Boomerangs

Love is a challenge.

I reread what I posted maybe two weeks ago, wow, good stuff.
Love, love, love, love. I set myself up didnt'I? Absolutely.

I've learned that when I pontificate on something that has just inspired me, challenged me, and equipped me for good works I place myself in the middle of a pond as a decoy duck ready for the first shot!

I call them boomerangs out of nowhere. You look to see who shot it? You can't find the thrower! You know the mechanics or physics of a boomerang right? You throw it and it comes back at ya and if it is wood, watch out!

You through out the affirmation that God is amazing, you praise him, you declare your desire to serve him wholly and back at you with lightning speed comes something that causes you to duck!

Church related issues are the absolute worse. You don't expect it, you don't plan for it and out of the blue you see it coming and you don't have time to duck.

I propose that the thrower of the boomerang is none other than the evil one, I know a little fanatical sounding but true non the less. The evil one is never out in the open , it usually stands behind your best friend, your pastor, your confidant, your husband, your children. It puts someone else in front of it to take the blame.
You know those words spoken to a person by none other than Jesus, "Stand behind me Satan."

Love, still a clear message even for a boomerang from out of nowhere!

How to be successful in just one word........

Love. A four letter word that battled the other four letter word...Hate.
Love took care of hate, destroyed the power of it.
Every time we choose love we are thanking God.
Every time we choose love we are piling up a mountain of profit that has a return rate never to be matched!


Love. A word that uses four letters.
Those four letters have the power to turn situations into memorable, life changing, exhilirating experiences never to be forgotten or underestimated.

Hate. A word that uses four letters.
Those four letters have the power to turn situations into miserable, life changing, exhausting experiences never to be forgotten or underestimated.

Hate is a harsh word but every time we choose not to love we choose to hate.
We are faced with situations daily. We are all faced with comments, looks, situations, how do we respond? Do we love or do we hate?
If we love we will be full of knowledge, full of gifts, full of profit, full of full with no failures on our record.

If we hate we will experience nothing, have nothing, know nothing, and be nothing.
A thirteenth chapter in a book in the Bible states and confirms that.

There is nothing that can be boomeranged our way that can not be handled by Love, nothing. Love endures ALL things, bears ALL things, hopes ALL things, believes ALL things. Accomplishments fail, disentigrate, dissolve, crumble without love. What you do, your college degree, your spiritual accomplishments will get you no where without love.

Love fuels, love propels, love wins ALL the time, love remains positive ALL the time, love rises above, above, above, every cultural standard of success. Love is uncontainable, love NEVER FAILS.

Do you want success?
Do you really want success?
Then for every situation that comes your way.........LOVE.
To endure, to believe, to hope, to bear ALL things because of love, that is true success.

So,instead of asking a person, "What do you do?" We should be asking, "How are you loving?"

Ain't She Something!

Sarah Palin waits for the crowd to stop clapping. She begins and I am smitten. Though I am a woman I am often annoyed by a woman's voice from a podium, either too Tammy Fayish or too clip clopish. Sarah's put my criticism mode to rest, I am free to listen. I am free to be impressed.

Look at her, look at them, her children watching their mother give an historical address. Their mother is the closest to the presidency that any woman has ever been. She crosses the political lines and reaches into the woman's heart and says, "I understand, trust me." She reaches into your heart and makes you feel like a cup of tea and chat are in order.

Her speech is clear, direct, nononsense, compassionate, inspiring, and hopeful.
She let her chef go, what??? It makes me rethink my want for a chef.
I just need to buck up.

There is something that does frustrate me about her. Her juggling act, her amazing juggling act is more than I want to see. I'm always looking for rationalizations to explain my not so organized life, not going to find them around with Missy Sara. They were pulled right out from under my fanny as I listened to this sharp chick!

I'm hers! I want to do what needs to be done to get her elected. McCain is going to have to get use to this woman taking the thunder and the lighting, she's superwoman. I want to see this woman in the White House!

Missed The Mother of the Year Award Again!

Last Monday I travel to New England with my three younger children and a teenager in need of a ride. Tuesday I find myself with my father at his regular breakfast haunt. My husband calls and I roll my eyes. "Uh, Lynn, I'm, huh, having breakfast with my Dad... Can this wait?"

This husband of mine calls me all the time, we talk all the time, we see each other all the time and lest you think I mind this, I don't. It's just that when I am with someone else who I am rarely with then I'm frankly, bothered.

Lynn waits on the other end and begins, "Kathryn has been up since four in the morning with pain on her left side, it's probably not appendicitis. She says it is also near her bellybutton."

Everything stops. The breakfast table floats off, the people blur, the moment halts.

"Let me talk to her, Lynn."
"Kathryn, what hurts?"

I am a six hour car ride from home. My three younger children are clueless as to what is brewing at home, all they know is that soon they will be going to a football size island with their cousins facing a week of water fun. How am I going to face them with the news that their vacation is pending. How am I going to get to my daughter in pain with the lightning speed my insides are screaming for?

It takes me five seconds listening to Kathryn and I say to Lynn, "She needs to be seen by our pediatrician quick." The man moves into action and fully operates in his most fatherly maternal mode. He is known for this!

I call Kathryn's sister, Robyn, who is at West Chester University, forty minutes away, and she assures me that as soon as she knows where her dad and her sister will be landing she will be there. Chris our son is at Reading Area Community College for his first day of classes. But He prepares to kick into action.

I am six hours away from my daughter and my emotions are pulled. I want to just hop in the car but I am assured by Robyn that they can handle this.

We travel to the Island and get the children settled, my mom will keep them if I must travel home. My mind is lumbering down a hospital corridor with the sickest of sick. I am imagining the worst uttered from a doctor's mouth. Not Kathryn. I am wishing for it to be appendicitis. These are the unknown moments, anything is possible, the options are strewn randomly over the table.

So many families have a day in particular when all changes and nothing will be the same. Lynn keeps me updated with each step being followed. The ultrasound is not conclusive, not enough liquid or body fat to compress to reveal. (Another reason to put off the diet) She endures a CT scan that brings her to tears. Robyn is with her during this process providing the missing female/mom component .

Lynn calls, he's worried. He's beginning to wonder. Are they telling him everything. This could be it, the dreaded moment in time when everything swirls, the foundation shifts and the landscape is unfamiliar.

The day took longer than twenty-four hours, I'm sure. The cell phone rings for the millionth time and if it were human it would have been kissed a thousand times over and embraced. "Her appendicts was swollen, it needed to come out and the surgery went well."

Chris, Robyn, and her father were there for her recovery, I was not. Three little kids waiting for the news were relieved, of course for Kathryn but in their kidway, mainly because they didn't have to hop back in the car for six long hours.

Maybe I wasn't even one of the contenders for the Mother of the Year Award, but if I was, I missed it!

Free Falling Forgiveness

I have friend, Bill Gnade, who has a blog called "Contratimes." He has asked for a response to his blog posted on August 20. It would be beneficial to read his entire post but here in essence is his question:

"Do I, as a person who seeks to be approved of God by His grace and mercy and love, forgive others ONLY if they are repentant and contrite: do I forgive them ONLY if they ask for it? Or do I just forgive liberally, without condition?

If I do forgive without condition, do I forgive like God forgives? But we already know God forgives conditionally: He will not forgive those who do not forgive others. Does God forgive those who do not want to be forgiven? Does He forgive those who do not believe they've done anything wrong or that they have any debts?"


Here is my response:
To all of the questions that you ask, I would answer with a resounding yes. Yes, I forgive those who are repentant and contrite, that’s a beautiful thing, Yes, I forgive them if they ask for it, this makes one smile. Yes, I forgive liberally and without condition. This is tough but yes, I forgive! I am free to forgive and the focus is on the freedom.

We have been offered freedom. We are free to operate in love that enables us to cut an ugly cord of bitterness that desires to strangle, kill, and defeat.

Freedom to forgive offers me the opportunity to view the world, a group, a family, a person, a situation with a perspective that allows me freedom to love. The bondage of bitterness inhibits my ability to move freely through a given day.

The mechanics of forgiveness are beyond me as is the mechanics of the car I drive, the air-conditioner in my home offering me relief, the computer that I use to communicate. I marvel at how the internal workings of my person can shift and move in a new direction with the utterance of these three words: I forgive you. I am awed that I am free to utter these words, the very words that change the internal structure and inner workings of my being and allow a complete perspective change within myself. The mechanics are all about the life hid in Christ…

There was one day in history when Jesus offered me freedom. The significance of that day is beyond beyond and the freedom of that day is tsunami like. Overwhelmingly encompassing, grace like and endless as a roaming field bathed in the setting sun.. He loved me that day, loves me this day and my love for Him is expressed by using my gift He offered me, the freedom to forgive.

His weakened body on that curse-ridden, God-awful tree powerfully created peace. That one day in history everything changed. I’ve often wondered what amazing light show beyond light show those with spiritual eyes were able to witness on that day. It was that day our physical eyes spared us from the spiritual blaze and reality that occurred. Two men were morphed, melted, fused into one and peace resulted. Up until this point in history no one had been able to accomplish this, life waited for this moment. (Eph 2:14-17)

The result of His death ushered in peace. He had forgiven all. We continue to fight forgetting peace has been created, we worry forgetting peace is here. We refuse to forgive because we are waiting for perfect alignment of circumstantial specifics completely forgetting peace has happened. There is peace and this peace allows us the freedom to forgive.

It is no longer a pursuit of peace it is the presence of peace and the infusion of peace which allows us to actively practice the forgiveness that Christ offered through reestablishing peace.

When everything is boiled down to its essence you ask yourself what is it that makes a life, a year, a month, a week, a day, a moment a good one. It is this, freedom to love, the freedom to offer forgiveness.

The freedom to love, to offer forgiveness is truly a gift. I did not work to accomplish this feat; I have no impressive degrees to dust off to show anyone the work it took me to get to this status. I can only point you to the one who accomplished what it took for me to operate in freedom, the freedom to forgive.

He loved me, he created peace for me. When I forgive I am only doing what falls in line with the biggest event in history, I am only doing what makes the most sense as a result of His tragic, forgiveness forging death…I am loving Him by forgiving you. To God be the glory great things He has done! I am free to fly above circumstantial evidence, I can forgive you.

Relationships Reigns Over Tasks

Peeking in a farmhouse kitchen window last night and caugth a glimpse of a high level meeting. You would have seen six women hunched around a kitchen table a little after eight o'clock at night discussing important issues, Children's Sunday School. We're serious about this, it's the future leaders of the local church we're concerned about. We'll be members of their congregation someday soon and we want to have a part in that.

We're discussing a curriculum that is right up our alley. Our goal has nothing to do with entertaining but instructing. This curriculum fits the bill. Our goal is intruction in the foundational truths of Christianity we refuse to bore them, that's a sin!

I'm awed by the women, their main question is, can I tweak this curriculum, can I add to it. Many teachers just want something handed to them requiring little to no work. Not these women. I have the priviledge of rubbing shoulders with them!

We have projects to lead these children though, we have mini-lessons to include, we have the church members to introduce them to, we have missionaries that we want to interview in front of them, we have church life to explain!

This is high level conversations with consequences eternal. If more people thought like this a Sunday School teacher would the most sought out after. To have a chance to make a difference in one child's life that will make a difference in a number of lives, well, I can't imagine a better pursuit!

An Amazing Woman Named Ruthie

"Jesus wants me to talk to you."
She says staring down at me.
Ooooookay.
I might think wackpack but instead I am looking at
an adorable teenager on a bus coming home from
a Bible Quizzing event in Ohio.
She sits down and relates to me her seventeen year old
brother's tragic bike accident that has left him mentally impaired.
He was influential in her life, an amazing christian
pursuing God relentlessly, now taken out of the active game,
or so we think.

This begins the give and take relationship with Ruthie.
We meet, we connect, we say goodbye and we don't see each other
for sometimes years. A time back we met again at a Bible quizzing event
and I push myself on her, "let me come over and let's do a bible study, Ruthie?!"
God had just told her she needed spiritual parents, I fell right into that one.

This is a young woman who has lived through hard times, knows them well, has grown from them. She is priceless. We meet for a number of months and again fall out of touch while she falls into love. Last night she walks in my kitchen door with her young missionary led husband, Michael. Can we find more apt names for the two of them- Ruthie willing to go where she is led by her husband Michael who shares the same name with the archangel.This couple is a couple to know and remember.

Last night they share with a room full of teenagers, grandparents, and children their vision to the Muslim world. Their perspective revs my spirit, fills my soul, inspires my imagination. They are headed to India. This is a couple who know what life is all about. They are seeking His kingdom, pushing aside the need to eek out a happiness from the American Culture they are immersed in. These are the laborers Christ passionately seeks.

I listen to Ruthie and feel as if I can literally see her maturity etched into her forehead and around her eyes. She has been through and seen much. She talks of persecution in a way that scares me but with a profoundness that rivels the woman concerned about her next manicure. She is a saleswoman and you want to buy what she has, she will lead many into missions, the writing is on the wall.

The little girl, Leah, who shares the blood of these two remarkable people is a blessed girl. I believe we'll hear about Leah. These are people worth knowing! Let's fill our homes with these gatherings inspiring all age groups to go and make disciples.

Today is Monday

Today is Monday morning, my schedule already is askew. My mind is swirling with ideas, visions of big events. My children are yelling butting in front of the visions. The yard is desperate for attention. My garden is mocking me with weeds. There is a benefit concert in the backyard on Sunday. This event is ordering everyone to put their mind to it! Am I happy or overwhelmed?

I know this one thing; I am not experiencing what another young family is going through this week. This family waits for their dad on Friday to arrive in the Adirondacks for summer fun. He doesn't and he won’t. Instead he is found dead in his home.

They drive home never to enjoy vacation fun with their daddy again this side of heaven. The mother faces dreams without him. Life brimming, waves crashing, is now a still pond.

Am I happy or overwhelmed? I will this week do one thing, I will be content.
Swirling events indicate life. I will remember that.

Scene to Avoid

“Kathryn, give me the keys.”
“Mom, I want to drive.”
“Just give me the keys.”
I come close, I hush to her,
“I don’t want to wait outside the car door
with her yelling.”
The keys are given to me.
I go to the other side of the car where underway there is a scene. I want to avoid it. I unlock, slither in, and hope I’m unnoticed. I unlock the driver’s side.

A young mom is pleading, yelling, crying for her eight to nine year old son to get in the car. He is standing in front of a woman in a wheelchair.
The woman in a wheelchair, by now I’m gathering is the grandmother. She is trying to reason with him. He seems to be seeking moral support from her.

As I struggle with my moral dilemma, do I pray with her or pray to God, all I want is Kathyrn to head for dodge, inside I’m screaming for her to bolt. I’m looking like a ninny, a whimp. Hopefully I’m the only one who is noticing.

NOT! Kathryn, my sixteen year old, suggests I pray with this lady.

I take a deep, yoga, long held, breath. I know what my Savior calls me to do. I read about this in his Word. I talk about this to my Sunday School Children. Now a real life application confronts me and I go and treat it as if I am in a Cafeteria a la carte line. Maybe another situation will present me with an opportunity, hopefully hypothetical, but for now Kathryn really should get out of this parking lot so that she can get to work on time.

I roll down the window.
“Mam, Can I pray with you.”
She’s at my window in no time.
I put my arms around her and pray.
She is melting in my arms. Her son, the woman in a wheelchair, the other older woman sitting in the car are watching, quietly.

“Thank you so much. That is the nicest
Thing anyone has ever done for me. I am so sorry
For the scene.”

I look at her with my eyebrows apologetically raised and
Point to my sixteen year old.
“It was her idea.”

She looks beyond me and thanks Kathryn.
She tells me her name and her son’s name and we share
A few more words. She does go to church.
She is a beautiful young mom with challenges that
Today seemed overwhelming.

As we finally drive out of the parking lot
I thank Kathryn for pushing me.
I feel like a real live Anne Kiemel from the ‘70’s.

Oh, the opportunities I have missed
and Oh, today the opportunity seized
because my sixteen year old pushed me into it!

“ A little child will lead them.” Isaiah 11:6

Soundman, Ben

My son, Geoffrey, is THE gift giver, especially for his female friends. Yesterday is no exception. He arranges with his friend, Lauren, who turned fourteen last week, to pick her up. He’s taking her to see Wall-E for her 2008 birthday present. I have learned that in this arena Geoffrey, all of eleven, knows best and it behooves me to follow his lead. However, much to his dismay I invite his sister, Nicole. She and I over the past month have been discussing our need to see this flick. He will live.

We pass between the four of us popcorn and soda. After the previews we’re looking at emptiness, thank goodness for free re-fills. We sit back in our seats, ready for entertainment. This film is no exception; Pixar, again, takes us to a place where the line of reality and animation are blurring.

I come home. I have to read about the birth of this film. Relationships, love, a craving for leisure and it’s ill effects, need to care for our surroundings are obvious thoughts fueling this film. But what is in Jim Morris’ head or Andrew Stanton of “Nemo” fame? What is their message? I read a polished newsfeed and I’m distracted from my pursuit. I am rabbit trailed down another path- the creation of the sounds for the film.

Sounds fascinate me and my boys as well. My older son, Chris, marvels me with his depiction of sounds indicative of keen listening. His brothers are following suit. There’s a lot of sound in this household of eight.

Though sounds intrigue me, when I watch movies I think nothing of them. The sounds accomplish their goal in augmenting, highlighting, and supporting the message of the film. While watching a movie I could care less about their origins. Sound happens. Or so I thought.

Have you heard (pun intended) of Ben Burtt, the sound man? Of course you have not and if you have your one of those interesting people who I need to invite for dinner. Most of the “iconic noises” in Star Wars and E.T. were his creation. I read this about him and I envision him in front of a computer pushing buttons. I am a product of Suburbia. Milk comes from supermarkets, sound comes from computers. Sad state of affairs.

E.T.’s “guttural grunts," are from Ben recording his wife, suffering from a cold, sleeping! Did she know this? Fun Beans! For R2D2’s bleeps he enlists the aid of water pipes and whistles. Ben huffs and puffs into a scuba diving mask and unlike the wolf doesn’t destroy but creates Darth Vader’s heavy breathing.

This man amazes me. He has recordings from his childhood that he uses in every Sci-Fi film, recordings of his grandfather’s shortwave radio. Oh, for a world of curious children. We benefit from a little boy’s fascination and exploration of sound. Oh, for mothers who allow their children to follow their interests.

Ben Burtt, for all the bizarre, sci-fi sounds he creates would be passed by on a street. There is nothing about his persona, his look that would attract attention. Listening to a YouTube interview of sounds from StarWars made me smirk at this average guy. His speech was close to monotone. But his sounds intrigue, inspire, and I need to find out more.

Burkholder 2008 Reunion

Gas prices rising, too many people you will not connect with on the level, not enough time, this all seems to lead to one conclusion; staying home looks like the better option. Traveling out to Ohio to the Burkholder 2008 Reunion seems pointless. The words are flying out of my mouth right into the ears of my in-laws. This is traitor material, this is a killjoy daughter-in-law.

I cheerlead constantly. High road, let's travel it, grumblers all end up at the same spot and here I am heading in their direction. This is not a cheerleading moment for me now, I am the designated downer!

My mother in law sadly looks at me. She reminds me of the value of family reunions. Yeah, yeah, yeah. I grow concerned at my cynicsm, what is happening? I love meeting people, I love discovering other's lives, I know how to question, I enjoy ferreting interesting facts from people. If it weren't for those rising gas prices I would be persuading, "C'mon we'll make the trip fun, this is family..." But my faith is tested, as the gas prices rise my faith is going down. You know the song.

Then He hits me between the eyes, the clarity of vision is 20/20. He will not allow me to see from hindsight the benefit of the Burkholder 2008 Reunion of twelve siblings with their families and extended families. He wants me in the front row and He will bless our efforts to road trip in hard times.

We are the host family this year. The flow of the reunion lies in our hands. Big events are what fill me with energy, lots of energy, here is a big event of a lifetime. The reunion is small and only 160 or so are registered, small??? I begin to research the name of my eighty year old father-in-law's father, David O. Burkholder. Jackpot, he is successfully goggled.

David O. Burkholder is a man to know. I start to print from a Beachy Mennonite site about my husband's grandfather. I am ticked, why doesn't Lynn,my husband, know this stuff, our children need to know this man. I am pulled into a stream of history awed at my lack of initial insight and grateful to God for pulling me up short. (my status in life in more ways than one)

Today there is a Youth event still in existence from sixty years ago David O.Burkholder had a significant part in birthing . His name is everywhere on this site. I spot a catechism written by Peter Burkholder from a time zone that seems so far away. This too is a relative of my husband. My interest, my excitement mounts.

We travel to Ohio where we will host the Burkholder 2008 Reunion at Rosedale, a place I hear so much about. Our trip is tandem with Lynn's sister and husband. Jim, my brother-in-law winds our way to a park for a lunch break. We eat, relish in each other and talk reunion. We are traveling out a day early to be in front of the power curve, it's about time.

Rosedale is peace, a presence of God is inhaled. The flat lands are vast, endless, expansive and all I see is a picture of God's grace. Big Al who runs Rosedale with the most kicked back buisness savy I have ever seen is showing us our welcoming accomdations. This is going to be a weekend that will last beyond the earthly time restraints of forty-eight hours. We have front row seats.

We unpack, laugh, talk constantly amongst ourselves, no one feeling vanclempt.
We hop in our suburbans to seek out the best pizza place in town. To have customers, and a lot of them, hailing in near closing time has to be quintessentially bitter/sweet. They are gracious pizza makers and good at it to boot.

The next morning we set up "Headquarters." Reunions have hit the techno stage and ours is no exception. Two computers and a printer and we are ready to register. We discover we love this, is it the power of telling people where their rooms are? Is it the thrill of scheduling events for over 160 people, we are in the lead? You bet! This was too much fun for a family to have on any given weekend.

No one could ever guess my pathetic intial reunion thoughts as I learn to know my husband's amazing family. I have questions that my father-in-law and I have created enabling the children to know their grandparents. I am Master's of Ceremony for Burkholder Sibling's Reminiscing. How did I get this priviledge? I grabbed it, no hiding that.

I come away from that weekend, an entire week later I am still running on the fuel that I refueled with at the Burkholder Reunion. You want to know something crazy? This was the weekend the gas prices dropped! Again I learn that circumstances are not the directors, the Living God directs despite them!

Tradegy Strikes Again

Smoke is billowing in the valley and Lynn tells me it is Andy's produce shed. Fire engines are racing towards the smoke and I know why. I rarely know why. Fire engines howl past our home all the time leaving me curious,oh for a scanner. But I know now,not again! This family....I start to make calls.

Andy is young, in his late sixties (I'm guessing), has had some bypass surgery (don't quote me,medical stuff I always botch)and suffers with diabetes. He moves slow, he talks slow but don't let that fool you! His insides are that of an eager twenty year old ready to tackle new ideas, new means and ways! His humor is intack and he sees life through that lense. Talking with Andy is a savored pleasure, he is honest, silly, serious, and loves Jesus with deeds. There is always someone living with Andy and his wife Lucille, always.

Later in the evening, around nine, I drive up their lane to their newly built home (wonder how long it's been built). Andy with two other men are sitting at his kitchen table. He smiles, it takes him a while to direct his face to do what his insides are commanding. I ask what in the world. He answers, "God is trying to slow me down." Is that what first came to you I ask him. He shakes his head smiling, not the first but maybe the second....

Slowly this man races through a day with a todo list that would scare a vibrant young man. He comes home at nine after grading peppers. This day he was in Hershey. His wife didn't want him to go, but he did anyway. He wanted to hear about the latest pepper and cantalope varieties. This is one of the most innovative farmers in the Twin Valley region. If I were a farmer I would be asking Andy many questions grabbing any information I could.

In the morning hours delivering peppers to an auction he stops along the way and purchases flowers for his wife. His grandson, soon off on a mission trip, asks him why he does this. Andy tells him it's good to scare up flowers for your wife. Little does Andy know that these flowers would come to her at the end of a very bad day.

Lucille, his unique wife, is a chaplain at a local retirement center, a missionary's child spending more time in Africa in her formative years than America. Her day has been spent relishing in God's goodness. Acme accepts their peppers, her faith mounts. The hail the day before has blemished them slightly,they have put a lot of money in this crop, and she was nervous!She ends her day at a tent meeting,it is here word comes to her of the fire.

The kitchen table is now filling up with more people. Lucille returns home from her day with her dear intercessory friend, Becky. Glenn whose daughter has married Andy and Lucille's son sits down, the pastor leads us in prayer. Church, pure church. I am priviled to be in the midst of a couple with a community represented by hands holding one another's hands honoring God in the midst of the rubble.

This is not the first fire that this couple experiences. This is not their first tradegy. They are veterans, polished sufferers and they know what comes first. Prayer. Lucille utters her understanding that the decisions they face in the morning will be varied and difficult but she and Andy know who will guide them and first comes first, prayer.

Who are the people of substance in your life that offer hope in the midst of a fire? They don't have time to seek you out, they are busy walking the road Jesus laid out for them. Find them and with the love of Jesus they will welcome you in their life and allow you front row seats to see hope mount from tragedy.

Why the Game?

Yadayadayada, sugarysweet, sugarysweet,yuk, yuk, yuk, yuk! "Friends are like a garden, full of variety........you'd never believe what my child did, put my big shoes on and pranced around the house, my four year old decided to write with a big magic marker on our freshly painted wall, but knowing that time is fleeting I decided that this was a memory and not going to be a scar".................can I read another word without hurling? Was I ever able to read without highly criticizing? Was there a time when I could read and enjoy? Oh, please why can't I be accepting? And who made me the literary critic,the potential publisher?

I am pathetic, have always been and always will be. I don't give an inch and yet require miles. But what is actually behind my criticism is an intense need for "REALNESS." Can we all just be honest, must we play this game all the time. "Youhoo, look at me over here, let me tell you about what an awful day I had and let me tell you about all my yukky feelings throughout the day and then let me tell you about how it ended so well, you're gonna really love it, and then you're gonna suggest to your publisher friend that they publish my 'honesty.'"

We dance, we prance, we move like we're the best thing going in a humble pie frolic and all of this in front of hurting people who know far more than those of us who continue to play the game. Can we let down our guards and just admit to one another, "don't have it together, but let me tell you what I like about you!" We truly and really are not "something." In our need to draw attention we try to disguise it so that we can look modest, demure, not self-seeking and yet if the blowhorn that we are really blowing would sound, our eardrums would be history.

I am a mom. Yesterday I was on the computer and on the phone more than I was talking with my children. My twenty year old was home and I wasn't, so to speak. I rummaged through the refrigerator and fed myself. I did not make a main meal for my family, regularity is not my forte. My son calls our home a "hippie home".....ummm O.k.?! I hopped on my bike and rode to a meeting. It felt so good to be at this meeting with the children at home doing who knows what?

I went to bed not feeling as if the loose ends were moored to a sturdy dock and woke up knowing it even more. And you know the sad thing about this? You're thinking it! Maybe I'm doing exactly what I am outraged by, do you hear my blaring blowhorn?! Help me Rhonda!