Catching Up

It has been an exhausting, yet exhilirating week; a roller coaster ride of emotions. The service for Dad C was awesome. Someone said they thought he would have enjoyed it. I think he would. Kristen put together a wonderful slide show with the help of a church friend. She's trying to post it. Keep checking. There were many tears, and an equal amount of laughter. The stories from the grandkids were priceless. Today is Mom's 88th birthday, and she's having kind of a rough time. Thank the Lord her sister came out just in time and will stay awhile.

Yesterday I was reading in Proverbs, as I have been doing all this year. It was Proverbs 4, for the 4th day of the month. It was verse 18 that struck me as so appropriate for this day, and it epitomizes this godly man:

The ways of right-living people glow with light; the longer they live, the brighter they shine. (The Message)

Apparently at the very end of his life, he was a blessing to the nurses and aids who worked with him. One day, when he was hunched over in his chair and couldn't sit up any longer, he asked one of the workers to kneel down at his feet. She was a bit taken aback, but she did as he said. He put his hand on her head and prayed for her, blessing her for all she had done for him. It had a profound effect on her.

People sent beautiful flowers, of course. Mom's wishes were for all monetary contributions to go to missions. That makes sense, knowing how they prayed for missions every day. But I want to share a couple of the outstanding arrangements, which were sent by DC's and his sister's employers.

If you can enlarge the one on the right, you'll see some very unusual flowers - the hydrangea is a color I've never seen before. There are some bright red velvety ones that are just gorgeous, but I can't remember the name. Does anybody know?

I've mentioned before that I work at a large university. It was the ag school for many years. Because of its roots, it still has a rather ag feel in some ways. There is a huge horticultural presence and every year they plant the most fabulous array of flowers in an experimental setting. I took quite a few shots the other day and hope you can get a sense of how beautiful this spot is.

I'm going to end this rambling post today with a song that I have run across four times in the last few days. I take that as a message that I should share it.

In His Time

In His Time

He makes all things beautiful

In His Time

Lord, please show me every day

As you're leading me Your way,

That you do just what You say

In Your Time

Thank you!

I hope to post about the homegoing celebration soon. We still have company and the funeral was only this morning. It was indeed a celebration. I just wanted to stop by and express my gratitude to the wonderful comments I received on the memorial picture. Dad C was always a shepherd at heart - even to the point of always loving to carry a walking stick that was long enough to be a staff! He had several lovely shorter sticks, but this was his one of choice. I heard in one of the stories about him that I'd never heard that he carried this one on a plane one time. You couldn't do that now!

I have to go back to work tomorrow now and try to dig out from under the e-mails, voice mails, and snail mails. But hopefully I can write tomorrow evening.

In Memory

Irving Fritz Carlson

June 8, 1913 - September 30, 2006

11:40 a.m.

Home With Jesus

Update

Believe it or not, it is Saturday and Dad C is still hanging on to his earthly presence (at least as far as we know - no phone call yet this morning). He has been comatose, Hospice is there, but it is almost as if he's hanging on for a purpose. Only God knows if he can hear what's happening at this point. Thankfully, the nursing home finally moved him into a room where "Moving' on up to the East Side" isn't blaring from the roommate's t.v. set. It seemed wrong to me that a godly man who was so close to going home should have to be listening to old sitcoms. Maybe he is as reluctant to leave his Anna as she is to see him go. Maybe he's waiting for his son, daughter-in-law, all 6 of their children, and 2 of the great-grands to arrive tomorrow. They're coming a long ways and leaving this morning. Only God knows this mystery. Thank you all for your wonderful comments and your prayers. If you haven't read a granddaughter's point of view, go to Kristen's page at http://kristenssocalledlife.blogspot.com/. Thank you again for your prayers and thoughts. If you wonder what I'm talking about, see yesterday's post.

He's On his Way Home!

On July 24 I wrote about my mother-in-law and entitled it "A Servant Heart." At the time, her sweetheart of 65 years had just been moved into a nursing care facility down the hall from her assisted living apartment. She carried hope in her heart that this was a temporary move for him, though the rest of us were certain it was not.

His quality of life has been negligible for quite a few months now. Today, he is slipping into eternity to meet with the Lord he has served and loved for so many years. It is only a matter of hours, and Hospice is caring for him. His sweetheart now finds it easier to be in her apartment than to be at his side when he doesn't know she's there.

I can't get really mushy about my father-in-law. He was not a mushy kind of guy. He has been a character all the years I've known him. He wasn't a sit-on-the-lap, saying "I love you" kind of grandpa. He used to scold the kids when they wouldn't eat all of their food. He did mellow greatly as he got older.

I would classify him as a stubborn Swede, the same as I classify my own dad! He was a Chicagoan who spent time in Sweden as a youth. He knew quite a bit of Swedish and never forgot it. His dad was a butcher in Chicago, but though he was a born and bred city guy, I always thought of him as a farmer at heart. He pastored small rural churches and always had huge gardens - keeping Mom busy canning in the late summer and early fall. One thing he did carry over from his butcher background, though, was his creation every year of Swedish potato sausage.

He was a musician at heart as well. He had a beautiful singing voice in his youth, and enjoyed playing the "mouth organ" or harmonica. In fact, he was making music with it just a few weeks ago - no matter that people were sitting around him trying to visit! He also had an antique zither that he loved to use as accompaniment to singing.

He was a maniac driver. I'll never forget when I was pregnant the first time, we were visiting them back in Wisconsin. I was in the back seat with my head in DC's lap so that I wouldn't throw up in the car, as he took the curves way too fast. I have heard many stories of when he was a young pastor and was on his way home for the day - you could see the dust flying down those country roads from several miles away. He actually had his motorized cart taken away from him a few months ago because he kept speeding down the hall and running into other elderly residents! Not a good thing with people shuffling behind their walkers!

He was also an amateur fixer-of-everything. Some of his inventions and solutions to problems were hilarious. He also loved to create his own medicines and frequently diagnosed his own illnesses with the prescription to match. I'll never forget the day I went to visit them and the house absolutely reeked of garlic - he was making his own garlic salt and he had enough to salt everything in the state of Colorado!

As he aged, one of the things he began doing was talking to the pastor in the middle of the sermon - mostly in the smaller evening services, fortunately. He was so used to being in the pulpit, I think, that he couldn't stop "preaching." Then he would fall asleep (or "rest his eyes") during the rest of the service.

When they moved from the apartment to assisted living, we took many of their things to our house, where they reside in our basement. I was going through them recently and found so many notes that he had made for sermons. Many were for radio broadcasts. I would have liked to have known him when he was young and on the go, running from appointment to appointment, coming home at night to his young family, making them laugh, being a wonderful dad.

He could pray! I loved to hear him pray. When we would visit them before they moved out here, they always had devotions with breakfast. He literally prayed around the world for every missionary he'd ever met, for the country they worked in, for every grandchild, every relative. The kids would get antsy, but that never bothered him! One day recently he was sitting in the corner in his big recliner as the rest of us were visiting. You never knew whether he was sleeping, ignoring, or didn't hear what was going on. This particular day I asked him what he was doing. He said, "I was just thinking about how to improve my prayer life." Wow! That gave me a start. If he hadn't figured it out yet, what hope is there for me??

He will be missed by his 3 children, their spouses, his 9 grandchildren, his 11 great-grandchildren, parishioners from many churches, members of our church, residents of the apartments. But he will soon join those who have gone ahead of him, including one of his grandsons. We do not want him to stay here just for us.

Good-bye, Dad.

Wordless Wednesday

Helping Grandpa Clean the Ice Chest

Birthday Musings

Today I am 59 years old. I’m not squeamish about saying my age. I just can’t believe it came so soon! It has gone so fast! When I look at pictures of people in the paper, for instance, who are famous or infamous and are my age, I often wonder, “Do I look that old?”

My mom and dad were only 18 and 21 when I was born. Dad was in the Navy, stationed in Memphis. Mom was staying with her parents in Monticello, Minnesota until after the big event and I was born in the big city, Minneapolis, 50 miles away.

Dad hitch-hiked from Memphis to Monticello around the time I was due. Unfortunately, I was late and he had to report back to the base. Doubly unfortunate, he had been granted additional time by his superior, but he didn’t get the word in time. Fortunately, the superior was a really good guy and let him go back home when I finally arrived.

I have been thinking a lot these past few days about the things that have occurred in my body in the last few years – things I don’t feel old enough for yet. Here they are, in no logical order:

~~Brown spots on my hands. At least they’re not on my face! I saw this commercial last night for some product that’s supposed to make our faces look like we’re 20 again, fading all those brown spots.

~~“I’m sitting on the floor playing games with the grandkids, and I can’t get up!” When did the ability to pop right back up from the floor go away?Arthritis, possibly, well probably.

~~Loss of good vision – that goes on and on. I’ve worn contacts for 37 years. A few years ago I had to add reading glasses to the mix – over the contacts, with bifocals on the side. The power of the reading glasses increased every few months. Finally, I had at least 7 pairs of 1.75 reading glasses scattered all over my world – on top of the microwave, on the lamp table in the bedroom, in my den where I have devotions, in my purse, at work. Add to that reading sunglasses, regular sunglasses for driving, sunglasses to go over the bifocals (really ugly!), and it got to be just too much to keep up with. So I gave up on the vanity and dumped the contacts. Now I have a pair of bifocals and a pair of bifocal sunglasses.

~~More about vision – when I’m getting ready in the morning, I put my glasses on after applying my miniscule amount of make-up and combing my hair. Hmmm. I looked much better in the pre-glasses fog! And my shower looked much cleaner before I looked in there with my glasses on!

~~Loss of short-term memory. As you can tell by what I write, my memory of the “good old days” is pretty good. I just can’t remember my mom’s phone number when I go to call her. Or what I came downstairs for! Or the great word that I was going to say next – it’s just gone!

~~I make funny sounds in the night – according to my husband. I have to believe him – why would he make up such a disgusting story when he loves me so much?? I wake up numerous times during the night, so rest isn’t the best. Oh, the joys of the M word!

~~I’m tired! I enjoy my job, where I spend half of the work week. And I love my grandkids passionately, with whom I spend the other half. But there is a God-given reason that children are most often born to the young.

~~And then there’s the weight thing. It goes on much more easily than it comes off at this stage of the game. The more I think about it, there might be a connection here with the reason I’m tired and why I have a lack of energy. There is a definite correlation between how often I go to the gym and how I feel. I’m too tired to go, so I don’t. Then I feel worse. If I just get there, I feel so much better. What a conundrum. I absolutely refuse to resize my wedding ring!

NOW for the good news – I am the eldest of five siblings and I have the least gray hair!!

Have a wonderful week.

Teen Challenge

I've spoken a lot about Teen Challenge in the last few posts. I thought it might be helpful to explain a bit about it, since some haven't heard of this program.

I first heard of this organization back in the early 70s when my husband and I were teen sponsors in our church. We took a group of teen-agers over to the eastern part of the state one evening for a rally with David Wilkerson. Dave started this program in 1958 when he felt called by God from a pastorate in rural Pennsylvania to the roughest part of New York City to work with lost and broken kids. You can read his story in his book called The Cross and the Switchblade.

Fast forward to about 4 years ago when I heard that the son of an old friend had gone to Teen Challenge. I didn't know the whole story, but knew that it usually involved drug addiction if you went there. Three years ago, our son needed help and we tried to steer him in TC's direction. He was not interested at the time, because he would have to take a year of his life to get well. It will be two years in December when things were at a point that he finally realized his need of major help and decided to take this giant step of faith. Usually a person has to be at a point of death or jail to be ready to do this program.

You can go to http://www.teenchallengeusa.com/ to learn more about the philosophy, the locations, and basic information about Teen Challenge. It is not only for teens; in fact, most of those who go are adults. Our son went far away from home so that he would not be tempted to bolt and go back to his old friends and habits. It was a very difficult time for all of us. He ended up staying for 18 months, but it was worth every difficult moment. God took over in such a mighty way. Those who go to a TC setting are called students. And that is exactly what they are. They study for hours every day on a Bible-based curriculum. They spend many other hours a day in some sort of work activity. His particular work assignment was fund-raising at store fronts all up and down the eastern seaboard. He could write a book about those experiences! There were many times when he wanted to give up and come home. But prayer and encouragement from many sources kept him strong.

TC is a probably not for everyone. As I said before, you have to be at the very end of yourself and your man-made solutions. God works in mighty and miraculous ways when He is allowed to. We give Him all the praise. We also have tremendous gratitude to those who prayed for and supported him throughout this time of healing and deliverance.

Random Ramblings

It is a gray, drizzly fall day in Colorado. I love fall in Colorado. It's not as colorful as Minnesota or the Ozarks, but the weather is wonderful. It is usually very sunny, but we're not complaining because we had about 10 drops of rain all summer. The main color of fall here is a bright yellow. The aspens are nested among the evergreens in the hills and when the sun catches the patches of yellow, it is a wonderful sight. We do have a few red bushes and trees, but not too many. Midwestern transplants are not impressed with the coloring.

We've had a very busy few days. Saturday was a great celebration of our beloved DIL's graduation with her second bachelor's degree. The family, about 18 of us, got together for lunch and all of her favorite foods, at least American foods. She's from Kenya and misses the foods of her childhood. But we did manage to get a beautiful Black Forest cake which was just as she remembered. That evening we cheered her on as she graduated. The ceremony was so touching, with stories of hard fought victories to achieve this goal. God was glorified in several of the stories. It was awesome.

Monday evening we went to Denver to attend the first-ever banquet held for the Teen Challenge program down there. We attended the banquet last year at this time in Massachusetts, visiting our son there for the first time in 9 months. It is a wonderful memory. We owe so much to Teen Challenge. Our delivered prodigal son and his faithful wife went with us to Denver and it was wonderful to watch him see TC from this side. We heard great speakers who had graduated from TC years ago and have gone on to excel in their fields. We also heard wonderful testimonies from current and recent students. I love their mission statement:

To provide youth, adults, and families with an effective and comprehensive Christian faith-based solution to life-controlling drug and alcohol problems in

order to become productive members of society.

By applying biblical principles, Teen Challenge endeavors to help

people become mentally sound, emotionally balanced, socially adjusted, physically well, and spiritually alive.

All of this was accomplished in our son's life and we are so grateful to God for his mighty grace.

I told you this was going to be random.

I'm re-reading books that I read years ago. They were written in the 80s and 90s by Boede Thoene. They chronicle Hitler's march across Europe as the Jewish people were forced to leave. They make me angry, but I can't seem to put them down. The first book in chronological order is Vienna Prelude. There is a conversation between a mother and her son in the one I am currently reading, Jerusalem Interlude, that really struck me:

"I do not doubt God's future justice . . . I only wish it would come now. Today."

"We mortals have a small and troubled view of time, Samuel. . . If the wicked could have one glimpse of their eternal future, perhaps they would repent. . . And if the righteous could have one glimpse of their eternity with God, they would no longer fear what evil men might do to them in this life. No. I think we might pity the wicked man for the price he will pay for his sin."

But we're like the son, I fear. We want to DO something. We (at least I) often have a hard time waiting for God's timing.

Finally, in this smorgasbord of thoughts this morning, I am again going to quote a song from choir practice last night. I wish you could have the music, too. It is "A Heart of Praise," by Kenn Mann.

One priceless gift,

Your life you gave,

There's no way on earth I ever could repay.

You've always been my closest friend,

Lord there are no words that I can say.

So I'll offer up to You all I have,

A heart of praise.

Lord, I'm forever grateful

For the ways You've blessed my life,

You've proven You are faithful.

In laughter or in sorrow,

Every tear You've wiped away.

Lord I'll worship You forever,

And give to you a heart of praise.

Lord, with my voice I'll always sing.

Let my song become to You my offering.

A sacrifice, Lord, I give my life

To the One who gave His precious life away.

So I'll offer up to You all I have.

A heart of praise.

When all is said and done,

and my life on earth is through,

Let me please be remembered as Your servant

Who gave to You,

A heart of praise.

Lord, I'm forever grateful

For the ways You've blessed my life,

You've proven You are faithful.

In laughter or in sorrow,

Every tears You've wiped away.

Lord, I'll worship you forever,

And give to you a heart of praise.

Have a wonderful day with a heart full of praise!

Songs that Blessed Me Yesterday

I love Sundays. Often they are not really restful, but they are blessed. One of the songs we sang yesterday morning was "He Giveth More Grace." Interestingly, there was an article in our weekly periodical that told a bit of background for this great song. Jeanne Zornes tells the story of Annie Johnson Flint who wrote the words. She died in 1932. (Hubert Mitchell put it to music in 1941). Annie was orphaned at age six and raised by adoptive parents. She started writing poetry at age nine. She suffered from arthritis and by early adulthood was an invalid. In her constant pain, she knew how God "giveth and giveth and giveth again" or how God promises strength for the day. She also wrote "God Hath Not Promised Skies Always Blue."

Here are the words I love to sing:

He giveth more grace when the burdens grow greater;
He sendeth more strength when the labors increase.
To added affliction He addeth His mercy;
To multiplied trials, His multiplied peace.

When we have exhausted our store of endurance,
When our strength has failed ere the day is half done,
When we reach the end of our hoarded resources,
Our Father's full giving is only begun.

His love has no limit;
His grace has no measure.
His pow'r has no boundary known unto man.
For out of His infinite riches in Jesus,
He giveth, and giveth, and giveth again!

In choir we sang the great newer song (1998) written by Roger Bennett, both words and music. He was a member of the Cathedrals, and is to this day struggling with leukemia. The song is simply called "Healing." When I sing it I think of Kevin and his healing from drug addiction. He is a new creation. All things are new. Here are the words:

The night was so dark, I felt in my heart my song had come to an end,
My spirit was willing but my body was weak,
I thought this is the way it would end.
But Jesus came in like a thief in the night,
He touched me and I was made whole,
My song did not end, it started over again,
And I want everybody to know
The story of my healing, O healing,
The Great Physician ministered healing to my soul;
The ills of my body were healed by the stripes on His back,
The Great Physician ministered healing to my soul.

My happiness gone, my day turned to night,
My soul was barren and dry;
The things of this world had all let me down,
Satan had me living a lie,
But then Jesus came, He heard my heart's cry,
He touched me and I was made whole,
His grace set me free, His love lifted me,
And I want everybody to know
The story of my healing, O healing,
The Great Physician ministered healing to my soul;
The ills of my body were healed by the stripes on His back,
The Great Physician ministered healing to my soul.

If you're in the valley of the shadow of death,
You think that your time is at hand,
Don't think for a moment He's forgotten your name,
At the crossing of Jordan true healing begins!

The ills of my body were healed by the stripes on His back,
The Great Physician ministered healing to my soul,
The Great Physician ministered healing to my soul.

Have a great week with a song in your heart!


TOTALLY UNRELATED ADDENDUM: Kristen from http://kristenssocalledlife.blogspot.com/ is trying to get 125 comments on her 125th post. Please help her reach this goal. Thanks!

Ode to Mrs. B.

This isn't really an ode, because an ode is a poetry style. Since I'm more into prose than poetry, I will not be writing an ode. But it seemed a proper title for a tribute to Mrs. B. That's what we called her. She was my favorite teacher EVER.

I have had many good teachers. I loved school. Many of them I remember clearly. But my fond memories of Mrs. B. rise above them all.

We were living in the Twin Cities area for two years, attending a very large school. I had great teachers there. I didn't really fit in socially, so I worked very hard in my classes and excelled academically instead. I didn't like biology, but for some reason I was going to be my biology teacher's assistant the next year. This meant I would type his tests and grade them, and grade homework as well. I was excited about this opportunity. It made me feel important.

That summer, Dad accepted a call to a church in Nebraska. I was always adventurous and ready to move. Especially this time, for reasons too long to go into at this time. We moved to Omaha, but quickly discovered that we had missed the huge school boundary line by one block. We would be taking the bus to a small town outside of Omaha, and it was a very small town school. I rather looked down my nose at this idea. I discovered that I had really been looking forward to the academic advantages of the big school in Minnesota.

The first day of school arrived. I discovered that I had a grand total of 82 people in my new junior class. I was in Mrs. B's English class. That very first day of class, Mrs. B told us she was the adviser of the school newspaper and needed a junior to "groom for the editorship" the next year. Hmmm, I said to myself. That sounds like fun. For some reason, I raised my hand. One other girl raised her hand as well. I knew I would never get the job, because I was the new kid and everyone else had been together since kindergarten, it seemed. She looked at the two of us and asked us to talk to her after class. Imagine my surprise when she offered to let us co-edit the paper the next year, and be members of the staff this year. I jumped at the chance.

At dinner that night, I was telling my exciting news. My dad said, "So, which would you rather be - a big fish in a little pond, or a little fish in a big pond?" Interesting thought!

I had Mrs. B. in English for two years and also for journalism. My co-editor became my best friend. We had the greatest time interviewing the poet laureate of Nebraska, Mari Sandos; going to a Goldwater rally where Ronald Reagan spoke; holding a mock election. We even went downtown Omaha to try to get an interview with Richard Nixon - and succeeded! I have the autograph to prove it. That is another whole story!

But Mrs. B. also taught us to love good literature. We read Shakespeare, Canterbury Tales, Silas Marner, and many other classics. We did major projects which made them come alive. She taught us to look at the world with different eyes and write what we saw. My confidence grew. She was the kind of teacher that you visited on vacations from college to tell her how well she had prepared you for the future.

We thought Mrs. B. was old. She and I reconnected years later and kept in touch with Christmas letters. When I went to my 30th reunion, two friends and I went to visit her. We had a delightful visit, and it really brought us up short when we realized that at the time she taught us, she was the age we had now become!

Last year I went for my 40th reunion. My good friend and I were able to locate her once again, this time in a nursing home. She was now blind. How sad for someone who loved nothing more than to read books and to write letters. She didn't enjoy books on tape. It was amazing, though. We felt like she could see into our souls as we visited with her that day.

I found out yesterday that Mrs. B. died last week. She was 88. I am so thankful that I kept that connection and visited with her one more time. Never wait until it's too late if you have the inclination that you need to contact someone.

*TOTALLY UNRELATED ADDENDUM: Kristen from http://kristenssocalledlife.blogspot.com/ is trying to get 125 comments on her 125th post. Please help her reach this goal. Thanks!

BA, Anyone?

I am waiting for someone to begin a support group - Bloggers Anonymous. At that time, all of us who have known each other anonymously can meet face to face! Face it - we have an addiction. I wonder how soon it will become a part of the DSM-IV (Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, Fourth Edition). I can see it now: Blogmania, a recently diagnosed mental disorder with the following symptoms:

• Computer is on 24/7
• You are running to the computer every few minutes
• Laundry is piling up
• Meals have become the frozen variety
• Conversation with mate revolves around what you read in cyberspace
• Blogger problems become bigger than life
• Your mind is always thinking of what to write next
• Depression occurs if there are fewer than 7 comments on any given day
• You are sleep deprived from staying up reading hundreds of messages

Of course, this is an exaggeration, and meant to be a bit tongue in cheek. Seriously, it does become addictive. But there are so many good things about this new mania:

• I have met so many wonderful people from so many places - Canada, Chili, Australia, every state I've lived in.
• I have found so many kindred spirits who know my Jesus.
• I have seen miracles through the prayers of these new friends.
• I have laughed and cried, both with tears running down my cheeks.
• I have discovered people who have such a gift of words.
• I have found astounding spiritual truths from new acquaintances.
• I have been challenged to be a better Christian.
• I have become better acquainted with family members who are bloggers also.
• I now look at everything that happens as a potential post. It has opened my eyes to a whole new way of looking at things.
• My memory has been jogged and I realize what a wonderful life I have had.
• I was reduced to happy tears when so many people welcomed our prodigal home. God is so good!
• So many of us will someday meet, if not in this life at least in the next.

Tell me what you think - want to join?

Where Were You When . . . . ?

There have been defining moments in the history of our lives and of our country that I have experienced. As we commemorate this horrible day in the life of America, I am drawn to those other watershed days as well. September 11, 2001 - I was on my way to work. Kristen and I rode to work together in those days and we dropped her stepson off at day-care and headed across town. The first tower was hit. My first thought was that it was a small plane and the pilot had somehow gotten off course. Between the time I parked my car and got into my office, the second one had hit. My son called to see if I knew what was going on - he couldn't get to class because he couldn't keep his eyes off the news.

I go back in my mind to November 22, 1963, the day President Kennedy was shot. I did not like him personally or politically. In fact, as an 8th grader I had become very politically aware and had campaigned against him as fanatically as an eighth grader, who is not even old enough to vote, can do. But I was just as sad and stunned that day as the rest of the world. What was happening to us? I was in 11th grade algebra class. The class clown came in and told us the president had been shot. We told him to quit - that it wasn't funny to say something like that. Little did we know that the innocence of our youth was shattered that day, and would be much more so as Bobby Kennedy and Martin Luther King were subsequently killed in the aftermath. What dark days those were.

Where were you the day of the Challenger explosion, which killed astronauts and the first teacher in space, Christa McAuliffe? I was working in an elementary school at the time, serving lunch. I walked in at 10:15 to find the entire school in the sunken library - with not a sound to be heard. That was the most amazing feeling - complete silence in an elementary school. I had walked that day, so had not heard the news. Another jolting tragedy.

Where were you on the day the Murrah Building was bombed in Oklahoma City? I was here at my desk when I began to hear bits and pieces of the news that April morning. I knew that my brother worked in a federal building down there, but had no idea which one. There were many tense moments as I tried to reach him - which of course was impossible. I finally learned, thank the Lord, that he was two blocks away. But the blast was so powerful that he was thrown across his desk and hit the wall on the other side of his office. If he had not been thrown out of his desk chair, he would have probably been killed, because the window and casing came in and landed right on his desk.

Where were you when the Columbine High School slaughter happened? Again, I was here at my job. I went to the student center for lunch and found more students than normal were gathered around the t.v. sets, again in total silence.

All of these events have changed us as individuals and as a country. It has made us more fearful, more cynical, more sad. Our hope is in the Lord, who made heaven and earth. He knows what is in the hearts of men and what will happen. As my husband reminded us yesterday in Sunday school class, we need to be ready for eternity, because it can happen in a heartbeat when we least expect it. This is not meant to be maudlin or depressing, but to make us think about our mortality and the immortality of our hope in Jesus.

God bless you all.

Love is a Very Embarrassing (oops Splendid) Thing

Kristen, here , has posted a very embarrassing moment. She has asked us to join her in the revealing of ours as well. It took me awhile to come up with one, because I think I tend to suppress such moments - it's definitely not that I don't have any!

I've had plenty of times when I've fallen (on ice, into a huge hole on campus, off my bike, etc. etc.), and immediately start looking around to see if anyone's watching before I assess my injuries. But this one I had forgotten until my husband reminded me.

Now DC is one of the sweetest, most thoughtful guys in the world. He buys great gifts and plans great surprises. He would never do anything to intentionally hurt or embarrass me. I didn't think, anyway! I really don't think he intended for this to embarrass me. But it did!!

Our church used to always have a Valentine's banquet. We used to go to a restaurant and rent a big room, then began having them catered at church. One of the last "outings" was in a neighboring town. It was a very well attended function this particular year. As everyone sat around long tables and visited, waiting for the dinner to be served, DC brought out a beautifully wrapped package. My Valentine gift! I couldn't figure out quite why he was giving it to me in such a public place - I still can't!

I opened it and immediately turned the color of this very bright red piece of Victoria's-Secret-Worthy lingerie. Yikes! I held it up, BRIEFLY, and crammed it back into the box. I was on the verge of tears. I wish I could find the picture someone took of the occasion, catching the horrified expression on the sweet, very conservative, my-mother's-age woman who was watching me open the gift.

Suffice it to say, I stuffed the box under my chair and began to try very hard to change the subject of the conversation. I suppose it hurt his feelings, but I took it back the following Monday. It was not something I would ever wear. I know he wished I would.

I will settle for flowers and/or chocolates any day!

Go on over to http://kristenssocalledlife.blogspot.com/ and link your most embarrassing moment. Should be fun!

Yardful of Memories

On July 1, I wrote about the day we moved into this house 28 years ago. I mentioned that I wanted to stay here long enough for my grandkids to climb the trees. This is a dream that has come true. There are many memories in our yard.

The spring after we moved in, we began landscaping with a vengeance. We had contracted with a nursery in town to create a plan for our yard, and we in turn would buy a percentage of the trees and bushes from them. We ended up buying almost everything from them, if I remember correctly. DC was very busy that spring with his job, so it fell upon me (a totally indoors kind of person), to plant the trees and bushes. I had two small children, but I would faithfully get out there every morning, dig 5-6 holes, and run to the nursery to pick up that many bare root bushes. It was an extremely wet spring that year and every time we'd prepare for a big project, the rain would come and make muck out of our dirt, also filling up any holes we had dug or trenches that had been prepared for the sprinkling system. I remember the day that we finally put in grass seed, trying to beat the coming rainstorm, thinking it would be great to have God give the pre-lawn its first good watering. Well, He sent a gully-washer, and every newly purchased seed ended up against the patio or around the newly-planted trees. We had a great crop of grass in totally inappropriate places! We tried again.

I described the adventure of planting of a very tall sapling in the previously linked post. Needless to say, it became my favorite tree in the yard. Here is a picture of it - a Marshall Seedless Ash.

A few years later, DC's parents went back to Wisconsin to the old home place, in the woods up north. Unbelievably, they brought us home two trees for our growing yard. How those trees made the long trip without dying is a miracle in itself. One was a Blue Spruce, about 2 feet tall. It now stands at least 30 feet. What a great memory for my husband of his childhood at his grandma's place. The picture is on the left below. The other one they brought was a maple of some variety. It stands at the corner of the house and is pictured on the right below.

Amazingly, the next spring, wild flowers and wild raspberries began to sprout around that maple tree - they had come out here from Wisconsin in the ball of dirt that surrounded the roots. They made it through that 1200 mile trip, through replanting, through winter, and came back to life in the spring. God puts amazing spunk into his plants! DC transplanted some, and especially the raspberries thrived. Feisty is standing in front of the raspberry patch, some of which are surviving wild ones. The rest are domestic. Are they delicious!! Feisty is also standing beside a fledgling apple tree. Another great story to follow.

If you look very carefully, you will see, on Feisty's left, the apple tree. It's about 5 feet tall. Four years ago in July, Anakin was eating an apple. He was 4 at the time. After he finished, we had a great discussion on how apples come to be. He asked if we could plant the seeds from the middle of his apple. We threw them in the ground in the flower bed right beside the patio. Lo and behold, one week later, they both sprouted. They grew so much each summer that I finally talked DC into transplanting the stronger one so that it wouldn't get too big to move and destroy the flower bed. Anakin wonders when he will get to eat an apple from it - probably about the time he goes to college. The wonders of God's plan!

Evidence of God's Power

Labor Day week-end five years ago was so exciting for our family. We were having a wedding! Our son had spent time in Africa in school and had fallen in love. Not something we expected when we sent him there for an adventure! She became his Swahili tutor, and soon became much more.

He came home and she stayed there for her senior year of college. He went back for her graduation and brought her to America. There is a very long story in between these two sentences, including the hiring of an immigration attorney, fighting with the American Embassy in Kenya, sending endless documents proving their legitimate relationship (that she wasn't just coming to America to "live the good life" and would divorce him shortly thereafter), struggling with more issues at the embassy, finally receiving a fiancee visa for her to come. They had to be married within 90 days of her arrival in the U.S.

She lived with us, he moved into an apartment on campus where he would attend school a few miles north of us. We spent many hours getting acquainted, planning the wedding, shopping for the wedding, and all of the things the mother of the bride normally does. Unfortunately, her mom didn't get in on any of it. They weren't even able to attend. Her dad sent a wonderful message that was read as my son's uncle "gave the bride away." They recited their vows in Swahili as my brother officiated the ceremony.

The wedding was lovely. The marriage struggled. They, and we, have been to hell and back in the last five years. We are so grateful to God that they are still married and that life is on its way up once again.

This is our prodigal that you have prayed for and welcomed home. He told me this week that they are enjoying each other so much again - they have literally had to start over.

Only the grace of God has brought them and us to this point. I asked her once if she wouldn't like to forget he ever existed and go back to Africa. She said, "Oh, no, I made a commitment!" She has stuck with him through thick and very, very thin. She lived with us, worked full time, and went to school while he was at Teen Challenge. She has another degree ALMOST under her belt - she'll graduate again later this month. He is going to school again, having maintained a 3.7 or above gpa in spite of all the trauma of his life.

Praise God with us!

Random conversations with the kiddoes

The other day when the girls and I walked with the double stroller to pick Anakin up from school, he immediately noticed the miniature pink Care Bears in their hands. The ensuing conversation:

A: Where did you get those??
CB: We got them at Burger King.
A: You went to Burger King without me?? That's not fair!
Me: Well,. A, you're in school at lunch time.
A: You shouldn't go without me.
CB: We went to Sean's this morning to play!
A, with fingers in ears: Don't tell me fun things you do without me!
Me: Do you expect us to stay home and twiddle our thumbs all day because you're in school?
A: Yes. There's nothing fun at school.
Me: Well, A., that's your job now, to go to school and learn lots of stuff.

Growing up can be the pits!

Care Bear after her bath this morning: I'm freezing cold!
Me: That's why we wipe off your skin with a towel, because wet skin makes you feel cold.
CB: No, that's not the way it goes - I read about it in a big book!
Me: Well, let's put on your clothes and you'll feel warmer.
CB: No, not those. I need jeans and long sleeves!

Summer has gone and fall has come very quickly. I went and got the gift I was going to give her tomorrow. She's so excited - she says the pants look like cotton candy!

Feisty is just being feisty - nothing profound today, just every day conversation with a bit of screeching mixed in. I did call her "Scooter Wooter," and she corrected me with her real name (which I can't say!)

Ooops, I spoke to soon - she just hollered down here to me, "I'm too little for this!" I decided I'd better check to see what that meant. She had dragged out the box of 48 granola bars from Sam's that I hadn't opened yet and was trying to get one to eat. They're quite independent today! Earlier they got the Goldfish crackers from the high cupboard, with the help of a chair.

In the tub CB asked me: Grandma, when were you little?
Me: Well, CB, 55 years ago I was your age! ( See previous post celebrating her 4th birthday)

Yikes! Reality check there.

They've admired their combed hair in the mirror and now we're off to the library for story time - we'll be late if I don't hush. Have a great long week-end!

Happy Birthday, Care Bear!

The day you become a grandmother for the first time is indescribable. It wasn't supposed to be for 3 more weeks. What excitement! Kristen describes the day in detail. The room was full of people awaiting the arrival. When Kristen was born, nobody was allowed in the room except Daddy. Only our pastor could visit after she was born. My sister and her husband came running to the hospital when we let them know we were there, but they had to stay in a different room and talk to me on the phone as I was in labor. What a change!

We all left the room as Care Bear actually arrived - we thought it was a moment to be shared with the Mommy and Daddy, without so many spectators. But we were there moments later. What a thrill to see this new tiny little life.

The picture was taken on my birthday. I was in another world as she snuggled on my shoulder. Life took on a whole new dimension when she was born. All of the memories of new motherhood came back so clearly. All of the joys and struggles rushed back as if they were yesterday, not 27 years before. If you go to Kristen's post, you will see the picture of Care Bear in church for the first time, wearing the dress her mommy wore on her first Sunday in church, when she was one week old. What a special day for me!

The last four years have gone so quickly. Care Bear, as she is called in blogland, has brought so much joy to our lives. She is incredibly bright (I would go so far as to say gifted). She "gets" so much of life at such a young age. She has an amazing vocabulary and uses the words in the correct context. I am consistently amazed at what she knows and understands. My greatest wish and prayer is that she will become the person God wants her to be. I know God has a plan for her life, and I want to watch that plan unfold. Happy Birthday, sweet Care Bear!

Call Me Grandma Dawn???

I have only been blogging since June. It has been fun. At first I thought I'd never be able to come up with posts very often. Now I find that I see everything as a possibility to write about. This has been a gift to me.

I must give credit to my daughter of Mama's So-Called Life. She introduced me to Partners in Prayer for our Prodigals and it has taken off from there. I am technologically challenged. I wasn't even really thinking about blogging, but had been reading and posting as "Anonymous." One day she called and said, "You're all set up, Mom. All you have to do is go in and create your first post." She also told me that she had named my blog "Call Me Grandma Dawn."

There is a reason for that name. Obviously, I am a grandma to her children. If you've read me, you know that I take care of them half time while she works - we work at the same university and share job time, but not the same job. We're incredibly fortunate to be able to have these schedules.

But the name Grandma Dawn really started with her step son, whom she has named Anakin for anonymity. He has been in our lives since he was 2 and now he's 8. His paternal grandma lives far away, and his maternal grandma is not in the picture very often (fortunately for him, I feel). He began calling us Grandma Dawn and Grandpa Dwight as soon as he could talk. He initiated us to grandparenting and we loved it.

These kids have so many grandmas and grandpas living close to them that it can get confusing. So sometimes Care Bear also calls us by those names. Feisty probably will as well as time goes by. It's fine with us!

Happy Monday!

I thought this would be a good way to start out the week. The picture below is referred to here. Double click on the picture to see it better.

A Novel Approach

I have been tagged for the novel idea. I realized that I can put words together fairly well, but simply am not a story creator. I can tell a story of something that happened, and if I wrote a novel, it would definitely have to be based on fact. I have a hard time making up a story for my grandkids! The question is:

If you could write a novel about any subject, what would it be?

Believe it or not, every time I woke up during the night (more times than I wish!), I tried to think of a subject for a novel. Pathetic! I devour novels, probably more than I should. But I just can't think of an original idea for another one.

So - I really don't have a good comment for this idea. I do have a book in my head. I've been ruminating on it for years, but haven't put anything down on "paper." The title came out of a period of time when things were really tough for us. I wanted to call it It's Out of My Hands, But it's Still in My Face. The idea came one day when a co-worker and I were commiserating about the yucky stuff in our lives at that time. I said I wished my kids were still little so I could still have some control over their lives. She said, "But it's out of our hands!" I lamented, "I know, but it's still in my face!"

Someone later told me that it was a negative idea - that if I truly trusted God in all of my problems, I shouldn't consider it to be "in my face." What I meant by that statement, and by the title (I thought Barbara Johnson would like that title), was that no matter what happens, whether or not you can have any input or control, good or bad, if it happens to your family members, it affects you. You can't just pretend it didn't happen, or ignore it.

I know I didn't answer the question at hand, but that's the best I can do. If I get a flash of inspiration at a later time, I will be sure to let you know!

Several commented from my engagement story that they'd like to hear the volleyball story I mentioned. I'll try to make to short and sweet - especially sweet!

I was living back in my parents' house after a couple of years of teaching and being in my own place. It was pretty hard, though my folks and I got along just fine. But finances dictated that I do this for awhile. I was driving 100 miles to and from work every day and loved the job I had. (On a side note, I had a little Mustang and spent about $10 a week on gas! You could get a Big Mac, Fries, and a Coke and get change from your dollar, as I remember the commercial - the change was a penny).

I was really lonely, because there were very few young adults in our little church, especially of the male persuasion. My dad, who was also my pastor, was very involved in the association of evangelical churches in our town. This was before mega churches, when we all needed each other for fellowship, because we were all under 100 people in attendance. He and his pastor best friend suggested that I contact all of their fellow pastors to see if we could get a group of young adults together for fellowship, and maybe make it into a regular occurrence. I happened to know that this friend of Dad's had a son about my age - according to the grapevine. Unfortunately, he wouldn't introduce us, so I had to take matters into my own hands.

I truly did try - I called all of the churches. I couldn't seem to get much interest aroused. But I did get the name and phone number of the pastor's son, and learned that there was another young guy in that same church, who had just moved out from Illinois.

At that time, our SS class was playing volleyball every Thursday night. I alluded to my clumsiness in the engagement story. I don't know how it happens that sports entered into two of my big romance stories. It is quite ironic, since I really don't actively participate in any sport -the closest I come is walking and bike riding. I was one of those who was chosen last at recess - painful memories! I was fairly good in basketball in P.E., but only because I was so tall and could actually make a basket.

But I digress. After I had the two names of the single guys, and didn't have much luck getting any more (or maybe I quit trying very hard, I can't remember!), I made a suggestion to my SS class that we invite their church young adult SS class over to play volleyball some Thursday night. Nobody suspected my ulterior motive. I even went out and bought a new pair of slacks and a top for the occasion - red gingham pants with a red shirt. Yikes! All the other girls came in their usual grubs for the game. You gotta use all the ammunition you can get!

I am REALLY lousy at volleyball. I can't serve, I duck every time the ball comes toward me. I basically hate volleyball. I just liked the fellowship every Thursday night. This particular night, with these two young guys who did show up (they loved sports of any variety), I fell down more times than I can count. Truth be told, I was spending most of my time flirting with the pastor's son, kind of ignoring the other one, the new guy in town.

Sorry - this is turning into a book! I went away for the week-end to visit my college roommate, fearing that one of them would call and I would miss it. Worse news! Neither called!

But -- the next Tuesday night, New Guy in Town called. We had a great conversation and it ended in a date for a Sunday drive that week-end. The next night Pastor's Son called and asked me to go to the Icecapades on Saturday night! I couldn't believe it. My social life had been a total desert for years. Two dates in one week-end! And I kind of made it happen!

As Pastor's Son and I headed out of town on Saturday night, New Guy in Town saw us. We didn't see him. The Icecapades were great - I'd always wanted to go. Pastor's Son didn't ask for another date at that time. New Guy and I had a great ride. We talked and talked and talked - had so much in common as oldest pastor's kids. We'd both been through several traumatic romances, had lived by ourselves long enough to know what we were looking for in a mate. He mentioned at least a dozen possible dates for the rest of the summer. We did many of them.

Well, there's much more, but this is too long already. Suffice it to say that we fell in love, got engaged, got married 8 months after we met, and it's now almost 34 years later. We introduced my sister to Pastor's Son when she came home for our younger brother's wedding. They began a long distance romance and he told her he loved her at our wedding reception. They were married 11 months later. We have been best friends and relatives ever since.

Not The End, but a good stopping place!

They're Ba-a-a-a-a-ack!!!

I love my job. I really do. Most of the time. I am into my 14th year shepherding MSW (master of social work) students through the grad school process, which can be pretty niggly and not very student friendly, IMHO. I am known as Mother Dawn here instead of Grandma Dawn. This is a gift that was given to me by the Class of 2001.

I feel it is my calling to be light and salt in this place where the lessons taught are often counter to my beliefs. Each year I have at least one Christian student who really needs a soft place to land after a day of being hit on every side by non-Christian ideas.

But I have to say that I like summers on campus a lot. Sometimes we have to remind ourselves that the reason we exist is for the students. But summer is so nice! Even though there are conferences almost every week and hundreds of future students come for orientation, it is still so peaceful and beautiful. Lunch hour is a true break.

Unlike now - all 27,000 are back! Almost 4,000 freshmen are here! Have you ever gone to the parking lot and forgotten where you parked? Imagine this sight as you come out of class and are ready to go home ~~~~ This is one of the larger parking areas, among probably 30 of various sizes.

I am a people watcher. I love go sit at the airport and watch people. I enjoy the people at the zoo almost more than the animals. We are fascinating creatures. I cringe when I see some once-handsome young man who has died his hair BRIGHT BLUE - I feel for his mom! I can't tell you how tired I have become of belly buttons - I look forward to winter when they have to cover up. I am fearful for the guys whose pants are so loose - they have no hips to hold them up. It's almost OOPS sometimes. Scary!

I almost lost my lunch one day as I gazed out of the windows of the student center at the panorama of the mountains to the west. It was an awesome view - until I zeroed in on a young couple sitting on the hill eating their lunch on a beautiful spring day. She had her back to me and suffice it to say that her jeans or slacks or shorts, or whatever she had on, were not sufficient - her entire thong was on display for the world to see. YEWWWW!

One day I decided to count the students wearing flip flops. Just for fun. It was fun. I couldn't believe it - on my lunch hour, I counted over 350 pairs of flip flops - all varieties, colors, materials, sizes. It was hilarious to me.

Yesterday I almost laughed out loud as this young man walked by me. I'm sorry, I just couldn't help it. I don't know if he was a wanna-bee Pirate of the Caribbean or what. He had jet black hair (not given him by God, I am sure). He was wearing black leggings with almost hip-high pirate boots - leather with the top folded down. Quite dramatic (wish I'd had my camera!). Did you ever see the Seinfeld episode where Jerry was supposed to go on the Tonight Show wearing this really frilly shirt? That's what this young guy had on. It was like watching a train wreck - it was painful to see, but I couldn't help looking! It made my day.

When I was in college, we worried so much about having our hair combed (teased, sprayed, covered with a scarf so the Oklahoma wind didn't take it away!) We couldn't even wear pants! My, my I am getting old. Better stop reminiscing.

THOUGHT FOR THE DAY: Humor is to life what shock absorbers are to automobiles. Proverbs 17:22 (The Message) "A cheerful disposition is good for your health; gloom and doom leave you bone-tired."

Have a cheerful day!

Of Roller Skates and Diamond Rings

I felt a strange sensation this morning - a shiver. It's been a long time since I've been chilly. It's been such a hot summer. But there is a nip of fall in the air at times. The first gaggle of geese flew overhead the other evening, with their raucous honking hailing the promise of autumn. We will undoubtedly have our share of Indian Summer days yet, but there is hope.

I love autumn. My birthday is in the autumn. I loved the beginning of school each year in autumn. I love the colors. I became engaged in the autumn.

The owners of our local roller-skating rink announced this week that they are retiring from the skating business. They have not been able to find a buyer. They have hosted millions of elementary kids over the years for fund-raisers for their neighborhood schools. I don't have any fond memories of this place, but my children enjoyed their times there.

I heard this week also that the rink in the neighboring town closed sometime back. I did not realize it. It was the only rink close by for many years before ours opened. Two major events occurred at this rink. My pastor dad broke his leg and was in a cast for six months while skating with the youth of our church at this rink. I became engaged at this rink.

I love my romance story, and will someday share more. But this is about the engagement. DC and I had gone together for only a few weeks when we began to talk about marriage and actually picked out our rings. We were 25 and 30 and had been through several relationships each, and knew what we were looking for in a life partner. We chose a diamond with a microscopic flaw to remind each other that neither of us is perfect. We chose a beautiful setting, and for some reason the diamond had to travel to Kansas City to be mounted. Don't ask me why!

One autumn Saturday I went shopping for fabric and came upon the perfect material for my wedding dress. I stopped by DC's apartment and told him we needed to tell our parents we were getting married, because the fabric was only going to be on sale until Monday. I didn't really think I should buy my wedding dress material before my mom knew I was getting married! DC was watching a football game and seemed to be a bit more concerned with it than with my quandary. Little did I know.

We were going skating that evening with his sister and her husband. I was living in a basement apartment in my folks' parsonage at the time. DC came to pick me up and we went to the neighboring town for our skating date. I am a clutz, plain and simple. I am not a good skater. But I did many things for this guy that I wouldn't do for anyone else.

We were having a good time, and I wasn't doing too badly. The lights went down, the younger kids were told to clear the floor for the adult skate. The romantic song, "Ebb Tide" came on. We were enjoying ourselves and each other. I wasn't falling down! DC began to ask me very interesting questions about what I would do if we were married. Some of these questions would seem quite old-fashioned and inappropriate to the younger generation, I am sure. They didn't seem so to me. I answered them honestly. We were heading around a curve on the skating floor when he brought a little box from his pocket and showed it to me. He proposed right there in the middle of the skating rink as the beautiful romantic song played to lowered lights. I was in such shock that I lost all of my skating ability and ran right into the wall! Fortunately, I didn't break my leg as my dad had, and didn't even fall down and make a spectacle of myself.

As the story unfolded, shortly after I left DC's apartment that day, with his assurance that we would soon tell our parents, he received a phone call from the jeweler. The ring was in. I had gone back to the fabric store and purchased the beautiful velvet material and pattern for my dress. We had decided upon a right-after-Christmas wedding, since everyone would be here for Christmas and likely would not be able to turn around and come back for a spring wedding.

He rushed to the city north of us to pick up the ring. As I was preparing for our date in the basement apartment, he had come early to get my dad's blessing on our engagement - an old-fashioned and thoroughly wonderful custom, as far as I'm concerned.

I can't remember if I've ever skated since that time. Sometime I'll have to write about the volleyball game where we first met! But for almost thirty-four years I've enjoyed married life with this man, who still enjoys surprising me.

Rush to Justice

Today's title is a term you hear often if you watch detective/cop shows. Need I apologize for watching Law and Order? The term refers to the tendency to blame someone for a crime before all of the facts are in.

I am afraid that I have been guilty, along with most of the known world, of rushing to justice in the Jon Benet Ramsey murder case. For ten years, I have been in agreement with the Boulder justice system that John and Patsy were "under an umbrella of suspicion." After all, Patsy had to be a bit crazed to put her daughter out there for the world to see, dolled up like a woman 4 times her age! Or maybe it was the much older father. Or maybe it was the slightly older jealous brother. Or maybe it was her step-brother.

There didn't seem to be any obvious evidence that someone came into the basement from outside the home - no tracks in the snow, no broken windows. John and Patsy took their surviving young son and ran back to a place where they wouldn't feel the constant scrutiny. But they couldn't escape the National Enquirer, the Globe, or any number of other supermarket rags constantly reminding us that the murder was still unresolved and that some "new evidence" still pointed fingers at Patsy.

Patsy died in June, having fought ovarian cancer for many years, even before the tragedy that forever changed their lives. I can't help but speculate that all of the negative press could have shortened her life.

I am so happy that someone has confessed. I am so sad that this man had taught school and was seeking another teaching job. Who knows what other horrors he has inflicted upon children. I imagine we'll learn more than we ever wanted to know. But there is so much I want to know.

I watched footage of Patsy's funeral where her pastor eulogized her in a way that made me realize she truly loved God and was living for Him. John was quoted this morning saying he would not speculate or comment on anything he knows, especially in light of the trauma they had been through as a family. He said that we should all learn a lesson from this "episode" - that we should be very careful to jump to horrendous conclusions. I thought he was very gracious in light of what they had endured.

The news reports say Patsy knew before she died that there was a viable suspect. I hope God gives her a peak at the news today and that she can rest in peace. I know in the theological part of my mind that she knows no sorrow in heaven. But in my mother's heart, I want her to know that she has been vindicated. I hope she and Jon Benet are having a great reunion.

***EDITORIAL COMMENT:

I hope we didn't rush to excitement, now that so many things are out about this guy. I wish the media would cool it. The first thing I read that concerned me was that he said he picked her up at school and took her to the basement - it was Christmas night, for crying out loud!! Whether or not he did this horrendous crime, he needed to be caught. And put away. Forever.

God has a Funny Bone

We have talked quite a bit about God's mysterious ways of late. God also has a sense of humor. How else do you explain the giraffe, the platypus, the kangaroo?

Saturday evening we attended a beautiful wedding reception. The wedding was held in the bride's location, and most of the church people were not able to attend. The groom was a part of our body of Christ since he was born - a fine, Christian young man. I remember hosting his baby shower and making his cakes - a teddy bear and a giraffe, if my memory serves me correctly. I was so creative in those days. On another subject, my most oft uttered phrase these days seems to be, "I used to . . ."

The groom went to college about 6 years ago, seriously dating a beautiful girl he'd met in high school and had brought to youth group. The young lady became an inspirational Christian and it was a joy to watch her growth in God. They went to separate colleges for the first year, but couldn't take the separation, so she joined him at his school for their sophomore year. The summer after their junior year, to everyone's shock and sadness, they broke up. She went back to school, met another great young guy, got married . . .

The young man got a job back in the Midwest where he went to school, bought a house, rented rooms to college friends, and seemed to be happily settled as a young bachelor. He came home during college spring break, to spend the time in the mountains at his family's cabin. His cousin brought a friend with her, and each of his brothers had brought friends, so there was a great group of young adults up there having a great time. They took off one morning on their four-wheelers in fresh new, beautiful spring snow. The cousin and her friend were on the vehicle ahead of the young man. The friend was on a tube. She fell off the tube just as the young man turned around to look behind him. He did not see her fall off the tube and land in the soft, deep snow. He drove right over her! Amazingly, she was protected by the deep snow from any injury. She had an angel riding with her that day.

The young man and the young woman had not really become acquainted yet, because there were so many kids. But soon after this incident, he took her for a ride in the family plane and they began and long, getting-acquainted conversation. At the end of the vacation, they headed in opposite directions to their careers, never to be the same!

The young man became very dissatisfied with his job, resigned, put his house up for sale, and headed back west. He moved to the town where she lived so that they could become better acquainted. As you can imagine, they soon became engaged and began planning their wedding.

I really had a strong feeling that this would happen and imagined the great story they could someday tell their children. I just learned this week-end that the cousin who brought her friend to this gathering had been praying for several years that these two young people would meet. She just KNEW they were right for each other. God answered her prayers - and in such an amazing way! The picture of the bride and her bridesmaids jumping with joy in the air said it all - the friend/cousin who introduced them had the most glorious smile on her face. Now she and her best friend are cousins!

God's mysterious ways!

Memories of Grandma S.

There have been quite a few grandma memories lately, which led me to think of my dad's tiny little mother. I began a growth spurt leading to my lofty height between fifth and sixth grade. I outgrew my little Swedish grandma in about the 4th grade. Grandma was so tiny that she had a hard time cooking and washing dishes in normal sized kitchens. She had her old farm kitchen remodeled to fit her size. I had a hard time helping her with the dishes from the time I was 10 years old.

So many memories - where do I start and what do I cut out?? Many of the memories are not mine, of course, but my dad's. He was ten years old when he walked down the aisle of the church to be dedicated with his two older brothers. Grandma and Grandpa were not converted until they lost a baby to stillbirth. The pastor of the church they attended told them that the baby was not safe because she hadn't been baptized. My grandfather had a major temper at that time and ordered the pastor away, and told him never to return. A young pastor in town heard about the loss and came to their home to express his condolences and to pray with them. He assured them that an innocent stillborn baby would not be in hell. They were converted shortly afterward, and had their children dedicated. My dad became a pastor and his two older brothers became missionaries. There were subsequently two more children.

My earliest memories are of Christmas celebrations at their old farmhouse with the cousins who were home on furlough from Africa. What great times we had in her cold upstairs playing missionary, or Billy Graham Crusade!

Grandma was a wonderful cook. My other grandma, who lived only a mile or so away, was younger and worked in town. She had wonderful store-bought goodies and pop in her house, but Grandma S. always had homemade goodies in her freezer to pop out when anyone stopped by for "coffee." My fondest memory is the teeny-tiny pieces of cake that she would serve still frozen. To this day I love frozen cake!

I inherited one of her idiosyncrasies - she had to go through her entire list of kids before she got to the one she was talking to or about. I do that with my brothers' names. Must be a gene thing. She had the greatest laugh - and her eyes crinkled closed when she got tickled.

Lilacs, strawberries, raspberries, "cukes" (cucumbers), African violets, the sound of mourning doves - all are things that take me instantly back to her house. We grandkids had such great times making clubhouses out of the outbuildings, creating "Five Rock Patio" under a circle of trees in the back yard, burying a bird in Five Rock Patio. My brothers, sister, and cousins all had great times in the hayloft, but I was unable to join that fun because of my fear of heights.

The most incredible story about my grandparents is hardly believable. She lived on the farm down the road from his family. He was 10 years old when his mother took him down to visit the new baby. He looked in her crib and said, "That's the girl I'm going to marry." Truly! He spent the last ten years of his life following a heart attack in a depressed state, lying on the couch, with his back to the room. He died when I was 17, so I can't say that I really knew him. I just remember his gigantic hands and how much taller he was than she. But Grandma never lost her joy in spite of it all.

One of my clearest memories is of the time after Grandpa died. Her 4 sons were trying to talk her into selling the house and moving into town. She wasn't ready to do that yet, and she was standing in the middle of the circle of these large men, telling them in no uncertain terms that she was not going to sell. She didn't! At least not for a few years. She did eventually move to town and continued to attend church - the folks who picked her up found her unconscious on the floor one Sunday morning. It's a good thing she was in town. She ended up in the nursing home for the last 5 years. She didn't really remember me when I took my first baby to visit her. It was sad.

But the saddest thing of all was when my folks and I took her on a long ride one day, to all of the places where she'd lived in her life that we could find. She remembered everything about them as if it were yesterday. We took her back to the nursing home, said good-bye to her, and she stood on the sidewalk waving until she couldn't see us any longer. Dad realized he'd forgotten his glasses in her room, so he went back within a few minutes. She was still standing on the sidewalk (I don't know why nobody had helped her back to her room already), she looked at Dad and said, "Who are you?" Heartbreak for my dad! A few days later, when they'd gone back to Arkansas, she died. My dad had the privilege of officiating at her funeral. I wasn't able to go to the funeral, because I was going back there for my other grandparents' 50th anniversary two weeks later and I couldn't afford two trips. I was heartbroken. My sweet husband came home that night with an African violet for me, not knowing that it was one of her favorites.

My latest memory happened a few years ago when my sister, cousin from Africa, and I decided to go out to the old property and see what was still there. It had been sold years before, but nobody had ever done anything with it yet. Among the high weeds we found that all of the building's foundations were still there. We found evidence of our old clubhouses, and little bits of the lilac bushes. My sister, who is very creative, picked up several souvenirs, which to me looked like junk, some barn wood for a frame, brought them home, and made a wonderful memory-filled collage. Isn't that just what God does? He takes what looks like junk in our lives and can turn it into something wonderful if we allow Him to.

As we were tramping around in the weeds, I said, "I wonder what people would think if they drove by here and saw us out here in the weeds." My cousin, the missionary kid who had grown up to be a missionary said, "They'd just think we were a bunch of preacher's and missionary's kids searching for our roots!" So true!

I just heard that a huge Wal-Mart sits on that property now. I don't think I want to ever see that. I will stick with my wonderful memories!

Thirteen Things I Will Never Understand

1. Vandalism - why kids are out at 2:00 in the morning doing damage to the library, the senior center, schools, the rec center, bronze sculptures in their town.
2. Thong underwear.
3. Drivers who jump into the fast lane and then slow down, causing me to have to almost hit them.
4. Cell phones in church - and the people who forget to turn them off!
5. Girls who wear huge words on the back of their shorts or sweats.
6. The allure of Las Vegas - to me it seems like a huge monument to greed and false hope.
7. People who have dogs that they never play with, who bark 24/7 and drive the neighbors crazy. One of our neighbors told the complaining neighbor that if they didn't like it, they could move!
8. Lousy editing in the newspaper - typos and usage errors in headlines and stories. My English teacher personality wants a red pen in hand as I read the paper.
9. Adults who can't follow directions - I work so hard to make things clear and easy to understand and I still get too many questions.
10. Wearing flip flops in the snow.
11. Why some people have such great hair and I DON'T.
12. Why people walk around in groups of friends, each one talking to someone else on the phone.
13. Why time goes faster every year!
    
    
    
    
    

Toilet Paper Blessing??

It seems that everything I've been writing about lately has been written by someone else. But this one I can't resist.

It came out in the call-in part of our "overgrown small town" newspaper. People love to complain about everything and anything, and they don't have to identify themselves, so it gets pretty crazy sometimes. Evidently there's been quite a bit of tp'ing going on around here lately. Several people have called in to complain. But yesterday there was a letter to the editor that looked at it with an entirely different slant.

The letter was entitled "God works mysteriously through toilet paper." The woman who wrote the letter belonged to a Bible study group. They were discussing miracles one day when the leader told this story about her dear little aunt, who was a true woman of God. "She lived on very limited Social Security payments, but never complained. One night she was praying, 'Lord, I know you provide all my needs and I trust in you. I won't receive another check for four or five days. Now, Lord, I can manage everything else, but I just don't know how I'm going to manage being completely out of toilet paper.'

"That night she went to bed assured her needs would be provided. The next morning she looked out the window and the entire front of her house had been tp'd. She went out and rolled up all the toilet paper and had enough to last her the rest of the week.

"True story. Now, I never look at a house that has been tp'd that I don't recall this story with a smile."

It made me laugh out loud. I'd love to meet this little old saint! I also love the fact that the headline writer actually "got it!"

Deliverance!

When I began this blogland journey, it was at the time of the return of our prodigal. I received such a tremendous amount of encouragement and love from people I will probably never meet. Diane organized a cyber-welcome home party. It was wonderful.

It's been two months now and he is doing well. He and his wife are renewing their relationship. He will be taking two courses this fall until he can be a fully admitted student in the spring.

The other day I was discussing his experience at Teen Challenge with him. I remarked that I don't consider his experience to be "rehab." I didn't even think of it as "recovery." He said, no, not even "restoration." He said "deliverance" is what has happened to him. Praise the Lord!

Deliverance isn't a word we hear often. But God has interesting ways of bringing things to our attention. The next week at my church convention, I heard the word at least three times from the pulpit. The following Sunday, there was an article in a church periodical on this very subject. Here is what it said:

The children of Israel were delivered from their bondage in Egypt in the same way in which sinners are delivered from the fetters of sin today. Let us examine the elements of their deliverance, which also apply to us.

1. Recognition of personal bondage. They admitted they were slaves under the heel of the enemy. So must every sinner. This is the first step in the direction of victory.
2. Complete abhorrence of the fetters that bind. If a person loves sinful habits, he or she is not a candidate for deliverance from them. Hating sin is a prerequisite to deliverance from sin. Israel found it so.
3. Admitting the utter failure of self-deliverance. Humans always try to save themselves. Moses tried to deliver the people in his own way, but failed. Many are in bondage today because they try to deliver themselves.
4. A daring faith in God's power to deliver. Moses had to come to that place where he trusted God to make a way where there seemingly was no way. There is no deliverance without faith, for faith brings God's power into play.
5. Explicit obedience to and cooperation with God's methods of deliverance. God has ways to deliver that we know nothing about. Naaman had to go God's way. So did Moses. So will you. His methods may seem strange, but results come.
6. Joyfully give God the glory for deliverance. The first thing the children of Israel did following their deliverance was to sing. The joy of the Lord is still our strength. When God delivers, give Him the credit.
7. Continued obedience avoids a return to bondage. Israel had trouble at this point. So do some people today. The way to insure a continued deliverance is the way of continued obedience. You can keep the victory!

- Fletcher Spruce

The Subject of Difficulty - Part II

Yesterday I quoted Oswald Chambers from My Utmost for His Highest on the Discipline of Difficulty. Yesterday was one of my days at home with the little kiddoes. I don't mean to infer that they are "difficulty," but last evening I was unusually tired from my day of grandmothering. Part of it, I deduced, was because of a change in the weather - I used to notice when I was teaching school that when there was a drastic change, the kids went berserk. (By the way, we got some relief from the heat, which helped immensely). At the library story time yesterday, most of the kids were figuratively climbing the walls (mine were unusually docile by this time). The poor story lady! But this all went together to kind of take the stuffing out of me.

I decided to ditch choir practice last night and be lazy at home. That's when I reread my post - the part that says "If you spend yourself out physically, you become exhausted; but spend yourself spiritually, and you get more strength." I know that I always feel better after choir practice, no matter how tired I am. So I went.

I'm glad I did. We sang one of the songs that has always blessed me when we do it. Here it is:

Just Stand

Regi Stone and Michael Popham

Weeping only lasts a night. How long will this night be?

In the shadow of your burdens, it's hard for you to see.

Though the trials you may face may bring you to your knees,

There's no better place for you to be

Than at the end of your abilities.

When you've done all you can to stand, stand on Him!

Though all the world around is sinking sand;

When it seems that you just can't go on, in your weakness, HE'LL BE STRONG!

When you feel like you've done everything you can, JUST STAND.

If it seems there's one more mountain, one more war to fight.

One more time you feel forsaken, and there's no hope in sight;

Remember where He's brought you from and what He's brought you through.

There's nothing that's too hard for God to do.

For through it all He's always seen you through.

Stand upon His promises, stand upon His Word.

Every step He takes with you, every prayer He heard.

When you've done all you can, just stand on Him.

Though all the world around is sinking sand;

When it seems that you just can't go on, in your weakness, HE'LL BE STRONG!

When you feel like you've done everything you can,

When you feel that you have finally reached the end,

JUST STAND.

When you're feeling all alone, JUST STAND on his Word.

JUST STAND!

JUST STAND!

JUST STAND!

The Discipline of Difficulty

I am feeling, after reading so many of your blogs that I am a shallow thinker - some of your insights and studies of the Word make me feel like a real slacker.

So many difficult things have been shared in cyberspace these past few weeks, and we've prayed and seen great things happen. We've also seen things that are still very difficult that are happening and don't seem to be "resolved."

I am always amazed at how God has writers put things in devotional books or other literature that is to be read on a certain day. He knows just what we're going to need on a certain day in history and that we're going to read it! He is an awesome God.

That said, I'm going to quote from Oswald Chambers verbatim today - even the title.

John 16:33 - "In the world ye shall have tribulation: but be of good cheer; I have overcome the world."

"An average view of the Christian life is that it means deliverance from trouble. It is deliverance in (italics mine) trouble, which is very difficult. 'He that dwelleth in the secret place of the Most High . . . there shall no evil befall thee' - no plague can come nigh the place where you are at one with God.

If you are a child of God, there certaily will be troubles to meet, but Jesus says do not be surprised when they come. 'In the world ye shall have tribulation: but be of good cheer, I have overcome the world, there is nothing for you to fear.' ... God does not give us overcoming life: He gives us life as we overcome. The strain is the strength. If there is no strain, there is no strength. Are you asking God to give you life and liberty and joy? He cannot, unless you will accept the strain. Immediately you face the strain, you will get the strength. Overcome your own timidity and take the step, and God will give you to eat of the tree of life and you will get nourishment. If you spend yourself out physically, you become exhausted; but spend yourself spiritually, and you get more strength. God never gives strength for tomorrow, or for the next hour, but only for the strain of the minute.

The temptation is to face difficulties from a commonsense standpoint. The saint is hilarious when he is crushed with difficulties because the thing is so ludicrously impossible to anyone but God."

Amen!