Metta World Peace and Cuba Gooding Jr.

Oddly, the last few days I've had these two men running through my head.

You may think it's strange, and so do I. But I do have reasons.

I can kind of identify with Metta World Peace.  I am trying to hold together an image of who I am and who I claim to be , but inside I just feel like violently elbowing someone to soothe my frustration. Pray for World Peace. And for me. We are really no different. And try not to judge us.

I am also reminded of Cuba Gooding Jr.  I could be wrong about my movie reference here, because I'm not the kind of girl who remembers much about movies.  But I do recall a stunning and powerful scene in which I think Cuba starred that I watched years ago.  I think it was called Man of Honor and in it, there was a man who was called upon to do a job. That job was to save the ship by swimming down to shut a hatch or something to that effect. Anyway the powerful part was that this man knew that he would not make it out alive - that he would be sacrificing everything he had to do the right thing.  And agonized, he dove in.  Nothing in him WANTED to make that choice.

That's how I feel about moving.  There is not a shred of my being, my heart, my soul, my body that wants to make this move. Except that I know it's the right thing for my husband. So I am diving in...

I will fare much better than that character.  This was just a character.... I am living a real life under a real God who will guide us and show us his unfathomable grace and favor.  He will do more than we ask or imagine. He will carry us when we are sad and show us the way.

Today, I read this verse (from The Message):

Simply put, if you're not willing to take what is dearest to you, whether plans or people, and kiss it good-bye, you can't be my disciple. Luke 14:33

I am willing, Lord.
Pray for peace.

Feels Like I'm Leaving Eden

Ok. Maybe I'm overemotional. That's a given.

But as I sit and face the new life that awaits us in Carbondale, Illinois,

a new and exciting job for Tom, associate head coach at Southern Illinois University with Barry Hinson....

(thank you Barry for believing in my husband)

I just cannot part with the old. It seems like the hardest thing I've ever had to do.

Say goodbye to family and friends and schools and churches and jobs our home and the

only place our kids have ever known. Say goodbye to LOVE.

Do I really have to do this Lord?

Little images float through my mind, tiny scenes from the past.....

Every moment that matters has been here in Tulsa, Oklahoma. How do I pick up and leave that behind? Why would you want me to? And a prayer comes to my soul....

Father, Grant me the strength to do what I never wanted to.

Help us to shine your name wherever we go.

Be near to us oh God as we make more changes

than we ever really thought we would have to make.

Orchestrate each and every detail!

May we be a blessing to Southern Illinois University...

and God... have mercy on me in my sadness...

turn it to gladness, for my husband,

for my children and for a new faith-filled adventure.

Oh Lord.... it does feel like I'm leaving Eden.

Feels like I'm leaving Eden
Feels like I'm leaving Eden, oh
It's like I'm further away with every step I take
And I can't go back 'cause I'm leaving Eden

Hallelujah Moment

i am tired,
but before i sleep i want to share....
the details of the day my granny went to heaven.

but let me start first a few hours before today,
yesterday afternoon....

granny had only had the strength to ask for water about 3 times throughout the day...
and by the time 5 o'clock came, she was in a deep sleep,
not opening her eyes, not talking,
just breathing.

at 5PM, unexpectedly, everyone left the hospital,
exhausted,
but God ordained for me a time with her,
just me and my granny.

alone with her, i thought, what do i do?
sing. so sing i did, voice and all.
i prayed she would hear the voice of an angel
and it would have had to be a supernatural intervention,
because i ain't no angel-voiced lady.

i sang
"It is Well"
"I'll Fly Away"
"How Great Thou Art"
"Great is Thy Faithfulness"
"There's a Sweet, Sweet Spirit in this Place"
"Jesus, I Adore You"
and then i sang them again.

sometimes i couldn't remember the words,
so i looked them up on my iphone.
sometimes i could barely make it through the song,
but i kept singing in a broken voice.

did she hear me?
i don't know but when i sang"It is Well" one time,
I could see her lips moving in such a way that I think she was singing along with me.
i am almost sure of it.

i read scriptures to her...
i knew that Psalms 91 and Psalms 23 were two of her favorites,
so I read her those,
along with a few others sprinkled in.

i laid my face next to hers,
i got close to her and hugged her,
my tears fell upon her cheeks.

she didn't arise
or open her eyes
or talk to me,
but when i left i felt that i had just experienced
3 of the most precious hours on earth that i have ever had.

so this morning,
i thought, goodness,
do i go right back up to the hospital?
after all, we had been told that 4-7 days was a realistic time frame for granny,
but something drew me there,
and by 8:30am, i sat there with mom.

granny's breathing was shallow and she looked pretty awful,
but these were expected changes.
around 10:30, mom said we should start thinking about granny's funeral.
so i got out my laptop and started typing some ideas for the service.

Mom said, "let's put a title on it called 'It's a Hallelujah Moment.'"
It was an idea given to her by a friend who had lost her son years before.

I typed that phrase at the top of my page and
at
that
instantaneous
slice
of
a
second,
something changed in the air.

mom and I both looked up at granny
and realized that her breathing had stopped.

i went over to her and touched her chest.
i felt her neck for a heartbeat.
she was warm.
but her heart beat no longer on this earth.

i didn't plan it friends,
but out of me sprang
a song,
one i hadn't thought of the night before...

"Praise God, from Whom all blessings flow;
Praise Him, all creatures here below;
Praise Him above, ye Heavenly Host;
Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.
Amen."

i looked up; i thought she might be looking at me from there,
i smiled through the tears at Granny and her Hallelujah Moment.

She Will Rise....

For the last couple of weeks, Granny has been holding onto this world by a few stray threads, and soon the magnificent beauty of the quilt of heaven will be upon her.

Though it cuts our hearts to shreds thinking of not having our inspiration here with us on earth anymore,we know the truth, that she has had her eyes set upon the kingdom of God for days, months and years. She has anticipated living in His presence more than anyone I know.

Ellie couldn't understand how we can go on without Granny, and I tried to communicate what I know as sure as I know that Granny's eyes are blue like mine. I explained that we go on WITH her. The Bible assures us that the faith of a believer is poured out into future generations, so that faith is surely surging into Ellie's little life as I type. And Kami and Luke and Hallie and Lauren and Maggie and dozens of others. Granny is very much with us yet will be preparing many, many heavenly quilts for us in heaven.

As tears pour from my eyes, I ask you to please pray for Granny's last days. Hospice care is necessary now, as we have been told 3-5 days is the timeline. Granny is certainly one to defy expectations, but in my mind she is thinking this: "Only 3-5 days til I get to see Jesus!"

I have been listening to a big dose of Chris Tomlin lately. The kids and I sing our lungs out to "I Will Follow," but the song that has moved me, particularly the last couple of weeks is "I Will Rise." It isn't a song Granny knows, but the lyrics fit her so well. I am sharing them below as well as a link to the song in case you've never heard it.


There's a peace I've come to know
Though my heart and flesh may fail
There's an anchor for my soul
I can say "It is well"

Jesus has overcome
And the grave is overwhelmed
The victory is won
He is risen from the dead

[Chorus:] And I will rise when He calls my name
No more sorrow, no more pain
I will rise on eagles' wings
Before my God fall on my knees
And rise I will rise

There's a day that's drawing near
When this darkness breaks to light
And the shadows disappear
And my faith shall be my eyes

Jesus has overcome
And the grave is overwhelmed
The victory is won
He is risen from the dead

[Chorus:] And I will rise when He calls my name
No more sorrow, no more pain
I will rise on eagles' wings
Before my God fall on my knees
And rise I will rise

And I hear the voice of many angels sing, "
Worthy is the Lamb"
And I hear the cry of every longing heart,
"Worthy is the Lamb" [x2]

[Chorus:] And I will rise when He calls my name
No more sorrow, no more pain
I will rise on eagles' wings
Before my God fall on my knees
And rise I will rise



She Will Rise.

The Day I Have Dreaded

When your granny is 99, you know that at some point, inevitably, there is going to be an issue healthwise. Last night, Granny fell and broke her hip. Well, shattered it, as the doctor said. A hip replacement is in her near future. She is in lots of pain, though still full of life and spirit. She had us all cracking up. But a broken hip, as you know, is not a good thing. I thank you in advance for praying for Granny. I told her you would be! And she's holding you to it now, ya hear?

OKC Memorial

I am ashamed to admit that I live an hour and 1/2 from the site of the Oklahoma City bombing and in the 15 years since the horrific event that claimed 168 lives, I have never visited the stunning memorial that was built. Stop #3 - OKC Memorial and Museum

This is the edge of the Survivor's Wall that we saw when we first arrived.

Bolded sections from Wikipedia:

Survivors' Wall: The only remaining original portions of the Murrah Building are the southeast corner, known as the Survivors' Wall, and a portion of the south wall. The Survivors' Wall includes several panels of granite salvaged from the Murrah Building itself, inscribed with the names of more than 800 survivors from the building and the surrounding area, many of whom were injured in the blast.

This is the truly beautiful reflective pool that was built in the center of the memorial site.

Reflecting Pool: A thin layer of water flowing over polished black granite, the Reflecting Pool runs east to west down the center of the Memorial (also see reflecting pool) on what was once Fifth Street. Visitors who see their reflection in the reflecting pool are supposed to see "a face of a person changed by domestic terrorism."

And here are 168 chairs for the 168 people who were killed.

Field of Empty Chairs: 168 empty chairs hand-crafted from glass, bronze, and stone represent those who lost their lives in the tragedy. A bombing victim's name is etched in the glass base of each chair. The chairs represent the empty chairs at the dinner tables of the victims' families. The chairs are arranged in nine rows symbolizing the nine floors of the building, and each person's chair is on the row (or the floor) on which the person worked or was visiting when the bomb went off. The chairs are also grouped according to the blast pattern, with the most chairs nearest the most heavily damaged portion of the building. The westernmost column of five chairs represents the five people who died but were not in the Murrah Building when the bomb went off (two in the Water Resources Board building, one in the Athenian Building, one outside near the building, and one rescuer). The 19 smaller chairs represent the children killed in the bombing. Three unborn children died along with their mothers, and they are listed on their mothers' chairs beneath their mothers' names.

The fence where people left mementos is still standing. New mementos have been added, but there is something powerful if yet strange about this fence.

The Memorial Fence: A ten foot tall (3.05 m) chain link fence was originally installed around the area that is now the Reflecting Pool and the Field of Empty Chairs to protect the site from damage and visitors from injury. The Fence stood for more than four years and became famous itself, with visitors leaving stuffed animals, poems, keychains, and other items there as tributes. During the construction of the Outdoor Memorial, 210 feet (64 m) of the Fence was moved to the west side of the Memorial, along the 9:03 side or the 'healing' side. The remainder of the Fence is in storage. Visitors may still leave small items along and in the Fence; the mementos are periodically collected, catalogued, and stored.

Children painted tiles for the entrance of the museum. This is one that spoke for me.

More than 5,000 hand-painted tiles, from all over the United States and Canada, were made by children and sent to Oklahoma City after the bombing in 1995. The tiles are now stored in the Memorial's Archives, and a sampling of those tiles is on the wall in the Children's Area, along with a series of chalkboards where children can draw and share their feelings. The Children's Area is north of the 9:03 gate, on the west side of the Museum

The entrance to the museum also has a chalkboard area where people can write their thoughts.

I think that's a cool idea. It did appear that the children might fry like eggs, but they sweated it out and each wrote a message.

Luke composed one all by himself: "You are in the hands of God."

Finally, the rememberance tree, a perfect ending to our visit.

The Survivor Tree: An American elm on the north side of the Memorial, this tree was the only shade tree in the parking lot across the street from the Murrah Building, and commuters came in to work early to get one of the shady parking spots provided by its branches. Photos of Oklahoma City taken around the time of statehood (1907) show this tree, meaning it is currently at least 103 years old. Despite its age, the tree was neglected and taken for granted prior to the blast. Heavily damaged by the bomb, the Tree ultimately survived after nearly being chopped down during the initial investigation, in order to recover evidence hanging in its branches and embedded in its bark.
The force of the blast ripped most of the branches from the Survivor Tree, glass and debris were embedded in its trunk and fire from the cars parked beneath it blackened what was left of the tree. Most thought the tree could not survive. However, almost a year after the bombing, family members, survivors and rescue workers gathered for a memorial ceremony under the tree noticed it was beginning to bloom again. The Survivor Tree now thrives, in no small part because the specifications for the Outdoor Memorial design included a mandate to feature and protect the Tree. One example of the dramatic measures taken to save the Tree: one of the roots that would have been cut by the wall surrounding the Tree was placed inside a large pipe, so it could reach the soil beyond the wall without being damaged. A second example is the decking around the Tree, which is raised several feet to make an underground crawlspace; workers enter through a secure hatchway and monitor the health of the Tree and maintain its very deep roots.
The inscription around the inside of the deck wall around the Survivor Tree reads:
The spirit of this city and this nation will not be defeated; our deeply rooted faith sustains us.
Hundreds of seeds from the Survivor Tree are planted annually and the resulting saplings are distributed each year on the anniversary of the bombing. Thousands of Survivor Trees are growing today in public and private places all over the United States; saplings were sent to Columbine High School after the massacre there, to New York City mayor Rudolph Giuliani after the September 11, 2001 attacks, the Virginia Tech massacre in 2007, and various other times.

So Much to Blog, So Little Time

I had the highest hopes for blogging in April. And then May 1st stepped rudely into my world! Wow, the pace is not at a jog, but a sprint right now and I am blogging by the hair of my chinny chin chin!

There are so many things I want to record, but for today, I will share with you the song that Ellie adapted while I was out of town this weekend to the tune of Toby Keith's song "Crying for Me." It's about Cosmo. She still misses him.


Here are her words:
Got the news on Monday mornin,
but a few tears I could find,
showed me how to have fun
now you showed me how to die
I was lost the rest of the day
I woke up to face my fears
While writing you this goodbye song
I found a lot of tears
Im gonna miss that dog
Gonna miss him so much
Even though it hurts the way it ended up
I'd do it all again
So play it sweet in heaven
Cause that’s right where you belong
Im not crying cause I feel sorry for you
Im cryin for me
So I got up to look at your toys
And your smell came right to me
That old familiar smell I smell a thousand times
Sorry that your not here comin right home to me
Even though you think im crazy I had to see you again
Im gonna miss that dog
Gonna miss him so much
Even though it hurts the way it ended up I'd do it all again
So play it sweet in heaven
Cause that right where you belong
Im not cryin cause I feel so sorry for you
Im cryin for me
So play with your red and green chew toy
And your green tennis ball
I will see you on the other side…superstar
Im gonna miss that dog
Gonn miss him so much
Even though it hurts the way I ended up
I do it all again
So play it sweet in heaven
Cause thats right where you belong
I'm no cryin cause I feel so sorry for you
I'm cryin for me
I'm still cryin
I'm cryin for me
I'm still cryin

Disappointment

He stands imposingly in the doorway.
Broad shouldered, darkly staring me down.
Accusing. Glaring. Denouncing.

I steal a look at him and run weakly to my hiding spot,
like an injured rabbit.
Where my eyes grow bloodshot hot
and my heart red heavy.
Foolish. Scared. Embarrassed.

It seems impossible to face him.

To go up against him nose to nose.
Confident. Empowered. Believing.

I would rather not take the risk.
And turn inward.
Quiet. Paralyzed. Numb.

Or I would rather fight him like a crazy woman.
Swing my fist into his jaw, hair flying insanely.
Wild. Angry. Hurt.

Instead.

I will pick myself up.
I will walk calmly towards him.
I will give him a steel look in the eye.
Mouth set, I will say firmly,
"Move over. I am coming through."

Faith-filled. Moving forward. Expecting God's best.

Where is that Joy, Joy, Joy, Joy Down in My Heart?

joy

–noun 1. the emotion of great delight or happiness caused by something exceptionally good or satisfying; keen pleasure; elation.

We who follow Christ are called upon to be joyful.... always.
1 Thessalonians 5:16.

Hmmmm. This command has been a bit difficult for me lately.

I've been witness to a dozen recent heartbreaks.
Or heartDEVASTATIONS could be more like it.

*Colleen leaves behind 3 sweet girls and an adoring husband.
The big bully of cancer wins again. Really, God? JOY?

*A best friend suffers daily from the decisions of her ex. The cross is so heavy for her.
God, where are you?

*A local family, rock-solid in their faith, perish in a small plane crash in the middle of a storied park. Mom, Dad, Older Sister, Younger Sister. Leaving behind two older siblings. My heart is so heavy. Joy is weak.

*Family D., plitting up. Separating. Divorcing. Moving far apart.
Little hearts are crushed.
Family M., splitting up. Separating. Divorcing. Moving far apart.
Little hearts are crushed.
Family H., plitting up. Separating. Divorcing. Moving far apart.
Little hearts are crushed.
Family O., plitting up. Separating. Divorcing. Moving far apart.
Little hearts are crushed.
Personal friends, each one of these.
My heart is hushed.

*10 year camp counselor of my beloved Kanakuk is arrested on charges of being a sex predator.
There are no words.

*And then, a local shining star of a family, precious in every way, lose their son in a terrible accident. Mom is driving, tire blows out, car flips 4 times. 8 year old Zachary is gone.

Like that.

Poof. The flame in my heart that is supposed to be joy is extinguished. All that is left is some lingering smoke and a rancid smell that makes me want to retch.

How God, can you expect JOY from your children at such a time as this.

Be joyful always. 1 Thessalonians 5:16. It stings my ears.

But then comes a letter from a dad to a son. A son who is no longer alive on this earth.
A dad whose guts feel like they are strung out on the sidewalk, all bloody and grotesque.
A dad whose tears can't come hard enough or fast enough.

His son is gone.

This dad's letter will be the last words of this post, because I find it particularly astounding in the face of such pain.

The letter to Zachary (along with discussion on this topic at our mini-church last week) helped me open my mind to a thought.... .

....the thought that JOY is not ALWAYS a feeling. It can be and often is, but doesn't have to be and many times is not at all.

Much like LOVE isn't always a feeling. If you have a 2 year old, you know that even when the little darlin' marks your new couch up with your black sharpie and you want to strangle her...

you still LOVE her.

You are not feeling the love, but the love hasn't shifted a minutia.

Similarly, it occurred to me that joy is not necessarily a feeling.

The Christian can have joy even when he doesn't feel joy.

I think that it's actually called faith -

the absolute, unwavering assurance that God loves his children, he made us from dust, is with us moment in and moment out, has a plan for our lives on this earth and also has an everlasting future prepared for us in heaven.

That kind of JOY can be my strength. Phil. 4:13

I close by asking this question:
Can you see joy in the letter below? (used with permission from Christina, Zachary's mom)

Dear Zachary Austin,

Your mom, Hannah and I miss you dearly, but we know that you have been especially called to your mission field. While it is extremely painful for us to let you go, we know that the mission that has been chosen has a higher purpose that is good beyond all measure, but is hard for us to comprehend right now.

We tend to think your mission started last Monday, it actually started 8 years ago in March. From the first day, you began to teach us how to live and to be better than who we are. You shared that knowledge not only with us, but everybody you interacted with. I still remember praying with you at night before you went to bed that you would be a light to those around you and that others would know Christ through your actions and words. That prayer was continually answered. You always rose to the challenge of that prayer.

You continually amazed us in the number of people you touched through your easy way of making friends, your infectious laugh and ability to make others laugh, and your beautiful smile that could light up a room and a life. I would walk down the halls at church or at school, and people would pass by, young and old alike, saying “Hi Zach”. I would ask you who that was and you would tell me. It seemed to me that everybody knew you and that you knew everybody. You had a competitive spirit on the playground or playing field, but you also had a compassionate heart in the classroom. It didn’t matter whether it was someone who was athletically gifted or someone who had special needs, you simply treated them as a friend because they were your friend. I now see the reason for that. God had a plan for you from the first day we laid eyes on you.

As you grew, we began to see a boy that loved being outside and loved playing his sports. While you have always been a Momma’s boy, you were growing into Daddy’s boy. You loved to snuggle up with your Mommy at night, but you liked to throw the baseball or football with Daddy after work. Physical things became personal challenges to you. I can still remember trying to teach you how to ride a bike. I was never quite able to show you what it took to stay up on the two wheels so we put the bike away for a week. I came home one day and saw you riding the bike in the driveway and street while your Mommy was watching. I asked Mommy what she did to show you how to ride. She simply said she took you to a friend’s house where you saw a friend riding his bike. You told yourself, that if your friend could ride his bike, you could ride your bike too and you got up on your bike and rode it. You didn’t need your Daddy to teach you, you simply needed a friend to challenge you. You asked for a Rip-Stick for your birthday and had it mastered by the end of the week. You didn’t stop riding it until you had it figured out. We went skiing for the first time together and you didn’t let a portion of the slope that was a “black” stop you. Moguls became something you wanted to master instead of avoid. Those times were special to us and all part of your mission. Those were times that we could really see the spirit of Jesus in you.

During the last year, I got the privilege of baptizing you. It is something that I will never forget and always cherish. You had no problem publicly accepting Jesus Christ as your Lord and Savior because you had privately made the decision long before.

I won’t lie. It will be hard to go on without being able to touch you, but you are always in our hearts and live on in those people you touched. You continue to have an impact on people in the few days you have been gone, but I suspect that is all part of your mission and will not change in the days to come.

Mommy and I know that we are called to do God’s work where we are in this world, but we desperately look forward to the day that we can join you on your mission and you can show us around.

Love, Daddy, Mommy and Hannah

P.S. Give Nanna our love.

The Man Could Dance (Updated)

Kings of pop and Angels of television are not immune to death." - Rena

Wordless Wednesday

Three Stockings

This Christmas, I walked into my tried and true friend's house.
She always makes her house smile.
It smelled delicious and the decorations winked at me from the walls.

But when I looked at her mantle, I saw three big, fat teardrops.

Three stockings.
Three stockings instead of 4.

And I could not shake those 3 lonely stockings.
How she had the gumption to hang only three stockings this year.
How she must have felt while doing it.
Knowing that the 4th person was off hanging his stocking elsewhere.

I don't think I could have hung the stockings if it were me.
But that is how my friend is.
Strong.
Faithful.
Mindful of the little hands that will open the stockings on Christmas morning.

I left thinking her stocking must feel pretty empty this year.

So I asked God.... why, how and help.

He reminded me that Mary and Joseph had one less stocking to hang themselves.

Though Jesus did rise from the dead, he very soon separated from his earthly mother and father, who loved him dearly. Regardless of God's higher ways, I feel absolutely positive it was heart-wrenching for them. He completed their family. Then He was gone.

From a very humanly perspective, it makes no sense.

Why would the person who was prophesied to be the ruler of a new Kingdom die a horrible death and then come back to life only to go away again? For that matter, why was the King born in a stable? If you think about it all from their perspectives, it doesn't make sense. But now we understand. There was plan all along.

From an earthly perspective, those 3 stocking are 3 daggers to the heart. It makes no earthly sense for a God-fearing woman to have to hang only 3 stockings to celebrate the birth of her Lord and Savior. I don't come close to understanding it.

However, God whispers that He does have a plan. A higher plan. A plan we don't understand but that will glorify Him to the highest. "Faith is being sure of what you hope for and certain of what you do not see.'

And as for the three stockings....I feel badly about those images. If (when) my friend reads this, I don't want to leave her with that visual in her mind! So, I'm going to try something different:

They should not be three tears or three daggers, but they should represent from now on, the One who is enacting His plan, and my friend's faith in Him...

The Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit.

A Mother's Broken Heart

After my last post about my son and how I felt so awful about his yellow jacket stings on the 2nd day of school, my pain was paled by some devastating news about a friend from our old church.

Jan Majers' son Justin, a recent graduate from OSU, was in India doing mission work and was killed there yesterday. I know no details, and I honestly, I don't really need to know. Just pray.

(note: it could be no coincidence that the Verse of the Day that appeared on my blog site today is this: “For to me, to live is Christ and to die is gain.” (Philippians 1:21) )

When Things Happen That Don't Make Sense

When I was driving to Thomas last week,
I started prayin' for a few of my friends...
a few of my friends who are struggling

with sick parents
unsure job outlooks
discouraging news
and broken promises

and all of those emotions
opened up the frustrations in my own life
that I am dealing with right now

It felt like my heart had been laid open.

and then I stuck this old, random CD into my player
and heard this song.

It was like a little Neosporin on my heart
and I hope it will soothe any of you out there
who are hurting too.

You probably remember it.

"If You Want Me To" - by Ginny Owens
The pathway is broken
And The signs are unclear
And I don't know the reason why You brought me here
But just because You love me
the way that You do
I'm gonna walk through the valley
You want me to

Chorus: Cause I'm not who I was When I took my first step
And I'm clinging to the promise You're not through with me yet
so if all of these trials bring me closer to you
Then I will go through the fire
If You want me to

It may not be the way I would have chosen
When you lead me through a world that's not my home
But You never said it would be easy
You only said I'd never go alone

ya oh oh no
So When the whole world turns against me
And I'm all by myself
And I can't hear You answer
my cries for help
I'll remember the suffering Your love put You through
And I will go through the darkness
If You want me to

When I cross over Jordan, I'm gonna sing, gonna shout
Gonna look into your eyes and see you never let me down
so take me on the pathway that leads me home to you
And I will walk through the valley if you want me to
Yes, I will walk through the valley if you want me to





Prayer:
Lord, I pray for all those out there, especially my precious friends, who don't understand what is happening to them tonight. Help them to know that they don't have to understand to believe that You are bigger than their situation. Help them to see that You are in control, You love them deeply, and You are with them every step of the way. Grant them peace. Grant them wisdom. Grant them a special word of hope. Be with them in a very real way tonight, Lord Jesus. Amen

A Father Missed

I know it sounds weird to say you miss someone you never knew. But with every cell in my body, I miss Tom's dad. I know him only from pictures and stories, but David, or Grandpa David, as the kids may have called him, is very much in my mind and heart.

There are times when I smile at his mischievous personality as I did the other night when Tom told the kids a Lucky the Fox story, a brand of stories about a rascal of a fox....a brand of stories concocted by Tom's dad and told to Tom and his brothers when they were little.

There are times my heart aches as it does the times that Tom has to again explain to the kids that he lost his dad when he himself was a little boy. They always want to know more about his dad.

There are times when I am alone driving in my car and I begin reflecting on all the special times we are missing with his Dad. I then feel like a ridiculous, emotional woman as I find myself crying tears over a man I never met! I think he would have loved going to the kids' sporting events, and I can just picture him teasing them and loving them. I miss him for the kids. I miss him for Tom. I miss him for Carolyn. And I miss him for myself.

Breather

A Deep Breath of Air. A Moment to Relax. Some Clarity of mind. Some Peace in Amidst the Uncertainty. Some Solace. A bit of a Pity Party. Time away. Introspection. Hurting Heart. Be Still My Mind. God Lead My Thoughts. A Party in San Antonio. Warm Weather. Sleeping In. A Voice in the Wind. Rest. A Friendz Listening Ear. SNAP OUT OF IT! Roller Coaster. God is Good. He Gave me This: The rain is coming down in Bucketfulls. My child needs Markers. It can't wait till tomorrow. We Go. I Trudge. She Frolicks. I Stew. On the Way Out, in a Dark, Rain Pelted Parking Lot, she Twirls. "I am so THANKFUL," she laughs, as the drops drench her pigtails. Looking upward, she says again slowly and with more seriousness, "I am so THANKFUL." I write this one down in my book of memories. Too precious... and humbling too. One day a little later, while Admiring the Azaleas in Woodward with Nana, Papa, and the kids, Dad says offhandedly, "This life went a lot faster than I thought it was going to." Just a little thing. I think he meant nothing by it. But that it really did go by fast. That one made me stop too. And Just Helped the Thunderclouds Slide Away. And then the Dream. I was at Granny's house. It was late.... past midnight. Don't have any idea why I was there that late. Maybe we were having a quilting party. Anyway, I fell asleep on the couch and she on the daybed... a little later I woke up and thought I should go. But instead, I went over to where Granny was sleeping, and I laid down beside her, real close. I cuddled with my Granny. And as I laid there thinking how much I loved her, I looked on the plaster wall, where she had been writing some stuff in red ink. And I realized what I saw were her marking the days of her life... and she was counting the ones she still had to live until she could Go To See What She's Been Waiting For All Her Life. The Streets of Gold. The Pearly Gates. But it wasn't disturbing... the Dream that is. It was Peaceful and Happy. I felt so Close to Her. And then One More Thing... One More Cool Thing.... Teacher Appreciation Week came. I've been working towards it since July 07. And the closer I got to it, the more I realized that it wasn't just Teacher Appreciation, but Staff Appreciation... and with a few of my activities, I had excluded the staff. It began really bothering me. Besides that, I wondered to God if I was spending too much of my precious time on this dumb PTA thing. How could that be the work of Jesus? Well, first of all, the week was truly blessed. Everyone helped. No one forgot! I had exactly the number of volunteers I needed for each activity. It was almost strange how well everything went. And then on Tuesday evening, as I went to pick up the 80 loaves of donated bread for the teachers (not nearly enough for the 208 staff members), I was blindsided by bread. I left Farrell's Organic Bread with enough bread to fill up the back of the Suburban (Zippy) and then some. I have never seen that amount of bread in my life! When the girls and I got home and counted, we counted... get this.. exactly 209 loaves of bread. Enough yeast for everyone. And then one. It was the closest thing to the Manna from Heaven I have ever experienced. I felt like the boy with the fishes and the loaves. It was really awesome... and I know God had a hand in it. He provided. He gave me assurance that I was doing exactly what He wanted me to do. I took a Deep Breath. I am Back.

A Double Whammy

Tonight, as I checked on the score of our game (OUCH!), I happened to click on a news site where the top story was about ORU, and how the tenured faculty had voted "no faith" in current President Richard Roberts. (DOUBLE OUCH). Not to be confused with the Board of Regents, this group of people (don't know how many) made a resolution (non-binding) basically announcing their feelings of no confidence in Richard. Excuse me while I throw up. Having been affiliated with ORU for 8+ years, (admittedly as an outsider), I have had nothing but wonderful opinions and interactions with President Roberts. To see him, his family and many who love this university going through this battle is.... well.... like dipping my arms in a pot of boiling water. It hurts! It stings! And the healing will take a long time! And if I feel this way, my goodness... how others closer to the situation must feel. I have always felt like God has put us at ORU for a reason. Only Jehovah God in Heaven could have matched me up with this good-looking basketball junkie, all the while secretly matching my sister up with another handsome basketball player, then to (of all things) find a way to make them both Division I basketball coaches and um, while He was at it, decided that they would work together at the same school, which just happened to be ORU??????? A place we could call home! A place that our children love to go! A place to be proud of! A place we pray for. A place that is part of us. A place that is being torn up right now. I don't know the truth. I don't know the answers. I know A LOT of people are loving it. But I am hating it, and I am asking for your prayers. Not your judgments. That He has made clear is HIS to do. And it is a lesson I am learning myself. Will you pray for this ministry, this university, and our family? Pray that we will trust in the Lord with all our hearts and rely not on our own understanding... that in all our ways we will acknowledge Him and He will direct our paths.

I Didn't Know She'd Take It So Hard

You've heard about those people who have a special connection with nature. Well, Ellie is one of those people. Last week, we found a frog (but maybe he's really a toad) at her school. So, she named him Trojan the frog (which she pronounces Trojran.) Anyway, we took pretty good care of him, at least better care than our last frog, Squiggles, who we nearly killed. We even bought him some tiny crickets to eat at PETCO. And I for the first time in my life witnessed a frog slurping up a bug with his tongue. But the time had come to let Trojan go free. I could tell he was looking a bit sluggish and we took him to a nature preserve to let him hop to freedom. Ellie was crushed. She agonized over where we would leave him and then cried real tears when he jumped off to his new, green home. She has a soft heart and a big heart and I'm so happy she's mine!!!

Bye, Bye My Friendz

Cue the sad music. Can you hear it playing? I can, just as well as I can feel the tears running down my cheeks. Our friends, who have been part of our lives for 8 years, have moved away. I guess I am pretty lucky to be my age and not to really have had anyone I love move far away. But it doesn't make my sadness any less real. I can't tell you how my heart aches when I think of Corey, Nicole, Jourdan and C.J. not being around next basketball season. They have added so much to our time at ORU. Mostly, they have added FUN. It took me awhile to get to know Nicole, but let me tell you, I KNOW that girl because she shares. And she shares. Let me just put it this way, she talks about things that no other girl has ever said to me. Oh girl, I wish you were here now, just to crack me up again. Not that's it been all laughs. We have been through some pretty tough stretches together. Basketball losses. Husbands being away for long stretches. And terribly, the loss of her little girl. But through it all, I have to say Nicole's faith has made her a shining star. She has picked me up off the floor before, her soft voice saying, "It's OK Annie... God has a reason for this." And I do know He has a reason for this too, she and her family leaving. I KNOW that I know... and in my sadness, I find comfort in the blessing that has come to the Williams family. They are less than 3 hours from their native Georgia. Corey's new job is a great opportunity to work at a very strong school under a well-respected coach. I am truly happy for them. I know it sounds dramatic, but I don't know if I'll ever stop missing Nicole and her family. I hope she knows how dear she and her family have become to us in the last 8 years!!!!!

Our Last Skidamarinky Doo

Friday was the girls' last day of school. Normally, it is a day I welcome. I usually don't fall into too much sentimentality (oh boo-hoo, it's my child's last day of kindergarten,) but this May 25th, the sentimentality fell into me. It has been THE BEST year. Kami's teacher, Mrs. Zemanek, has been challenging, sweet, fun, interesting, organized, encouraging, and engaging, a fabulous 3rd grade teacher. She's irreplacable. And Ellie's teacher, Mrs. Swaim, is just a jewel. So sweet and laid back and amazing with those kiddos. The pied piper of kindergarten teachers is she. The whole class can be in an uproar, and she begins quietly singing... and no kidding, I have witnessed this several times... within 30 seconds they are all sitting around her singing too. Here she is sitting on her new rocking chair that the class gave to her (you can see another picture of it below) surrounded by Ellie's classmates. As the class stood in line at the door, singing their final song together, I found myself wanting to capture the moment forever. It hit me hard that it was Ellie's last Skidamarinky Doo with Mrs. Swaim. It is a song that she ended her days with all year long. Here are the words:

Skidamarinky Dinky Dink, Skidamarinky Doo, I Love YOU!

I Love you in the morning and in the afternoon.

I Love you in the Evening and Underneath the Moon,

Oh, Skidamarinky Dinky Dink, Skidamarinky Doo, I Love You!

(Yes, I do!) I Love You (See you Tomorrow!)

I LOVE You, Doo, Boop-Boopy Doo, Yeah!