Why Adamsville?

It's a simple question really. One of my nephews wants to know how we ended up in Adamsville, TN. As I thought about that question, I realized that it wasn't so easy to answer. Of course, my first reaction was to just tell him "by car" but that would be too easy. Then I could tell him that Uncle Oliver's job brought us down here and that would be only part of the truth. I'm sure he's probably wondering why I haven't answered him yet and I do hope he's not taking it personally that I haven't. It's just that God has this amazing way of taking a simple question, or word, or situation, and embarking you on a journey to learn something - about Him and about yourself.

As I sit here I am filled with all kinds of different feelings. First being that I love it here in Adamsville and I love my friends so very much. We have been blessed to get plugged into a church family that I really thought could only exist in my dreams. They're a diverse bunch and that keeps it interesting. Plus we were able to find our dream house and move into it last year. We prayed for this house and God answered our prayers by providing it for us.

Then there is the uncertainty. After Oliver lost the job last September that brought us down here, we have been living in that murky area of wondering what's next. Will we have to move? That was the first question.... now it's more like will he ever find a job? He's sent out hundreds of resumes, hit the streets, done everything he can and should do, without one single interview. He's good at what he does, and despite being an old dog (although not quite old enough for social security) he's still quite capable of learning new tricks. Our savings having been depleted and no job on the horizon, it's scary at best. We literally have to go to bed at night grateful that today the electric is paid so we can watch tv and have heat, the water bill is paid so we can shower and for this month we have a roof over our heads. Our cars are paid for so there's no payment there to worry about. We have to see the good things or we'd be overwhelmed by the uncertainty of it all.

Oh this isn't the worst situation we've ever been in but it's stressing still the same. A few short years ago, we weren't sure he was even going to be alive as we went through the years of dealing with his cancer - which, by the way, he is free of. Last year the doctors weren't giving me much hope of living to see this day, until I got new doctors at Vanderbilt who not only gave me hope but have very much helped keep me alive and now are thinking I may have been misdiagnosed altogether. So we do realize that things can, and have been, much worse.

Two years ago when Oliver lost the job that he'd had for almost 20 years we were thrown for a loop. We prayed, we cried, we fought, and he found one actually quite quickly. We only went two weeks without a paycheck that time. The only caveat was that we'd have to move to Tennessee. We actually were thrilled. We had wanted out of the Chicago area for a long time. It just wasn't home anymore. We excitedly accepted the terms and Oliver left within a few days to come down here. I was stuck up there a while longer trying to sell the house and filled my time browsing online for a new one down here.

Those were hard days. The neighborhood we were living in was becoming more and more inundated with gangs and it was becoming scary, especially being up there alone. What was supposed to be a simple surgery for carpal tunnel sent me on this wild ride of medical testing and an open lung biopsy all because of a blip on a pre-surgical EKG. While my lungs were the issue in the physical sense, I have to ashamedly admit that it was my heart that was hardening in the spiritual and emotional sense. I felt all alone and scared and mad at the world. I really couldn't blame people for not coming around. I was miserable and was now living within the walls that I had only built up myself.

For years I refused to allow people into that inner circle where I kept my heart safe and sound. Oh, I'd be friendly enough and say the right words, but my actions didn't match up to them. There were a few people who broke through my barriers, but very few indeed. And those that did really, really irked me sometimes. Seems like the only ones that I would let in were the ones that I could have love/hate relationships with. God and I had some major discussions over some of them, yet I loved them just the same. Then life (and death) got in the way and somehow I lost them as well until I was literally all alone, laying in a hospital bed with nobody in sight. Just me and a God that I wasn't sure gave a rip anymore. Go ahead, shake your head... Lord knows I do as I look back on that moment but there I was none-the-less, thinking I had pushed everybody out of my life for good and that I didn't deserve anybody in it.

I literally was ready to just give up on life altogether. We hadn't had anybody look at our house in a couple of months, it was bitterly cold outside, Oliver couldn't even be home for my surgery. Life was bleak at best. I cried. Not a sobbing a cry but a cry out of frustration and just plain having had enough. Call the men in the white jackets if you must but I believe in that moment God came down and sat with me to have a chat. He basically told me that I could continue to harbor all the resentment and anger and live in a past that had not been pleasant within the walls that I had put up myself or I could let it all go right then and there and be ready to walk into a future full of hope and promise. The choice was mine.

It was a Kairos moment for me... a moment of an undetermined period of time in which something special happens. I argued with God that nobody really cared. I had alienated everyone. He so graciously gave me a picture in my mind of a man that I had only met once while vistiing down here in Tennessee two months earlier. A man in a wheelchair, named John. He told me that John was praying for me and that he cared. I became broken and it was in that moment of being broken that I made the decision to have a change of heart. Funny thing happened... within the next 24 hours, while I was still in ICU, someone came and looked at our townhouse and bought it. I was released from the hospital two days before Christmas and was leaving Chicago behind three weeks later. Everything literally changed on a dime.

Back to Adamsville. I, like my nephew, vaguely knew that I had heard about Adamsville but I Googled it as well. When I read that it was the home of Buford Pusser, I was flooded with the memory of watching the original movie "Walking Tall" - with Joe Don Baker. I remember a distinct part in the movie when they were walking down the road from the church to the cemetery and I remembered thinking at the time that Adamsville looked like the kind of town that I would love to live in. There was just something about it that I saw in a movie as a teen that touched something in me. Flash forward 40 years and here I am, literally driving by that cemetery every time we leave the house. A house incidentally that I found online and wanted before I ever even laid eyes on it in person. I just knew. Oliver knew once I convinced him to find it (mostly to stop me from nagging) and saw it with his own eyes. He was here every weekend walking the property and praying that somehow it would be ours.

So here I am, a little over a year later from moving into our dream house in Adamsville, TN and thinking about how we ended up in Adamsville, a place that I am proud to call home. A one stoplight, small country type of town. We still have phone booths on the corners - with working phones. The stores and restaurants prefer checks rather than credit cards. There is literally a barber shop on the corner and not one, but two beauty salons across the street. The kind of town where you can leave something outside and it will still be there when you come back for it. A place where you wave and smile at people you don't know and can strike up a conversation like you've known them your whole life. A town to call home.

In this year I have worked hard to let my heart be open to new people, new experiences and quite frankly a whole new way of life. Never have I been more content or feel more at home. Sure the people are different than others in my life, after all they ride bush hawgs and eat purple hulled peas and fried, well, everything. I can honestly say that I have not met one person here who has "gotten under my skin." Oh there are a few that I may just avoid, but for the most part each one has found a place in my heart and I'd do anything for them and know that if I needed something, I could call and honestly know that they'd be there for me. They're people that I'm so happy to be "doing life" with.

They allow me to be me. I laugh easily and these days sometimes I cry too easily but never, ever do I feel like I can't or shouldn't be feeling what I'm feeling. I don't feel judged and that brings with it a freedom that I've never known before. I never understood unconditional love and now I'm livng it every day. And John? Well he's become one of my very best friends, along with his wife Lisa. My pastor is not only my pastor but someone that I love with all my heart, as well as his family. They are my friends. We have neighbors that drop by just to say hi and we feel like we've been neighbors forever. We feel like pieces of a big puzzle and without all the pieces, the picture just wouldn't be the same - for any of us.

The area is beautiful as well. Filled with trees and wildlife of all kinds. A sky that seems to go on forever. A river that has a power and presence all it's own. I literally feel God's hand all around me. We don't know what tomorrow will bring. I tear up when I entertain the thought that maybe, just maybe, this isn't where I will spend the rest of my life, but I know that I wouldn't trade one moment or one experience or one person for anything in the world. We're not sure if and/or when our time here in Adamsville is ending, but we do know that God knows and we're trusting that He has our best interests at heart. He's brought us this far and the lessons I've learned in the past year about Him and myself have all been worth it.

So, Dean, to answer your question, "how did you end up in Adamsville, TN?" - I guess it would suffice to say that "God only knows."

Hard to Believe...

It's hard to believe that it was 36 years ago today that my life turned on a dime. It was a cold January day as I kissed my mom goodbye and told her I'd see her later. I was off for graduation rehearsal at the high school and filled with wonder, anticipation and excitement. I was so excited that I turned back one more time towards her before heading out the door and said "I love you Mom" and she returned the sentiment in kind. Our class was so large that we had to divide graduation up into two parts and those of us with enough credits were given the privilege of graduating in January. Once at the school, we learned where we were to stand in line, how to move our tassels from one side to the other as we crossed the stage, how to accept the diploma with one hand and shake the principal's hand with the other and if we had been really lucky through high school, this would be the first time we'd be close enough to his face to see the freckles on his nose. Those who had found themselves in trouble through the years knew those freckles all too well. I had always thought that the freckles had been part of the rumor, but no, they really were there.


It was an ordinary day in the life of a typical suburban teenager... or so I thought. After graduation practice, a couple of us wandered over for a quick lunch and then I went to get my paycheck from Goldblatt's department store before heading home. I remember the sun shining brightly and glistening off the snow as I sang along to the radio, free from the classroom prison and looking forward to "adult" life. I had a strange feeling as I pulled into the driveway of the only home I had known my whole life. The house my dad had built on Scott St. in the city of Des Plaines, which is a suburb of Chicago and literally a stone's throw away from O'Hare airport. The air seemed still and quiet and that was a rarity in that close of proximity to the airport. I shook off the feeling and went bounding into the house like I had done on so many occasions before.
As soon as I opened the door, I just knew something was wrong. I saw my mom sleeping on the couch which wasn't that strange of a sight at all. She had been sick for quite a few years and was known to just stay on the couch for days at a time. What was different this time was that she didn't wake up as soon as the door opened. As a matter of fact, she didn't wake up when I called her. She just lay there motionless. I just knew. A rush of panic quickly streamed through my body but as quick as it entered, it left again and I sprang into training mode. She had taught me well on what to do in anticipation that this day would one day arrive. I didn't see her chest moving in the labored breathing that she had been doing for a while now. I didn't see it moving at all. No need to check for a pulse, like I said, I just knew. I walked over to the phone and dialed 911. I explained to the dispatcher that my mom was not breathing and non-responsive. In those days we had to give the information as to where we were located so I quickly told her our address and then waited for what seemed to be an eternity but was in actuality no more than a few minutes.


The ambulance pulled into the driveway and as I openend the front door of our house to let them in, the front doors of countless neighbors began to open to see what the fuss was all about. The paramedics went to my mom and checked for vitals and shook their heads at one another before glancing over in my direction. I stood there motionless but very composed. After all I was my mother's daughter and I had been trained well. No need to break down now, there would be time for that later. There was "business" to attend to. They loaded her lifeless body on to the gurney and covered her with a blanket. It was a cold January day after all. All the neighbors stood in their doorways as the ambulance passed by, quietly, with no rush. As I looked around the neighborhood, doors closed and they went on about their lives. I turned and went back to the phone.


I called my aunt and uncle who lived across town and gave them the news. I needed to go to the hospital to sign some papers and I would call them again when I got back. The next call was to a good friend of the family, who just happened to be a nurse in the family doctors office. Her husband would go pick up my little brother from school if I wasn't back in time to meet him at home and she would accompany me to the hospital and she called my church's office. I got in the car and headed north on Scott Street and she was standing on the corner as I pulled up to the street she lived on. She sized me over quickly and deduced that I really was quite capable of driving and let me continue on.


We got to the hospital and I was escorted into a room to fill out the papers. Lorraine waited in the waiting room for me. I was about half way through when my aunt and uncle came in. My aunt was very distraught and quite hysterical. I have to admit that I was a bit annoyed by it. My mom had been sick for quite a few years so while the exact timing might have been a surprise, the fact that she had finally died really wasn't. She was furious at me because I wasn't crying and all upset. She had no idea what I was feeling because quite frankly, I had no idea what I was feeling. I was sad but also relieved that my mother was no longer going to have to suffer. I had watched her suffer day in and day out. I saw her struggle to take a breath and struggle to walk the few feet to the bathroom. I had watched her struggle to keep up her strenghth on the rare occasion that someone would stop by to see her, only to collapse in a heap when they left. I knew that now she was at peace.


I finally finished the paperwork and was preparing to head home to break the news to my younger brother. I checked my watch and I knew I had enough time to get there and be there as he arrived home. My aunt and uncle decided to come to the house as well. I made them promise to wait behind a little bit so that I had a chance to explain to Kenny before they came in. It was going to be hard enough but I didn't need to worry about how much harder it would be on him if they were already there and she was out of control. Reluctantly they agreed and Lorraine wisely stayed behind with them to ensure they lived up to their end. I quickly raced home and straightened up a bit before Kenny came in. As soon as he came in, he just knew. He looked to me, his big sister, as the rock he had come to know over the past several years. He knew that somehow I'd lead us through all this.


He agreed to go stay at Lorraine's family's house for the evening so that I could go on to graduation. Now most people would have probably just canceled and not gone but that was never an option for me. Graduation was a very important thing to my mother and I wasn't about to let her down by not going and Lorraine was not going to let me go alone. There were three more calls I made, one to my boss, Lil, and one to Mrs. Harris who was the wife of my teacher and mentor who had died just two short months earlier and the third and final one to the phone company. My father and mother had been divorced for many, many years and I didn't have his phone number. He had a private, unlisted number and there was no way for me to reach him. I asked the phone company to contact him and ask him to call me, that it was an emergency. They agreed.


My aunt and uncle arrived and through, what I'm guessing to have been some stern warnings from Lorraine, acted like adults and did not stay long. They hugged Kenny, for which I was grateful and then said they would talk to us tomorrow. They were disappointed that I was going to go to graduation instead of going to their house but did their very best to hide their disapproval. I was, after all, my mother's daughter and they knew the stubborn streak that ran down that trunk of the tree all too well.


Shortly after they left, my father called and I filled him in. Now mind you, this was my father... he began to lambast me for calling him and disrupting his day. For the life of him he couldn't figure out why I had called him. Gotta admit that at that very moment, neither did I. Being the teen that I was, I just snapped back that "you were married to her for 18 years, I didn't think you'd want to just read about it in the Chicago Tribune. Sorry I bothered you" and I did something that would have met with disapproval from my mother, I hung up on him. She had always taught us to respect adults, but I have learned through the years that sometimes it's hard to respect adults who don't act like adults. Sorry Mom.


I went and cleaned up and got ready to go. I dropped Kenny off at Lorraine's and she and I went on to the high school. When I got there, Lil and Mrs. Harris were there for me as well. I had three very special people there to show their support and love. I remember being there but really don't remember too much about it. I know I got my diploma because I still have it in the box of memories that I have set aside in a corner of the storage shed. After graduation, the ladies took me out to eat - mostly to make sure that I did in fact eat. We went to a local restaurant called the Noble House in Mt. Prospect and they had live entertainment. The band was so sweet and even dedicated some songs to me and to my mother. I was truly blessed to have such sweet people in my life.


I went and picked up Kenny and headed home. He was still pretty upset and it took a while for me to calm him down and get him to finally fall asleep. Just as I was about to turn out the lights and head off to bed myself, the phone rang. On the other end was a very drunk version of the father I had hung up on just hours ago. This time he was being sweet as pie and the antenna in my brain shot up like a rocket. Of course HE decided that my mom would be buried on a hill under the shade of an old oak tree in some cemetery far away, yada, yada. Um, nope. My mom had left very explicit instructions and I was not going to waiver from all the training that I had been given. He and my aunt "had been talking" (uh-oh) and this was what they decided. I respectfully, yes really, declined and told them they had no say. I was meeting with the funeral director in the morning and I had everything written out in my mother's handwriting.


First thing in the morning I headed back to the high school that 24 hours earlier I was so looking forward to not having to grace again. I met with a counselor who helped me find and hire a local attorney. Imagine the look on my dad's and aunt's face when I arrived at the funeral home with an attorney in tow. Perhaps a bit of overkill but I was determined to follow my mother's wishes. They backed down immediately and let me handle it all. There I was at 17, the day after graduating high school, having to pick out a casket and all the arrangements to go with it, having to deal with disgruntled "family" and attorneys, and facing spending the next several months to a year settling an estate. Not what I had in mind for sure but I did what I had to do.


I grew up in a span of 24 hours more than most people take a decade or more to do. As the rest of my classmates were finishing out their high school years, I was heading on a train downtown to hearings and court dates. As they planned for the prom, I was settling into an apartment all alone. Kenny had gone to live with my dad and he refused to let me see or talk to him after that. It really was ok with me because I was having a hard enough time trying to take care of myself let alone a little brother too. Plus it was about time he took responsibility for one of the three children he fathered with my mother. My older brother had been missing for a few years, so I was dealing with private investigators trying to find him as well. Never did find him which made settling the estate that much harder. Not that there was really much to settle by the time the dust settled. They lawyers and PI's managed to wipe it all out in fees and we were left with nothing. I still had funeral bills and other bills to pay off myself and I paid back every last red cent owed.


So, you ask, why am I writing this now and why did I title it "It's hard to believe..."? Quite simple really, It's hard for me to believe that so many people can go through life taking for granted those everyday moments that can be wiped away forever in an instant. Oh it may not be on your graduation day, but mark my words, some time in your life you will cross that bridge. Please, for me, will you take just a few moments to really connect with those around you that you love? Will you tell them you love them and appreciate them? Can you do that for me? Because I can't do that anymore. Through the years I did make amends with my dad and my aunt and am forever grateful that I did before they too died. I learned a big lesson at a very vulnerable age and I have never let that lesson go to waste. In case I haven't told YOU lately, I love you and I am glad that our paths have crossed. Some of us walked the same road for a season and some of our lives just intersected for a moment, but each stretch of highway has blessed me and grown me into the woman that I have become. Thank-you and God Bless!

We had a dream....

After many years of hard times, we thought we were finally living it - the American dream. We had moved to this absolutely wonderful place in Tennessee which put us closer to our kids, there was plenty of room for Igloo (our American Eskimo) to run and a house that surpassed even our wildest dreams - for less than we paid for our little townhouse in Illinois.

We found an outstanding church and clicked right in. Real, authentic, compassionate, caring people whom we have come to love very, very much. For all practical purposes, everything was perfect. And it was, until one fateful afternoon when Igloo was killed along wtih the neighbors dog and our perfect little world showed signs of crashing. Less than two months later, Oliver lost the job that we believed that he would be at until retirement and beyond. We believed that it was God's plan as well and all in God's will. Enough so that we took every last dime we had to get here. And here we are. Our old furniture fit in this house like it was fitted for it and built around it. Couldn't have been more perfect. Lovely lot with a ton of trees and a gravel driveway and dirt road.

We have learned so many things about country life that was foreign to us just one short year ago. Many made us laugh until we cried and there were a few that made us cry until we laughed. But the biggest payoff was that we were able to feel. For so many years we had been held hostage to a society whose expectations molded our behaviour and attitudes to fit in with their expectations. Not so here. Here we have been allowed to be as authentic as any one person can be. If I'm having a bad day and I cry, well, by golly they let me cry and bring me a tissue. If I laugh til I cry, they're right there along side me laughing.

Things are murky at best now. We don't know which direction God has planned for us to go in. I know my hearts' desire is to stay, because there is still so much of the dream that is salvagable. But then there is the pulling force beyond that which demands that we stay in God's will. After all He is the one who has the whole big picture already filled out. I remember years ago standing and declaring from the bottom of my heart "Where you lead me I will follow, Where you send me I will go..." Thinking full well that this is where He sent me... and thinking - nice one Lord.

But like all Christians who have stood the test of time and faith, rarely does the final chapter end up wrapped up in such a neat package. This package was no different.

So here we are wondering what tomorrow will bring. Where in the world will Oliver land his next job? We realize that our dream home has become our Isaac. We will be putting it on the market for sale by owner and see how that pans out. If it's the Lord's will for it to sell, it will. If not, well then we still have it for a while. It's totally in His hands and in the meantime, I have come to understand that He has been imploring me to simplify and cut down on the excesses in our lives. We have too much stuff. So in obedience to Him, I am sorting and setting aside a good number of items to be put in a mammoth garage sale as soon as the weather warms... which could be in another month here.

We have little coming in from unemployment and my medicines and Cobra insurance wipe that out right off. That leaves only our meager savings to cover mortgage, utilities, insurance and food. We're doing the best we can. We've started selling Pampered Chef and we're hoping that will help some. We can float for one more month and then savings is depleted and credit cards are getting dangerously close to maxing out.

And yet there is liberation in being in such a vulnerable postition. My doctors at Vanderbilt have pretty much written me off because I do not have long term insurance plans. All of a sudden I am a number and not a very good financial risk for the institution, so these same doctors who were all gun ho when I got here to help me out, have now turned their back and left me high and dry. Disheartening to say the least but mercifully I serve a greater God who is the Divine Healer and I believe that He already has it all worked out.

And I really do believe He has it all worked out. I just need to be obedient to His call. And right now, this week, He is calling me to simplify and cut down on our excess. I don't believe He's leading us into missions, our age is definitely a factor there, not to mention health, but I do believe He has a plan in motion that we need to be ready for. And so we pray and move forward with what we believe to be His direction.

It's not always easy. There are days when the meds make me so sick I can hardly raise my head from the pillow but I fight those urges to give in and hide under the covers. Somedays it literally takes all my strength to take a shower and get dressed, but I do it. For I know that He does have a plan. He may not make it known today or tomorrow, but I certainly don't want to be caught off guard when it does come about.

We have a pastor that I can't even put into words. He may not be a "perfect" pastor to all, but he certainly is the perfect pastor for me and God knew way ahead of time that he was going to be exacctly what I needed. I have never felt so accepted, loved and stretched to be all I can be by any other pastor in my life. Oh there have been others before who have come close, but never any who have strengthened me, healed me, and loved me just for who I am... and really took the time to find out who that person is. He saw through my walls and came right on in and sat down to chat... and Pastor Rob, I love you for that.

He believed in me because he knew that God believed in me. At a time when my vessel has been more broken on so many levels for so many different directions, he saw something there and encouraged it and brought it to life at a time when the likelihood of that seemed almost impossible. He gave me the job of teaching a Lifepointe Class. A daunting task for a vessel who is whole let alone one whose shards seems scattered from one side of this country to another.

Today I am teaching one of those LifePointe classes and you know what? I LOVE it. Gotta admit I was a bit at a loss for words when the class started taking notes on what I was saying. That is a creepy feeling for the first time. But it just goes to show that God takes people at their most broken and turns them into a clay jar of beauty.

The future for us is full of mystery but also full of hope. My hearts desire is to stay here a while longer but I also know that if God calls us to move on, that we will do so with our heads held high and looking forward to the future and the hope He has promised us. We will never forget the lessons we have learned here from people who will ALWAYS have a very special place in our hearts.

My medications make me weepy and uncertain and a bit shaky, but the one thing I know without a doubt remains unchangeable is the God we serve and with Him my life will always turn out better. It may not seem so to the carnal eye, but I know that all heaven rejoices as one of His own move forward into the destiny that He has called them to. I hear your call and yes, Lord, where you lead me I will follow and where you send me I will go... grateful for the love and acceptance I have finally found along the way. Thank-you Jesus, from the bottom of my heart.

Whether that movement will be a physical move or just more stretching from where I'm at, I don't know, but I do know that I trust the one doing the calling more than life itself. Yes, Lord, where You lead me I will follow, Where You send me I will go. So whether I am here for only a few short months or hopefully for many more years, thank-you FaithPointe family for accepting me and allowing me to be me. You have helped me along in a healing process so much farther than you can possible know. I love y'all and if it's up to me, I'll be grazing in Grace with you for a long time to come but just in case that God has other plans, I know I have found friends for life and that has been a dream I have had for all my life. Thank-you all for the love and support that you have shown me and I count you among my most cherished blessings.

My prayer is that God compensates you highly for the blessing that you have been to me and my family. We love you and we know that God is smiling down on His highly favored children and one day when you meet Him in heaven, He will be saying "well done, thy good and fatihful servant." Thank-you and God Bless.

I cry for Haiti

The images flash across the screen of the horrors that are happening across the country of Haiti. Unimaginable images of the carnage and wreckage that has befallen that country and devestated them beyond measure. It's a sad, sad state of affairs to say the least and for most of us, there is nothing we can do but helplessly stand by with horror on our faces and deep rooted compassion in our hearts. My first instinct would be to try and help. After lookng at the overwhelming need, I'd be hard pressed to try and find out where to start. Add that to the fact that we are in no position to help. We have no income and neither one of us are healthy enough ourselves to be able to handle the dire circumstances that we'd have to face there. Neither are we trained. But that doesn't shut off our propensity to have compassion for these people who have been so devestated and so we do the one thing that we truly can do - pray. Pray for the victims, pray for the survivors, pray for the workers, pray for those who are still lost, pray for those who've been injured, pray for those who have lost and those who have reconnected wtih family members and friends who will never be the same.


Tonight as I watched in horror on 60 minutes as bodies were being dumped into dumpsters by endloaders trying to keep the threat of disease down to a minimum, the workers choking over the stench of rotting bodies, I couldn't even imagine the images in person being seared into the brains of those witnessing it first hand. Their lives will never be the same. It breaks my helpless little heart. These were real people, with families and loved ones and lives of their own just a few short days ago. Today everything that was familiar has been literally blown to pieces. That is so extremely sad.


I sat down tonight to blog about our last year of living without a microwave oven. We were not on any mission or green earth project, it just kinda happened that way. Our old home had a built in microwave and when we moved here, this home did not. So we had put in the contract to have an extra cabinet built to match the ones we have so that we'd have a place for the microwave. Me, in my infinite wisdom, told them that there wasn't no hurry. Not a smart statement to make in TN. And so here we have been roughing it for a whole year - and you know what? We've done remarkably fine without it. That's about as inconvenient and roughing it as we've gotten. Of course now, with the economy the way it is, we are facing the possibility, like so many others, of losing our home. Not an easy place to be but certainly not nearly as bad as the situation that countless numbers of people are having to live in in Haiti. We still have food and the car will keep us protected from the elements if it comes to that.


So I sit here and I ask the dear Lord to hear our prayers. I thank-Him that He is not to busy to hear each and every prayer that is being sent up His way. While our concerns may not be as dire as those of the people of Haiti, they are of no less importance to Him. It will take time and it will take a lot of manpower to resurrect a semblance of a country from the rubble in Haiti, but I know with God's grace and mercy working through normal people, it will be done.


And I know without a doubt that He will have answers for us - in His perfect timing - and I will wait for those answers and go wtih the flow. After all, He really does have more pressing prayer requests on His agenda for more immediate needs. If there were a way to do it, I'd open my doors to have some of the Haitians come stay with us so that we could pray together and thank-God for His awesome grace and mercy in the midst of such absolute carnage. He's there... you can see him in the eyes of the children and in the hopes of the parents. He's there and He's here. He is the great I AM! and for that, I am forever grateful. Please say a prayer tonight for all those who are struggling tonight and today as they face uncertainty in a future that by the looks of it look frought with no hope. Pray that they too will see that God already had in place a way to give them a hope and a future and it's been that way for thousands of years - long before they were a blip on the radar of God's screen.


As you go to bed tonight, I would ask you to thank God for the blessings in your own life. You need not look far to find them. With all the bad stuff He'll be hearing for a while, it would be really nice if His children could remind Him that they are so very grateful too. I know I am. God Bless and good night!

My road to football queen

I wasn't born with the football gene. The men in my family were born with it - or more accurately - the Bears gene. I was a very young tyke who got shooed out of the room on football Sunday when the beloved Bears came on to play. I always wanted to learn about this mysterious game but none of them could take the time to explain while the game was on. Of course that only lasted until I was 5 years old and my dad moved out. Then football was banned from the house, although baseball was allowed to stay. So I grew up not really knowing a thing about football and wondering why seemingly grown up men would fight over a little piece of pigskin that each of them could go buy down at the local Toys R Us.

And so it was with compete naivety that I got married to a football fan-atic. And I mean fanatic. We had to have three tvs set up in the living room so that we could see the action on each of the games going on simultaneously. I have to give the hubmonster and his friends credit though, they were very patient in explaining the action to me as it was happening. I was not about to spend the rest of my life banished to the bedroom on Sunday afternoons, listening to the action in the living room. I learned about offense and defense and their moves. There were times of miscommunication, like when they were talking about tight-ends. I would focus on the well sculpted rear ends of the players - regardless of their positions - and found out that the tight ends they were referring to rarely lined up with the ones my eyes were drawn to. All in all I caught on pretty quick. Another slight glitch came the first time I made a bathroom run between quarters. Seems the boys forgot to mention to me that the teams traded sides/goals. I came out and thought that they were running the wrong way on the first play. Ok, so they got a good laugh out of that one.

But I got the last laugh that season. It was playoff time and a very busy time at Denny's. I was home pregnant with Dan and they were all working at the restaurant. Every break they had, they'd call home to get the blow by blow from me. All was well until one particular call.... it went something like this...

Oliver: Who has the ball.
Peg : nobody
Oliver: There is a defense and an offense, one of them has to have the ball.
Peg : nope, nobody has the ball, it's just on the field.
Oliver: Again, somebody has to have the ball.
Peg: Wait, someone does have the ball now.
Oliver: I told you so... who has the ball.
Peg: The referee.
Oliver: Ugh.
Peg: If you'd shut up long enough, I can explain....
Oliver: heavy sighing and trying not to blow his top.
Peg: Turns out that it was under review and they were still trying to understand whose ball it was. After review I was able to tell him the outcome. Needless to say, from then on he brought a radio to work and didn't call home for the blow by blow... wisely knowing that I would have flung the tv at him when he walked in the door.

To add insult to injury, I really was a quick learner and picked up on the game quite quickly. So what started out to be what they thought was an easy mark for the football pool turned out to be a winning and winning and winning proposition for me. Now I have to admit that my "system" was not the most scientific, but it always seemed to work for me. I'd start with looking at the colors of the two teams... anybody who went against a green colored team automatically got my vote, with the exception of Green Bay. Certain teams were favorites all along... the Bears, the Chargers, the Cowboys, the Rams, etc. Now usually that was all it took to pick my winners. But then there were other factors that came into play - like how well the hindquarters of certain quarterbacks looked in their uniforms. A cute butt could trump a color pretense - Joe Montana for example was a fine specimen in his uniform. I still use that criteria although these days I can actually include game statistics.

Technology has brought us a long way, baby. No longer do we have three tv's hooked up at a time in the living room. No longer do I have to be helpless as the stations flipped from one game to another at the will of my husband's instinctis of who might be in a better position to score. God bless the advent of the NFL Red Zone where professionals do the flipping for us and we can actually see the best of the scoring options. No longer do I have to remember the play by play for those who might have wandered from the action - I can just pause and rewind and let them see for themselves. I can also use this to my advantage when one of my teams does extremely well and I can rewind and do the hippy hippy shake dance of victory.

So as we inch closer and closer to the big Super Bowl Game, you can bet that I will be putting my old system to good use although I am no longer involved in any pools. Seems my record was too good and I've been banned from all the old stand-bys. After all even seasoned gamblers can't stand to lose to the same person year after year.

So that's my system and I'm sticking to it. It's worked for me for over 30 years and a wise old man once told me - you don't fix something that's not broken. Thanks Gramps... you're absolutely right. Rest in peace - your granddaughter is carrying on the tradition well. You'd be proud. Now, where's that remote?

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!