One...At a Time.

My house was a wreck! For several weeks my two young grandchildren had been at my home more than they had been at their own. On the days when they had not been there, I was working twelve hour days, an hour away from home. So, I had been too busy to notice that my house was a wreck. But on Saturday, I had a free morning. There was no place I HAD to be and no grandkiddies that needed tending to. As I looked around with an unoccupied eye, I could clearly see “the wreck.”

I went into the kitchen to put turn on the coffee pot and there was a sink full of rinsed, but unwashed dishes and something sticky spilled on the floor. In the living room there was a make-shift bed made up from every available blanket in the house where my grandson had slept a couple of nights before. All twenty-two of Alexander’s “Thomas the Tank Engine” Videos appeared to be scattered, unrewound under the TV cabinet and their empty cases were strewn all over the room.

As I walked across the dining room, I stepped on one of Elizabeth’s blankets. It crunched! I picked it up. She had apparently dumped an entire bowl of goldfish crackers out and tossed a blanket over them. “Are one-year-old children truly capable of making booby-traps for unsuspecting grandmas to fall into?” I asked myself. Her older brother had dumped what appeared to be an entire box of Cheerios onto his wooden railway track to represent an avalanche. AVALANCHE is Right!! There were Cheerios and Goldfish Crackers everywhere!

There were more books on the floor in front of the bookcase than in it. The six empty toy bins testified to the fact that their usual occupants were lying all over the house like so many uninvited cousins form Milwalkee who won’t go home. The balcony was strewn with empty iced tea cans and water bottles that had to be bagged up for recycling.

The dining table was covered with a various sundry collection of stuff like unopened mail, homework, Goldfish Cracker and Cheerio boxes. “If they are going to DUMP them out…why, oh why can’t they THROW them out?” I sighed. There was also a pile of work papers that got put up there because if I leave them on the computer table and Elizabeth finds a crayon lying around, she will mistake them for stretched canvas and scribble all over them.

The bedroom looked like someone with a dirty laundry gun had emptied a round of ammunition onto the floor on one side of the bed and a shipment from “Stuffed Creatures International” had been dropped on the other side. My Journals, which had been neatly stacked on a shelf, had apparently been attacked by a “toddler tornado” because they were untidily spread around underneath my desk. And the bathroom…well, we won’t even GO THERE!!

I poured a cup of coffee, sat down at my cluttered desk, shook my head, and said to myself, “It’s all just too much, even if I spend ALL day cleaning up, I probably won’t get it done and it’s just going to get messed up again tonight when they come back over, anyway. Maybe I’ll just pretend that the maid is coming in next week and ignore the whole darn mess.”

I started to get up and knocked a notebook off the desk with my elbow. As I bent over to pick it up, a quotation I had jotted down on the opened page caught my eye. “Every journey is accomplished ONE step at a time. Don’t stop now.” Whoa! I sat back down and scanned the rest of the page.

The quote was part of a lesson I was preparing for an upcoming Middle School Youth Class that I was teaching. I was planning to stress the importance of some note-worthy one person contributions to society in hopes of showing them how significant they are as individuals.

After the quote, I had written: “Mountains are climbed one foot at a time. Marathons are run one kilometer at a time. Symphonies are composed one note at a time. Novels are written one word at a time. Graduation happens on class at a time. Skyscrapers are built one floor at a time. Wars are won one battle at a time.” "And"...I sighed, “Houses are cleaned…”

I set the notebook down and walked into the kitchen with my now empty coffee mug. I opened the dishwasher and started loading it, one plate at a time. Pretty soon the sink was empty and the dishwasher was humming away.

I decided to tackle the videos next. After sitting for what seemed like forever on the floor in front of the TV rewinding, resleeving, and reshelving Thomas and his friends the overwhelming feeling of not being able to get it all done began to fade. As I started tossing hot wheel cars, action figures, and musical toddler gadgets (Why do all their toys make NOISE?) into their respective now-not-so-empty bins, I began to realize that I actually might be able to make a major dent in the mess.

So, maybe I wouldn’t get it ALL done in ONE morning, but I could sure get some of it finished if I just did what I could. Winston Churchill once said, “Wars are not won by evacuations.”

“And”, I mused, “Houses are not put in order by running off to the mall.”

My Way Back

I felt disconnected from life, from loved ones, even from God. Although there were always other people around, I felt isolated and alone. When had this overwhelming weariness started? How long had this feeling of utter emptiness been here? Where had this unbearable burden of hopelessness come from? How long had I been living with this debilitating depression that had stolen all my joy? I wondered if I would ever again find rest for my soul.

Wait! I am a Christian. A follower of Almighty God. I am not supposed to be DEPRESSED! I am supposed to walk in “Peace that Surpasses Understanding” and “Faith that Moves Mountains”. I am supposed to be “More than a Conqueror” who rises above and overcomes and stands in victory. So what is the matter with me?

I know, I will talk my way out of it! Everyone knows that I could win a marathon with my mouth. I will tell anyone who will listen about the faithfulness and goodness of the Lord. I will go on and on about the wonderfulness of God’s mercy and about how His grace gives strength to overcome temptation. Surely speaking the truth to others will convince my own heart!

Whoa! Why is this not working? Why is my heart still empty and unsatisfied? Why do my words of encouragement to others return as nothing but a blaring gong to my own ear?

I know, Prayer is the Answer! Good old reliable prayer. That marvelous weapon for fighting everything from poverty to pride! Surely prayer will deliver me! I will beg. I will plead. I will bargain with the Father in the Name of the Son. It has to work!

So, where is the consolation? Why is my heart still so heavy? Is this chasm of pain so deep that even God's voice cannot penetrate it? Perhaps the Lord has grown so weary of my complaints that He is not listening anymore. Maybe God just does not care!

Wait, don't go there! God has to care! The Scriptures say so and they cannot lie. Ah, the Bible, that is the ticket! The Anointed Word of God. It has guided me through over two decades of trials and tribulations with its Wisdom. Surely God's Word holds the truth that will set me free!

Oh dear, something is wrong! I cannot bring myself to open the Bible. It is after all, a two-edged sword. What if all I can find are passages that convict and heap burning coals of condemnation on my head? What if I read twenty chapters and nothing stirs my spirit? I know, I’ll read Psalms! Surely, that will help. All those people crying out to God in their despair, boy can I relate! But what if entering into all that weeping and worrying just makes me more depressed? No, I cannot risk that, better not open the book, what would be the point?

Maybe I should just give up. Maybe there are no answers. Maybe deliverance is just a myth. Maybe I am to exhausted to care anyway.

And yet, in spite of my physical weariness and my emotional barrenness, there is something…deep within my spirit that refuses to throw in the towel. A tiny seed of FAITH, planted by the hand of the Father, nurtured by the love of the Savior, and so deeply rooted by the Spirit of God that it refuses to be chocked out. A kernel of HOPE that refuses to be silenced, crying out to the Almighty, “Help Me Find the Way--Lead Me Back to You!”

“The Way Back” did not come in a lightening bolt of revelation. It wove its way subtly, over many weeks, through the love and concern of my brothers and sisters in Christ.

It came through Russ and Sandi, whose council I have not always appreciated, but have consistently found to be so rich in Godly Wisdom that it is foolishness not to heed it.

It came through Diana and Sandra, who never shy away from telling me what God has shown them, good or bad, concerning me, always sharing this truth with loving compassion.

It came through Pastor Jim, who graciously accepts me, just as I am, even when I am unlovable and breaking his shepherd’s heart.

It came through Rosie, Mary, and Malinda, who all go out of their way to pull me aside and dare me not to return their hugs, even when my walls are up or I am buried in my shell.

It came through Asneth, whose friendship and eagerness (yes eagerness!) to help me care for Alexander are more precious than gold.

It came through Videll, who won’t let me duck out the back door if he feels I need prayer.

It came through Susan, whose steadfast faith in the midst of the most shattering trial strengthened my own faith more then she will ever realize.

It came through Reverand Bob, whose words testify to the glory of God every time he opens his mouth to speak.

It came through Bill, leading me through worship every Sunday morning into the presence of the Lord where my soul found refreshment that enabled me to keep going, no matter how heavy the burden was.

It came through Gale whose quick wit and unconventional perspective of common things, generate laughter that brings more healing power than any medicine ever could.

It came through Ariel, who despite his own apprehensions and insecurities, helped relieve my burdens by taking over leadership of the Youth Ministry and through Amy who jumped in to fill the gap that my stepping down from that leadership left. Watching God work through them reminded me that the Lord is able to take care of whatever we release to Him and enabled me to let go of other things that I held to tightly.

It came through the Youth. The High School girls, Britney, Rachael, Bethany, Jena, and Cheniece who constantly encouraged me and reminded me that I am cared about. Through the Junior High Kids who shared their hearts with me, trusting me with their questions even when I was ill prepared. These young people, all of them, have taught me far more than I will ever teach them.

It came through Keith, Bobby, John, and Jim who go out of their way to help me with dumb stuff I cannot handle, like flooded carpets, locked up keys, and broken windows.

It came through other "moms" who helped ease the stress of caring for a perpetual-motion-three-year-old by watching him once in a while so that I could sit down and finish a cup of coffee.

“The Way Back” came through my church family, in so many ways, as they function one with another in the Love of Christ. They prayed with me. They cried with me. They were gracious to me even when I was not so gracious in return. I will never be able to thank them enough for the loving kindness they have shown me.

I write these words today, with overwhelming gratitude in my heart to my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, For it is His tender mercy that gave me the undeserved privilege of sharing fellowship with believers who truly understand what it means to be Servants of the Lord.

Indoor Snow Storm

The story you are about to hear is true. The names have not been changed to protect the innocent, because quite frankly, all the characters in it are guilty. It happened in the summer of 2006 and in April of 2007 I re-created some of the messier parts to accomodated a slide show presentation that I created for a talent-show program at my church using this story. (Picture is from that Slideshow)

Alexander was bored. At least that is what he told me. He was watching a DVD and playing with his “Thomas” Train. He looked pretty busy to me, but nevertheless, he insisted that he was bored. I asked him what would make him, “Not bored”. He said, “Do you have any flour, Gramma?” This question was prompted by the fact that a year or so earlier I had given him a small bag of flour which he dumped all over his wooden railroad to represent snow. It had been a horrendous pain to clean up, so I have conveniently NOT had any flour ever sense.

When I told him that I was sorry, I didn’t have any flour, he whined, “But, Gramma, I need some snow for the Island of Sodar.” (Now for those of you who have never been around five-year-old boys let me help you out a bit, the Island of Sodar is where Thomas the Tank Engine and his Friends live.)

“Well,” I replied, “The paper in my shredder looks kind of like snowflakes, you can use that if you want to.” He wanted to!

A few minutes later he asked me if I would help him drop the snow down on the tracks. I started to do so, but he got all upset and told me that I was, “Doing it all WRONG!” After several minutes of his berating me because I wasn’t simulating the snowfall, EXACTLY like he wanted, I had had enough. I tossed a handful of shredded paper at him and told him to do it himself, if he was going to be so picky about how it got done.

Well, that ticked him off. He picked up a great big handful of homemade snowflakes and flung it at me with all of his kindergarten might. So, I took another handful and set it on top of his head. He responded by telling me I was being “annoying” and hurled another handful my way.

About this time, his baby sister decided that she wanted a piece of the action, so she grabbed up a tiny handful of confetti and tried to throw it. All it did was drop onto her feet in front of her, but nevertheless, she squealed in delight like she had just thrown one out of the park.

The unbridled joy, our little toddler displayed in her bungling attempt at simulated snowball fighting, struck Alex and me as the funniest thing we had ever seen. We both laughed, which elicited another gleeful squeal from his charming sister.

After that the craziness really took off. Alexander put a handful of paper on my head, I put one on Elizabeth’s and pretty soon the three of us were tossing snow all over the place as we giggled in ecstasy.

This went on for half an hour or so, and then Alex decided that it would be fun to build a mountain. He and I started gathering up bunches of shredded paper and forming them into a pile. Just when it was starting to resemble a miniature replica of the Matterhorn, Elizabeth decided she was going to kick it down. She attempted to, missed completely, and fell flat on her diapered bottom. Once again, the three of us broke out in hysterics! Alex, who was in a rather precarious crouching position, laughed so hard that he lost his balance and fell forward, right into the middle of the confetti mountain.

I was sitting there, with tears running down my cheeks, wishing I had a camcorder, because what was going on in my living room was way more hilarious than stuff I have seen win the ten grand on America’s Funniest Videos.

By the time we ran out of steam, my house looked like the aftermath of hurricane Katrina. It took three hours to clean up the mess, and I’m not sure my Hoover is ever going to forgive me, but the sheer simple pleasure we derived by breaking out of the mold to do something wild and crazy together was so worth it! We had made a wonderful memory, and Alexander wasn’t bored anymore.

Highlights of 2008

I set up this BLOG several months ago with the intention of posting grand essays to it every week. But alas, in my oh-so-over-busy life, it has sat here empty until tonight. I have resolved however, to remedy that in 2009. Not because I anticipate my life getting less over-busy, for quite the opposite is more likely. But, well frankly, because I am finding that the busier my life gets, the more I need an outlet that feeds my soul and writing feeds my soul like nothing else.




As I reflect upon the crazy year that was 2008, with its roller-coaster stock-market, sky-rocketing-then plunging gas prices, record unemployment, housing crisis, bail-out mess, and the most sensational presidential election in history, I feel blessed to have survived it all.



To be quite honest, I feel more than blessed, if that is possible, because I not only survived it, but by God's grace, I thrived in it. In March, I saw the fulfillment of a dream when "Chicken Soup" bought and published one of my stories in "CHICKEN SOUP FOR THE ADOPTED SOUL".

In June I traveled to Jamaica to participate in the wedding of a dear friend’s daughter. It is a breathtakingly beautiful country. (as the picture above will attest) While I was there I had some very “no-way in the USA” experiences which included climbing up a waterfall and riding all over the country in a bus so loaded with passengers that we didn’t need seat belts because nobody could move enough to scratch their nose, much less fall out if the thing rolled over!

In September, my sister Denise and I participated in the Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure as part of TEAM MARTINI. We had a blast for a really good cause.

And in December, I was able to substantially increase my Bookkeeping and Tax Practice with the acquisition of a retiring colleague’s business.

It was a very eventful year indeed! One which I am sure none of us will soon forget. In looking back, I am humbled by everything the Lord did with my life, in spite of it all.

As we move into 2009 I am eagerly anticipating what lies ahead, because God has a plan. It is a good plan, full of hope and promise. Knowing that encourages me, I pray that it encourages you as well.

Happy New Year Everyone!