A Perfect Christmas?

One of my biggest problems is that I tend to think too much. I think too much about what other's feel, think, expect, want, need, etc. I guess in many ways, I try to take up the slack just in case God is too busy answering important prayers. Kinda funny in a way, but that's just how I'm wired. I have spent most of my life trying to create picture perfect memories for others - during the Christmas season especially. Egg nog, check (even though I cringe at the thought of it), pumpkin pie (usually although I will admit to the occasional forgetting on purpose), check, Christmas cards meticulously signed with a personal note to each along with the Christmas newsletter, check, shopping done and presents wrapped for everybody and their brother that may have crossed my mind at some point during the year, check, the tree trimmed and re-trimmed until it's picture-perfect, check, all the items needed for the Christmas feast bought and ready to go, check. You name it, I made sure it was done. Martha Stewart - but with not nearly the same budget.

It was nine days before Christmas last year when I found myself being wheeled into surgery for an open lung biopsy. It had been a hard year for us. In April, Oliver had lost his job with the company he had been with for almost 20 years. They announced that he had taken and "early retirement" when the truth was, they were cleaning house. We reeled. Fortunately Oliver got a job fairly quickly with a competitor and that's how we ended up in Tennessee. He came down right away in July and I was left behind with our dog, Igloo, to sell the townhouse in a spiraling market. Not ideal circumstances, but we felt hopeful that we were on an upward trend. We love TN and it was getting us that much closer to our family in the panhandle of Florida.

It wasn't easy. For months I made sure the house was staged and looked like a page out of Better Homes and Gardens. Every time we got a call that someone was to look at it, my Martha Stewart genes kicked in and I had the music playing ever so softly, the throws folded just right to look like they had been tossed there haphazardly, the soft smell of whatever candle flavor I felt moved to light, the whole nine yards. Nothing. We had a few people through and the feedback was always that we were one of two they were considering and each time they went wtih the other one. It was discouraging but still we kept on. We had become wise in past years about staying connected by cell phone and not landlines. We'd laugh, we'd cry, we'd believe for a brighter future despite concerns about my health and the myriad of testing that I went through from Sept. through Dec.

Then came Christmas. Wtih every bit of strength that I had, I dragged the Christmas decorations out and had the house looking spectacular for the season. I knew I was going to be in the hospital for up to a week so I had to make sure everything was done. I didn't even have the extra strength to go Christmas shopping, which that in and of itself was hard on my psyche. So it was gift cards for the kids and homemade goodies for when Oliver came home - mostly because we weren't sure if and when he'd be able to come home for us to celebrate Christmas. Igloo got to spend the week I was in the hospital at Aunt Janie's and he was spoiled rotten and got to play with two other dogs. It was great for him.

It was while in ICU, alone, frightened, cold and at my wits end that I thought I had reached my lowest point. I remember crying out to God in the midst of all my pain - emotionally, physically and spiritually - wondering just what, exactly, had I done wrong? Why? It was in that low place that He met me and gave me a picture in my head of one of the men here at FatihPointe that I had met when I came for a visit in October. John is wheelchair bound and his testimony and attitude are something that will be the subject of a whole other blog. It was a turning point for me because He showed me that John was praying for me... a person I only met once, but he set all the cares that he had of his own aside to pray for me. Somehow in that moment I just knew that things would be alright and that by the next Christmas, things would be better. Within 24 hours, while still in ICU, someone came and looked at the townhouse and bought it. I got out of the hospital with the agenda of having to get ready to move within a couple of weeks. I was hurting but I was ecstatic. Brighter days were coming.

We settled in quickly and efficiently into our new home here in TN. We loved the house so much and Igloo adapted as well to the country life as we did. We were blissfully unaware of changes to come. We lived, we loved and we laughed. Then in an instant, Igloo was killed along with our neighbors' dog, Sadie. We were devastated. Somehow the same routes that had brought us such peace before now became overshadowed by tears of "what might have been." Still we plugged on. Just as we were beginning to get life back into our souls, Oliver lost his job - with no explanation. Again our lives were thrown into the realm of uncertainty. Oh Lord, what will we do?

Savings exhausted by having to pay extra for moving on a short schedule and having to hire packers, a $17K loss on the old house and having to get things like appliances and curtains for the new, we were ill-equipped to meet this latest storm head-on. And then came Thanksgiving and no prospects on the horizon for a new job. Even unemployment wasn't kicking in yet and in TN, that isn't much to begin with but when you're desperate, any amount helps. No "extras" for us. We're scrimping by for the necessities but somehow we're still managing to stay afloat with the storms raging all around us.

For the first time in our lives, neither one of us had packages under the tree. No buying for everybody and their brother either. That doesn't mean our Christmas has been awful, just different. We invited some friends over for a little get together to try and spark some Christmas cheer and that worked for a day or two. We had a lovely time and we truly are grateful for the friendships we have made this past year. I have to admit that on more than one occasion I had to wonder if we would have been better off if the house up in Chicagoland had never sold, but then I see that many of our friends who have had to move still have their houses up for sale or have rented them out. I think of the people we have gotten to know here and the close bonds we have forged with them and think, no, I wouldn't trade all of them for anything.

We've had our ups and downs, our tears and smiles, our high points and low, and still we're here. We don't know what tomorrow will bring or where we'll be. We wafflle between fear and knowing that things will be alright. In the end we really do believe that all will be just fine - someday. We just kinda wish someday would get here.

So it was on Christmas Eve that I checked the weather reports one last time before heading off to bed. The wind was blowing and it was pouring out. It was 1 am and the temperature was in the upper 40's. No chance for a white Christmas this year. Oh well, nothing else about Christmas seemed "normal" anyway so why should that be different? But still I had that hope that I have always had before going to bed on Christmas eve for as long as I can remember. As I laid down in bed, I said prayers for those who I know are in much more dire predicaments than we are. There are many families apart this year and many that have had unbelievable tragedies befall them recently. My heart ached for them and I prayed for God's peace to fall upon each of them. And then at the end of the prayer I added something that I have done every Christmas eve for all of my life. "and Lord, if it is Your will, can we please have a white Christmas?"

I admit that I argued with myself in my head. I had checked the weather reports, no chance. I reminded myself that weathermen had been wrong before, on many occasions. But it was with childlike belief that I smiled and drifted off into the most restful, peaceful sleep that I have had in a long time. No tossing, no turning, no waking up several times during the night, just sweet sleep. I was surprised to see the bedroom flooded with daylight when I woke up. I couldn't believe that I had slept all night. I got up and stretched and did what I do every morning - looked out the bedroom window. I honestly couldn't believe what I saw. At first I thought that maybe it was just a heavy case of frost, but as my eyes focused I saw the most beautiful sight - a soft, gentle blanket of white. I yelled "it snowed" and Oliver came in laughing and said that he and the dogs had already been out playing in it. I smiled brighter than I had in months.

Even in the absence of all the trimmings of the season, we managed to have a wonderful Christmas. We were invited to have Christmas dinner at the home of some friends with their family and had a wonderful meal. I got to see an emu for the first time in my life. We came home to entertain our houseguests (our pastor's dogs - Toby and Buckeye) who have been wonderful in helping us get over the loss of Igloo. And we were given the glimmer of hope in the soft blanket of snow. If God was not too busy to hear the prayer of my little ol' heart asking for a white Christmas and delivering it right on time, then surely He hears our prayers for all the rest of our needs. It may not have been a perfect Christmas in the eyes of most, but for us, we learned lessons that have changed our hearts forever. It is with childlike hearts that we believe and it's with Godlike answers that He delivers. Christmas doesn't get any better than that.

She still believes....

A single tear streams down her cheeks from the corner of her eye. A tear of sadness or a tear of happiness? Hard to tell, but a tear none-the-less. She stares into the fire raging in the fireplace and just takes in the crackling sounds and the snapping of the flames. As she looks around the room, she sees the tree brightly decorated with beautiful packaging underneath. She even knows that there is a special one or two there for her. Her children are fighting back the closing of their eyes and she knows it won't be long before sleep will overtake their excitement and they'll be carried off to bed. She looks over at ther husband who is fighting to keep his eyes awake as well and she imagines the boy he once was.

As she waits for slumber to finally come for the family she knows she will be up for a while yet. There is still work to be done and a past to reconcile in her mind. It's going to be a long night but one that she must face alone. She thinks back to the days when her biggest concern on Christmas Eve was trying to stay awake long enough to hear the gentle rap of reindeer hooves on the roof and the familiar Ho Ho Ho coming from downstairs. Sleep always won, and mercifully so.

She didn't grow up in the picture perfect settings that were portrayed on the cards of friends who sent their well wishes for the season. No, Christmas brought out an ugly side of the adults in her life. Egg nog with brandy, scotch on the rocks, hi balls, seven and sevens, champagne, Isabel rose wine, martini straight up with a lime twist - stirred, not shaken, Heineken beer... she could name all their drinks. What she couldn't know was what monster would emerge once the libations were consumed and what she would face for the next few days. Laying in her bed and hearing the fighting downstairs would reach something deep inside of her and rock her to her core. "Please Santa, remember that I am not my parents", she'd sigh into her pillow between the sobs she tried to stifle there. Many nights she lay there in fear, wondering if someone was going to come in and use her as a punching bag or worse.

Christmas Eve was always special though. That night she could have hope that Santa would come and certainly rescue her from the pit that she was caught in. She laid there and vowed that she would NEVER do this to her family and bless her heart, she hasn't. Every year she goes out of her way to make the memories special for those around her. It's become a sort of mission in her life. Santa still holds a special place in her heart. She is so very grateful that her children can just see him as a big ol' guy that comes to spread joy and good will. They don't have to go to sleep wondering if he will save them from unspeakable horrors.

Her husband has gotten used to her overstriving over the holidays and just has learned to accept it. He's not aware of the motivations, but he is astutely aware enough to know which battles to fight and trying to get his wife to sleep at a reasonable time on Christmas Eve is a battle he knows he can't win. So they've fallen into the routine of him carrying the children to bed as he kisses her on her cheek and she begins her work in earnest.

The cookies are made and set out with a glass of milk, just like she had done as a child. Sometimes she'll even take one of her husbands boots and put flour on the bottom to make tracks from the fireplace to the cookies, for visual effect. The packages from Santa have to have different paper from those that the family bought. The good presents are still from the family but there's always some special something from Santa, picked out perfectily for the recipient that they didn't even know they wanted or needed. The squeals of delight in the morning always confirm that the right gifts were picked... but that would be hours away.

This particular night, after everything had that picture-perfect look for the children to awake to in the morning, she poured herself a cup of hot cocoa and took a few minutes to just sit and stare at the fire once more before putting it out. After all, no one wants to be accused of burning Santa's rear as he descends down the chimney. A quick glance around confirmed that all was in place, except for one thing. There was still the matter of her past that she had to let go of.

As she sat there alone, in the dark of the night, she had to face the fear that if she'd have fallen asleep too soon, she would have awakened not to hoof beats but to the alcohol breath of an adult. Didn't matter which one, they all had abuses of their own. Sometimes it was physical and sometimes verbal but always it was scary. Those people are long gone in the physical world but somehow they still have a hold on the life that she has now. A life that is so vastly different from the one of her childhood. This was the night to put them all to rest once and for all.

As she sat there reminiscing, she didn't concentrate on just the negatives. There were good times too but somehow they got overshadowed by the trying times. Tonight, yes, tonight there was going to be a turning point. She no longer wanted to be a slave to a past that she didn't have any part of creating but was just a victim of.

Slowly she sipped her hot chocolate and one by one, she remembered all the hurt and pain inflicted on her through the years. She took those memories and as she finished with them, thew them in the fire and then turned to the person emblazened in her mind and forgave them. Some were easy and some took a little more time. But one by one she faced them all between the tears flowing down her face into her lap and the burning in the pit of her stomach. As she came to the end of the list of people, she felt a peace she hadn't known in a long time and she paused when she was overcome by it... somewhere off in the distance, she swore she heard bells and hoof beats and the faint sound of Ho Ho Ho and Merry Christmas to all. She smiled and she knew once and for all that she would be ok. Some say that Santa doesn't exist, but for a mother who has faced battle after battle all her life, she knows better. Oh he may not be the fat man that the cartoons portray that comes down the chimney, but there is a spirit of hope. A spirit that convinces the soul that all will be ok. A flicker of hope that is deep inside the recesses of your being. Yep, she still believes and that belief has treated her well. Without believing as a child, she would have been crushed under the weight of the circumstances.

Today, she has gotten closure and no longer needs to look to Santa as the one that will save her. She has since learned that there is a real Saviour that was born this day to save her and her tormenters from their sin. The same Saviour that has shown her that forgiveness is possible and is not about the other person. She believes with all her heart and there is still the little girl inside of her that remembers the days when Santa was the star of the day and was an anchor in a rough sea of life. So if anyone asks her if she believes in Santa, she smiles and replies, why yes, I still believe....

Merry Christmas and remember to have compassion and understanding for those who believe differently than you do. The real reason of the season is all about love, and that was sent to the earth in the form of a babe who came to rescue a hurt and dying and dark world. How can we do any less?

Merry Christmas!

It's a few days before Christmas. Stores are bustling with people trying one last time to find that perfect gift for Christmas. Lists are being made, scratched off and made again. Preparations are being made for feasts from one end of the globe to another. Church services are being planned hoping to have just the right take on words to finally get through to some of the hardest of hearts. Clothes are being ironed and freshened so everyone can look their best. Beauty salons are trying to work their magic on young and old alike. Cookies are baking, trees are being decorated, children are wound up in anticipatioin, songs are being sung, etc. Ah, the week of Christmas....

Then there is the flip side. For some it's a lonely time, a sad time, a time of remembering Christmas' past when visions of sugarplums danced in heads and a time to cry. 'Tis the season to be jolly - unless of course, you're not. Some will be facing the holiday alone for the very first time. Some will be looking at an empty chair and wishing that there was "one more time". Some will be looking at empty chairs, wondering if their missing loved one is all alone in some far, distant land. Some will just drink the week away, as if to wipe it off the calendar in some sadistic ritual. Some have been alone so long that it just doesn't matter. Some are facing insurmountable obstacles this Christmas season. Some are in financial ruins, some are facing their last Christmas on earth, some are too sick to remember what day it is. There are even some who are lost in the vast recesses of their minds, hardly recognizable to themselves or their loved ones.

And then there are those stuck between the two worlds, with a foot on each side, not sure which one will pull them in as the clock ticks down to Christmas day. They're facing battles of their own and staring down the demons within that are tempting to choke the joy right out of their souls. Yet there is still that little glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, there will be a miracle or two for them this year. Bravo for those who can still let that single tear drip down their cheeks and find that little bit of twinkle left in their eye. That is exactly what Jesus was born for. To give that little glimmer of hope to a lost world.

This has been a hard few years for us. Things are looking a bit bleak this year and I have found that the things that have brought me such happiness in the past, seem insignificant at best this year. It's hard to get into the Christmas swing of things when you just don't have the funds. We go to the store and it takes every bit of willpower I have not to cry as we stick closely to the preplanned grocery list, not daring to look towards the other side of the store. The thrill of finding that one truly unique gift is lost this year because, quite frankly, if we did find it, we couldn't do anything about it anyway, so in many ways, it's just easier not to look. With no job on the horizon and no certainty of what tomorrow will bring, we have to just hunker down and pray for better days - soon.

Healthwise this has been a roller coaster ride of a year for me. Oh, I'm in far better shape than I was last year. After all, last year at this time, I was laying in a hopsital bed with a fresh scar from an open lung biopsy. Alone, scared and not knowing what tomorrow would bring. Oliver in one state, me in another, and no idea of when that would change. It was while in that lowest point that our house finally sold and that glimmer of hope was reignited in our lives. And there was Igloo, sweet, sweet Igloo. Oh how that dog could make me laugh, in the pits of my despair and in the freezing cold of Chicago winters, I could find reason to giggle as he would just do his Igloo antics. We had a future and a hope.

This year, while not catastrophic in the grand scheme of things, is difficult still the same. It's been hard on us to have Oliver lose his job and not be able to get one response from the hundreds of resumes he's sent out and appllications he's put in. I have to admit that sometimes the battle in my mind has become overwhelming. This year was supposed to be better... and after very careful and difficult evaluation, in many ways it is. There are blessings to be found in the midst of our lack of Christmas chaos. We miss Igloo but yet, at least Oliver and I are in the same place at the same time. We have been spending time together (ok, maybe a bit too much time... lol) We have wonderful friends who have truly become our family. We have a great church and home that we love.

And then there is the stillness that I never knew existed this time of year and believe it or not, there has been a gift in it. Because of circumstances, we have had to re-evaluate our traditions and ways of "doing" Christmas. Not by choice, mind you, but merely by circumstance, we have been forced to set aside the trappings of the season and just "be." We don't know what tomorrow will bring, or the day after that. We don't know if we'll still be here in the home that we love so much, or if we'll lose this home or just have to move because Oliver gets a job in yet another place. With the market as unstable as it is, we don't even know if we'll be able to sell if it comes down to it. We don't know if this will be my last Christmas or not. The latest reports from the doctors were not promising and yet, they still aren't quite sure what we're dealing with. It becomes very frustrating. The medications are not working and they make me feel awful and I'm caught between trying to decide to keep on fighting with this course of treatment or just begging off of it all altogether. The struggle marches on daily.

There are days we're up and days we're down. There is no way of knowing how far things will spiral out of control before they take the anticipated upturn. I can't even say I have peace in the midst of this storm. Oh I know it will all be alright, I just can't define what "alright" is. And yet there is still this little flicker in the depths of my heart that remind me that this is the season of miracles. Just as miracles have been happening for so many, many years before us and will continue for many years after our demise, there are still miracles to be found in this day. That is what keeps us going. Knowing, without a doubt, that there is a future and a hope for us. A plan predestined long before we were born. I don't know what form that will take, but I do know on whose birth I can pin that hope... and that is what ultimately this time is all about. The birth of Jesus. Whether you believe or not the rest of the year, within all of us there is that glimmer that starts to flicker at the least little stimulus of airflow. Do you feel God blowing on your heart today? I know I do and it's that hope that will carry me on - no matter what the future holds.

So don't bother to wipe the tear off my cheek. I wear it as a badge of honor because it's proof that hope still springs eternal and that there are brighter days ahead, just as there have been in the past. And in many ways, that makes this the best Christmas ever... no package strings attached. Merry Christmas.

Following in the Pastors Footsteps

Ok, I do understand that we are supposed to receive the Word on Sundays and take it out into our "real" lives outside. I even appreciate a good story to go with the Word to help drive a point home, but I gotta tell you, sometimes you can follow in your Pastors footsteps a little too closely...

Case in point... tonight we invited some friends over for a nice, quiet dinner and their sons were going to go up into the attic and bring down all the Christmas boxes for me so that I have time to sort through them before the time comes to set them up. We had a wonderful spaghetti dinner with salad and animated conversation going. Oliver was supposed to just show them where the stuff was and let them do it. They're two strong, intelligent young men.

So my friend and I cleared the dishes and loaded the dishwasher and Oliver went off to show the boys what needed to be done. As we were sitting back down at the table and started talking to her husband, we heard a bit of a commotion coming from the general direction of where the boys and Oliver were. Lisa called out and asked if everything was alright. We heard two say "fine" and a muffled grunt from the third - then dead silence.

Both of us being mothers with boys, we just knew the dead silence was not a good sign. We got to the garage door and one of the boys was in the garage, one was on the ladder and Oliver was.... well, let's just say he was trying to come down from the attic in a new way - the same way Pastor Rob did a couple of months ago. Through the ceiling. Mercifully his tush didn't let him come all the way through and he caught his shoulders on one of the rafters where it stuck, along with his pride, I'm sure.

Ok, maybe he didn't follow the exact same path that Pastor Rob did, after all Oliver came through the laundry room ceiling and not the kitchen ceiling as Pastor Rob so eloquently did. I appreciate Oliver's enthusiasm to really try and follow in his Pastors footsteps and really practice all that's been preached to him.... um, I just wish he wouldn't do it so literally.

So if any of you know who can patch a ceiling, let us know. We'll be busy cleaning up insulation for the next year or so. That stuff is worse than Easter basket grass. And Pastor Rob, I beg of you, can you please find something a little less dangerous to get into for a while? I'm sure Tricia will stand with me that you should both be banned from the attic.

And yes, Bubba is fine. His shoulder and his ego are a bit bruised but he should make a full recovery on both counts. Everything, and I mean everything, is out of the attic and there is no earthly reason for him to have to venture up that way again. Lord, I pray that Pastor Rob doesn't take up bungee jumping anytime in the near future.

Saints and Sinners

I was cleaning out some stuff yesterday and I came across this tattered old piece of paper that was once part of Ann Landers column. I've had that paper for so long, about 40 years, that I didn't even remember why. It's pretty worn out and will have to go, but before I dispose of it I wanted to share what it was that made me keep it all those many years ago. Enjoy!


Saints and Sinners
by Veda Ponikvar

When some fellow yields to temptation
And breaks a conventional law,
We look for no good in his makeup,
Oh Lord, how we look for the flaw!

No one asks, "Who did the tempting?"
Nor allows for the battles he's fought.
His name becomes food for the jackals,
The saints who have never been caught.

I'm a sinner, O Lord, and I know it.
I am weak, and I blunder and fail,
I am tossed on life's stormy ocean
Like a ship that is caught in a gale.

I am willing to trust in thy mercy,
To keep the commandments thou'st taught.
But deliver me, Lord, from the judgement
Of the saints who have never been caught.

Halloween...

I imagine I'm going to get some rhetoric about this one. Halloween... the mere mention of that one word can divide people in so many ways. There is the one camp that believes it's a day to honor all sorts of evil and their day to shine. There is another camp that believes if you hide and just ignore it, it will go away. There are other camps that believe it's just a fun day and no harm done. There are some that are on the fence and can't decide what they're going to do or what they should do. And then there is the camp that I belong to - the one that refuses to give one more day to the devil than he already has.

I am not going to light a fire under a cauldron or worship dead people or skin animals alive or even give any mind to the sorts of evils that will merge from their dark holes tomorrow and try to recruit. But then again, I don't do that any day. Why should tomorrow be any different?

Like it or not, Halloween is not going to go anywhere anytime soon. We can either roll with it and use it to our advantage to further the Kingdom or we can stick our tails between our legs and hide. I am not a hider. I am not one to cower away from the darkness of this world. I don't go looking for it but I certainly am not going to run from it if it shows up. I know more about it's existence than most people do because I've studied it. Not because I want to be a part of it, but like any war, I want to understand my enemy so that I can come up with the best strategy to fight. And mark my words, we are in a war. We are in a war for souls, young and old.

Ok, here's where I'm really going to hear about it but here goes. I actually like Halloween. I like the fun side of it. I like to see the kids out and about and coming to my door. Some years I even dress up. I've been a myriad of things from Tweety bird, to a tube of toothpaste, to a pumpkin, to a clown, to a puppy dog, to Elvis, you get the picture. Does that make me a sliding saint? Perhaps in the pious opinions of some. I know my heart and God knows my heart and quite frankly, that's all that matters to me. I've been there as there have been connections made with children and adults alike because of a costume I was wearing. I've seen God use it to touch a troubled soul.

I've looked into the eyes of an abused child and shown them kindness and love as they've stood on my porch steps. I've gone to hospitals dressed up and gotten permission to go room to room to brighten somebody's day. Have you ever seen the look on somebody's face when you come into a room dressed as Tweety bird saying "I tawt I saw a puddy tat... did you see my puddy tat?" I've seen the look of confusion turn to a smile and a despondent, depressed person suddenly feel better. Is that the work of satan? I think not.

There are some that argue that it's disrespectful to God to have a sense of humor and a heart of compassion all at the same time. Are the horrendous things that happen to people, especially little children, something to laugh at? Absolutely not. But can God's love shine through and touch someplace inside of them and bring a smile into some of the most desperate situations? - you betcha! I hate to break this to you but Jesus actually had a sense of humor Himself and if we're to be like Jesus, well then by golly I want to embrace that side too. Here's just one example... Remember the story of the blind man that came to Him wanting to see? Jesus picked up some dirt, spit in it and put it on his eyes. Now do you honestly believe that there was some power in the dirt? Was it the spit that did it? No, it only took the word from Jesus to make it so. The rest of it, if you think about it, was really kind of funny.

I am not going to get into Theological debates with anyone on this or any other topic, because I admittedly am not as educated in that area as I would like to be. I'm still learning and will continue to as long as there is breath in me. Tomorrow is Halloween and even though I'm sure I won't have near the people coming to my door as in years past (because we're in the country) I will not hide away and ignore anyone who happens to ring my bell. I will open the door wide, smile and find some kind word to say to them so that Jesus' light can shine through the darkness and hopefully touch a still hidden place in their hearts.

So pardon me if I feel like looking like a pumpkin, or Elvis, or whatever, or nothing at all. I will stand straight and I will stand tall and I will stand up to the enemy who is trying to steal our kids and I will say "get thee behind me satan." I refuse to let him have any more power over me or anyone I come in contact with than he already has. Not tomorrow - not any day. Is there a dark side to Halloween - without hesitation I acknowledge that yes, there is. But I know there is light to be brought in and shone in the darkness and I will carry THAT torch tomorrow as much as I do every day.

I like Halloween. The more the enemy tries to come out of hiding, the more Jesus' light can shine on it and cause it to cower. The more the enemy shows his slippery hands, the more information I can garner and prepare for the battle. We all know there are spirits of darkness roaming around our cities and towns. If tomorrow draws them out of hiding - wonderful. We'll know where they are and be able to pray accordingly. Don't fool yourselves. They're all around us and amongst us. I ask you to stand with me - stand tall and do not hide away tomorrow or any day. Put on your armor (now there's a costume for ya) and be ready to withstand the onslaught. It's gonna happen... are you going to look away and pretend it's not coming? Are you going to hide in your homes with the lights off and let the enemy get a hold of one more child? I don't intend to.

Lord, use me to touch somebody, somehow tomorrow and every day that I am alive. May Your light shine through and even if only one person is touched and given that glimmer of hope that they too are loved by You, then I will take all the verbal and critical abuse of the saints that come my way. You know my heart so let's get this party started.

If I've offended you, I'm sorry. If I've riled you up - fantastic! The more riled up against the enemy we get the more ground we can gain for the Kingdom. I do not celebrate, nor have I ever celebrated, the dark side of Halloween, but I have embraced the "light" side and I've seen God move and I'm not about to stop witnessing it now. Oh yeah, Happy Halloween! ; )

Learning to Receive

I was born with a servants heart. I am a giver by nature. I truly would think nothing of giving someone my very last cent, believing that they need it more than I do. God has always come through for me... not that it's always been easy. But the hardest thing for me to learn has been how to receive. Not that people haven't been there for me and not that God hasn't used people in my life in a number of ways through the years. It's just when it comes to receiving, I'm not very good at it.

I am always taken aback when someone says or does something nice - for me. I'm the kind usually looking over my shoulder to see who they're talking to if they pay me a compliment. I'm still learning how to just say "thank-you" without that complete look of wonderment on my face and sometimes I just can't even pull that off. God's been working on that with me especially in current times. Have you ever had one of those times when He brings something from your past up into your present situation and uses it to illustrate how stubborn and prideful you really can be? That's happened to me very recently. Let me share....

As most of you know, we're in a bit of a pickle. We moved to Tennessee last January and moved into our dream house. It's a lovely ranch that was newly built and truly seemed to have been built just for us. Our things fit in here perfectly and we didn't have to do one thing except move in (and sign a bunch of papers, of course.) Then at the end of July our perfect dream world began to show cracks. Our beloved dog, Igloo, was hit and killed by a car along with our neighbors dog, Sadie. I cried and cried. Somehow the excitement of living our dream just didn't quite seem the same, except that the people from our lives really stepped up to console and comfort us.

We had people from our church willing to make us meals, which at the time I thought really odd - it wasn't like Igloo was our main cook - and while I appreciated the offers, I declined them. We were fine, just a bit broken-hearted. I poured my heart out in my blogs on Facebook and Myspace and had friends from all over touching my heart with their kind words. It was a bit ironic how one year ago, when I needed people, all I had was my dog. And now when I lost my dog, I had all kinds of people there for me. The difference wasn't in the people, the difference was in me.

That difference was that I was able and willing to share what was going on in my life. Before I was always thinking that I didn't want to burden others and have the yucky things going on in my life touch theirs. If they had giving hearts, well, I figured there were always people more needy of their attentions and efforts than me. It was just easier for me to deal with it than have to deal with it AND worry about what others were thinking.

Recently Oliver lost his job. I put that out there as well. It came as a shock and we really don't know what the future holds for us. We're taking things one day at a time. There is the "old" part of me that wants to put up walls and retreat into my own little world until the storm passes and withdraw from people and life in general. Then there is the "newer" me that can put it all out there in a blog. It's a daily, sometimes hourly, struggle to keep those walls from going back up.

A week ago I got a call from an old friend from high school. We had been in the same youth group at church, seemingly back in the day when the Bible was still on stone tablets. We're talking almost 35 years since we last spoke. It really touched my heart that he and his wife called to offer encouragement and prayers. Funny thing is that when I first went to request them as friends on Facebook, I wasn't sure they would even remember who I was. Seems silly in hindsight but that's honestly what I felt. It was my own fault that we fell out of touch. My mom had died the day I graduated from high school in January, 1974, and most of my friends weren't graduating until June or some until the following year.

All of a sudden my world had changed. I was a young 17 year old all on my own, with my own apartment and the very grown-up responsibilities of life and handling my mothers estate. My friends were still in high school, worrying about what to wear on Saturday night and where to go after the prom. How could I touch them with the realities of my world?

As I talked with my friend a week ago, I was not only surprised that they remembered me, but that they remembered so many of the details from 35 years ago. I was surprised to learn that they always thought that I was "cool" because I had my own apartment. They were surprised to hear that I didn't abandon them because I thought I was "cool" but that I didn't want to burden their worlds. God showed me that although they couldn't have change one single circumstance of what I was going through, they could have been for me then as they are now - offering encouragement and prayers. Huh. Never even thought of that.

Today we were invited to a dear friends house for dinner after church and as per usual, I asked what I should bring... "nothing" was the reply and for the first time ever, it was ok with me. See? I am learning. Funny thing is that for all my life whenever I have invited someone over, I have never expected them to bring anything and yet because of the "way I had been brought up" I couldn't begin to think of going somewhere empty-handed. God has been showing me the double-standard by which I had been living.

At church, another lady came up and dropped something in my purse "to bless us with" and I graciously said thank-you - admittedly caught off guard and a bit puzzled. Yet God reminded me of how many times I had slipped little somethings in peoples pockets or purses through the years or had a special treat for someone on their porch. Sad to say, but I'm just now, at 53 years old, learning that without people to receive, then giving wouldn't be so special and that by refusing the gift, nice comment, a meal, whatever "it" may be... that you are actually refusing to let the giver receive their blessing from God.

Those that have been there for us - now and in the past - are going to be receiving blessings from God that I couldn't even begin to repay. It's all His to give anyway. He has used me in the past to be the giver and now He's showing me that there is no room for false humility in refusing to receive. It's been a humbling experience to say the least. I'm still learning how to not act so completely surprised that people think about us enough - because God has put us on their hearts - to even care about us. That's going to take a little more time.

We know He has a plan for us and we know that He will supply our every need, no matter what season of life we are in. We know that as sure as we breathe. And we thank-Him that He is teaching us how to receive in our hearts the love He has for us when He uses people to bless us in so many ways. We will not be down forever... When we are back on our feet, we will be continuing to give - that's how we were created to be - but next time it will be with a new understanding of the person on the receiving end.

May the blessings of God continue to pass from hand to hand, around from person to person, on this awesome planet we call earth. Oh yeah, and thanks God for allowing me to continue to learn something "new" everyday, even if it's something you've been trying to teach me my whole life.

Now excuse me while I go sweep up the dust from some of the bricks that have been falling from my walls. Thank-you and God Bless you...

Times have changed....
We all know that times are changing. There's no doubt about it. Today was a reminder to me at just how much things in my life have changed through the years. Oh, it has nothing to do with the economic conditions, the president in the White House or even some theological rantings from a political puppet. Nope, it hits closer to home for me....

Today, while I was doing the mundane, but relaxing, duty of watering my plants outside, I heard gunshots fairly close by and didn't even flinch. Not one eyelash fluttered. I just went on about my business. We do live out in the country after all and we can hear guns go off for any number of reasons, but mostly during hunting seasons. Don't think we're in an active one right now, but you never know around here. Gunshot sounds are commonplace.

A few minutes later, a small plane flew overhead and quite frankly made me jump and I dropped the hose. A small plane. I had to chuckle. I grew up a mere few blocks from O'Hare International Airport where we would hear on a consistent basis all kinds of planes and jets. I may not have known what a bush hawg was when I moved to Tennessee (I do now) but I could tell you whether it was a Boeing 727 or 747 taking off and on which runway, which type of fighter jet was on maneuvers or whether it was a Piper or Cessna coming in for a landing, back in the day. Most kids would count sheep to try to go to sleep... we could count planes and they were really there.

I've only been down here less than 8 months. A lot has changed for me. Just 8 months ago, it would have been the gunshots that would have stricken fear in my heart and sent me running for cover. Certainly not the sound of some little plane flying overhead. We don't get many plane in these parts. I think this is only the 2nd, maybe 3rd, time I've even heard one since I've been here. A far cry from the constant sound near O'Hare and Midway airports. As a matter of fact, we don't even hear the constant drone of traffic. Oh occassionally, like maybe once a week or so if the wind is blowing just right, we might actually hear one of the trucks go by on the road about a mile down.

Nope, the drone sound we hear these days are the tree frogs and when the weather was cooler in the spring, the sound of mockingbirds and their mating calls. We hear birds on the loose and every once in a while, I'll hear the two little boys playing outside with their dad at the next house over, but that's only if I'm out in the yard.

We live in a town where the police chief was turned down for the funding to get a part time officer because our crime rate is too low. Quite the change from the town we lived in where a retired police sergeant is in jail for killing his third wife and suspected of killing his fourth. I even had to chuckle last week when the youth leaders at church were freaking out because one of the boys brought in a ring snake, a tiny little thing, in a box to show everyone. It actually was kinda cute so you can imagine how unintimidating it had to be for this Chicago girl to be in the same room with it. I think I have bracelets bigger than he was. Far cry from the youth groups up there where we had to be concerned with guns and knives being brought in.

Yep, things are changing.... and not one bit of it is due to any stimulus packages or political rhetoric coming out of Washington. It's been by the grace of God that we are where we are and we couldn't be happier with these changes. Life is slower, people are more laid back (ok, that takes some getting used to) and priorities in lives are family, friends and loved ones. We love this land and the people in it. A long way, baby, from the streets of the Bronx where Oliver spent his hey day and the streets of suburban Chicago that once held my dreams and aspirations. Quiet, tranquility, peace that has no words. Yep, times have changed... Thank-You Jesus!

Yellow Butterflies

Most of you know that I lost my precious puppy, Igloo, just one month ago. It has been heartbreaking to say the least. But in the midst of the pain there have been bright moments. The day after he died, I was devastated and just going through the motions of life. I managed to water my plants outside and really not a whole lot more. I could not bear the thought of the plants dying too. While I was out there doing that chore, the cutest little yellow butterfly flitted by and made me smile through my tear streaked eyes. Following close behind, came a second, much smaller yellow butterfly. As I watched the two play in flight, I was reminded of how Igloo and Sadie used to play just like that. It was almost eerie but in their play, I did find some comfort.

For weeks now whenever I seem to get a bit overwhelmed and am really missing Igloo, I can look out the window and sure enough there would be the butterfly. Sometimes the smaller one is there, but most times it's just the bigger one. Occasionally he'll land on the screen and it seems like he's smiling at me. Oh I know what you're thinking... it's the meds... or grab the straight jacket. Trust me I thought that too, at first, but it has happened all too often. One day last week a friend stopped by and we were outside talking and the yellow butterfly came up on him, just like Igloo would have, to check him out. I didn't say anything, but I certainly noticed.

Yesterday I was mowing the jungle and it was hard. I had to mow right by the little area we have set up where Igloo and Sadie are buried. I admit, the tears started burning my eyes and then out of nowhere, the butterfly appeared and stayed around me the whole time I was out there, bobbing and weaving around me like he wanted to play. At one point I looked across the field between our house and our neighbors, the same field that we would see Sadie come bounding across and sure enough, here came the second little butterfly. Even I had to laugh.

It was just like old times only they were in the air and not in the line of fire of the lawnmower. There was a time when the heat, the tears and the emotions got to be a bit too much and I had to stop the mower in the middle of the yard. By this time it was just the one butterfly again and he came and sat on the steering wheel right in front of me. We just sat there staring at each other and I can't explain it but I felt this sense of calm. This sense that it was alright... not perfect, but alright.

I can go out on the porch and "talk" to Igloo and sure enough that butterfly will come out of nowhere. I think it has a mission, a mission to help me through. And I gotta say that it's doing its mission quite well. I still cry and my heart still hurts, but each day I move forward and each day I find a reason to smile and laugh. I know it sounds weird but just as Igloo helped me through before, I'm finding a little yellow butterfly and his friend helping me now.

As I look back through some of the deaths of people that I have had in my life, I have found that there have always been butterflies that have appeared in times of need. My sister-in-law last year, my best friend a couple of years ago, my aunt, my mother - although those didn't show up until spring but I didn't cry for her until then, so many more.... Not all have been yellow, some have been purple and even a bright lapis blue that was gorgeous. Coincidental? To my rational mind, yes. But somewhere in the depths of my spirit, I feel they are more than that. I am inspired by their freedom, entranced by their beauty and compelled to watch them and find a smile from somewhere deep inside me that I didn't think I would ever find again.

They say that God shows Himself in some simple ways... I believe He shows me that things are ok through butterflies. And I thank-Him for it. I miss my puppy terribly and it is still so very hard but I can see the beauty in life again and I owe that to the butterflies. One day I'll leave this life and I'll soar like an eagle into parts unknown and I pray that God will send butterflies to those who will miss me the most to remind them that I'm soaring and free. No more pain, no more meds, no more fears, no more tears, the struggles of this earth left behind. I'm a fighter and I have too many things yet to accomplish here but when my call comes, forgive me if I leave you for awhile and take my flight. Trust that God will help you through 'til we meet again on the other side of glory. In the meantime, you'll find me outside talking to a couple of yellow butterflies like a looney old woman. And that suits me just fine for now.

McDonalds and a Braille Menu

It started out innocently enough. It was a nice, warm day in Chicagoland. The kind of day where people are out walking their dogs and milling about. The kind of day that just doesn't happen often enough in that part of the country. I had been at the church helping out with a conference and the pastors wife asked if I could take their kids to McDonalds and home until she was finished. No problem. Something I had done many times before. I love those kids and for reasons not clear to anyone else, they love me.

So I went and got them and we began our journey across town to McDonalds to get them their feast for the night. As we were driving along, we began people watching and were starting to have fun making up personalities and converstations to go with the people we were passing. It put us in a giggly frame of mind for sure. At one point we passed a blind man walking down the sidewalk with his red-tipped cane. We all drew quiet for a moment until we all remembered a sermon that a comedian had given at the church a couple of weeks prior. One of his "jokes" involved McDonalds and being able to ask for a Braille menu at the drive-thru. Hmmmm.

Ok, so I admit it, the kid in me came out and we decided to check out the sermons facts and see if it is true that you can ask for a Braille menu at the drive-thru. Since it was still a bit sunny out, I had my dark sunglasses on. They're really dark because the light hurts my eyes when I'm driving. We all figured that we'd just get a quick laugh and maybe an amusing look on the face of the worker and that would be it. None of us were ready for what transpired.

As it became our turn to pull up, I started lurching the car towards the window, um, perhaps a bit erratically for dramatic flair. Ryan, the oldest, was "directing" me from the back seat as to when to go and when to stop. Eric, the youngest, was by his side in the back playing his part to the hilt - like he was scared out of his wits. Renee, the middle child, was bravely up front with me. We finally got to the window (it was a slow night, no other customers behind us) and looking straight ahead, I asked THE question... "May I 'see' the Braille menu, please?" Without a second thought, the worker said "Sure, hold on a moment and we'll get it for you." "Thank-you"

She whispered to another worker who went off to find one, I assume. In the meantime, the kids were really starting to play this whole blind lady driving the kids around thing up. Renee blurted out something about a really pretty red car that passed by on the street when suddenly she "remembered" that I couldn't see it and began to tell me in great detail about the car. "Oh, Mrs. Peg, you'd love it if you could see it." Just like any other everday kind of conversation that you'd have while waiting. I gotta admit these kids were good. It was hard for me to keep a straight face but hey, we'd come this far, no backing down now.

The worker was listening to our conversations about things I couldn't see and by now had figured out that I was the one needing the Braille menu... or so she thought. Finally they produced said menu and I gotta tell you these workers had gotten some awesome ADA training. They were wonderful. Anyway, I get the menu and of course, I'm running my fingers over the little bumps and wondering in my head how awesome this tool really is. Eric pipes up from the back seat "Mrs. Peg, is the Happy Meal on there?" I get to one point on the Braille menu and tell him that yes indeed, it's on there. We handed back the menu and placed our order and thought that that was the end of it... Oh no... it gets better.

As I go to pay for it, I had Renee dig the money out of my purse and I just stuck my hand out the window, of course just a tad bit out of the reach of the worker. She didn't say a word. The kids all started directing me on which way to move my hands so that the worker could take the money. This took a while because I just kept missing her hand "by that much". Getting the change back wasn't any easier but mercifully neither of us dropped a dime. Then, Ryan in an animated, swinging his arms like he's directing traffic kind of way, "helped" me get to the next window. Lurch by winding lurch. I looked in the rearview mirror and saw two workers heads poking out - watching us make our way, painstakingly, to the next window.... not a smile on their faces. That's when the lightbulb clicked on in my brain... they weren't seeing this as a joke. Hmmm.

When we got to the next window, the assistant manager was there handing us our food and drinks. I played the same "missed it by that much" game with her until finally all the bags were passed over. I just kept handing them off to the kids because we weren't going to eat anything until we got back to their house anyway. Well, like most McDonalds drive-thrus, there was a turn at the end. With Ryan directing the way, we lurched out of there as we came in and finally, slowly, lurchingly, made the turn. As we were lurching along, I saw in the rearview mirror no less than six heads poking out of both windows watching us.

I managed to keep a straight face, as did the kids, until we made that turn and got out of their line of sight. Then I had to pull over because we all busted up laughing. I was laughing so hard, I thought for sure I was going to pee in my pants. I finally managed to compose myself after a few minutes and we drove home. Of course, we discussed it all the way there and it had been mentioned that we were surprised that none of them called the police, concerned that there was a blind woman driving with three kids in the car.

Once we got home and started rationing out the food, we quickly realized that we got way more food than we had ordered... like over $7 more in food. There were extra fries, nuggets and even flurries. The kids were thrilled. I felt guilty. Being that I didn't want to hustle them back into the car and make the trek back to McDonalds, I figured I'd just go in the next day and pay for the items that we got erroneously, and just enjoy the rest of the night with the kids. I gotta tell you, they were very good actors. Not that I was really surprised but they held the characters through the whole ordeal without so much as even smirking, which helped me do the same. We had a great night. It was a night I will always hold dear in my heart. Not that we didn't have a whole lot of other times that we had a ton of fun, but this one was super special.

The next day I went to McDonalds to speak with the manager and to pay for the extra food. I had a list of all the things we got "extra." I started to explain the situation to her and at first she thought I was complaining about the way that they handled me being blind. Um, I wasn't wearing my sunglasses at the time or even acting blind, but in hindsight, I could see where she got that idea - sort of. Anyway, I told her the whole story and assured her that her employees handled the situation with the utmost respect for the disability, that I really didn't have by the way. She wouldn't take my money. Once it sunk in that the whole thing was a joke based on a sermon, she finally saw the light and started laughing. She said that it made her day and was worth the $7 and something. Guess she had been having a few rough days of complaints in a row and that's why she thought at first that she was dealing with yet another one. I kept trying to pay but she just wouldn't take it. I did feel good that it made her day and that she was starting this new day out smiling and not frustrated from complaints. Go God!

So then I went on to work at the conference that was continuing at the church. Turns out that the conference speaker, Dr. Henry Malone, was staying at the pastors house and of course, heard the whole story from the kids before they went to bed. As we were gathered around the table for a leaders luncheon that he invited me to, he brought up the subject and had me share what had transpired. Reluctantly I did, but most people got a good chuckle out of it. Henry sure did, even more so than when the kids had told him I guess.

Someone in the group made the comment that I was teaching the pastors kids how to lie. Ouch! Never thought of it that way. Certainly wasn't my heart. I made sure that later on I did explain to the kids that I wasn't condoning lying under any circumstances, etc. Even apologized to the pastor, who incidently, did not take it that way. He knew my heart would never be to teach those kids, or any kids, anything of the sort. It was just a memory-making good time. A time that the kids and I will still bring up now and then and smile, even though two of them are out of school and the youngest is in high school... a drama student by the way and a very good one at that. No surprise on my part. The other two are using their God-given talents in serving the Kingdom as well.

I sit here and I smile when I think back on that memory. A simple "joke" in a sermon, carried out in real day life. A memory-maker for sure. I have a storehouse of memories of similar experiences of laughter and fun with many other people locked away in the recesses of my mind and each day I want to add to their numbers. Every day I wake up and I ask God, how are WE going to laugh today? What everyday thing are you going to let me see in a way that will bring a smile to my face and little happy flutter to my heart? And He does not disappoint. Try it. Ask Him to do the same for you and He will. Look for those memory-makers and take advantage of them.

Ryan, Renee and Eric, you all know that I love you with all of my heart. I look at the wonderful young adults that you have grown up to be and my heart fills with pride and happiness that I got to know you and have quality time with you through the years. Keep on laughing, keep on working for God's Kingdom advancement, and know that Mrs. Peg will be here for you always. I miss you but I know that one day we'll meet again and we'll sit down to eat and laugh at a memory that I, for one, will hold dear forever.

Go out and laugh today. Let God bring a smile to your face and if at all possible, bring one out on someone else's. It's rewarding, it's fun, it's memory-making, and it's a wonderful feeling. It's Kingdom-advancing. Um, just don't torture the local McDonalds... they really do have Braille menus at the drive-thru, trust me... let God show you a memory-maker of your own. Have a blessed day!

The Winds of Change

Ah, the winds of change. They whirl and twirl all around us every day. Some days we notice, some days we don't. Some days we see them coming and other days they sneak up on us unexpectedly. But they're always blowing.

Today was hard and exciting, all in the same breath. We sent out into the world a lovely young couple with two darling children to go to China for a year where they will be teaching and ministering. We also sent four of our youth, including the pastors oldest daughter, to Oklahoma City for a yearlong internship. Others will be going to college. Still more will be leaving soon in service to our country. Some have had to say last good-byes to people they have held dear and others never had a chance to say good-bye and yet will see their loved one no more.

Sometimes it's just moving on and moving forward, sometimes it's leaving people behind. Sometimes it's both. It can be exciting and it can be scary. It can be peaceful and it can be overwhelming. Change. No matter how hard or tight you try to hold on to something, it will change. You will change, they will change, circumstances will change or all of the above.

We only have what is right now. We need to embrace it and love the moment but be willing and able to let go when the time comes. It's part of this thing we call the circle of life. As a parent it's hard to let your child go into uncharted territory and yet we find in doing so that we look at our own parents through a slightly different lens than when we made that trek in our own lives. There's an old saying - "let go and let God." Ah, much easier said than done.

But when it comes down to it, it's all a matter of either we trust Him - or we don't. It's as simple and as complicated as that. Change is going to come. If it hasn't hit you today, it will soon. Good change, bad change, it doesn't matter what shape or form the change takes... what matters is trusting the One who is the author and finisher of our faith and our life changes. I'm an emotional person. I am not a big fan of change... I've seen a lot of it in my life, but the one thing that does not change for me is my trust in Him. Tho the winds of change blow around me, still I will praise Him and trust Him.

Are the winds of change blowing around you? Grab the anchor that will get you through any storm that these winds of change might kick up at you. It's ok to visit the emotions, the pain - the excitement, the sorrow, the joy and everything in between - it's even healthy to do so, just don't stay there. Let Him bring you through. Be still and know, really know, that He is God and you will come through - stronger and hopefully wiser.

I wish them all well. My heart hurts a bit more because I will miss them, as I do so many others that have touched my life, but I trust that God will take care of them and there's always Facebook to keep them close. Blessings to my friends who are leaving and moving on to new and exciting possibilities and ((hugs)) to those you left behind. We're all in these winds of change together - in good times and in bad. Thank God.

"So, what do you want for dinner?" "I dunno..." uh oh, here we go again... I guess SOME things never change... lol. Have a good one. Love ya!

I just don't understand

Why is "normal and happy" such an unattainable place for me? All my life that's all I've ever wanted and every time I get some little bit of happiness, something happens to take the joy right out of it. It's been a pattern that I have not been able to break since the day I was born.

Of course, you all know that most recently the pain is from losing my dear, sweet Igloo. He was my everything. He was by my side, or more appropriately in my face, pretty much on a constant basis. The only times he wasn't when was he was sleeping, eating, or in Olivers face. The three of us did everything together. We'd go for rides in the car just to check out this beautiful area that we've moved to, with Igloo barking hello to everyone he saw. We'd play in the yard and of course, in every area of the house. Everywhere are memories of good times with Igloo. He was a lifesource for us, a bright shining beacon of hope in a sometimes scary world.

Every day we thanked God for our blessings and for the first time in my life, I can honestly say that I wasn't looking for "the other shoe to drop." I basked in the glow of a full heart and complete and utter happiness despite the physical challenges that I face. I had hope. In an instant, in a twisted act of fate, a true accident, all of that changed. And with that change, I not only am feeling the pain of losing him, but also wondering why it is that I can never have more than a fleeting moment of true happiness. Even the big moments in my life have been tainted by angst and pain.

My first field trip in school. I was so looking forward to going to the dairy farm up in Northern Illinois. We had talked about it for weeks and the anticipation was almost too much to bear for me. I was so excited. Instead I spent that day in the hospital getting my tonsils out. Of course, not only that day but quite a few more because my throat wasn't healing like it should and I kept spitting up blood. So much for the first field trip. Graduating from high school. Should have been a happy day and one filled with excitement and anticipation of a bright future. Mine was shadowed by the death of my mother that very afternoon and filled with funerals and estates and bills. I had prayed so hard that she live 'til my graduation day. It meant so much to her that I was graduating. She did. God answered that prayer to a "t". Then I've spent the next 35 years beating myself up because I didn't ask for more time with her, for a longer life for her, for complete healing, etc.

Getting married. My father, rest his soul, couldn't be bothered to even come, let alone give me away. Can't tell you the roller coaster ride that relationship was in my life up until the day he died. Fortunately we were able to hash most of it out in those months before his death, so that helped. It really wasn't personal. It had more to do with the bitter divorce between him and my mother. Still it hurt me.

The birth of my son. I get the flu a few days before going into labor and I'm deathly ill when the labor starts. We get to the hospital, in the middle of a snowstorm no less, where I spend the next couple of days in labor, watching mothers come in, give birth and go home with their babies. All the while, I'm in labor. Finally they take me in for a c-section and still I can't be happy. There were complications with the surgery and my body went haywire, so I spent the next month in the hospital, clinging to life by a thread. I didn't even get to hold my son until he was a month old. Kinda sucked the joy out of that moment.

That same son, who is now 29, isn't talking to me and I'm not even sure why. That seems to add to the pain. He knows how much Igloo meant to me, and his dad, and not even a phone call or an email. We know he knows, Kim has emailed me. But that is another pain that weighs heavy on my heart. I pray for him and pray that God shows him that we are his parents who love him and have sacrificed for him all our lives. I continue to do so today. I'm going through all the stuff at Vanderbilt that I am, not for my life - but for his and for Eli's. My mom was my age when she died, under similar symptoms and if there is some way to find out why and stop it, then I'm pursuing it so that Dan and Eli can stay ahead of it. Him not caring really hurts too.

I have not one, but two brothers that have ridden off into the sunset of their lives and I have no idea where either of them are. My oldest brother has been missing for almost 40 years and to this day I do not know whether he is alive or dead. My younger brother chose to walk away and not look back. Neither had an offense towards me personally, but that doesn't mean their choices haven't effected me or caused me pain.

I've lost many friends that have died under sometimes long illness circumstances and sometimes in the blink of an eye, unexpectedly. I know all too well how our days are so precious and that none of us are promised tomorrow. I've seen it firsthand way too many times in my life. That's part of why I try to live each day to the fullest, enjoying each small, quiet, "normal" moment that I can. I try to never take anything for granted.

Some of the other stories, I've mentioned in other blogs. My life has been peppered with major life experiences out-shadowing the moments in my life that should be "normal and happy." I just can't seem to get a break. And yet each day I wake up thinking that surely this time things will work out because in the end of all the stories, good outweighs evil. Right?

Igloo was my prince in white fur. For a short time I actually got to experience the unconditional love and pure joy that he brought to my life. And I will be forever grateful for those times. I don't need to wonder if he knew he was loved - he did. We showered him every day with our love and affection. That's part of what makes this so hard. There will be no more opportunities to do that. I look around the house and all I see are glimpses in my mind of what was and what will be no more. I go outside and see the same. I go for a drive, and the streets that made me smile and feel so at peace less than one week ago, tug at my heart and cause me to cry. We know he loved us - more than anything, except maybe Sadie. Still it hurts and the tears keep flowing.

I am grateful for the friends who have understood and I really do understand the thoughts of those who don't. My life is not lacking for love at all. It's not that. It's an old turmoil that unfortunately has been churned up too often in my life. Is it a curse? Shouldn't be, I've gone through every thing I can to break any curses that might have been placed. Am I running from it and bottling it up so that I don't have to deal with it? Hardly. I'm feeling it with every fiber of my being and trying so hard to see what it is in the lesson that I'm missing.

Oh I've been through this enough to know not to say I will never smile again or find a reason to laugh. I know I will - it's part of who I am. I laugh hard when I'm happy and cry hard when I'm sad. I feel. Some say I'm oversensitive and they're probably right. But I would rather be that than not feel at all. As long as I'm feeling, be it pain or joy, I know I'm still alive. I know that there is still love in my heart and that despite my best efforts to wall it off, someway, somehow, someone or something will sneak behind the walls and capture it. They always do. But I have to admit that few get to that place easily.

Every day I see people treating each other badly and I want to go up and shake them sometimes and tell them not to do it. To tell them that it's moments like this that will replay in their minds over and over again when there are no more moments with that person in their lives. I want to ask them "if this were the last day of your life, is this how you would like to be remembered? And if this were the last day in the other person's life, is this the moment you want to remember?"

I know I am not unique in experiencing the things that I have. Not by a longshot. And I know that there are people who have experienced things far more horrific than I ever will, or at least I hope not to. I know the pain I'm in now and the tears that I'm shedding are not going to last forever. I know that one day these memories that cause me to cry so hard now will bring a smile of peace and remembrance to my heart. I know that somewhere amidst this dark cloud, the sun still shines and life will go on.

I just want to ride out the rest of my life "normal and happy" but I just can't seem to. I thought I was going to. I know there's some reaon to all of this that I just don't understand... I KNOW all that in my head, but I just don't understand why I can't get my heart to.

Streams of Tears

I'm crying and my heart is in pain. Part of it is because of losing our beloved Igloo and the love of his life, Sadie, under such tragic and unexpected circumstances. But it's more than that. Once more it's the experience of a shattered dream. We have been through so much the last few years, especially. It has been very, very hard. We've experienced death, job loss, relocation, separation (due to the job - not by choice), surgeries, medical emergencies, waiting on pins and needles for word that would speak life or death, pain, loneliness, heartbreak, the whole gamut of stressful emotions. And the one who helped us keep our focus on life was Igloo.Never in our wildest dreams did we imagine a little white ball of fur would burrow so deep into our hearts and our lives. But he did - big time. He made us laugh all the time. He brought us such joy and was a constant form of happiness in our sometimes bleak world. That's why it is so hard now. Igloo would be the one to help me through this. Not that Oliver isn't, but he has to work and that leaves long periods of aloneness here at home. Everywhere I turn, I expect to see my Pigs. He was my confidante, my playmate, the one who watched over me like a mother hen, the one who gave me unconditional love and could nudge me out of the deepest pit of despair. But his nose is not here to do that and it hurts.We had dreams and felt like finally things were turning around for us. We have been blessed to get a beautiful home in a gorgeous setting, surrounded by people who are awesome that we have come to love very quickly. We wanted to spend the rest of our lives drinking homemade lemonade on our porch, with Igloo playing in the yard - chasing after all the things that catch puppies attentions. It is a safe place. We are on a dirt road, off a barely paved road, off a not too traveled road. Never in our wildest imaginations did we expect this to happen. None of us did or we would have done things differently. Oliver and I still have lifelong dreams that we want to see fulfilled. Oliver desperately wants a truck and it's almost a necessity down here. We've even gone looking, making sure there would be room for Igloo. We've looked at boats down at the marina and dreamt of one day having one, with Igloo of course at the front with the wind blowing through his fur and his tail wagging to beat the band. We wanted to see him play more with our grandson - to watch them both so full of hope and life. We both know we'll one day be fine. We've walked this route before - too many times. It's just one more shattered dream. Funny thing is that there is a book we've both read before called "Shattered Dreams" by Larry Crabb. Just a few days ago, before Igloo died, I dug it out to reread it. It's sitting here on the table in my office. The first one to read it was Oliver and in the middle of the book, he got a call that his best friend from childhood had passed away. He wanted to throw the book to the farthest county dump that he could find. The book dredges up feelings so that you can deal with them so he was already in a vulnerable position when the call came. Then it was my turn to read the book. It was an assignment for classes we were taking at the time. It was while reading the book that my grandson was born. That in itself was great news, although I was hoping to be there like we had planned. It turns out Eli just didn't want to wait. But then the call came. The phone, the object that brought me such joy hours before, became the thing I wanted to throw as far as I could. "Mom, there's something wrong with the baby." So began a journey of lifeflights and surgery at a few days old and PICU. I couldn't go because I was so sick at the time, so we sent Oliver down to be there for the kids. The day after Eli was born, I dropped Oliver off at the airport and went to my doctor's appointment. They didn't let me go home and admitted me to the hospital. In the meantime, Kim (our daughter-in-law) was still in the hospital because of complications in Crestview, Eli was lifeflighted to Gainesville, Florida to the specialists that deal with Congenital Diaphragmatic Hernias, Dan was torn between staying with his wife or driving the five hours away to be with his son. We were scared but the good news is that now Eli is doing great. Despite a rough start. At the time though, the emotions and feelings and what ifs were very hard to bear. But for whatever reason, God impressed upon my heart to dig that book out again this week. It's been four and half years since either of us has touched it, except to pack it for the move. So here it sits, staring me in the face as a reminder of the fragility of life and how we should never take any moment in time for granted. I can't bring myself to pick it up and read it again - yet. Partly because I'd want to fling it and you know my luck with windows and partly because I wouldn't be able to see the print through the stream of tears. Our lives have been peppered with shattered dreams. Sometimes we wonder how people can even make plans. It always amazes us when we overhear people making plans for vacations and stuff a year or more in advance. We have never had that luxury. Every time we have made plans, the winds of change have roared in to change them all around. That's not saying we haven't had happy times, we have. We have had a lot of heartache through the years, but we have also had a lot of laughter and fun. It may not have been the script we would have written but we have always made the best of it. So for me, it's not just losing a dog. It's about yet one more shattered dream. Igloo was my very heartbeat. When we got him, it was so that he could be my ears as I was losing my hearing, a job he has done quite well. It was so that he could be my companion as Oliver worked long hours or was called out of town for months at a time. It was so that I had a reason to get out of bed in the morning and a motivation to exercise - after all he had to play. It was so that I could take the love I have in my heart and direct towards a living being and have someone to spoil. He was all of that and so much more. And now he's gone. It's quiet here, almost unbearably. And in that stillness, it's like I'm reliving every death, every pain, every abandonment, every hurt, every offense, every sense of loss, every dream that's been smashed, all the suffering, once more. I'm tired, I've had enough. I have seen way too much death in my life and way too many things go wrong. That's why I'm hurting. Shattered dreams. We all have them. I know that somewhere there will be a blessing in all this but right now I just can't see it. All I feel is the pain. The sense of "no more". No more walks in the woods, no more running my hands through that soft, beautiful fur, no more looking into his eyes with nothing but love reflecting back, no more telling him to stop barking at the fly on the window, or to stop chewing his butt (don't ask), no more licks on the face or sniffing of the ears, no more watching him wait patiently for whatever it is that dad was making him, no more watching him lay there as we eat dinner anxiously hoping we'd drop some scrap for him to clean up, no more playing the chase game that he and I played all the time, no more watching him head down the dirt road with dad to go check out the back forty, no more dreams and visions of things to do with him in the future. No more. At least there's still Oliver and I. My health is not good. I'm battling this lung disease with all that I can but we're just not seeing progress and that leaves the prognosis very questionable. So that's one more shattered dream for me. I know that when the time comes, it will be hard on Oliver. In all my dreams, I expected Igloo to help him through, just like he has helped me every time I'm in pain. Igloo is good at it. And he won't be here. After Oliver's scare, we still worry about his health. He works too hard and he works too much. He's not a young man anymore and certainly not the Energizer bunny. He did not look good after coming in from digging Igloo and Sadie's grave with Jason. And it wasn't just grief. So we worry about each other. Igloo was the one that kept us focused on life. He was so young with so much more to give. It hurt us when we had to put our old dog, Bart, down. But we knew we were making the right decision for him. He was in pain and there was no more joy left in life for him. But with Igloo we had no say.Just guilt. The what ifs weighing heavy on our hearts. What if I hadn't run over his tie out last week and shredded it to pieces? What if I had gotten to the store to buy a new one? Then he would have been on it, especially since it rained and was muddy. Most certainly I would have done that. What if I had taken him out on his leash, like we always did when it rained? What if I wasn't in pain that day and thinking I wouldn't be able to hold him if I did? What if I had just waited ten more minutes for Oliver to come home and do it? And each what if brings more tears, pain and guilt. I know it was an accident. I know it wasn't some mean plan of God's to get me for something. But it still hurts and leaves this awful feeling like I've been punched in the gut. I finally ate dinner last night but today can't eat a thing. I sit here and listen to the quiet, which I know sounds weird, but that's what my world is turning into anyway. My hearing has gotten worse. The ear specialist would like to do surgery to see if he can help, but he's just not sure it will and I'm not sure I want to go through it. I'm getting used to not hearing very well and if the lung disease is going to kill me, what's the point? So forgive me if it takes me a little longer to get over this one. I am feeling very defeated. Just a week ago, we were thanking God once more for the blessings He has bestowed upon us recently. It may not seem like a big deal to others, but Him moving us here and blessing us so in that move, meant everything to us. And Igloo was a big part of that blessing. We still love our beautiful house, we love our new town and the surrounding area, we love our church and most of all we love the people that have welcomed us with open arms and love us back. We know we are still blessed. There is just this empty space now that Igloo had filled and it turns out to be a bigger chunk than either of us probably realized. We thank-God that we had the time with Igloo that we did, every single moment. We just wish there had been many, many more moments. Our hearts are heavy and for me, the streams of tears just will not stop. Thank-you for your prayers. Thank-you for your support. And thank-you for understanding if I tear up at the drop of a hat. I'm vulnerable and that's not an easy place for me to be. I know there are people in justifiably much more pain than I am right now and my heart and my prayers go out to them. The circle of life seems to be watered by the stream of tears. It's all part of the plan, I just don't understand it.

Ultimate Puppy Love

Tonight my heart weighs very heavy in my chest. The tears will not cease to flow and yet I know that I was blessed to witness the ultimate in puppy love. This afternoon, our beloved dog Igloo and the love of his life, our neighbors dog Sadie, were fatally wounded by either a truck or a car. They will both be greatly missed but the lesson they taught so many in the art of love will be remembered for a long time. Through the tears, I will try to share their story.

It started a few weeks before Christmas back in 2007. We had a new pet store open in town and there was a sale on fish. Oliver and I went into the store to look at the fish as a Christmas present for my sister. Smart marketing people that this particular pet store owners were, they had it arranged so that you had to walk through the puppy area to get to the fish area. It was there that our eyes first met. Usually I was able to just look at the puppies, see that they were cute and continue on my way. And for the most part, I was successful that night too. That is until we got to the cage that held the cutest little white fur ball that my eyes have ever seen. I took one look and as our eyes locked, this little guy winked at me. Oliver knew at that moment that we were going to be getting a dog. I was not so sure. I still was grieving over our dog Bart that we had to put down a couple of years earlier.

We did not get him that night. Instead, we left and went across the street to the new mall and watched the Christmas light production that they put to music. It was a perfect Christmastime night. The air was cold and there was a beautiful fluffy snow falling from the sky. People were milling around the mall and there was excitement in the air. We enjoyed it and just felt like our family was going to expand despite our best efforts to talk ourselves out of it. That night we picked out his name and the next day after church, we bit the bullet and went back and got him.

Since then Igloo has been my constant companion. Through all the times that Oliver was on the road, it was Igloo that kept me company. When Oliver got the job down here, it was Igloo that helped me hold it all together while I battled such uncertainty. It was 6 months before our house up in Bolingbrook sold and the beginning of a health nightmare for me. Through it all, it was Igloo that helped me to put one foot in front of the other and keep going. He gave me a reason to get up in the morning and face the day. After all, the boy needed to do his business and it was just he and I.

Finally we moved to Tennessee and believed that our dream had come true. The plan was that we would ride out the rest of our lives rocking on our porch, watching Igloo play in the yard. At least we got to see that dream come true, for a while. He loved to play and there were plenty of playmates for him here. There was the butterfly that would float by his nose, the mockingbirds that would swoop down and he'd chase back to the trees, the grasshoppers that kept him busy and most recently the lightening bugs that he couldn't quite figure out. And then there was Sadie.

Shortly after we moved in, Sadie and her family moved into the house down the road. At first they did the whole sniffing butts thing but soon decided that the other was a-okay. Each day they'd play and romp and just have a jolly good time. Somewhere along the line, Sadie stole Igloos heart as well. She even trumped a biscuit and for Igloo, that was a big thing. They became inseperable. Sadie even became accustomed to sleeping on the rug right outside our back door, with Igloo laying just on the inside of the door. They became sneaky cohorts too. Igloo would demand our attention so that Sadie could sneak into the house. Many times it was unnoticed by us until sometime later in the evening when we'd see a pillow on the couch move and upon closer inspection, would find Sadie curled up in a ball in the middle of a dream. Other times we'd be sitting there listening to the familiar crunch of Igloo munching on his dry food, only to hear a smaller crunch right after. Sure enough, Sadie would be hiding in the kitchen chomping on the food that Igloo brought to her, outside of our sight lines.

It really was sweet to watch but invariably we'd have to shoo Sadie back outside so that she could go home. Many nights we'd find that she'd sneak into the garage when we'd come home and we wouldn't find her until the next day. Igloo would never let on but he knew she was there. During many thunderstorms, Sadie would find refuge over here until the storm passed. The neighbors kept her outside in a kennel but my heart could not send her back into the storms to go home. The neighbors always knew where she was, there was never a doubt.

Being home all day, and facing some very difficult days, our little gift from God would bring such immense pleasure to my life. Oh he loved us both but he and I were very close. That is until Sadie came along. My little guy had fallen head over heals for this little dog no bigger than my shoe. Earlier this week I had taken some pictures of Igloo and just last night felt pressed to take pictures of Sadie. My sister fell in love with Sadie when she was here and I was taking the pictures for her. I just transferred them from my camera to the laptop. Two nights ago, the two lovebirds shared a very special dinner. We had gotten steaks through the Angel Food Ministries and Oliver cooked them off. I am not a steak eater, but usually Oliver would eat his and mine, maybe saving a small piece for Igloo. This particular night, Oliver, Star Chef to the dogs, decided to make them a whole steak. Yep, Pops was the best in their eyes. Him standing at the grill would bring these two running from wherever it was that they were playing just in the nick of time and Oliver never let them down. Usually it was just a small bite but this night was the doggy jackpot. We swore the two were smiling as they downed the last of the fine cuisine afforded them that evening. Yesterday their playtime was extremely limited because of the rain. Sadie spent the majority of her time over here because the neighbors worked. I never really minded because she was such a sweet dog.

So today I came home from running errands for a friend of mine. As I was driving, my mind wandered back to Bart, go ol' Bart, the gentle giant. A few years earler, we'd had to put him down. I was devastated then as well. I swore at that time that no other dog would find room in my heart again. I know - stupid move. Flash forward and we had the excitement of a puppy in the family.

Igloo was my little nursemaid. He's the one who made sure I'd taken the meds as I've needed to and wouldn't take no or an excuse for it. He'd coach me on my breathing treatments and Lord help me if I missed one.

When I got so incredibly ill during March, it was Igloo that never left my side. It was Igloo that chewed a hole in the wall out of worry when I had to go to the hospital. But as long as I behaved, he felt free to pursue his young love.Somehow they wandered out on the road about a block away, not quite sure exactly how. Neither had ever wandered that far before. I was on the phone talking to the old owner of the house about some things that still needed to be fixed and during that call, one of our church pastors beeped in to talk to Oliver but he left a message. While on the phone, I saw another neighbor come around the corner and head over this way. Now it's a big property and there could have been any one of many reasons for him to be over here, although it was an odd occurence for sure. I never heard Oliver leave or see the car go around the corner.

After the phone call I went out to tell Oliver about it and he wasn't in the living room. Hmm, where is he? On the way to the bedroom, I noticed the garage door open. As I opened the inside door to go see what he was doing outside, I saw him pull his car up behind mine and then back it into his spot. As I glanced at him, I could see he was in tears. I immediately went outside and yelled "don't tell me my dog is dead." With tears flowing down this big mans face and a broken voice, he told me "both dogs are." What? Sadie too? Oh my, the neighbors, and they have two little children. How will they handle it? Mercifully the kids are with the grandparents until the weekend, so that will give Jay and Amy time to process it all. I was howling and sobbing and totally uncontrollable. Oliver felt helpless and in pain himself.

Oliver had brought the dogs home in the trunk and I had to see them right away. Both of their bodies were still so warm and yet so lifeless. I tried to pray them to come back to life like Jesus had done with Lazarus. I prayed for the clock to be turned back just a few hours so that I could make a better choice about letting him out. I prayed for a miracle.

Oliver and Jay agreed to bury the dogs together and so in the highest humidity day we've had this year, with it raining off and on, Jay and Oliver proceeded to bury them in our back yard corner. They wouldn't have wanted it any other way.Amy and I realized early on that it was best that if they had to die, that it was together doing the thing they loved most, keeping each other company. It would have been far worse if only one had died, no matter which one it would have been.

Tomorrow the sun will rise, Oliver will go to work, and I'll have to fight to get out of bed. For tonight, it's tears and sobbing that have consumed my life. I have to be careful not to let it consume my life too much or my butt will be right back in Vanderbilt. So far I'm still breathing lightly, but ok. I'm consumed with the "what ifs" and feeling so very responsible for this happening. 'If only'... you know how it goes. I'm in extreme pain emotionally and now because of that, physically, but there is a peace knowing that those two walked off into eternity, paw in paw, with lightness in their steps, smiles on their faces and love sparks in their hearts. Together, at the same moment in time, in the same fateful spot, they met their ultimate destiny in puppy love.

Although my heart is heavy because of the loss of not only one, but two great friends, there is the occassional smile that crosses my face, knowing that I couldn't have written it any better if I'd have known how it all would end. I'm sure my tears will continue to flow for quite a while, I'm a very sensitive person to begin with, but I guess if it was their time to go, going together was the way it had to be - at least for them. Earlier today I thought of ol' Bart and actually cried at his memory. I do believe in hindsight it was God's way of telling me that everything will work out - somehow - and I choose to trust that. Thank-You Lord for the love that you allowed me to share with Igloo since he was a small pup and to witness the love he shared with Sadie as a lovesick teenager. And tonight a newborm baby is on his way into this family as our niece wades through her labor pains. The circle of life and God's perfect will. Where can you find better rest for your soul than that? Rest in peace, Igloo and Sadie, the love you shared was contagious and you brought people together because of it. You will be greatly missed but I wouldn't trade one moment of the love we all shared for anything else in this world. I love you Igloo and yes, I love you too Sadie. May your love continue in eternity. Happy Trails.

Igloo

Igloo

Sadie

Gray Areas

Today was an interesting day. Oliver had to drive to another prison to pick up some dehydrated potatos and since our house is the halfway point between the two, he stopped in for a quick bathroom break. I thought it would be nice to take the trip out there with him since he had to come right back by home on his way back to work. It really is a beautiful ride and it was a beautiful day. We made the trip out there and as we were heading down the small road leading to the prison, I noticed a big bus gaining ground on us in the rearview mirror. Turns out it was a Tennessee Department of Corrections bus filled with prisoners. We arrived at the gate with the bus hot on our tails. Oliver told the guard why we were there and the guard said he had to process the bus first and we had to move over to another parking lot to wait while that was being done for security reasons. Protocol. How long can it take to empty a bus? That was the million dollar question today.

So there we were in the heat just watching the events unfold as to how much goes into checking inmates into a prison. It is not an easy task. As we watched, we were both able to get lost in our own thoughts. Oliver is used to the "prison life" having worked in that environment for years. It still gives me the willies. But I was a captive audience and I'm a pretty quick learner. I learned that the different colored clothes that they wear actually mean something and have to do with the seriousness of their crime. At first I wanted to just sit there and shake my head and wonder what stupid choices they had made that landed them there. Wrong thought. God got a hold of that one real quick and as I looked at these seemingly normal men, I have to admit that it was increasingly hard to tell who were the bad guys and who were the good guys. Some of the officers looked rougher than some of the inmates.

There probably are some of them that chose to be there. Perhaps they were men down on their luck, with no bed, food or clothes and the prospect of prison sounded better than their chances out on the street. Perhaps they did something foolish to get caught so that they could have a clean bed and warm food. Some of them looked like this was the first clean, white, t-shirt that they have ever worn in their lives. Are they bad people, as we're led to believe, or men who made bad choices, or men whose life circumstances have come to dictate where they are. Are they really much different than me? When I was younger, things were much clearer. Life was in black in white. Right or wrong. Good guys and bad guys. No one questioned which group the Lone Ranger fell in. These days the lines are not so clear. A few weeks ago, one of the correction officers was arrested for smuggling contraband into one of the jails. He was supposed to be a good guy. That same day an inmate saved the life of another by responding to an emergency in an appropriate way. Not so black and white anymore.

Today I sat there and as I watched from outside the "yard" that had several layers of barbed wire that was razor sharp and two tall fences to boot, I had to really look at the men on the other side. Oh some were being tough guys, no doubt, but the majority were just sitting there waiting, much like I was sitting there waiting on the potatos. Just passing time in a life that none of us really belong to. A butterfly came and perched on my arm just long enough to let me see the beautiful colors that it was adorned with before fluttering to the other side of the fence. She didn't need to go over there, she just did because she could. Those razor sharp barbed wire fences did nothing to stop her from her destined flight. She fluttered around, darting from one side of the fence to another. I had to chuckle as I recalled the verse that says, Joh 8:36 - So if the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed. That butterfly can come and go as it pleases because of the freedom she has been given from above.

At first I felt that the prisoners probably deserved to be there but as the time waiting went by, I started to think a little bit differently. What if they were victims of their circumstances and knew no way out? What if they just made an instantaneous poor choice and got caught. I know my actions haven't always been squeaky clean and very easily could have landed me there as well. Not that I did anything intentionally but merely inadvertantly. What if they were innocent victims themselves? It does happen.

As I looked through the fences and watched them go about their business in the yard, I really began to see that we had more in common than we really had seperately. They may be locked behind walls of man's making that consist of brick and mortar, fences of steel and armed guards, but am I not locked up in a body that fails me, with issues standing sentinel to keep me in tow and people standing at the ready to show me my place and keep me there? Is my prison much different that the one that my eyes saw today? It made me think that we all are in prisons of some sort and without the grace of God, we could be stuck there for the rest of our lives. I got to drive away from the physical prison building after collecting the potatos and head home, but the prison that I live in just rode along in the car with me. The bindings that hold me down are no less strong than the shackles that bound the prisoners, just more socially acceptable.

Tonight I'll pray for the inmates and hope that God reaches them through the quiet of the night and gets a hold on their hearts. Once that happens, it doesn't matter what side of the prison door you are on, the enemy has no jurisdiction in your life anymore. And while I'm at it, I'll pray for those of us who are stuck in a prison of our own, unable to break the hold it has over our lives. I want to live as the butterfly. Free to come and go as I please with nothing but God's awesomeness reflected in my wings