The boy is turning to me. 


He asks, 

"What have you done with my 

future, what have you done 

with your life?" 

And I tell him that I have tried.

Ellie Weisel.

My son Andy turned 21. When he was born I received a candle that had a notch for every year to burn down to on his birthday for 21 years. I could not envision the day that I would light it for the last time.  I burned it every year until there were years when heartache would strike so close to home that I would simply forget. I would always spend time burning it down to the correct number if I had missed a year, remembering that every year was important. As I pulled it out for the last time to burn to 21, I thought about all of those years. When he was born, someone told me, "Enjoy every age". I found something about every age that I could celebrate, Even at that delightful age of 13. Then I read the quote above from Nobel Peace Prize Laureate, Ellie Weisel. The future. What DID I do as a mother with the imperfections, frailties and sufferings of my own to give him a future? Even deeper in my heart was a troubling question ,what have I done with My life to create a better future for HIM?? Those two questions were infinitely intertwined.                                     

Could I find an answer? I spent time today praying and seeking an answer from God and within myself.  I came up with a surprisingly optimistic answer. The answer was the same as Ellie Weisel's. I tried. My answer to my son would be that my trying came from my being. 

 It was so important for me to love without condition. I envisioned a future for Andy that I knew was already in motion at birth, seeking to see him as an individual with infinite worth and passion for a life given to him from God. 

I was honest, I hated lies and covering up the truth because of its own devastating effects on my life, and just because it was wrong.  I sometimes shared the most painful details of life that I wish I could spare him from, but knowing that it would teach him that life is not perfect, but life goes on and it is our choice in how we deal with it.I would tell him people who do not suffer will fail to find compassion for others .

 I wanted him to live in the world and learn about the worlds beyond his, To see and witness the beauty of other cultures and colors besides his own.

 I gave him the joy of learning from others, knowing that I could not teach him everything, that the love and wisdom given to him by mentors would be valuable throughout his life, and I hoped that someday he would pay that forward.   

Through my battles with my own personal demons, I realized that I had taught him to fight and never give up,even when you want to.  

I can look back and see that what I feel is the most important thing I gave him were my prayers.For God to give me wisdom, because I lacked.That my actions would teach him more than my words. For God to place deep within him a passion to know, trust and follow Him with all of his heart, all of his days, even when nothing made sense.That God would cover my mistakes with His  grace.                                 

As I see my son turning his heart towards new places and experiences, as he walks forward into a life that I will watch from a distance (albeit I hope a close one in heart) I somehow feel that God has answered the prayers of a humble mother with many imperfections.Yes. I have tried, and may Andy's light burn brighter than any candle could with every year that passes.                        

Definition of Determination: 

Firmness of Purpose;

Resolve; 

Fixed intention.
DANIEL.

A Tale of Two Dads

  I got the early morning call 7 years ago this weekend. Come. It was nearly time for my dad  to exit the world that he had entered almost 66 years ago. I knew he was tired. His body had taken on the worst ravages of AIDS, entering his brain, of which there were no retrovirals for. I entered his room and looked with the grief and despair over my father. Once tall and solid in body and full of life, now wasted to a mere 100 lbs with his face wracked with pain. I gazed past his frail body and sensed the demons of his youth and adult life. Exactly who was my dad?  

    Now that I know the truth about my father and his life, I feel that I really had two dads. One wanted to bring a better life to his children, to love us and create more joy in our lives than he had ever experienced in his own childhood. Holidays and Family vacations were of the utmost priority to him because his had been so tragic. 

     The other dad could not find healing for the wounds he suffered at the hands of a raging alcoholic father and an absent mother, and so he sought out the affections of men.  He spent long hours away on trips to the "hardware store" and "the office" and was often consumed with his clothes, hair and car more than the lives of his children. He found that he could not rid himself of either life. He coexisted between the two, unable to part from one life while still doing his best to fulfill the other. One life filled a void but was empty and destructive, and the other life offered him the love he deeply desired,the love of his family. He would take leave of his family during the normal days that we could have enjoyed him so much, yet he gave us memories at Christmas that I will always remember. 

     Through my eyes, he had  the kind of humor that could make me cry from laughing so hard, but his anger filled me with fear. Ironically, his expressions of disappointment in me for never quite living up to his expectations brought me tears of deep grief and a sense of never measuring up.He was so darn protective and controlling of my world, he never liked a guy I dated until my future husband came home to meet him.( "Now THIS is a guy I could walk you down the aisle to...:) He loved his grandchildren with a love and pride that made my heart swell. As I look back, I feel so much grief for the sensitive young man who was forced to experience horrid physical and verbal abuse from his cruel and drunken father, as well as unspeakable acts done to him from others, but my anger from my loss and his choices sometimes gets in the way. In one way, he broke the curse of generational abuse that ran rampant through the men in his family. In another, he was unable to break the bonds of pain that brought him to his other life and ultimately his death and my mother's. 

     I find it hard to take the two lives of my father and create one man. For now, I will accept them both,with so many questions left unanswered. I will focus and remember the dad who fiercely protected and loved me. Throughout all of his teen years and beyond, he clung to Jesus and his faith,even if the religious judgement he sensed kept him from reaching out to someone. Our last conversations were of the deep unconditional love that his Heavenly Father had for him, forgiveness and healing. I will forever be grateful for those moments. 

     I will embrace the memories that brought me joy. I will remember how lies and secrets should never be. I will believe that I can continue to heal from my confusion and grief, and pray that my adult sons have learned lessons in life about pain,suffering,the truth and loving. My father is now truly one being in the heavenly realm and he is healed. Amen.

Remembering Hazel on Memorial Day....A Military Wife and Life Well Lived.

On Memorial Day, it is right and good to remember those who have lost their lives defending our country. This morning as I was thinking about all those who have sacrificed, I thought of an often unmentioned group who also sacrificed so much, the Military Spouse. Hazel Pillsbury was a woman who married a "flyboy" in the 50's. She was a devoted wife, mother, friend, and adopted mom and grandma to many. She spent many hours as the wife of a B-52 navigator...often gone for days and weeks to serve his country.She adored Fred, and even though it was not easy, she created a home that nurtured her daughters and their friends, and welcomed him home from time away from his family. I often think it is difficult to be in charge of everything while your husband is gone, and then readjust to a husband coming home and giving half the reigns back over, but it is something she had to learn how to do, as every military spouse does. How difficult it must be to kiss them goodbye, with a thought in the back of your mind that it might be the last. Yet, Hazel always tried to see the good side of life. She was devoted to God, Family, and Country, in that exact order, and knew that she played a very important part in sacrificing for her country. She knew how, by putting God and family first, and supporting Fred always. Hazel had the kind of spunk that I adored. Always a smile,sometimes a furrowed brow. I would like to say she was lovingly opinionated. When Fred retired and the girls left home,she took on different roles.Crazy about her grandchildren, always a gift of love to those who knew her as Ma P or Grandma Hazel. She had open arms for my children, and she filled a void for me as a "mom" who loved me just the way I was, while gently reminding me where my priorties needed to be. She always had an open door for tea on a day that was difficult. Hazel fought one battle.The battle of breast cancer, which she fought as much as any soldier on the field would. In her courage and brave spirit, I found even more inspiration in this beautiful, spunky woman than anyone I have ever known. One might say she lost the battle 8 years ago this June. I would say she was victorious in all things, loving, living, sacrifice and duty. I know that God welcomed her as she entered His arms with the words ,"Well done, good and faithful servant." I love and miss you Hazel, but I know your battle has been won. May God give an extra dose of strength and courage and love and Light to all the Military wives I am honored to know.

A Lesson on Drowning...

The two pictures you see on each side of this story are a very significant to part of my life experience.They are taken from two different sides of Lover's Beach in Cabo San Lucas, in between two far reaching cliffs.

As we arrived on our cruise ship that September morning 17 years ago, we received multiple warnings about the two sides of these two spectacular beaches. The picture on the left is of the beautiful but powerful Pacific Ocean. We were even informed by our water taxi driver to avoid swimming or snorkeling on the Pacific side of the beach. Certain death he warned us if we even waded more than 3 feet out. Wow, he was serious, I thought. As I am always curious, I asked him, Why? He explained that although it appeared harmless and beautiful, the riptide was so strong that if we explored that side of the ocean, it would drag us out and make it almost impossible to ever return. Many people had drowned, he said. Well, that was a good enough explanation for me, and my eyes returned to the "safe" side ....beautiful, shallow, teaming with beautiful and exotic fish to discover while snorkeling. It seemed so calm, not even waves to disrupt our sight in the water. When we left the ship we were each given life jackets and of course, asked to wear them. Me? I am an excellent swimmer you know, and so was John. So as we waded out into the bay to explore, we left our lifejackets on the sandy beach. Those things are so cumbersome anyway...

So, off we swam..incredible views under the sea...I had never seen so many different kinds of fish and underwater beauty in my life! We had heard that there were even some sea turtles farther out in the beautiful little bay, so we ventured out farther. As I neared a small bend, I turned toward a large group of blue and yellow fish surrounding a large rock under the water covered with barnacles. As I reached the rock, a wave of strong water pushed me under. I swam to the top, and another wave pushed me farther down toward the rock. Another and another pushed me so far down that I was being thrown against the sharp barnacles and remained unable to get to the top for air. A terror engulfed me that I had never known. It felt like a relentless war that I was getting ready to lose in "safe" water. I thought of my young children, John, and screamed out to God with nobody to hear me but Him, to save me.

I had literally begun to lose the strength to fight and could find no air, only sea water to breath in. During these last moments, John noticed that he could not see me. He swam over to find me and within minutes of my ability to get to the surface, he yanked me up. He had to fight me to get me to safety, but he never let go of me, and as I was literally bruised and bloodied he got me to the shore, 100 yards away. As I crawled up to the shore, I noticed my life jacket lying in the sand a few feet away. I am still paying the consequences for the foolish idea that I didn't need a life jacket. I even bear a few scars on my arms and legs to prove it.

Of course I was a good swimmer, of course John was there, and I was assured it was safe, but it still didn't mean I was. If I had worn it, I would have been able to enjoy safe waters, and even been able to swim out further, maybe even see a sea turtle.

Throughout this ordeal, I feel that I have discovered a spiritual truth. I have thought it over many times, perhaps too many, but this is what I have discovered about life because of my pride and foolish choice.

There are many places in life that are just too dangerous to enter. They will tempt you with theirbeauty, and bid you come wade in, but in no circumstances should we ever go there. Trust others and trust your instincts when they warn you that some areas of life will drag you out to a place you can never return from. Then, there are the beautiful and safe places to explore. There can still be unexpected danger and events that can bring about uncertainty and fear, but we are not meant to stay on the shore. We were created to explore and discover new things throughout our lives. For me, God represents my life jacket. He is not there to be cumbersome or restrictive, or keep us from enjoying our life. He is there to give us freedom. He wants us to venture out to the depths of our passions. He just wants us to take Him with us, so that we can feel safe in knowing that He is there, not matter what we face. It doesn't mean you are not going to be thrown against a rock or two, but it means that as long as we allow Him to surround us, fear will be less, and we can venture into safe but unknown territory knowing that we have a Life Jacket that secures us.

Oh, and by the way, since that time, I have swam in the deep waters of Hawaii with over 200 dolphins, snorkeled off of a deserted island in Fiji, and enjoyed swimming deep blue waters with my family, without fear, because I ALWAYS wear my Life Jacket.

Loving with Grace....Remembering my mom.

After I turned 13, I don't remember giving my mom much grace. I didn't even understand what the word meant, let alone wanting to. Years went by. Anger and resentment grew. All my thoughts were of myself and the pain she caused me. I never took a moment to think about her life and feelings because I didn't want to. All that I knew was that my mother never loved me the way I needed or wanted her too. It turns out that I was right, she didn't. I wanted her to change. I wanted her to say she was sorry. She never did. So I took it upon myself to forgive her. It was a ponderous chain of events that I had to forgive, and it was never ending. Always more heartache, always a new situation to work through. It was exhausting.
When my mother and father were diagnosed HIV positive, I thought things would improve. At times they got worse. I tried in every way I knew possible to love and please her, and each time I never felt that she could accept my love fully. There were moments of laughter, the words "I love you" were spoken; but sometimes they never felt quite right to me. I wanted more. It was easy with my dad. He was more like me, I thought he loved me more. I rationalized it all the time in my mind. I had nothing to forgive him for, because he "did the best he could". He had such a horrendous life growing up , and it was so hard to live with my mother. I crafted a special place of honor for my father. I had more than enough love, grace and understanding for him. I knew exactly what grace was, how much I needed it everyday with my family and friends, but did I think to give any to my mom in the midst our relationship?

Today would have been my mom's 71st birthday. In the last 6 months of her life. I learned a lot. I had known the truth about her life for 10 years. She never wanted to talk about it. I wanted to talk about it. I prayed that God would open a door for us to be honest and open, for her to be able to pour out her heart to me. I wanted everything to go my way, if only we could talk, she would love me more. My most wonderful memory of my mom happened on her birthday 2 years ago. John and I went up and took her to Apple Hill, where some of our best memories were created as a family. It was a beautiful day, and we ordered our traditional hot apple cider and apple fritter. I bought her donuts to take home for the week. She wanted to buy a beautiful blouse, but felt it cost too much. We talked her into buying that blouse, an amazing accomplishment for me. We talked about cutting down our Christmas trees and laughed about the boys running all over the forest when they little and how great they are still. As we left, a group of the friends she had made over the past year found us in the store. My mom seemed so proud as she introduced me to her friends and they all told me how wonderful my mom was. They were all happy to meet "Lucy's Daughter". As we left that day, grace began to grow in my heart. I am thankful for the last 6 months of her life as I found a way to live in peace with her. Grace. I loved my mom, but forgive me for the grace I never gave her. As I sorted through her things, I realized she lived through a miserable childhood in a toxic religious environment without the love of Christ in her home, but she still held her faith through all of it. She married the man of her dreams only to learn that her dreams rarely came true. She had the gifts to be a fashion designer, but had to give it up to support her parents when her father had a stroke. I know now the dream I had of her several months ago (see blog post in April) was very revealing. She loved her family and friends, even though deep and nurturing love was foreign to her, leaving her unable to love in a healthy way. She kept the secrets in her heart until she died, leaving behind only bits and pieces of a painful and persevering life. I still wish we could have had that conversation, but she just couldn't. I believe it was just too painful. I am so sorry for the pain she experienced and held so deeply in her heart. Honesty would have given us a fair chance. Now I can give her real grace. I give her praise for reading me Bible stories as a child, encouraging me to continue going to worship even when she chose not to, teaching me how to make a delicious pie crust, and taking me to movies and playing cards with me because she never could. She protected me from family memebers who had done evil to her. I also give praise to God for helping me understand that giving forgiveness and grace is the best way to live. I believe it is the only way to be whole. In many ways I was selfish. In many ways I was deeply damaged and hurt. That is true for so many of us. By the grace of God given to me, He asks me to give her the fullest measure of grace, and there I will find peace. I am so grateful to Jesus the Christ who has healed us both.

Oh How the Years Go By...

Oh how the years go by, oh how the love brings tears to my eyes, all through the changes the soul never dies, we laugh we fight we cry, as the years go by. .. Amy Grant

My first child Andy will graduate from high school in about 4 weeks. How did this happen? Everyone told me this day would be here before I knew it, but you don’t think about that in the early years as you are trying to decide when to feed him solid food, rocking him to sleep in that precious rocker you still have, reading the same book to him for the 25th time that day, endless stroller adventures,or laughing so hard and trying to hide it as I try to teach him that he cannot eat Milk Bones with his dog, and toilet paper belongs on the roll, not rolled out of the bathroom, down the hall and into the living room as company arrives.I never thought much about this day in those elementary school days when I made green eggs and ham, we picked out his lunch box together, made his Halloween costumes, and went by Toys R Us everytime I was in town to see if they had new Pokeman cards. He wanted my help to practice for his spelling test and memorizing multiplication tables, and I helped out in his classroom once a week, read with him every night from an exciting adventure or mystery,and told him how great he was at art, even though we both knew he had other gifts.Even during those days of adolescence when I was wondering where my little boy went and where did the aliens take him. His independence had burst anew, trying my patience or getting on my last nerve.I was not giving him enough rope for the trust he was earning and space he needed; I still had a little trouble looking at the big picture. Then I would loosen that rope, and he was good with almost every inch of it.I did get a little misty, when he graduated on Falcon Field from 8th grade, thinking to myself, wow, he really is going to high school next year. We would go to the graduations of our youth at church, and we were thrilled and excited for them, never really noticing the expressions of parents preparing to let go. There were proms, plays, great teachers,vacations,Yosemite ,movies with friends, youth group, FCA, AP tests, becoming a film maker, and arguing over which books and movies he could read or watch. Every day I would call out to him as he headed across the street, “Have a great day! God goes with you!” Some days he would turn his head and smile and say thanks, some days he would just keep going. I prayed and loved. I failed and lost my temper. Some days I would do all of that. My son lived through the tragedy of losing his grandparents to a disease he did not fully understand, but learned to have compassion and care for all of God’s children. He lived through the moment when his father took a stand to leave corruption and begin anew, and everything he was comfortable with was taken, except for the love of his church friends and family (and his stuff). He lived through the anxiousness that just comes with growing up, and knows he can survive it. He has a firm grip on his faith and knows God will always be there, even if mom and dad can’t be.All of those years bring me to these days. I have reflected a lot lately, pulling out old pictures, laughing and crying at the same time for the future and independence he will enjoy as he begins a new life away from home for the first time. I am so thrilled. Why then do I cry from time to time? (Ok ok, about every other day) Why does my heart almost physically hurt when I think about not having Andy at home? I guess it is because this day has come before I knew it. Actually, if I can sit for a few minutes and think about that fact, I am glad I did not know it would come this soon. Many years ago, I read a bumper sticker on the car of an elderly neighbor that said, “Enjoy Every Age.” That thought has stayed with me for many years now. I have the best of memories in my heart, and I pray that as I walk through these days that came before I knew it, I will remember that there are many more ages to enjoy. Love your kids at every age; you will never regret it when the day comes so soon.

How I Won Little Little Miss Sunday School

I have always been an honest tyke, teenager and adult. Sometimes it has gotten me in big trouble. Through the years I have tried very hard to learn to measure my truthful words with wisdom in my head first. But,thinking back to when I was 4, (a little younger than this picture) honesty had its benefits.I had the great honor of being nominated for the title of Little Miss Sunday School. My family attended a Foursquare Assembly of God church, and EVERYbody knows how much Foursquare churches love contests. To achieve the title, I had to win a penny drive. There were three adorable little girls (including myself) up for the title, and the winner would be chosen according who received the most pennies. I myself was very excited about this title, because the winner won a trophy, an Uncle Sam hat, and best of all, A Disney ICE CREAM MAKER! I wanted that Ice Cream maker. I don't remember so much about wanting to represent the church with the title of Little Miss Sunday School, but hey church for me was all fun back then. The big day arrived after weeks of observation from the church members. It was interview Sunday. I was ALL decked out along with my two opponets, sitting up by the pulpit in front of the entire congregation. I was the last to be interviewed.The most important part of the interview was the question, "Why do YOU want to be Little Miss Sunday School?" The first contestant stepped up to the podium and clearly stated, " I want to be Little Miss Sunday School because I love Jesus!" Great answer! The next contestant stepped up and also gave an eloquent answer. "I want to be Little Miss Sunday School because I love going to Sunday School and learning about God." I seriously remember this, had no issues with their great answers. Finally it was my turn to step up to the microphone. I was ready. "Why do you want to be Little Miss Sunday School Laurie?" With my parents beaming proudly up at me from the crowd, I proudly pronounced," Because I want the Ice Cream Maker!!" I coud not for the life of me figure out why the entire church was laughing so hard. I was being honest here! I won by a landslide. The ice cream maker is long gone, don't remember ever wearng the Uncle Sam hat, but I still have the little trophy to remind myself that it is always best to tell the truth.

Bracelet Dream

In my deepest sleep, I drive to the jewery store to bring a bracelet that I found in my mother's jewelry box. It is beautiful, but broken. As I walk in, I see the jeweler, but a more curious sight behind him. There is a darker shadow, just behind him. As I draw closer, I realize that this is the shadowy image of my mother. I pull out the bracelet to be repaired, and it has transformed into something completely different than what I brought in. My mother's shadow leans in over his shoulder to take a closer look. I can't understand why she is here. I look down at the hand beaded squares of the bracelet and they are no longer there, but replaced by several brilliant diamonds and dirty and scratched squares. I look to my mother and ask her clearly in my mind,"What are these ?", in disbelief of how drastically the piece of jewelry has changed. She calmly replied to me in such a quiet and sad voice. "The first jewel is the day I married your father." The first diamond is followed by several of the ugly squares. "The jewel here is the day you were born, and the jewel in this spot is the day of your brother's birth." She continued on as she did not speak of the squares that are deeply damaged. I follow along the bracelet and there are 3 diamonds in a different formation, lined up side by side in a horizontal fashion. "These are the days the grandchildren were born." I looked at the bracelet again. There were no more diamonds, just squares of damage.. I looked up and all that I saw in her shadow were her eyes. I will always remember her eyes. How sad they were. There was a longing in them that I suddenly understood. They faded, and the shadow was gone. I was standing alone, everything disappeared around me. I was left with the thought that she had just told me her life story through the bracelet.

No matter what your politics are, his favorite recipe is awesome!

No matter what you think about President Ronald Reagan, I found his favorite recipe and it is great! Nothing fancy about his tastes!

Ronald Reagan's Macaroni and Cheese

1/2 lb macaroni

1 tsp butter

1 egg beaten

1tsp seasoned salt

1tsp dry mustard

3 cups of grated sharp cheese

1 cup milk

Boil macaroni in water until tender and drain thoroughly. Sitr in butter and egg. Mix mustard and salt with 1 tablespoon of hot water and add to milk. Add cheese leaving enough to sprinkle on top. Pour into bttered casserole, add milk, sprinkle with cheese. Bake at 350 for about 45 minutes or until custard is set and top is crusty.

How Could I Have Missed This?????

Oh my gosh, how did I miss this! I have been thinking all this time that time with God at home or with his beautiful creations would bring me stress relief! NOW studies have proven that Bath and Body Works had the answer all along, and I would have missed it if I had not gotten this flyer in the mail! All I have to do is rub this onto my pulse points (where exactly are all of those things???) and I will be stress free. I feel betrayed by friends, my pastor, my church family and even my doctor for not filling me in on this sooner. I am heading to the mall right this minute to buy 20 bottles of this stuff. Just think, all those prayers at night that brought me peace..wasted time. Trusting God to bring me through dark nights of the soul because He loves me...finding strength to get through those tough days of subbing with His constant presence? Focusing on all the blessings of my life instead of my worries? Forget about it! Who needs to focus on that stuff when all I have to do is open the bottle and rub it on a pulse point! It just proves that time spent with Christ is one more unnecessary time waster in my days and nights of living life on this earth. Bless you Eucalyptus leaves! This will also save me time,energy AND money because this stuff will save me from using gas to go to the ocean to breathe in the beauty and climbing up to the Falls at Yosemite to feel the spray of the thundering Falls on my face! Heck, I don't need to exercise by taking a walk through the orchards at sunset or sunrise with the breeze gently blowing , and contemplate the gift of this one life he has given me! OK, so God created Eucalyptus leaves for a reason, but a free sample of aromatherapy on my pulse points is just not gonna solve the issue of lowering my stress level, although it might help...a little. Praise God for the moments he gives me every day to be loved by him as I work out stress relief His way. And it is AOK to buy that stress relief therapy, it smells GREAT. :)

Life is either a daring adventure...or it is nothing.
Helen Keller

Great Great Grandma Sophronia's Bible.....

This was my Great Great Grandma Sophronia's Bible. It is a treasure to me, with its torn and weathered pages and broken binding. It brings me great hope. My mother's family held a common faith of serious teachings in the 1800's. Sanctification, Hell's threats and also heaven's great promises. I found poems in the front of her Bible that gave me a glimpse into her thoughts. There was even an advertisement for Bromo's Laxatives, that was guaranteed to cure a cold (?) in 24 hours. I yearn to know more about her life.The Psalms were read the most it seems. I cannot imagine the life she lived during the 1800's in Nebaska. She passed away in 1905, leaving at least 90 years of life on earth behind her. She found her comfort in this book, it seemed that she treasured the hope of life after death the most. She had many children, stayed faithful in marriage, lived life without luxury or financial security, and it gives me peace in knowing that faith has been strong in my family since the days of the Pilgrim's crossing to America and even before that. God's word helped her survive all that life brought. I know that there were tragedies and anguish, secrets unspeakable, and joys of life . Nothing else remains of her life here. How do I reconcile the fact that her family and generations to come were inflicted with mental illness, strict and frankly what I find to be odd religious teachings? I recognize that no matter what, God's word still stands, and regardless of sin and sorrow, it holds the answers for all that comes to us. Peace, redemption, grace and hope. May my Bible be found in such shape when future generations discover its contents. I pray that this book continues to help break the chains that have bound us.

Where Do I Start?

Today I started cleaning out my parent's house. On the outside, the house looks beautiful. On the inside, the home was jarring to me as I walked through the neat and clean home and began to look in closets. So many things we hide away. Boxes of memories, painful to find, some bittersweet, some bringing laughter. Just like the lives.that represented them A box of my childhood accomplishments, a box of mean spirited correspondence, dolls from 4 generations of women who struggled to find solace. 50 years of Christmas decorations. Newspapers, the last one my Grandfather was holding when he had his stroke, the assasination of JFK, RFK, but no MLK, obituaries, strange human interest stories from years ago, Nixon's resignation, an announcement of a scholarship I had won in college, stories with quotes in them my brother had made to the press. So much bereft of emotion. Accomplishments? They were so proud. Emotion? Found only occasionally in diaries. Where in the heck did I come from?? Emotional should have been my middle name. I searched and searched for a fondness for me, a love for me, a word written on page to tell others that I was loving and kind, silly and funny. A story that told of our love for each other. I found secrets and pain that had been held onto for years. Hundreds of books that held meaning to me through every age. For almost three months I made this pilgrimage to a home that was full of you name it and yet it felt so empty. Baby clothes she made for me and my baby books were filled with love. Less and less as I grew older., except for my first driver's license, my report cards, and a few of my stories. When I walked through the house for the last time, viewing all that was there, in my mind, from my perspective, there were so many beautiful collections, nice furniture, memories of things used. Yes, there were at least 10 boxes of pictures, I hope to find more love in those boxes. I have not been able to open them since I picked out pictures for the memorial. I want to find more of me in a selfish sort of way, something of love that does not fit into a newspaper article or a piece of clothing or a book. Maybe that was all they could do, knowing the pain of their pasts, maybe I need to find peace in the pieces. I must believe there was love in the ruins.

The Promise of Spring

My heart takes in a new breath as I watch the Spring Flowers begin to bloom. What is it that makes the colors of Spring so fresh, so colorful, so joyful? Something about the Winter must dull our senses and as Spring appears, we remember that there is new life always to be found after a bleak Winter. There are always new beginnings to be discovered, whether they are planted with expectancy in the Fall, or they surprise us and just appear.