What Standard Guides Your Life? (You might be surprised.)

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We Have a Warrior God

I saw "War Room" this past weekend with friends, and it inspired me to become more disciplined about praying for loved ones. Here's my review.

This movie is produced by the Kendrick brothers, the writers who gave us "Facing the Giants," "Fireproof," and "Courage." I've seen all these movies, and the messages are always good and on target. However, the actors (not well-knowns, other than Kirk Cameron) have not been stellar, and this always trips me up a bit.

I understand that Affirm Pictures (the Kendrick brothers company) is a small outfit. (Hollywood doesn't, in general, produce movies with a Christian message.) But, I support them. I'm going to see every movie they produce, because that's how they will grow and bring in revenue and at some point draw the bigger names. I get that making movies is about money. I hate it, but I get it.

Having said that, I loved "War Room." It's the best yet from the Kendrick brothers. The actress who plays the leading character, Elizabeth, is very good and the 10-year old daughter, Danielle, is played by the most beautiful child I think I've ever seen on screen. Miss Clara, the elderly star (although the actress who plays her is much younger) is a firecracker of fun. Good role models, all these female characters.

The 'war room' is a closet in Miss Clara's house where she prays - and fights for - her loved ones. The ones who aren't interested in God, the ones who openly mock Him, the ones who don't know they need Him, the ones who don't want to need Him, and the ones who love Him and try to serve Him, but keep messing up. Don't we all fall into one of those categories? The 'war room' is where Miss Clara, on her knees, cries out to God to fight for her loved ones.

It's a beautiful premise, God fighting for us. Fighting for us in this dirty world where we are so easily swayed by beauty and money and pleasure and power. We are like sheep, blindly following what the world offers, thinking we must get our share. We then cling to it like it's going to last - which it isn't.

We can be so deceived.

The husband in "War Room" is Tony, a successful business man, who gets everything he wants professionally. But, then, due to worldly temptations, he loses it all. He gets too big for his britches (scripture calls that pride) and soon all he has are a praying wife and a sweet daughter, who then teaches him how to double-dutch jump rope because he has nothing else to do.

Seeing the guy humbled and on his knees before God....whew...it's a powerful scene. (And very attractive. If men understood how attractive a praying man is, they would seek God and get His guidance every day. Women want Godly men.)

The movie has a satisfying ending, not perfect, but satisfying. Like life - we don't get everything we want, but we get enough.

The message of the movie is that God is a warrior on our behalf. He will fight our battles, if we ask him to. He is bigger than our self-reliance and our fear. He's bigger than our weaknesses and our addictions and our vices. He is paramount to healthy relationships (we really don't know how to love one another without His influence.) With a mighty sword, He will fight on our behalf.

He can slay all our dragons, if we ask Him to. And then get out of the way. Because things are going to fall.

Check out "War Room" and see if you aren't inspired to call on God as a warrior in your life.

(p.s. This post is not sponsored by the Kendrick brothers. They don't even know I exist.)

Life at Both Ends

My 94-year old Mom has been in the hospital for nine days.

A few states away, there is a new baby in the family, just two days old.

Both are wrapped in cozy blankets, both are fragile and needy and vulnerable.


Both are loved so much.


Opposite ends of the spectrum, these two lives. One is surrounded by joy and tears. The other is accompanied by frequent sadness and tears. Both tug on the heart and draw us closer to God, who authors all life.

Mom will be 95 in just a few days, and in a month, her latest great grandson will be visiting. I pray we can get a photo of these two together, but today Mom talked of being so tired and getting a feeling that her life is winding down, so we will see what God has planned.

When I look at Mom, I see a long, full life.   When I gaze on this sweet new grand nephew of ours, I see a long, full life. Mom has many memories; our grand nephew has none. I cannot visualize our grand nephew at 95.  Only God knows what his journey will be. 

Life is short and long at the same time. When I'm sitting with Mom, who is often confused these days, the hours are long because there is a relenting grief that this may be the last day I see her.  When my brother holds his new grandson, I'm sure he's aware that this little boy will grow up as fast as his own sons did. Time seems to be measured by the heart - what we are celebrating, and what is painful. 

Life is amazing and scary and surprising at both ends.  It has value at both ends.  And every day in between. 

My Roamin' Catholic Faith

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Shifting Perspective

I've been praying for certain things all my life; change this circumstance, Lord, this person, change me, Lord. I pray the same things over and over, and mostly, nothing changes. It puzzles me.

However, this morning, I read in Jesus Calling that God suggests we stop asking Him to do what we want, and instead look for what He's already doing - and align ourselves with that.  Hmmm.

I thought about that a long time. It took me a while to find things He's doing in the circumstances I'm praying about - because as I just wrote, I really don't see Him at work.  At least, He's not producing the results I want to see.  So, what is He doing, if he's not doing what I'd like Him to do?

What I realized after a while is that my prayers are pretty much about me.  What would make my life easier, my stress lower, my life less aggravating. I do want good things for my loved ones, so my prayers are about wanting peace for people in my life as well.  I believe God wants that for all of us.

But, I mainly just want relief from my own worries and fears. If people would just trust God and live accordingly, I'd have more peace in my own life.  If God would just grab hold of people, and shake 'em up, I'd be happy, because they would see how much they are loved and how much He has planned for them.  And they would want that for themselves. And life would be good.

For some reason, God doesn't seem to operate that way.  He has his own way of doing things, which seems pretty slow to me, because I'm an impatient human. I wonder where He is when people I love are making poor choices. What is He doing in that situation?  I believe God is always pursuing us, so, even in disappointing circumstances, I believe He is present - doing something.

But, only God knows what.

So after today's reading in Jesus Calling, I'm going to start looking for what the Master is doing in the seemingly-nothing-is-happening messes I pray about. I'm determined to find something he's tweaking, even if it's "well, so-and-so didn't get hit by a bus today." I do believe He's always orchestrating events, even though He doesn't share what He's up to with me.

I'm also going to try to be more aware of things He's doing that have nothing to do with my prayers.  I want to see Him work in any capacity, because He puts on the best show.  When I've experienced a "God-thing," my heart is warmed, I grin from ear to ear, and my faith expands.  It reminds me that we have an active God who cares about us.

I cling to that golden promise like this friend is hugging our daughter-in-law. 

A Wake-up Call

I like to think I honor God in all aspects of my life.  I'm pretty clear about how He wants to me live, and I have been for most of my adult life.  Lately, however, I've discovered I've made some choices mindlessly - choices I didn't think God cared much about. And I'm paying for them now.

I'm talking about food choices. I never thought much about my diet, only that I probably ate too much.  Like every woman on the planet, I've had moments of "that's it, I'm getting rid of this extra weight. I'm joining the gym, blah, blah, blah." And I've lost 10 or 15 pounds.  Then I get lazy, and it all comes back.

As I wrote a few weeks ago, in December I had blood work done that showed I have very high blood markers for rheumatoid arthritis.  This was shocking, as I have no swollen or painful joints - just bad blood work. After getting conflicting reports from rheumatologists in my area, I ended up at the Mayo Clinic in Jacksonville, FL. The doc there suggested I start meds right away, because it looks as though RA is coming.

I did tons of research on RA and read a book called The Inflammation Nation, which was completely eye-opening, and changed my thinking on what I've been eating all my life. RA is an inflammatory disease where the immune system is on overdrive. It's constantly on the attack, which eventually destroys joint tissue.  Untreated, or uncorrected, people with RA can end up in wheel chairs.

I'm also reading The Daniel Plan by Rick Warren, a book about honoring God and our bodies by getting back on track with food - eating whole foods, real food, and getting the junk and processed food out of our lives.

I well up as I read parts of it because I'm realizing how misguided my eating pattens have been.  I've not been fueling my body, but poisoning it with things like sugar and too many carbs and "white trash" like white rice, white bread, white crackers, and white potatoes. I've simply been a mindless eater.  Not a conscious one.

I'm praying God will change my thinking on this, because RA is caused by inflammation, which is caused by sugar, the wrong kinds of carbs and "white trash." I didn't know much about inflammation.  I'd heard some of these things before, but I didn't have any health issues - until now - so I just figured I was doing OK.

My Mayo doctor told me I have three months to change my diet and see if we can get my blood work back to normal. By the grace of God, I don't have any joint issues yet, and I'm hoping I can turn things around before I do. 

So, I gave away the boxed, processed items in my pantry. The bulk of my grocery bill is now produce.  I have leaves and sprouts popping out of my 'fridge the moment you open its door. I've discovered I like pea shoots, parsnips, bok choy and Japanese sweet potatoes, things I never tried before. I've learned I don't like turnips and will not be buying those again. I try to have some form of kale every day. 

In overhauling my diet, I've realized this is a spiritual journey for me. Eating was an area of my life I never asked God about. Rick Warren sums up the problem in one sentence: Dedicate your body to God.  Period.

If I do that - daily - I will eat properly. I will feed my body with what it needs to stay strong and healthy. The Daniel Plan reminds me that my body does not belong to me. It was purchased at a price, and God gave it to me to use in the service of others. This never hit me so hard as it has recently.  God has given me a wake up call,  and I pray I correct my course. My family is supportive, for which I'm so grateful.

I have not had a life-changing event such as this in many years, and I regret I did not pay attention to my diet 20 years ago.  Thankfully, we have a God who gives us second chances.

Who's the Cake?

I read a facebook badge last week that really spoke to me.  Then I wrote a short piece about it for MMW and Friends called WE ARE THE ICING, NOT THE CAKE.

Click on the title link to check it out.  Let me know what you think. You might think you're the cake.  Or someone you love is the cake.  We're easily confused when it comes to desserts. 

A Heavy Heart

I've been blogging in my head a lot lately, just haven't settled in at the computer to write down my thoughts.

Life has been sobering recently.  (Which implies I'm normally drunk, or high, so that is really a goofy statement.)  It's been stacked with serious issues that take some deep thought.

1.  Like ISIS, or ISIL, or whatever.  It's clear we are going to be dealing with these terrorists for quite a while. It's frightening.  

2.  Yesterday was the 13th anniversary of the 9/11/2001 terrorist attack.  This always makes me sad.

3.  UTIs.  I never knew a urinary tract infection (or 8) could cause such problems.

4.  Publication issues.  I'm a first-time author, and my brain is in constant turmoil about which direction to take my book, The 12 Days of Christmas Adventure.  I think about it so much, my brain feels like this.

Doesn't this give you a headache just looking at it?

5.  In addition, we received a letter today that our bank account was one of the many compromised in the recent Home Depot hack.  Ironic, as my husband is an operations manager for Home Depot.

Life is scary and sad and anxiety-ridden at times.  Sometimes, it makes me long for heaven.  Like, right now.

When I think of the horrors going on in the middle east, the beheadings, the kidnappings, the brutal taking of human life, it's more than I can stomach.  Please, come, Lord.  We clearly don't know how to get along.  Our hearts are so depraved and corrupt, we don't deserve the life you have given us.

When I take Dad to one more doctor, and we hear that he is becoming immune to antibiotics because he has had so many in the past year, my heart aches.  I pray, Lord, we need your peace and your guidance, because we are coming to the end of what medicine can do to kill a nasty bug called pseudomonas.

When I don't know which avenue (of several) to take with my book, I just do nothing, which is stupid, because then no progress is made.  Some days I just can't get past this.  So, I bake some cookies.  And eat too many.

When we get a second letter (my credit card was hacked a few months ago) that our finances have been compromised because some people are greedy, destructive thieves, I want to go back to the barter system.  You launder my clothes, and I'll make you cookies.  We can swap chores and resources, and forget the paper money and silver coins.  I might have had more peace of mind living on the Prairie next to the Ingalls.  

We just seem to be making such a mess of things.  Why can't we be kind, and respectful, and share?

I realize I'm not the first human to raise these questions.  And I know the answer, I just wish it was different.  I wish it was repairable.  But, as long as we have free will, there will be messes and hatred and disease.  It's the price we pay for freedom. 

So, it's not a dilemma I can solve.  But, how God must grieve for how we live.  The people we destroy, the opportunities we waste, the gifts we squander, it's all so ruinous.

For the past couple of weeks, I've been taking a little wooden cross with me to bed at nights.  It's shaped to fit in the grip of a hand. 

I talk to God as I grow sleepy and ask Him to help me see things from His view.  He sees all the details of everything, and only He can assure me that, no matter what, He's got His hand on me.

Money will come and go, America will always have enemies, my parents will (probably sooner than later) pass from this life, and my book may never leave my computer.  I need to remember this life is temporary.  I need to hold all things lightly, because all things come to pass.  They don't come to stay.   

In the end, injustices will be righted, and goodness will be rewarded.  And whatever I can do to walk justly and humbly with my God is all I can do.  It's all I can do.

Only One Thing is Unchanging

I just received some news that a blogging buddy has breast cancer.

This makes me sad.  She's a joyous writer who now has to make some difficult decisions.

I'm reminded of Angelina Jolie and her COURAGEOUS CHOICE.

T.D. Jakes wrote that "life is the great equalizer," and I think of that quote often.  No matter how young or beautiful or successful or healthy we are - eventually, we lose it all.  In our final hour, we can't take beauty or strength or money or power with us.

What we can leave behind is the effects of our generosity, or kindness, or sacrifice.  Loved ones will benefit by what we shared and gave, not by what we hoarded or wasted.  When someone I know becomes ill, or dies, I am reminded of this.  As Elton John referenced, our lives are "candles in the wind."  We are bright and shining for only a time, and then we are gone.

As many of you know, my parents are 91 and almost 94.  Their lights are dimming, but they still sparkle when we are with them.  They have made a lasting impact on so many people over the course of their lives.  They were both in the Navy, both served tirelessly in their church for over sixty years, raised four children, and buried one when he was just 23.  They've lost most of their friends and half of their siblings.  They understand heaven is close, but if there's still good work to be done, gosh darn, they're going to do it.

When some people become ill, they question God - why me?  My blogging friend said, Why not me?  I'm no more special than anyone else.  What a beautiful perspective.  As the saying goes, God never promised us a rose garden.  Even if He had, lest we forget - a rose garden is full of thorns.

Such is life here on the planet.  Roses and thorns.  God wants us to know He is with us through both - the smelling of the roses and the wounding by the thorns.  His love for us, His plans for us don't change.   He is the same yesterday, today, and tomorrow.

After the rose petals are crushed beneath the snow, and the thorns are rendered powerless, and the breasts are removed, and legs no longer work, and memories are no longer clear, God and His love for us is exactly the same.

Why Writing is Like Motherhood

The two things I'm most crazy about in life are: 

1.  Being a mom
2.  Writing
3.  Chocolate

OK, three things.

But, in the grand scheme of life, motherhood and writing really define me.  I knew from the time I was about eight I wanted to be a mom.  I discovered in junior high school I loved to write.  (I also discovered I did not have the legs for mini-skirts.)

My three children are now young adults, but I still squeeze them whenever I can and pray for them every day, that they will be constantly aware of how much God loves them and know that His plans for them will be more fulfilling than any harebrained ideas of their own.

My firstborn and me

I pray for my writing too - that my harebrained ideas will be filtered out so God can run the show there as well.  Writing is like mothering, in that I'm directing characters that sometimes have minds of their own. 

Motherhood and writing are both huge investments.  Long hours, sleepless nights, mistakes and do-overs.  Shaping character.  Big hopes and dreams.  Praying I get it right.

If I haven't talked to/seen my kids in a while, I get restless.  I just need to touch base, see if all is well.  Same thing with writing.  I have to transfer words to paper (or monitor) regularly, or I get cranky.

Life can spin so fast, sometimes I feel invisible.  Writing inserts a dowel into the bike spokes and halts everything.  It creates space in my head to think and reflect and imagine.  I remember feeding my children at three a.m. and feeling the same way.  Only the moon was up with me as I gently rocked my babies.  For half an hour, the world stopped, and I could think and remember and pray.   

Motherhood and writing have another thing in common: rejection.  We've all heard "I hate you!" from a wailing toddler.  Rejection letters feel the same way, even though they're on fancy letterhead.  The cut is deep, and we might just want to give up.  I don't know what I'm doing! I've thought more than once.  On both writing and motherhood.

Motherhood and writing are the same in my heart.  They are passionate, often tedious, rewarding, soul-searching endeavors.  They can make me cry and rejoice in the same day.

My desire for them is also the same:  I want the end product to honor God.

Q is for Quick Quotes

Today's post for Q is QUICK:  Three of my favorite QUOTES, which on more than one occasion, have helped me stop short and rethink my path.

1. From Maya Angelou: "When people show you who they are, believe them."   I learned the hard way that people's actions do speak louder than their words.

2.  This one...

Enough said.

3.  "Don't judge me because my sin is different from yours." 
I saw this on Facebook, but I don't know the original source.  It has come to mind many times since.  We ALL fall short of God's plan for our lives.  No sin is worse than another.  We are ALL broken, and we ALL need redemption.  Amen.

Have a blessed Easter!

Lessons Learned (8 things I've learned from caretaking)

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Sharing My Care-taking Heart

I was going to acknowledge St. Patrick's day yesterday, but the day got away from me, and before I knew it, it was tomorrow.  Or today.   Anyhoo...hope you all had a shamrock-y kind of day.  I have some Irish in me by way of my maternal grandmother, but I did not get the lovely green eyes, or auburn hair.  Our daughter got those.  She's pretty lucky too, so I think she's the Irish gem in our family. 

Today...I found myself here with Dad again...

If you guessed we were at the library or Pizza Hut, you get a goose egg.  We made our weekly trip to the ER for another infection.  Since the placement of Dad's SP tube, infections have been popping up weekly.  We're on a hamster wheel...around and around we go.  He's only off antibiotics for a day or two before another bug starts brewing.  We see the urologist again on Thursday. 

How long can this go on, I keep asking myself?  Can one be on antibiotics forever?  Doesn't seem like a good plan, but what are the options?  A 90+ bladder is a puzzling thing.  Dad's spirits are pretty good, although he's very tired of ER runs.  I'm grateful we have a good ER set-up and to date, the docs and nurses have been very kind.  We should be racking up some frequent flyer miles though. 

We're flying to MD this weekend to help my in-laws get settled in a new apartment.  My father-in-law had a stroke last week and is now in rehab.  The hubs and I are going to be helping clean out the old townhouse and hoping to bring some cheer to these youngsters, who are 85-ish.  When you work with 90-year olds, folks in their 80's look pretty spry.

I've been helping my folks for five years, since Dad's stroke in 2009.  It's been such an eye-opener to realize all that's involved in helping the elderly.  As body parts deteriorate, there are many, many issues that have to be addressed.  Geriatrics is an entire field of study that I never thought two hoots about until my dad needed assistance.  I continue to be surprised by how complicated the body is and how one weak unit affects the others.  It's like trying to play catch up with a cheater.  The game isn't really fair, and we never get ahead.

I know our time with my parents and my in-laws is limited, and we do our best to be helpful.  I somehow think that will change all this - that the right care, enough attention, enough encouragement will make the decline stop, or at least slow down.  But, it doesn't.  This makes me very sad, and sometimes, I just cry for no reason.  I'm not having a bad day, and nothing triggers it, but tears just come.  I think my heart is weary of the long goodbye. 

My sweet mother-in-law with two of her seven children

I've heard people who have a loved one dealing with Alzheimer's talk about this.  Neither my folks, nor my in-laws have been diagnosed with Alzheimer's, just some standard dementia expected at their age.  But, it's true that walking through the years of decline in a loved one is like a relentless grieving.   You know the end is coming, but you don't know when, so you guard yourself, and yet prepare yourself, and the heart goes back and forth and up and down and outward and inward. 

My only strength is in God, and His love for all of us.  I have no strength of my own anymore to uplift and help Mom and Dad.  My flesh is truly weak.  Even up to last year, I thought the efforts of my family could change things, but they really can't.  There will come a time when all I have left to do for the folks is to just hold their hands and smooch their foreheads. 

This whole letting go thing is so strange.  Dad thinks he will walk again and visit his childhood home in Indiana sometime.  Mom thinks if Dad took better care of himself, he'd live forever.  They both think every doctor visit will offer some new solution that will cure them of all their ills and turn back time.  

And I keep thinking all of this will surely get easier.

 

A Simple Advent Wreath! If You're Five or 90, This is For You!

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WHERE WERE YOU?

The morning of September 11, 2001, I was at the gym.  The aerobics class I normally took on Tuesdays was cancelled because the instructor was stuck in Washington D.C.

Her flight had been delayed, for - to us - an unknown reason. 

Fifteen minutes later I arrived home and flipped on the news.  Matt Lauer was interviewing an author, when he interrupted the conversation to announce that a plane had crashed into a World Trade Center building.

That was the beginning. 

Minutes later, I watched in disbelief as a plane flew into a second building.

Then we knew.  Someone was intentionally killing Americians.

news.nationalgeographic.com

It was incomprehensible, just didn't seem real.  I tried to reach my daughter, away at college in Pennsylvania.  My son called from Maryland.  Is this really happening? we kept saying.

When the towers fell, I became nauseous.  This is what evil looks like, I thought.

By the time a fourth plane dove into the ground in Shanksville, I decided it was time to wake up my husband, who was working nights at the time.  I hated to do it.  He had served the Air Force for twenty years.  He would be heart-sick.

I got him up, and together, we stared at the TV for the rest of the day.   How could such a thing happen?  We kept shaking our heads, unable to imagine the level of hatred that devises such a plan. 

news.nationalgeographic.com

Through all the horror and grief, Americans united to support one another and stand resolute that this tragedy would not break us.

Today, I am praying for those who died on that day.  I'm praying for their families.  I'm remembering the days immediately following 9/11/2001, when the best of us emerged.  We turned to God and each other for comfort and healing.

And yet, years later...we are again bickering about politics, economics and social issues.  It seems we have forgotten how easily we can be humbled when the worldly things in which we place our trust are destroyed. 

The aerobics instructor returned safely to Florida to tell her story of how, after the first two planes struck, passengers in the airport were told to run from the terminal.  With hundreds of others, she ran for her life to an empty field and waited for instruction. 

There are many lessons from 9/11.  

blog.heritage.org

A frightening one is that evil exists.  

The good news is that, in the end...God wins.  

The Back Pack is Full Again

I searched for one of my older posts this morning, because I needed to refresh my memory about life's burdens and why it's important to give God our worries.  You can read that post here, if you'd like:  Dropping the Back Pack

My head is so full this week with things to pray about.  I'm not complaining; I turn to God easily when I need Him.  But, honestly...it's the waiting that wears me down.  Waiting to see how He's going to resolve things.  Waiting for things to change, something to change.   I know He is sovereign; I know He's in control, and my worry/anxiety doesn't change a thing.  I know this.  But (the big but), because I am a short-sighted, restless human, I want myself and everyone I love to be happy and peace-filled right away.  Women are like that.

I'm going to attempt to lay my back pack of concerns at the Master's throne through this post.  Getting things out of my head is always therapeutic for me.  You, kind readers, are the beneficiaries of this brain dump.

1.  I'm having skin issues.  Moles that are "suspect" and spots called granuloma annulare that are benign, but ugly.  I've had two biopsies in the past month.

My skin is broken and sore around one of my wounds because it's suddenly reacting to Band-aid adhesive.  I want to stay home and wear nothing until everything heals.  Not gonna happen.

2.  Due to one unreliable co-worker, a young family member is having serious work issues.  Enough to make him walk away from an endeavor he put his heart and soul into.  It's not fair.  What are you doing, God?

3.  Due to a dishonest coworker, a second young family member is having work issues.  Enough to make him look for work elsewhere when he's built a solid resume where he is.  It's frustrating to see the trouble-makers gain traction.

4.  My dad continues to decline.  He got good reports from his cardiologist and neurologist yesterday, but at 90, he struggles to stay involved.  He sleeps a lot.  Some of the sparkle in his eyes is diminishing.  This makes me sad sadder.  

5.  I can't keep up with my house.  Something is always dirty, dusty, sticky, crummy, smelly, or missing.  I want a smaller house with no stairs.  However, until the housing market improves, we're going to be here.  I have a foreboding feeling of falling down the stairs and breaking a hip.

If that ever happens, you'll read it here first.

6.  I've gained weight the past year and cannot get it off.  My doctor tells says "well, as we age..."and I just want to scream, because I know it's true.  We get fat and mole-y and spotty and achy and dump our complaints on our blogs.  We sleep a lot and the sparkle begins to diminish.  I just thought I'd have 40 more years before I got there.   

7.  I think I'm still allergic to mango skin.  (If you didn't know this, you can read how I discovered that here: What You Need to Know about Mangoes.)  After our daughter and I picked several mangoes from a friend's tree, I got a rash on my thumb that only cortisone could curb.  Another skin problem.  I want  a new epidermis. 

8.  The daughter of a dear friend is struggling with a relationship she's in.  She's conflicted and just wants peace of mind.   Why is that so hard for us to attain?

9.  I need to buckle down and finish my WIP (work in progress, for non-bloggers), a Christmas project for families.

 My days are so interrupted, I hate to even open the file and start.  So I don't do anything.  I know this is a lousy, non-productive approach.  I know the book will never get finished if I don't finish it.  I'm just venting my frustration with myself.

10.  My solution in trying to lay down my worries is to bake.  Obviously, this does not help with number 6.

Every pocket of my back pack is full.  And I'm not even going back to school next week.  

I know there are people with worse burdens, with life-threatening issues, and I'm grateful for many things in my life.  I just needed to get these words out of my head.  They were clogging up the joint.

Thanks for reading.  Sometimes it helps to just be "heard."

Accidental Blessings

An event happened a week ago yesterday that is just now beginning to recede a bit in my mind. 

Our daughter was in a car accident in Virginia.  We live in Florida.  We were sixteen hours away from her.

My husband got the tearful call about 8:30 in the morning.  Our daughter was OK enough to call her dad and then text a close-by relative.  Upon rounding a highway curve, she found traffic stopped and hit the car in front of her.  She swerved to minimize the punch, but then spun around across the road and hit the guard rail on the other side.

I did not see a picture of the her car until the next day, and maybe it was better I didn't, because I know I would have been more scared and tearful than I already was. 

The totaled Nissan

I didn't talk to our daughter for a few hours after the accident, because she had to deal with the police, and then the ER.  My sister-in-law and her husband rushed to the crash site and filled in for us, hugging her and helping her and insisting she take the drugs the ER doc gave her.   She had no broken bones, just bruises and a seat belt mark on her neck.  When I look at the car pictures, I am still amazed and so grateful she did not have more injuries.

Front View

By the grace of God, I keep thinking.  Our daughter credits the Nissan Versa for saving her life.  She also credits her guardian angel, whom she calls Patient Steve.   

I finally talked to our girl, who assured me she was fine, just sore, but so "proud" of her car.  She was thankful there was no other traffic on the road.  So grateful she did not hurt anyone (the woman in the car she did hit was fine, and her car did not have nearly the damage the Nissan sustained.)

Our daughter was grateful there was a policeman just a few cars behind her.  She was so grateful her accident occurred in VA near family and not in Canada, or Pennsylvania, from where she had just traveled.  She was grateful she has insurance, grateful for the Vicodin that helped her through the next three days, grateful for her wonderful aunt and uncle who hovered over her with love and concern.

We are grateful for all of that too.

When my brother (the ex-clown who lives in Maryland) heard of the accident, he called to offer to drive to Virginia to get our girl.  I assured him she was with family, but we did need to get her home somehow.  He offered to bring her to South Carolina - we would each drive halfway.  I was so touched by this offer, tears welled in my eyes.  He happened to be on vacation last week and assured me he didn't mind the trip.  This was pure gift.

Forty-eight hours later, we got to hug our daughter at a Baymont Inn and see that she truly was in once piece.

I had that "you're never leaving my sight again" feeling, but luckily for her, it didn't last too long.  I know my children are just on loan to me for awhile...they ultimately belong to God, and He's in charge.

But, man, did I squeeze her.

Since we've been home, the blessings in this trauma have continued to pile up.  She found another car - a Nissan Versa - within three days.  She did not want another brand.  "The Versa saved my life," she reminded us more than once.   Her car insurance actually went down a bit, because this Versa is a few years newer than the old one.   Her car payment is similar, and it fits in the carport of new (for her) house.

Yesterday, she was checked out by and released from the follow-up doctor, and she's ready to move on.  School starts in a few weeks, and already she's tutoring a student in Chemistry.

What a difference a week makes.  A day.  An hour.  Life can change in a minute.  When my mind drifts to what could have been...my heart snaps back to what is.  There are no words to express the gratitude I have for my Virginia sister-in-law and her husband, for my brother, for safe travel to S.C., for no lasting injuries, for GEICO, for Nissan, for good doctors and kind policemen, for every positive detail of this incident.

When bad things happen, some people wonder why God didn't prevent the tragedy, why He "allowed" it.  I'm grateful I know God is good all the time, regardless of circumstances.  Heartache and suffering are part of this life, because people are fallible and insecure and sometimes very foolish.  It's the human condition.  God does promise He will never leave us, and if we trust Him, He will bring good from everything.  Everything.  He also promises that suffering is not the end of the story.

Our daughter said it best when she posted this on facebook a few days ago.

He who was seated on the throne said, “I am making everything new.” Then he said, 
"Write this down, for these words are 
trustworthy and true."         Rev. 21:5










                                                         New Versa

Throwing Stones

I've been thinking about Paula Deen a lot this week.  Her face has been plastered on the news every hour or so.
                                           
I watched her tearful interview on the Today show, and my heart went out to her.  She's clearly upset by and ashamed of the behavior that got her in this current mess.  She's terribly hurt by the condemnation she's received from so many of her sponsors.  She has apologized over and over for her language twenty-seven years ago. 

Apparently, an employee filed a law suit, claiming the working atmosphere in Deen's empire is discriminatory.  Over the course of the trial, Deen admitted she has used racial slurs in the past - almost thirty years ago.  Immediately, the Food Network dropped her.  Not two days later, Sears and Home Depot dropped her - they won't be selling her cookware anymore.  She's losing her Las Vegas restaurants.  And there's probably more to come. 

I don't know every detail of the suit filed against her, but this punishment upon punishment seems extreme.   Yes, she needs to correct her work environment, clean up whatever unjust shenanigans are going on.  I don't deny people have been hurt.  Deen is a senior citizen who was raised in the south, and, over the years, some attitudes might have needed adjusting. 

But, the woman is facing it.  She acknowledges that years ago she used some hateful words.  Not anymore.  Not for decades.  One can't build her brand to the level Deen has by systematically treating people badly.  The demonization of the woman seems unnecessarily brutal.

I imagine we all have said things we later regretted.  I certainly have.  The human heart is often ignorant and insensitive.  It can be fearful and defensive and prideful.  This is the condition we all share with Paula Deen.  Every one of us.

I pray we remember this as we watch the Deen saga play out.   Because she is a high profile figure, her sins are glaring and repeatedly highlighted.  She is paying for her mistakes in a very public, painful way.  I would never want that focus on my imperfect heart. 

I pray forgiveness for Deen emerges soon.  Nobody benefits from being incessantly dragged through the mud; certainly not the drag-ee, but not the dragg-er either.  God alone is qualified to judge the deeds of man.  And all of us will stand before Him someday.

ECCLESIASTES

Ecclesiastes is a book of the bible I read years ago when I was trying to sort out some things in my life.  The author (yet unknown) was trying to do the same.  It is the tale of man's search for the meaning of life.

The writer observes that man's endeavors, no matter how successful, do not exempt him from suffering.  Or death.  Nothing born of a man's hand is eternal.  Life is fleeting and does not guarantee happiness.   All is in vain.

On the face of it, Ecclesiastes is a tale of discouragement.  What's the point of living?  The author supposes often throughout the chapter we might as well just eat, drink, and be merry.

Oddly, I like this tale. For in my view, life is not the point, but the journey.  We are pilgrims working our way through a process of becoming who God created us to be.  That takes time and effort and pruning and failing and starting over, and it's difficult and painful.

But it's not the end result.  It's just life on the planet.  It's just the here and now. 

If we give this obstacle course our best effort, we grow and mature and begin to see the larger picture: God is calling us into relationship with Him.  He loves us desperately, no matter what.  It seems to take a lot of struggle before we get that.  I think it's because we're stubborn and prideful and think life is about us.  We're off track from Day One. 

But, God is patient.  And when our time on the planet is done, we'll have full understanding.  In the meantime, the author of Ecclesiastes suggests we enjoy the temporary blessings we have (like newborns and chocolate) while working toward the life after this one.  He concludes: "Honor God, and keep His commandments; for this is the whole duty of man."  Everything else will come to an end.

I'm OK with that.  
 

CARETAKING

Since the beginning of time, women have traditionally taken care of their families, but the term 'caretaker' is relatively new.  Because mankind is living longer, helping and supporting our elderly loved ones has become a new focus for many.

I've been helping my folks, 89 and 92, for close to five years now, since a stroke knocked my dad flat for awhile.  He recovered very well, but has since sustained another small stroke in the same area of his brain.  He and my mom live in an assisted living facility a mile from our home.

Dad and Mom on their wedding day in 1950.

I could write a book - and maybe someday I will - about walking along side my parents in the aging process.  We've laughed, and we've cried.  I've been very loved on, and I've had days where I felt completely alone.  I've felt very grown up, and had moments where I was sure I was only five.  

Day to day, hour to hour, things can change.  By small shifts, or massive gapes.  Over the course of this month alone, there will probably be an S curve or two.  It's a rewarding, but heart-tugging adventure.  I'm learning as I go.  

I have learned one thing for sure.  In the flesh, I am often weak and sad.  In the spirit, I am confident my parents are in God's hands.  He alone determines the number of days we have breath.

And He is trustworthy.