A new A - Z

I find it interesting that my last posts were my A-Z stories.

Tonight I am thinking of A-Z in a whole new way. Take the logo for Amazon for instance, there is an arrow which forms a smile from the letters a and z, meaning they happily provide everything you would possibly need, from a-z.  However, what I am really thinking of tonight is another a-z,  quite actually the Greek alphabet's version of such.  Alpha - Omega.  The beginning and the end.  Ironically, in some odd way my two examples of A-Z have merged recently in my life.

A couple of weeks ago, I found on Amazon a free digital book for my Kindle. It is a new release, written by Joni Eareckson Tada.  It is a book about healing.  I found this book on the very day I was having an ultrasound which would prove to show something unwanted growing in my body.  A few days later, also on Amazon, I run across another free book, this one by Ravi Zacharias, detailing how God has woven the details of our lives. 

Now some would say it is merely coincidence that I would run across both of these books at this time in my life, but I choose to believe that God had a hand in this.  God is the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end.  As I walk through a new medical trial in my life I know that this is where my strength will come.  

Both books have taught me much in such a short time , and yes, I am reading them at the same time.  Joni's book (first name basis?) has taught me that while I may seek physical healing for this thing hidden in my body, I should at the same time be seeking spiritual healing for the things I choose to keep hidden. As you pray for me, pray for my complacency, my negativity, my selfishness and so much more that needs refined.   Mr. Zacharias is teaching me that I should not fear these days of my life, because they have already been woven by God in His wisdom.  

Amazon has marketed well their ability to provide all we think we need, but in all reality, they can not.  All I need is provided by my faith and my relationship with my God. My Alpha and Omega. 

Z is for Zoltar

Z is for Zoltar....

Odd thing to post I know, but you must agree that my choices are limited.  The reason I chose Zoltar is because it brings up a very prominent family memory.
In 1988 the very popular movie, Big, starring Tom Hanks came out. Our boys were young, Jake was 5 and Joel was only 3.   After a while it was released on VHS, and by that time Joel was probably 4 years old.  We did not have  cable TV at that time, so for entertainment, we would rent or borrow movies from the library. Because of our TV situation we often found ourselves watching the same movies over and over again. A parent can only watch The NeverEnding Story or  Harry and the Hendersons so many times.

I asked our sister-in-law if she felt the movie, Big would be appropriate for the boys. I was desperate for something new.
Now, I must tell you that also during this period of our lives, I was a stay-at-home mom and had many opportunities to discuss our values and beliefs with both of our sons.  I called them teachable moments, and they popped up everywhere.  One day, on our way to the grocery,  the subject of hell, or at least the word hell came up.  I was not sure how or why it came up, but I reminded my 4 year old, (Joel) that we do not say that word unless we are talking about the place.  He seemed to get it, and I felt I had done a good job explaining the difference between the noun "hell" and the cuss-word "hell". He seemed to accept that it is only okay to say it if we are talking about the place. I repeated that to him a few times and was at ease.

Back to Zoltar...and the movie.

After clearing the movie with my much respected sister-in-law, we rented it, popped our popcorn and settled in for a nice family evening.  For much of the movie, I was not concerned at all.  There were a few hints of things that the boys did not pick up on, and things were going well.  The one part our sister-in-law failed to mention was a time when Billy's friend goes into the office of Billy's boss and one of them utters the phrase "a**hole".   This is NOT something that Steve or I ever say, so we were quite worried about having the boys hear that in a movie.  As I was preparing a little speech in my head as to what to say to the boys, Joel immediately makes a connection between our conversation at the grocery and the line in the movie. ( how he connected them, I will never know)
But...as soon as the phrase was uttered, Joel turned to us and said, "It's okay to say that if you are talking about one..."

Now, thinking about the "wisdom" (flawed as it might be), in that statement from a four year old is mind blowing.  I guess it is true what they say about "out of the mouth of babes"

Y is for...yams

Y is for yams.  I love them.  Steve does not.  That is all I have to say about the letter Y.

X is for reX

X is for reX


I know that  had to stretch myself a bit to come up with this letter, and I would prefer to post nothing before I am prepared.  Finally I am prepared. It will take a bit of introduction to get to my point, but bear with me.
     Currently Steve and I are at an Indianapolis hospital, caring for his mom who had surgery.  I took over her care when Steve's brother, sister-in-law, and then his sister had to leave.  I have been here for 5 days and 4 nights.   
     Hospitals are both wonderful and awful places.  Mom's care has been superb, and we have no complaints in that department. However, a 5 star hotel for family members, it is not.  I have made the best of the situation though, and the nursing staff  has been wonderful in meeting many of my own needs.  
     After about day 3 though, exhaustion sets in (could have taken a "x" from that word as well).  My mind was less clear, my body weary, and my emotions running wild.  I have such a new appreciation and understanding for the young parents that have to endure this; sometimes for months.
     Yesterday was particularly rough.  Mom experienced some post surgical side effects that I, by myself, and running on empty was not able to handle. I was breaking down, I knew it, and I also knew I needed help if I were to be any good for Mom.  Thankfully, Steve arrived at about 8:30 local time.  We went for a quick bite to eat, then returned to the hospital.  Since I was not thinking clearly, I decided against getting a hotel room at that moment because I thought as late as it was, we would save money by tag teaming in recliners or the cot in Mom's room.    Steve took the cot, and I went off to search for a recliner.  Thing is, I was just too tired to relax in that recliner.  After returning to the room a few times, and emotionally breaking down when a security guard asked if I was okay, I finally decided after midnight that the price of a hotel would be the best present I could give myself.  I was driven to the hotel by another hospital security guard, and I checked in.


Ahhh, the power of a shower and un-interupped sleep.  


Now, finally, we come to the letter X, almost.


     The hotel where I stayed provides a service for folks such as me.  We are able , without pay, to reserve a regular room to take a nap or shower. They give you 1 1/2 hours, then you simply turn in the key and return to the hospital.  I took advantage of this on Monday and it was such a blessing.  I was so impressed with this service, and so grateful that I wanted to pay somebody something.  The hotel will not accept it, yet this thought remained in my mind.
     As I left my room this morning, I passed a woman, who had obviously been recently injured (arm in cast, limping, multiple bruises). I then requested a shuttle back to the hospital, as did she.  We were told that the shuttle was running very late so I called Steve and asked him to drive over to get me.  I also asked if he could drive someone else back too.
     In the little time we were waiting for Steve, I learned quite a lot about Melanie and REX.  They are married, and drive their own big rig for a living. Melanie was at the wheel on interstate 74 when Rex decided to take over.  As he got up to move to the cab from the sleeper, he stumbled,. Melanie took 1 hand off the wheel to try to help him, and Rex without thinking, grabbed for the side of the wheel for something to hold on to.  This split second decision caused their lives to be turned upside down.  Melanie lost control, laid  the rig down on it's right side and then lost consciousness.  When she came to she realized that Rex had been thrown from the truck and was in the median with paramedics. Alive, yet much more serious than she, they both were flown to this hospital.  Melanie  has had surgery, and while still healing from injuries, she will be okay. The road to recovery will be longer for Rex, as he is still in ICU.  Melanie and Rex are from Ohio, they were headed with a load of furniture to California, where in fact, all of their kids live.  They now find themselves in a strange city, and in circumstances they never imagined.
     I listened to Melanie, and was actually drawn into her story,  feeling as if I was truly invited into their lives. She needed to tell her story, and quite honestly, I needed to hear it.  It is easy, in the midst of your own trials, and fatigue to forget others, and to become so self focused.  
     At that moment, I felt a nudging, which many times is overlooked.  This time though, I could not deny it.  I reached into my purse, and pulled out some money, not much, yet just enough to at least buy a couple of meals. She resisted at first, but I explained about my free shower earlier in the week and how God told me to find someone to "pay it forward", I then told her, she was the one. 
     Finally Steve pulled up, and we dropped Melanie off at the door before finding our parking space.  As we walked back up to the entrance I realized that this is a big hospital, with many rooms, and every one has a Rex or a Melanie. In every room someone's life has been turned upside down.  I then asked God to place His mighty Hands over this place and bring comfort into these lives.
     I wonder though, how many times I have ignored a Rex or a Melanie.  We ask someone how they are. They say fine.  We know they are not really, but we leave it at that.  I think that in reality, our lives would be so much more in perspective if we took these moments to invest in the lives of others.  
     I am reminded of this scripture:
"But they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint."  Isaiah 40:31
I have read before (sorry I cannot remember who said it) that just perhaps the word "wait" in this passage is not what we think, that maybe instead of being thought of as passive, such as sitting back and being patient, and waiting on God to do something, that maybe it is a very active verb.  Perhaps it is waiting on God such as a waitress waits on us.  That when we are actively serving God, then He will re-new our strength.  And, perhaps, this was realized in my life today.  Only after I stepped outside of myself, and found someone to minister to in God's name, have I been renewed.
    I am glad I waited to write about the letter X until it involved a lesson from God.
  
     We we see both how long it takes for Y and Z, and what God has in mind for them.

W is for Why?

W is for Why?

It has been a long time since I posted, I thought I would zip straight through the alphabet. Who would think I would get hung up on the letter “W”? There are so many good W words.

Wait

Worry

Want

Walter

And, many more I could have chosen.

Nothing motivated me, nothing struck a chord. Today, on a day when I have so many emotions fighting for exposure, it hits me.

WHY

Such a small word.

I remember when our oldest was just a little boy. He was consumed with this word. He was not content with simple answers, but wanted to know the “why” in every circumstance. His “whys” varied from: why he didn’t get his way in a particular instance, to the more complex “whys”. Why does the light switch actually turn on a light? Why does thunder roar? Why does the water come out of the kitchen sink. His “whys” were soon muddled with “hows”, and he became full of wonder. After my futile attempts to answer such questions, and after a day when all I did was repeatedly answer, I came up with a solution to appease both of us. When I could no longer satisfy him, I would just tell him that I did not know, and that we would have to ask Uncle Jim. This was a stroke of brilliance on my part. Jake would patiently wait until the next time my brother stopped by, and then bombard him with his saved up questions. I remember clearly the day that Jim sat at our dining room table and drew out a diagram, complete with circuits and breakers, to explain that there is a lot going on inside the walls behind the light switch. He convinced Jake that turning on a light really isn’t magic.

It is odd, that as grown ups, our “whys” are not so easily answered.

Today, I am struggling with a “why” that Uncle Jim cannot solve.

On this day, another little boy, one that I am sure was full of “whys” and full of wonder, has gone to live with Jesus. He lost his battle with a serious illness and after just 5 years on this earth, and has left a terrible void in the lives of those who love him.

I did not know this boy. I knew his father and his father’s family, I knew some of his mother’s family, and I had met his mother. Not knowing him has not made this any easier to understand. I have still asked why.

If you have followed my blog, you know that I am a Christian. You know that I do not blame God for things that I have endued. You know that I continue to love and trust Him. But, does that always mean I understand Him?

No.

There are many scriptures that bring comfort, but not complete understanding. Yet, I realize that we only hold a small piece of the puzzle, and must wait to see the complete picture.

It is not my brother that I wait for to explain the answers, yet a loving Father. One who knit this little boy in his mother’s womb, one that knew everything about him. A loving Father who has numbered our hairs, and our days.
I may not know the answer to this “why” while I live on this earth, but I am patiently waiting for my visit with my Father, when I will sit with Him and ask Him all of my saved up questions.

At the top of my blog is a quote. It has hung out there for a long time. I am drawn to it often:

"Today I am one day nearer home than ever before. One day nearer the dawning when the fog will lift, mysteries clear, and all question marks straighten up into exclamation points! I shall see the King!" (Vance Havner)

My “whys” will be answered.

V is for Vodou (Voodoo)

is for Vodou (Haitian name for voodoo)

Now, the first thing I want to say is that I do not practice or have any belief in voodoo, but it does bring up a strong memory. I feel that by including this in my blog, it will be a reminder to me of Haiti's greatest need.

In 1993, after watching the slides from missionaries that were based in Haiti, I had a strong urge to go there. I honestly felt such a calling, if you will, to leave my family and be part of a team from our church that was going on a 2 week trip to assist the mission already based there. I told my husband that it was not that I really wanted to leave, but that I wanted to go. I have rarely felt so strongly that I was supposed to do something as I did then. It was in July, and I traveled with the second group from our church. Most had left a few days before, but due to some prior commitments, 4 of us traveled later.

Here I was, arriving in Haiti, when I had barely traveled anywhere else. This would be my first real plane ride, and many other firsts. I must admit that the first day there, I wondered what I was getting myself into. I developed a serious migraine on that first day, and wondered if I could make it.

As the days went on I knew I was supposed to be there, yet I still was realizing that our cultures are so very different. Everything was different, the poverty, the lack of communication abilities, the landscape, and the religion.

One night in particular, while we were trying to sleep (we slept on the roof of the mission on cots due to the heat) we could hear voodoo drums in the distance. That was definitely a strange experience for me, and to be honest , I felt evil around me. I prayed very hard that night, Although I knew that my God is greater than any evil around me, I needed to speak His name over and over for my own peace. I also prayed for the people of Haiti. We think sometimes that their biggest problem is their poverty, and that groups go there just to meet physical needs. We see and hear often of humanitarian groups that provide food, and medical help. Yes, these are real needs, and the poverty was overwhelming. But their greatest need is for the Lord God to rescue them from the evil that is all around them.

It has been many years since I returned from that trip, and to be honest, I do not think of these people as often as I should. There have been quite a few people that I know that have gone on similar trips since then, and each time it causes me to remember Haiti. I hope that somehow the focus of this post will also help me, and perhaps for those of you who read it will remember the Haitian people as well.

U is for Ugly

is for Ugly.

Now, I must admit that the letter U had me stumped for a very long time. Well over a month. I did not want to go with umbrella, or unicorn, or anything starting with "un". I had to wait until something inspired me. With the current heat wave I am not getting inspired by much, so the challenge was great.

Today it hit me:
Ugly.

Not the word you would expect me to devote a post to. This blog is about the "Silver Lining", and the whole concept of that is supposed to be positive. Is there anything positive in such a word as ugly?

I think so.

The first thing I think of is the old adage, "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder". Well, isn't the same true with ugly? Be it dogs, decor, or even people, we all have different ideas about which one is pretty or ugly.

I have a scar.

It is quite large, and in reality is shaped much like the letter U. By the world's standards it is undesirable, unattractive, and ugly (three Us). But think about this. That one scar on my body is a reminder of the grace of God, a reminder of surviving what I later learned was a cancer that was very much not in my favor, and very much a smile from God. (You can read about 'A smile from God" here)

During our summer youth conference we sometimes have a small group ice breaker called "show me your scar". It is amazing that people young and old really like the opportunity to tell the story about their physical scars. You will hear stories about bicycle accidents, sports injuries, and surgeries. There is something about talking openly about what people are taught never to discuss or question. It is rather "freeing". It seems to turn what one would think of as being ugly into a story. I just happen to have a visible scar close enough to my face that makes it seem a taboo subject to talk about.

I will admit that in the weeks following surgery, I was quite concerned about the appearance of this scar, and even blogged about my thoughts regarding it. You can read those initial thoughts here. But as time has passed and admit-tingly, as the scar and my opinion of it have improved, I realize that is is quite beautiful in many ways.

I do not think of it as ugly anymore. Truth be told, sometimes I forget I have it, and sometimes it takes me noticing that someone else, a stranger, is fixated on it before I stop to think about it.

I have taken this to heart. When I see a scar on someone else, especially if it is large, or facial, or what some would call dis-figuring, I try to remember that there is a story behind it. That perhaps that scar has saved their life, that perhaps that scar is a reminder of a serious event that has changed them, but I will never think it as being ugly.

If ugly is also in the eye of the beholder. Let's behold beauty instead.

T is for Teaching

is for teaching

I am not technically a "teacher".
-But I teach. I have been a teaching assistant with our district for 16 years. In high school I was in the Future Teachers of America club, but I did not really want to be a teacher. I wanted to be a dentist. I decided though, midway through my senior year that I would go to Bible College and possibly teach Christian Education in a church setting.

Things changed again, and I returned home in the middle of my junior year for a number of reasons. My mother was seriously ill, and that is where I needed to be. Strange though, because my first job after getting married had nothing to do with teaching, but instead had everything to do with dentistry. I worked for an orthodontist for over 5 years.

Then after a few years staying at home with our boys, I returned to the workforce. I became a teaching assistant with our local district. First, I helped in an early childhood classroom. We had a morning class, and then all new students for an afternoon class. May I just go on record to say that those teachers work their behinds off? Imagine a class load and all of the paperwork involved of about 40 children total? Kudos to them.

After a few years, I switched over to older kids and have spent the last 13 years with 4th and 5th graders. The best part about my job, is that also for the last 13 years I have worked with the same teacher.
She is amazing as a teacher, a "boss", and as a friend.
She teaches with respect towards each student, and plans amazing activities for them as they discover more about the subject. You might say she has been my "boss" during these years, because I do work under her direction. Lucky for me, she respects me as well, and allows me to be creative in my own right. I am allowed to teach many subjects in small groups, and allowed to teach my "very favorite book of all time" to the entire class each year.
More than any of that, she has been my friend. 13 years has brought both joy and sorrow in each of our lives and we have shared each together.

I do love my job. I love teaching, but I also love the fact that I have been so blessed with who I work with.

Sadly, this next school year will be her last before retirement. She will be missed, and I will hopefully find another like her to continue my own career.

S is for Stuff

is for Stuff

A wise friend once said, "Stuff complicates your life."

I have too much.

Now, I am not talking about consumable items, such as food and toiletries. I do have a supply of those things because I stockpile (buying at rock bottom prices to avoid ever paying retail). However, I do not stockpile to the extent that I fill a room.

I am talking about furniture, clothing, and decorative items. Our house if full from corner to corner and I long for a simpler lifestyle. I do not think I could ever be a true minimalist, owning 12 items of clothing, but I would greatly like to reduce what we own.

In 1993 I went on a short term mission trip to Haiti. One would think that after a trip there, I would never own anything in excess. Sadly, good old American consumerism has caught up with me. The items I put in our trash would be cherished by people there.

Part of my accumulation is due to the fact that I delay decisions. When I don't know quite what to do with an item, I put it in a closet, stuff it in a corner, or send it to the basement. Now, please don't start thinking I am going to try out to be on one of those "popular" hoarding shows. I am not where near that . All of our rooms in our home are functioning rooms, I just have too much stuff. I am not even emotionally attached to most of it, and would gladly clear it away. I just lack motivation and physical ability to lift some of it.

Someday however you may drive by and see a large sign;

FREE STUFF !

R is for Relastionships

is for Relationships

This is where life gets real. I know that when I come to the end of my days, all that will really matter is how I handled relationships: my relationship with Christ, and mine with people. There is just so much stuff that will not matter at all.

My relationship with Christ is still evolving. Although I have been a Christian for over 37 years, I am no where near where I should be. I am always learning more about Christ and desiring to be more like Him. I mess up, I am lazy, I get full of myself. Sometimes I wish God graded on a curve and I could just compare myself to the "really bad" people and the "really good" people and I could feel like I am closer to the really good. Sometimes I am in a slump in my relationship with Christ. I do not feel close to Him because I am not making enough of an effort. When you really stop and think that the God of the Universe wants nothing more that for us to spend time with Him, it really humbles you. I need that closeness. When I was going through my health issues I honestly felt closer to God than I ever have, I felt such a dependence on Him and such a longing. I want to feel that way again, but without the trials.

I think it is beautiful too, that God not only wants us to be in good relationship with Him, but truly cares how we treat people. He cares about my earthly relationships. There are times when I am so guilty of not doing enough to nurture them. Again, I get full of myself and my own little world that I do not reach out to others enough.

I know that God's plan for us is to love God and love people. A very simple plan, yet when put into action correctly can mean the world.
I will go to bed tonight thanking God for those He surrounds me with on a daily basis and for those I love that I do not get to see very often.

Q is for Quandary

Q is for Quandary

That is what I am in the midst of. Q is just not an easy letter. Here were my options that I felt I could at least get one paragraph :

Questions- I have a lot of questions that I want to ask God someday. I would list them here, but really, they are for God. Thing is, I am thinking that once I see Him face to face, I won't care so much anymore to learn the answers.

Quiet- I am not a quiet person. I always admire the soft spoken women out there. I can bet though, that most soft spoken women were not number 9 in their birth order, and definitely did not have 7 older brothers.

Quest- my brother suggested that, but it did not float my boat.

So you see why Q has to stand for quandary, because I am absolutely perplexed.

P is for Psalms 34:4

is for Psalms 34:4

I actually had multiple choices floating around in my head for the letter P. I thought about prayer, parents, and perseverance. Each of those words bring up many thoughts. However, I decided to share another one of my favorite verses, which in reality makes me think of each of the other words I was considering.

I was in my freshman year of college, and learned that my mother was sick. Seriously sick. Cancer was found in her colon and she would need major surgery. I was alone the night I got the call from my sister and I was so upset. I went to my room, and did the thing that never ends well...I opened my Bible and let it fall open. I had just enough faith or naivety, to believe that God would speak to me in this way. I know now that I could have opened my Bible to a verse that made no sense at all in my circumstance, but I didn't.

The verse I found that night was exactly what I needed to hear.

"I sought the Lord and He answered me, He delivered me from all my fears." Psalms 34:4

What a sweet verse for a young girl who is fearful and lonely. I have since gone back and read the entire 34th chapter and it is a very comforting passage to someone who is hurting.

I will admit, I am not the best at memorizing scripture, but this and my verse from Ephesians are etched in my mind. There are others as well, but these two in particular hold very special meaning.

I do connect this verse with prayer and with parents for that matter, since I found it when I was concerned about Mother. I also think that seeking the Lord is a part of perseverance, so I guess all of my "P" words can be found in this one verse.

O is for Optimism

is for Optimism

I must admit that I was stumped.

When I started blogging through the alphabet I knew there would be certain letters that would be difficult. This was one of them, so much so that I asked my facebook friends to help. One of them wisely suggested that it should be optimism, “because isn’t that what the Silver Lining is all about?”

The name for my blog actually has a dual meaning.

Yes it is about the proverbial silver lining, and that we should look for one behind even our darkest moments, but it has another meaning. My maiden name was Silver. When I decided to do a blog nearly 5 years ago I could not think of a name. My brother-in-law and niece came up with this name because of my silver hair and former last name. It seemed to fit not only as a name, but also as a direction. I would attempt to give a positive outlook on things.

Now, on to optimism: I wish I was always an optimistic person. I think I try to be, but actually I tend to worry about things far too much. My family will tell you that as well.

I do know that during the trials in my life I have been more optimistic than not. Only because I learned to trust God, and when you really put your trust in Him you have to look at things in a positive light. How could we doubt when we have the God of the Universe on our side?

I know that perhaps someone will stumble upon this post, or this blog for that matter and I would pray that something I have written could be an inspiration to them. Perhaps a bit of optimism does shine through this Silver Lining.

At the risk of really dating myself, I remember a song from my childhood. It popped into my head as I woke up this morning. The famous Frank Sinatra sang a silly song about optimism about an ant that wanted to move a rubber tree plant. The song was about high hopes. I could sing it for you if you wanted.

I think we do all need a does of that now and then, the belief that we can do the impossible. Brings another verse to mind..."I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me" Philippians 4:13

That is true optimism.

N is for Neighbors

is for Neighbors

It helps if they are good ones.
It also helps if we are good ones.
Growing up there were some very special people next door: Mr. and Mrs. Adolfs. They were older and were like a second set of Grandparents to me.
I remember Mother telling me that when we moved in beside them that Mrs. Adolfs was really worried about a family with "all those children". She told Mother that the first day she saw the laundry on the line and "all those nice white shirts" that it must be a good family. She loved all of us ever since.

MY sister and I would go to her house to have tea parties. Well, we thought they were tea parties, she would give us something to drink and she always had almond windmill cookies. (I still think of her every time I eat one.)
One day in particular we were at their house and I asked if she had any candy. She had a "milk glass" candy dish with a lid on her coffee table and she usually had it filled. Thing is, I had sneaked a peak before asking so I knew it was full. She figured that out quickly and told me that yes, she had candy, but since I had lifted the lid to check without asking first, that Icould not have any. She gave my sister a piece to eat right in front of me. I was crushed for a while, but soon I realized that she was almost a real grandma to do something like that and I loved her even more.

Her husband passed away later on, and she moved north to live with family. I wrote to her for a few years, but then lost touch. I miss those days of childhood.

You never know what influence you can have on a child. She was just a next door neighbor who opened her home and made children feel welcome.

When Steve and I moved into this neighborhood we were surrounded by elderly people. Widows and widowers were our neighbors. Our boys were the only children in our cluster of houses and they were loved.

Mr. Lindley lived next door and of all things, he had a trapeeze type swing in his garage. It was left over from his days of raising children and our boys loved it. The boys also loved his little dog Pal, and would spend much time in his yard.
Mrs. Nicholas lived across the street and she loved visits from the two little Walter boys. She would get rides to the mall and she often brought back special cookies for the boys. I remember one time the cookies were huge teddy bear cookies that were dipped in chocolate. The boys loved them.

Then there was Wilma.
Wilma moved across the street when the boys were young. Joel was still taking two naps a day. She became a part of our family immediately. She loved flowers, and some of the plants in my yard came from her, although I was told you can't say thank you for plants or they won't grow. She taught me how to make peanut brittle, although I never mastered it. She also told many stories of the years she spent with her husband and of her teaching career. She was a great friend.
Her heart and health deteriorated and she is no longer with us.
The family invited me over the night after she passed so I could pick out treasures from her home. We are blessed with many precious items that were special to her and now are special to us.

Think about your neighbors. They are a part of your lives, and can bless you tremendously. I also need to think about us. Are we the same type of neighbors?

M is for Mother

is for Mother

Isn’t M always for Mother? I mean what else would it be?

I had one.

I am one.

I have an amazing Mother-in-law.

I had a sweet mother. She was 41 when I was born, the last of her babies, her 2^nd little girl after 7 boys. She had a special way of loving. Each of us 9 children grew up thinking we were her favorite, (but I’m sure I really was). Mother was a stay at home mom until I reached 4^th grade. Due to health issues Daddy could no longer work, and Mother found a job at a local bakery. What a great job to a kid. Donuts, cakes, pies, and fresh bread would come home with Mother on a daily basis. Not good for a growing girl’s metabolism, but boy did they taste great. After my sister and I got a few years older we would make weekly trips to downtown to spend our allowance, and we always stopped at “Mother’s bakery”. She was promoted along the way to a cake decorator and we loved watching her put the cake up on the turntable and make roses to decorate it. A few years later she moved down the street to a job at Kresgees, and then to a Kmart before resigning due to her own health issues.

The worse thing about Mother is that I did not have her long enough. I was just 21 years old before she passed away, 5 weeks before my wedding, and much too soon if you ask me. I would like to think that I have inherited a few things from her. I know that some of my shopping strategies were from her, and hopefully some of my cooking skills.

I miss her every day, and in reality I always will, but I know that someday I will have an amazing family reunion with her.

I am a mother.

I think because I had such a great mother it made me want to be one all the more. I have been blessed with two sons that I love dearly, and yes, each is my favorite. I pray that I can leave some of the things with them that Mother taught me and that they will also get to know her more through me.

I also have an amazing mother-in-law.

Even saying that is against traditional views. I have actually had her in my life much longer than I had my own mother, and have grown to love her so much over the years. She has also been one to teach me many things: how to love your husband more than any other earthly person, how to devote your life to serving God and others, and how to make a mean batch of chicken and noodles.

M has to be for Mothers!

L is for Lavish

is for Lavish

I love that word. I love it that God lavished his goodness on us. I especially love how John put it:

“See what great love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God!” I John 3:1

I only ever used that word to describe mundane things, like putting on suntan lotion, but when I think if its full meaning, I am honestly in awe. The dictionaries describe it as being extravagant or extremely generous. I am not “extremely generous” with many things. I tend to hold back. I reserve some for me, carefully calculating just how much of anything I can give. I then count the cost of what I am giving and act accordingly.

But God did not hold back. I know He counted the cost, but He gave anyway.

I love this word so much that I almost want to reserve it just for describing what God did and how much He loves us. Nothing I do can compare.

K is for Kitchen

K is for Kitchen

I destroyed mine.

In April of 2000, I accidentally set my kitchen on fire.

Joel and I were home that Saturday. He was in 8^th grade and he was hungry all of the time. He wanted leftover chicken strips and fries, and I decided to re-heat the fries in oil.

The oil needed to get hot before I put in the fries or they would get soggy, so I turned on the oil and went into our dining room to finish paying bills. I soon heard a noise, which sounded like Niagara Falls, and when I realized it was not Joel making noise, I got up to look. The flames were already up the wall and across the ceiling. I panicked, Joel remained calm.

We got out quickly, along with the cordless phone and our dog. That is all I grabbed. We could not find the cat. I frantically yelled for people to call 911, while I was trying to do the same. Joel calmly asked a neighbor lady to call.

Fire trucks were soon at our house and I remember being in almost a daze as I sat near a tree and watched all of the events unfold. I had tried to go back in for our cat, but as soon as I opened the front door the smoke was overpowering. I remember sitting under a tree, coughing, and having a neighbor girl bring me a glass of water. How thoughtful. The firemen soon found our cat, and while she too, was coughing hard, she was fine.

It is so surreal to think of all of this now.

We lived with Steve’s mom and dad for two months while our house was being cleaned and repaired. And due to some changes my kitchen became nearly twice the size. God truly made beauty from ashes and I was so grateful for insurance.

Life seems to change quickly sometimes, and I am just so thankful for a God who holds us during these very stressful times.

J is for Jake & Joel

J is for Jake & Joel

No other way around this one folks. When I told Joel that I was going to blog through the alphabet, his immediate response was, “What is J going to be?” He already wondered which of them I would write about.

How does a mom choose? If she is smart, she doesn’t.

Steve and I were married for 6 years before Jake was born. I had had a miscarriage before Jake and then had complications for the first 5 weeks of my pregnancy with him. I was fearful for the rest of the pregnancy, and more than delighted when he was born. He brought so much joy to us. Neither of us could believe how much we could love someone. He was a happy baby for the most part, but did not sleep well at all. I am sure part of that was my fault because I would run in and grab him out of his crib at the least little whimper. He did not nap well either so I was a walking zombie for the entire first year.

22 months later Joel was born. We wondered before he was born just how we could love someone as much as Jake, where does more love come from? Then we held him, and realized that in the very minute he was born, our love multiplied exponentially.

Joel was my sleeper. (still is…) He slept through the night early on, and took two long naps a day for a long time. I think most of that is because I vacuumed in his room while he was sleeping so that I would train him to sleep better than Jake.

I love my boys. I love the children they were and the men they have become. I look forward to watching where God takes them.

I would have to say that the letter J is very important to me!

I is for Imagination

When I was a little girl I had one. Somehow through the years though, it disappeared.

I remember wanting to be Dale Evans. (For those of you who have no clue who she was, she was a famous singing cowgirl. Her husband was Roy Rogers and he was quite famous)

Dale Evans wore cowgirl skirts. They had fringe all across the bottom that swished when she walked. Little girls like fringe. Little girls like skirts that swish. I did not own a swishy skirt, nor did my sister. One day when our mother was not using all of the clothespins we decided to borrow them. It was soon discovered that if you place clothespins around the entire perimeter of a skirt it becomes a swishy skirt. It looked like fringe to us and for just a moment we lived the dream of being Dale Evans.

How imaginative was that?

One time I wanted to be a witch. Okay, I must have watched The Wizard of Oz, but being a witch on her broom was all I had on my mind. I walked outside near the barn and found a long lead pipe. Closest thing I could find to a proper witch’s broom. I placed it between my legs, held on as if it were my broom, and started down the path outside.

Lead pipes are heavy.

Lead pipes do not fly, they drop.

To this day I have a scar on my left thumb where the lead pipe landed on it and busted it open.

My sister and I would draw girls on paper, and then we would have them talk to each other. I know that just sounds sad, but it entertained us for hours. It is amazing what being poor can do for one’s imagination.

As I said though, somewhere along the line I lost my imagination.

Ahhh, but not to worry, as it left me, it entered my children. Our boys would come up with the best activities. I remember when they commandeered the vacuum hose and dressed as firemen, setting up chairs for their fire truck, complete with a stuffed animal as their fire-house dog. They took pretend trips to Mee-Mart (K-Mart) or pretended to be the Cinnamon Toast Crunch Bakers. Often they dressed in character pajamas so they could save the world as Batman and Superman. I always felt safe when they were protecting me.

My greatest memories of their childhoods are of the times when they were pretending. What a joy it was to see what their minds would come up with.

Those moments fade so fast, and as adults we seldom pretend. We are too busy with life sometimes to have fun with it.

I may surprise you though, and if I show up someday wearing clothespins all across the bottom of my dress, please don’t think I have “ lost it”.

Please understand that I have found it.

H is for Health

is for Health

Something I have the bad habit of taking for granted.

I know someone who had a very serious cancer. She was cured, but has also been know for being negative about basically everything. I vowed that if I were ever in that position I would surely be more upbeat and positive.

In a sense, I am in that position. Am I a positive person? I am not sure. I know I am not nearly as much as I should be.

Most who have been reading my blog already know about my health history. Much of the details are contained in prior posts. I am not reflecting on these events just to tell my readers about my story, yet to remind myself.

Funny, when I was walking through these events, I never thought I would want to be reminded.

The heart attack was first. May 27, 2008. It just seems so surreal to even think about those days, and to think that a heart attack saved my life. About a week or two after the heart attack, a test was done on my heart that essentially did save my life. That test showed the tumor on my thyroid. This later proved to be a rare form of thyroid cancer. There is a particular test, a blood marker that detects this form of cancer. This test was done prior to surgery, a normal reading is 2 and under. Mine was 1375. I was recently told that a number this high usually indicates that the cancer has spread. I was so blessed, because the surrounding lymph nodes (83 of them) were all clear, and I was surgically cured on September 10, 2008.

I still can hardly believe that God led me through this as He did. I don’t really ask Him why, although for a while I did. I wondered why I was cured when others are not. That is not a question for me to know at this point, so I stopped asking.

The cancer blood test is repeated every 6 months and will be for the rest of my life. This cancer can come back even without the thyroid. It can return in other parts of the body, and does not respond to chemo or radiation. Catching this early, and having it surgically removed is the best line of defense. Do I live in fear? I really don’t, but I would be lying if I did not say that I live in the shadow of cancer. I will mark 3 years this fall, and am anxious for the 5 year mark. Honestly, I am anxious for the 10, 20, and 30 year marks. While I try not to dwell on it, I do at times wonder if it will ever return.

I want to live a grateful life. I remember the day of my heart attack. I turned to the Doctor and told him that he had to make sure I lived. I told him that my boys could not lose their mother at this stage in their lives. I knew what it was like for me.

I thank God every day that He has allowed that not to happen.

I know I need to try better right now at keeping a healthier lifestyle. That is definitely a goal for me. Life on thyroid medicine has played havoc with my weight, and I need to get that under control. I know that my health is not only important to me, but to my family as well. I must not take this for granted.