Yikes! It Happened to Me!

I always thought those commercials were clever, not really thinking about the reality of it. You know the ones? Where the tough guy is talking about shopping for his party dress, complete with a female voice-over? Or the girl with the man's voice? They're talking about all the fun they've had at someone else's expense?

Well...you got it! It happened to me and all I could see was some guy with my voice (with a thick NY accent) talking about how he was enjoying his new computer or office equipment from Staples (or whatever they spent almost $800 on), all the latest cosmetics at Sophora's ($500 worth),his new Banana Republic wardrobe, the latest tunes from NY City's Music Land, and of course all this over dinner in China Town and goodies at lots of other places all over the "big Apple." All in all...this person enjoyed themselves (on us) over the course of a weekend to the tune of almost $3000. I don't think I have to tell you... that commercial is not so funny right now.

Who knows? maybe I'll pass it on when it becomes one of those "looked back on stories" and we learn something spiritual from it. As a matter of fact, maybe we are learning something... because right now...it's kind of creepy how it actually "feels" like somebody came in your house and went through your stuff. So, spiritual lesson #1...letting the "Jesus" in me pray for God's love, grace and mercy on this person when the "Melanie" in me would really rather not. :):)

Thanksgiving!

I have to apologize for being so bad at keeping up with posting recently. It's all I can do to keep up with life these days, but...I really am enjoying the experience...if only I live through it! :) Why? First of all, I guess I've realized now how "out of shape" this body really is when carrying food, water and coffee sends my legs and arms into strange aches, pains and muscle spasms they haven't felt before. It's like I've slammed myself into some sort of new vigorous exercise routine or something. And I'm sure glad "this" happened last night (because our Wed. performance was cancelled, and we're off for 4 days) so there is time for this black and blue "goose egg" on my forehead to fade away. What happened? Well, during one of the last scenes of the show, I am part of the "Trio of Songer something" who wind up taking 3rd prize in the Saltzburg Festival...last night I got a huge laugh when I stole the one bouquet of flowers they award us and fled the stage, bowing & courtseying (sp?). Maybe it was because they thought it was part of the show when I slammed my head straight into the wall on the way out. :):):)Ouch!!!

This is one of those years that Thanksgiving winds up on or near my middle son, Nicholas, birthday. It's the day before, so we'll be celebrating both special occasions this week. Talk about Thanksgiving and being "Thankful", when I think of all the events around that time when Nick was born, I can't help but be in awe, let alone, grateful at the incredible things God has done! I know the Apostle Paul says to "press forward" and of course, he's encouraging us not to live in the past, or get stuck there...and I understand that completely. However, sometimes, I think it's good to think about who we were, where we've come from, so that we don't just take what God's done for granted. It's so easy to get caught up in all the stresses, complications and details of everyday life and allow them to be larger than the God I claim to trust. Looking back allows me to gain a true perspective of God, who really is larger than anything life throws at me.

There've been lots of dark days in my life (before Christ)...moments consumed with hopelessness, but, Thanksgiving Day, 1981 was probably one of the worst. I'd had a friend pick me up at the hospital that day...me and my new baby. Now home in the quiet of my apartment, a sense of panic washed over me as I watched Nicholas asleep in his basinette. I'd never felt so alone. The seriousness and responsibility of this situation hit me at once. No job, no money, no husband and another child to raise. Good grief, what had I done? I called a few friends in tears, but, they couldn't really talk, they were celebrating Thanksgiving with family.

Alone, all kind of thoughts now circled around in my head. How brave I thought I was in my decision to have this baby against all advise otherwise. "Are you crazy? You can't have a baby. It's easy, no big deal, just get an abortion. Everybody does it these days!" But, it wasn't easy, and all my strong willed and opinionated statements, like; "no body is going to tell me what to do with my own body" just flew right out the window when after seeing a doctor about a "growth" in my abdomen, turned out to be 21 weeks of pregnancy. Somebody, anybody, please tell me what to do with my body I now screamed silently and immediately spiraled into a 3 day crying, sleeping and more crying black hole of depression and confusion. One of the first and funniest things to be grateful for about that time was the questionable bedside manner of the doctor. This guy was not moved one bit by my dilemma or tears..."you're too far along for normal abortion procedures" he said matter-of-factly. "You have to go through the process of delivery. Only I'll inject a solution that will terminate the fetus." Then he added this, which I will never forget..."Oh, and by the way, I charge just as much for a dead baby as I do a live one."

Hmmm, if that don't send you reeling, I don't know what will. Anyway, to make a very long story sort of short...I still called what I thought was an abortion clinic...who knows why...maybe to merely find someone to talk to. So I found one in the phone book. It was called a "Crisis Pregnancy Center." I was pregnant...in a crisis, how perfect. One of the kindest persons ever answered the phone at like 7 in the morning and invited me right over. I jumped at the invitation and found it to be a beautiful ranch for unwed mothers, mostly young girls. I was older, 27, didn't need what they offered, but, found a compassionate ear and one simple question changed everything for for me. "Why can't you have this baby?" She asked. All my frets, worries and concerns now sounded trite as I heard myself speak them out loud to her. There was really no reason, other than inconvenience, any way I looked at it and a few days later, the weight of the world lifted from my shoulders...and brain...when I made a decision.

"I'm having this baby" however, wasn't met with such great relief from others. Particuarly the father, who I'd broken up with months before. Angry and confused, I'm sure he's probably regretted some of the cruel things he said to me back then. But, it was just another of the things that went swirling around my head that dismal Thanksgiving Day, causing me to now question my decision as my beautiful little boy lay sleeping. What would I do? How would we make it? Right now, even diapers and formula would be a problem until I could get back to work. (which I did 3 weeks later)

Though I didn't know I'd posed those questions to God, I now know He was heard those cries. There were a few of my clients who said they were "praying" for me. Yeah right, I thought, if I gave it any thought at all, because I didn't believe, if there was a God, that He would have anything to do with the likes of me. However, two times during those few desperate weeks and two little boys to support, my clients' churches sent over huge bags of groceries and showed up at my door (wearing Santa hats) with presents for all of us. I was too proud back then and too decieved into thinking I was fiercely independent, to be grateful enough, but...I don't have to think of it too hard now to appreciate God's hand in all these events. Today, when I remember that Thanksgiving, I'm not too proud to give Him every bit of the credit. I am overhelmed by the "Beauty of what God is willing to make of the Ashes of what many times are our own foolish choices... and...I am moved to tears over God's goodness, when I celebrate the 24th year of the birth of my beautiful son, Nicholas!

A Happy and Blessed Thanksgiving to all!

JoJo

Today, my heart just breaks for my sweet friend JoJo. Yesterday, her precious little Kristin went home to be with the Lord. Jojo's strength and unwavering faith in Christ has been such an inspiration and encouragement for so many of us. Please keep their family in your prayers and thoughts.



JoJo's Blog

HE** Week!!!

They call this last week before opening night, which is this Friday, H*ll week! Now I know why! They weren't kidding! I don't think I've made it home before 1 or 2 in the morning. Yesterday morning, the phone rang at 6:30 and it was Frank. I thought he was taking a shower, so I got really disoriented and confused. Like..."who are you?" Dang, "who am I?" And..what are you doing on the phone? He wasn't amused and had a list for me even though I was pretty much incoherent.

Speaking of incoherant (sp?) my daughter, Julie called on Monday night on my way home (around 1 am) because she was worried. I told Frank on Tuesday morning that Julie had called to see if I was ok. "Then she wished me happy birthday," I told him. He just looked at me strangely..."why would she say that?" he asked. "Maybe, because it IS my birthday!"

Ok...I'm done complaining! I actually wanted to post earlier in the week, before H*ll week took it's toll and say a few words about the weekend, which was incredible. Last week, fellow blogger..."Lepido" Hank and his beautiful wife, Nancy were visiting relatives in our town, so we got to spend some time together. What a blessing! They came to our church on Sunday morning and I was thinking...that's one of the cool things about being "in Christ." We have "family" everywhere. We can skip the small talk and get right to the things that matter. It's like we've known each other forever. We got to visit a few times while they were here and I enjoyed every minute of it and consider them very special friends. I think they did too...even though they now have a little more insight into "my husband's new invention."

There is so much to say about what is going on with "The Sound of Music" I just don't have time right now. Hopefully, when it calms down a little and we get past the chaos of this week...I'll be able to write more. Hope so.

Meanwhile..."So Long, Farewell...Aweideseine (I've got no idea how to spell that) Goodbye!

"Unlikely Angel"

Just got back from vacation. Now I need a vacation to get over the “vacation.”  Anyway, the highlight of the week was reading Ashley Smith’s book “Unlikely Angel” Remember her? She was the girl who was taken hostage by Brian Nichols…the guy who had just escaped from jail and killed 4 people, including a judge in GA. When the story came out, she said she read to him from “The Purpose Driven Life” and after a 7 hour ordeal this guy let her go in the morning to see her little girl and asked if he could do some stuff around her house. Is that an incredible story or what?

After reading the book, there were a few details that didn’t come out initially. The girl was a drug addict and actually offered some “ice” (crystal meth) to him. However, what is so cool about the book is not so much the news story, but the bigger story…Ashley Smith’s redemption. Right after reading the book, I saw her on the Larry King show and of course, he brought up that there are Christian leaders opposing this book. There are others criticizing her for offering drugs to a criminal…but, as the “experts” try to analyze, scrutinize and psychologize what happened that night – you know what???? I find it absolutely, beautifully refreshing that she was simply “living life” – moving into an apartment, going out for cigarettes… and our Wonderful God, the mighty Creator of the universe was right there, and made Himself known to her…and He used her in a very powerful way.
He tells us that He is a God who is involved in the smallest details of life, yet we find that very difficult to believe. But, God is real and reaches into the depths to save us. She found out that night…it’s true!

Sixteen years ago, I too found out it was true! Reading the details of her “awakening,” it was inspiring… like living mine all over again, when one night, after overdosing on Cocaine for the 3rd or 4th time (I can’t recall), thinking I wasn’t going to make it…I too came to grips with those same truths #1) I was a drug addict #2) I was a pathetic excuse for a mother {I had 3 kids by different fathers, which was exactly how I grew up} #3) They would be far better off without me if I died. Life was out of control and like this girl, I thought the drugs were larger than God, I thought that my inability to get the relationship-thing right was bigger than God…but, I would realize that night that I had a REAL Father and He was much bigger and awesome than any drug or any thing else that had a hold of my life. I have never looked back and I don’t think she will either, because she got to see what many, many people, even Christians, only hope to believe – things aren’t what we thought they were…we’re not who we thought we were! What a blessing to have those ‘moments’ where you know, without a doubt that God is real and His love is real!

The night of my own “awakening” I saw the huge reality of the truth…I knew that I deserved God’s anger, I knew what a screw-up I’d been, I deserved His disappointment. However, God met me with unconditional grace & mercy. It was very real and though I’d been so high earlier that I could barely talk, I knew God answered my cry for help and sensed His love in a very intimate and real way. Suddenly, I was no longer afraid. He’s given me peace and freed me from the pain of the past.


As far as this story…you know, it’s funny, we have all this technology, education, knowledge and we think we’re so intelligent, yet the truth is so profoundly simple. The most effective and powerful weapon continues to be a sincere and genuine heart, willing to be used by God…in everyday life. God’s word used coming though a transparent vessel translates forgiveness and hope through Christ to the most dismal, hopeless situation. This girl offered…she allowed God to offer that hope to a very dangerous and desperate man who rightly thought he was “already dead”! She lived to tell about it when others did not, which reminds me of another truth found in scripture! “Not by might nor by power, but by my Spirit, says the Lord”

When I was first saved, someone told me something that I’ve never forgotten. They just reminded me how relatively few people “know what I know” and I should never give up sharing. Reading her story and realizing that there are always those who will criticize, there will be doubts and we’ll grow weary at times, but nothing compares to the hope our stories offer to the millions who have none. Though ours may have not been a media event, we who’ve experienced that hope have a story. Don’t stop sharing it.

And I thought this my first time "performing!"

And I thought this was my first time "performing!" Looks like I had a little more experience than I thought. ;-) Guess which one is me!

Good grief, before that last post, it had been almost a month since I wrote. That's hard to believe. Let's see...what's gone on in a month? Hmmm...well, I've learned my part of the accapella "chant" in Latin, which I thought was impossible. Now I'm having to learn to waltz. At least with the singing...you can back out, if you stumble...but, waltzing????

Frank and I were Best man and "matron of honor" in a wedding. Yep, my mom's. So, now I'm 50 and I've got a new step-dad. As soon as they were married, my mother said to Frank, about her new husband; "now he's one of us!" Frank immediately looked right at him and said "great! could you lend me 2000.00?" The groom took out a hankie and nervously wiped his brow.


Also, lots of opportunities to sing, leading worship at our own church and other events with a few coming up as well. Everything seems to be in October and we've planned a vacation, so we'll be gone for the first week. In fact, we leave this Friday. It's been planned for months, but little did we know that it would be the worst possible time to go away ever. But..is there ever a "GOOD" time to go away?

I am however, looking forward to spending an entire, relaxing week with my family. We're also taking my brother's nine year old son and 3 friends of the kids. So, it should be fun....or chaotic :)

"Out of The Ashes" Part 3 - Final

As I said earlier, I'd started here and there singing on the worship team at
church, which gave me great joy and something to look forward to week to
week, even though there were days I could barely stand up, even with pain
medication.

One evening, I was one of the team leading worship for a guest speaker at our
church. I remember this so well, the passion of this Jewish woman as she
shared her story; a woman, though highly motivated, wealthy and successful still found herself terribly lonely and empty. She wound up walking away from everything and was even disowned by her own family when she embraced the reality that Jesus Christ WAS in fact the Messiah and His sacrifice included her!

This gal was serious. The revelation that God loved her in this personal way
had turned her life upside down and cost her everything. When she was
finished talking, I asked her to pray for me. I told her about the misery of the treatments. How weak and sick I was and it seemed to be getting worse, yet I still had more than seven months left. She just looked me square in the face and didn't even hesitate;

"who says you have to continue taking the medication?"

What????? I couldn't believe the nerve of her to be so bold.

"Well," I stammered. "Uh...the doctors say that I have to be on this eighteen months."

"What does God say?"

I have to admit, I was hurt and actually a little insulted. I don't know what I actually was expecting...a little compassion, maybe, but...I certainly wasn't expecting her blunt reply at all. I dismissed her answer as being a little fanatical. Yet, as the days drug on and I grew weaker, I remembered those words again and again. By now, I'd lost half my hair, (Now THAT's a symptom worse than death...well...right up there among the worst, at least for a hairdresser :) and my head pounded constantly. Every muscle and bone in my body ached without relief. In those last weeks of treatment, just getting in a car, let alone driving, was simply unbearable. Getting myself up and out of my house had come to require so much effort, going anywhere just didn't seem worth it.

One night, friends were in from out of town. They wanted to meet us for dinner.
I missed them and wanted to see them so badly. So I timed the pain
medication, taking it right before we left the house, so that I could tolerate
sitting up in a restaurant for an hour or so. Their expression of concern when
they saw me confirmed it; I looked as near death as I felt. That night I was due
for another shot, but the thought that the morning would bring more side
effects on top of this was just too much to bear. Though I went through the ritual of tapping the air bubbles from the syringe and finding a clear place on my leg to inject...I found I just couldn't do it! And didn't.

The next day, I called the nurse at the "Medical College of VA" or MCV, where
I'd been going for treatment since starting the second round of injections. "I can't do this anymore." I sobbed to the nurse. After administering shots of Inf for almost a year to myself, the thought of doing it this ONE MORE TIME made me sick.

"Well, of course, we can't make you take treatment" she said. "why don't you just stop and see how it goes?"

So I did. I stopped short of seven months of the prescribed treatment with no
recurrance or consequence. Today I'm still "virus undetectable" which means
that although the virus is probably still there, it is no longer active or wreaking
the havoc it once was. (Now I am not advocating that everyone stop treatment,
because I don't deny that the medication had some part of the recovery,
however, I attribute my physical, emotional and spiritual health to God)

Slowly, I began gaining strength. Eventually, it occurred to me that until then, I'd
been content to live in this bubble of a Christian world, surrounded by
Christian people, doing "Christian" things. Yet, for more than seventy five
percent of my life, I'd stood on the edge of hell itself, trying out, in some
measure or another, pretty much everything this world has to offer. I knew that
the end result in all of those things came to nothing. I'd experienced it first
hand and knew without a doubt, God is real, and His love through what was
done on that cross is serious! That woman knew it was serious!

Realizing that, back when God showed me His reality, had brought a sudden reversal of the destruction I'd reaped on not only myself, but, my children, just what kind of human being would I be if I could simply enjoy the shelter of this new
"Christian" world, when others around me were still caught in so much
hopelessness and despair?

It's kind of like a conversation on another blog; one guy asked the question "what if it's all not true? and you lived your life for something that was a lie?"

"Well" I answered him. "Then my life was more purposeful, meaningful,
healthy, and because of it a cycle of abuse, divorce, alcohol and drugs was
mercifully ended. I guess the worms and the dirt that cover me when it's all said and done will be none the more harmed for my being there....HOWEVER...If it IS true...God help me if I didn't at least tell you."

Anyway you look at it, I felt like this whole thing had purpose. I don't claim to
know the whole of God's intended purpose...but, for me, this hideous thing
opened my eyes to first of all, see more intimately, the seriousness of life and
what people go through. Surrounded by all the "Christian" trimmings, it's easy
to lose perspective of the pain/suffering and despair of others. This was the
thing that God used to encourage me to share my life, openly. There's nothing to hide; the good or the bad. I'm not responsible for what people think, but only to let others know that there is nothing too difficult for Him. He can and will change the most impossible/hopeless situations if you simply let Him.

Corrie TenBoom, a Holocaust survivor, said this; quoting her sister
as she lay tortured and dying in a concentration camp; "there is no suffering on
this earth that is so deep that His love is not deeper still" Her words seem trite, except that spoken through a serious situation...they become more profound. Those words were spoken through the truth that gave them hope in such as hopeless situation...the reality of what God has done through Jesus on the cross.

I share all this in the hope to encourage you. Don’t give up. If you are a

Christian, hold on tight, embrace the Truth, even when it doesn't "feel" so true,

and learn with those that have gone before to trust His goodness and say with

confidence “I will not fear for thou art with me.”


If you don't believe, I pray that maybe you'll ask Him right now, to show you

the reality of His existance.

Just Call Me Sista Melanie!!!

After the audition the other night, I walked out chalking it up to "oh, well...at least it was a great experience." I knew I was totally out of my league with some of these "ringers" who showed up. There were about 20 or more women who got the "call back"; all scrambling for one of three lead nuns. You should have heard these voices...good grief!!! When I was handed sheet music and told "That's your part" of a 4 part harmony...geesh...I know my place and it wasn't there :):) I can sing harmony, but totally from what I hear...in other words, I can't read a note! :)

I was so sure that there was no way on this earth, I'd already made plans to once again, produce my own play for Christmas. In fact, all the excitement of "The Sound of Music" had given me the motivation for all the work it takes to put it together. HOWEVER...

Going back to life as usual, I was putting groceries away when my son came home from work early...

Nick: So you don't think they're going to call.

Me: (laugh) I'm positive...there is no way.

Nick: How do you know?

Me: Trust me.

This is the honest truth...right here, the phone rings...Nick picks it up and looks at Caller ID

Nick: It's Riverside!

Me: Very funny!

Nick: No, I'm serious!

Me: No way, get outta here.

Nick: Mom!!!!! I'm serious...it's Riverside...

Me: Hello?

Man on phone: Hi, this is "Bob" from Riverside. How are you? Did you have fun last night?

Me: I learned alot. :)

"Bob": Well, I'm calling to offer you the role of one of the nuns. An exta "singing nun"

Me: Are you kidding? I'm not sure...can I call you back?

Bob: What??? Well...uh...I really need to know.

Me: I will, I'll call you right back.


I called Frank because by then, I'd already begun thinking about this big Christmas production. "Are you crazy? You can see this through, then do the production. Just push it back a few months."

So, all that to say...I'm a "Singing nun" Sister No Name! I was just thinking about how incredible it is to know the Lord. I could have never dreamed to have part of the opportunities that He's given. Now, I'm not saying that getting a part in the "Sound of Music" is a direct "blessing" from God, because to tell the truth, I know it could be a complete nightmare and something I'll never do again. What I am saying though, is that it's confidence in God rather than myself that I would even attempt stuff like this. When I think of the talent that was there, there's not a doubt in my mind that confidence in the reality of God kept me from curling up in a ball or something. Taking chances with a sort of "wreckless" abandon that isn't crippled by intimidation or fear of embarassment is such a freedom...it's one of His many gifts.

2Corinthians 3:17...."where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom"

Anyway, rehearsals start this Sunday for the nuns...I have to learn 2nd Alto Harmony for the "Morning Hymn"...in (gulp)Latin...so, here we go!!!

The Hills Are Alive!!!!!

Ok...is it some kind of middle age crisis? or...maybe I AM just crazy! We went to a dinner theatre the other night for my daughter Julie's birthday. It was so much fun, I thought..."hey, I'd like to try that!" I found out they were having try-outs Sunday and Monday for the "The Sound of Music!" Yep, you guessed it!!! Yesterday, this went on all day,

Frank: you know you want to...

Me: It's nuts! I can't

Frank: But, you know you want to

Me: No, really, that's insane!

Frank: So, what time are you going?

Me: Try-outs are at 7, so guess I should leave around 6



I've written, directed and produced about 5 or 6 of my own plays. Acted in them too...although that's really not fair, since I wrote my own part.:) All for churches. However, I've never seen the whole process from this end. So, I'm thinking it will help to have this experience...yeah, that's it...ri-i-ight....it's training for my playwriting. :):)

You know, I really did have this secret passion to be in "drama" in high school, even when I was hooking, etc,.etc., Actually, now that I think about it, it seemed crazy then too...
Anyway, I got the "call-back" this morning, so I could possibly be a "Singing Nun" in the Sound of Music :) It's off to try-outs again!

Also, I'll be doing a concert this Saturday night, so keep me in your prayers! Wow! considering my last few posts...ain't it amazing? the difference a few years can make?

Out of the Ashes - Part 2

This is the cover for a book I've written, and rewritten and rewritten. It's never been published, so as much as I know you'd love to have it, it's not available. :) This experience is just one of the many included in the journey of knowing that even though I'm so familiar with the words to Psam 23, "The Lord is my Shepherd" the statement "I shall not want" when actually put to the test, is a whole different matter...


Just when I thought the dark couldn't get any darker...it did!
As the treatments for the Hepatitis wore on, I found the very foundations of my faith snapped out from under me once again. Sporadic prayers tumbled into a bottomless pit of constant pain and difficult days. Trivial tasks I'd once taken for granted, like cooking, making the bed, driving the kids to school, suddenly proved monumental. I remember envying other drivers who seemed to do it effortlessly. Life "went on" for those around me and I couldn’t keep up. Defensive and insecure, I was reduced to this stranger who wanted to hide from the world. Each day I grew weaker, my life moved further into this wierd place. I developed an acute sensitivity I hadn't experienced since God had changed my life so drastically. Withdrawing wasn’t easy for the ‘people person’ that I’d always been. In fact, up to that point, my life was an open book. The fact that God had changed my life in a such a powerful way just a few short years earlier, compelled me to share what He'd done with anyone who'd listen. Honestly, my confidence in the power of the Gospel had given me the desire to be sincerely available for anyone who needed someone to talk to. But had it really been sincere? Dang, I was barely able to tolerate talking to them, let alone listen to problems. Suffering made me irritable. All I wanted to be was...alone! Gripped with self pity, miserable with no end in sight, there seemed no words to speak to God, only tears to cry before Him. Why couldn’t someone understand? Couldn’t someone feel what I feel?

Even my children, who love me more than anything, grew frustrated and began displaying annoyance with the fact that mom “never feels well”. Probably one of my most heart wrenching memories during the ordeal was holding one of my sons, sobbing.

“Why does this have to happen to you?”

“I’m sure God has a reason”, I answered. But, for the life of me, I couldn’t see it.


And no wonder isolation was bliss! While I’m absolutely certain loved ones and friends never intended to wound, in this vulnerable state, their inuendos seemed to dictate life itself. Advice such as “you need to exercise! You don’t look like you feel bad! You probably need to focus on other things," I'm sure was meant for my comfort had exactly the opposite effect. And to make things worse, being in the beauty business for years left me with this annoying habit that didn't help the situation one little bit. Every day since entering beauty school at age 17, I'd faithfully applied make-up and styled my hair; through surgeries, hospital stays, pregnancies...no matter what or how bad I felt. I could do it with my eyes closed. I could do it if I was dying. It was not, however, a habit that would attract much sympathy from doctors, friends or family. It was a doggone curse, I tell you...to look so good and feel so bad!

I learned a lot during those days though; always quick to give answers and comfort, I could find none myself; so many times I’d boldly told people that Jesus is the answer to all things, yet as I grew weaker and weaker, despair just came creeping in. Thoughts of times I'd met others in crisis with not only prayers, but, quick advice and relative scriptures, now seemed almost trite. Though I'd meant well...some of my very own words offered in the pain of suffering friends , suddenly seemed...well...almost callous.

"Alice in Wonderland" (by Susan Ashton) a song that played over & over in my shop took on a new meaning;

When Alice has an answer it's a common rationality
She measures her phrases, tipping the scales of reality
But does she know that it's cold to sing songs to a troubled heart
Tho' her aim is sincere she's missing the mark

I said - Alice look around you, people are falling to pieces
Yea, even the faithful, the ones who still believe in Jesus
But that doesn't mean they've fallen from grace
But in her landscape, their heartache is so out of place


“Is your church praying for you?” What??? I feebly smiled at one woman’s remark, but fought a rising temper..and to be honest, a temptation to hit her or at least, pinch her nose....really hard. She and I both knew what she really meant; that the horror of what was happenening and this growing weakness was some sort of sign of unfaithfulness or lack of spirituality. On more than one occasion, well-meaning brothers and sisters in Christ would refer to this illness that was destroying life as I knew it, as some consequence of sin or lack of faith. In the midst of this hideous never-ending trial, I felt more incredibly alone than I’d ever been in my life.

So many times I’d paraphrased 2 Corinthians 12:9, saying, “the Lord’s strength is perfected in my weakness”, yet I despised this weakness taking over my own body. I wanted my old life back! I just wanted to go back to the way things were! I know this might be difficult to understand, but, what I'd come to learn is that God loved me too much for that!

You know what I'm talking about when I say that some of us would rather gnaw our own arm off than admit we need help? That was me! However, at the beginning, when my 'control-freak' self finally conceded to the doctor's diagnosis of "depression," I gave in and saw a psychiatrist. Honestly, I was so desperate to shake the suffocating sense of darkness with no end, I was willing to do just about anything; even run in the opposite direction from what I'd come to believe.

Dr. Brill was about eighty years old. He limped into our first meeting with a huge cast on his foot. A no-nonsense type, loaded with cynical, sarcastic remarks, he was pretty intimidating. It was pretty obvious immediately, he was a very wise man...at least in his own mind. Fluffing off any suggestion on my part of what I thought the problem was, he stayed adamant about bringing up my childhood memories. He dismissed my insistence that my past had nothing to do with not feeling well. I quickly learned that he was not at all interested in talking or hearing about the most important thing in my life; my faith in God! Dr. Brill wanted to focus more on relationships he felt were making me codependent and miserable. He prided himself that he had the knowledge to "fix" them. Two whole half-hour sessions and he'd figured it out...my problem? Frank! He felt that my marriage was, let’s just say, not beneficial for my health and suggested that we both come the next time. Frank refused to go back after the doc called him a 'smart$#%*" In fact, I only saw him a few more times because my strength began to return somewhere after my third or fourth week. Maybe it was a reprieve from the disease, I don’t know, but along with renewed energy came my old passion for life. I called it enthusiasm. Dr. Brill called it "manic depression" or "Bi-polar disease". I don't think I've ever felt as broken as the day he sent me for liver tests to put me on the drug Lithium. Now, this is just my own story...I'm not dismissing the reality of "BiPolar or Manic Depression" I'm just telling you that suddenly, something snapped and I walked out of his office one day, suddenly feeling I’d wasted time and money when the Lord had the answers. Back when I'd seen Dr. Brill, there was one of his suggestions, however that just kept haunting me; the one about my marriage. Particularly when the worst was yet to come.

Somehow I’d built some kind of fantasy that this crisis would cultivate stuff in our marriage like closeness, nurturing and protectiveness. Boy, was I disappointed! There was no stopping the building resentment. Frantically, I had looked to the medical field with desperation. However, in a very practical sense, God knew what our family needed. I had been the center of our home for far too long. One of the most frustrating things for me to do is ‘nothing’. For me, that sense of uselessness and weakness was absolutely repulsive. Allowing others to do anything for me was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to ‘learn’. Though a tough lesson, it was during that stressful time that I found God does as much in our lives when we are quietly before Him as when we are busily serving Him. Some of us do that automatically; some of us need to be forced. I’d read for years that the man or husband is supposed to be the Spiritual head of the house. I had no idea what that meant. Actually, sounded kind of frightening to me. Demanding or maybe even violent. Then again, since he'd been more than happy to let me run everything, I’d always assumed my husband didn’t want that role. Truth is, I had never let him. All my life, I’d taken care of myself...and everyone else within range. My way. Proud of the fact that I didn’t need anyone, that sense permeated our marriage. Now I did, I needed him and I have to tell you, I resented it deeply. And to tell you the truth, I think he found my needing him a little frightening and strange. My expectations for him now were so great, he couldn’t meet them if he tried. If I now agreed that my husband should be the man that I could lean on, I had no idea where or how to start.

When I became ill, he had to assume a different role. It was, and continues to be, a slow and painful process...for both of us. It is not an easy thing...to trust God over disappointment with each other. Learning to release strengths we’ve always relied on. Sometimes those things we hold onto need to be destroyed before attempting to build healthy relationships. Neither of us knew how to really committ to one another in "sickness and in health, for better or worse" until we each individually understood how much we were loved by God.


And that's the thing...how could you go through something like this and know you were loved by God at all, let alone how much? However, teachings I'd heard in the early days of my faith kept coming up. There were so many things relative to what I was going through. Yep, even those heroes of the faith dealt with depression, despair. Even though I found it difficult to read or study, I remembered different teachings. One Psalm in particular, the writer ends a very descriptive litany of anguish, one which I could now relate, remembering what God had done in his past. This was the hope he was able to cling to when doubt mocked everything else.

I found it interesting to learn that King David, while still a shepherd, penned the 23rd Psalm when he was penned in, trapped on every side with the army of his enemy King Saul in hot pursuit. “Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil, for thou art with me”. I don't know if it was because I thought I would die, or what, but that verse kept popping in my head. Exhausted from the struggle, I think it was then I realized that I'd looked to every single arm of comfort but HIS. Yet, now there seemed something so peaceful, so patient and loving in the Psalm that, until then, I'd only heard recited at funerals. I think it's that "want it right now" mentality we all have today, that sent me looking into every promise of reprieve, but I was definately finally reaching a point, with nowhere else to turn, of pure eshaustion or brokenness. Finally, I prayed...really prayed. However, His words for me were not exactly what I expected to hear.

He spoke to me through the book of Isaiah that seemed to pop off the page; ”My eyes grew weak as I looked to the heavens. I am troubled, O Lord, come to my aid… But what can I say? He has spoken to me and he himself has done this. I will walk humbly all my years because of this anguish of my soul. Lord, by such things men live; and my spirit finds life in them too. Surely, it was for my benefit that I suffered such anguish.” (Isaiah 38:14-17)

Why in the world, you ask, would this prayer of King Hezekiah during his own awful illness bring comfort? I guess it was comforting to me to know that God had not turned away. This was not some punishment for something I'd done wrong, nor a lack of faith. It simply was. It was also comforting for me to know that I had not for one moment, slipped from His knowledge or His love. It was transforming to realize that this trial, as painful as it was, seemed suddenly a loving vehicle of precious intimacy, providing a deeper relationship with the One who created me. From the other side of this "crisis" I would view life and faith from a whole new perspective that I could never know any other way.

Out of the Ashes

Yesterday, and last week in Indiana, it occurred to me, during the worship time, what incredible things God has done. I mean, it's unbelievable sometimes that we've made it together, let alone...sharing in something so intimate and beautiful as Leading Worship??? Well...let me tell you, it wasn't always that way. Not even close! Yesterday, I was sharing our story with a woman at church and it just fell out of my mouth...as things seem to do often, especially when I'm excited...

Her: Were you guys in a band or something.

me: no I didn't even sing before God changed my life.

Her; Wow! That's incredible!

me: Oh, you don't know the half of it. I mean, if God could change a "Jerry Springer Person" like myself, He can do anything!"

Now let me explain and please don't send me hate mail or anything. I'm not saying there's anything wrong with people who appear on the Jerry Springer show. All I'm saying is that, in the mindset of my pre-Christ years, you could have easily found me comfortably on his or any talk show selling out my family or fighting and defending myself. I mean who wouldn't find satisfaction temporarily, anyway, to have a whole audience agreeing with your opinion and YOUR side of an argument?

Anyway, I was thinking this morning about how it all did start. Sharing our lives and our faith in this way.

and I guess, next to becoming Christians, the biggest change in this direction actually came from what seemed at the time to be a horrible crisis. But, then again I think somewhere in the meaning of the word crisis, it means to 'turn-around'. A crisis brings change...one way or another. Good or bad, I guess it's the way you look at it. Anyway, I thought I'd share ours...

Part 1

“You can rise!
Out of the ash you can rise!
When the morning will break in your life,
And what looked like your heart's demise
Turned out to be a blessing in disguise!”

words from song “Blessing in Disguise” – Margaret Becker

Yep, me and Naomi Judd…we got the dreaded…Hep C. At least that’s what I thought. Of course, now I know that I'm merely one of millions who've been infected with the Hepatitis C virus. Though I'm perfectly aware that I've probably dabbled with every less noble way to get infected, it would seem that a likely cause is the couple of transfusions, on two separate occasions, I was given in the 80’s. They've since found that some of the blood they handed out back then was not so clean as they thought. But, the way I figure it, at the time, I needed the blood to get through the immediate crisis. So, who knows which is worse?

My dream of owning my own hair salon had come true. It was a precious little dollhouse-looking place, which only a year before had been a run down sort of shed or garage structure where locals in our tiny beach-town hung out. "The Bass Hole" sold worms and fish hooks. Now it sold hairspray and shampoo, had cute little turquoise shutters, a white french door, beautiful peach tile floors, mirrors and plumbling. "The BeachComber" was an unexpected and growing success, even with its horrible location of fifteen miles from anywhere. I loved it...not once did anyone complain about the Christian music playing softly in the background, at least to my face. My clients became more friends than customers and we enjoyed some deep and personal conversations. God had given me the gift of hairdressing. I was using it for Him. Seemed to me, that this would/could/should go on forever. However, I'd soon find out that God's ways are not even close to our ways.

At some point, it occurred to me, that, in complete contrast to my usual energy and enthusiasm, I began to experience extreme, and crushing..almost nauseating fatigue. Honestly, things became increasingly more desperate each day as I soon found it difficult to get out of bed in the morning. Seeking medical help began a journey of frustrating appointments and tests and discouragements, that to me, made dealing with the actual disease somehow more appealing. Test after test, showing nothing, led to one of the most despairing times of my life…and this after knowing joy and purpose like I’ve never known since becoming a Christian just a few short years earlier. With the vague "fatigue" syptoms and no sign of anything specific and textbook, doctors eventually concluded that it was ‘clinical depression.' (Is there a difference between ‘clinical’ and regular depression btw?) Angry and finding their diagnosis humiliating, I refused to believe it.
“I’m the least depressed person I know”, I argued with our regular family physician. “If I’m depressed, it’s because I don’t feel well”, I appealed. The negative results of blood tests seemed to confirm his findings and added to my frustration. It was so frustrating to communicate to him how this non-specific thing was devestating my life and only made him seem more satisfied with his diagnosis. Growing wearier each day, despair and dread loomed larger than life itself. The energy and motivation I once took for granted had disappeared and in its place was a self-absorbed whiny baby who just wanted somebody, somewhere to understand what was happening to my life.

Never had I felt so alone. I have to say though, the worst thing about this horrible experience was that the very faith that I had professed to every client who sat in my chair was now ringing empty down in my own soul. Prayers seemed to echo in a blasted deafening silence. My husband and children were losing their patience with me. They wanted the old me back, but every day, that person sunk further from reach. Desperately seeking understanding and finding none, I finally resigned myself to the facts. It felt as if I'd been pushed to a breaking point I didn't think possible "ok, OK...uncle..." I felt like crying. Like it or not, I was depressed. It was absolutely depressing.

Yup, I was THAT desparate for help that I paid some stranger to listen and after struggling through psychiatric treatment, anti-depressants, and more bouts with extreme fatigue, I mercifully began to have some gastro-intestinal problems. I say ‘mercifully’ because it was with those problems that it was discovered, through routine blood work that I had Hepatitis C. A liver biopsy, revealed that the disease was Chronic-active. What does that mean? That the Hepatitis C virus, which had invaded my blood, possibly through one of those transfusions, was aggressively attacking my liver. It had caused some pretty impressive damage and left untreated, would probably lead to Cirrhosis and the eventual need of a liver transplant. Relief that I was not some middle aged pre-menopausal, crazy woman was short-lived when I realized the treatment for Hepatitis C. (don't let this scare you, though...I hear it's much better now)

But, at the time, the treatment was three self-administered injections of Intron-A Interferon per week, for six months was the standard protocol. The side effects of Interferon consisted of two pages of possibilities. From redness and swelling at the injection site to severe flu-like symptoms to of course, death. I figured I’d probably fall somewhere in between, so I was willing to take the chance and began to dream of regaining my old life. This was it! God would restore my old life and my . It made perfect sense.

Meanwhile, a group from church meeting in our home on Friday evenings and from that I was asked to join the worship team. Maybe they just felt sorry for me, but, however it came about, I found joy in that like you would not believe. Little did I know at the time that leading praise and worship would be just one of the first sweet gifts (and begin one of the major changes) that would help sustain me in one of the very darkest times in my life. God would begin to change life as I knew it in a way I had never imagined possible, through a circumstance that I would have never suspected.

The first injection was a nightmare! Violent chills, extremely high fever and the horrible splitting headache. Even my skin hurt to touch it, but within twenty-four hours, I began to feel better...just in time to re-inject. The side effects were diminishing, but fearing a reoccurrence, I contacted a doctor, just to alleviate some of my apprehension and was assured that it would be much milder, if anything the next time. It was true. The next time wasn’t as bad, and after taking off of work for the weekend, I returned to my salon. Two months in, however, I'd lost weight, grown very weak and deathly ill. It was becoming more and more impossible to maintain treatments along with working. I quit the treatments after the second horrible headache that lasted whole agonizing week and almost immediately regained my old stamina and energy. I felt like myself for the first time in years and nothing could keep me down. I totally ignored thoughts that there may be consequences of stopping treatment, and went forward, full steam ahead into new marketing strategies for my salon, and new ideas for reaching the lost. A few months later, as I tackled a rugged camping trip, volunteering for Compassion International, the bottom of my energy dropped out once again. This time, though, I knew something was terribly wrong. Returning home, I was discouraged with the terrible results of medical tests. They showed an aggressive relapse in the virus, which had probably been due to cutting the treatment short. I was forced to face the situation more realistically.

At this point, treatments were no longer optional. My immediate future now included a much higher strength of Interferon for a greater length of time. To say I was discouraged was an understatement. There was no getting around it, if I was going to fight this new attack on my liver, I would have to readjust my life. Knowing what I’d experienced the first time, it would be impossible to keep the salon. As I sat packing everything everything I'd dreamed of, I began to prepare for the second round.

Besides the obvious suffering a disease and its treatment can cause personally, the effects on the family can be devesating. This would begin some of the most powerful changes in my relationships with my husband and children than I could ever imagine. Strength was my greatest asset. I had always prided myself on my ability to manage everything. Frank would be the first to admit that he had very little input on what it took to run our home. That was my department. How would they deal with the journey we were about to embark, with mom displaying a weakness they’d never seen? With mom needing them? God had brought our marriage miraculously to this point; I could count on my husband being the strength in our family, right? Of course they’d come through, I was sure. After all, I’d done everything for them all these years. Of course they'd magically acquire all the caretaking tools they'd need. However, while I still could, with all my control freak gifts and abilities intact...I had everything in order. Planning it perfectly around chores and every other thing they could need me for, I injected my first round of Interferon on a Sunday afternoon. That way, free from the daily routine, I knew if I needed help, they’d be there. Three hours later, however, I realized my plans weren’t as perfect as I’d initially thought; the first staggering signs of side effects of Intron Interferon would interfere all right, right smack in the middle of the very first game of professional football season!

That’s right, as my body was beginning to scream from chills and nausea, my Frank was screaming at the Redskins fumbling and passing. Experience told me, this would be a long night. I groped my way up the stairs desperate for a bed and to be perfectly honest, maybe a little sympathy. Maybe a little consoling?

My head throbbed and Frank’s enthusiasm over cheering crowds grew louder. I stood in the doorway, wanting him to notice the agony that was beginning to rage in my body.

He noticed. “Oh, hey, hon. Come on in,” he patted the bed beside him.

“This is a great game!” He emphasized. “Redskins are winning! Come watch it with me.”

Now, I have to tell you, I am not a huge football fan...even when I’m not feeling like death is around the corner.

My teeth chattered and I began to tremble, “Would you mind getting me some Tylenol and maybe a drink?”

“Sure,” he said, distracted, but polite. With his eyes glued to the television, he disappeared from the room. Back in a jiffy, he again became mesmerized, mechanically handing me water and some aspirin.

Settling back to the thrill of the game, his response was, let’s just say, a little less polite when I interupted once again.

“I’m freezing, Frank” I said. (Ok, I whined) through violent chills. “Could you please get me the heating pad out of the closet?”

It was only after the nerve of my third request that my husband actually resorted to rolling his eyes with a heavy sigh of total disgust. Minutes later, I began to be alarmed at the increasing and unrelenting side effects. And can you believe it? With total lack of respect for the Redskins, I asked if he would get the instructions out of the box of interferon. “Would you take a look at the list of side effects. I’m wondering if I should call the doctor?” I asked him to read which ones were considered severe.

Obviously at the end of his rope with me, Frank snapped the paper open. “Let’s see,” he began reading sarcastically, unable to hide his annoyance. “How about suicidal? That’s what the directions call severe. Are you feeling suicidal”?

Now I’d had it with his impatience and unmerciful attitude.

“No,” I snapped back. “But how about homicidal, is that on the list? Cause, that’s what I’m feeling right now,” I said, glaring back at him. “Very homicidal!”

In our early years of Christianity, Frank used to say "I'm praying for compassion."

"What??? You think God is gonna just dump compassion in your lap?" I'd answer flippantly. "Any fool knows you only gain compassion by feeling another's pain."

Obviously, those prayers hadn't been answered yet, and if he was going to ever feel some sort of compassion for what I was going through, that was certainly not the way to do it. My wisecracks only served to satisfy his own opinion; I was totally competent to care for myself. But, I wasn't. I've never needed him so desperately! We were certainly one huge dissapointment to each other.

So, there we were, off in the struggle to get through this together, with the tools that we had, and with the baggage that we brought. It was ugly.

On Pins & Needles

I have to share this with someone. I thought these kind of things only happen to me. Obviously not! My friend, Donna, goes to this same doctor as my son to get accupuncture treatments for allergies. We have no clue why this seems to work...it just does. (it really does) She suffers terribly with allergies, but she almost canceled due to finances. Or lets say..the lack of. Anyway, appointments are difficult to get and all the way there, in her mind, she's praying and grappling with the fact that she really didn't have the money, but she's desperate.

So, half hour later with pins sticking in all of her "pressure points" or whatever, she's relaxing to "Purpose Driven Life" cds in a walkman. Donna's got two little kids, so you can imagine, she's enjoying the quiet...for an hour, then 1 1/2 and then suddenly, it's a little too quiet. Hmmm...she's been hooked to some machine and had these little pins in her for almost two hours when not really knowing what to do, decides to unhook herself, and opens the door. No One. Now this doc is in a suite in an office building and my friend finally finds some man who has an accounting business down the hall. With little pins, like a porcupine all over her, she says "Excuse me. Excuse me, sir. Have you seen anyone from the allergists office?"

He just stares at her and says "Yeah, but, they've all gone home for the evening."
Silence. Her with her pins. Him with his accounts.
"Whew! And I thought they were using me for some kind of case study" she told him.

It winds up that he's had lots of these treatments too and offers to take the pins out. He did a really good job for an accountant, too, she says. Meanwhile, he called the doctor on her cell and come to find out, the receptionist had to unexpectedly pick up her son at the babysitters, and in the rush to leave, FORGOT my friend was all wired up in that room.

She chalked it up to God's answer to prayer, not to mention His sense of humor...cause the best part...they were so mortified...it was FREE!

Meeting JoJo

Who'da thunk that I'd get a chance to meet someone I've only chatted with on the internet? For just a few months? Who lives 700 miles away? I mean, there's relatives I've never met. But, I can only believe that God had a plan! It was a weekend I won't soon forget. Nor will my husband, Frank. In fact, for the first time ever, he's showing a little interest in blogging. Well, at least he wanted to check out JoJo's blog!

Heading Off to Indian-i-a

Leaving on Friday. Off to play at Oasis Fellowship in Vincennes, Indiana. Looking forward to meeting you, JoJo! :):)

Sorry I haven't been keeping up. I'm actually having a difficult time keeping up with...well...basically life. I can't tell you when or how this happened, but I find myself suddenly feeling overwhelmed, a little frazzled, and just between me and you...a little de-de-depressed..there, I said it.

There's a lot of stuff I could probably attribute it to...like...I could chalk it up to trying to get off of Premarin. I thought about this happening when I started weening myself off the synthetic hormones that everyone everywhere says will surely give you cancer. That's about all I gave it...a thought. I THOUGHT it was a no-brainer, now I'm reconsidering....cancer...or depression. Cancer or depression...cancer or


Then...there was Cory. He's my nephew who's been visiting for a few weeks. He's gone home now, but, as much as I love him, I'm still recovering. I'm so out of practice. (you can read my little picture/story about him uploaded into FLICKR)


I guess I should expect it, because as you fellow 'bare-naked's' know, there will always be adversity anytime we want to make Him known. Although, I'm afraid that in the end, I may find that the culprit was more my own danged self than anything else.

Happy 4th of July!

Well, we're off...hopefully, by this afternoon. Concert in Chincoteague, VA on Sunday and Delaware on Monday. Musically, I'm not ready, but when am I ever ready? It's just one of those things where God is ALWAYS faithful. I'm just so confident in the message, the power of His grace to change lives and give hope, that there's no sweatin' the small stuff :)

Frank has agreed to play the sax with me this time, although he's really anxious, so if anyone thinks of us, please pray! I keep telling him, it's not about the music, but the fact that God could put two messed up people with such animosity toward each other back together again. Actually, I still stand pretty amazed myself that out of the ashes of the hurt, disappointment to downright anger, resentment and bitterness, that God could restore love and even a genuine admiration and respect for one another. I keep telling Frank, "Shoot, after all that, the music should be the easy part."

Well, I'm gonna wrap it up. I'm running later than I wanted, with of course, more things to do than time to do it...(so what do I do? Blog :):)

We'll be back Tues night. Hope y'all enjoy your fourth, and if you think of it, all prayers are appreciated.

My husband's new invention

We met some friends for breakfast a few Sundays ago. I had to leave early because I was singing in another local church and they wound up spending another hour together and THAT's when it happened! What is that? That's when Frank, or somebody...and I don't think it was the wife of the other couple, came up with this new invention.
Unfortunately, I can't help but think that since I was the only one not in on this...that it was me who inspired this brainstorm.

Ok...here it is; it's called the "Conversation Piece." A wooden box that sits in the middle of the table and keeps track of how long each person is talking. When someone monopolizes the conversation, there is this obnoxious warning buzzer, which will, my husband feels, will only have to go off a few times before eventually keeping talking time more evenly distributed.

Frank has gone to the trouble of actually designing (on paper) a prototype, complete with 3D ears on each of the four panels, right above the LCD display of minutes 'talked'. On the drawing, just an example, I'm told...nothing personal, my side of the box shows 52 minutes. His 0.25 sec. Hmmmm...Of course, I wasn't convinced that this is going to make the millions proposed by my hubby...but, he says that someone told Bill Gates that no one would want a personal computer either.

Ok, so if you can't beat em, join em, I always say. So, what do you think about this? Forget the buzzer, why don't we create a restaurant, heck, a restaurant chain around the Conversation Piece and instead of a warning bell, the entire kitchen and wait staff can come to your table and chant "You talk too mu-uch, You talk too mu-uch...Give someone else a chance!" Sung to the tune of "la Cucaracha" (sp?)

Anyway, I'm feeling like this is a little bit elaborate scheme of my husbands to simply tell me that I talk too much, although he doesn't know the half of it, since Blogging is silent :) Yet, I have been known to be morbidly sensitive. So..hmmmm...who knows, maybe he's on to something;)

Me, Myself and McGee

One of those nightmare things you hope never happens...happened last night. I wrote a post for hours and went to publish...it said something about the "website not responding"....and poof! Hours of work lost in cyberspace...I tried refreshing...going back...nothing!!

Don't you hate that? In fact that's one of those things where Christian or not...I'm glad no one was in the room at the time. Cause then they'd be saying "Oh...and you're supposed to be a Christian???" That reminds me of that bumper sticker..."Have patience, Christian under construction." That sounds like "you need to forgive me for not living up to what I believe...I'm only human." I have a better one; "Don't Blame Jesus! I'm the Knucklehead Who Did It!"

Hey, sometimes, I admit it, I know full well the expectations on someone claiming to be a Christian and I give in anyway...maybe throw a temper tantrum, criticize or gossip. However, (and really, I'm not making excuses) there's this wierd transition between the "old" life, and the "after Christ" life, where you carry some of that old, bad stuff into the Christian journey like luggage.

Honestly, sometimes I hate to think that people are judging God by the stupid things I say and do. What a huge responsibility. That's why instead of a bumper sticker, maybe we should wear a disclaimer on our forehead, releasing Jesus of all responsibility when I make a mess of things.

That's another thing that was a total shock to the Christian life...before, you'd go around stumbling through things, if you made a mistake, you banged your head against the wall a few times and keep going...if somebody said something, you shot them a quick "hey,&#&% mind your own business!" But once you began to know HIM, learn compassion, learn to think differently, reason differently, and have this new compulsion to read the Bible, suddenly, you're expected by Christians and non-Christians to be on your best behavior every minute, every action counts and you're accountable to everybody, and believe me, EVERYBODY will give their opinion.

Like I said there's this wierd transition and though on the inside..your thoughts, your desires are all changing, there are some things that remain the same. For instance, I was a hairdresser when I became a believer. I'd been working at the same place for 11 years with lots of clients on my book. My gift of "hairdressing" didn't change, so even though some of them thought I'd totally freaked on them, they continued to come to me to get their hair done. One lady worked in a video store...it was 1989, remember when all that video stuff was fairly new? Well, she used to bring me bags of movies when they got rid of them. My kids loved this perk and always looked forward to it.

Now our whole family was going through this change and all kinds of things were suddenly occurring to me that I'd never given a thought to before. Like, I was starting to realize that just because something was packaged in a nice little video, it wasn't necessarily something my kids should be watching. But, movies were expensive and I certainly couldn't bring myself to just throwing them out...even though I remember making a mental "notice what kids are watching." A lot of new revelations in every detail of life were popping up everywhere.

Another new revelation was the Christian Bookstore. I never even knew these places existed. I remember being so excited to discover a whole sub-culture of Christian books and music. They even had Christian videos you could rent. At the time, there was ...McGee and Me. It had just come out. This was a series about a little blonde bouffant-head animated character who helped a real live boy through life's challenges. The cute little cartooned McGee was a kind of Jiminy Cricket, lending conscience through scripture to dilemma after dilemma. Great!! McGee would help me unteach my kids some of the stuff they'd already been exposed to. I rented them the entire series...anything to help me along in this new concept of 'good Christian mothering.'

The trouble with rentals...you've gotta take them back. So, to avoid a hefty late fee, I made sure to put that high on the 'to-do' list on my one day off. "Grab those McGee movies, Paul." I told my oldest son. "Are they all rewound?" I asked him as we got in the car. He assured me they were and I dropped them off with the new and unlikely friends I'd been making at the Christian Bookstore.

A few days later, as I was cleaning, a mixture of fear and panic set in as I ran accross a "McGee & Me" movie without a cover. What was in that box? Frantically I went through our videos and realized the only thing missing was our Disney Family Vacation, taken a few years back. "Oh, no...we weren't Christians then, I'm sure there's some questionable stuff on there...what will my new Christian friends think?"

"Umm..I feel so stupid," trying to joke around with the girl who answered the phone. "but, I think one of the McGee & Me boxes we returned might contain our family's vacation instead." I laughed. Ummmm...dead silence.

"No" The girl was not laughing..."it wasn't your family's vacation" she replied emotionless. My heart sunk as she related the horrible details; apparently, a Christian family had rented the series right after we did. Apparently, a more diligent and much wiser Christian mom had taken the time to preview even McGee & Me before allowing her kids to watch. Good thing! There was a boy and his sidekick alright...but, he was no McGee! The little animated star of this movie was named "Chuckie!" Suddenly, I saw my life pass before my eyes envisioning a little traumatized homeschooler screaming from nightmares of the little demon-possessed boy-doll of the popular horror flick. "Child's Play was in the box. We'd appreciate if you'd come and get it and bring in McGee & Me." the girl finished curtly. She might as well have said what she was thinking "...and you call yourself a Christian!"

All kinds of excuses came to me, like "How in the world did THAT horrible thing get in there?" but, I didn't bother. Simply said, "oh...um....you can just go on and throw that away." I think I had someone else take in the McGee movie and I never stepped foot in there again! It wouldn't be the last time some nasty thing from who I used to be would come creeping in and cross over into the who I am now. Only I now know that it's those things that motivate those who don't believe to just dismiss all of Christianity with a disgusted..."hypocrite!" just like I used to. Then there's your new Christian family who suddenly are appalled that you would do anything so dispicable. I know that God forgives me and understands. Still it's hard not to feel badly when you're aware of what people expect from someone who says they follow Christ. I feel bad that they're going to look at me who comes with all sorts of issues, when I wish they could look past me and right at Christ, who's perfect.

That's why I don't like that bumper sticker...you don't need to have patience with me, or I'm not perfect...just forgiven. If I really know Christ and His forgiveness, you don't need to have patience with me, you don't even need to forgive the stupid things I say and do. You're right, sometimes I AM actually being a hypocrite. Just don't blame HIM...please!!

Catching Up!

Wow! It's amazing how much happens in a week!

Keri's Birthday; It was great!!! In light of all the new developments in the Schiavo case...we are even more appreciative of celebrating her 30th year.
My only regret; we didn't have a video camera to record her "entrance". She rolled in on her motorized wheelchair after her dad told her they were going to some kind of 'crab-feast' or something like that. When she wheeled into the center of the room, it took her a second or two for it to register that everyone was talking to her when they gently said "Happy Birthday".(didn't want to scare her) THEN...she started realizing that she knew everyone. Keri looked around, screamed... kind of like ET...and spun that chair around, nearly running over her dad as she sped back out the door, half-laughing, half-screaming! It was hilarious...can't believe we didn't have a way to record that...

Food for party:couple hundred dollars -
Decorations - 149.50...
Keri speeding out of the place, screaming...priceless!!!! :)


Of course she came right back in and had a ball. Imagining her excitement didn't come close to the reality! My sister had asked me to sing: WHO I AM, by Jessica Andrews. OUr mom's name is Rosemary. So the lyrics to the chorus were especially poignant..

"I am Rosemary's grandaughter,
the spittin image of my father,
and when the day is done,
my mama's still my biggest fan.
Sometimes, I'm clueless and I'm clumsy,
but I've got friends who love me
they know just who I am."

It was hard to hold back the tears as Keri mouthed every single word (she can't really speak) as I sang them. THEN...the DJ and I played another song by Randy Travis, after I presented Keri a "signed birthday card" (I mailed him a letter and told him about her..so thanks Randy!) from "her favorite artist." She's already sent a note thanking him. She told him "he sure did miss a great party and should have been there!"

I have to agree! It was a great party!

Kind of crazy week though...from there I was called for jury duty and had to sit on a very serious case of "abduction and rape." Learned a lot about how our justice system works...the hard way!!! with way more graphic illustrations than anyone on the jury was comfortable with.

Sunday morning: led worship at a local church. The "band" consisted of friends I love dearly and don't get to spend much time with, so it was a double blessing! Then gave the Father's Day message to women at the local jail. That's always very humbling, I guess because the girls, for the most part, are so receptive, warm and seem so grateful. Some of them are so young, and seem frightened...you can't help but think of your own kids...when they cry...they just break my heart.

Oh...and my son, the one who tried that accupuncture stuff...he HAD to go and get antibiotics as he just couldn't kick the brochitis (threatening pneumonia, doc said) BUT...now that he's better, he's been testing those accupunture "allergy" treatments. He picked up and pet the cat, which he hasn't ever been able to do. No reaction!!! Also laid on the couch, which he couldn't do before because of allergies. No reaction!!! this week, he's being treated for 'mold'. By the way,
has anyone else ever tested around your house for mold? The doc told us to get these things at Home Depot. Mold Plates...actually little plastic containers. You pour in this gel, let it harden, then we sat one outside for 1 hour...I could have lived happily ever after without knowing the stuff that's growing in that petri dish! Good grief!!!

Keri's Birthday

Going up to Maryland this weekend to celebrate my neice's 30th birthday. Near Annapolis area...about 75 miles north of our neck of VA. Her mom, (my sis) rented a hall where she's going all out to make this an over-the-top special occassion. Special because 11 years ago, we didn't think she'd live to see it. That's when Dee's (my sis)only daughter, the oldest of two kids, walked into an emergency room complaining of a horrible headache, disorientation and numbness around her mouth...they made a quick diagnosis of MS, put her on massive doses of steroids and, though its much more complicated, I'm sure...in a nutshell...she proceeded to fall into a coma for the next few years, progressively getting worse and worse. This was the beginning of a nightmare for the entire family.

I know you've noticed on my profile, one of the blogs is "the starving of Terri Schiavo" This tragic situation brought back vivid memories of what we went through with Keri. In fact, those videos we saw all over TV? They looked EXACTLY like Keri in the early days of her illness. Worse than just the overall memories and video reminders was the horror of looking into Keri's face, and swearing we saw life...when all the experts swore it just wasn't there...that her responses and eye contact were all merely reflexes. I'm telling you, when I heard that Dr. death, who sealed Terri's death warrant, spew his propaganda that her responses (we clearly saw) to her mother were no different than "fingernails growing" I felt like snatching him through that television screen...ripping out his heart...and ...(oops) Ok, in a "Christian" loving sort of way:):):)

Seriusly, the whole Terri Schiavo thing still haunts me, as we now know that all these leading neurologists and other so called "experts" in Keri's case were wrong and we DID see life, recognition and awareness. She WAS responding, in complete opposition to what we were being told. Keri was also feeling pain when we were told that she absolutely felt nothing. How do we know???? Keri "told" us. How? #1, Keri didn't have a husband bent on killing her and #2, she had parents who fought relentlessly for their daughter, despite what "experts" were telling them. AND...despite the humiliating, condescending attitude of SOME (not ALL) med professionals who said things to my sister like "we're worried about you" "you're being selfish" "let her go" "you're in DENIAL"...and one who actually slammed his fist on the table to Dee's request that he might try something else. "You're going to have to face it!!! Your daughter came here to die!!" He yelled.

So what happened? Well, this is a really short version, but, after winning a court order to have her seen by a doctor,3 states away, willing to re evaluate her, she was taken...stiff and in the fetal position, by ambulance. Upon re evaluation, she was taken off steroids completely, re treated for LYME's Disease and began to respond. Of course it's been a very, very long road to the point she's at now. At first she "spoke" through a computer. But...even though she could only make noises at that time, I was astounded how much of Keri was in there...when I asked her about her treatments and asked "what are you learning?" She looked right at me, touched her screen and the mechanical, computerized voice quipped "STOP SLOBBERING" We all cracked up and she just threw her head back laughing.

Keri laughs a lot. That's the thing we could understand about the Terri Schiavo case, that just didn't come through in the news. The thing that made it so sad. They were judging everything on who she had been. We know by experience, that Keri, although still confined to a wheelchair and is difficult to understand, loves her life. I remember watching her, interacting with her, thinking..."God is so amazing...there is something about the human make-up that will adjust and allow contentment in the most extreme things." While no one would specifically ask to be in such a state, we have an incredible desire to live...with anything." I think it's love. Suddenly, things get way less complicated and it seems, in Keri's case, at least that the joy of the simple things sustains. She brings as much joy to all of us close to her. I believe God teaches love at it's deepest level when we are able to serve one another in our need. There are gentle intimacies and tenderness we could not experience any other way. What if we were all strong and all our needs were met? We think THAT would make us happy, but, I don't know....I fear that would make us all so self-consumed, I'm thinking we'd be unfit to be around.

That's what I found so heartbreaking & disturbing about the Schiavo case. The mom clearly knew the "new Terri" in all her simple need. She had the motherly instinct to care for her, protect her at her weakest but...was legally banned from it. By court order, she could not even so much as put an ice chip on her daughter's lips as they dried from lack of hydration. You know, in a normal hospice situation, they would never keep water and hydration from a person, it's way too uncomfortable and it would not prevent the death, because they were really dying. In this case, the lack of water was the 'cause of death.' It's still unbelievable to me that this could happen.

That whole thing just makes everyone in the family appreciate Keri all the more. Oh..I know there will always be those who look at her, as they did Terri Schiavo and say..."Sheesh, I wouldn't want to live like that." But...unless you've been there, you just don't know...you just don't know.

Anyway, I hope both of you...(that is how many of you read this, isn't it??) Hi JOJO! have a great weekend!

Couple of things!

Thought I was over all the 'addictions' in my life, but...think I can now add 'blogging' to the list. Does anyone else have this problem? Keep thinking "Sheesh, where does all my time go?" Then I wonder (only for a second) if I wouldn't be a lot more productive without spending so much time on this computer? Honestly, even if I can't put two thoughts together for my own post...it's hard to believe how time flies while reading others. Maybe it's the same thing that attracts us to 'reality TV - It's like "reality-computer" or something.

Today my problem isn't what to write, it's too much to write, so I'll try to "focus." Something I'm not good at and getting worse with age:) Or maybe it's this so-called Fibro-my-foot, sorry...myalgia...if I believed that stuff...anyway, I'd really like some input on a couple things;


#1 I'm waiting to go back to the doctor with my middle son. He's 23, been sick most of his life. Not serious, deadly sick, but..ear infections. Respiratory stuff, sinus infections, just all over flu-like things. I've been sick a lot too, since Hepatitus C...Interferon injection treatments, so out of sheer desperation, and tons of doctors who prescribe mega antibiotics, anti-depressants, anti-anxiety, anti-siezure, arthritis, steroids & pain meds...just all kinds of hit or miss 'try this" try that, etc, etc, etc, So...we tried diet...which does sort of make you feel better, but...it's depressing to think of never being able to eat bread or yeast/gluten products or taste another thing with sugar in it. Read the backs of everything...what doesn't have some of that stuff in it?

Anyway...a friend has been telling me about this doctor that does accupuncture treatments for allergies. It's GUARANTEED to "pinpoint" (no pun intended) your allergies and rid your body of them. We like to say round here that some things "sound the KA-KA alert!" This seemed like one of those things. BUT...my poor kid has suffered so often and so badly with ear aches, swolen sinuses and all over flu-like achiness (he's had tubes in his ears 3 X and he's lived on antibiotics all of his life, which seem to be absolutely worthless) that today, we sucked it up and went to see this doctor. She tested him (by this computer-machine) and he's very, very allergic to molds and GLUTEN...we had to come home, gather samples of things he's eating containing wheat, gluten, etc. and she's going to give him his first treatment this evening. SO...we'll see.


Ok, we went and not only has he been questioning himself on being desperate enough to go with these 'strange' treatments, but THEN poor thing had to explain it to the rest of the family. Everybody is so sceptical, they're not making it easy. Guess only time will tell. Meanwhile, next treatment is on Thursday.


Anyway...thing number two will have to wait...can't keep my eyes open...and spent way too much time reading how many "naughty's" were sent to "time-out" on another blog. I'm not going to go there tomorrow, I'm not going to go there tomorrow....I'm not...

Another Rainy day in Virginia

Singing at a graduation ceremony today...outside. The weather is nasty and my throat hurts. Does it sound like I'm whining? I am. Looking forward to tomorrow, Joseph is speaking at church. This is the guy I talked about in another post. "Real Christianity" Also tomorrow is my first day at going into "medical" at the jail. Not really sure what to expect, but heard that some of the inmates in "medical" are there for mental health issues...even suicidal. Have to admit...feeling a little apprehensive...(but, also passionate)

We'll see how it goes. Post more later...

Defined By Love

In an earlier post, "What's Your Story?" I was talking about the "stories" of our lives and how our life experiences not only form our opinions of the world around us, but wind up defining "who" we are. It's true; our self-concept is basically acquired during childhood. Children left alone, watching things, people and family become very self-focused. Without the truth or reality that we are part of something larger, we are consumed with our own thoughts, and thoughts focused solely on self will be destructive; I am worthless, useless and everything is MY fault. Some of us will be totally controlled by the opinions of others. Some of us will worship human approval - BUT...no matter how much we get, or how much we're loved by another person, it's never enough.

This is the truth in every human being; our thoughts precede and determine our behavior and our emotions. In other words, a person cannot truly change by simply altering their behavior. WE may DO things differently, but inside, we remain the same. You know what else determines our behavior? Our wants and desires. We learn very early what we want/desire and will DO what it takes to GET it. In that book, THE SACRED ROMANCE, (talked about it in the earlier post)John Eldridge, the author, challenges the reader that no matter how difficult or awful our past is, we can each find something that inspired or moved us. Something...a scene in a movie, the words of a song, the memory of a special person attracted us because of the built in craving to be loved, to be accepted. Built in because we're born with it. Created with it by God who is also the only One who can fill it.

It's true; our heart/soul/spirit was meant to focus solely on GOD, which brings complete peace, wholeness...satisfaction, etc. We, however, (even Christians) would rather focus on anything but. Even if we struggle through the more destructive wants and desires with more blatant consequences...we are constantly realizing new ones...that daggone need to be right, craving to be respected and approved of will creep up on the 'religious' of the religious. In fact, all this had an incredible impact on my relationship with my mom. Here I am a grown woman, able to speak to crowds, minister to other women... coming so far in healing and growing so strong in faith, yet one nasty word from my mother could set me back so far, so fast it could make my head swim. Then I'd beat myself up for striking back defensively. What a vicious cycle...til learning the root of it. The root being; the need for respect and approval from my mother was much stronger or more powerful than my need or focus on God.

What a breakthrough, before looking fully at the truth, I found that I'd do or say whatever it took to avoid confrontation with her. It became even easier to avoid her altogether. This is relationship based on a lie. Lies bind; truth frees! In John 8:32, Jesus says "Then you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free." This is the 'good news' of the gospel; Jesus said about himself that He was sent to "proclaim freedom for the prisoners and recovery of sight for the blind and to release the oppressed..." When I could truly confront myself with truth; my own obsession or insatiable desire to be loved (my way) by her, it was absolute freedom. I was able to finally face this relationship through the filter of God's love for both of us and see her as a fellow human being with her own struggles, fears and issues.

Anyway, back in the "Stories" post, I described a picture of myself, dressed for Halloween as Wilma Flintstone, puffing on a cigarette with a huge poster on the wall that read; "S$#t happens" a perfect illustration of one who found themselves defined by the messages of the world. I thought I had life all figured out and it was bleak.

BUT...I'm here to tell ya, I was wrong! Life is not a random set of circumstances. S#$T doesn't just happen! I was looking for hope in everything but God, but everything else dissapoints. Every detail, every experience of life is orchestrated. The God who made us directs and guides, leading eventually to the place where where our faith will rest totally in Him. Yet, this picture of "Wilma" was a person who'd come many times to that place of dissapointment, hopelessness, and despair and instead of calling out to the One who says "Come to me all you who are burdened and I will give you rest"...to the One who offered life to the full, who offered a hope and a future" Instead...I'd pick myself up, dust myself off and vow...NEVER to be hurt again...each time shutting off my heart a little more...

How bout you? When you really think about it, how do you define yourself? By the messages of your experiences with others, the hurt, the anger, the disappointment? As Christians, we cross this invisible but powerful line that says we're to be defined by the truth; That truth will set you free. What is truth? It's found in the love letter to you, written by the One who made you..."You are precious in my sight" "I have loved you with an everlasting love" "I knew you before you were formed" The most freeing truth? You're forgiven and you can start brand new. There's nothing like it, no other religion offers such an incredible gift. I have a friend who insists that SHE can't be forgiven. "God so loved THE WORLD that He gave His only begotten Son..." you know the rest. That's HUGE...yet, my friend says SHE can't be forgiven. What she's really saying is that she's taken a look at what she percieves as "church people" and she can't be like them or accepted by them. I know, I had that same hopeless perception. BUT...I was excited to find that Christianity was not Potlucks, Sunday socials, political opinions and fundraisers...It's life or death. We're called to hope in an "unseen" world that's bigger and more impacting than the world we CAN see. We're invited to know the "unknowable". You cannot look at "The Cross" and deny that you are loved fiercely by God, no matter what your story.

Memorial Day!

Memorial Day weekend is probably no different in Fairview Beach, where I live, than any other part of the country...the official kickoff of summer. Only we live in a small (two hundred homes or so) "beach/water community" so it's like people are sitting with boats already attached to their cars, watching, waiting for the end of the grey, dismal and isolating cloud of winter to the bright, cheery and social sunny days of summer.

This Memorial Day was a little different for many of us though. An incredibly loved and well-known young man from our county lost his life this past year in Iraq. Sadly, just a few days before Christmas, as Job says in the bible "The thing we feared, came upon us" when one of ours was included in the 22 victims of the first suicide bomber to penetrate a US army base Mess Hall in Mosul, Iraq. Suddenly, the war was personal and what seemed like the entire county joined together over the next few days at prayer vigils and memorials for 20 year old Nicholas Mason.

So, before picking up all the trimmings for our own Memorial Day cookout, Julie (my daughter) and I paid our respects at the families memorial for their son carved out of a wooded lot on their property. A place where he loved to play now bears a headstone with a picture of Nick standing on the bumper of an army vehicle. His dad said he was singing something while behind him a cache of discovered weapons is being blown up. It's really an awesome picture. It was so hard to hold back the tears as we were warmly welcomed and thanked by Nicks mom & dad. I don't think any parent could not imagine themselves being in these shoes.

We went on to grab stuff for the traditional hot-dog and hamburger fest. OUr kids invited some friends over and it ocurred to me that two of the four young people who came to our house last night have been to Iraq, so it was hard to celebrate Memorial Day, without truly considering, probably for truly the first time, what this day was meant to be. As we laughed and enjoyed the conversation and stories, I couldn't help but think that we only have the freedom to celebrate because of the sacrifices of so many soldiers and their families in these relatively short hundreds of years.

It's hard not to feel helpless when you dwell on it too much. About a month ago, I stumbled on "www.soldiersangels.com" Guess I was looking for a way to support the troops and wound up "adopting" Rachel, a young female soldier stationed in Al Ramadi, Iraq. I was excited to get to know her and send her care packages, etc... but, admit to feeling a little tinge of panic or fear when she sent pictures of herself and her friends there with her. Laughing, joking around, celebrating a buddy's birthday, my God, they're just kids...you forget. Guess it's easier not to dwell on it or see these numbers on the ticker tape running across the screen on the news and not be moved. Her pictures definately make it more personal. She says she's probably going to be there til Christmas, I think. I pray she'll be going home safe.

Well, just wanted to share my thoughts on Memorial Day. And say "thank you" to Nick's parents. You gave it all! "Greater love has no one than this; that He lay down his life for his friends."

It's almost June and STILL Freezing!

What is up with this weather? It feels more like the North Pole than Virginia. Sitting here with socks & sweats with a jacket and I'm still cold. I don't think it's ever going to get warm. I was looking for something to wear to a wedding and gravitated toward the winter clothes. Just thinking about wearing one of those little chiffon-looking dresses gave me goose bumps. I haven't bought a dress, or worn one for that matter, in so long...they all look like nightgowns or lingerie. I asked a salesgirl if she had anything to go under this cute little blue jacket. She handed me a multi-colored silk camisole topped with 2 inches of black lace. As I'm looking around, I realize they all look like that. "Do you have anything that doesn't look like I'm wearing my underwear?" I asked her. "Not much." I think I've been out of the loop as far as clothes go.


Well, I'd hoped to post a continuation...or conclusion of the previous post. Learning about being defined by the messages of others helped me understand why I think the way I think and feel the way I feel. The best news for me was to realize through faith in Christ, I can move on from the wounds and painful messages of others...

Anyway...as usual, so much to write...so little time. We're leaving in the morning for New Jersey, so won't get back to it til Monday. Enjoy the weekend. Hope it warms up...til then, I'm

Still..."Freezing in VA" :)

What's Your Story?

If you read the previous post, you might have already figured out that the little girl in the story was based on my own experiences growing up. Explosive outbursts of violence with more than one of the step-fathers of our childhoods were pretty much the norm and caused more hellish and chaotic nights than it seems that kids (my brothers and sister) should have to endure.

In his book, the Sacred Romance, John Eldridge basically said that everyone of us are in the middle of this huge 'epic'. He used the two little dwarves, elves...whatever those little guys in the "Lord of the Rings" are to illustrate: They'd just been through harrowing adventures and lost their beloved mentor when one makes the comment to the other something to the effect of "I wonder what sort of tale we've been dropped into?" It's like he just knew they were in the middle of something way bigger than themselves. The author then asks the reader; how about you? Do you feel that life is just a random series of circumstances and events or are we a part of a grander design, in the middle of an incredible story?

I guess I always thought that life was some random series of 'gloom' doom and bad "luck of the draw", karma or something. I remember saying on more than one occasion, "I must have done something bad in another life to deserve this mess." What the author went on to say is that we are molded or 'defined' by the messages of those closest to us. For me, right off the bat, my father's abandonment before I was even born handed down this feeling of insignificance & worthlessness. I mean if the father who conceived you didn't want you or love you, then why would anyone else? Along the way, my mom's own desperate quest for love & relationships became fiercely violent and abusive. Do you know what living in fear of explosive outbursts, that could suddenly and unexpectedly come out of nowhere, for no apparent reason will do to a kid or the adult that kid becomes? It develops a sort of "survival mentality" where you live fearful and distrustful of other people, always aware of a 'real' or percieved threat from another. You learn at a very young age, that you are not safe. Living with violence and the result of it brings such inconsistancy that you learn to compensate for the fact that there's really no on you can count on!

And that's just the childhood. All that stuff continues to grow and maybe you'll marry the same exact person and live the same exact life...or....you'll vow to live differently. Intend to stay married and live happily ever after. Boy is there a rude awakening! Quick! Many of us put way, way too much hope in a relationship. For me, never developing any sense of worth or significance left me vulnerable to the men in my life and subject to their reactions or approval. In other words, when they were pleased with me, life was good and I was happy. When they were angry, moody or abusive, it MUST be my fault, so life takes a nosedive. When you think about it, suppose the 'other' in the relationship never develops a sense of significance or worth either? What a mess! It's almost inevitable, you wind up feeling betrayed and disappointed. Where does that lead? Well, if you're like most, you wise up and really "see the writing on THIS wall;" there really is NO ONE you can count on. Anger, resentment, bitterness settle in and maybe not consiously, but as far as your heart is concerned, you make this VOW to never leave yourself vulnerable or trust again and maybe you don't leave physically, but, the protective wall of cynicism and sarcasm becomes inpenetratable. There is this picture I have of myself, when I worked in the beauty salon. It was halloween and I'm dressed as Wilma Flinstone, a big puff of white smoke in front of my face, from the cigarette I just took a drag of. A huge red sign hangs on the wall right behind me. In giant bold white letters it reads; S&%* Happens! What a perfect illustration of the resignation that this is as good as it gets and I'm powerless to change it.

The author calls this resignation a "loss of heart." Phychiatrists call it various forms of depression. We have more programs, medications and 'how-to' self-help manuals to deal with this stuff today than ever before and still the problem grows. He explains first that the "heart" is the very center of our being. It's where all of thoughts, motives, emotions and attitudes stem from. Its how we think what we think, feel what we feel. When the heart is deluged and crowded with all these abuses, betrayals, bad memories....all messages that we've allowed to define us, it can almost be tricked into believing that's who we are. BUT...in between, for every single one of us, no matter how bad life has treated us, there are these tiny sparks of inspiration sprinkled throughout our past. For me, it was a "mommom and Poppop" (grandma & grandpa) who I adored spending time with. Sometimes, in the chaos of our life, I'd wind up temporarily living with them. Poppop would rock with laughter when I would try and con them. I'd ask one for milk money when the other had just given it to me. My grandpa thought that was cute and I knew without a doubt, I delighted him. Mommom was stern and didn't laugh much, but there was something about her touch, her taking me shopping, laying out my clothes or walking me to school that provided a security I wasn't always used to. Later,in my high school years, there was a teacher, Miss L, who saw beyond the hooking school, coming to class high, the lack of participation and to my complete and utter surprise, took an interest in my life, encouraged me and remains a dear friend today.

In a day when TV choices were few, I can remember the impact of programs and movies. Admiring the seemingly normalcy of TV families and couples. I know it was fantasy, but I remember it brought an escape and hope that people didn't all live like we were living. An English class field trip to see "Romeo & Juliet" left me with unforgetable memories. This passionate fairy tale about two lovers willing to die rather than live without each other motivated all the girls in the class to read every detail of the two young actors. We wanted so badly to believe it was possible. Then there's the old Shirley Temple movies...remember them? When the "Little Princess" found her daddy. When "Heidi" found her grandpa. When the "Little Colonal" got her parents back together...I could go on and on. BUT...my point? The author's point? Every one of us have these passions, desires and desperate need to be needed, wanted and loved. The "Loss of heart" that many experience today is the hopelessness when we conclude with resignation that beyond the struggles and lifelong search for what we say is dignity, validation, happiness or justice, this; is as good as it gets.

Where does that come from? Where did we get these desires in the first place? You were born with them. We were all born with them. God Himself created you with the incredible desire to be loved. If we're honest, we all are desperately attracted to stories of unconditional, fulfilled love. We're drawn to reconciled relationships and passionate romances. Some will never admit that no matter where we come from, how bad life has treated us, we somehow just know this is true, in fact, I remember seeing something on Oprah and hearing her tell a guest that she couldn't remember one good thing about her childhood. But..this woman makes her living on knowing what jerks and tugs at heartstrings. Did she just figure that out on her own? No, she had to first figure out what moved and inspired her own heart. Did that originate with her? No, she just didn't fall into some magical formula that worked to make her millions. Oprah is a gazillionare because we were created to be inspired and moved by love. BUT...He's also the ONLY ONE who can fulfill that desire...and we would rather look anywhere else but God.

So...how about you? I'd love to hear your thoughts on this. What's your story. I know one woman whose life was consumed and defined by the haunting words of her own mother telling her she was ugly and unwanted. She has since reconciled with God, and realizes that her mom was mentally ill, merely hanging on by a thread with her own desperate struggles. What were your messages? How is your life defined?