Wedding Bells!

A favorite topic of speculation the last few years is who the next person in the family will be to get married. Never in our wildest dreams did we dream it would be Keith's sister, Karen.

Karen was divorced in 1976 and has been single for 37 years. Last summer she started dating someone she has known all her life. They tied the knot on April 20th and Keith had the honor, along with his brother who is also a pastor, of performing her wedding ceremony.

They are 65 and 66.

Bob is an only child and his parents are both gone. 

He went from being by himself to Instant Family. 

It was the funnest, sweetest wedding I've ever seen. We smiled from start to finish.

Karen's grandson, Eric, walked her down the aisle.

When asked, "Who gives this woman to be married?" Eric repliced, "Her family does!"

My daughter Kiah sang a solo.

Lighting the unity candle.

Keith and his brother, Neil, co-officiated the service.

Bob kisses his much shorter bride.

Karen and Bob with Grandma Vik

Grandma Vik with her three children and their spouses.

My family, minus three daughters who couldn't make it because of a late April snowstorm.

We're missing five cousins in this picture. 

They always like to do one crazy shot. 

Youngest and oldest cousins - my Lani (14) and Jill (43)

Grandma Vik and Kiah

Andrew and Eric

Very cool present

Time to get married

Keith said this was his favorite wedding he's ever performed. It was a fun day, especially with being able to spend time with family and friends. We're happy to have a new brother. Welcome to the family, Bob. Hold on to your hats, we're a crazy bunch.

How An ISTJ Buys a Car

A Myers-Briggs temperament test says I'm an ISTJ. (Introvert, Sensory, Thinking, Judgement.) ISTJs over-analyze things.

My ENFP husband is the exact opposite. (Extrovert, Intuitive, Feeling, Perceptive.) This results in frequent clashes in how we approach life.

Case in point: our recent car purchase.

Keith (intuitive), has gut feelings and things either FEEL right or they don't. His favorite car-buying method is to have a general idea of what he wants, and then see the right car parked on the side of the road with a For Sale sign.

Since 2004 we've driven a useful, 14 mpg, maroon 1993 Ford Econoline passenger van. Five years ago I suggested buying something with better gas mileage. Since the van was paid for, Keith said we'd replace it when it died.

Taking the ferry to camp at Big Bay State Park last fall.

Only it never did. Despite our abuse, at 215,000 miles, it still runs. However, now we rarely drive anywhere with the whole family. We no longer need a van that seats eight people.

Keith has picked all our cars. "Molly", the blue Pinto I got instead of an engagement ring. "Feather," the blue VW Superbeetle he brought to our marriage. A blue Volkswagen van named "Vincent Van Gogh", followed by "Stacy" the blue station wagon. We drove a blue Ford passenger van for five years. Do you notice a pattern here?

When he bought our current maroon van, I wasn't sure I could drive a car that wasn't blue.

Fast forward nine years to 2013. I trust Keith's judgment but I hadn't chosen a car in thirty-five years and I wanted input on our next vehicle.

My priorities were good gas mileage, handling snow well, and room enough for four people to comfortably drive six hours to see the new grand-baby in July.

I didn't want a red car. Any color but. Why manufacturers make red cars is beyond me. I preferred blue, of course.

Keith could only handle a few hours of car shopping before getting overwhelmed. I spent hours on Craig's List, Yahoo Auto, and Car Gurus.

I suggested flying to another state for a better deal. Rural Northern Wisconsin isn't the cheapest place to buy a car. Keith would drive seventy miles to Duluth if need be, but he preferred to buy local.

I compiled a detailed spreadsheet, listing thirty car options in order of mpg, headroom (Keith is 6 feet tall), and rear legroom. Fuel-efficient cars without enough headroom got crossed off the list. Red cars never made the list. Maroon was okay, red was not. No exceptions.

We tried a Subaru Forester and Impreza because they handle snow well. However, Foresters don't get good gas mileage and Imprezas don't have enough headroom.

We vacillated between roomy minivans and smaller fuel-efficient cars. We almost bought a local blue Dodge Caravan. The Ford Fusion and three Focuses we drove didn't feel right.

We drove a really nice 2010 Prius that unfortunately was really expensive. We both liked driving my friend's blue Toyota Matrix. My poor husband had never tried so many cars before buying one before.

We'd drive a few cars, then wait for Keith to get un-overwhelmed, while I spent countless hours on the Internet. Keith still hoped to stumble upon a local good deal. He'd get emotionally flooded with too many options, while I scoured cyberspace and found good deals from Portland to Pittsburgh.

Last Thursday we spotted a used, bright RED Pontiac Vibe at a local dealer.

A Pontiac Vibe is the same thing as a Toyota Matrix. My OCD research showed Vibes get good gas mileage and have good headroom. After a test drive, my intuitive ENFP husband said, "I really like this car." After six weeks of shopping, Keith finally had his "Stumble upon, feels right" moment.

I couldn't see beyond the ugly red color. Keith said, "Really? You'd let color stop you from buying a car?"

"Yep," I said. I didn't want a car that looked like lipstick.

We drove three more cars but Keith liked the Vibe best. The dealer said technically the color was "Lava" and I wouldn't notice it after two months. I almost cried on the way home. I really didn't want a red car. Why couldn't it have been any other color?

I spent two hours Thursday night on the internet, determined to find a similar car that wasn't red. Surely, somewhere in the United States a reasonably priced blue Matrix or Vibe existed. Unfortunately, I didn't find anything that came close to the red Vibe.

This 2006 Vibe had 44,000 miles and was owned and babied by an 83-year-old woman. Nothing was wrong with it, other than the color. It met most of my criteria AND Keith thought it felt right.

Keith bought the car Friday morning. I felt embarrassed to drive such a bright car. What would people think of it's redness?

Positive reviews so far. The family loves it. Friends say they like red cars. Lava didn't bother anyone but me. Someone said to embrace its redness. To not see obnoxious, but sassy.

I'm slowly adjusting to the color. I saw a gray Vibe yesterday and thought it looked dull. I love my new (to me) car and am thankful the search is over.

ISTJs make things harder than they need to be. My ENFP keeps me grounded. Historically, ISTJ/ENFP differences caused Keith and I to butt heads. This time, instead of clashing, we collaborated. A definite win/win.

Our new to us car needs a name. Any suggestions?

Becoming Keith's wife

Years ago at the beginning of my freshman year of college, someone asked if I planned to go all four years there. At the time four years sounded like a huge amount of time and I could no more imagine committing myself for four years than I could see myself sailing around the world. Instead I planned to take one year at a time. (I ended up going to that college for five years.)

1983

27 years ago today I stood before a minister and guests and committed to spending the rest of my life with a green-eyed bearded Norwegian from Iowa. Aware of the length of a lifetime in vague general terms but totally unable to fathom the logistics of living with someone else for the rest of my life.

1984 - on our honeymoon

27 years is a long time. But when I talk to someone who's been married 

for 50 years, I can't wrap my mind around being married that long.

1993

27 years

Four states.

One son.

Six daughters.

2003

27 years of 365 days with three meals a day adds up to 29,565 meals. I didn't keep a tally so there's no way to know how many meals I didn't cook when we went to Taco Bell, or to a friend's house, or to a church potluck, or bought TV dinners, or I didn't feel like cooking. Just to be on the safe side, I can say that I've cooked at at least 20,000 meals since saying "I do."

2005

Not the most romantic thoughts on an anniversary, but marriage is sharing a life and life is composed of good days and bad days, a little special and a whole lot of normal, high points and low points, flying high and scraping bottom, sometimes stretching and occasionally breaking.

If you were to ask me when I became Keith's wife I would say July 7, 1984. But in all honesty, I'm still becoming his wife. We're not the same people we were 27 years ago. We've learned and grown and matured and regressed. We've experienced amazing moments of emotional intimacy and frustrating episodes of dumb-founding stupidity.

2006

So I'm up for the next 25 years, though the thought of gout, and walkers, and hardened arteries, and loss of memory, hair, and hearing, and Keith getting bushy eyebrows and ear hair is a bit scary.

2010

I'm thankful for 27 years of being married to to the one man out of the 3.5 billion males on the earth that belongs to me. I'm thankful that we didn't give up when things got hard and that he doesn't snore is also a definite plus.

I love you, Keith, even if you don't like sharing your Kindle with me.

Happy Anniversary

About Us

Saw this on Amy's blog, Just Add Walter,

and wanted to play along .

1. What are your middle names?

Mine is Louise (ick, Sorry Mom) and Keith's is Linn

2. How long have you been together?

We started dating in 1982, married in 1984. 27 years total.

3. How long did you know each other before you started dating?

A year and a half. We were good friends before that.

4. Who asked who out?

He did after I wormed out of him who he was interested in.

5. How old are each of you?
I'm 50 and Keith is 51

6. Did you go to the same school?
Yes, we met my sophomore and his freshman year at Western Bible College in Morrison (a suburb of Denver), Colorado.

7. Are you from the same home town?

Nope. I am from Sebastopol, CA and he is from Rock Rapids, IA

8. Who is the smartest?

Keith is. He's a whiz at understanding spiritual things, history, and geography. He's really good at fixing things.

9. Who majored in what?
I have a BA in Bible and Elementary Education. Keith has a Bible and Missions degree, and a Masters of Exegetical Theology.

10. Who is the most sensitive?
Keith. He is way more emotional.

11. Where is the furthest you have traveled as a couple?

Turkey and Greece in 2005


12. Who has the worst temper?
I've had my moments, but Keith has a worse temper. Sort of goes along with question #10.

13. How many children do you want?
I wanted 5. We have 7

14. Who does the cooking?
Mostly me, sometimes my daughters. Keith likes his spaghetti sauce better so prefers to cook our Italian food.

15. Who is more social?
Keith is an extrovert and usually at home in social settings. I am an introvert and prefer small groups or one on one.

16. Who is the neat freak?
Overall, Keith is neater. However he's really good at straightening things up so it looks clean. I'm much better at actually cleaning. We could spend the same amount of time cleaning and his room will look clean, while mine will have been dusted, swept, vacuumed, sorted, etc.

17. Who is the most stubborn?

We are both equally stubborn.

18. Who wakes up earlier?
He's an early bird and I'm a night owl. To meet in the middle, I stay up as late I want on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. On Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday I go to bed when he does.

19. Where was your first date?

College gym night at the YMCA and Dennys afterwards.

20. Who has the bigger family?

Me. 2 younger sisters and one brother. He has more cousins.

21. Do you get flowers often?
Nope. I like flowers but I'm practical and would rather Keith not spend money on something that is dead and will only last a few days. I do like getting flowers I can plant outside and enjoy for the growing season. It's always a treat to get a new perennial.

22. How do you spend the holidays?

Always with Keith's family. My family lives on the west coast.

23. How long did it take to get serious?
He broke up with me after dating eight months. After a month apart, he missed me and asked to get back together with the understanding that we might be heading towards marriage.

24. Who eats more?

Keith

25. What do you do for a living?
I'm a stay-at-home Mom and Keith is a Pastor.

26. Who does the laundry?

We both do. Laundry generated lots of arguments in our younger years. He didn't understand why I couldn't get it all done. After four years of laundry arguments, he stomped out of the house and came back with a nice laundry basket. He began to help more. Smart guy, he worked himself out of a job by buying all our kids their own laundry baskets and teaching them how to do their own laundry.

27. Who's better with the computer?
Me. We got our first computer in 1989. Love at first sight.

28. Who drives when you are together?

Usually Keith. Sometimes he asks me to drive so he can read.

29. What is your song?

I like "Still The One" by Orleans.

When Worlds Collide

One last post in my wedding anniversary series this week.

July 7, 1984 - Littleton Bible Chapel, in Littleton, Colorado.

Keith and I stood before the minister and all our family and friends.

I listened impatiently as the minister talked about the symbolism of wedding rings. He said people often comment that a ring is round and has no beginning or end, and is made of precious metal so is strong and enduring.

But he wanted us to impress upon us that our rings say to the world and to us, "We have chosen. There are no other options. When hard things happen and dark days come, our rings remind us that we made a commitment before God and man to be husband and wife and there are no other options."

This was a happy occasion and I didn’t appreciate the minister being so negative. Didn’t he have any better advice for us on our wedding day?

I have since recognized his wisdom. He knew there would come a day when the novelty of being married would wear off and our wedding shoes would start to pinch.

We had been warned about the things that usually irritate newlyweds, like leaving the toothpaste cap off or not putting the toilet seat down.

Those things were nothing. But can you believe Keith wanted to sleep almost year round with the window open? And have a striking mantel clock in our bedroom that went off every blessed hour all night long? He couldn’t get over that I slept with socks on and tucked the sheets in different that he did. Then there's the whole Miracle Whip versus Mayonaise debate.

He made me get rid of the two big stuffed teddy bears I’d slept with before we got married. He said the stuffed leopard head that I’d had since my twelfth birthday and had used for years with great delight to play practical jokes on people, was ratty and falling apart and threw it in the dumpster.

He was restless and intense and battled depression. How had I missed that in the two and a half years we dated?

When he said when we were dating that he didn’t like camping, he meant that he didn’t like camping. Camping is the funnest thing ever. How could he not like camping? Or backpacking? Or not want to go to the Grand Canyon? Oh my goodness, what had I done?

I had been raised by a father who loved being outdoors. We took countless day trips to the river, ocean, lakes, state parks, local playgrounds, and berry picking outings. Scenic drives, taking time to smell the roses and stop at scenic overlooks or historical points of interest. We took numerous camping trips, even camping the entire summer of my fifteenth year.

Keith had been raised by a very nice man who was a traveling salesman. So when he had vacation, he liked to stay home.

We had different viewpoints on music, TV, books,finances,  housecleaning, parenting, and vacation to name a few.

I drove Keith nuts with my tardiness and spur of the moment ways. Mealtimes were whenever. Housework got done when I felt like it, which was usually before company came over. Laundry was hit and miss. He wanted order and routine and complained that no two days in our home were alike. I couldn’t for the life of me see why that was important.

The personality test we took ten years ago showed we are complete opposites. Surprise, surprise.

So what to do? Suck it up and make the best of it? Hope and pray the other person changes? Live in separate houses?

Time and time again, I hear those words in my mind, "You have chosen, there are no other options."

I know now that it is normal for there to be bumps when two worlds collide. We came from two different states, cultures, religious backgrounds, and socio-economic levels. We had different personalities, temperaments, interests, dreams, and likes and dislikes. It’s only natural that there would be some painful moments as we adjusted to each other and learned to make it work.

I know there is no one on the face of the earth who would make me happier. Because every person on this planet is flawed and if they didn’t have Keith’s faults, they would have their own. We aren't designed to find complete fulfillment in another person. God wants to fulfil and complete me. Only God can fill the hole in my heart.

So I pray for wisdom and patience and the ability to forgive. I try not to do things that irritate Keith, some days succeeding, some days not. I try to have thicker skin and not take offense. I enjoy the good days, thankful for the sun, knowing it won’t always be shining.

I focus on Keith’s good qualities. His simple, loyal, faithful, stable, steadfast ways. His ability to fix almost anything. His fun, loud laugh. His comfortableness with old people. His love for his children.

So when we butt heads or he growls about something I think is no big deal, I try to keep in perspective the big picture. That he’s a good man and has brought many good things to my life. That we’re committed to each other and God willing, we hope to finish the course. That this world is not our home, and one day we will be perfect people in a perfect place and the things that bothered us down here won’t be issues anymore.

Until then, we firmly believe through good days and bad that we have chosen and there are no other options.

When we said, "I do,"God said, "I did." And that’s good enough for me.

Roots by Billy Coffey

I was introduced to Billy Coffey who writes the blog, What I Learned Today by a fellow blogger. Billy has good insights, a way with words, and shares in an entertaining, refreshingly honest manner.

In keeping with the anniversary theme, I asked Billy if I could direct you his way to read a charming post he wrote on marriage. He graciously gave me permission to invite you over to his place to read Roots and whatever else strikes your fancy.

Thanks, Billy for sharing truth in such an easy to read way. Blessings on your writing.

A Cautionary Tale

Falling in love is risky business, the least of which is hoping you’ll like your new last name, should you get married. Twenty-five years ago I traded the perfectly normal, easy-to-spell, easy-to-pronounce "Taylor" for the tricky name of "Vik."

What’s tricky about Vik? It’s frequently misspelled "Vic" or "Vick." Add an "s and it sounds like a cough drop. The phonetically challenged say "Vike." People often call me Vicky, and no, we’re not related to Michael Vick.

We couldn’t name our son Nicholas or Richard because Nick and Rick rhyme with Vik. So does hick. But it could have been worse. Vik was shortened from an even trickier name. And therein lies my tale.

On May 11, 1912 Grandpa Vik left Norway at the tender age of twenty and sailed from Liverpool, England on the H.M.S. Mauritania with twenty dollars in his pocket. Family legend says Grandpa Vik was scheduled to sail on the Titanic but sold his ticket and traveled one month later.

At Ellis Island, he changed his name from "Johannes Vorpvik" to "John Vik." And Viks ever since have been thankful.

With all due respect to Norwegians, "Vorpvik," was outside the realm of my experience. I grew up in Northern California with Italians, Japanese, and Mexicans and thought last names like "Franceschi," "Taniguchi," and "Hernandez" were normal.

Grandpa settled in Irene, South Dakota and persuaded a young widow to trade her perfectly normal, easy-to-spell, easy-to pronounce name of "Johnson" for "Vik." But Marie, aware of his history, knew she had dodged a bullet and welcomed the shortened version.

If Grandpa Vik hadn’t come to America, or had sailed on the Titanic, or hadn’t changed his name, there wouldn’t have been a Keith Vik for me to marry and I might have ended up with Gary Mukaida and had Japanese children.

So the moral of the story is to only date men whose last name you like, or have them immigrate somewhere and change it.