40th Wedding Anniversary

It's June and our 40th wedding anniversary was in January. After coming home, I got sick.  I think I caught something on the airplane.  It was a bad infection and then I had a relapse.  I was eventually diagnosed with COPD, stage 3.  I've been trying medications and  I think we've finally found some that are working.  I use 2 inhalers a day and I have an emergency inhaler when needed.  It's been a long 6 months but I am finally starting to feel better.  2 people told me I am looking like my old self this week.  That's a good sign!

In the midst of dealing with that, I wasn't able to really savor our anniversary trip.  So, here's a good place to share it.

Kevin and I wanted to do something really special for our 40th anniversary.  We wanted to really celebrate because we survived and thrived 40 years together.

Our dream vacation would be a quiet beach, lots of snorkeling, a nice place to stay and no crowds.  Looking for a tropical place to fit those dreams took some looking.  But we found it, the perfect place for us....  Anegada, British Virgin Islands.  It was so remote that it was going to take 2 days to get there!  We found a great place to stay, The Big Bamboo on Loblolly Bay.

We flew into St. Thomas, took a taxi to the docks, took a ferry to the island of Tortola. We stayed in Road Town at a nice hotel.  Then the next morning at 6am, we took another ferry to Anagada.  We rented a car and drove to our rental.  It was a lovely, lovely round house.  1 bedroom, living room, dining area, kitchen, just lovely.  There was a restaurant right there.  In Anegada, you had to call the restaurant by 2pm to order your dinner.  It was delightful.

This is the view from our living room:

It was beautiful.  Literally steps away from the beautiful white beach.  We snorkeled every day, walked the beaches every day, explored the island, enjoyed the wonderful breeze that blew every day.

On our actual anniversary, we took a special boat tour.  It was breathtaking.  We snorkled a gorgeous reef and got to see Conch Island:

It was the perfect way to spend our 40th anniversary.

It was a vacation we will always remember.  

If we never go back again, this place will always be in my memories.  All I have to do is close my eyes and I can see it all again.

The People and the Stories Make the Vacation

We decided to visit Taos for our vacation this year.  We anticipated a relaxing time.  What we didn't anticipate was our encounter with some wonderful people with fascinating stories.

We rented a lovely cabin restored from the 1850's that is owned by a delightful couple, Jerry and Marilyn.  Jerry is a well known and amazingly talented artist.  This couple was so welcoming that we felt at home right away.  They recommended places to eat and chatted warmly.  During the week, we had the chance to visit often.  Jerry invited us to his studio.  His work in the studio was beautiful.  He had some pieces that were dedicated to Vietnam vets that literally had me in tears.

And the stories we got to hear!  Jerry does a lot of Native American themed paintings and told us stories of living with a family who lived in
Taos Pueblo who adopted him into the tribe.  His paintings were throughout the cabin and were just incredible to look at.

Then Kevin and I took a glass class together.  The teacher, Delinda, was a delight.  She was knowledgeable and encouraging and fun to talk with.  And her story was so amazing to hear.  Delinda was a professional dancer who toured and danced with Gene Kelly, Bing Crosby, Willie Nelson and others! She was in a bad accident and had to give up dancing.  So she became an artist.  And then she began to train dogs for search and rescue.

And then she introduced us to her 'other half'.  He just happens to be a world renown knife designer.  Kevin felt like he was in the presence of a celebrity!  He was just thrilled to meet this man.

We met another character at the Rio Grande Gorge Bridge.  He was a travelling vendor who had built his camper in three weeks with wood and a skill saw.  He did leather work, was a musician and songwriter and a general all around character.  But he was a hoot to listen to!

We saw some beautiful sights in and around Taos.  It was a very relaxing vacation.  But our memories will be filled with the people we met and the stories they told.  

This is not the woman who raised me

Bill Cosby does a great bit about his mother being so different as a grandmother than she was as a mother.  I used to laugh at that until I became a grandmother.  Now I smile and knowingly nod my head in agreement.

I am sure my kids will have more observations, but here are some places where I see that I've changed over the years.

I don't have to raise my grandkids so I am able to simply enjoy and love them.  There is a lot of responsibility to raising children.  Everything is a chance to teach them something and mold their character.  Consistency is difficult and can wear you out and wear you down.  I don't have to shoulder that anymore.  Instead, I can simply listen as they talk to me.  I can enjoy them freely.

I have more time.  I'm not trying to juggle work, church, kid activities, church activities, family time, menus, house cleaning, etc, etc, etc....  I look back and don't know how I ever managed to fit it all in.  Did I ever stop?  It's pretty amazing how much time one gains when there are no children at home.  And that's a good thing because I just don't have the energy to keep up with it anymore.

Things are quieter around here.  We were an active family, actually pretty loud.  Someone was coming or going, friends filled the house, there was constant activity.  It wears me out just remembering!  It's still pretty crazy when all the grandkids are here, but for the most part, it's pretty quiet these days.  I find that I can't focus on as many things at once.  Somehow I used to keep up with multiple conversations and still knew where everyone was, what they had going on and where they needed to be.  Now I have to ask for reminders because I can't keep up with all those details at the same time anymore.

I savor things more.  I no longer feel the need to rush from one thing to another.  I no longer feel that my life is lived in a daily frenzy.  I can listen to the grandkids.  I don't have to plan something to do all the time.  I can take the time to explore the world with the grandkids because I don't have to constantly be doing something or going somewhere.

I don't raise my voice anymore.  Yeah, I confess, I could yell.  Not always, but I did yell.  I don't yell anymore.  I'd like to think it's because I'm so much more patient.  But the truth is that the amount of frenzy I felt was in direct proportion to my yelling.

I'm not afraid.  I was afraid I wasn't a good enough mother or wife or employee, etc, etc..  I was afraid I would miss something important to my kids.  I was afraid I would fail at anything I attempted.  I would go to bed afraid I'd forgotten something or would forget something.  I think the years have proved those fears were unfounded and wasted a lot of time and energy.  Fear doesn't rule me anymore.

I don't worry.  Worry and fear tend to go hand in hand.  I worried over a lot of things I had no control over.  Would my kids find good friends?  Would they be a good friend?  Would they get hurt?  Would they be exposed to something harmful?  Would they make good choices?  Finally, I've figured out that life is going to happen regardless of how much I worry.  Good things will come my way and so will bad things and so will sad things.  It's all part of life.  Worrying did nothing but suck joy out of my life.

I no longer feel my children are a reflection of me.  I confess that I tied my kids' actions way too closely to me.  Bad choices made me worry what folks thought of me.  Good choices made me want to take the credit.  Finally realizing that my kids and grandkids are all individuals and I get to be their cheerleader and supporter has brought a lot of emotional freedom.

Getting older definitely has its benefits.   I am not the woman I was but I prefer the woman I've become.

When I worked with junior high kids, we had an annual event called "Hello/Goodbye".  At that event, we said goodbye to the kids who were moving up to the senior high group and hello to the kids who were joining the junior high group.

It was a bittersweet event.  We had the chance to remember the fun times we all had together and remind the teens leaving that we'd always love them.  And then we had the chance to welcome the teens joining the group and let them know we were looking forward to new memories and getting to know them.

Hello/Goodbye always brought tears of sadness and joy mingled together.

I realize as I begin qualifying for senior discounts, that I find myself having a number of my own hellos and goodbyes.

Goodbye to the days when my body rarely ached and it would do whatever I wanted it to do.  Hello to the days when my body always aches and can't do what I want it to do.

Goodbye to some of my favorite childhood hangouts.  Hello to savoring them in my memory.

Goodbye to the days that I was so busy that the days ran together and I was always tired.  Hello to being able to read a book or sit on my porch and enjoy my swing.

Goodbye to raising children.  Hello to simply loving grandchildren.

Goodbye to the guilt of feeling like I would never be a good enough mother.  Hello to telephone calls from my children asking for parenting advice.

Goodbye to the thrill and excitement of being a newlywed.  Hello to the warm feeling that I've been married 2/3 of my life.

Goodbye to days of counting every penny.  Hello to senior discounts.

Goodbye to PMS.  Hello to menopause.

Goodbyes are always bittersweet.  It's hard to let go of the familiar, especially when the familiar gets sweeter as time passes.

Hellos are always a bit scary.  Can anything really take the place of the memories you savor?

No, nothing can take the place of what is gone.  But there is always room in our hearts and lives for someone new to love and something new to discover.  I have to be willing to make that room and not let my memories crowd out new experiences and friends.

Anyone else find yourself saying goodbye and hello?

2014 - here I come!

2014 - wow, I am living in 2014!  That may seem like an odd comment unless you were born in the mid 1950's.  It was the beginning of space travel and we grew up watching space travel grow until we watched men walk on the moon!  That was big stuff back then.  As people looked toward the far away year 2000, the amazing possibilities were just waiting for us.  And now, in 2014, I am still pretty much in awe at life around me.

I watch my grandchildren handle any kind of electronic as though it was second nature to them and I am amazed.  I see my grandkids use an iPad as their only school necessity.  It's phenomenal to watch these students study and interact and discover on their own.

And yet, here I am, living in 2014.  I had decided that I want 2014 to be the year outside my comfort zone.  I want to set goals that will keep me from becoming complacent and apathetic.

I almost hesitate to mention this here because I feel vulnerable.  But if I'm going outside my comfort zone, I need to do this.

I have lost 35 lbs in the last few months.  And I ran my first 5K.  I still have a long way to go to reach my weight goal but I'm going to do it slowly so it won't come back on.

I survived the 5K, thanks to my daughter  and best friend who ran, walked and sashayed with me.  I finished and wasn't last!  That's a winner for me!

So, my goal for 2014 is to reach my weight goal by the end of the year.  I am signing up for a 5K in March. (back to my C25K again).  And I am determined to go on my first international mission trip with our church in June.

These things are WAY outside my comfort zone.  But I am going to work toward truly reaching these goals.  Along the way, side effects will produce a better me, physically, emotionally and spiritually.  

Please notice I am not looking for more patience!  I know better than to ask God for that!!  

These are really big steps for me.  But I am going to go outside my comfort zone and work toward them, one step at a time, one pound at a time, one prayer at a time.

I'm taking a deep breath and I am ready to go!

Things I'm loving about my mid-50's

Having been part of the generation that was taught, "don't trust anyone over 30", the whole idea of aging has not been positive.  However, as I get older, I am finding there are more positive aspects than I ever imagined.

Here are some I am loving about my 50's:

1) I am no longer affected by peer pressure.  Wow, I never really expected that to go away.  I thought I would always feel pressure to fit in with my peers, but no longer!  I don't have to wear the latest fashions or make up or shoe styles.  I don't feel an urge to compete with those around me anymore.

2) I am pretty much invisible.  This is a good thing!  I don't get singled out by police or at the airport.

3) People are polite to me.  Folks open doors, carry packages and are always offering to help.  I guess I don't look like I can do it myself anymore, but that's okay, I like it.

4) I am not spending all my energy looking to the future. I no longer tell myself, 'when this happens, I can slow down'.  I have finally slowed down. And I like it right here in the present.

5) I have reached the age where I can suddenly remember incredible details about the past.  I can close my eyes and be transported to any age I choose. Never mind that I can't remember where my keys are or what day of the week it is, but I do remember all my teachers from elementary school.

6)  I get to be a grandparent.  The most wonderful thing happens when you become a grandparent - you suddenly become cool again!  And even better than  that, you don't have to raise your grandchild, you merely have to love them. There is a sweetness to that truth that is like honey to my heart.

7) I don't feel the need to have things anymore.  I find myself giving away or cutting back on things in general. More stuff or bigger houses just don't interest me anymore.  I didn't realize what a burden that was until it lifted.

8) I no longer have to parent my children. My daughters will always be my children but I no longer have to raise them.  I have no more desire to give my opinion unless they ask. Another weight is gone that I hadn't realized weighed so much.

In my 50's I want to just enjoy life, savor my friends and family and appreciate the world around me.  Life has become much sweeter than I imagined it would be at this age.  For that, I am grateful.

The times, they are a'changin

Lately, I’ve been reading a lot about the large percentage of teens raised in the church who leave after high school and don’t return.  This study has some churches shocked and some churches scrambling to do something and some churches unfazed and unchanged.

(disclaimer: this is all my opinion.  I claim to be a person who has been part of changes and a person who has watched changes.  I do not claim to be an expert in anything)

Too often, we look at changes happening in the church culture and we panic.  We tend to think that, if God is unchanging, then the church should be unchanging too.  We tend to forget that the ‘normal’ church today is nothing like the church in generations past.  Those of us who don’t want church to change now have forgotten that church is the way it is now because we wanted change.

In my own experience, I can only go back about 50 years, but it’s enough to see a pattern.  When I was a child, I had to sit with my parents in church.  No kids’ church for me.  It was b-o-r-i-n-g.  The only thing I learned was when to be quiet and how far away from my parents I could get without getting flicked or pinched or threatened. 

Then someone started making kids' church so it would be on their level and they could understand better.  Over the years it has evolved so that kids don't see the inside of 'big church' until they are in their late teens.  And now, guess what?  It's b-o-r-i-n-g!

When I was in my early teens, people started to be concerned because young people were leaving the church in droves and not looking back.  Some folks took it upon themselves to meet the teens where they were and show them that Jesus was about relationships, not a place and not just acceptable behavior inside a certain building.

My generation rocked the church.  We wore jeans to church!  (the gasps from the ‘0lder generation’ sucked most of the oxygen from the building)  We talked about what it meant to live for Jesus in ‘rap sessions’ where someone would often play a guitar and we didn’t sing hymns. 

Our generation wanted to be radical for Jesus.  We knew we wanted Jesus and we knew we didn’t want the church we grew up in.  Being young with little direction proved to be like giving a loaded gun to monkeys!

However, the established church finally realized that things needed to change in order to keep the next generation from walking away from church and their faith.

It’s not a new problem.  It seems to surface 40 to 50 years.  So, what do we do?  I can say from experience that trying to convince a generation of teens that hymn books and wearing suits was the only way to worship didn’t work.

The people who loved the generation the way they were and poured the love of Jesus into them is what made the difference.  I believe, if you look at the generation who is choosing to stay in church, you will find they are connected to other people who love them.

Relationships and the unconditional love of Jesus will make the difference.  We want to throw money and programs at them because relationships are so much more costly.  We want to complain and bemoan this new generation when we forget that we were right there ourselves a few decades ago.

If we want the younger generation to see Jesus, they will need to see Him in us.  If those of us from the last generation who saw big changes in the church are honest, that’s all we were really looking for too – Jesus.  It’s going to cost us time and more time.  Are we willing to pay that price?

Have You Considered This at Christmas?

     Whenever I get my Christmas ornaments out, I don’t just see a pretty decoration. I see something with a special story behind it. On my tree you may see a white Styrofoam ball with a green glitter tree and the name Ruth in red glitter with a pipe cleaner to hold the hook. However, when I see that, I see a little 7 year old girl, sitting at her desk in an old fashioned schoolroom, trying to make the Elmer’s glue come out just right. When I see the ornaments that look like badly crafted stained glass, I see the first year we had all 3 girls and no money and not enough ornaments for the tree. I still see their faces as we put lots of colorful, though not that pretty, ornaments on the tree.

     So come with me to see something more behind the manger scene that we take out at Christmas…..

     To start with, I want to give you all a few reminders. Jesus was crucified in Jerusalem . John the Baptist proclaimed in John 1:29, “Behold, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world.” Peter talked about our redemption in 1 Peter 1:19 as the “Precious blood of Christ, as of a lamb without blemish and without spot.”

     In the Old Testament, the lamb was sacrificed for the forgiveness of sin. It had to be a lamb without blemish or spot – it couldn’t be scarred or cut or bruised. Jesus died in Jerusalem , where the temple was and where the lambs were sacrificed.

The story of Christmas has Christ born in a manger as the Lamb of God, to be the Saviour of the world and to take away the sins of the world. This would involve sacrifice. Bethlehem cannot be understood without Calvary . The manger must be seen in the light of the Cross. Birth would also involve death.

     We all know the Christmas story from Luke:

And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. And, lo, the angel of the Lordcame upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid. And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord. And this shall be a sign to you; You shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger. And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying, Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men. And it came to pass, as the angels were gone away from them into heaven, the shepherds said one to another, Let us now go see this thing which is come to pass, which the Lord has made known to us. And they came with haste, and found Mary, and Joseph, and the babe lying in a manger. And when they had seen it, they made known abroad the saying which was told them concerning this child. And all they that heard it wondered at those things which were told them by the shepherds. But Mary kept all these things, and pondered them in her heart. And the shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all the things that they had heard and seen, as it was told to them. (Luke 2:8-20)

     Have you ever wondered who these shepherds were? Has anyone ever wondered why the angels didn’t give them any more details of where to look? No street sign, no neon light, no flag…

     The Christmas story takes on added meaning when we consider that, according to multiple writings of rabbis, the shepherds who were abiding by their flocks in the fields were perhaps watching over temple sheep, sheep that were being bred and protected to be sacrificed at the temple in Jerusalem. These shepherds may have been men who were accustomed to preparing lambs which symbolically represented the Messiah in their cleanliness, perfection, and their sacrifice on the altar of the temple. This gives added depth of meaning to these scriptures which tell of the angels who came to these shepherds to proclaim the birth of the Lamb of God, the Savior of mankind, who would offer the last and ultimate sacrifice.

     With the establishment of Temple worship in Jerusalem , the fields outside of Bethlehem became the place where this special group of shepherds raised the lambs that were sacrificed in the Temple . The place where the angels appeared to the shepherds is traditionally known as the “Tower of the Flock,” or Migdal Edar, which is very near Bethlehem . This watch tower from ancient times was used by the shepherds for protection from their enemies and wild beasts. It was the place ewes were brought to give birth to the lambs. In this sheltered building/cave the priests would bring in the ewes which were about to lamb for protection. The shepherds who kept them were men who were specifically trained for this royal task. Being themselves under special Rabbinical care, they would strictly maintain a ceremonially clean stable for a birthing place.   It could have been to this place that Joseph took Mary. It could have been in this special stable at “Migdal Eder” that Christ was born!

     These shepherds were educated in what an animal that was to be sacrificed had to be and it was their job to make sure that none of the animals were hurt, damaged, or blemished. The shepherds would wrap the newborn lambs in swaddling clothes to protect the body of the lambs, keeping the new lambs without spot or bruise, they would then be laid in a manger until they had calmed down.

    These lambs would be offered as sacrifice at the Temple just four miles away in Jerusalem.

     There was no need for the angels to give these shepherds directions to the birth place because they already knew. These were the men who raised sacrificial lambs that were sacrificed in the Temple . When the angelic announcement came, they knew exactly where to go, for the sign of a manger and swaddling coths could only mean THEIR manger at the tower of the flock!

     The Lamb born at Migdal Eder was the Lamb to be sacrificed to take away the sin of the world.

     You see our Lord Jesus was born in Bethlehem where all sacrificial lambs were born, and our Lord Jesus died in Jerusalem where all sacrificial lambs were killed.

    So when you look at a nativity set this year, and you see the shepherds and Mary and Joseph and then you see the baby wrapped in swaddling cothes lying in a manger, I hope you’ll think of the story behind it. And I hope Christmas will touch you a little deeper this year.

(This is a compliation of the following sites:http://www.mayimhayim.org/Rabbi%20Mike/Migdal%20Eder.htm,

http://www.cbn.com/special/thenativitymovie/articles/whybethlehem.aspx, http://www.bible-truth.org/BirthPlaceofJesus.html, http://www.templestudy.com/2009/12/18/shepherds-christmas-story/)

)

We Gain Some, We lose Some and life goes on.

I've been pondering some wise words from a friend.  I think I will ponder them better here.

Here are her wise words:  Growing older is a series of losses.

Let's back up a little here.  When we start out in life, we're like a blank chalkboard.  We have everything to gain in front of us.  We gain language, mobility, we gain people who love us, we gain laughter and joy.  We gain friends, experiences that will begin to shape who we are becoming.  We begin to gain interaction, and education.  We being to gain friends and relationships.

At the first part of our life, everything is new and fresh and exciting.  Each stage brings something new and exciting.  As we get older the next stages bring the excitement of adulthood.  We experience college, future spouses, marriages, careers, children, homes, etc, etc as we enter real adulthood.

The next stage are our peak years.  We have the most energy to accomplish the most things and we can juggle more things in our lives that we ever thought possible.   It's exhilarating for a long time.  It's like making to the top of the mountain after a long, hard climb.  It feels good.  We feel proud, fulfilled, content.

The kids are out on their own and we feel like we can finally breathe.  And then, after a half a lifetime of gains, we begin to see some losses.  It feels as though our bodies' warranties ran out when we hit 50.  

You know those body organs you can life without?  Mine lost their warranties and had to be discarded.. So I lost my...appendix...tonsils....gall bladder....female parts.... I don't feel as strong as I used to feel. 

I'm losing my quick memory.  Words and names don't come as quickly as they used to.  It frustrates me because I never had to struggle before with those things.  I have to ask for help to remember something.  It's humbling because I had been competently independent for many years.

I can't remember our conversation last night, but I can pull stories out of my brain from my childhood so easily.  The grandkids are asking for stories and I can do that with so much clarity that it's a little disconcerting.

I'm having to learn to adapt to some losses.  My eyesight has taken a bad turn and I am having to relearn a new normal in my vision.  For the first time in over 30 years, I am scared driving at night because of the loss of vision.  I'm not in control and can't fix it and losing feelings of confidence is another loss.

I think I can handle some of these losses when they feel within my control.  But I am learning that these losses are now involving losing friends.   In the last couple years, I have lost more family and friends than ever before in my life.  When I was younger, it was almost always someone older who died.  Now those 'someone older' deaths are my friends, my peers (I'm a someone older now too)  I think I'd always hoped we'd just grow up, enjoy life and start dying off later, much later.  And it would be
 nice if it was pretty much close together, like at the same time. (just an idea)  I desperately miss my friends who have died.  I don't think I will ever get used to this.

However, losses don't follow a schedule.  We lose a loved one and at our age, it's inevitable that we'll lose another loved one....repeat way too often from now on.

Losses come in other forms.  Job layoff is a big loss when it changes your whole lifestyle.  When this happened to us, we realized that we'd also lost that sense of adventure that would've had us moving at the drop of a hat and starting a new life over.  But we've lost that.  Our roots are here and we choose instead to readjust our lives here.  

We've lost dreams that we always thought would happen one day.  Trips to visit people who have now died have had to be set aside and given some time to grieve that loss.

It's difficult to shift thinking from embracing all life has to offer and then realizing that things are changing and you're not in control of those changes.

I know that I have the choice how to respond.  I wasn't expecting the losses and changes throw me into emotional chaos so that I don't know how to repsond.

On this 'losing' side of the journey, I am in the midst of learning how to respond.  How to keep peace and hope at the forefront.  I'm learning to look for things to make me happy regardless what is consuming me emotionally.

I'm trying to accept my new normal instead of wishing I was somewhere else from 20 years ago.  I don't know how I will do or what's going to happen.

I'm clinging to God every step of the way.  And I'm looking for the person in charge of putting out signs along the way....."Changes ahead!"....."Bladder control does not work on this side of the journey"...."Yield to aches and pains"...

I think the ageless Cat In The Hat has a poem that says it well:

What are the odds.....putting a new face on fear

I am tired of being swayed by fear. I hesitate to do things because of fear.  It's as though fear has become a habit that happens first when life is played out.  I want to put a new face on my fears.

Before I can do that, I have to put my fears in perspective.

For example, the odds of having my identity stolen are 200 to 1.  That means that I have 1 chance in 200 of someone stealing my identity.  Somehow, I have come to see most statistics from the perspective of the biggest fear.  I tend to think, 'oh no, I have a 200 to 1 chance of this, how horrible' instead of realizing that 1 out of 200 really isn't that big a risk.

Did you know that the odds of striking it rich on Antiques Roadshow are 60,000 to 1?  I actually have a better chance at bowling a 300 game because those odds are only 11,500 to 1.

My chances of getting the flu this year are 1 in 10.  But that also means my chances of NOT getting the flu are 9 in 10.

My chances of finding out my child is a genius are 1 out of 250.  (oops, wait, I beat those odds 3 times....nevermind..)  ;^)

My chance of dying from a shark attack is 1 out of 300,000,000!  However, if you've ever seen Jaws, chances are good that you wonder if it's really safe to swim in the ocean.

I understand that I need to be careful even if the odds are in my favor.  It's not caution that I struggle with, it's fear.  I let the fear of what could happen strangle the joy of the moment.

I'd like to find something to blame that mindset on, like advertising or the media.  But I think it's actually more simple than that.  I think it's human nature.  I think we naturally tend to fear because we can't control.  I think human nature makes us think that we will be that 1 out of 10 or that 1 out of 300,000,000.

So, am I doomed to let fear be my driving force?  Thankfully, no.

I don't think it's a coincidence that the Bible uses the phrase "do not fear" a lot!  If I truly believe there is a God (and I do) and I truly believe He loves me (and I do), then it's up to me to make the choice to not let fear be a driving force.

I can't control the circumstances but I can control how I respond.  I can't control the chances, but I can control my perspective.

So, instead of being afraid of my nightgown catching fire and burning me to death, I will instead be glad that I have a greater risk of being eaten by a California mountain lion.

And then God showed up...

It's been a long couple of years for Kevin and me.  We're still grieving over big losses from last year.  One of the adjustments we're having to make is regarding insurance.  Kevin's new job offers insurance to him but the cost of adding me is pretty astronomical.  

We sat down and looked at the whole picture and came to the conclusion that we will go without insurance and pay as we go.  I figured I've had most nonessential stuff already removed so we'll be good to go for a while.  yeah, right...  Last week, I realized that I have developed a blind spot in my center of vision.   When I look at someone's face with my right eye, the person has no nose and a unibrow!  It's scary to have your vision change so drastically like that.

My regular optometrist referred me to an opthamologist here in town.

I called......and then God showed up.....

The woman who answered the phone was so kind and gracious.  She put me at ease and set me up for an appointment that very day.   

...and then God showed up....

I got to the office and found that the kind woman who scheduled me also knew me!  She went that extra mile to make me feel comfortable.  The staff was kind and peaceful and so reassuring.

...and then God showed up....

The doctor introduced himself and I realized that his daughter was in our youth group last year!  I think a lot of her and enjoyed her and it was a nice connection to make.  The appointment showed that there was something there that a specialist needs to look at.

...and then God showed up....

The staff was so gracious.  Because we don't have insurance, we pay up front, in full.  I was given a discount for that and then another designated discount.  Then they called the specialist for me and got me in a day later.

The specialist was very nice also.  He checked and did another test and then spent some time talking with me.  The short version is that I have a hole forming at the back of my eye that creates a blind spot.  There is a chance it could go away, there is a chance it could get worse, there's a chance it will simply stay the same for a long time.  I will have to give up close work, like cross stitching and I will need to make my fonts larger, but we'll wait to see if things change before making any decision.

....and then God showed up....

I went to check out and I was told that there was no charge!  No charge for the testing, no charge for the eye dilation, no charge for the office visit with the doctor!  They gave me no reason, just sweet smiles.

....God knew how scared I was.  God knew how emotionally tired I was.  God knew I was so afraid of the costs.  God knew Kevin was worried about it all too.  And so God showed up to remind me that He already knows, He's gone before me, nothing surprises Him and He will encourage me when I look for him.

Today was a sweet day when God showed up.

Your name is engraved....

I have this really cool bracelet that I wear all the time.  And I mean all the time, 24/7.  I never take it off because I love it so much.  I had this bracelet made for me.  It's a simple silver link bracelet.  Each bar has the name of one of my grandchildren.  Added to the bracelet is a little gold square with a diamond inside.  That diamond is my original engagement diamond that Kevin gave me 37 years ago.  My original wedding set broke about 25 years ago but I cherish that diamond.  Each link is soldered together so that it's almost impossible to remove.

Whenever I feel the bracelet on my wrist, I think of my grandchildren.  Whenever I glance at my wrist, I am reminded of my grandchildren.  Whenever the light catches my diamond, I think of Kevin and our family.  It is my way of keeping my family close to my heart.

Grandson Ben is almost 3.  He loves my bracelet.  He loves to pretend to read the names. He knows where his name is located on the bracelet and he is always thrilled to see that his name is there whenever he looks for it.  He knows that his name is there because I love him and he never tires of hearing that.

I try to remember this on the days I wonder where God is.  Or the times that I think He's forgotten me.  Or when I am walking through a rough season in my life.  Or when a friend is hurting and I can't do anything to alleviate their pain.

Isaiah 49:16 says, "See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands"

I need to take a lesson from Ben.  He looks for his name on my bracelet and knows that I love him.  And each time he sees his name, he is thrilled.

I need to remember that God has engraved me on the palms of His hands.  I need to take the time to look when I wonder where God is and remember that He loves me.  My name isn't going anywhere.  It's there and I never tire of hearing that.

Guilt Givers/Guilt Takers

I think we can narrow down all people to 'guilt givers' and 'guilt takers'. Our perspective of life in general is skewed by whether we are prone to give or take guilt.

I confess that I am a Guilt Taker. I've spent most of my life feeling something is my fault. It doesn't matter whether it's true or not, I will feel guilty. And from there, I can be manipulated by a Guilt Giver.

Guilt Givers have a difficult time apologizing but Guilt Takers apologize so much that it can drive people crazy. Somehow we manage to attract each other. I married a Guilt Giver. If the two become one, then we've done a good job of balancing each other. I can remind Kevin when he needs to apologize for something and he can remind me when I don't need to apologize for something.

We guilt takers know who we are. We're the ones those ads are geared toward. You know the ones, starving children, hurting animals, adopt a penguin.... anything with stirring music and someone who tells you that you could make a difference. Who thinks these up? The guilt givers! They know that we guilt takers are out there, just ready for one well aimed guilt attack to make us whip out our checkbooks to assuage our guilt. A guilt taker and a checkbook means that someone won and it wasn't the guilt taker.

Guilt givers don't see the problem. They simply tell us guilt takers not to take the guilt. It's so simple to a guilt giver. But to guilt takers, it's almost impossible.

Some days I feel as thought everywhere I turn, I am hit by guilt. I am so sorry for the animals at the humane society. I am so sorry that there are so many animals that need to be adopted. I feel guilty that I don't want anymore pets. I take good care of my pets and I have had them spayed and neutered and yet I still feel guilty. Because I have anything to feel guilty about? No, because I am a guilt taker!

I don't think I know how to feel badly about something without mixing it with guilt. A guilt giver would tell me that I'm being narcissistic. A guilt taker will understand.

Maybe we need to hit people harder these days with guilt because we've become de-sensitized to pain around us. Or maybe general selfishness keeps us from seeing needs and then trying to help. Some people need to be jolted into action and guilt can be that jolt.

I totally understand freedom in Christ and no longer carrying the guilt of sin. This is separate from that. This is just me recognizing how I can be manipulated and trying to keep a healthy distance from unhealthy guilt.

Anyone else a Guilt Giver or a Guilt Taker? Maybe I should just feel guilty for bringing the subject up.....

I'm not making this up!

I love work weekends with junior high kids because they always promise to be full of great stories to tell later. I also love Pine Cove Camp because it gives us the opportunity to get away with our teens, give them a chance to serve and a chance for all of us to enjoy being together for the weekend.

I've been taking jr hi kids to their Towers camp for many, many years. I can find my way there in the dark. However, I only know how to get there, I don't know what roads I take to do that. That probably explains why there were no cars following me by the time I turned onto that dark county road. Towers is in the woods that are really, really dark at night.

I had a van full of girls and we went straight to the staff cabin. Our stuff was in the other cars who were finding their way to the camp after getting real directions. So the girls and I went into the cabin to check out where we'd be staying. While we were waiting for the other cars, it started to rain. No, that's not right. It started to pour. No, that's not right. It started to come down in buckets! Because of the drought here in Texas, the water soaks quickly into the ground.

I got a call from, Jake, the guy in charge of the weekend. Jake said we needed to meet him at the kitchen and the other cars were driving straight there. Because of the deluge, I told the girls that I would drive us over to the kitchen so we wouldn't get soaked going to the kitchen. We all ran to the van and piled in.

The van was parked in the opposite direction of the kitchen. No problem. I just had to make a wider turn on the road. No problem. I've been on these road for years. There was just sand and pine needles alongside the pavement.

Well, except for the rain that made the sand really soft and the fact that there was a stump alongside the pavement. The stump was covered by the pine needles and I never saw it. I would have never even noticed it, except for that thump followed by the spinning of wheels.

No problem. I would just put the van in reverse. No problem. Except that the van wasn't going anywhere. I pressed the gas and a notice starting flashing on the dashboard, "Tires Spinning"! Even the van realized it was stuck. So all the junior high girls piled out of the van in the rain and started pushing. First they pushed from the front while I put the van in reverse. Then they pushed from the back while I put the car in drive. No doubt about it, the van was stuck and we were wet. So we all walked over the the kitchen and were very thankful that the rain had slowed to a simple downpour. I told Jake about my stuck van and he told me the maintenance guys could rescue me the next day.

The weekend was a great weekend, as usual. The kids worked hard and played hard as the weather permitted. The next afternoon Jake and the maintenance guy showed up in the really big pickup to pull the van off the stump. It was nerve racking for me as they attached the chain to the van. (Did I mention that I was borrowing this van from Jaime and Slade?) In my mind, I was imagining how to nicely explain that the fender fell off while pulling the van off a stump. I didn't have to worry about that scenario because the van didn't go anywhere. This really big pickup just spun its wheels while trying to pull the van off that stump. It turned out that the van's frame was on the stump and the soft, wet sand had given way enough that it was hung up on the stump and wasn't going anywhere.

The next day the rain eased to a wet drizzle. The maintenance guy and Jake returned to the van to try to finally free it. They came well equipped with jacks and a secret weapon. You will know that I live deep in Redneck territory when you read this. I love Redneck ingenuity!

First, they guys used the jacks on each side of the van and raised the van out of all that soft sand. Then, and I'm not making this up, they got out their secret weapson. They brought out a chainsaw and in true Texas fashion, they went to work sawing that stump! Redneck ingenuity at its finest - lower the stump so the wheels and frame can clear it! And it worked!

Great weekend, great people, great stories. This will always be remembered as the time the chainsaw rescued the van.

You have no idea.....

As I look back on my life, I realize more and more that I had no idea what was going to happen whenever I made a major decision in my life. My first real major decision was where I was going to college. I had no idea when I choose Central College in Pella, IA, that I would make lifelong friends who would become chosen family.

Kevin and I decided to get married and I had no idea how we were going to manage, a very young couple, no experience in living on our own, managing a budget. I had no idea how to shop, plan menus, even use a checkbook.

When Kevin and I decided to have a baby, I had no idea what labor would be like. Then I had no idea what birth would be like. Then I had no idea how to take care of a baby.

It all sounded so easy and it all seemed like it was something we could do without much trouble.

It was a theme of our life. We had no idea how to raise 3 daughters, no idea how we'd pay for braces, clothes, car insurance, lessons, etc, etc, etc.

I think if I'd been able to see ahead, it may have scared me too much to even attempt those things. If I'd seen ahead, I don't think I would have been brave enough to have 3 children so close in age. I would have been terrified to try to provide for them, it would have seen too daunting.

There is a lot of comfort that God is outside of time. He knows what's coming and even knows the end of the story. Knowing that helps me keep putting one foot in front of the other, even when I can't see around the next bend.

As I look back on last year, I'm glad that I had no idea what was ahead. Even though that year is now behind me, I'm still feeling as though I can only take one step at a time without becoming afraid.

There's a reason that we have no idea what lies ahead for each of us. It would scare us off and keep us from becoming who we're supposed to be. The best growth comes during the hardest times. That sounds so good but the truth is that I doubt I'd be willing to volunteer for the hardest times. I can only get through those times when I only see far enough along the path for the next step. Not for the next mile, or yards, just enough for the next step.

Taking the journey step by step keeps me close to the source of my light. And the things I don't see keep me from being too scared to keep walking.

Many times I've heard the comments, "You have no idea what it's like to raise kids....You have no idea how much your kids will break your heart.....You have no idea how difficult it is to truly let go of your kids.....You have no idea how hard it is to face that empty nest....." etc, etc. At the time, they were right, I truly had no idea what the journey would be like.

I will face these fears of the unknown until my death. However, my Father will be a 'lamp to guide my feet and a light to my path'. He will give me as much light as I need to see what is coming. Not too much to scare and overwhelm me and not too little so that I become proud.

Tomorrow, I have no idea what's coming. But God is just ahead of me. And that's enough. With that in mind, I can enjoy the journey and savor all the good stuff instead of worrying about things I haven't even gotten to yet.

I'm so glad I have Someone who loves me, who knows what's coming so I don't have to dread and fret. Instead, I can enjoy the journey, one step at a time.

10 Presents I Won't Be Buying this Christmas...

Every once in a while, it's good to see the strange things for sale out there. It makes it easier to focus on the real reason for the season!

So, here's a list of 10 things I promise not to buy anyone this year!

1) Doggie Doo Game.

Really? The winner is the one with 3 piles of poop on their scoop. Why would you buy this? Why would you play?

2) Dysfunctional Family Bingo.

Even if you know (or if you are) the perfect family to give this to, I think you are taking your live in your hands to give this as a gift!

3) Beanie, beard and moustache. All in purple.

No matter how much I don't like you, I won't be putting this under your tree. However, I guess it could be used as camouflage in a concord grape orchard.

4) Tongue Tattoo

Even if you're sure this is the perfect gift, you won't be getting this from me!

5) Moose Poop Earrings

Is this a theme this year? Sometimes I have to listen to enough of this that I sure don't want the real thing near my ears!

6) Alfred Hitchcock's The Birds Barbie

I'm not making this up! I laughed at the movie but not at this doll. Nightmares not included. (I hear folks are flocking to buy it!)

7) Fish Flipflops

I don't hate anyone enough to give them fish flipflops. Well, maybe a scaled down version....

8)

Smoking Mittens

Who comes up with these things? Wouldn't gloves be a whole lot simpler?

9) Dog Poo Calendar

All I'm going to say is that there is a reason the year is 2009 on this calendar.

10) Aquarium Toilet

This is probably payback for anyone who's ever had a fish funeral. Or fish hell.

I'm so glad my Christmas is about Jesus, the real reason for the season.

Why do I find myself justifying higher standards?

Over the years, I have found myself having to justify having a higher standard. Sometimes it gets old and I'm going to rant a bit here. This way, if I get frustrated, I can read this out loud as often as I need.

The picture I chose is a great place to start. It says succinctly why we never told our kids that there was a Santa Claus, Easter Bunny or Tooth Fairy. We didn't want to lie to our kids. Why did I feel as though I had to constantly explain that? How couldn't other folks explain to me why it was okay to tell their kids these myths are real!

We had 3 daughters and set a high standard in modesty. I got tired of being questioned why we set a rule that our girls had to wear a one piece swimsuit. Maybe they could tell me why that was so odd but it was okay for their daughter to wear tiny bikinis? Why was that more normal?

We didn't let our girls date until they were 16. Boys had to spend lots of time with our family. Why did that need more explanation than the folks who allowed their 13 year old to date?

Our family didn't watch 'R' rated movies. In fact, we decided that, if the kids couldn't see it, we wouldn't either. Why was that stranger than than those allowing their child to watch very violent and sexually themed movies?

Our kids had to get jobs when they turned 16 and were expected to act as an adult by their senior year of high school. How is that more unusual than a 26 year old who still lives at home and can't do their own laundry?

I'm not pointing fingers at anyone in particular. My pondering and ranting started because someone questioned why I don't like Halloween and then thought I was odd because I choose not to celebrate the holiday nor use it as an evangelistic opportunity. Somehow that was less understandable than dressing up as a blood sucking killer and getting scared until you pee your pants.

I need to learn how to not feel like I have to justify my beliefs. Maybe that just comes with time. I don't worry as much as I used to about what others think of me. Maybe there's still hope for me.

With love to my middle daughter

I've gotten into a habit over the years of remembering the births of my babies on the evening before their birthdays. In the quiet house, after all the day's activities have settled, it's a sweet time to let my mind drift back to those births that I never want to forget.

Jaime Renee was my most difficult pregnancy. I was so sick the first trimester that I lost 10 lbs. Then, just as I was feeling better, we moved from SD to Tucson, AZ in the middle of the summer. There is so much to be said for youth and enthusiasm and it goes hand in hand with the words, 'blissful ignorance'. Our firstborn, Christy, was just 1 year old. We fit our worldly goods in one car with no air conditioning and towed a small trailer behind.

We found an apartment and settled in, except for that employment thing. Kevin had a horrible time finding a job. We were very close to the University of Arizona Medical Center. We qualified for very reasonable maternity care as long as we were willing to have residents as our doctors. I was just fine with that because I knew they would be more emotionally engaged because it's all new to them. And it was an adventure!

A few weeks after we moved into our new place, I started running a really high fever and started having contractions. The doctors decided to admit me because the high fever concerned them. It was the only time I'd ever been delirious with fever. And I was worried for the baby. And I was worried about leaving Christy with our new neighbors. We had no family around and were too new in a new city, new state, even new part of the country to know what to do or who to contact.

My high fever wouldn't break. The doctor decided it would be necessary to do an amniocentesis, a procedure to insert a long needle into the uterus to draw out some amniotic fluid. The fluid is then tested to see if there is something wrong with the baby. At that time, 32 years ago, it was a very new procedure. They had just developed sonograms and the screens reminded me of a fuzzy TV screen that lost its signal.

For the procedure, the huge sonogram was brought in. The head of the OB dept was there to oversee the residents. I had 4 resident doctors following my case at this point. Remember, it was only Kevin and me. Kevin was allowed to be by my head and he held my hand and comforted me. Standing over me was the doctor, unsheathing a very, very long needle. Kevin and I were really scared but we were strong until the doctor who was watching the sonogram stated, "A little more to the left, you don't want to hit the baby's head." That was too much for Kevin. He got really lightheaded and had to sit down. He kept thinking, 'That's MY baby's head!' I closed my eyes and prayed.

When they got the necessary fluid, the doctor held up the vial, shook it a little, said, "Cloudy...that's not good." and then left the room. The resident doctors stayed with us and explained that the fluid should tell them if the baby was causing the fever and if the baby was sick. They told us that healthy fluid should be clear. They left us with the comments that, should they have to take the baby then, the chances of a sick baby surviving that early were very slim. They told us we might consider names or no names, funeral or no funeral....things that had never crossed our young minds ever before.

So as we waited, Kevin and I clung to each other and talked to our baby. We truly were all we had. Our world had shrunk to the size of that hospital room. I'd been put in isolation in case I was contagious so it was lonely too. Time dragged by as we waited for the results and yet it flew by as we prayed that our baby would be spared.

The doctors returned with the news that the baby was safe. The fever was from my body, not my baby's body. There was also a warning given to us. The high, extended fever could have caused brain damage to the baby and we needed to be prepared for that possibility. Kevin and I just reeled with the emotions and information we were trying to process. But we clung to each other.

My fever finally broke after almost a week. I was finally was able to return to our apartment and to Christy. I still had the last trimester to go and was told to stay off my feet as much as possible. Christy was 1 year old. Well, we did the best we could. We found a church nearby and were warmly welcomed. Kevin finally found a job! But the job was 2 hours away, in Phoenix. The job started right away and I still had another month to go. Kevin could stay with his dad in Phoenix and look for an apartment for us. A wonderful family in the church came to us and offered for Christy and me to stay with them until the baby arrived. That was such a sweet example of being the hands and feet of Jesus. I was willing to stay alone but I didn't have to. This kind family welcomed us and gave us a real sense of security as we waited.

Did I mention we waited? For a baby who tried to join the world 3 months too early, when the time had come for her appearance, she refused to come. I had only gained 12 lbs the entire pregnancy (that included the 10 lbs I'd lost at first). I was going to the doctor's every day because I was classified as a high risk and they were very careful. At the doctor's office, these sweet resident docs would surprise me with something to eat, a burger, a milkshake, etc. They kept trying to get weight on me. I was so touched by their genuine care and concern.

I think the family I was staying with got more nervous each day I went past my due date. Kevin was 2 hours away but we were thankful he had a job. We could only talk every couple days because long distance was expensive. Christy was happy wherever she was and she charmed everyone. Then on Oct. 12, 1979, fourteen days after her original due date, labor began in earnest. I will always remember the ride to the hospital. It was about 5pm and we were fighting heavy rush hour traffic. We had no idea how long labor was going to take so this man and his wife rolled down their car windows and started yelling, "Mother in labor!! This lady's having a baby! Let us through!" And people responded! It took a lot of yelling and I would've laughed a lot harder if it didn't make me pee my pants!

We got to the hospital and I got settled into the labor room and waited for Kevin to come. I started praying he'd get there in time. No worries there, it was going to be a long labor. Back then was the age of natural childbirth so comfort was never an option. I walked as much as I could until Kevin arrived. Then he walked with me and I could look a bit more pathetic because I didn't have to be so strong. Finally I was put to bed and hooked up to monitors. That was when the trouble started.

Everytime I had a contraction, the baby's heart beat would drop, lower and lower. The doctors said the cord was probably around the baby's neck and was being squeezed during contractions. The baby was too far down in the birth canal to do a c-section. Then it was discovered that she was face up, not the correct position of face down. They couldn't turn her manually because of the cord being wrapped around the neck. So they put an oxygen mask on me and had me get on my hands and knees to relieve pressure on the cord.

At this point, the doctors told me I got to choose which doctor would deliver the baby. There were about a dozen folks in the room to observe the high risk birth. Any shred of modesty left when I was on my hands and knees with pains very close together and a gown that opened in the back. I can laugh about it now and it gets funnier the longer time elapses. At the time, I was trying to rip off the mask because I couldn't breathe and then the urge to push came over me like a large rolling wave. Then the doctors told me I couldn't push until the baby turned face down. I fought that urge to push as long as I could. I finally felt something and told the nurse to check me. She flippantly told me I didn't know what I was talking about. I grabbed her arm and told her SHE. NEEDED. TO. CHECK. ME. NOW. The nurse was surprised that the baby had turned!

At that point I yelled, "I'm pushing!" Then I picked out the delivering doctor and said, "The baby's coming!!" And boy, howdy, did that baby make a quick entrance from there!

The umbilical cord had been wrapped around the baby's neck 3 times! They carefully unlooped it and then they announced, "It's a GIRL!" Before we could hold her, the team of docs were swarmed around checking her out. We never knew exactly what they were looking for but as we waited, they got more and more excited. Those resident doctors brought our daughter back to us, handed her to us for the first time and then told us that she was perfectly healthy! Then they crowded around and asked us what we decided to name her.

We had decided on the name Jaime Renee. Jaime was for our friend Jim. Renee was the middle name of my best friend who had tragically died a year earlier. AND Jaime Renee in french means Love Reborn. We felt like we had a miracle baby in our arms. A little girl who almost arrived too early, who was thought to possibly have brain damage, but who instead, was nestled into her parents' arms. Each of the doctors touched her and said, "Hi, Jaime", or "Welcome to the world, Jaime". It was a sweet, sweet moment.

Jaime was ready to eat from the moment she came into the world. As she nursed, I examined her tiny hands and discovered she had a blister on her thumb, where she'd been sucking it so hard in the womb!

Kevin and I loved our new daughter and we clung to each other. Our friends brought in Christy to meet her new sister. Christy was 15 months old and was talking a bit. She came up with her own name for Jaime. She called her (sound it out) nnnnn...gong (and make your voice go up and down). Or just ask Christy now, I bet she'll be happy to tell you how she said Jaime's name!!

Oct. 12... 8:09pm.... 7lbs 4oz...19 1/2 inches long.... Welcome to the world, Jaime Renee.

Thanks to God for the honor of being chosen to be Jaime's parents. We have been so blessed.

Happy Birthday, Jaime! You are our Love Reborn!