It Happened

Earlier this evening I came across something I've never seen before. Four pages of paper with scribbling and phrases written on both back and front. I don't recall ever seeing them, but I was the author. They were among some papers in a drawer of our desk and were written in the days immediately following the accident. I do not feel like going into the scribblings nor all of the phrases. They hurt too much. I do want to tell you, though, of one~

"I saw ddy"

this one written phrase ripped through my heart. Proof that I did see him, that I did want to go to him, and that I was sent back. Proof that the accident did happen, that it changed our lives, that it is in the past, and that life does go on. But it hurts and I don't think crying will ever make it go away.

It's my birthday month!

and you know what?

I think I'll celebrate all month!

I intend to do just that. Every day, for the rest of my life~

A dear friend of ours made a recent trip to Moscow and took some amazing pictures. This one struck me for several reasons. First of all, it's amazing in the colors and ornate touches. And yet this was built in a communist country where beauty was not shared with everyone~only the elite. Secondly, that I would never have expected to see a building like this in Moscow. I had a very different image of Moscow and her architecture. Snapshots such as this one caused me to go online and look at other buildings just as ornate, just as colorful. Thanks, Jim France, for bringing this new knowledge and beauty to my world~

A dear friend sent a video that just touched my heartstrings and I wanted to share it with you. Apparently this is someone that is trying out much like the American Idol show and this is his act, if you will. It's on YouTube and I hope you can just click and see it. I think he has talent and what is sung has always been one of my favorite songs for decades. In fact, it was played at our Jenny's wedding and brought tears to many. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did and that it brings a smile to your heart just as it did to mine. And as always, may you have a very blessed tomorrow~
Terry Fator, What a Wonderful World

This image grabbed my heart. And wouldn't let it go. O precious Lord, how great Thou Art.

A friend of mine, Angela Reese, took this picture as she and her family were hiking Rag Mountain in Virginia. Never heard of the area, but when I saw this snapshot of a creek they crossed, it hit me~our sins and our past wash away just as this water flows over its stones and debris. I love the way God uses subtle nudges to remind us of His presence and His love. There are times I feel so insignificant and unworthy of all that He has provided for. What an awesome, awesome Father I worship and adore.

If you read my family blog, you already know that Friday afternoon was heartrending for us. It is still resounding through our hearts and minds. We took time today to just be alone and allow Him to comfort us and for us to acknowledge the many blessings we've received. We know He is in control; we know He will prevail; and we know, without a shadow of doubt, that He will continue to bless us even with the challenges thrown at us. Just like the stones and debris this water flows over, He will continue to take us over the obstacles. Thank you, Father, for loving us so much~I shall continue to praise you and tell others how great You are.

2008~it's going to be a really great year. I've decided that. And deciding is half the battle. We have a choice each day. To make it better, or to wallow in everything that's wrong. I have bad days. I have days where I can't speak without stuttering and days where I can't remember words or put sentences together. Those are the days I try to stay alone so that I don't have to see pity and sympathy in the eyes of those that love me. Johnny wants to think these days will get better. I think it's going to be a way of life for us~the 'new me', if you will. If it passes, great! If it doesn't, then we'll deal with it. Either way, it will be our choice.

My dad used to say there are only two things we have no control over. We all have to die, and we all have to pay taxes. Everything else is a choice. There will be things out of our control and actions will happen that we can't stop. But what we can do is control our reactions to them. Do I have regrets? Shoot yeah, but because of my choices, I am the person I am today. And although that person isn't perfect, I like her. She's stronger, she's more intuitive to another's pain, and she's far wiser than she was a few years ago.

Dad also used to say, "time stops for no man". It doesn't. As much as I wanted time to stand still so I could hold on to Jenny and capture forever that sweet smell behind her right ear, I couldn't. As much as I wanted time to stop so I could tell my grandmother just one more time how much I loved her, I couldn't. And as much as I wanted to hold my dad in my arms as he crossed over, I couldn't. Time marches on. And it carries us with it. We can, however, choose the walk.

I choose to put my hand firmly in His; my footsteps directly within His; and, my eyes on the beautiful place I know is there. I am so excited with this new year. There is this feeling in my soul that says it's going to be such an awesome time for our family that I simply can't wait to see how God is going to present it all to us. May 2008 be just as good for you~

This was on Susanne's blog and I wanted to share it with you~

These two sweethearts came into my life March of 1983~and they've remained through laughter and tears, challenges and victories, births and funerals, and the beauty and sadness of life in general. They have blessed my life in ways they'll never realize and brought smiles to my heart when it needed comfort. I know now, as a parent, I can look back and wish things had been different, words had been said or not, actions been done or left undone~but through it all they have grown and matured into beautiful young ladies . I am so blessed and so proud to be a part of their life. Stacey, Leslie, I promise to always be near, to always love you, and to always cover you in prayer.

Nativity scenes. I've always loved them. Growing up, we had one that my father brought back when he returned from overseas. It was very simple, just Mary, Joseph, the baby, and an angel. One cow and a sheep, that over the years lost a leg. I loved finding it when mother would bring it out of the attic with the other decorations. Now, I don't know where you worship or what you believe, but as my father aged he began to resent seeing nativity sets during the Christmas season. He had his reasons and they were valid. To a point.

I know we should celebrate His birth each day and that we should also celebrate His death, because in dying, He arose. I know all that and I believe it wholeheartedly. But, in his attempt to get the point across to us, he didn't want Christmas carols sung either. To do so, in his eyes, would be to appear worldly. And in his swing away from the scriptures the World tried to place on Christmas, he missed the whole point of what a beautiful story it is. And if this is the only time that most of our world ever takes the time to hear it, then we need to share it. And not be afraid.

While shopping with Jenny downtown recently, we came across a beautiful nativity set. She asked Ian who the baby was. He promptly said, "Moses!" She couldn't get him to say it was the baby Jesus. Now I don't think that's any fault of Brandon nor Jenny. I thought it showed knowledge on Ian's part that there was another biblical figure who's story began as a baby! But sadly, this is the only time each year that some children see parents hovering over a baby in a straw manger, with animals nearby, shepherds, and men bearing gifts. I'm sure they ask questions and I pray that they are given a patient answer, if no other than "that's how Jesus was born". And just maybe from that planted seed, more questions will follow and someday someone will have the answers to bring them to the Lord.

Share the nativity story. Share it with the holiness it deserves, the excitement of this miracle, and sing with feelings the beautiful hymns normally reserved for this time of year. And may your Christmas be filled with His peace, His grace, and His mercy. And if you have questions of your own, I pray that you will find someone to help you with the answers.

I remember getting up long before daylight and thinking no one would hear me if I crept very quietly to the Christmas tree. Did I really think mother wouldn't hear me?!

I remember just quivering with excitement and wondering what would greet us when we were finally allowed to get up and go to the tree. You see, Santa didn't wrap any presents so gifts were always laid out with such care. The only wrapped presents would be taken later to grandparents and cousins. Oh the awe of that first sight of everything Santa brought!

I remember thinking that in the pre-dawn light, a tree couldn't look more beautiful. That is until~I saw our Christmas tree mirrored in my young daughter's eyes. Then I realized the real meaning of the magic of Christmas.

President Franklin D. Roosevelt: Yesterday, December 7, 1941 - a date which will live in infamy. The United States Of America was suddenly and deliberately attacked by Naval and Air Forces of the Empire of Japan. It is obvious that planning the attack began many weeks ago, during the intervening time the Japanese Government has deliberately sought to deceive the United States by false statements and expressions of hope for continued peace. The attack yesterday on the Hawaiian Islands has caused severe damage to American military forces, I regret to tell you that over three thousand American lives have been lost. No matter how long it may take us to over come this pre-meditated invasion, the American people in their righteous might will win through to absolute victory. Because of this unprovoked, dastardly attack by Japan, I ask that the congress declare a state of War.

Admiral Yamamoto: I fear all we have done is to awaken a sleeping giant.

There are moments in your life that make you

and sets the course of who you're going to be.

Sometimes they're little, subtle moments.

Sometimes, they're big moments you never saw coming.

No one asks for their life to change, but it does.

It's what you do afterwards that counts.

That's how you find out who you are.

{Thank you, God, for never leaving me alone

during the big moments when I needed you

and the little moments

when I only thought I did it by myself.}

It's Thanksgiving and I want to thank you, John, for being the one I always dreamed of. You bring such joy to my life and a stability to the world. Thank you for being more than just my husband, I cannot imagine life without you. forever and a day, me~

My heart is in tatters. I learned earlier this evening that at a time when I most needed to recognize someone, I didn't. Apparently, I looked into his eyes and right through them. So busy with gathering up a group of second graders and lost in my thoughts, the moment passed that would have brought needed joy to both our hearts. He remembers it. I don't. I was never aware we were within hugging distance, close enough to speak, close enough to acknowledge. I am so sorry, dear one. I never knew. And now that I do, I don't know what to say.

A lesson for us all~take the time. Always, always take the time to look at someone. Not through them. The flip side to this would be, don't ever be hesitant to reach out.

This afternoon I took it upon myself to clean some areas that had long needed organizing. In doing so, I found items that enveloped me with memories of yesteryears. Old love letters and notes passed in class brought back the sweetness of first loves, stolen kisses, and dreams of a young girl in love. Snapshots revealed more than just the people in the pictures~sounds, smells, and conversations tumbled in around my heart. Reading through old school newspapers caused me to stop and wonder where those people are now, and if they are happy.

And then the phone rang. It was Johnny. My Johnny. The man that loves the woman I am today. The man that has stayed in love with her for almost 25 years. Maybe not the starry~eyed love that I felt so many years ago, but he brings a love that I know will last. I find it comforting that he still brings butterflies to my tummy when I see him across a room. When his eyes meet mine, I love the way his smile is for me, and for me alone. We didn't know each other during those high school years or the adventurous college days. We met after broken hearts and shattered dreams had dimmed the notion of true love. After the toll of stressful adult life made us wonder if dreams were really meant to come true.

Late at night, after our daughter was fast asleep in bed, and I was trying to get everything ready for the next day, he would come to me. He would find me and bring me into the kitchen, where the radio was. And he would dance with me. It became an endearing part of our relationship. Long after our children were grown and gone, long after housework became less important, and long after our youth faded, this man, this beautiful man, still dances with me. We still dance in the kitchen.

Trust. Small word. Big idea. Jenny posted this tonight on their family page and the look on Noah's face grabbed hold of my heart. I know he's looking at his mommy. I know how dearly this child loves that woman. And I know how much he depends on her. For many months she was his food source, his pacifier, his hiding place. He knows nothing more than to feel safe with her and to trust her totally and completely.
It's difficult for me to remember trusting anyone this much. As we age, we grow cynical and trusting others doesn't come as easily as the hurts of life begin to accumulate. I love my daughters and I adore my husband. And I trust them. But not as much as the look in this little man's eyes as he gazes at his mother. Which makes me somewhat sad. We lose so much as we age.
There is one that I can trust and always feel safe. Within my heavenly Father's hands I know everything will be alright. That whatever I need and whatever happens will happen only within His realm and I can rest knowing that He is always there, always loving, always safe.
Hold on to this look, dear Noah, for as long as you can. And as you age, know that you can always trust your mother and father. And you can trust me, sweet child. I'll be here, forever and a day~

Imagine

Imagine if you will, an utterly beautiful day. An April morning. It's Friday and you have the day off! You are filled with such peace and happiness you almost can't stand it. A day of laughter. And love. You're strong, you're in control, you're invicible. You're safe.

Now, during this beautiful day, it's time for a nap! You're comfortable, relaxed. 'Just lie here for 30 minutes'. Easy. You drift away.

Dreams come and go, haunting, scary. Your fears wrapped up in everything that's ever made you uncomfortable. They're so real. So real and so frightening. Finally, finally, you wake and there's your best friend, your lover, your rock. And you begin to relax. Wow, what a dream, you say. And you notice, you're not lying where you were, but that's okay. It's not really a problem. Yet.

Tubes, wires, bandages, something attached to your throat that prevents you from talking, breathing. Panic begins to rise, and fear clogs your throat. Swiftly your brain races to find some logic to connect the pieces of this horrible puzzle that's becoming your reality.

Throwing back the covers, you find temporary relief that your legs look normal. While getting out of bed, someone has to catch you as you slide to the floor. Who do those legs belong to? Not you! You just tried to walk. And couldn't.

You ask, 'what's happened?' 'What day is it?' And you feel his anguish before you see his tears. You hear, but you don't comprehend. 'That's, what? 77 days?' He doesn't need to nod because you feel it inside with a sinking, sinking feeling. Something is wrong. Something is horribly, horribly wrong. Seventy-seven days? Of your life? When? How? What happened? And this is only the beginning.

Does our heart not melt at the sight of a sleeping child? Do we not remember with clarity the smell of their freshness, the soft whisper of their breathing, and the way they fold into us when we reach for them?

Jenny posted this picture of Ian, asleep after a morning of playing at the park. It touched me, as I recalled his mother in much this same repose. "Ah, time doth stop for no man." Sleep well, sweet prince.