade, home with strep throat. I was heartbroken to miss the school party—and the valentine exchange in particular—but to my delight, my neighbor brought my decorated shoebox home on the school bus for me. My mom sat on the edge of my bed and we opened them together, one by one. My fiery throat was momentarily forgotten, and it didn’t even matter that I had no appetite for the chalky candy hearts. As my mom sat there reading valentines with me, I felt supremely and unequivocally loved.

Wherever you find yourself this Valentine’s Day, my hope is that you will know, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that you are loved. If you’re feeling loved already, he’s inclined to pour on even more love—the excessive, abundant, prolific kind. And if you’re having a rough Valentine’s Day, I think he’d like to just sit there beside you and let you know you’re not alone.

These are some of my favorite love notes from God, and I hope they will speak to you today too. (Chalky hearts not included.)

For the Lord your God is living among you. He is a mighty savior. He will take delight in you with gladness. With his love, he will calm all your fears. He will rejoice over you with joyful songs. ~Zephaniah 3:17

For his unfailing love for you is higher than the heavens. His faithfulness reaches to the clouds. ~Psalm 108:4

May you have the power to understand how wide, how long, how high, and how deep his love for you is. ~Ephesians 3:18

He has loved you with an everlasting love. With unfailing love he has drawn you to himself. ~Jeremiah 31:3

Surely his goodness and unfailing love will pursue you all the days of your life, and you will live in the house of the Lord forever. ~Psalm 23:6

The Word became human and made his home among you. He was full of unfailing love and faithfulness. ~John 1:14

Even before he made the world, God loved you and chose you. ~Ephesians 1:4

In his unfailing love, your God will stand with you. ~Psalm 59:10

See how very much our Father loves you, for he calls you his child, and that is what you are! ~1 John 3:1

Nothing can ever separate you from God’s love. Neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither your fears for today nor your worries about tomorrow—not even the powers of hell can separate you from God’s love. No power in the sky above or in the earth below—indeed, nothing in all creation will ever be able to separate you from the love of God that is revealed in Christ Jesus your Lord. ~Romans 8:38-39

*Note that I have taken the liberty of changing some of the pronouns in these verses to make the application more personal. I trust that I have done so while keeping true to the meaning of Scripture.

A True Story of Love and War and 67 Years

The year was 1946. The Nuremburg war trials had begun. Wartime price controls were being lifted in the United States. And America’s boys were slowly trickling back from the war…including the tall, dark-haired Lieutenant Voiland, having defied the odds and survived countless bombing missions on the European front.

His fiancée, Cay, had been waiting and praying anxiously, day by day, month by month, year by year, longing for her sweetheart to come home. She’d been planning their wedding while he was gone—the ultimate act of hope in the midst of a war in which half a million men who left never returned. With her trademark spunk, she refused to let the scarcity of silk prevent her from having a wedding dress, so she arranged to have a dress made from the unlikeliest of sources (I wrote about the remarkable story here).

For most of my life, I assumed Grandma and Grandpa’s February wedding date had been scheduled around Valentine’s Day. Whenever we gathered to celebrate as an extended family, we marked the occasion with red decorations and a heart-shaped cake, and I never heard anything to indicate otherwise.

It was only recently that I discovered their wedding date was determined not by Valentine’s Day but by Ash Wednesday.

“Ash Wednesday?” I asked Grandma. The dots weren’t connecting for me.

“Things were stricter back then,” Grandma said. “You couldn’t get married during Lent.”

g and g weddingOf course—Lent. The church took seriously this 40-day period of sacrifice, fasting, and repentance, and it was not the time for weddings and feasts.

Grandma winked at me. “I’d been waiting long enough,” she said. “I wasn’t about to wait until after Easter!”

And so, on a Tuesday morning, just a day before Ash Wednesday, they squeezed in a simple ceremony at the campus chapel. I’ve always been enchanted by the lone black-and-white photograph of Grandma and Grandpa on their wedding day: Grandma looking beautiful and big eyed in that one-of-a-kind gown, and Grandpa, serious and handsome as ever in his classic suit.

***

This year Valentine’s Day and Ash Wednesday fell one day apart from each other, just a week before my grandparents’ 67th anniversary, and I was struck by the tender intersection of these sacred occasions: Valentine’s Day. A much-anticipated wedding. Ash Wednesday. Lent. An anniversary marking almost seven decades of marriage. And it got me to wondering: maybe Ash Wednesday is the perfect backdrop for a wedding after all. Valentine’s Day offers fine sentiments, of course—an appropriate reminder for us to express our love each year. But real love may be more aptly captured by a day marked by sacrifice and surrender and the choice to lay down one’s life.

Grandma and Grandpa know this well. The war showed them the cost of love from the very beginning: the agonizing separation—both by an ocean and by endless days, when the only threads connecting them were their love and a string of handwritten letters. And just because the war ended, that didn’t mean the sacrifices did. With the ratio of one income to 12 children, they sometimes had more month than they had money.

And now, as my grandparents are in their golden years, they are dealing with the sacrifices of caring for each other’s needs as their bodies and minds aren’t quite what they used to be.G&G

But if you asked them about the cost of love, they’d likely look at you with a bewildered shrug. That’s just what love does. It’s the very nature of love to give, to sacrifice, to lay down one’s life for one’s beloved.

And that is, after all, what we celebrate during Lent. This season marks the greatest romance of all time: the Savior who sacrificed everything to show us his love. The one who fought courageous battles on our behalf. The one who laid down his life for the ones he loves.

Love and Lent. Perhaps they’re more connected than I realized. 

So happy 67th anniversary, Grandma and Grandpa.

And happy VaLENTine’s season, everyone.

***

If you’d like to read more about my grandma and grandpa’s love story, including how Grandma’s dress was passed down to two more generations, check out my aunt Annie’s story here.

To Anyone Who Feels Underloved on Valentine’s Day

I write this with no credentials except that I’ve spent my share of Valentine’s Days solo. And I know firsthand that there’s no way around it: it stinks to feel alone on Valentine’s Day.

I remember being single and having nice people try to cheer me up whenever February 14 rolled around. (Which it inevitably did. Every. Single Year.) I appreciated their kindness, but it kind of felt like getting a stick of gum when you’re ravenous for steak.

All that to say, I won’t pretend that anything I can say will make this day easier. But I feel compelled to say it anyway, just to let you know that you are not invisible. You are not alone. And even when it doesn’t feel like it, you are loved.

Today, if you feel betrayed or abandoned by someone you thought would never leave, this is what God says to you:

I will never fail you. I will never abandon you.

—Hebrews 13:15

Today, if you feel alone in this big world, God says:

Be sure of this: I am with you always, even to the end of the age.

—Matthew 28:20

Today, if you feel forgotten, like so many leftovers, God says:

I will not forget you! See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands.

—Isaiah 49:15-16

Today, if you feel like you got passed over when Cupid was flinging his arrows, this is what God says:

I have loved you…with an everlasting love. With unfailing love I have drawn you to myself.

—Jeremiah 31:3

Today, if you feel unnoticed, damaged, unappreciated, devalued, here’s God’s promise:

The Lord your God is living among you.

He is a mighty savior.

He will take delight in you with gladness.

With his love, he will calm all your fears.

He will rejoice over you with joyful songs.

—Zephaniah 3:17

As for me, my love isn’t close to God’s love. It has conditions, it lets people down, it’s forgetful, it’s self-centered and fickle and cantankerous. But my prayer this Valentine’s Day is that God will weed out my own love from my heart and replace it with his love. Love that is unconditional and pure and selfless.

“In God there is no hunger that needs to be filled, only plenteousness that desires to give.”

—C. S. Lewis, The Four Loves

It’s with that generous love that I want to love God and my husband and my family and my friends and strangers. And it’s with that love that I love you, whoever you are, wherever you are, however alone you’re feeling right now.

Wherever you find yourself on Valentine’s Day, know this:
You. Are. Loved.

Love in the Little Things

Sometimes love is in the big things—gem-studded jewelry, exotic trips, big promises, grandiose gestures. But more often, as I was reminded the other day, it’s the little, everyday actions that string together to make up this thing we call love.

It was a Friday, and I’d just met a big deadline at work, so when I got home, Daniel suggested we go out to dinner to celebrate. We decided to try a new Thai place to replace “our” Thai restaurant that bit the economic dust (you can read the sad story here). When our food arrived, Daniel surprised me by pulling something out of his bag.

“A plate?” I asked.

When I looked more closely, things started to make more sense. The “Your Special Day” plate!

When I was a kid, Mom had a special red plate she pulled out on significant occasions—not just on birthdays, but also on days we accomplished something worth celebrating. A piano recital. A satisfactory report card. A basketball win. Shortly after I moved out on my own, my sister made me a plate like it, and now Daniel has been swept along in the tradition too.

But I certainly wasn’t expecting to have the plate show up in the middle of Tusk Thai restaurant. It was a little thing, perhaps, but it meant something big to me.

The next day I got a card in the mail—an expected burst of yellow amid the junk mail and bills. What’s this? I wondered. Christmas is over, it’s not my birthday…

I tore open the envelope to find a card from my friend Sarah that said, “Thanks for being you. I’m looking forward to another year of being your friend.” A card for no reason at all, just to tell me I meant something to her. It was a series of little things, really…she picked out just the right card, she wrote words with real pen and ink, she put a stamp in the corner so it would make its way to my mailbox. Little things; big love.

How often am I looking to God for grand gestures to prove his love—the impossible miracle, the big answer to prayer, the parting of a proverbial sea? And to be certain, God does offer those large-scale proofs of love at times. But he also gives us undeniable bread-crumb trails of his love through the smaller things too. A ray of sunshine bursting through the cloudy sky. The provision of daily bread. The innocent laughter of a child. An unlikely burst of joy that surges despite all evidence to the contrary.

May my eyes ever be open to those little acts of love. Because who knows—maybe those little things are big things after all.

***

Epilogue: Daniel and I noticed throughout dinner that we seemed to be getting more attention than the other customers. The waiter was extra friendly, and the owner kept walking by our table—not saying anything, but obviously observing us. When we’d finished our meals and were waiting for the check, we were surprised to see the waiter coming out with a plate of sumptuous coconut custard. I looked over my shoulder, wondering if this sweet treat was missing its intended mark. But no, the waiter’s eyes landed straight on me, eagerly awaiting my reaction.

I fumbled out something appreciative, but I was baffled.

“It’s not my birthday!” I whispered to Daniel after the waiter left. And then it hit me. Of course! The plate. He must have assumed “Your Special Day” meant birthday. Hence the free dessert.

I certainly wasn’t going to complain. As I looked at the last bite of custard, which Daniel had saved for me, as usual, it felt for all the world like another little piece of love, right there on my plate.plate