Life...Under Construction

Breakthrough!

2012-01-27T19:53:00.002-05:00

She came downstairs, rubbing her eyes and yawning into the new morning. We met in the kitchen, and she said, “Mom, I keep having this recurring nightmare. It’s just awful. I want it to stop.”

“Can you tell me about it?” I asked. My antenna had gone up at the word recurring. I was really curious to hear what it was that her mind continued to play over and over as she slept.

Her first response was that she didn’t want to talk about it; too depressing. Then she just couldn’t help herself, I guess, and out it all came.

“It was a little different this time. This time the kids were in it with me….. We were in this … place … it was all concrete and it didn’t look like there was a way out; but somehow I could see through an opening or something, and I could see trees and grass and stuff.”

I began to cry, and she looked at me with a curious expression on her face. “What else?” I asked.

“Well, there was a war going on,” she told me. “At one point I was trapped at the old restaurant where I used to work and the only way to escape the enemy was to run across the street, through four lanes of traffic. And all my friends…well, not really friends—acquaintances, like I have on Facebook—were all getting killed. I was trying to get away, trying to make sure the boys were right with me and hang on to them. At one point Andre disappeared, but then I found him again.

“Then, all of a sudden, the kids and I were in a car. Nate was driving, for some reason, and I was in the backseat with the boys, and we were driving out of the concrete place. Then we just stopped. I was sitting in the backseat crying and some police officers came up to us. They handed us a box of chicken and said, ‘Here, eat this and we’ll take care of all this. Just sit still.’”

By now, I was crying really hard. Because God had answered a prayer I had prayed for YEARS for my daughter by giving her a dream.

I told her what I felt the dream meant (as in, the Holy Spirit gave me the insight). Where her life for years had felt “trapped” behind a wall, God was opening up the door and showing her a new life (the trees, grass, blue sky, etc.). It is a new and positive way of living that is going to affect not only her, but the boys as well. The “friends” dying means that there may be friendships she needs to give up, so that she doesn’t stay weighed down by them. And the fact that she had to fight the traffic to get away means it may not be so easy to give up some of the ways she lives or some of those friendships; but it may be necessary.

Why Nate was driving, I have no idea. But if you know Nate… well,‘nuff said.

Okay, so why is this dream such a big deal? I’ll tell you why. Remember who is telling you this, also, and if you know my personality very well at all, you know how fantastic it is what I am about to tell you.

Several years ago, God did something in my life that has never been repeated. He gave me dreams. Not just any dreams--you know, those random thoughts that pile up during the day and jumble together during the night. No, the dreams He gave were packed with meaning. And what is really special about that is that during this brief time He sent the dreams, He also sent the interpretation.

Now that you are thinking I’ve certainly lost my mind, let me tell you one of those dreams. This is the first time I think I’ve related this to anyone but my husband. When I told him, he cried, so I didn’t talk about it anymore.

The dream was about our daughter. She and I were in a large, well-lit room. I’m not exactly sure what we were doing—maybe talking—I don’t recall, and it’s not important. The point of the dream is that she suddenly went blank on me, as if she were in a trance. She turned and headed for a very long hall at the end of the room. The hall was dark—so dark. I got up and called to her, but she just kept walking. She walked out of that well-lit room and I watched her step into that dark hallway. I ran to the end of the lighted room and looked down the hall. I couldn’t see anything. It was pitch black. I watched and called for a few seconds, and then I woke up.

The understanding of the dream was immediate. I imagine you have it figured out yourself. Years did follow when the precious child that I had known disappeared behind the darkness, and I couldn’t find the soul of her. It made me sad then, and it still affects me as I tell it. For years I thought about this dream. For years I prayed that God would bring our girl out of the darkness. Just within the last week or so I was remembering my dream and praying the same prayer yet again.

So you see now why the dream Jenni had affected me so. It was the answer to years of prayers for her—a reminder that she had never been out of His sight and He was going to bless her; that He was making a way out from behind the wall and bringing her to it. And what is really, really so cool is that God gave the dream to her!

What followed after Jenni related the dream was a few moments of both of us crying as I assured her that her dream was actually a positive dream, even though it was frightening at points. Spiritual warfare is like that, isn’t it? Some moments seem hopeless, but then God gives us a glimpse of the victory ahead, and we pick up the sword again and continue the fight.

The battle isn’t over for Jenni. I’m confident it will continue to rage, because the enemy doesn’t take losing well. But the battle belongs to the Lord. It’s all for Him, it’s all about Him. Onward!

Yep, I’m still crying. Like you had to ask.

Sunday Sunday

2012-01-22T19:28:00.003-05:00

Here we are the beginning of another week. We are already almost finished with January. Can you believe it? This past week was not without its drama, but by now, my life would seem so meaningless if we didn't have some drama, you know?

Started out great. Jenni began her new job on Monday. She had been sick all weekend and rested as much as possible. Loaded herself up with medicine and headed out. I didn't work Monday, and the boys were out of school, so we hung out at the house.

Other than working out some afternoon details for the boys, we had it mostly figured out. Jenn seems to like the job, and it appears the other workers there like her.

Wednesday, Jenni ended up in the emergency room after describing symptoms that sounded very much like an aneurism in her head. Scary. He dad took her to Prime Care and then to the ER. That was about 3:30 in the afternoon. They got back home at 11:30 that night. Her cold from the weekend had become acute viral sinusitis, which caused her to experience a migraine headache. They gave her meds through an IV to take care of the headache, but told her she'd just have to load up on ibuprofen for the viral infection. She called her job and they let her come in late the next day. It appears her job is not in any danger. For this we thank God.

She still feels a little punk, but she's a trooper--keeps on moving forward. I'm proud of her.

****

Saturday, I spent the day washing clothes and doing some much-needed mending. That was actually fun. No, really. It was. I love being able to be in my house and get stuff done, and I've been needing to get that mending done for a while now.

Didn't get my nap today. After church, I had to get ready for a training session for the jail volunteers who work with our ministry. That kept me out of the house until 5 or so. Too late to take a nap. So I'll hang out and watch football for a little bit and then I'll just turn in early.

I know. Ho hum. But this is my life.

So what good can I accomplish this week? What sort of impression will I make? What witness will I leave with folks? Stay tuned.

Today, Life is Good

2012-01-14T08:17:00.000-05:00

I know, I know, life is always good. And you would be right to say so. I believe this.

But this day--today--is especially good. On this day, I have both of our children in our home. Josh and Mel are down visiting from the beautiful state of Pennsylvania; and Jenni, who is my precious girl, is here as well. Well, actually, Jenni and the boys live with us, so she's always here with me. And a blessing to have, I tell you. She knows how to get it done. So it's going to be a great weekend.

For the last nine months or so, Jenni has been without a job. She had a part-time thing that ended and then just couldn't find anything else. She was also in school at the technical college and taking care of her three boys. Lots of responsibility for a single mom--the same that many other single moms do every day. The good news in her life these days is this--in December she completed her studies in Accounting and will receive her Associates degree at her graduation in May 2012. She is rightly proud of herself for having accomplished this goal.

Then, just last week, she spent a day filling out job applications online. She called and told me she had sent out 13 of them. And within an hour of doing so, she had a phone call and an interview set up with one of the companies the very next day! After her SECOND interview with this company, she came to my work very excited and told me how hopeful it all sounded.

Then the waiting. Two days passed with no phone call. At one time I suggested that she might call them to check on their progress. She didn't want to do that, and after a moment's reflection, I realized we just had to let this be God's timing for it to be right. "When my anxious thoughts multiply within me, Your consolations delight my soul." (Psalm 94:18-20). So we waited some more; this time with a greater peace that God would handle it.

Yesterday, Friday the 13th, the call came, with the offer of a job. This is not a part-time job--this is a full fledged FULL-TIME, MONDAY THROUGH FRIDAY, with BENEFITS job! We haven't stopped rejoicing.

God has taken care of us so faithfully. He is our Great Comforter and Provider. Blessed be His Name.

And even if this job had not worked out, the same is true about God even then. I may not always understand why we wait so long for things (humanly speaking), but I know that God will ultimately provide. His timing is perfect, perfect, perfect.

Have a good day, my friends.

(Oh, and about that 13th thing, I'm not even close to superstitious. Folks would say that 13 is an unlucky number. Thirteen is just a number. For us, it was just a good old day!)

And So We Pray

2012-01-12T06:59:00.000-05:00

Jenn has been out of work for nearly a year now. With three boys to care for, this has been very difficult for her. And when you count "deadbeat" dads who don't support their children, or only throw a little money in the pot so they don't end up in jail, it just adds to the stress.

She went on a job interview a few days ago. It appears very promising. Please help us pray that job down for her. I have stormed the gates for several days now. I won't quit. It's actually a perfect job for her. It's also important to get her out there in the working world, not just for financial purposes, but for the importance of her self-belief. I KNOW she can do this job. I believe God to give her the opportunity. Please pray with me.

Saturday

2012-01-07T21:41:00.001-05:00

Even though I started off the weekend feeling bad from a cold, I got a few things done today. Let's see.... I cleaned the kitchen, washed a couple loads of clothes, straightened the dining room and living room, cleaned out a closet. All the time feeling like I was functioning inside a barrel.

Ugh.

A New Phone

2012-01-05T21:19:00.000-05:00

I was going to buy a new phone tonight after work. I walked into the Verizon store, where it appeared three young men were on duty. They had customers, so I walked around the store, looking for the particular phone I wished to purchase. One of the customers left. I continued walking around the store, looking at the phones, waiting for someone to speak. Even a simple, "Good evening. Someone will be with you in a few minutes." But I got nothing. The fella who finished with his customer walked over to another one of the guys and began talking to him. It was as if I were invisible. I waited yet another minute and then left. Oh, well. Maybe I'll try a different store tomorrow. Maybe Verizon's business is so good they don't need my business or something. Hmm.

****Telephone update: went online and took advantage of their deals. Got a Droid x2 for $50, which everyone assures me is a great deal. So there, little bored boys in the store! I probably got a better deal online. Hmmph! :-P

Staff Meetings

2012-01-03T20:55:00.001-05:00

Today we had our weekly staff meeting. It took about an hour to complete the business part of the meeting, and then the senior chaplain asked us to share where we were with God these days; how God was working in our lives as we entered the new year.

I shared with them my desire to leave an "impression" (see article below) on the world that points folks not to me but to Jesus. The other chaplain at the meeting remarked how very interesting it was that I should say that, because he was currently reading a book in which one of the chapters discussed impressions we leave. He decided to repeat an exercise talked about in the book and just the day before began writing his obituary. The other lady in our group talked about a book she was reading entitled Finishing Well and the thoughts she was developing as she read. Finally our senior chaplain shared what was happening in his life and the way that God was working.

As I sat there with these fine folks, it occurred to me that not everyone has such an opportunity as I have had the last year. I love my job! My co-workers have become good friends. They truly care about each other. I am able to pray on my job--in fact, it is the first responsibility I have each morning, as I call inmates to join me in prayer in the chapel. I can hand out Bibles. We get to tell guys that the community cares for them with the love of Jesus as we hand out socks, tee shirts, coats, and other clothing. By sharing Jesus with them, we offer hope for a better/different way of living once the guys leave the facility.

I also really enjoy watching the chaplains interact with the guys. They are so obviously called to what they do, and it shows in the care they exhibit.

My job is a lot of work, but it's meaningful work. Right up my alley. Love it, love it, love it.

I'm a lucky girl.

Impression

2012-01-01T18:44:00.000-05:00

Several weeks ago, our Wednesday evening service was centered around a prayer labyrinth. Don't get all hung up on the word "labyrinth." We just followed some taped lines in our chapel to different "stations". At each station we focused on a particular aspect of prayer. Every station, every thought centered around our relationship with Jesus. Is He the center of my praise, have I properly forgiven those in my life who have hurt me so that the name of Jesus is magnified; is the person inside of me the same as the person I show the world about who Jesus is, or am I doing a really good job of faking it? Lots of opportunity to examine my heart and motives.

As I was nearing the end of the prayer time, I came to Station 11. It was entitled "Impression." After taking off my shoes and leaving my footprints in a box of sand, I then was asked the following questions... "What will be left of me when I've left? What traces will I leave? Will the evidence be compelling? What will the surviving witnesses say? Will their world be better because of what I did in my present? What will history say of me when I am history, too?"

Okay, now, before you go off on how that is so "me-centered," let me tell you that I know that it could very easily become that way. If we are honest, don't we all wonder from time to time if our lives have made any difference at all in the lives of those in our world? Is anything we have done going to leave positive results for them? I certainly wonder. Maybe it's a girl thing. I don't think so, though. I would venture to guess that the reason many men work so hard is so that when they are gone, their world can talk about what a wonderful provider he was; how great a guy! Yep, that evening could have easily become an "all about me" exercise.

What happened--for me, at least--was that I was struck motionless with the notion that I might actually leave this world and not have left a single "trace" of the Savior I serve in my wake.

I wrote a poem once that went like this:

Someday my life will be no more
And I wonder
Will anyone knock on my door
To mourn my passing?

More than that... will any impression of the Savior I served be left from my life? Will anyone be able to say they knew Jesus better because of my witness? I'm quite aware that my life is only a small ripple and that others' lives make huge waves with their witness. I don't need to have my name up in lights or be known world-wide; I simply do not wish to meet Jesus with empty hands. I'm not looking for accolades here--not my intention at all. This is just the way I want to begin and continue the year 2012...contemplating ways to make sure Jesus is known and God is praised because of the way I live my life. The older I get and the more I learn, the more convinced I become of this truth--that has always been there, but just lately truly taking root in my life--it really is all about Him.

This morning's sermon was from Luke 5:1-11. My husband titled it "Getting Back to Basics." The main points of the sermon were these: Our first responsibility as Christians is to glorify God. Our second responsibility is to become fishers of men. Jesus told Peter, Andrew, James and John, "...from now on you will be catching men." This is what He has called us to do.

My desire, my prayer is that 2012 will be the year of leaving HIS "impression" on the lives of those in my world and catching lots of "fish."

January 1, 2012

2012-01-01T08:57:00.003-05:00

Good morning! Well, we made it safely through the night. I waited up for Jenni and the little boys to get home, and then we all turned in about 1:30am. It's going to be a beautiful day today. Heading out to worship in a while and then home to a nice, quiet afternoon. At some point, I have to take down the Christmas decorations. Does anybody else groan over doing that? I really enjoy seeing them up each year, but taking them down is such a chore.

A BIG shout-out must go to my precious daughter, Jenni, for getting our decorations up this year. If she hadn't done that, I'm not sure they would have been put up at all. December is a very busy month at the ministry where I work, and I didn't get a real break until about December 23 to do much of anything else. I'm pretty sure that I'm not going to get her to take them all down, though, so I guess I'll be doing that today and/or tomorrow.

Time to get ready for church now.

2012

2012-01-01T00:24:00.002-05:00

The new year began with a time of fellowship and prayer with our church family. A sweet time.

Driving back into our neighborhood, we were greeted with the sounds of gunfire. It's our area's version of fireworks. It scared our dog so bad he ran under the table and hid. The only way he would go out was for me to stand right beside him in the yard. I have to tell you, it was a teeny bit unnerving. And just seconds ago, the sounds were not only very loud, but very close. I honestly feel the urge to cut off all our lights and sit on the floor.

I used to write my thoughts in a diary. In the last few years I've not done a good job of that. But since I'm on the computer every day, I will make an attempt to write my thoughts for each day here on the blog site.

So what will this year bring? It's going to be interesting to see. Stay tuned.

Cousins

2011-12-26T16:59:00.003-05:00

Among the great and happy memories of my childhood are my cousins. They were an inheritance from my step-father. He had three sisters, and they had children. I met them just shortly after my mother married my step-dad, and we stayed a day or two at one of the aunt’s houses while they went away—maybe for a honeymoon—that part I don’t remember.

Here’s what I do remember; lots and lots of fun. I don’t remember a single time ever that my cousins were around that we didn’t have a blast. In the winter, we rode sleds down the road in front of our house. In the summer we hiked the woods behind our house, or we rode horses. When we first moved into our developing neighborhood, we spent an evening climbing all over the skeleton of the house next door, playing hide and seek, throwing dirt clots at each other.

I still remember the anticipation when the cousins were coming over. The family went into high gear, getting the house straight, preparing the food, heating up the grill outside for the hotdogs and burgers. I also remember the freedom we older girls experienced once the cousins arrived. Whereas we were normally expected to help care for the younger siblings as part of our daily responsibilities, when the cousins came over there were enough adults around to take care of the babies, and we older kids were allowed (and quite probably encouraged) to go outside and play. I don’t know that anyone ever checked on us to see what we were up to—though they probably did. I don’t remember ever having to be told to go outside to play; it’s just what we did when we got together.

As we moved into our early teen years, our interests changed. We replaced hiking in the woods, croquet, and sledding down the street with showing off our latest dance moves, roller skating around our wide-open basement, occasionally going to movies; and because we were “kissing” cousins, even going out on dates as we got older.

Yep, the times I spent with my cousins still makes me smile. They were such happy, carefree times. We didn’t communicate on a daily basis—sometimes we went months without seeing each other. Then they’d come to our house, or we’d go over to see them, or travel to Pennsylvania to visit, and it was like we just picked up the conversation where we had left off.

The last time I saw my cousins was at a family reunion several years ago. The glow of all the fun was still there as we reminisced. Lots of years had passed since our childhoods, and that day we also spent time discussing our families—wives, children, grandchildren. Time had rolled on, and we had grown up. Life had done its usual thing--some good times, some sad times, some bad times. But nothing—and I mean nothing—will ever take away the memories of those growing up years and all the fun we had together. I sure do love those cousins.

Out of The Mouths...

2011-10-30T23:31:00.003-05:00

This morning as we were preparing for church, Jenni was lying on the bed with Andre, and she had him all wrapped up in her arms.

"I love this little boy so much," she said.

Without hesitation, Andre asked her, "If you love me so much, why don't you come to church with me?"

Guess who was in the pew with her family this morning?

Intensity

2011-10-30T23:20:00.003-05:00

Intensity. The title of the first book I ever read by Dean Koontz. And the story matched the title. But that’s not the intensity to which I refer in this blog.

In case I never mentioned this before, I have three grandsons. Oh, I did mention that? Sorry. Anyway, the three of them are very different. Little man Andre is spoiled, and even though he rarely gets his way by doing so, he still screams us into insanity on a regular basis, hoping against hope that this time we will let him have his way. Philip, my middle man, has a sweet personality, but he has this extremely annoying habit of talking to himself, non-stop, and mostly gibberish. Nate, the first man, is a study all to himself. And he is the subject I wish to address for the rest of our time together.

Nate is 11 years old. When he was born, he was born with a “sad” soul. I’m not kidding. As an infant, we would take him to church. It didn’t take many notes into the organ music before his little self was crying. I had mixed feelings about that—at once I thought it funny, a bit embarrassing (that he cried over the musician’s playing), and disconcerting. Deep inside, I had this foreboding that his reaction had something to do with his personality makeup, and somewhere down the road, it wasn’t going to be “good.” Well, friends and neighbors, that day has come. Actually, it’s been heading in this direction for a while, but last week it became clear it was time to get some help for this kid.

Right off, let me make something clear here. I don’t like the fact that so many parents put their kids into therapy these days. I don’t like the fact that adults get their own lives so screwed up that it messes up their kids, who end up needing that therapy. I don’t like the idea of a child being diagnosed and “labeled.” I don’t like any of that. But more than that, I have spent lots of sleepless moments wondering at what point a child that I love will get desperate enough to try to hurt himself or someone else.

Nate is angry. He feels cheated that he has to share the grownups in his life with his brothers. He’s angry that he isn’t as close to his brothers as they are to each other. He feels abandoned by a deadbeat dad who shows up for a month every other year or so, making big promises he never keeps and then who disappears back into his hole for another couple of years. Yeah, I know. Tell him to get over himself; get a grip; just grow up. Actually, that is what we are telling him--with the help of someone who can help us help him, and who can help him learn to deal with his depression and his moods.

I know a lot about the nature of Nate. The reason I know is because he shares a lot of the personality traits that I had as a child. He’s the first born. He’s smart. He’s independent-natured. He thinks he knows the better way to do a thing, over suggestions offered by just about anyone. Okay, okay, by anyone at all. He is very intense. He gets focused on something—anything—and off he goes. Many times, he walks into a room and states that he is going to do thus and such and launches into a dialog about how he will accomplish this goal. No matter what the topic, the game, the event—he has to be in charge of what is going on. I get that. It’s a control thing. He feels out of control of his life, and because he is intelligent, he is hard-pressed to understand why he has to let anyone be in “charge” of him. For me, being in charge was how I controlled the chaos around me as a child. I tell you the truth, it doesn’t win friends on a regular basis. The only trait we don’t share is depression, which I’ve never experienced on long-term basis. I can mostly talk myself out of depression. Some folks aren’t as fortunate as that.

When you put all these traits into one body, you end up with a potentially irritating personality. I don’t need to remind you how much I love this boy, do I? He’s my heart-child. But his personality, combined with the anger that he carries around inside of him, could be bad news. It is most certainly maddening to try to sympathize with, that is for sure.

Anyway, I get this kid. But what's going on inside of him is something we have to deal with--either now through therapy, or later through some other means. I vote for now.

stuck to the floor

2011-08-23T21:45:00.002-05:00

do you ever feel that even though you are standing upright and looking like you got it all together, that your soul is actually splatted all over the floor--a total mess, blubbering incoherently?

no?

maybe it's just me.

Sometimes

2011-07-27T19:57:00.002-05:00

It was an answer to prayer. God had confirmed it to me. So why didn’t it work out? ……..

Many years ago I read a book written by the wife of a pastor. In the book, she relates the story of when she and her husband were temporarily living with the family of one of their churches. The pastor’s family was very poor and couldn’t even afford to buy stamps for their letters, so she prayed that God would supply her with stamps so that she could send a letter to her parents.

One day, shortly after her prayer, their host family received some mail with several postage stamps tucked inside the envelope—ten or so. The pastor’s wife knew that her prayer had just been answered and began secretly rejoicing, while the recipient of the stamps did a happy dance around the room. After rejoicing, the woman took the stamps and tucked them back inside the envelope and put the envelope away. She did not offer one to the pastor’s wife. This caused the pastor’s wife to question why God had gotten her so close to her answer and then it had not come to be.

After several days of contemplation, she came to this conclusion—when God answers our prayers and other people are involved in the answer, they must also be open to God’s leading and willing to respond. If not, then we must wait on the answer to come to us in a different way. Perhaps the other woman had heard God whisper to share her bounty of stamps, but had just ignored the urging. Whatever the reason, it brought the pastor’s wife comfort to know that God had answered her prayer, and even though she did not receive the blessing of a stamp, she did receive the blessing of knowing God was listening to her.

I won’t go into the details, but I’m there. And even though it’s taken me a few days to do so, I accept it. It doesn’t take away the disappointment I feel, but I trust God. His grace is sufficient. And, after all, it's all about HIM.

Can't Sleep

2011-07-12T02:59:00.005-05:00

I just can't sleep tonight. So much going on these days, you'd think I'd be exhausted. But what I do is start thinking about the next batch of things to get done and then I'm awake.

Other things, too. Things I've told other family members not to dwell on and fret over, because the chances of some of the stuff happening is only 50/50 at best; yet here I sit, unable to sleep for the very same reason. I should learn to practice what I preach.

Vacation Bible School this week, Sunday through Thursday. So I'm leaving work, heading over to the church and setting up for that. Then home and get ready to do it all over again tomorrow. The being able to sleep part would help immensely at this point.

At work, I'm trying to cram two weeks' worth of work into this week, as I'll be at youth camp next week. So many things to be sure I get done. AND I have to work Sunday for about three hours. Then I have to pack for camp.

Well, everyone's life is busy.

I plan to spend some time in August saying "NO" and doing as little as possible.

From there I plan to begin downsizing my responsibilities. My job takes a little more time than my old job, with having to work the occasional weekend as well as working a little later in the day. I love the job, so I don't mind the hours, but I'm finding at my age that I just can't do as much as well as I'd prefer. Sometimes I forget the simplest things, and it's just because there is so much to try and remember.

So I have to begin saying, "sorry, I just can't do it," and letting someone else have the privilege--or it just doesn't get done. If it's important enough, hopefully someone will accept the challenge. If not, it just won't get done, I guess. I simply must slow down.

*****************

On another note, Dave is preaching through the book of Nehemiah right now. I've just finished reading the book, and I can understand why he likes this story. Nehemiah was quite an admirable person. A man who trusted God, wanted to honor God, and who wasn't afraid to stand up for the right things. Even with all the lists of names, which are so easy to get bogged down in, it's a great story of a man who truly loved God. Those names were important to God, just as mine is. That's a comforting thought.

Guess I'll go try to sleep again. I have to be up in two hours to get ready for work.

It's all about HIM...

A Letter to My Husband

2011-07-03T18:25:00.004-05:00

As part of my husband's anniversary gift, I wrote him a letter which I read during our worship service this morning. He was completely surprised. Here is the letter:

July 3, 2011

Dear Dave,

When I was a little girl, I dreamed of one day being married. I thought it would be cool to be married to a military man, and then after the Lord saved me, I changed my focus and thought how cool it might be to be married to a preacher.

Well, thirty-five years ago on this date, God combined both of those girlish thoughts into one person, and we stood before our pastors, families and friends and repeated our vows. I don’t really remember all that was said that day, do you? Still, it was a beautiful day, and the beginning of the best years of my life.

I’ve thought of so many things I’d like to say as we celebrate this day, but no matter what I do say, it can’t possibly ever reflect all that is in my heart, but let me try and put some of it in words.

We met on a blind date, but we both acknowledge that God arranged our meeting. Six weeks after we met, we were engaged, and five months after we were engaged, we were married. Kind of a whirlwind, but we just knew that we were supposed to be married, so why waste time?

I took my wedding dress out of the closet the other day, thinking I might just try it on. Guess what? It fit! My leg. Seems we’ve both “grown” over the years, in more ways than one. Oh, well...Maybe for our 50th.

I’ve learned some things from you, too, over these last years:
I’ve learned to take a joke, to laugh at myself, to laugh at you—you are so funny!
I’ve learned that the best marriages don’t always have an easy road, but by holding tight to each other and trusting God, the rough road is easier to navigate.
I’ve learned that when one of us is having a bad day, the other is the strength that gets us through it.
I’ve learned that, even though you aggravate me to pieces because you take so long sometimes to make a decision, that you are carefully thinking through every angle, considering how to make the best decision for your family. And I appreciate and love you for that.
I’ve learned that life with the right person can be amazing—and fun!
I’ve learned that little girls should keep their dream alive of marrying their knight in shining armor, because he does exist.

Thirty of our married years have been in the pastoral ministry, and you have been my pastor.
I admire you because you love the Word of God and treat it with respect and are so careful with your teaching.
I’ve learned some Greek and Hebrew meanings, and have come to appreciate the richness and depth of the Word because of your teaching.
I love just sitting and discussing Bible stuff with you.

I am thankful that God brought us together. He gave us two beautiful children. We raised them in the faith and trusted God to help us be the best parents we could be. Now, we are doing our best to raise our grandsons the same.

I’ve never wondered if you were coming home to me at the end of the day. I’ve never doubted your fidelity or your commitment.

In the words of a song I just recently heard:

“I wouldn’t change a thing. It’s perfectly imperfect. So crazy, but it’s worth it…. I’m truly, deeply, madly, completely devoted to you. Until my last breath, I’m yours. Something tells me even if I could I wouldn’t change a thing.”

I love you.

Happy Anniversary.

(At lunch, he prayed and asked God to forgive me for telling so many lies in church. He's so funny!)

Staff Retreat April 11-15, 2011

2011-04-25T22:46:00.001-05:00

Click here to view these pictures larger

I'm Sorry, What Did You Say? I Was Reading....

2011-02-10T13:40:00.001-05:00

When I was very young, I remember my aunt reading to me and trying to teach me the alphabet. She was only two years older than I, but I still remember her little self being the teacher. Other than that, I don’t remember anyone ever reading to me as a child (if you remember differently, sisters, please let me know). It didn’t stop me though, and I began my life-long love affair with books in the third grade. That was the year I discovered Laura Ingalls Wilder’s Little House on the Prairie books in our school library.

The library at Arcadia Elementary School was located in the basement. I can still feel the anticipation I experienced each week as we lined up and walked down the wooden halls of the school to the library. Immediately upon entering, I would head straight for the section where Laura’s books were shelved and scoop up the next book in the series.

And off I’d go into my private little world, devouring book after book after book.

Since the third grade, I’ve read so many books I often get two or three chapters into one before a phrase or the action of the story reminds me that this is one I’ve already digested at some point or other. My husband used to tell our children, “Say goodbye to your mother for a day or two, now; she’s starting a new book!”

There is something about reading that is almost magical. It’s as if one is able to transport themselves into another realm. I really get into reading—I cry, I laugh, I get angry at a character’s behavior. I sigh when a book ends, reluctant to turn that last page and close the story. Occasionally, I’ve read a book that caused me to re-read the last page or chapter over several times, simply because it ended either too abruptly (like, where did the rest of the story go?), or the twist of it left me open-mouthed and incredulous, or the end was so haunting that I just couldn’t let it go. Yes, I love to read books.

From the very moment they were born, I either read to our children or told them made-up stories. One of their favorite was the story I told of how God had woven them together when they lived inside of me. I told Josh how God had used his darkest ink to create those black-brown eyes he has, and I told Jenni how God had fun and dropped a head full of blonde hair on her, so people would say, “Where did all that blonde hair come from?” I told them how God had knit their little toes onto their feet and commented on how special they were as He worked. They loved it and so did I.

Their father told them stories, too, about Fuema the Mouse. He’d sit on their bed at bedtime and share his stories as their eyes glistened with enjoyment. Nowadays he tells our grandsons stories about Hoppy Joe the Frog—all out of his imagination. It’s fun to watch them sit spellbound--as did their mother many years ago--as he weaves his story together, full of adventure and special characters and life lessons.

It caught. Josh was the first to love reading. I remember when he was a pre-teen; he’d mow grass in order to buy the Dallas O’Neal book series. A few years later it was the books by Frank Peretti. I can recall many nights that I’d get up in the wee hours of the morning to find him deep into a book. I’d tell him he needed to rest; he’d tell me he just had to finish this chapter. His love for reading transferred over into poetry, writing and songwriting. He still writes now, and very well, I might say.

Jenni didn’t begin to love reading until about the sixth or seventh grade. All of a sudden, it was if she couldn’t read enough. She also spent many hours reading Frank Peretti, among the vast library of books she consumed. I remember one summer she read about 20 books, picking up a new one almost as quickly as she closed the cover of the old one. She still loves to read even now. Since December she has read 12 or 13 books, standing at the counter while she cooks supper, or lying on the bed while the boys play in another room, or while she’s waiting for the clothes dryer to stop.

I told my children, and now my grandchildren—when you read you can go anywhere. The places you travel and the sights you see when you read produce an active imagination. It’s a tradition I hope to pass on to the grands, just as I was blessed to be able to pass it on to our children.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, the new Dean Koontz book just arrived in the mail, and it’s calling my name.

Toby Mac and God things.....

2010-12-10T14:42:00.005-05:00

Took grandson number one to the Toby Mac concert last night. It is part of his Christmas gift this year. We were both excited as coud be, and doubly so because I had been able to get us seats on the floor.

On the way into the Coliseum, Nate scooped up a piece of paper lying on the ground. It turned out to be someone's ticket. We checked the name and planned to leave it at the ticket window on our way in. A few seconds later we saw this guy walking out the doors and down the sidewalk. "Nate," I said, "ask him if he's (whatever the name was)." So Nate did, and lo, and behold, it was! He was so grateful! It had fallen out of the pocket of one of his teens. Can you imagine getting all the way to the show and then not being able to go in, or having to pay for the ticket all over? We took that as a sign that the evening was going to be a good one.

We got there with 20 minutes to spare and found our seats. Pretty cool. Not too far from stage and the last seats on the row. We thought we were in for a real treat. Unfortunately, when the opening act began the evening, we discovered a problem of major proportions. Everyone stood up. Nate is only ten; he couldn't see over any heads. We tried standing him in a chair, but the usherette told him he couldn't do that. So we moved into the aisle a little and a couple minutes later were told we couldn't stand there.

After about ten minutes, Nate very quietly said, "Grandma, I don't want to seem ungrateful, but I sure wish we didn't have seats on the floor."

I wished we didn't either. His little face looked so disappointed that it was breaking my heart. Not being one to just decide nothing can be done, I decided to do something (does this surprise anyone?). I took Nate's hand and we went up the steps to the middle section. We walked until I found an usher and explained the situation.

She was very understanding. They had already had a couple other folks with the same problem, she told me. She also told me to never get a floor seat again. That won't ever need repeating, I promise you.

After some radio communications back and forth, we were escorted to a seat on the middle section directly facing the stage. We sat through Skillet, who did a great light and smoke show, but I'm not particularly fond of the guttural scream, so I didn't really enjoy them.

At the intermission, we moved to the end of our row so Nate could see a little better. About 9pm, Toby Mac started, and my little guy was on his feet, singing every word to the songs, dancing as much as he can (he's sort of rhythmically challenged), and just enjoying himself to pieces. He stood a bit out in the aisle, because the guy in front of him was a big guy.

About ten minutes into the show, an usherette showed up and spoke directly to Nate. I thought she was telling him to step out of the aisle, but he looked at me and yelled, "SHE TOLD US TO FOLLOW HER!" I grabbed up our coats and followed her... six rows down to a really empty space in the seating, where she gave us permission to sit. Nate was ecstatic! About halfway through the show, he shouted, "THIS IS THE BEST CHRISTMAS PRESENT EVER!" Made my heart feel good.

On the way home, we talked about the seating problem and how it had finally been solved. We thanked God for His blessing to us that evening. It was a great object lesson for him, and one I hope he remembers for a while.

...And God said, "Wait."

2010-12-03T21:16:00.006-05:00

In 2007 my work-life changed. In a month's time, I went from being the office manager of a business to being a member of a corporation where my particular position of "all-around, every aspect of the job" did not exist...and I became a customer service representative. Now, don't get me wrong, there is absolutely nothing disrespectful about being a csr; it requires a particular skill set if you intend to be good at your job. Honestly, I think I did okay in that position. There was just one problem... I hated it. Pure and simple. Hated. It. I won't go into all the reasons I didn't like this position, because that's not the purpose of this note.

What I want to tell you is how my Father, the Lover of my soul, was at work. See, I prayed...a lot.... for God to get me out of there. I was never at work for very long on any day that my stress levels weren't off the charts. I just could not see myself ending my career in that position, so I prayed every single day for God to get me out of there. For three years. The last few months of that three years my stomach burned all the time, and I had frequent headaches.

I looked for other jobs. But folks these days in this economy aren't eager to hire someone my age, so nothing ever came from my search. At least, that was how I thought it was going down.

I'm not sure exactly what precipitated it. I became convicted, or something might have been said in a sermon; I really don't know, and why it happened is not important. I just know that one morning it occurred to me that I was being faith-less and unfaithful. I was so busy complaining about how much I hated my job, that I forgot my responsibility to be a light to my "world." So I repented. I told God that if I was to be there until the day I retired, with His help, I would do it unto Him. I still felt stressed, my stomach still burned, and I still hated it. But on the outside, I really did make the effort. I was cooperative and helped where needed, and I made sure I exhibited a good attitude.

One day I received a text from my husband that said a local ministry was looking for an administrative assistant. Resumes were due in four days, and he was bringing home the paperwork that evening. "You better look into this," his text said. "Sounds perfect for you." That evening, when I read the THREE-page description of the job, I went right to work, updating my resume and getting it in the mail. Dave was right--it just seemed perfect! I also continued praying a whole lot! I prayed as I kissed the envelope when I put it in the mailbox, and I prayed as I drove up to my job every day. I prayed every afternoon as I checked the mail.

Somewhere deep inside I felt like I already had the job. I know, that sounds weird, but it's true. It was just a watch and wait time, coupled with--you got it--praying without ceasing.

The letter came in the mail. I got all excited. It said we got lots of resumes and we are working through them and you may hear from us in the near future to set up an interview date. I put the letter down and got up the next day and went back to my job, proper attitude intact. Waited some more.

Two weeks later, I got a phone call from Chaplain Rodney Stilwell, asking me to come in for an interview the next week.

It was the absolute worst interview I ever had.

I was nervous as a cat. I did not feel confident at all, and I couldn't read the faces of the folks in the room. When I left that evening, I knew that whatever else happened, I had just completely lost any chance of ever getting that job. That was Tuesday evening.

On Wednesday evening, Chaplain Stilwell called me at home. Said he would like to have me come in for a second interview and what evening was best for me. We set a time for Monday evening. I hung up the phone, completely full of wonder--as in, "I wonder if this man is deaf and didn't hear a single word I stumbled over last evening?" The chaplain suggested I check out their website and learn as much as I could about the ministry. He also suggested I pray. Hmmm, prayer.... If he only knew.

On Monday evening, we met and ended up talking for THREE hours, and I'm pretty sure it would have lasted longer, except my phone kept vibrating and when I finally looked at it, the message said, "Husband patrol heading out the door to find his wife if he doesn't hear from her in the next five minutes." We had a good laugh over that, and I went home.

The next time I saw Chaplain Stilwell, he met me for lunch and offered me the job as the Administrative Assistant to the Forsyth Jail and Prison Ministries. The next day I gave my letter of resignation to my job, and the rest, as they say, is history.

Here's the thing. God let me wait for the job of my dreams until I accepted that I might not ever get it. Is that mean of God? No, it is not. It was important for me to remember that God is in control, and He still knows my name. No one can meet my needs but Him...not even the best job in the world. And I needed to know that before I moved anywhere, or if I never moved anywhere. I needed the reminder that it's not about me, it's about Him; and it's about How I represent Him wherever I am.

My new job? I love it! It's fast-paced, non-stop activity from the time I get in until the time I go home. Even so, my stomach doesn't burn anymore, and as busy as it is, I don't suffer from stress. It's the absolute perfect job, combining my administrative skills with a ministry that affects the lives of other people for the better. And God gave it to me. Because my name is inscribed on His hand; because He is the Lover of my soul; because my Father wants to give His child the good and perfect gift.

Your name is written there, too. His great gifts are waiting for you. His love is never-ceasing. I pray you know this about Him.

Fluttering Wings and the Milky Way

2010-11-24T07:52:00.003-05:00

A couple weeks ago, between my old job and my new job, hubby and I spent a couple nights at the mountain home of some friends. It was also the last weekend of Dave's five-week sabbatical from the church, and we consider it to have been the perfect way to end his time off.

When we arrived on Thursday afternoon, we spent a while with our friends and then they left to go back to their home in town. The first thing hubby and I did was sit on the porch. The weather was perfect, and the sky was the most beautiful blue. We could see for miles from the front and the back porches.

It was so quiet. Not in an eery way, but a comfortable silence. Unwilling to break that silence, we sat without conversation watching the birds at the birdfeeder and looking at the mountains. At one point we looked at each other with a sort of awe on our faces. It was so quiet as we sat that we could actually hear the flutter of the birds wings as they flew from tree to tree and tree to feeder. The sound was a rich, almost comforting flutter--sort of like when you fluff a sheet as you put it on your bed. I've watched birds for a couple years now, and I can't say that I ever heard them before.

I enjoyed the porch a few more minutes and then I went inside and took a long nap on the couch. When I awoke, it was getting dark outside. Hubby and I went down the road to get some supper and then headed back to the house.

In the mountains--at least on this night--the sky is absolutely stunning. The air seems cleaner, the sky appears clearer, and the stars really show themselves off. Dave stepped outside to look at the sky and a few seconds later called me to join him. Pointing straight overhead, he pointed out the Milky Way. It was perfectly clear! And it was just beautiful. We stood outside a few more minutes, admiring the handiwork of God, Dave pointing out other star patterns, until it got too cold.

It was so quiet up there, it was almost worshipful. It was also very restful. We slept well those two nights.

For the blessing of that weekend, we are grateful--to our dear friends who shared their home with us and for the reminder from God of the beauty He created just for us to enjoy. God has richly blessed us.

Someday

2010-11-06T09:29:00.004-05:00

Someday my life will be no more
And I wonder
Will anyone knock at my door
To mourn my passing?

Will it all be just about me
They reminisce about?
Or did my Jesus they see
Which was truly my desire?

(working on it a verse at a time)

Vacation .... and Stuff

2010-10-29T09:30:00.006-05:00

This is the last full day of a week-long vacation hubby and I had down here at Emerald Isle. It's been restful, for sure. We've only gone out to eat once, and the rest of the time we've just lain around reading, snacking, playing with the puppy (well, hubby played with the puppy), and watching t.v. The weather has cooperated, for the most part...had a couple of rainy days. But considering how little we did, the weather wasn't really a factor.

So today my friend Terrie is coming here and the three of us are going fishing off the pier. Yes, you read that right, I am going fishing. Not something I like to do, but I am doing it to spend time with her. Terrie loves to fish, so there you go. Hubby is going with us to try and keep me from planting a fish hook in someone's behind or otherwise making a total idiot of myself. He's a good guy. I like him a lot.

In other news, when I return home, I will work my final week for the company I've been with for the last three years (ten, if you count the seven I was with the other janitorial supply company). I'm not a job-hopper; I take my work very seriously, but I have felt for some time now (like maybe the last three years or so) that this is not the job from which I wish to retire or upon which I wish to end my career.

The good news is that in three weeks I begin a new position with a ministry here in town. I will be the administrative assistant for the Forsyth Jail and Prison Ministries, a local ministry to prisoners here in the state. My main position is to be the support for the chaplains and outreach ministers, a position for which I am comfortable. I am so looking forward to this new "notch" in my career belt, and can easily see myself staying with this until I do retire. I honestly feel that God put this job in my path and is blessing me with it.

Tomorrow it's back home for puppy and me. Dave is going on to a different location for a few more days of R&R and will be home later in the week. I've got to get back to the world of work and helping Jen with the boys.

In other news, it's time to do some de-cluttering, so I hope to spend some time cleaning out closets and drawers in my home and holding the end of all yard sales in a couple of weeks. If y'all are in the area, watch for the date and come on out! Because at 1pm, I will have the Rescue Mission truck on my property loading up everything that didn't sell and hauling it off. I never take yard sale items back inside my house. Y'all come!

Empty Nest, Interrupted

2010-10-17T19:07:00.006-05:00

It was wonderful while it lasted.

Three years ago, when our daughter moved into her own home with the boys, I wasn't sure I'd make it. I missed them, and I worried about them. Over time, though, we got used to them being gone. It was right that Jenni and the boys should be in their own home.

Life settled into a comfortable pace for us. I came home each evening to a house that was in the same condition as when I left it that morning. I also had a chance to decompress from work without walking into a different maelstrom at the house.

That all changed about a month ago. A very tearful daughter showed up at our house on a Sunday evening, distressed and afraid. It appeared that the situation at her apartment, which she was sharing with her boyfriend (!), had gotten uncomfortable. Within three days, she and boys had moved back in our house. Let the party begin!

It took a couple of weeks for us to fully accept that we were no longer going to enjoy a nice, quiet evening for a while. Readjusting to the new house dynamics was a challenge for all the adults. The kids, on the other hand, were celebrating the bigger space and the stress-free ability to now be kids.

But you know what? It's a bump in the empty-nest season that I can live with. When I go to sleep at night now, I know that my daughter and my grandsons are SAFE. I know that she's not being kept up until the wee hours of the morning by an alcoholic, narcissitic man who doesn't care about her responsibilities or how she'll be able to function with so little sleep, just so that he can rant about some perceived "disrespect" to him. I know that my grandsons aren't being stuck in a little bedroom with a t.v. for a babysitter, because he's busy with his noisy friends in their living room; or because they just don't like being around him. My little grandsons can now speak to their mother without having to watch out of the corner of their eye to see how he's going to react.

Empty-nesting is great. We'll get back to that. Hopefully, when that happens for us, we will also sleep well knowing that the kids are all in a better situation.

It's all good.

Upcoming Articles.....

2010-09-20T07:49:00.001-05:00

Empty Nest, Interrupted
Psalm 124 - IF God had not...

Stay tuned

Summer Camp 2010

2010-08-16T15:16:00.004-05:00

For several years, I begged three or four of the young men in our church youth group to go to camp with us. Their excuses were creative and varied, but bottom line was, they didn’t think camp was “for” them. Now, these are good kids, every one. They have grown up in church, attend a Christian school, are active in sports, have jobs. These fellas competed in Bible Drill competitions and constantly came away winners—good kids.

Bored kids.

In my heart, I felt that if they could be removed from their comfortable environments, where they were admired and loved by everyone (no kidding—they are), that they might possibly be challenged to stretch beyond that boredom. So, I never quit begging. Finally, in January this year, they all agreed to go to camp this ONE time, just for me (so I’d shut up!). I didn't care what their reason was. I didn’t care that their moms had possibly ganged up on them. I just didn’t care why--I was ecstatic that they were going. I began praying immediately. I constantly reminded them how happy I was they were going to camp. "It's going to be such a great time," I told them.

Camp came, and the first three days of camp, the guys played along, but I could sense they weren't really getting into it. God was at work, of course, and things were going on in the background that I didn't know about. One of the guys made fun of his counselor, how he was so silly and "out there." However, during their Bible study time early in the week, this counselor had shared his testimony with his group, and my guy heard about a life of pain and abuse that he could only imagine in his perfect world. It began to work on his soul.

One of the fellas stepped out of his comfort zone and reached out to one of the shy-est kids in our group. It was not something he might do in another world, but he acted in the moment, and came away a better person for having done so.

In addition, these young men watched how we chaperones treated all our kids, regardless of economic standing or position in the world of teenager-dom . They watched as my husband--their pastor and a man they truly admire--cried through worship hymns one evening as he experienced God’s touch on his heart. And they began to think-- but not out loud; I doubt one of the fellas knew what the other three were thinking about at all--that would have been way too "wussy" to talk about.

On Thursday evening, when I entered the auditorium a few minutes early to find our seats and spend a few minutes praying for our kids, I felt a huge difference in the air. I knew something was up. So I began to pray. I prayed for every single seat of our group and for the young life that would be sitting in that chair that evening. And sure enough, when the service began, I knew, I knew, I knew God had been at work that day.

The praise leader came onto the stage, and it was clear he had been crying. He told the kids, "I'm not going to tell you how to worship tonight--if you want to stand, you stand. If you want to sit, you sit. Hands up or down, you do what God leads you to do. I only ask this. Do just one thing differently than you would normally do. Step out of your comfort zone for just a bit, and ask God to meet you there." Wow, wow, wow. After about a half hour (me crying most of that), it was clear that God was working and the Holy Spirit was moving. The guys were two rows behind me, and when I happened to glance back to check on everyone, I noticed they were visibly touched by what was happening around them and in them.

We never had a sermon that evening. The speaker told us to just continue worshipping as we were and then go to our group study. As we finished singing and headed out the door, all the girls were in front of me. I counted them all and then turned around to find the guys. They caught up with me, clearly touched, having been convicted by the Holy Spirit and with greater emotion than I’d witnessed in them as long as I’d know them. We walked to the room where our group met each evening and spent the next two hours talking, praying, repenting, and encouraging each other. God got hold of those young men that night. It’s been several weeks since that evening, and I still feel as if my heart will burst with the memory.

Next day, one of the guys went to the campus bookstore and bought a new Bible. Another of the fellas called Dave from the bookstore the next week with questions about Bibles. He ended up buying a new Bible, a young man's study and a couple other things. A couple of the young men took their iPods to the youth minister and asked him to take off the music they didn't need and put some of his Christian music on for them. All of them have a look in their eyes that tells of the change God has made in their hearts. They were all good kids to begin with—no question in my mind about that. Now, they are good kids who love Jesus, for real. It shows in their eyes, in their words, and in their actions.

God is so good.

My No-Responsibility Week

2010-06-15T18:34:00.005-05:00

I don't imagine that my life is any busier than yours. Probably, we all manage to fill our lives with more activity than we need or want. A couple of months ago, I went 11 straight days with scheduled activities every night after work. I was not in my home any of those evenings for any longer than it took to shower and get in the bed so I could start all over the next day. Needless to say, I was a little tired at the end of those days.

My husband--my sweet, sweet husband--suggested that I take a week where I did absolutely nothing after work--no trips across town to pay bills for my mama, no grandsons spending the night, not even go to church if I didn't want to go. That take-the-week-off idea appealed greatly to me! Now, what week to take? It seemed every week after that 11-day stretch had some previously scheduled event, so finding the unscheduled week was not that easy.

But the week did come--and this is it! So here's how I'm doing it.... Every afternoon when I leave work, I turn off my phone--no texting and no talking on the phone. I had planned to sit around and do nothing at all, but I just can't do that. I do have eyes, and I can see stuff that needs doing. Sitting around and staring at the work that needed to be done would not have been restful at all. SO, I'm doing one thing a night.

Last night I cleaned out my china cabinet. I am amazed at how much I had managed to cram into that cabinet and hutch over the last nine years! I ended up with FIVE boxes full of dishes that I took into the basement for storing, and I still managed to refill the cabinet. Only now I don't worry about something falling out on my feet when I open the doors.

Tonight I cleaned up my study so that I can actually sit at my desk and study without having to shift stacks out of the way to find a workspace.

Tomorrow night my project will be to get the kids to church. I hadn't planned to go to church, but I have a real problem with not being in church when I am able, so I'll go. Plus, the kids are learning Bible verses and have contests each week to share how many verses they have learned. If I don't pick them up--all NINE of them--they might not get there. I want them to feel the importance of learning all they can about the Bible and getting to church as often as they are able to do so.

Thursday and Friday, who knows? Maybe I will just take one or both of those nights and do nothing. That might work--if I sit around with a blindfold over my eyes!

2010-06-14T18:23:00.003-05:00

Do you know what bothers me almost as much as the fact that a young man died yesterday--a needless, horrible death? What bothers me almost as much is that my three grandsons presented this information to me as a matter of fact--no emotion, no shock, no horror. Does that bother anyone else? These children are 10, 7, and 4 years old. Why didn't it bother them more than that? Maybe I can understand Andre, because he's so little and he doesn't understand what it means to die. But the other two..... one of the reasons, I believe, is that they play these awful, bloody games.

Nate was on my computer last night playing FBI assassin....killing the bad guys so that they could rescue the hostages. KILLING the bad guys. KILLING the bad guys. I made him stop. Call me whatever name you wish to call me, but I made him stop.

It concerns me to no end that death is such a matter-of-fact occurrence to little kids. It just does.

Sunday, June 13, 2010

2010-06-13T20:27:00.005-05:00

Today, Nate spent the day with me. A friend of Jenni's family was killed last night right in front of her boyfriend. It's been a sad, shock-filled day for them. I brought Nate home with me so we could clean out the pool and run the filter for a while, but it rained pretty hard, along with a good bit of thunder. So we just hung out and then went to church at 6. After church, we melted marshmallows over a candle and made s'mores. Right now, it's nearly bed time. Nate is upstairs working on his latest business idea--he has a lot of those. I am watching The Fugitive.

It's back to work for me tomorrow after three days. And for this week, i am taking the evenings off. I'm not going to go out for any reason; just hang around the house, turn my phone off at night, maybe do some stuff in the house. I'm just going to do what I want to do.

Maybe I'll write some more, too. Sure need to catch up.

Tomorrow Got Here,

2010-06-08T06:46:00.003-05:00

and it's going to be a beautiful day. Part of my problem, I admit, is that I haven't been as faithful in my Bible study lately, and that made such a difference in my outlook on life. I truly do need to study the Word daily in order to keep my life in balance/perspective.

It's not about me, y'all. It IS about HIM. Studying the Bible reinforces that for me and sets my life back in order.

It's going to be a lovely day.

The Construction of Late

2010-06-07T18:58:00.005-05:00

Do you ever go through the emotions that you just aren't doing it right anymore; that you really aren't necessary; that if you took a few steps back for awhile, no one would even miss you?

I have absolutely no reason to feel that way, but sometimes I do. It's not so much things others say to me or things they do--it's more the way I perceive myself in the big picture.

A discussion goes bad, and now communications are strained at best and non-existent at worst. Over and over the question arises, "What could I have done to assure a different outcome?" My perceptions become skewed, and I blame myself for both sides of the breakdown.

The positions you held are not yours anymore, and while you may be glad to have someone else in those positions, suddenly you feel -- I don't know -- unnecessary? lost? empty?

It's strange. Every now and then I go through these emotions. I don't share them so that you will feel the need to pat me on the back or encourage me. In a day or two, I'll be over this and back in my "zone." Right now, I just feel tired, unnecessary, a bit lonely.

But tomorrow....

For Jenni

2010-05-07T18:26:00.001-05:00

Ten years ago my daughter became a mother. Today she has three sons ages 10, 7, and 4. They each have their own special personality, and they are all active little boys! Some nights their granddaddy and I watch them for Jenni, and love them as much as we do, by the end of most of those evenings, we are exhausted. However, this article is not about me; it’s about my daughter, the mother of three little boys.

When Jenni brought Nate home from the hospital ten years ago, she was only 19 years old. I can remember walking into her room each night as she cared for him. He slept with her, and I’d stand in the door and watch her arrange his little blankets and get him cozy before she’d make herself comfortable. I felt great pleasure watching the way she protected and cared for him.

Over the years since her first child was born, we’ve had occasional differences of opinion about parenting. Times and trends have changed, and actions I took with my children aren’t necessarily the norm today. Many times as we discussed styles of parenting, Jenni took my advice—sometimes she did it her way. Ultimately, when all is said and done, I have to say I’m very proud of the way she mothers her children.

I was reminded of her abilities just recently when my youngest grandson had his tonsils removed. I picked Jenni and A.J. up at 5:45 am and off to the hospital we went. When the nurses called A.J.’s name, Jenni took his little hand and led him back to pre-op. He looked so tiny, and he was so sweet as he clutched her hand and walked along beside her. After they were situated and I went back to see them, Jenni was lying on the bed with A.J., and they were playing and laughing. She managed to keep him fairly calm before he was taken to surgery; and although she was very nervous, she managed to maintain her calm in his presence.

After surgery, we waited in A.J.’s hospital room for the nurses to bring him to us. As soon as he was carried into the room and saw his mommy, he began crying. Immediately Jenni was beside him, comforting him, whispering in his ear to calm him down. She lay beside him on the bed, and in no time he was sleeping again. She didn’t leave his side as she watched over him with her mother love.

Jenni, this is for you. While we don’t always agree on the day-to-day of motherhood, and while our styles of mothering may have some differences, I freely admit that I am proud of the mother you are. Life is not easy much of the time, but you still manage to make sure your sons know how much they are loved. They clearly adore you.

Little A.J. recently whispered in your ear, “You’re a good mommy.” I couldn’t agree more.

I Wonder

2010-01-26T22:09:00.001-05:00

Stephen the deacon was full of the Holy Spirit, and he performed signs and wonders. And he became a target of the same mindset that had already crucified his Savior, Jesus. They set him up the same way they set Jesus up. But he refuted their false testimony by giving them a history lesson about God's chosen people--Israel.

When Stephen got up that morning I bet he didn't consider that it would be his last day on earth. But it was. Before the day was out, even with his testimony which proved his accusers were wrong about him, the powers that be had incited yet another crowd against another innocent man. Stephen died a very painful death by stoning.

Did he whine? No. Did he beg? No. The Word says he looked heavenward and saw the Son of God standing at the right hand of the Father. Jesus was preparing to meet Stephen. Stephen's face glowed with the vision. A few short minutes later, Stephen asked God not to count his murderers' sins against them, and he died.

We in America don't have people chasing us to the edge of town in order to stone us because we are a testimony against their lives. Don't be deceived, though. The enemy still hates us. Watch the news--every day the battle grows more heated.

I'm not trying to be morbid, but you do realize, don't you, that .... well, you know. What sort of testimony do you hope to leave behind when that day arrives? Will you be able to look into the heavens and see the Son standing, waiting to welcome you home? Will your face glow from the encounter? Or will we hang our heads in shame, afraid to look our Savior in the eyes?

I wonder.

"It Is Written"

2010-01-11T19:10:00.000-05:00

As I read my Bible this morning, i was struck once again by the fact that the enemy knows the scripture. When attempting to tempt Jesus after His 40 days of fasting, the enemy said, in Matthew 4:6, "...it is written..." and then he quoted Scripture.

This is just another reminder to me that even folks who don't trust Jesus as Savior know the Word and that I must be careful to search the Scriptures and not be deceived. This is also true, I believe, of some preachers of the Word, who are mostly in the business to get rich off of trusting, Scripturally uninformed Christians. This is exactly why it is important that we Christians study the Word for ourselves and trust the Holy Spirit to teach us, so that when someone preaches the Word out of context, we are immediately struck with such a sense of dis-ease that we step back until we can research the Word for ourselves. There are wolves in sheep's clothing out there--knowing the Word will help me to avoid being taken in by them.

My thought for today. I had so many other thoughts as I read today, so many things I learn, so many questions for God... studying the Bible is good for me. Thank God for His Word.

Seasons Come and Seasons Go

2010-01-05T23:03:00.006-05:00

Our daughter had her first child when she was 19, her second child three years later, and her last child two years after that. Because she is a single mom and needed help with the boys while she worked, she lived with us. Honestly, that didn’t really work all that well. From her perspective, it was as if she were still a child living at home with her parents. We had our share of disagreements (at least a hundred thousand or so). The living situation just wasn’t the best, because the tension of adults very loudly sharing their different perspectives transferred over to the little guys.

About a year-and-a-half ago, Jen told us she was moving into her own home. She had found an apartment within her price range and felt that the time had come. She was right, of course, it was time. Her dad and I helped her get her belongings moved in, bought her some groceries, gave her a little cash, and returned to a child-free home for the first time in more than 30 years.

At first, I thought I might never get used to the quiet that engulfed the house after living with noisy little boys running around, leaving near-tornado results in their wake. They had always been with us. I loved them with every ounce of my being, and having them gone from under foot every minute of the day wasn’t as enjoyable as I had dreamed it might be.

At first.

Eventually, I began to notice the change. I would leave for work and find the house in the same condition when I got home that evening. I noticed it was quieter, and I was calmer. This really helped when the boys came over, because the day-to-day stress wasn’t there anymore. One day I looked around the house and thought, “Hmm, maybe now I can fix these rooms up like I’ve wanted to do.” We’d bought the house as a fixer-upper, but the years had taken away the desire to do much with the house in our struggle to simply stay sane.

So 2009 was a good year for me. I began working on those home improvements, a little slower than I might have tackled them ten years ago, but getting the work accomplished nonetheless. With the grandsons around the corner from us, we were able to see them as often as we wished. Our son and daughter-in-love live about 7 hours from us, normally allowing us to see them only twice a year. In 2009 we saw them five or six times! On one of their visits my son commented that I was more fun to be around in my “old age.” When I asked him what he meant by that, he said that I seemed more relaxed and I laughed a whole lot more about things.

Saturdays are a real treat for me now, because I am able to visit with my other family members, plan an evening with our adult friends, or do any number of things I want to do, as opposed to babysitting most of the day away without accomplishing any of my plans. Best of all, we can have one of the boys over for the night and really enjoy having them with us. So all in all, empty-nesting has been a good thing for my husband and me.

As I struggled through the years of having our daughter and grandsons living with us and all the drama involved with that, folks would ask me, “How do you deal with it all?” My reply was that this was just a season of life, and it would eventually pass into a different season. I’ve looked at life that way for many years, and it has been what has kept me going when a current “season” wasn’t so much fun. I believed that every season was God-ordained, so I clung to the knowledge that God was in control and to the promise that He would bring good from every challenge I was facing.

This new season as an empty-nester holds much promise. My husband and I can once again carry on a quiet conversation, or simply sit together in comfortable silence with no distractions. We are able to plan vacations, or go out to dinner every now and then; and I’ve especially noticed my husband once again enjoys having folks come into the home now that it isn’t full and noisy all the time. Best of all, we are freed up to spend more time in the Word of God, and focus on particular aspects of our own personal walk with God.

As I said before, some of the seasons I’ve traveled through have not been easy. I believe, however, that in every season—good or challenging—God has much to teach. The lessons that I have learned are not just for my benefit, either. Every lesson learned is an opportunity to help someone else who is struggling with the same issues, to share what I have been taught by God and to encourage them to know that God will help them too.

I will more than likely face new challenges in the days ahead. Recently, my husband and I have found ourselves to be members of what I have coined the “sandwich” generation, taking care of grandchildren on one end of the spectrum, as well as caring for aging parents at the other end. I have no doubt that we will learn lessons as we face the challenges of this new role. Thankfully, we both believe that God is stronger than the challenges, and He will be with us every step of the way. He is, after all, the Master of the seasons.

Claudette Wood
© 2009

Resolutions, Smesolutions!

2010-01-05T22:21:00.005-05:00

For the past several years, my husband has asked me the same question, “What resolutions have you made for the New Year?”

My answer has consistently been, “None.”

Seriously, if I could remember the last time I actually kept even one resolution, I might consider making new ones. The simple fact is that I have begun many a January 1 with a list of resolutions for the year, all of which have been broken by January 2. So forget it. And the list is almost exactly the same every year. I could just pull out my list from ten years ago and re-date it. Come on, ladies, you know what I’m talking about, don’t you? My list reads like this: Number one, read through the Bible; number two, lose weight; number three, spend less money (seriously?).

All this is not to say that resolutions aren’t a good thing. Making resolutions helps us check our priorities, consider where we want our lives to have traveled by year’s end, and gives us a direction in which to move. A person who actually accomplishes the goals on her list is doing a good thing. I’ve accomplished one or two things on my lists in the past, but not enough to actually feel the benefit of making the lists for the future. I don’t need that kind of guilt.

But, okay, just for the fun of it, let’s say I was going to make some resolutions for this coming year, and I wanted it to be different from past lists—you know, something I could actually see myself accomplishing. What sorts of things would I put on this list? I’ve considered this for a while, and here’s what I decided upon. A good place to begin, I suppose, is with my relationships. God first, of course. I’d want to spend more time in the Word, getting to know my Father better. That’s a worthy goal, one that would benefit me daily and eternally. So far, so good. Then, of course, is the relationship with my husband. Now that we are empty-nesters, I could work to be sure our relationship doesn’t grow stale, but moves out in new directions. That could be lots of fun. I like that goal.

Next on my list would be my children and grandchildren. I’d like to further develop the friendship I have formed with my two adult children—spend more time talking with them and learning what’s happening in their lives; perhaps make more opportunities to visit with each other and maybe even go on a trip together. That’s a good goal for the list. As far as my grandsons are concerned, I could write a book. I would like to fill their lives with love, kisses, hugs and back scratches (only grandma knows how to do this properly, I’m told). I’d like to teach them more about Jesus, of course. I could make plans with their mom to take them to movies, have sleepovers, eat pizza, make cookies, stir kool-aid—any activity that involves interaction with grandma. Okay, so let’s add that to my list.

Oh, and then there are my friends. I have some very good friends, and over the last year I have begun reconnecting with friends as far back as high-school days. I’d probably add that to my list as something valuable to be continued in the year ahead.

I suppose if I were going to break down and make a list of resolutions, these are the sorts of goals I would set for myself. It is certainly different from past lists I’ve made, and it might even be an achievable list. I don’t know, though. I could just do these things without that list hanging over my head all year long. These types of goals don’t really need a list as a reminder, anyway, right?

One year, for the children’s sermon at church, I rolled up a scroll with a list of resolutions on it. As I flipped open that long scroll that ran down my legs and out onto the floor, the congregation erupted in laughter. It was a fun moment, and allowed me an avenue to make a serious point. We can make all the plans we wish, but life doesn’t follow a list. One moment or one word could literally move my life into a different direction.

Life certainly can be full of surprises. However, while I have no idea of the events I may experience or if I’ll accomplish anything on my “non-list,” I do have confidence that I won’t be facing the year alone. God guarantees me of His presence with this promise: “… the LORD, He is the One who goes before you. He will be with you, He will not leave you nor forsake you; do not fear nor be dismayed.” (Deuteronomy 31:8). My Father loves me. Whether or not I make any resolutions for myself, it will still be a year of promises kept.

And Now the End is Here

2009-10-06T18:44:00.003-05:00

So, last Wednesday night was my last night as the youth director at our church. I had been at it for five years, and at my age, five years represents quite a change in the physical aspects of keeping up with a bunch of teens. I've been to camp with them four times; jumped up and down with them at several hundred concerts (and spent one year with a bulging disc as a result!); shown approximately 5000 movies; bought $100,000 worth of snack foods; driven hundreds of miles to different events; etc...... I've prayed with them as they made decisions for the Lord, I've loved and counselled them in the Word, I've prepared a gazillion Bible studies to encourage them to learn as much as they can about Jesus. I still love them and my desire to see them grow in the Lord is the same as it ever was. It was just time, and we all knew it.

In the past five years, we have had 12 teens graduate out of the youth group into the college and career age level. The numbers have fluctuated from three to 21 to eight. In all the trips we took, I never once had to bring a kid home from a group function. They knew that I loved them, but they also knew that I wouldn't hesitate to remove them from an event in order to ensure the pleasure of the rest of the group.

It was a good five years. I'm thankful to have had them.

Squished in the Middle

2009-09-03T19:55:00.002-05:00

Hubby and I watch the boys every Thursday evening while our daughter goes to night class at the community college. Tonight, we were knee-deep in homework (i hate homework!) and the phone rang. It was my mother, sounding frantic and asking me to come over and take her to the hospital. I asked her where her husband was, and she said he couldn't take her because he was sick himself. What was wrong with her? She was having muscle spasms all over she said. Immediately my irritated sensor kicked in. She's been sick with stomach virus a couple days, and I would bet every single penny I own to my name that she took something to try to stop and when it didn't work she took more until she'd taken too much. It's her habit to do this, so I know from whence I speak on this matter.

Anyway, after I hung up, fully intending to head over there, Dave stepped in and said he'd go, since I needed to be here with the boys. Out the door he goes. I call mama's house to let them know he's on his way to take her. By the time he got there, she had already called an ambulance, and the paramedics were working on her. Hubby followed the ambulance to the hospital and is there even as I write this. He said he'd let me know whether I need to go over as soon as they see a doctor. He also mentioned she might have taken too much medicine and that she's doing a lot of complaining about the folks who are trying to help her. Hmmmm.

I sigh. It's part of the season of life we are in, I know. The Sandwich Generation season. Little ones needing us, and older parents needing us. Most days it's not a problem. Some days it's almost too much.

Life is what it is. You either roll with it, or you lose your mind. You know?

Papa! The "What If's" Pushed Me Out of Bed

2009-08-17T23:40:00.006-05:00

Why is it that the "What If's" wait until bedtime to show up? I sit in my chair and fall asleep watching t.v. I wake up to find I've missed the most important last few minutes of the show and now I don't know if he did it or not or if he was convicted if he did it. So I drag myself to bed and IMMEDIATELY the "What If's" join me in the bed.

"What if someone hurts one of my grandsons?"

"What if one of my family members gets arrested?"

"What if someone steals the volleyball goal or basketball goal that we borrowed from the church?"

"What if someone breaks into our home?"

"What if one of my kids falls down the well at my mother's house, which is 200 miles away in another part of the state?" --wait, that was the "what if'" from 25 years ago. What are you doing in my head? Get out!

"What if , what if, what if...?" It finally gets so crowded in the bed with all the "what if's" wiggling around that I have to get up.

Okay, now I'm awake. So what to do?
-Check my email.
-Read a chapter in my book.
-Plan an agenda for the meeting tomorrow night with my VBS workers.
-Consider who might be gifted enough to handle our nursery for the upcoming year.
-Stare at the room I'm creating for my crafting adventures, and rearrange it in my head a hundred times or so--for maximum efficiency, you see.
-Pray for my grandboys, my kids, my precious husband. (should have done that first!)
-Place that order for Bible study books for the youth group.
-I could iron a shirt or two... Nah. I'd rather wrestle with the "what if's" than iron.

Listen to music. Headphones on. "Oh, My Soul," by the David Crowder Band, soothes my wrestling, restless soul. Excuse me while I close my eyes for a moment to worship. Be right back.

"Ever faithful, ever true, You are known, You never let go.
.......
Oh my soul overflows, Oh what love, Oh what love...Oh my soul fills with hope... Perfect love that never lets go."

You mean, seriously, I don't have to worry about the "what if's"? And all that other stuff, You've got that under control, as well? Forgive me, Papa, for not remembering that. The guardian/protector in me still assumes I have to fix it all alone. I guess since You have it all under control, I can get back to bed, huh?

First, I have to listen to Mahalia Jackson sing His Eye Is on the Sparrow.

Now I believe I'll be able to sleep. Good night, friends.

2009-08-16T15:33:00.000-05:00

i have only written two posts this month, and it's already the 19th! this is pathetic!

2009-08-16T15:31:00.002-05:00

Getting ready to begin a new personal study entitled Epic, by John Eldredge. Stay tuned in. I get all excited when the Holy Spirit teaches me stuff and I love to share!

And now, back to our regularly scheduled programming.

Cybersaints

2009-08-04T23:44:00.003-05:00

Over the years, we have made some forever friends, and many of them come from the church hubby pastored for almost nine years in Roanoke Rapids, NC. These were the kind of friends who just popped over for a visit. Sometimes they even brought with them a meal or--even better--a dessert. We studied together at the church and at home Bible studies. Our kids played and went to camp together. We had some particularly fun New Year's Eve services (oh, man, did we laugh!). When we moved to a new church, these friends spent two days helping us pack and driving with us to our new church in DC. They did this because they were more than just members at the church where Dave pastored; they were our dear, dear friends. When we arrived at our new home, in another state, hours away from them, they unpacked us, cried with us, and then went back to their homes. At our new church, every now and then we'd look around and some of these precious friends would have shown up for a visit--a visit that took them four hours' drive to make. One day, Dave and I came home from shopping. The kids were acting really strange. All of a sudden, these guys popped out of a closet and surprised us. I was so happy, I didn't stop talking for ---ever!

As well, we kept up with each other through the medium of emailing, naming ourselves the Cybersaints. We talked about everything in very lengthy emails back and forth. As I was cleaning out some old files this evening, I found some of those emails I had kept in hard-copy form. Looking at the dates, I could not believe how often and how MUCH we actually wrote to each other. My husband, who tends to be the insomniac in our family (tonight it is I), even wrote a drama entitled "Insomniodrama." I found it in its entirety in my files tonight. I think I'll print it all up and bind it and send a copy to all my Cybersaint friends.

I don't know why or when, but over time we stopped writing to each other on a daily basis. Life happened, I guess. It wasn't because we don't all love each other, and no one got mad--at least no one stayed mad. It just happened. Now we occasionally email each other, when something really special is happening. We don't have our "squantums" anymore. (Those of you who aren't enlightened, that's a picnic.) We just recently said "see you later" to one of the original Cybersaints, as she stepped into her heavenly home.

Facebook helps some. A few of the Cybersaints are now on there, and we occasionally comment on each other's statuses or pictures we've posted. But we're older, you know? So why isn't life slowing down, allowing us more time to communicate? Are we too technological all of a sudden? Is there too much to keep up with, that we don't keep up with what really matters? That's kind of a dumb question, isn't it? Yes, we have allowed ourselves to become too busy.

Life did happen--lots of it. Our kids grew up, they went to college and got married, had kids. We became members of the "sandwich" generation--caring for aging parents on the one side and our grandchildren on the other side. But when the kids were right under our feet, demanding so much of our attention, we still managed at least a weekly correspondence--lengthy ones, too.

Well, dear Cybersaints, if you are reading this, please know that even though my communications have slowed down to less than a snail's pace, my love for you has not dimmed over the years. For me, you will always be the friends who taught me how to be a friend. Thank you for wonderful memories.

Catching Up

2009-07-28T18:07:00.003-05:00

Well, VBS went well, but we didn't have any major decisions made during that week. Of course, who knows what seeds were planted in those precious little minds. Time and eternity will tell, as they say. By the way, who is "they" anyhow? Does anybody really know? And why do "they" get all the credit for stuff? Is that fair?

Saturday I had the youth group over for supper and a movie at the house. I fixed spaghetti, and the guys seemed to like it pretty well. Took us about 10 minutes to figure out what movie to watch. Ended up watching I Am Legend. It wasn't as scary this time as the first time I saw it, but it was still scary.

I woke up during the night with a terrible stomach ache. Apparently the acid in the sauce didn't agree with me. So even after preparing to teach and take the boys to church, I wasn't able to go. Bummer. I spent the day resting much as possible. Dave took me for a drive in the mountains, which was nice and peaceful. Then I worked on my pictures some more.

I know, I know! I said I wouldn't go on and on about the pictures, but I just can't help myself. I'm having so much fun finding all these pictures again, and I even talked my mama into letting me have her pictures so I can scan them in. Her albums are all yellowing and the pics are fading, so I plan to fix them all up and give them back to her in new books at Christmas. She should enjoy that. I have some other ideas, too, but they aren't totally formulated in my mind yet.

I don't really have much to say. I'm reading Dean Koontz's Frankenstein trilogy. I had already read the first two books, but it's been three years and the third book is just now coming out. So I'm re-reading them. The new one should be here this week. I'm looking forward to getting it, even though I have a really bad feeling about how things are going to turn out in the last few chapters. Who knows, though? Maybe I'll be surprised.

So there you have it. I'm going to go talk to hubby for a bit and then read some more. And maybe work on my pictures some more. I know! I know!

Pastor's Wife Takes a Tumble and Other Attempts by the Devil to Thwart VBS

2009-07-18T18:45:00.004-05:00

After several sleepless hours last night, I got up and went to the church to decorate for VBS. I got there early with hopes of getting finished fairly early and getting other things done at the house. Since I'm just coordinating this year, my task for today was decorating the chapel where the kids will have opening session each evening. I noticed it was a little warm in the chapel and in the other rooms of the building as I walked around checking things out, but I figured the a/c either hadn't been turned on or was turned on late last night.

When hubby got to the church, he used his air compressor to blow up the big kangaroo that is part of the decoration. He also commented on the a/c and asked me when I had turned it on. Hmm? Me? Um, I didn't turn on the a/c.

It wasn't long before we realized that the a/c just wasn't working. This is not good news. We have 50 or 60 kids going to be in the building for the next five nights. No air is just not good at all. Dave called the a/c man to come out and check out the system. (He didn't get there until 5:30 or so.)

Meanwhile, I am setting up the chapel and trying to get this big 9'x6' poster up. Dave comes in and helps me get a lot of it tied and taped up. The poster is in three 3' pieces, so we have to lay it on the floor and tape the pieces together. By this time, the Children's Director has arrived, and she is helping us by tearing off tape and holding edges together. It takes the three of us about an hour to get the pieces all together and taped on the cardboard background.

As I am straightening up some other things, I notice that there is a piece of tape extending about 6" from the bottom of one of the poster pieces. "Sweetie," I say to my hubby, "could you please cut that piece of tape off that poster so it doesn't get stepped on?" He said he would and that's the last I thought of it.

A few minutes later, after doing a bit more decorating to the front of the chapel with Melody and Daina, Mel asks me to fix something at the front of the poster (she is behind the poster at this time doing something else). I go over and fix what she was talking about. Unbeknownst to me I have now STEPPED ON THE PIECE OF TAPE that hubby has forgotten to cut off the bottom of the poster. As I step back, my shoe--stuck to the tape--catches and trips me up. I stumble backward and then fall and my shoe, with the tape stuck on it, RIPS the poster and yanks it off the cardboard we have just spent OVER AN HOUR fixing! I hit the floor, the other two ladies in the room jerk around to see me and the poster lying on the floor with a big rip in it. "Oh, no!" we all gasp at the same time. Mel comes over and removes the tape from the bottom of my shoe and helps me up. After looking the poster for a moment, we all laugh and decide we can fix it.

Just as I am getting up off the floor, hubby walks in, and seeing the damage, says, "Uh oh." Mel tells him what has happened and then tells Dave, "And she didn't even say sh*t or anything." At this time hubby decides he might better leave the room. And he does.

My first thought as I was falling and watching that poster coming off the board was, "I wonder if Lifeway has anymore of these posters at the store?" I didn't even realize I was falling until my backside hit the floor, because I was too busy watching the poster RIP OFF THE CARDBOARD backing.

Then I notice that one of the ladies decorating her room upstairs has been crying. I make an excuse to go look for something so that I can talk to her. She is clearly upset about something and we spend a little while talking until she calms down.

The enemy is clearly at work, which leads me to believe that this is going to be a GREAT VBS this year. I can hardly wait to see what God does this week in the lives of these precious little ones.

Now, if you will excuse me, I'm going to go take an Excedrin PM and hit the hay. Goodnight.

2009-07-17T20:53:00.002-05:00

gotta write something. gotta write something. gotta write something.

nope. nothing there. maybe tomorrow.

When Did You Get Old?

2009-07-14T08:39:00.017-05:00

My son was travelling through on his way to an Atlanta Braves weekend with his friend. They stopped at our house to spend the night, before resuming their trek. While I was cooking breakfast for them, I stood and watched the birds and my birdfeeder outside my kitchen window. When Josh came down from his room, I was talking to him about the birds and what types I had seen. He got quiet for a moment, and then he asked, "When did you get old?"

I suppose it comes as a shock to our kids that we get old. One morning they wake up, and we appear to have changed during the night. We don't move as fast, our hair either turns gray or it turns loose, we begin experiencing more frequent medical problems, and apparently our interests have changed.

I've gone through this with my own mother. One day I went by her house, and not only did she appear to have shrunk several inches, but she also looked very old. She is 70, but because of her health problems, she looks much older than those 70 years. It can be a bit disconcerting.

I don't really have any words of wisdom about all this. I guess it just took me aback when Josh asked the question. If you count years, I am getting older. Don't feel old inside, most of the time--but then I remember that I have a 31-year-old son, a 29-year-old daughter, and three grandsons (grandsons!). My interests have changed a bit. I do enjoy getting out the old pics and looking at them. Since I've always been a crafter, that doesn't seem like much of a change for me. Birds have become a real big interest for me in the past few months, as well. That is new. And the desire to reconnect with old friends has become a passion for me.

One thing about getting older and wiser is that I have begun to recognize what is truly important in life. After my relationship with Jesus, family and then other people become more the focus of my life than things. If I can deposit anything positive into the lives that I touch, then I consider my life successful. And I hope I grow VERY old while I work to accomplish that goal!

Now, about those birds......

2009-07-13T07:02:00.002-05:00

i have six followers! how cool is that? pretty soon, i can begin my own kingdom. *wink, wink*

well, actually, i have five followers. one of those is me, for some reason. i have to remove that. don't want to "fudge" the numbers. i think my son ought to follow me, don't y'all?

just trying to get some humor in the day before i head off to work. we are getting so slow there that i've removed anything personal from my computer there just in case i get the "you have 20 minutes to clean out your desk" speech.

i make t-shirts for old-er ladies. my newest one is going to be: "I'm wearing a bra on Saturday. Can this day get any worse?" You guys may not get that, but we girls understand, don't we?

okay, enough of this silliness. off i go! have a wonderful day, dear friends.

2009-07-12T20:18:00.002-05:00

Well, here we are at the end of the weekend and a new work week beginning in the morning. I had a great weekend. Spent Friday evening with my husband and my mom-in-law. She bought a new car Friday and gave us her '95 Buick LeSabre. It's still in fairly good condition, too. What a very nice thing for her to do.

Saturday, I just did what I wanted to do. I cleaned some in the house, cleaned up the car, took pics of the birds, made a cake for the grandsons, and bought groceries. Then I took a nap until the boys came over to spend the night.

Many times, when the boys come over, we're ready for them to go home after about 30 minutes. They tend to be wound up and going full-out. It wears us out. I don't know, either they were tired, or we were just really relaxed, but we really enjoyed having them over and had a nice evening with them. I took some pictures of the boys, which you can see on Facebook.

Today was just a great day. Good Sunday School class, great worship hour. Restful afternoon. Good evening service. Nice, relaxing evening. Sigh.

Now I gotta call Josh and ask him a question. Later, y'all.

2009-07-10T20:13:00.002-05:00

Hey dear friends. Hope you have all had a great week. After a LONG week of feeling pretty lousy, I am now on the mend and happy to be so.

I have a new project I'm working on. You've seen some of it on Facebook. I'm scanning my pictures into my computer. Some of them were getting very faded, so this way if the picture eventually fades completely out, at least I have a digital copy. Some of the pictures make me smile, and some of them leave me feeling a little blue. I guess that's normal, isn't it? What i eventually hope to do with those pics is make some memory books. Pictures aren't really much good if all we do is hide them in a box.

I mean, why do we take pictures anyway? To capture a memory. And then we stick 'em in a box and forget about them. Honestly, how many years of memories do you have stuck in a box somewhere? Get them out of the box! Put them out for the world to see. Create picture wallpaper and cover a wall in one of your rooms (after you've scanned them, of course). Upload them to your sites and show the world. Put 'em on something like snapfish and create one-of-a-kind books for your family and friends.

It's almost like catching up with old friends, in a way. Those "Oh, I remember that day!" moments can really be fun.

Anyway, that's what I plan to be doing for the next few weeks. I'll try not to go on and on about it. Just look at the pics, okay? Make a girl happy.

I Wish I Was as Dedicated as David Wagner

2009-07-01T21:21:00.003-05:00

Every day Dave writes something in his blog. It's usually funny. He has an active imagination, and I never know where his blog will go, but it's interesting every time. I just can't always think of what to say.

Today I got up, went to work, went to church and taught the youth. Then I had a VBS teachers' meeting. Then I came home, took some medicine and played on my computer.

The End.

2009-06-29T19:14:00.002-05:00

well, today is a new day, and i honestly don't feel better. some of it is the fact that i hate my job, i'm sure. but i have to work so i need to quit whining about it. but i still feel blah. tomorrow? maybe?

by the way, i love you, my friends. i'm a lucky woman to know so many good people. you DO make my life less blah.

thank you.

2009-06-28T20:18:00.006-05:00

Number one grandson, Nate, is spending a few days with his uncle Josh. I'm sure they will have a lot of fun. I remember when Nate was born and Josh was coming to see him. He had said he'd be home in the morning. When i got up around 6:30 to help Jenni with Nate, i looked out the window and there in front of the house sat Josh, asleep in his car. He had been so excited to meet Nate that he drove down and got to our house about 5 in the morning. Not wanting to wake us up, he just went to sleep in the car until we got up. Somewhere in my stack of pictures, i have one of Nate asleep on Josh's chest. It's where Nate slept the first six months of his life, on somebody's chest. We spoiled that child to pieces.

So Nate is with Josh. Josh will take him to the movies, to a ballgame, to play with the dog, and just generally teach him how a good man lives his life. I'm glad Nate has Josh and Dave (hubby) to be examples for him. He has a real chance at succeeding in life with these two men to encourage him.

2009-06-28T20:07:00.003-05:00

i'm not sure why, but i feel a bit depressed tonight. maybe i'm just tired. nothing happened today to cause me to feel this way. in fact, the evening service was wonderful and worshipful. the teens did an excellent job of their number tonight. they performed under blacklight to Arise My Love. i tell you honestly, it was a very worshipful experience. more than one person was crying by the end of that number. so why do i feel sad?

ah, maybe i'm just tired. i'll feel better tomorrow, i'm sure.

The Wedding

2009-06-15T19:42:00.010-05:00

After making sure that our grandson was safely tucked in his bed on Thursday (after his tonsillectomy), Dave and I headed off to Tennessee to the wedding of our niece, Holly. We traveled halfway and stopped outside of Knoxville for the night. aside:At the Holiday Inn Express, we slept on one of the most comfortable beds of our lives. If I could have figured out a way to get that mattress in our car, trust me, I would have done it.

We arrived in Nashville Friday afternoon. The festivities began that evening with a ballgame and cookout, courtesy of Chris and Holly. Don't even ask me who played. I was just there hanging out with my family, and enjoying the daylights out of myself.

Saturday started off with breakfast with my two sisters. Judy had to leave after that to get ready for the evening, and Veniva and I hung out. Yes, I said V E N I V A (Short story, very funny, I'll tell you in another blog). I caught up with hubby around lunchtime, and we spent the rest of the day together, until time to leave for the mansion.

Before you know it, it was time for the wedding. It was outside, the weather was perfect, the service was beautiful. The people were beautiful. My sister looked like a statuesque goddess. Holly was stunning in her wedding gown and looked so much like her mother coming down the aisle, I could have cried. Amber, my other niece, and the maid of honor, was as beautiful as a person could be, and she looked so happy. The groom was in his uniform, and in case I haven't said it lately, I think men in uniform are very cool. God bless our military.

My sweet hubby performed the ceremony, and it went off without a hitch. Hmm, wrong word. Okay, then, it went off WITH a hitch--Chris and Holly.

Actually, Chris and Holly were already married. They had a very small ceremony in their home in December 2007, just before Chris was deployed overseas. But they wanted to have a big, formal ceremony to share with their friends the commitment they have made to love each other for the rest of their lives. They did it in real style, and I, for one, will not forget the joy of that day.

God bless you, Holly and Chris. May you always be as full of joy with each other as you were on this very special day.

Are My Tonsils Out Yet?

2009-06-11T19:24:00.007-05:00

Today, number one grandson Nate had his tonsils and adenoids removed. This is a fairly routine procedure, and all went well.

When we got to the tonsil-taking-out place, they took Nate back, put him in a little gown and gave him some 90-proof something or other to "take the edge off."

He told his mama, "I'm tired, and these warm blankets might make me go to sleep, but they aren't gonna get me with this medicine." Right. Then they let him choose the stuffed animal of his choice out of their toy barrel. He chose a chinchilla and proceeded to take it through the motions..... "go chinchilla, it's your birthday, do the happy dance, it's your birthday" (nope, that medicine was not working at all! wink, wink).

All was well for awhile. The nurses came in and introduced themselves to Nate, the anesthesiologist came in and talked with him, the 14-year-old doctor came in and talked to him. They had a good repoire, since they were so close in age and all. When they finally came to take him back, he got through kissing mama and me, and then grand"daddy" leaned over to kiss him. He started crying and tried to get out of bed, as if he really thought he could walk with that happy juice in him. I tucked him back in and darn if some of his tears didn't start falling out of my eyes! It was the weirdest thing.

The procedure went well, as I said earlier. In recovery, he was a mess. He kept trying to rub his nose, because the anesthesia was making him itch. He cried for a few seconds and then he'd go to sleep. Then he'd wake up again and cry some more. We gave him water, sprite, an icicle, orange sherbet, more water, and more pain medicine. That finally kicked in and he slept for a while until time to go home.

I have to say, I was completely impressed with the staff at the tonsil-taking-out-place. They were extremely professional and totally caring of Nate. The nurse who took him from the room to the operating area spoke softly and calmly to him all the way down the hall, comforting him and telling him exactly what was going to be happening. And his post-op nurse was wonderful. The genuine look of concern on her face for Nate's well-being was overwhelming. It was as if she was taking care of her own child. She was gentle, kind, patient. She answered all our questions, all his questions (which he asked over and over). She took great care to share with Jenni what was going to happen in the next couple of weeks and went over the care sheets line by line. When Nate asked if he could see his tonsils, she called and asked someone to bring them for him to see. They were sealed inside a little bottle. The looked like mini-golf balls--no joke. HUGE. Which is why he had to have them removed, actually. He took one look at them and cried.

"Why are you crying?" I asked. "Because my tonsils are gone forever," he wept. Clearly still under the influence of the meds.

He's such a special boy, that grandson of ours. We are thankful he won't sound like Darth Vader anymore when he breathes.

The 80-Year Rule

2009-06-09T07:15:00.006-05:00

Several girls in the youth group have "gifted" themselves with a tattoo upon turning 18. They get them on their shoulders, upper back, or neck. Just this weekend, I saw two new tattoos on my girls.

"That looks pretty," I told one of the girls. "And when you are an old woman, it will be really pretty down around your waist."

We all laugh, but come on, girls, we all know exactly where that tattoo is going to end up, right?

Later that day, when I was talking to another youth leader about it, she told me that she has implemented the 80-year rule in making many decisions. "When I am 80," she asks herself, "how will I feel about this decision?" That's pretty good, I think, especially when it comes to our bodies.

It's no secret that as we age, our bodies...drift. I still have a vivid memory of the morning I looked into the mirror as I was drying my hair and realized I could no longer see certain body parts. They had started the slow slide--and it's been downhill ever since!

Think about your face. After a while it begins to hang off your jaw bone. Your neck shrivels and begins to look like a prune, if you can find it behind your face. If, at some point in your youth you had your cheek or your lip pierced, and you still haven't grown up enough to take it out, you might have trouble finding it later on in life. If you even remember that you had it to begin with. Your arms--oh my goodness!--your arms! One reason we older women are called angels is because when we raise our arms it appears we have "wings".

Here a few things we might want to consider in the 80-Year Rule plan:
-Tattoos of any kind will eventually melt with your skin into something unrecognizable and undesirable.
-Tattooed-on eyelashes will become part of the wrinkles on your cheek, resembling skin cancer/liver spots.
-Nothing lovlier than tattooed-on red lips against an ash white face, right?
-That heart above your breast will end up around your waist.

And piercings! belly-button piercing will be covered by your---um, nevermind.
Don't even want to think where piercings in other body parts will end up, but I can tell you, you might get lots of compliments about that unusual knee piercing (you get my drift, right? --pun intended).

Let's see...Well, those artificial body parts, for instance. Consider all the plastic folks are putting into their body in an effort to stay young looking. Now, consider all those parts that aren't artificial wrinkling and jiggling around the fake stuff. My personal opinion is that older women who are "enhanced" are more unbecoming than those who choose to age naturally. Others may hold a different view on that, but this is my blog, so there.

In honor of growing older, and as a way to laugh through the pain ;o)))), I have developed a new line of clothing called Landslide! Someday soon, I'll post pics of the items I have developed so far.

Seriously, though, there are life-altering decisions that could stand the test of the 80-Year Rule. I'll blog about those later. I have to clock back in to work, now.

Graduate Sunday

2009-06-07T14:02:00.013-05:00

Today was Graduate Sunday at our church. As the youth leader, this is my fourth set of kids who are graduating out of youth group and headed to college group. Today also marked the last of the kids I started with in the youth group five years ago. As well, today marked the last time I will graduate kids out of the youth group. See, I've made the decision to move into another area of ministry with the end of this church year.

For years, I have had a desire to have an active ministry among women. Five years ago I put that on the back burner for a while, when God distinctly called me to move among the youth for a season. I didn't realize how long that season would last, but here we are. At last I feel released by God to take another direction. And it's a good thing. I'm getting too old to jump with these kids at concerts anymore!

My calling with the youth began in this manner: five years ago in the early fall, I was asked to help chaperon a group of kids going to see the drama, Heaven's Gates and Hell's Flames. I wasn't immediately enamored with the group. These kids were into the Goth "thing" and were wearing their black leather jackets, chains, black nail polish, and dog collars. Rough crowd--not interested.

I don't know the exact moment it happened, but sometime during that evening, God placed within me a burning desire to reach out to these guys. By the invitation, when I looked at the young man beside me and asked him about his standing before God, and he replied that he wanted to be saved, I was hooked. I was madly in love with all of them. Now, how to be involved? I mulled that one over, and later that week asked the current youth leaders if I might sit in with them during a class. After a few weeks of that, I asked if they might "share" the kids with me--let me do Wednesday evenings and them continue to lead the kids on Sunday mornings.

And so it began, my love affair with the youth. It wasn't easy. The kids at that time were rather jaded and mostly non-churched (invited by one member--the only member--of the youth group and brought to church on our van). They brought some bad habits with them to the church. Some of those behaviors could even be classified as dangerous. We spent much time discussing the Word of God, we went to ballgames, we went to concerts (after which walking was difficult for a few days!), and we started going to summer camp. My first year with the kids, we took six girls to camp. Last summer, our fourth year, we took 18 kids.

Last year we graduated six kids out of youth group into the college age group. They were--I think now--the heart of the group. After they left, the makeup of the group changed drastically. It was the last of my unchurched kids, and this year's kids are all kids who have been in church all their lives. I find quite a difference in the style of teaching I must incorporate into leading them. I have also found that I am tired. I have run completely out of steam. And the passion I once had to reach these kids is growing cool. They deserve better than that. It is time for me to move on and offer them a change of leadership. I have given my guys five good years. Before God, I have done the best I could to point them to Him. They belong to Him, and He will see to it that the proper leader comes into their lives.

And now on to the women's ministry!

Weekends

2009-06-05T16:35:00.008-05:00

My son asked me what I had done last weekend that made it such a good one. I told him I'd done what I wanted to do. He laughed at this, because he knows that is a new thing for me. My weekends used to be full of grandchildren living in the house. Understand that I love my grandchildren with every ounce of my being, but when they lived with us, it was always noisy, it was mostly always messy, and hubby and I had very little privacy. It was different than how we had planned our lives, for sure.

When our daughter and grandsons moved out last year, it was difficult at first. We have always felt a great responsibility to the boys, and loud or not, we missed them. Then they would come over for a while and we couldn't remember why we had missed them so badly (!). Quiet is such an underrated thing!

Last Saturday, before my husband even got out of the bed, I had the bathroom clean, the kitchen clean and swept, the dining room table cleared of the week's mail, a load of clothes washed and dried, and his breakfast cooked. I loved it! I did a few other things around the house and then I quit for the day. I did what I wanted to do.

Later, when hubby returned from the church office, we went out shopping and to dinner. And we were back in our house and settled into our cozy chairs for the evening by 6:30pm!

Not every weekend is like that. Some weekends I have church responsibilities. Every other weekend or so, one of the boys spends the night with us. Some Saturdays I go shopping or to visit my mother. Now the weekends are at my pace, relaxed, quiet for the most part, and peaceful. Because I work outside the home five days a week, you can see why this is important to me.

I love weekends.

Friends Are Friends Forever (or Should Be)

2009-06-04T19:32:00.015-05:00

A couple of weeks ago, after connecting with each other other on Facebook, I got together with four other of my classmates from the class of '72 (North Davidson High School). We spent a fun couple of hours catching up with each other and had a really great time.

This event worked right in conjunction with one of my great desires these days--to reconnect with PEOPLE. I had made a list of things I'd like to accomplish before I get too old to do anything--write, visit Costa Rica, travel with my husband, etc. But most important to me, on a human level, is to renew or maintain my friendships.

So, what better place to start catching up than folks with whom I spent the majority of my youth? I'm hoping we can make a tradition of the gatherings and that the numbers will grow as we continue to meet.

Why do we have to get older to really recognize what's most important to us? I'm glad I'm finally at a place in my life where I can not only recognize it, but can also do something about it.

My best friend is Vicky. We've known each other since the age of eight. We always pick up our conversation right where we left off.

2009-05-12T19:23:00.004-05:00

My boys, Nathaniel, Philip, and A.J. (Dre). The little girls are Autumn and D.J.

Aren't they all beautiful?

Mother's Day

2009-05-11T20:15:00.002-05:00

I'm glad Mother's Day is past. It's not that my children don't love me or anything, but I think expectations can be so high about what might happen, and then what doesn't happen... I don't know--the hype is just too much. It was a weird day for me. I'm glad it's over. That's all.

In Memory of Kay

2009-03-19T19:59:00.004-05:00

Got a text message from a friend saturday that said, "kay m-- had massive stroke. not expected to live." What? Wait a minute, did i read that right? My friend, kay, was going to die? How could that be? She's only a few years older than me. She has kids (5, to be exact) and grandkids. She has a husband who adores her. What about her friends, her church.....? This can't be right--kay isn't really going to die.

But, in fact, by saturday evening my dear friend kay was home with Jesus, leaving us all standing in a daze, wondering what had just happened.

At her funeral, kay received many fine accolades--all of them deserved. My daughter says that of all the folks we know who have died, she is positive kay is in heaven with Jesus. This woman lived her life for Jesus out loud and in front of the whole world. She never flinched in her love and dedication to Him. She never backed down in the face of opposition--in fact, it made her more determined to stand. Kay was a soft-spoken, highly intelligent woman. She possessed a great amount of common sense, and an equal amount of good humor. She loved to laugh. She chose joy for her life instead of depression, and she overcame adversity on purpose.

I loved this friend of mine, and i am going to miss her. It was very strange to me to stand at the coffin, looking down on her empty body and see her so still, all of her "essence" gone. She was such a jokester, i almost expected at any moment that she'd pop up and yell, "Surprise! Fooled you!" But she didn't. Instead, she was in heaven, worshipping in person the God she had lived for while on earth and bowing at the feet of the Savior she had trusted with her life for all those years. What a celebration they must be having!

Kay was the person who helped me learn the freedom to be me. You see, as a young woman in the new role of "pastor's wife," i had this picture of what i was supposed to be--you know, the picture of serenity, every hair in place, pillbox hat, white gloves, a-line skirt all smooth and perfect. I KNEW i could never live up to that idea i had, so i elected to just be 'me.' I wasn't really sure how that was working, until one day, as i visited my husband at the church, kay took the time to tell me how comfortable she was around me. She told me that because i was so "real" and wasn't afraid to share my life--warts and all--with folks, that it put them at ease; that i made them feel like they could be 'normal' around me and not think they had to put on a mask to hide their true beings. Those words meant so very much to me, and i thanked God for sending kay to me to share them. I will forever be beholden to her for confirming to me what it is church folk need in a pastor's family.

Yes, i will miss my friend, kay. I'm not the only one who will.

I wrote a little poem once that went like this:

One day my life will be no more
and i wonder,
will anyone knock at my door
to mourn my passing?

Many people knocked at the door of kay's house and many people are mourning the loss of her physical presence in their lives. At the same time, we rejoice that she is in heaven, with Jesus, and receiving her jeweled crown as a good and faithful servant.

'Bye for now, kay. See you later. I love you.

Valentine Baby

2009-02-16T10:11:00.000-05:00

I was born on Valentine's Day,
my mama's pride and joy.
She was a child of 14 years;
I was her real-life toy.
She could have given me away
and gone back to her childhood world.
But we stuck together
and raised each other;
my mama and me--
her Valentine girl.

missing people

2009-02-13T22:30:00.007-05:00

Recently on a fun little questionnaire on Facebook, the question was asked, "Who do you miss?" I thought about that, and honestly, after thinking about it, realized I don't really miss people and that's the response I wrote to the question. Now, let me explain, coz I've already gotten myself in trouble because of that answer. I have extended family that I see maybe twice a year, sometimes three. I love these family members and I'm always glad to see them. While I don't sit around missing them the rest of the times I don't see them, I realize when I do see them that I have indeed missed them. And it's good to see them and we usually have a good visit.

Some of my family members took exception to the fact that I made that comment. I hope they know that I mean no disrespect to them.

Some of my answer has to do with the fact that my husband and I have lived away from our hometown for most of our married lives. He was in the military when we were first married. Later, he entered the ministry and we moved around a lot. We've only been back in our hometown the last eight years. During that time, we've had the addition of three grandsons into our lives and lots of responsibility with that. We have spent a great deal of time and expended a good bit of energy helping with the needs of these little guys. Add to that the "sandwich" lives we lead with aging parents requiring a good bit of our time and attention, and well, I just don't miss people.

Besides, if I get to missing someone, I pick up the phone and call them, or I email them, or text them. Modern technology makes it easy to keep up with people, you know?

I fully understand the importance of family. I love my family. I just don't miss people. I'm sorry if that offends.

I Don't Want to Lose My Independence

2009-02-12T20:51:00.004-05:00

Someday, i will be a really old woman (if the Lord so wills), and i will be dependent upon people. Because i have a fiercely independent nature, i don't think this will be an easy journey for me.

As a matter of fact, I recently got a small taste of having to depend upon other folks. We sold my car to our daughter, leaving us with only one car. So hubby would drop me off and work and come back and get me at the end of the day. I had to get someone to take me to church, the grocery store.... everywhere I wanted to go.

I did not like this.

I'm used to being able to get in my car and go where I want to go when I want to go. Dave finally did rent a car for me to drive until we got a second vehicle, and I was greatly appreciative. I don't really go that many places, but it was just the principle of the thing, you know?

So now we have our two cars again, and I'm able to get around without having to ask for a ride.

Ahhhhhh.

i got my nails done

2009-02-07T14:09:00.006-05:00

i thought it would be fun to get my nails done a little differently this time, so i had red tips painted on and a heart on one of my nails. since i am a valentine's baby, i feel this is appropriate. cute, huh? i will more than likely go back to white tips after my birthday, but every now and then a girl needs a change of pace.

serious blog to follow later.....

Sometimes...

2009-02-02T19:43:00.003-05:00

I needed my husband this evening. It's been a stressful day, finding out that my work hours had been cut, which will mean a good bit of belt-tightening for a while. I'm up for that; we can make it, but I so wish my husband had been here to be with me when I got home. Instead, he was at the hospital sitting with a family whose loved one was in surgery. It's what pastors do, and I don't begrudge him that one bit, nor do I begrudge the family wanting him there.

It's just that every now and then, I miss him. I have to share him with so many people, and sometimes he's so drained when he gets home that he doesn't really want to talk or interact. He just wants to sit. He's a good pastor. He's a better husband. He's many things to many people.

And sometimes, I just miss him.

My Grandsons Said....

2009-01-12T19:37:00.004-05:00

The boys ate lunch with us a couple weeks ago. Halfway through his plate, Nate said he was done with his food and full. Not many minutes later, he asked for ice cream. "I thought you said you were full?" I questioned him. "That was the good food part of me," he said. "The dessert part is still hungry." !!

And then Sunday morning on the way to church, Phil asked me why my hair was short. (he already knows what he likes, i guess). "I like my hair short," I told him. "Well, you need to get a wig, so your hair will be long like mama's hair." His mama got a good laugh out of that one.

A.J. is a darling, but he throws fits...fairly regularly, actually. In the nursery Sunday, he got upset and threw his hands over his face and fell to the floor. The nursery was full, so everyone in there had been assigned a kid to watch. A young teenage fella, Jake, was assigned to A.J. (God bless him!). When A.J. hit the floor, Jake said, "Get up off that floor and stop acting like a girl!" A.J. immediately stood up and angrily said to Jake, "I'm not a girl; I'm a big boy!"

Today

2009-01-10T20:58:00.002-05:00

Dave's mom moved into a new home. She's almost 80 and this hasn't been easy for her. One thing she did in this move is downsize, and she gave several pieces of furniture to Dave and me. This is a good thing for us, because 8 years of little boys in our home have pretty much finished off what furniture we did have. So I spent a good portion of today arranging furniture. That was fun, but it was also tiring and aggravated my arthritis.

A nice shower and some downtime on the computer, AND a couple of Tylenol...now, I'm ready.

May your Sunday be blessed and inspiring.

Philip

2009-01-08T20:18:00.002-05:00

Phil is the middle grandson. He is a little sweetie, most of the time. When I picked the boys up for church this week, Phil said he wanted to come and live at my house. It seems that one of his favorite toys had gotten broken and he was mad at the person who broke it, and felt that if he came and lived with us, his stuff wouldn't get broken.

I laughingly told him he couldn't come live with us. Jenni's boyfriend, D, popped his head into the room and suggested that Phil just go ahead and pack his suitcase and move in with us. Next thing I know, Phil is upstairs packing up a suitcase. He looked SO cute coming down the steps with his little suitcase--it says, "goin' to grandma's."

Of course, he went back home after church. It was so sweet, though, and I have to admit that if I were a little younger, I'd spend a whole lot more time with those boys.

Friday

2009-01-02T20:44:00.004-05:00

The weekend is here. Dave and I have decided to try and spend one-on-one time with the grandsons, rather than have them all here at once. We are at the age that all of them at once is a bit overwhelming--the noise level and the activity level are off the charts! So tonight Nate is spending the night with us. Tomorrow night Phil will be here and then Sunday afternoon we will have AJ until about supper time.

We love these boys. They are precious, and we are blessed.

God is good.

Happy New Year!

2009-01-01T18:20:00.002-05:00

Another quiet day at the Wood household. Dave and I slept until around 9 this morning, which is VERY late for me. We picked up number 1 grandson, Nate, and took him to his favorite place to eat (K&W--can you believe that?). While there, I noticed a little twinge in my "gut". Having had three sick grandsons and one sick daughter since Friday last week, I got a bit worried, especially when all of a sudden the blood drained from my head and into my stomach and began a mighty big churning. We decided we should get out of the restaurant with all due haste. After I stood up and walked a bit, the feeling went away, and I came home and lay down.

I've been taking meds for an ear infection and wondered if maybe that wasn't some of the problem. It may be. But for now, I'm just sitting as quietly as possible, hoping not to be sick.

Isn't it funny how we do that? We know we are going to be sick, we know we'll feel better after we are sick, but we fight it. I have in the past--and I may again tonight--sat in a chair all night refusing to move and willing myself not to be sick.

I have to go to work tomorrow. It's the first of the month, and we will have MEGA orders for product to be delivered. So I really need to feel better by morning.

Happy new year, everyone. May this be the year.....

My Three Grandsons

2008-12-30T20:12:00.001-05:00

Photobucket Album

Christmas 2008

2008-12-30T18:45:00.000-05:00

This has been a very different Christmas season from any Dave and I have experienced in our 32 years together. For the first time since I was pregnant with our son, Josh, Dave and I were in our home, by ourselves on Christmas morning. For the first time, our daughter and her family were living in a different location. For the first time since their births, the grandsons all woke up in their own home and ran excitedly to see what was under the tree in their home.

Honestly, Dave and I weren't sure how we were going to like it--whether or not this empty-nest thing we've wished for was going to be okay or not. I have to say, though, weird as it was, it wasn't bad at all. We had a quiet morning, just the two of us. This gave us time to prepare our minds for the rest of the day--jenni and the boys' arrival in early afternoon, visits to our own parents' homes, and all kinds of noise.

So, what we were a bit concerned about turned out to be okay. It was as it should be, I guess.

Let's Pretend

2008-07-30T13:19:00.001-05:00

so last night our daughter picked up grandson #1 around midnight. hubby couldn't sleep because he had taken a 3-hr nap earlier and was wide awake. i was very tired, because i had been doing stuff all evening and had not taken a break. so after nate left, we went to bed. so hubby decides he wants to snuggle and talk. so far, so good. then he decides to play a game of 'pretend.'

him: let's pretend we are marooned on an islands (just watched Castaway), and we are sleeping on the beach. we're covered with coconut leaves (?). there are little sand crabs nibbling at your toes.

me: let's not pretend the sand crabs, ok?

him: ok. let's pretend the stars are out, the wind is blowing a sweet little breeze, and the fire is stoked for the night. let's pretend.......

me: let's pretend you're mute.

after five full minutes of LOUD belly laughing, he finally turned over and let me go to sleep. bless his heart, i love that guy. but DON'T mess with my sleep.

Things My Son Says

2008-03-20T20:04:00.006-05:00

I love my son. He's just a special guy, extremely intelligent, and loves God with all his heart. In my opinion, he and my husband are two of the smartest guys I have ever known. Josh is involved in a theology discussion board. He freely shares his beliefs, quite often the only person with his particular beliefs. Well, except me and maybe one other person. But he is faithful to his understanding of God's Word.

Here are just a few comments he has made:

"...don't become bitter. Somedays you find the edge of bitter and peek over. Just don't fall."

"If you have any affection for who you were before Christ, I'm not sure you can compellingly argue that you've met Christ."

"God is not interested in being our equal partner. He's interested in being our Lord, and having complete reign in our lives."

"We are not called the be well-rounded humans. We are called to be radical, ridiculous Christians."

"Not forgiving is entirely selfish. We are saying to God and someone else that we deserve better and we will punish anyone who trespasses against us."

"Be a Christian. Let your life for Christ define the words - rather than the mistakes or shortcomings of others. Don't let the culture tell you what a Christian is and then run from that. Say to them, 'No, this is what a Christian is,' and then 'Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven.'" (Matthew 5:16 KJV)

"Pretty important [to God] does not necessarily equal "central" or most important. As long as we think we are the center of God's universe, we will never grasp what it is to have God at the pinnacle of our lives. We are to value what God values. If God values us most, then we are to value us most............. get it? If God values God most, and we value what God values, then we will value God most."

Check out Josh's website at http://www.joshwood.org.

wow!

2007-12-10T23:22:00.000-05:00

i can't believe it's been so long since my last post. and life has certainly not been standing still during that time. do you believe that it will be Christmas in TWO weeks? i have to admit, i sure wish life would slow down just a tad. but, with church activities, full-time work, family responsibilities, etc., there doesn't appear to be a slowing down point in the near future. it's all a part of the construction, you know? every experience brings new teaching, new focus, a better understanding of who God is and how He is working in my life.

i read a saying the other day that goes like this: "Everything works out okay in the end. If it's not okay, it's not the end." i like that.

my mom hurt herself really badly today in a fall. she's in the hospital right now, and i'm not sure how long she will be there, but if you would take a moment to pray for her, i'd so appreciate it. she's just not in good health, and i hate to see her in such pain all the time.

my daughter and grandsons have moved back in with us for a while. she's looking for an affordable apartment and a different job. another prayer request, if you please.

so, what has God been constructing in your life these days?

About that Foot

2007-08-17T18:01:00.000-05:00

After 10 days of a swollen, bruised, painful foot, I went to my foot doctor. They x-rayed my foot and found that one of the bones has a hairline fracture. So they wrapped up my foot with a medicated bandage, which I have to wear for two days. Then I have to wear a "boot" for two weeks. I was a little concerned that they were gonna want to do something like stick a needle in my foot or something. I was NOT looking forward to that. Anyway... that's the update on the foot situation.

Of course, this means that all the stuff I had planned for this weekend will now not get done. sigh. I need a maid....

New Construction Under Way

2007-08-07T19:15:00.000-05:00

We never stop growing, you know? No matter what our age or life experience, God always has new 'stuff' for us; sometimes it's really fun stuff, sometimes it's not so fun.

I wouldn't classify my last few weeks as fun, by any stretch. Beginning in June, when I found out that the company I work for had been sold, along with its employees, to minor surgery, to my daughter moving out of our home and taking our three grandsons with her, it's just been ... challenging. Over a weekend I went from being an office manager and running an office single-handedly to being 'new,' knowing nothing, feeling like a nobody, feeling un-needed and unnecessary.

My hubby is being so supportive. He's also being sensible, which I really need. Yes, really, I do. I'm not being sarcastic. He keeps reminding me that this may be my new mission field. He's right, of course (he says he's always right!!). Every place a Christian goes should be considered as an opportunity to witness for the Lord and share the gospel. Can't do that if I'm pouting. Better stop pouting, then.

On the really bright side, Nate, the oldest grandson, will be living with Dave and me during the school year. He will be in the 2nd grade. His school is only about 5 minutes from our house and about 25 minutes from our daughter's apartment. It just makes sense that he stay with us.

**********
You won't believe what I did. I was puttting my lunch in the the refrigerator at work on Wednesday and knocked a can of soda off the top shelf. It fell right on the top of my left foot and immediately bruised. By lunch it had swelled to a huge knot on the top of my foot, so that I had to take my shoe off. I've worn a sock the last two days. The top of my foot is completely covered with a bruise, and this evening I dropped my floor sweeper on top of the same foot. Ouch! It's still throbbing.

***********
Saturday will be busy. Two of my youth fellas are coming over to help move the furniture around from upstairs and downstairs. After the big stuff is moved, then I have to put stuff away. Then later I have to keep the boys for jenni while she works that evening. Yep, the day will be busy, but if it's all moved by bedtime, that will be great!

Enough for now. How's your life going?

Fanny Packs

2007-06-19T11:09:00.001-05:00

Recently my dear hubby and i attended the Meineke Car Care Bowl game in Charlotte, NC. In their stadium brochure, they list what items are acceptable and not acceptable to bring into the stadium. Sure I was within the guidelines of what was acceptable, I willingly opened up my purse for the lady to scan. Then she said to me, "Ma'am, please remove your fanny pack and place it on the table so that I can inspect it." I looked at her blankly for a second before replying, "I'm not wearing a fanny pack." She reached over, pulled open my jacket, and took a look. Quietly she said, "I'm sorry, ma'am. My mistake."

Of all the nerve.....

Quiet Around Here

2007-05-25T18:11:00.000-05:00

My daughter is spending a few days with a friend here in town. She has her boys with her, so it's very quiet in the house. It's almost so quiet I don't know what to do with myself. Last night I sat in my chair and snoozed through a couple shows. Tonight, as you can see, I'm playing on the computer.

So this is what life would be like if they didn't live here--quiet. No noise, no mess, no wild little boys who, at the end of the day, are just so precious to me. It's good, this few days of quiet and rest. It'll help me prepare for the chaos that most surely will come when they all return to the house. Perhaps I will find myself to be more patient by the time they get back home. Perhaps they will be different... nah, forget that.

I guess I'll go fold some clothes or wash some dishes now.

Or maybe I'll just take a little snooze here in my chair.

Ah, decisions, decisions....

Valentine's Day Poem

2007-02-10T19:24:00.000-05:00

I was born on Valentine's Day
My mama's pride and joy
She was a child of 14 years
I was her 'real live toy'

She could have given me away
And gone back to her teenage world
But we stuck together and raised each other
My mama and me, her Valentine girl

been a while

2007-01-18T11:06:00.000-05:00

i haven't written anything in a while. it's like my brain is taking a vacation from writing ideas. so what to do? just sit in front of an empty screen? it's what a lot of folks who write say--no matter what, set aside a time each day to write and STAY there, even if you don't write anything... so, i'm writing something. happy now?

seriously, i have adopted a new mindset for 2007; LOVE THE LIFE YOU'RE LIVING. does that sound simple to you?

I'm going to use the verse by Paul, "I have learned whatever state I am in to be content."
(now what state am I in again?)

more on this later.

I Can Never

2006-10-09T15:02:00.000-05:00

In past weeks, on one of the discussion boards I frequent, we discussed in great detail one day what would happen to the person who dared to ever hurt one of our children or grandchildren. We held back no contempt for such a one who would commit a heinous crime against a family member, nor did we hold back the description of exactly what we’d do to such a one. And then it happened—in a matter of two weeks, three killings at different schools in our country; a principal killed by a sick young man, a young girl killed by her abuser just as her rescuers broke through the door, and ten young girls tied together so they couldn’t run away from a deranged man who killed five of them and left the other five critically wounded. And the world watched in horror and revulsion.

All of those events were horrible, and family members lost precious loved ones. Yet my greatest focus has been on those ten little girls who were tied together and killed or seriously wounded. They were members of a peaceful, quiet Amish community—children who didn’t know much about the world’s events that weren’t shared by their parents or leaders and who, most assuredly, had no idea of the horrors being committed in schools across their nation. But then it happened to them, as they quietly held classes in their little one-room schoolhouse, on a quiet morning like any other in their community. There are surfacing stories of bravery shown by the girls and peace even in the face of sure death. In shock, I watched it all on the news—the outside world intruding into their lives with ambulances, police cars, crime scene investigators, news reporters and curious onlookers.

Yet what has affected me the most about these losses, and I believe will continue to affect me for the rest of my life, is the complete and total forgiveness shown to the man who killed their children and that community's outstretched arms of comfort for his widow and his children. Wow. As I read the accounts of these gentle souls, who washed their own dead children’s bodies and prepared them for burial, yet taught forgiveness and compassion as they did so, I am confronted by my own lack of forgiveness. I am ashamed by my previous words of condemnation on such a one who would dare 'rock my world' with violence. I am also challenged to learn the lessons taught by this community and by others who have faced terrible losses, while all I have done is talk about the “what ifs” should I ever lose a family member in such a way.

Where did the Amish community find this ability to forgive? Why, the same place we all can find it—in the Holy Bible. Jesus told us to forgive others as we would have them forgive us. He told us that if we did not forgive others their sins against us, God would not forgive us for our sins. With His own dying breath, He forgave those who had conspired against Him and murdered Him. **

How many times have I held unforgiveness in my own heart? Too many. How can we, who call ourselves followers of Jesus, stand in our righteous indignation and decide that we cannot forgive one who hurts us? Certainly, some of the hurt is real; but much of it is pure pride. My husband, a pastor, was chided by a church member several years ago for constantly preaching past the noon hour. My husband smiled at told the member that he didn’t much watch the clock as long as the Holy Spirit had a message to convey through him, and that if the member felt he needed to leave exactly at noon, then he should feel free to do so, no hard feelings. The church member perceived my husband telling him he wasn’t very spiritual and quit attending church for a while, until my husband visited with him and apologized for any perceived affront to his character. Do you know what this lifelong church member told my husband? “Well, I’ll have to think about it—I may never be able to forgive you.”

Yet when one community suffered the horrifying loss and wounding of ten of their precious children, they took God’s Words seriously—they forgave, and they leaned upon God for their comfort. No threats of lawsuits, no angry words of recrimination, no raging at God.

How can I ever do less, now that such a standard has been set for me? May God forgive me for my past spirit of unforgiveness. May He renew my spirit with a desire to be more Christ-like, no matter the situation. May we all accept the challenge set before us by this community of people who refuse to hate.

**scripture references: Matthew 6:12, 14; Luke 23:34

© October 2006

Diary of a Vacation

2006-09-26T11:21:00.000-05:00

Dave and I haven't had an extended vacation in about three years, mainly because of finances. So when my aunt and uncle offered us a week in their time share at Myrtle Beach, we jumped at it. We arrived around 8 p.m. Sunday evening, but because of a "computer glitch," our reservation was not in the system. oops!Stay calm, don't panic. We had our confirmation information in hand, so of course they had to make accommodations for us. We ended up spending our first night on the 10th floor in a side apartment with an ocean view, but not the oceanfront room we had requested. However, because the mistake was theirs, they cleaned up the room which had been vacated late that night and by noon on Monday we were in our oceanfront room, staring out at the rolling waves. Ahhhhh. Monday was a bit overcast, and the waters were as gray as the sky. Since we are a little older, we didn't rush down to the beach and throw our blankets on the sand. We opted, instead, to lie on our couches in our sand-free room and stare out the window. This way we avoided all the sand and humidity, and enjoyed the beach from the comfort of our room.

This morning, I awoke early and decided to watch the sunrise. I sat on our balcony and watched as the sun lit the sky, first in a small stream of light across the top of the clouds and then in great brilliance as it rose over the clouds. I taped it to show to my grandsons when we return home next week.

Today the ocean is a beautiful blue, and calm. Through our glass doors I can hear the ocean as it washes up on the shore. I hear children's voices as they play on the sand. Dave and I watched a para-sailor out in the water a bit ago. It looks like fun, but since large quantities of water and I don't mix, I'll just enjoy the fun vicariously. And we watched as a young married couple attempts to enjoy themselves while keeping their two young and very active children in their sights. We chuckled at this, remembering very well those years for ourselves--and thankful it isn't us this week. We still haven't gone down to the beach. It's very warm today, and quite frankly, I'm enjoying sitting in my air-conditioned room way too much.

We'll venture down to the beach before the week is over. I have to gather some shells as a memento of my stay, as is my habit whenever we go to the beach. Right now, though, we are catching up on some much-needed peace and quiet. No kids to keep up with or entertain, no schedules to manage, nothing to do but what we want to do--I could get used to this!

Church Carpet and the Streets of Gold

2006-08-27T17:23:00.000-05:00

Recently I was on a discussion board, and we were chatting back and forth about churches in general. It seemed the consensus among most of the folks was that churches are beginning to fall away from our original calling--to glorify God with our lives and lead others to know the Savior, Jesus Christ. The discussion got very personal for some who have been disillusioned with their local body of believers and the silly things we find to argue about. As a pastor's wife, I've been witness to the many ways we find to argue and the things we find to argue about. For instance, we had a family leave the church because we decided to paint the wall behind the choir loft from brown to white. We've had church folk leave because the vote went against them as to the color the new carpet would be in the sanctuary. We even had a fella leave the church--I am not lying here--because we moved classrooms around in our educational building! All the while, our unchurched neighbors failed to hear the gospel of Christ being told by us. My comment to the group was this--"What difference does it make what color our santuary carpet is? Someday we will walk on streets of pure gold. But if we don't get busy and start acting like real believers, our neighbors won't."

Not all things about church are bad. Some of the best times of worship for me have come while involved in corporate worship in our sanctuary. I get an opportunity every single week to be involved in the lives of a number of teenagers and hopefully to effect eternal changes in them. Some very fine people attend the local body of Christ (we are the Church; the building is where the Church meets). They are self-sacrificing, hard working, honest people. And I love them.

In every family there are problems--people who refuse to deny themselves for the good of the whole body; "eggshell" people who get upset if you look at them wrong/don't look at them at all/and on it goes. Those folks won't be pleased EVER, until they get their lives in line with what Jesus expects of us--stepping out of ourselves and forgetting what we want so that the good of the body can be accomplished. But that's no reason to stay away.

God made us to need each other. I find the best place for me to find like-minded believers is in my local church. The benefits of being involved in each other's lives so that we can lift each other up far outweigh any negatives that might occur. I'll take the church, faults and all.

Journal Entry - May 24, 2006

2006-05-24T07:28:00.000-05:00

Life comes at you fast sometimes. Just yesterday we lost two church members. They had both been ill for some time.

The lady who died, Lois, was very active in the nursery ministry at church. When we first started attending the church, she was in the nursery every Sunday. Our grandson Nate loved her. About two years ago, she began experiencing some heart problems, and from there her health just deteriorated. She had a stroke a couple of weeks ago, and yesterday she went HOME. Face to face with the Savior. What an occasion!

Same with the man who died. His name was Ken. When we met Ken, we found a quiet, gentle, compassionate man. He loved the Lord with all his heart. He cried for the lost. He prayed for their souls. Ken and Dave became good friends and prayer warriors over the last five years. He was totally evangelistic in his approach to life. In November, he was given about six weeks to live, at best. But he fought to live at least through his 50th wedding anniversary, which was in February. He was able to witness his granddaughter get married, as well as one of his sons. He always kept a positive attitude and never forgot to witness about His Savior. Yesterday, he went to sleep for a nap, and he just never woke up. Well, he did wake up, but when he did, he was in a new body. No more pain for this dear man. And he was also face-to-face with the Savior he loved so dearly on the earth. I'd have liked to have been there for that reunion.

My precious husband, their pastor, will be doing two funerals this week. Ken's funeral will be especially tough on him, because they were good friends. But it will give him an opportunity to echo Ken's words once more to Ken's family as they gather for their final goodbyes. That's exactly what Ken wanted, and that's exactly what Dave will do.

I wrote a poem once that went like this:
Someday my life will be no more
And I wonder...
Will anyone knock at my door
to mourn my passing?

Even more than that, will they have anything to remember about me that's eternal? Did I do my best for the Lord? Did I witness when I had the chances to do so? Was I a wise counsellor? Was God given the glory because of the witness I left? These are important questions for me. My ultimate goal in life is to glorify God with all I do. May I not let Him be put to shame because of me.

I can tell you that He was glorified by the two lives who met Him face to face yesterday. If the sky looks brighter today, it's because of the glow off the crowns they received from their Master.

Ahhhh

2006-05-19T08:11:00.000-05:00

“Grandma, can I hold you?”
“Sure, baby, climb up here on my lap, and you can hold me as long as you want. Mmmm, I love for my little buddy to hold his grandma.”
...
“Grandma?”
“Yes, sweetie?”
“What do you want to be when you grow up?”
“Hmm, let’s see. I think, hmm, I think I want to be a grandma when I grow up.”
“You already are a grandma!”
“Oh, that’s right! Well, then I guess I got to be what I wanted to be.”
“You’re silly, grandma.”
“No, you’re silly!”
“No, you’re silly, grandma!”
“And what do you want to be when you grow up?”
“Spiderman.”
“Wow, that’s pretty neat. So you can help people?”
“Yeah, and fly around and make webs and catch the bad guys.”
“I’m glad you want to be the good guy.”
“And I’ll take care of you and granddaddy and mommy and Phil and A.J."
“I know you will, darling.”
…
“Grandma, can I live with you forever?”
“You can live with me as long as you want.”
…
“Grandma?”
“Yes?”
“I love you.”
“I love you too, buddy. I love you too.”

Soul Power

2006-04-26T11:02:00.000-05:00

My friend and co-worker said to me today, “Isn’t it strange that someone so involved in the church has so many difficulties in their life?”

She was talking about me. I had just finished a tirade about the abuses of one of my family members against the rest of their family. I was tired and stressed, and I uncharacteristically “blew a gasket.” I apologized for the outburst, but I could see the thoughts about it all written on her face. To my friend’s way of thinking, it just seems odd that I, who have been a Christian for so many years and have devoted my life to serving Christ, should have so much difficulty in my life.

Several years ago Billy Graham’s daughter, Ruth, wrote a book titled In Every Pew Sits a Broken Heart. As I read her book, I personally identified with her sentiment. It also caused me to look around at the people in the pews in my own church. Yep, there’s that sweet little 90-something couple who have been married since they were 16 years old. They are still sweethearts after all these years. Because of the cancer eating away at her body, she probably has less than a year to live. In that row sits a mother who lost her young adult daughter a couple years ago and is now raising her grandchild. The teenagers in that pew—wow, the daily difficulties they face in their home lives and other relationships. The list goes on, pew after pew. And still they show up, week after week, worshipping God and finding what they need from their relationship with Him and their fellowship with other believers.

How do we who are “so involved with the church” continue to function, considering the difficulties we face in our lives? For me, the answer is my relationship with God. When I accepted Christ as my Savior at the age of 18, I never once looked back. I’ve never regretted that decision, and I’ve found the strength I need in that relationship for every challenge I have faced over these many years. The life I live is most certainly not the life I requested. However, the God I serve is everything He ever promised He would be.

When my natural inclination is to stay in bed curled up in a fetal ball and give in to depression, the Lord stays near and gently whispers His love into my spirit. When the only place that seems acceptable to me is lying on the floor for lack of personal strength, the Lord sits beside me and strokes my head until I am able to gather the strength He gives and pick myself up. God did not guarantee me that I would never have problems. He just vowed to never leave me, and He never has.

T.D. Jakes calls it “living through the dying places.” I believe that says it very well.

Umbrella

2006-03-20T09:12:00.000-05:00

In early fall of that year, one phone call and two words changed our lives forever. The storm clouds that had been building in our lives for the past two years had finally burst and nothing would ever again be the same. Our precious child, the "sparkle" in the family, was pregnant. This dear child had ignored all the teachings we had ever drilled into her and now a little life was on its way. We were devastated, deeply wounded and rubbed raw with emotion. My husband and I clung to each other for comfort. We walked around for days as if in mourning over a loss. Indeed, it was a loss--the death of nearly every ideal we had carried with us through our married life; the death of believing that if you do everything as right as you can, it will all turn out "good." And now the consequences this child had screamed at us that would be hers to carry were ours to carry as well. The consequences of our baby’s behavior affected every single member of her family, and still do to this day.

For years my husband and I taught our children about the umbrella of protection in their lives. We drew an umbrella and explained to them that God was the cover of the family; under that was the husband, appointed by God as the head of the family; next came the wife, who was under the authority of the husband; and then came the children, who were under the authority of their parents. We cautioned them to stay safe under the umbrella, to obey God's order of family "government." Safety could be found under that umbrella. But if any member should step out from under the authority of God and change the order of things, devastation could occur.

At about the age of 16 our daughter began stepping out from under. We spent hours wondering where she was. We grounded her, and she found a way to sneak out. She lied about where she was going; she laid out of school; she did most of the things that a child in rebellion against God does. Of course, much of this we found out after the fact. Our discipline did not deter her; she always found a way around it. And then, the month before she left for college, she spent a few days with a friend in another town and during a drunken spree, it happened.

That phone call was only the beginning. Today that precious child of ours has three children. She continues to live in our home, and we spend large amounts of time and money to help her support her little family. Why do we do it? Are we stupid? Maybe. But, more than stupid, we are children of God, forgiven by His grace, recipients of His mercy. We cannot find it in our spiritual belief system to throw our daughter out, because not only her life, but the lives of three precious beautiful little boys would also be affected.

Has she returned to the roots of the Christian lifestyle we taught her as a child? No. She resists God, because even though He promises He WILL, she can’t imagine Him ever being able to forgive her. She has not reached her “woman-at-the-well” desperation point yet. So we hold on, praying that God will be able to get through to her because of our love and the love of our church folks.

We have given up our “empty-nest” years and have become fully involved in the lives of our little buddies. The only real man they have on a daily basis is their grandfather—and he is a real man. He has taught them things their birth fathers should be teaching them. It is he who spends hours playing outside with them, telling them stories, and showing them how to be a man. I am simply grandma—the person they run to when all else in life seems too harsh for them. The arms of this grandmother are their comfort zone, and believe me when I tell you many evenings these arms are full with all three of my buddies. They even have their “side” they usually sit on—the 6-year-old on the right, the 3-year-old on the left and the baby in the middle (I have to get a bigger chair!).

On more than one occasion I have held my heart in anguish over the lives that have been affected because of one individual in our family who decided to experience life out from under the umbrella. The consequences of the actions out from under are lived by our precious daughter first, next her darling little ones, and then those who love her and help her as God would have us do. It’s not an easy life. Some days we are angry at our lot. When we are able to discuss it together, though, my husband and I always come to the point of acceptance that we have so much to learn and share from these circumstances—circumstances that will make my husband a better pastor, and me a better encourager and comforter.

Will it also make our daughter better in the end? I believe God keeps His promises and in time we will see this come to pass.

This one thing I do know—God is good, all the time. He will be glorified by these circumstances. This I believe.

A Tribute to My Friend

2006-03-03T15:21:00.000-05:00

Too many times we wait until a friend has died to tell the world what a wonderful person she/he was, and I'm just as guilty as the next person about that. Today, however, I would like to pay tribute to a very dear friend, and pray that God will allow me to be present as she is presented with her crown in glory just so that I might bask in the glow that it will cast off on those around her.

Her name is Angela. She's one of those friends who, over the years of my life, has taught me what it means to be a true friend. No matter what has gone in my life--the good, the bad, the unlovely--she has been there.

Sometimes God has sent her to me through supernatural means. Really. I remember one particularly bad week in my life about five years ago. I was torn inside about a family situation and not sure how to handle it. I spent a lot of time crying and praying and struggling. One afternoon, on my way home from work, I cried out loud to God, "I could use a little help here, Father!" Nothing happened that evening, but the next day I received an email from Angela which said, "Okay, what's going on? God sent you to me in three different dreams last night. I'm home if you need to call." IF I need to call?

Rabbit trail here: Isn't God good? Don't you just love the way He works in our lives? I sure do.

Anyway, I picked that phone right up and called my dear friend, Angela. And just as sure as I knew she would, she counseled me from the Word of God and from her experience. Her advice was right on the mark, of course. And I took it.

I received an email from Angela today. She first asked about our family, to which I responded with the latest. Then she replied back and opened up about her life, which is currently undergoing a certain amount of stress.

Now, let me tell you about my friend, Angela. She is a gifted woman--exceptional seamstress, wonderful cook, great homemaker. But above all that, for as long as I've known her, Angela has been a caregiver. She cares for her husband and has successfully raised two great kids. She takes care of other folk's children, as well as having cared for up two elderly family members at the same time, both of whom lived in her home with her family. And when those two rooms became available as those dear family members went home to heaven, she brought in another family member to care for. Does Angela consider herself a martyr? Not in the selfish sense, I assure you. But has she died to Christ to carry out His will for her life? My observations say overwhelmingly, "YES!"

Is Angela perfect? No. She has days when she'd like to run away and forget it all. Who wouldn't? Even knowing that your life calling has become being a caregiver doesn't make the stress easy to bear. Is everything else in her life perfect? No. Whose is? Does she complain about it? Not as much or as often as I complained about having the stomach flu this week!

What I also want you to know about my dear friend Angela is this: I love her. I love her for being a true and faithful friend, even when I was not the same to her. I love her for being an example to me of what it means to be truly unselfish. I love her for listening when God keeps her awake all night with my name on her mind. I love her cooking. I love her practicality. I love the absolutely perfect, right-on-target cards she sends me. I just love her.

And if you know her, I know you love her too. And if you don't know her, just ask Jesus about her when you get to heaven. He'll point out the mansion with the bright glow coming out all the windows from all the jewels in her crown.