Today marks almost five years since I have written in this blog...FIVE years! I have appreciated all of the comments and questions I have received via my inbox regarding the previous posts and believe me...during my illness, they were a God send! So much of a writer's life is spent in the dark, wondering if anyone actually READS what you write, and if they DO, does it make an impact of any sort, so thank you, faithful readers.
In the last five years, I have collected grandchildren (7), pictures of grandchildren (millions), blessings (far too many to count), and many stories to share. Please join me once again on my journey and we will travel together!
Showing posts with label Family Life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Family Life. Show all posts
Thursday, January 17, 2013
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
Forgiveness
My Soul Waits for the Lord
Out of the depths I cry to you, O Lord.
Lord, hear my voice! Let your ears be attentive to the voice of my supplications!
If you, O Lord, should mark iniquities, Lord, who could stand?
But there is forgiveness with you, so that you may be revered.
I wait for the Lord, my soul waits, and in his word I hope;
my soul waits for the Lord more than those who watch for the morning, more than those who watch for the morning.
O Israel, hope in the Lord! For with the Lord there is steadfast love, and with him is great power to redeem.
It is he who will redeem Israel from all its iniquities.
- Psalms 130: 1-8
I am in mourning.
The morning of the Virginia Tech murders my first instinct was to call my daughter, away at school,and make sure she was alright - a move that made her laugh as only a college student can shrug off her parents delusional worries.
Yes, I mourn for the victims in this horrific incident - but I mourn for ALL the victims.
What about "the shooter's" family?
Even though the network news has run the tinist details to the point of mental exhaustion on the subject,we still know nothing of this family. The family who had no doubt sent their beloved son to school, proud, in the relaxed sort of way you get when your children go off to school - your work almost completed in a very difficult stage of development. What of them?
These parents who woke up one morning, probably in fear, to find there was a gunman loose on the Virginia Tech Campus.Did they call their son to see if he was alright? Did they sit by the phone, paralyzed with fear because they couldn't contact him? What of these parents?
..And what of Cho Seung-Hui, "the shooter"? (How I hate that moniker, used by network news agencies to discount the worth of this life, as well.) What in his background - his homelife, his childhood would lead to this?
I will pray again today for those lost; and I will also pray for Cho - for the demons in life that drove him to this end, he who was lost BEFORE the shootings;and for his grieving parents.
Monday, February 12, 2007
A Stranger's Kindness
A stranger's kindness spans the years!
As children, we are all taught the parable of the Good Samaritin. Few of us rarely put those words of wisdom to action in our own lives. During one of my darkest days, a group of men and women showed such love and kindness, it has rippled through my life and memories for more than 25 years.
Fleeing an abusive marriage and hesitant to confide in anyone and admit that things were perhaps not perfect in my life, I ran to the only person who I felt I could turn to without recrimination: my sister.
On the way from Southern California to South Carolina, by bus with an 8-month-old child in tow, I became seriously ill. I couldn't breath. I was nauseous and I was hungry. For the bus trip, (I believe it to be about 4-5 days), I had brought plenty of food, diapers, and formula for my daughter, but had only a few snack items for myself - and no money. I just had to get away!
By the time we reached Birmingham, Alabama for an extended layover, I got off the bus, hoping to get a drink of water and regain my equilibrium. Instead, station authorities became concerned and called 911.
Paramedics and firemen swarmed the bus station and I was the object of much unwanted attention as they administered oxygen and pleaded with me to go with them to the hospital. My breathing and vital signs were not stable. (Later, it would turn out I had pneumonia and would be hospitalized for more than one week to recover.)
I told them I would only go - if they could guarantee I could keep my child with me - she was young, the light of my life and we were in a strange city, surrounded by strangers and I was very afraid...I had taken a Marine's daughter across state lines and was sure he would follow.
Sadly, they told me the baby would have to go to foster care - and I would have to go to court to get her back when released! NO! I couldn't leave her - and I refused any additional help.
The bus was boarding and one of the EMT's asked me if I would like him to get me something to eat quickly to take back to the bus. No, I answered, I had no money, but thank you. Emt's carried the baby to the bus and helped me reboard with a few whispered comments to the bus driver before leaving. I remember feeling completely adrift and beaten down. Depressed, hungry and sick with another 2-days on the bus.
Minutes later, the EMT reappeared, food in hand.
I was over come with emotion - someone cared! As I began to cry, with his other hand, he withdrew money from his pocket and pressed it into my hand. The money - what seemed a fortune to me at the time - about $60 - was collected from the EMT's and Firemen who came to assist me in the first place!
Tears blur what I remember of this man’s face. What I do remember clearly, is the kindness and love of the civil servants from Birmingham; this is what remains after all these years.
What a beautiful testimony and gift was given to me that day!
I can't help but think this has a deeper life lesson for us all: When we assist others selflessly, in the course of a normal day, what lives on is not the clothes we wear, the car we drive or the amount of money we accumulate. What lives on - and is truly the essence of our faith - is the love we have shared.
In my walk, I strive to pass on the love shared to me; in the hopes it will ripple through someone's memory over time and create yet more ripples of love for someone else.
As children, we are all taught the parable of the Good Samaritin. Few of us rarely put those words of wisdom to action in our own lives. During one of my darkest days, a group of men and women showed such love and kindness, it has rippled through my life and memories for more than 25 years.
Fleeing an abusive marriage and hesitant to confide in anyone and admit that things were perhaps not perfect in my life, I ran to the only person who I felt I could turn to without recrimination: my sister.
On the way from Southern California to South Carolina, by bus with an 8-month-old child in tow, I became seriously ill. I couldn't breath. I was nauseous and I was hungry. For the bus trip, (I believe it to be about 4-5 days), I had brought plenty of food, diapers, and formula for my daughter, but had only a few snack items for myself - and no money. I just had to get away!
By the time we reached Birmingham, Alabama for an extended layover, I got off the bus, hoping to get a drink of water and regain my equilibrium. Instead, station authorities became concerned and called 911.
Paramedics and firemen swarmed the bus station and I was the object of much unwanted attention as they administered oxygen and pleaded with me to go with them to the hospital. My breathing and vital signs were not stable. (Later, it would turn out I had pneumonia and would be hospitalized for more than one week to recover.)
I told them I would only go - if they could guarantee I could keep my child with me - she was young, the light of my life and we were in a strange city, surrounded by strangers and I was very afraid...I had taken a Marine's daughter across state lines and was sure he would follow.
Sadly, they told me the baby would have to go to foster care - and I would have to go to court to get her back when released! NO! I couldn't leave her - and I refused any additional help.
The bus was boarding and one of the EMT's asked me if I would like him to get me something to eat quickly to take back to the bus. No, I answered, I had no money, but thank you. Emt's carried the baby to the bus and helped me reboard with a few whispered comments to the bus driver before leaving. I remember feeling completely adrift and beaten down. Depressed, hungry and sick with another 2-days on the bus.
Minutes later, the EMT reappeared, food in hand.
I was over come with emotion - someone cared! As I began to cry, with his other hand, he withdrew money from his pocket and pressed it into my hand. The money - what seemed a fortune to me at the time - about $60 - was collected from the EMT's and Firemen who came to assist me in the first place!
Tears blur what I remember of this man’s face. What I do remember clearly, is the kindness and love of the civil servants from Birmingham; this is what remains after all these years.
What a beautiful testimony and gift was given to me that day!
I can't help but think this has a deeper life lesson for us all: When we assist others selflessly, in the course of a normal day, what lives on is not the clothes we wear, the car we drive or the amount of money we accumulate. What lives on - and is truly the essence of our faith - is the love we have shared.
In my walk, I strive to pass on the love shared to me; in the hopes it will ripple through someone's memory over time and create yet more ripples of love for someone else.
Friday, January 12, 2007
Middle Age
"One of the hardest decisions to make is when to start middle age."
I guess age is all a matter of perception. Our 17-year-old son came home the other night to tell us at dinner about the coolest teacher at school. It turns out the cool teacher was a 20-something art teacher - of course. Later in the meal, he spoke about an old boring guy who teaches - what else? History. When we asked how old he thought the "old guy" was, he replied,"40 or 45."
My husband and I glanced at each other across the the table, mouths, I'm sure, attractivly ajar.
"What?" We stumbled out...He just went on with his story, too engrossed in self to see his father and I whithering from old age - right before his eyes - at the dinner table.
At the age of 17, the late 40's are ancient. Jacob is sure his history teacher lived through much of it....hmmmm.
Thirty was okay for me, but 31 made me start thinking about getting older. After all, this is the age your OB reminds you that your eggs have now shifted into old age and pregnancy can be chancier.
By 40, I was beginning to staart to enjoy the respect given to a maturing woman and starting to feel more like "myself."
50 is around the corner and I've found the me I had looked for so intently in the 60's. Why didn't anyone tell my generation that you found yourself in your 50's?
Life is fabulous for me right now - I have done as good of job as I can at my marriage, raising my children and being a good person. I can definitely tell you what I like and don't like, what my political views are and how to bake a kickn' turkey for the holidays. What I can't tell you is where I last put my car keys.
It doesn't matter though. My husband and I are starting to travel, have grandchildren and enjoy getting to know each other "post children." It is like dating again!
I can't tell you where middle age is - but I can tell you I haven't reached that point yet!
I guess age is all a matter of perception. Our 17-year-old son came home the other night to tell us at dinner about the coolest teacher at school. It turns out the cool teacher was a 20-something art teacher - of course. Later in the meal, he spoke about an old boring guy who teaches - what else? History. When we asked how old he thought the "old guy" was, he replied,"40 or 45."
My husband and I glanced at each other across the the table, mouths, I'm sure, attractivly ajar.
"What?" We stumbled out...He just went on with his story, too engrossed in self to see his father and I whithering from old age - right before his eyes - at the dinner table.
At the age of 17, the late 40's are ancient. Jacob is sure his history teacher lived through much of it....hmmmm.
Thirty was okay for me, but 31 made me start thinking about getting older. After all, this is the age your OB reminds you that your eggs have now shifted into old age and pregnancy can be chancier.
By 40, I was beginning to staart to enjoy the respect given to a maturing woman and starting to feel more like "myself."
50 is around the corner and I've found the me I had looked for so intently in the 60's. Why didn't anyone tell my generation that you found yourself in your 50's?
Life is fabulous for me right now - I have done as good of job as I can at my marriage, raising my children and being a good person. I can definitely tell you what I like and don't like, what my political views are and how to bake a kickn' turkey for the holidays. What I can't tell you is where I last put my car keys.
It doesn't matter though. My husband and I are starting to travel, have grandchildren and enjoy getting to know each other "post children." It is like dating again!
I can't tell you where middle age is - but I can tell you I haven't reached that point yet!
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