Rejoicing in Hope

I will be co-hosting a baby shower today for a wonderful woman who chose life a few months ago. Our Cities4Life team intervened when P showed up to abort her child. She was moved by the words of hope and help, came on our Monroe HELP  Mobile Ultrasound RV parked on the curb of the abortion center, and when she saw her baby, knew she could not take his life. Like nearly every mother who stops and talks with us before aborting, she told us she felt she had no other choice but abortion. She had no hope of the life she had planned for herself unless she aborted. But God is a God of Hope, and His plans are always best. In the end, P agreed. This baby shower today is a celebration of Hope.

Switching gears to another hope, I had hoped to kayak this weekend, but my one free day in the next two weeks was yesterday. The rain started early and went on all day. So instead of kayaking, I decided to play with a new art program that was on my iPad. When I started drawing with it, my lines were wavy and I could not make them straight. I was distraught since NONE of my art programs are working well on my iPad and half the reason I got the iPad Mini is so I could draw, especially when traveling. The iPad Mini is as small as a sketchbook and light. But if I can’t draw a straight line....

I googled ‘iPad Mini and wavy lines’. It turns out, I am not the only one with this issue. The tutorial I read gave the technical details why the processor and size of the iPad Mini makes drawing straight lines slowly difficult. The trick is quick, confident strokes. PRACTICE the tutor advised. It can be done, but it takes practice.

Sigh.

However, and this is KEY, the tutor gave me HOPE. My Bible study this morning on that very topic pointed out that we do not hope for things we cannot even conceive of. We hope for things that are real, tangible, that could conceivably be satisfied. We may not yet see them, but we can conceive of their possibility, however remote. 

Hebrews 6:17-19 says:

Because God wanted to make the unchanging nature of his purpose very clear to the heirs of what was promised, he confirmed it with an oath.

‭God did this so that, by two unchangeable things in which it is impossible for God to lie, we who have fled to take hold of the hope set before us may be greatly encouraged. We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure. It enters the inner sanctuary behind the curtain,

In the context of those verses, God had made promises with an express purpose: to give us hope as an anchor for our soul. When the tumultuous waves of adversity slam against our weary hulls, God has assured us so that we will NOT be washed away. He anchors us in His promise of an eternity where all things will be made new, what we have lost will be restored, and redemption will trample destruction.

This is perhaps what happened in the heart of the woman upon whom we will be lavishing two years of all her baby’s needs in the baby shower today. There is a hope that is greater than all her plans. God will bless this choice to follow Him in this very critical decision for her child. He has promised to all who follow Him a future and a hope, plans to prosper and not to harm. My prayer is that P will grab a hold of this promise, and choose to place her faith and her life once and for all in Christ, the author of all Hope.

Meanwhile, I too was seized with hope. I CAN draw a straight line. I WILL persevere and overcome the limitations of this iPad Mini. I lost all track of time and spent three hours on the simple drawing above. In the end, not only could I draw a straight line, but I created a little piece of art that I was happy with. I added a verse using that same wonderful art program, and felt I understood the essence of hope a little better.

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Romans 12:12 

Rejoice in hope, be patient in tribulation, be constant in prayer.

Romans 15:13   

May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that by the power of the Holy Spirit you may abound in hope.

Jeremiah 29:11 

For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope.

When He Comes, He's Right on Time

                                  

Five women chose life over abortion yesterday while we were ministering on the sidewalks of the busy Charlotte abortion center. I was really excited to be wearing our new pink Cities4Life shirt. Sometimes it's the little things in life that pick you up. I had not been feeling well. Three days of headaches and vague ickiness were taking a toll. But as soon as I showed up on the sidewalk, Patrick our RV driver, prayed for me and told the headache to go away. Then Daniel, our director, showed up and asked me if I wanted a new pink Cities4Life shirt. Already, the morning was brighter.

                                     

One of the women who chose life pulled out of the abortion center in her car, and parked alongside the curb so we could give her a gift bag and offer our resources. Tears streamed down her face.

"This was an emotional decision for you, wasn't it?" I said.

She nodded, not quite able to speak.

"Do you want to see your baby on the ultrasound?"

She nodded again.

She shared later that she knew God, but was so overwhelmed by her circumstances that she ignored what she knew in her heart to be right and true. When she heard us on the microphone and calling out to the women, she felt God was sending her a clear message. Don't do this. She said He had been sending signs for days, and she had not listened. She was listening now. Her phone rang. While on the RV after choosing life, she received a job offer for a job she had very much wanted.

When I told her about all the resources we had that could help her, the tears flowed anew. All this poor woman needed to make a choice for life was the nudge of the truth she already knew in her soul and the offer of support and resources. As it turned out, she didn't even really need the resources. She just needed someone to say, "What would God have you do?"

The friend who had accompanied this young woman said she'd been praying the whole time her friend would turn from abortion. She gave me a high five and said, "When He comes, He's right on time."

Amen to that! I realized as I drove home, glancing happily in the mirror at my new pink Cities4Life shirt, that my headache was gone.

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Habakkuk 2:3 

For still the vision awaits its appointed time; it hastens to the end—it will not lie. If it seems slow, wait for it; it will surely come; it will not delay.

Psalm 27:14 

Wait for the Lord; be strong, and let your heart take courage; wait for the Lord!

Isaiah 40:31 

But they who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles; they shall run and not be weary; they shall walk and not faint.

Ecclesiastes 3:1 

For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven:

Coping with Reality

I asked my art class what they wanted to draw next.
"A cabin!" one shouted.
"With mountains!" another said.
"And a dog!" a third one cried out.
"With a dragon!" a fourth suggested.
"How about if we leave the dragon for the next picture?" I said. Fortunately, the dragon lover agreed.

Since I would not have much time to prepare after returning from my daughter's out of state wedding, I knew I had to do a practice pastel drawing this week. So yesterday, while praying to God about some of the disturbing trends in our society, I drew the picture above. It was very calming. I thought again how blessed I am to be able to draw. How do people who can't recreate a world the way they wish it was cope with reality?

For example, I got two texts last night from two different mamas we work with who chose life at the abortion mill. Both had been doing really well. Both had hit major bumps in the road. Neither is an artist. What do they do to soldier on?

Psalm 46:1-11 gives us a good idea of the best way to cope when reality disappoints:

God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear though the earth gives way, though the mountains be moved into the heart of the sea, though its waters roar and foam, though the mountains tremble at its swelling. There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God, the holy habitation of the Most High. God is in the midst of her; she shall not be moved; God will help her when morning dawns. ...

In the midst of earthquakes, mountains collapsing into the sea, tsunamis and floods...God is immovable. His holy habitation awaits us, and is secure from all the ravages of the world where we reside. God Himself is the unshakable refuge in the cataclysmic shifts of earthly life.

There is a passage in the beautiful Psalm 23 that I never thought much about till recently, but it relates perfectly here.
Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of my enemies.
You anoint my head with oil; my cup overfloweth...

This is a remarkable image. How many of us are surrounded by enemies, in mortal battle, and sit down to a quiet and sumptuous feast, relaxing as our head is anointed with oil and our cup is filled to the brim?

Answer: None! We are shooting, hiding, running, freaking out!

Yet look at the image God sends us of how He leads us in this frightening, conflict-ridden, and fallen world. We are seated at a banquet though our enemies are all around us. We eat and drink in peace while God Himself keeps the enemy at bay.

Ultimately, He is the only reality that matters. The earth and its pleasures will pass away, but God remains forever. He and I, He and you, are seated together, safely enjoying the bounty of His eternal goodness. The enemies may surround us, but they cannot harm us. Not eternally.

That is even more comforting than drawing my pretty picture! Meanwhile, I have a whole host of supporters of Cities4Life I hope to galvanize to help the mamas. God is sufficient, but we cannot sit idly by while His people suffer when we have the means to help.

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1 John 5:13-14

I write these things to you who believe in the name of the Son of God that you may know that you have eternal life. And this is the confidence that we have toward him, that if we ask anything according to his will he hears us.

John 10:10 

The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have life and have it abundantly.

Matthew 10:29-31 

Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? And not one of them will fall to the ground apart from your Father. But even the hairs of your head are all numbered. Fear not, therefore; you are of more value than many sparrows.

Perfect Peace

I have a wonderful  Facebook friend who posts Bible verses each day with beautiful photos from her stunning farm in Virginia. It always lifts my spirit. There is so much sadness, fear, evil, confrontation, despair, and hopelessness in the world. It is heartening to see that spash of optimism each day with the reminder that God made a beautiful world.

Today, I really needed that. Honestly, every day I need that. God is in control. God loves you and He loves me. He longs for us to enter His Kingdom and share the bounty of eternity in Heaven. That is awesome. It is important to remember that.

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Philippians 4:6 

Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God.

John 16:33 

I have said these things to you, that in me you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world.”

Isaiah 26:3 

You keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on you, because he trusts in you.

1 Peter 5:7

Casting all your anxieties on him, because he cares for you.

Heaven's Declaration

I have a friend who takes pictures of the sunrise almost every morning and posts them on facebook. It never ceases to cheer me, particularly since he is someone who endured great loss and the picture of hope moves me. I am often up before the sun, but I usually am already busy at work, and don't see the sunrise. Besides, our street is filled with tall trees and the horizon is mostly blocked from view. But this morning when I glanced out the window as I got up, I saw a pretty sunrise with all those beautiful colors that remind me God paints a new picture every morning.

It is not an easy life. There are so many struggles, hurts, misunderstandings that make our view drab and cheerless at times. But it is hard not to see God's message of renewal every morning, when the entire sky is declaring it.

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The heavens declare the glory of God; and the firmament sheweth his handywork. -Psalms 19:1

Hope and Gratitude

It will be a small celebration for us at Thanksgiving. The boys won't be home so it will be just Asherel and her stodgy old folks. Sorry Asherel! But Friday, we plan to go skiing. I am watching the weather and the snow in the mountains. If all goes well, we will have clear roads and snowy mountains. Still, I was feeling a little down that as our children grow up and out, our home gets emptier.

ON the plus side, since there will be no big family gathering or guests coming, I won't have to knock myself out cleaning the house. It will give me time to work on my next article. Yesterday, I interviewed an SC candidate for the Senate who hopes to unseat Lindsey Graham. I do not consider myself well versed in politics at all, but I do care deeply about my nation and have grave concerns about the plunge into moral , social, fiscal, and spiritual decay. (Other than that, I feel hopeful.) Anyway, I was told this candidate was different...might really have a vision that could turn things around. He has been very busy since declaring his candidacy so I didn't know if he would ever have time to sit down and chat with me.

Then yesterday, Bill Connor called and for 90 minutes we discussed everything from his philosophy of government, to his heroes, his vision for the country, his concerns and solutions, his diagnosis of the problems and his cures. I finished the interview thinking maybe there really is hope for America. Maybe all the good, brave, intelligent, articulate, Godly, and righteous people have not given up. 

I loved how he prefaced his desire to serve politically with the Biblical mandate for government. He quoted 1 Peter 2, how we are to be subject to the human institution of government, whose role is to punish evil and praise good. How refreshing it was to hear someone unabashedly see God's hand in the affairs of men and to have a world view fashioned after Biblical principles. He was quick to point out that he did not wish to form a theocracy -- he knew America was a Constitutional Republic. But the lens through which he viewed the world and his role in it was based on his relationship with and understanding of God.

I have a lot to be thankful for this Thanksgiving. I am grateful that while my children are not all here this week, they are happy and thriving. I am grateful that for a little while my beloved daughter is still home with us and we get to ski together, something she and I truly love. And now I have a new item to add to my list of Thanksgiving blessings -- God has raised up a fresh, eager warrior in the battle for our nation's soul. It blesses all of us when Godly people listen to their calling in the service of others.  Maybe there is hope.

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Be subject for the Lord’s sake to every human institution, whether it be to the emperor as supreme, or to governors as sent by him to punish those who do evil and to praise those who do good. For this is the will of God, that by doing good you should put to silence the ignorance of foolish people. (1 Peter 2:13-15 ESV)

Christmas Coming Earlier Each Year

I had to do some errands at the mall, and was flabbergasted to hear Christmas music. Christmas music on Nov. 4! How could this be?? I walked in one store and the saleswoman was blasting a radio and it was not playing Christmas songs.

"I love Christmas music," she said, "But I am trying to drown it out. They are starting way too early. When you are in retail and have to listen to Christmas music for two full months, you get a little sick of it."

I love Christmas music too. Unlike the saleswoman, it is not the music that makes me sick; it is the manipulation. The attempt to force us into the Christmas spirit...the buying spirit...the going broke commercializing the birth of God spirit. Starbucks already has Christmas themed cups for their overpriced drinks (which are delicious, and yes, I know this because I bought one of their overpriced drinks...). Christmas trees are already being erected in the center court. Christmas decorations are already blinking in store fronts. But I was lulled by the Christmas music. The crowds have not yet descended and so the mall was quiet. I sat sipping my overpriced Starbucks drink listening to the Christmas music and felt...well, I hate to admit it, but tranquil.

Later in the afternoon, Asherel and I had our monthly volunteer work teaching art at the Nursing Home. This month  the residents had requested we teach them to draw a pig. Our regular gang of about ten residents were gathered. This time not a single one said they could not draw the pig, and in fact, most of them just got right to it. They didn't even wait for instruction -- the step by step guidance Asherel provides. They began drawing as if they knew what to do and were developing confidence that they could do it.They told me many stories about pigs from their past as they drew. 

One lady who is very careful with her drawings each class told me that her three grandchildren were visiting this week. She had 3 drawings now from the past 3 months of class, and is going to give one to each of the grandchildren. They never knew their Grandmom could draw. I can tell she is very proud of her newfound skill, and tickled that she can give each child a gift she made herself. 

Another lady called me over and whispered, "How much do I owe you for the lesson?"

"Not a thing!" I exclaimed, "It is a joy to teach you!"

"Well then sign me up for the next one!"

The next class will be in December and so we will do a Christmas drawing. It has to be simple, but I want to make it meaningful. Something that will impart the true meaning of Christmas. Fortunately, I have a headstart thinking about Christmas after the Mall trip that morning and the too early Christmas music.

"How about a manger, and baby Jesus?" I asked.

"Yes," they said, "That would be nice."

"Just keep it simple," said another.

I smiled. Yes, it is simple. No reindeer, no Christmas trees, no fancy decorations, and God forbid, no Santa. Just a baby in a manger, profoundly simple in the message of hope.

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The Lord preserves the simple; when I was brought low, he saved me. For you have delivered my soul from death, my eyes from tears, my feet from stumbling; (Psalm 116:6, 8 ESV)

My Remarkable Team

I have managed Destination Imagination teams for 4 years. Last night, the team I have worked with for the past two years met for their regular time together. I set up an "instant challenge" for them to solve. This is a difficult problem which they must solve with very limited materials and in a very short time frame. I wish I had videotaped it. Just imagine that they managed to devise a catapult in 7 minutes made of a spoon, spool, rubberband, and toothpick that shot a golf ball onto a papertowel roll ramp supported with 2 straws into a target 6 inches away. It was nothing short of brilliant.

Then they spent the next 45 minutes without any supervision finishing off a ten item check list of the things they wanted to accomplish in their meeting time towards their year-long project. I wanted to cry with the sheer joy of their maturity, accomplishment, and through it all, sense of fun and delight.

I have been very discouraged of late. The direction of our country makes me want to vomit. Personal struggles seem to be at an all time high. And on top of that, a spiritual battle rages in one of the darkest days of the year, and I feel like most of us are blind to it. But in the midst of all that angst, steps my Destination Imagination team. Young, bright, motivated, delightful, polite, respectful, and hard working. There is hope for tomorrow. Sometimes God brings fresh air into a room that has been long devoid of oxygen, and with a gasp, we realize we may survive!

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Thank God ! Call out his Name! Tell the whole world who he is and what he’s done! Sing to him! Play songs for him! Broadcast all his wonders! Revel in his holy Name, God -seekers, be jubilant! Study God and his strength, seek his presence day and night; Remember all the wonders he performed, the miracles and judgments that came out of his mouth. Seed of Israel his servant! Children of Jacob, his first choice! He is God, our God; wherever you go you come on his judgments and decisions. He keeps his commitments across thousands of generations, the covenant he commanded, The same one he made with Abraham, the very one he swore to Isaac; He posted it in big block letters to Jacob, this eternal covenant with Israel: “I give you the land of Canaan, this is your inheritance; Even though you’re not much to look at, a few straggling strangers.” (1 Chronicles 16:8-19 MSG)

Start Rebuilding

I am waiting for my wrists to heal. I can't work too long on the computer because it makes them hurt. Waiting to heal from any infirmity is not easy. Life goes on hold. What used to  be simple tasks, like unloading the dishwasher become unscalable walls. So I wear my double wrist braces and sometimes just sit, gazing into space. Most of what I do requires wrist movement, I have discovered.

I have a friend who is battling cancer. It has been a long process, and things are looking good right now, but it has not been easy. Today I noticed in her update about her radiation treatments, she closed asking if we would all pray for a friend of hers who has just been diagnosed with cancer. Here she is battling a horrific enemy, and she has the compassion and empathy to divert focus from herself to others who need help. That is a woman of God.

I am reading the book of Nehemiah right now. I love Nehemiah. He is someone who just ignores the enemy, keeps his focus on God, and keeps struggling through impossible odds. Nehemiah is not one of the well known heroes of the Bible, but he is one of my favorites. He was cupbearer to the King of Persia, during the exile of the Jews to Babylonia in the 5th century BC. He was in a position of influence and favoritism. But he was a Jew, and when he learned of the condition of his historic homeland, he asked the King's permission to return to Jerusalem, and rebuild the city and the crumbling walls surrounding it. The King grants permission. Nehemiah could have taxed the people to help with the repairs, or had special food and comfort for himself as an emissary of the King, but instead, he throws his lot in with his people and has no special favors for himself. He looks around at a ruined city, a devastated, ransacked, crumbling city and says, "Let us start building."

And then, the enemy comes while Nehemiah and his small ragtag remnant of Jews are rebuilding the walls. The enemy taunts them from just outside the wall; tries to undermine the people's faith in Nehemiah and his God. The enemy includes the armies of Samaria, and they threaten attack, urging the Jews to stop rebuilding, join the enemy, and leave this crazy leader asking help from a deity everyone knows will never rise out of their imagination to be of any true service. The people are weary, and poor, and the work seems impossible from the get go. The enemy is wearing them down. But Nehemiah then utters the rallying cry that I find myself calling out in my soul over and over when life bears down a little too violently:
The God of heaven will give us success.


The people rally, the wall is rebuilt, in an impossible 52 days. The Jews begin to trickle back to Jerusalem. The lagging faith of a beleaguered people is fanned into flame, and hope begins to rekindle in the hearts of the exiled Jews when they learn Jerusalem is rebuilt!

Meanwhile, I look at my braced wrists, and realize one thing I can do without my wrists. I can pray.

Nehemiah 2:20
I answered them by saying, "The God of heaven will give us success. We his servants will start rebuilding,

Out of the Well

I love sitting and watching the Dog Agility trials- there are always surprises, inspirations, heart breaks, startling achievement, bitter failure, joy, despair. Nearly every aspect of the human condition can be symbolically expressed in less than one minute runs. But my favorite ones to watch are the surprises- the dogs that have struggled to stay focused, the owners that have wearied of ever 'getting it', the sudden inexplicable gathering all one's wits and training together to coalesce in victory. Those are the runs that make me remember this is a world of hope.

So my picture today on this post is not too great. I was distracted by the dogs, but also trying to draw in blinding sunlight. I was having trouble seeing the iPod screen.

One of my favorite dogs is a big standard poodle- Drew. We met Drew years ago when we started with our club. Drew has boundless energy and loves everyone. He is forever racing wildly around the field, and distracted by the desire to visit and lick the ring crew. I remember his owner, Carol, once telling me after another wild run at a trial that she felt like throwing in the towel. He just wasn't getting it.  Carol is a saint- a tireless worker at our club, and a caregiver for her aged, failing mom, while holding a full time job as well. She never complains, and is always smiling, at least when I see her. So I always try to watch Drew when they are at a trial we are attending. I always pray they will overcome their struggles.

It was time for Drew's Open Jumper's Run. I stopped at the sideline, as I was passing by, glad that I hadn't left and missed him. It started well, and then on the third jump, Drew veered and began his typical exuberant, happy to be alive sprint around the jump. Carol stayed calm, and kept calling him back. I think he circled the area three times, then noticed Carol, and cleared the jump he had initially refused. In Open level, the dog is allowed 2 mistakes. Despite the large time expenditure Drew's romp devoured, it only counted as one mistake. I could see that Drew could have broken off on another wild romp at any moment; he had that joyful edgy look in his bounding run. But Carol stayed confident and controlled, and kept signalling him to the next jump, then the next, and then finally the last. The rest of the run, which had started so likely to end in failure, had been clean, and masterfully run.  So many handlers would have panicked and given up after that out of control race around the field, thinking it was no use, they would never do well now, and the dog was obviously not focused on the handler anyway. The run would have gone from bad to awful. Instead, Carol ran the rest of the race as if the first bobble had never happened. She ran as though she knew she could succeed. And the wonderful surprise was not only did Drew Qualify in that run, he placed first, finished his Open Level title, and moved up to the Excellent level.

We have all been like Joseph of the Bible, languishing in the bottom of a well, thinking our world couldn't get any darker or more hopeless. And then when we are pulled out of the well, we become slaves. And then we are unjustly accused and thrown in prison. And sometimes, we think that means it is all over. There is no reason to try any more, there is no hope, and the unfairness of life has finally battered us to the point where we decide to give up. However, in the end, Joseph ended up the right hand man of the King, and singlehandedly saved his people from starvation. And Carol and Drew won first place, believing that when you don't give up, wonderful blessings ensue.

Genesis 24: 56
⁵⁶ But he said to them, “Do not detain me, now that the LORD has granted success to my journey. Send me on my way so I may go to my master.”

Rebuilding

"Drat, Mabelmanylegs, those yahoos have knocked the web down again. They seem to think that those window screens with all those nice tasty bugs trapped there belong to them!"
"Oh my dear Octoped, can we afford to rebuild? I don't think we can afford Human Broom Insurance- not with a deductible we can manage...." She began to sob, great Black Widow tears.
"We must rebuild, Mabelmanylegs. What choice do we have? It's not like we are going to catch flies with our charm and good looks. Remember dear," Octoped said, stretching his arms across her shoulders, "Adversity is oftentimes the spark to great achievement."
"Tell that to Mrs. O'Leary's cow," said Mabelmanylegs.
"As a matter of fact, on this very day, in 1871 that cow started the great Chicago fire."
"I know that," snapped Mabelmanylegs, "I'm webless, not stupid."
"Well then you should also know that in the end, Chicago exonerated the cow. Of course not til the cow was long dead, but even Chicago recognized that the cow may have been the biggest blessing Chicago ever had."
"I don't follow," said the Black Widow, dabbing at her eyes, which took quite a while given she had eight of them.
"Well, it is true that the fire started by that careless cow did kill around 250 people, destroyed 17,450 buildings, and left 100,000 homeless, causing an estimated $200 million (in 1871 dollars; $3 billion in 2007 dollars) in damages. But as a result, it spurred tremendous economic activity as Chicago rebuilt, bigger and better than ever. It can be argued that the fire caused by Mrs. O'Leary's cow was responsible for Chicago becoming a world class city."
Mabelmanylegs glanced inside the house to which her ruined web was attached. She saw the writer sitting at the computer, typing her daily blog.
"I don't get it," she said to Octoped, "I thought this daily blog that human writes is supposed to be about messages from God.Why is she writing about spider webs, and the Great Chicago Fire?"
"You try writing every single day for two years... let's see if you can come up with fresh and interesting themes day after day. But besides that, don't you get it?"
"No."
"She is reminding us, just like Jesus warned, that in this world we will have troubles. But we are not supposed to despair, because in the end, God wins. Jesus has overcome the world. Like Mrs. O'Leary's cow, we will be exonerated. And disaster can be turned into crowning achievement."
"Do we have to wait til we are dead too?"
"Well maybe. But the blessing of His comfort is here now, today, and we can grab hold of it the moment we trust Him and believe that He is who He claims to be."
"Will He rebuild our web?"
"Mabelmanylegs, He doesn't have to. We can do that. He can rebuild your broken heart, though, and He can give you hope and purpose even beyond spinning beautiful webs."
Mabelmanylegs peered in again as the keyboard of the writer clacked away.
"I still think she is stretching here."
"Well," said Octoped, "I think her heart was too full of gratitude to just say outright her husband got a job offer yesterday."
"Well, bully for him," sighed Mabelmanylegs, "Come on, lazylegs, get spinning if you want breakfast."

Jeremiah 29:11

¹¹ For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future

Dispelling the Darkness

When I walked in the Assisted Living Home, Comer and Evelyn were sitting side by side under the entry way chandelier. They were holding hands, looking straight ahead, dressed in Sunday clothes. Evelyn wore a beautiful necklace, and pink leather shoes. Comer wore a sports coat, and pinstriped shirt.Their expressions and posture were poised in expectant waiting.And I was 5 minutes early. I wondered how long they had been sitting there, leaning forward in their seats, dressed in all their finery, waiting.

I smiled when I caught sight of them, so eager for their outing, and waved. Comer, the 93 year old new author of a book of poetry, stood to greet me with a bag in his hand. Evelyn's face broke into a beaming smile of recognition, always surprising me in her struggles with Alzheimers, and threw her arms around me.
"Ready for lunch?" I said. She hugged me tightly.
Comer handed me the bag, "Six of my books, one for each neighbor."
"Oh, they will be thrilled! Did you sign them?"
"I did."
"Well then let's celebrate. How about Kentucky Fried Chicken?"
"Yes," smiled Evelyn.
"Extra crispy," said Comer.
"You got it!"

Our outing was our typical peaceful drive, while balancing fast food on our laps, and meandering through rich people's neighborhoods. Asherel was in charge of the music, and switched CDs from Engelbert Humperdinck to Romantic Melodies from the 50's. Even Comer sang along on a few of them today.

"I got a short story I want you to read," he said.
"Oh I would love to! Are we printing a book of short stories next?"
"Oh no, I don't have but three of them. But this one is particularly poignant. I wrote it years ago."
"What's it about?"
"I'm not going to tell you. You will have to read it."
"Haha! Well ok. Bring it next week."
"I sure will. It is about a Canada Goose."
"Oh, I love Canada Geese!" I said, "You know they mate for life."
"I know," he said, "That's in the story."
"I thought so," I said, glancing in the rear view mirror. He sat next to Evelyn, clutching her hand.
"Did you know Evelyn when you wrote it?"
"Oh yes," he said.
"I thought so."

I remembered my walks to the swan pond this week. I have been going twice a day, hoping against hope that I am not seeing what I am seeing. All week there has only been one swan. One lone swan, where for a year there have been two. I keep hoping I will see the second, hidden behind the brush. The lone swan has not moved from a little feeder island in the middle of the pond. A huge flock of Canada Geese float on the other end of the pond. The swan is all alone. His mate appears to be gone. My heart breaks every time I see him. Swans mate for life too, and his mate is gone.

"I've been editing my second book," I told Comer.
"What's it about?"
"Angels."
"Oh dear, I'm afraid I just spilled my entire drink on your floor. I am making a real mess."
"Don't worry, it needs cleaning anyway. Hey, have you been working on your new poems?"
"I have written 2 or 3."
"Well soon we will be publishing book #2 for you too!"
"Oh no, I'll die before then."
"You just never know what God might be preserving you for," I said.

Sometimes things seem so unbearably sad- old people with terrible afflictions, swans just reaching the age of producing cygnets, and the mate dies...full drinks spilling before we have a chance to sip them. But it is life. It is all part of life. Like Asherel's writing prompt yesterday said, do we truly value what we have not had to struggle to obtain?

Brother John texted me from his flood zone house last night. He'd been looting again, when the sun set.
"Scored a stakmore table!"
"Good for you! This flood is really turning out to be worth it after all!"
"I think tomorrow I'll just go to the Stakmore factory and ask them politely for the things they don't want."
"Haha, with your shotgun in hand?"
"Of course not. Way too noisy. I'll bring the Derringer."
"Got power yet?"
"No, but we ditched the generator and hooked into the neighbor's deck."
"The neighbor's have power?"
"Yep."
Oh good. Then John is not all alone in the flood. The neighbors are there, and they have power and warm showers, and light to cast away the darkness.

2 Samuel 22:29
²⁹ You, LORD, are my lamp;
   the LORD turns my darkness into light.

A Patch of Dry Ground

My brother spent the night in his flooded town in his flooded home with a shotgun, watching for looters that dared enter his home. There is no water, electricity, food service, or any service of any kind open in the devastated Owego/Binghamton NY flood zone. Into this vacuum, the looters came. The National Guard increased its patrol, but my brother must not have felt it was sufficient. He couldn't stop the flood, but he is determined to stop the looters.

I can't imagine what his night must have been like, but I am waiting anxiously to hear from him today. It distresses me greatly that anyone would take advantage of others' troubles as to loot the remnants of horrendous loss. Ninety percent of the Owego businesses were flooded extensively. I can't imagine how this town is going to rebuild.

My brother sent a newspaper photograph of an aerial view of flooded Owego. No streets are visible. It looks like Holland with canals of water crisscrossing the town, with trees growing out of the water. There is one patch, one small patch of dry grass in the whole city. The flood waters rose around all but that patch of grass. Half my brother's house sits on that small patch of dry ground. His house is the most fortunate house in all of Owego.

While the waters were rising, the river not yet crested, and John's wife, Jenny, and son Anthony, were trapped in the house, John had texted me.
"Now might be a good time to get on the God hotline," he said.
"I'm on it," I texted back.
I prayed and prayed, throughout the day, texting back and forth with my brother as the river rose. I prayed for the safety of John's family, and for his beautiful two hundred year old home.
Finally I got the text that the river had crested. And that Jenny and Anthony had been rescued.
However, I felt like John might think God had let him down. The house had still flooded, at least part way up the first floor level. But his family was safe. I praised God for His deliverance. Not a single person died in the overwhelming flood.

But as I gazed at the startling photograph of Owego underwater, with that single patch of grass beside my brother's house, I thought of the rest of the story I had learned later. Jenny had been able to walk across that single patch of dry ground between the waters, to the public phone in the business on the other side of the grass, and call the authorities. Every road was flooded. Owego was trapped in the water. The National Guard was alerted, and John's family was rescued by boat. I couldn't stop looking at that patch of grass, and thinking if that isn't an answer to prayer, I don't know what is.

"But what about the other people?" asked Asherel, when I told her the story.
Yes, I had thought of the other people. They weren't given a patch of grass. But everyone in Owego is safe, and there is much to be thankful for in that alone.
"I should have prayed more fervently for the whole city," I said, "I was so focused on praying for John's family..."
It is not that I think my prayers direct God, nor that they even influence God. But we are told to pray "without ceasing", and I do believe that obedience in prayer brings blessing. It may not bring the answers we long for, but there is always blessing in prayer. And if everyone would bow their head in prayer, they would have no time to loot, or blow up buildings...

This anniversary of 9/11, I have my first book signing. It was the Park Road Bookstore's available date, and thus assigned to me. But my book is one of hope, of redemption, of saving what seemed impossibly lost. Perhaps it is a good day for my book signing, after all.

When there is a flood of trouble around you, and today certainly is the memory of that, I think sometimes the only way to wade through the grief is to look for that one patch of dry ground. The waters do eventually recede, and flood plains have the richest soil of all to start anew, when we find the strength and courage to replant.

Nehemiah 9:10-12

¹¹ You divided the sea before them, so that they passed through it on dry ground, but you hurled their pursuers into the depths, like a stone into mighty waters. ¹² By day you led them with a pillar of cloud, and by night with a pillar of fire to give them light on the way they were to take.

Filled with Hope

The first day of art class is always the best. The kids enter the room filled with all the enthusiasm a summer's rest provides. They sit down bright eyed and expectant, eagerly awaiting all the pearls of wisdom that will fall from my lips. We all review the rules that will keep the class peaceful and productive. They quietly and respectfully listen, and the promise of the universe lies at our fingers.

Then class starts....

Soon pastel dust is slowly filling the air. The kids are so happy to be drawing and seeing each other again that they forget rule #1- no talking while I am talking, or I will lose my voice. Halfway through the class, I lose my voice, and the pictures of sunsets and silhouetted figures are beginning to emerge. The nervous newbies, who weren't sure they could draw, are no longer nervous. The class ends in a rush, and the happy young artists disperse like milkweed pods bursting open. One artist mentions she is a little sick of drawing sunsets.
"That's why I had you draw the person in front of it," I told her, "That was just for you."
"I know," she smiled, giving me a thumbs up, "And I have to show you something." The other kids are gone. She opens a sketchbook.
"See, I have been practicing blocking in my drawings, just like you told me."
I had been telling this particular, immensely talented artist to block in her drawings in this manner for years. it was like battling my teenage daughter over the dangers of too much computer time. There is good, and there is best. All my heartfelt instruction seemed to fall uselessly on deaf ears.

I stare at the young lady that had respectfully, but consistently defied my advice about blocking in the shapes before heading to details.
"And what did you decide?" I ask.
"It's easier," she agrees, "I love it."


She leaves class. I lie down and heave a deep sigh. Next, I need to convince her an artist should never get sick of sunsets, I think. No one should. I only rest a moment before scurrying off to vacuum before the rainbow pastel dust is ground permanently into my carpet.

Psalm 32:
⁸ I will instruct you and teach you in the way you should go;
   I will counsel you with my loving eye on you.

Isaiah 59:21
“As for me, this is my covenant with them,” says the LORD. “My Spirit, who is on you, will not depart from you, and my words that I have put in your mouth will always be on your lips, on the lips of your children and on the lips of their descendants—from this time on and forever,” says the LORD.

You'll Never Walk Alone

The hurricane is knocking on my oldest boy's door this morning. I am waiting, and praying, as Irene hammers the area where many relatives, including my own parents, and my dear son all live. We experienced the outer bands while vacationing at Hilton Head, and that was enough for me.

It is eerie watching the frightening videos and having seen first hand the absolute blackness of the sky as the hurricane roars by. And then, there is the next day. The forecast for Boston tomorrow is 78 and sunny. Hang on, beloved son, dear family and friends! Brighter skies beckon!

After our brush with Irene, I went bike riding on the beach, early in the morning. The sun was rising and the last of the hurricane clouds still lingered. They were perhaps as reluctant as we were to leave lovely Hilton Head and return to work, and the incredible chaos of the start of a new school year. But through the clouds, little fingernails of sun were scratching away. And then suddenly, it clawed open a small hole and the endless streams of golden light shattered the darkness and danced in silvery diamond steps across the glowing sea.

I biked and sang, on the empty beach. I sang a triumphant song from an old musical, Carousel. It reminded me that no matter how dark the skies of my life turn, I am never facing the darkness alone. To all my dear family and friends, huddling under stormy skies today, I am praying for you. You are not alone.

R. Rodgers and O. Hammerstein II

When you walk through the storm
Hold your head up high
And don't be afraid of the dark
At the end of the storm
There's a golden sky
And the sweet silver song of the lark

Walk on, through the wind
Walk on, through the rain
Though your dreams be tossed and blown
Walk on, walk on, with hope in your heart
And you'll never walk alone
You'll never walk alone

Walk on, walk on, with hope in your heart
And you'll never walk alone
You'll never walk alone

John 16:32-33

...Yet I am not alone, for my Father is with me.    ³³ “I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.”

Heavenly Neon Signs

God is everywhere so it should have been no surprise to find Him encouraging me from a corner of a bookstore.

I spent another morning writing and calling local, and national book store chains. If my book was going to be promoted, it was up to me, or it would die a sad and lonely death on the $1 pile of discarded writers' dreams. Two major chains were willing to have me send them a copy to review, so I sent those off, and followed up on a suggestion to contact a local independent retailer. The owner was very kind, and happy to work with me, and told me to bring my books and come in right away.

This was my first time walking in a bookstore with the intent of selling my book. In all the firsts of this year, this was yet another scary walking forward in an area I knew absolutely nothing about. I took a deep breath as I put my hand on the door knob, said a brief prayer, and was about to enter the store. Then I noticed a little sign affixed to the bookstore door. There was a picture of a little dog on it that looked surprisingly like Honeybun, the dog heroine of my book. This dog, Lula, wandered about the store, and was friendly, the sign informed me, but if anyone was bothered by her presence, the owner would put her in a back room.

I entered the bookstore, which was bustling with people. The owner glanced up, saw my armload of books, and urged me to come to the other side of the counter. I walked around to where he pointed, and saw curled in the corner, Lula, the dog.
"Is that a rescue dog?" I asked.
"Yes," he said.
"Do you know what breed?"
"Well the vet says she is a mix, part corgi maybe and the other part is American Dingo."
I laughed with delight and held up my book, "This is Honeybun! She is an American Dingo, a Carolina Dog!"
The owner picked up my book and looked at the cover photo, as did a few of the busy employees.
"What's your book about?" asked one.
"Well we found our Carolina Dog half dead on a roadside. And when she recovered her health, she became vicious to our other dog and to strangers. The book is about a very hard year trying to save a dog that everyone told me was not worth saving."

Lula came over to me and let me scratch behind her ears. If she had been a Labrador or poodle, it would not have been an omen. But Carolina Dogs are a rare breed, and few people even know about them.( and I can hear my friend, Nicole, chuckling in the background of my mind insisting there is no such thing as a Carolina Dog.) However, for the owner not only to have one in his bookstore, but to have rescued her, and have identified her as a Carolina Dog was in my eyes God putting a big neon arrow over his head saying, "This is where you are to sell your book!"

I signed the contract, and he then set up my first book signing.
"I would like to bring Honeybun to the book signing," I said, "Will that be ok?"
"That would be great," he said.
So here I am, a little nobody, with a little dog nobody wanted, set to sign our published book about the miracles nobodies can be a part of when empowered by Somebody, the biggest Somebody. Whomever might want my autographed book can find me on September 11, 2-4, at Park Road Books in the Park Rd. shopping center. My symbol of overcoming impossible situations will be sitting next to me, wagging her tail.

As I blasted through the door at home, excitement dripping off me like a waterfall, I called out to Asherel.
"I need you to teach Honeybun to shake paws!"
"She doesn't know how to shake.... she never has for me."
"She can do anything!" I said, thinking of Lula and the amazing encouragements of God.

Genesis 18: 14
Is anything too hard for the LORD?

Wobbly Weebles

Consumed with all the work surrounding my book publication, our summer that was meant to be calm and fun was taking a disturbing turn. So I carved out a few hours each afternoon this week for us to do something happy, something summery. Yesterday we snatched two of Asherel's friends and scurried off to Lake Wylie. It was supposed to be a record hot day, around 104 or so heat index. It was like stepping outside onto the surface of pizza fresh from the oven. Nonetheless, armed with water, kayaks, and skimboards, we headed off to Ebenezer Park. From the park we can kayak just a few minutes across to a little island. We usually dock at the island and the kids swim while I kayak along the shore and pretend I'm Gilligan from that old TV show Gilligan's Island, forced to survive having shipwrecked on this distant and unexplored land. I have it a little easier than Gilligan since I have a smart phone with which I can google the nearest take-out restaurant.

Before leaving, my friend Nicole suggested I develop a website for my author and book information. Several people suggested I do this, so I knew I should. One person told me it needed to be professional....not like my blog. Smarting a little from that compliment, I reeled into the world of web site development. As though figuring how to publish and market a book were not taxing enough on a brain accustomed to daydreaming about how to survive when shipwrecked on islands 500 feet from the mainland, I now applied its remaining 4 brain cells to this new task.  I found a free web host, and prayed that it was not riddled with viruses that would noodle their way into my hard drive. I was very pleased with myself as I filled out the necessary forms, gave myself a domain name (though I had to run and ask Arvo- "Before I do this....what exactly is a domain name?"), and then accepted their terms. Pushing the button "Accept terms" is as terrifying as "submit" which I discussed in yesterday's post. However, these terms were brief and I had no obligation to do much of anything, as far as I could tell, and those are the kinds of terms I can most readily accept. But then when I tried to do anything on my new website, I could not figure out how to even put my name on it.

Nicole wrote and offered to help. She told me while I was out kayaking to think of font style, colors, and content I wanted on my web page.
"Just make it green," I advised, "That's my favorite color."
That gives you a proper sense of how well equipped I was to tackle web development.

So off we went into the leaden heat. We brought Josh with us, which guaranteed that we would have nonstop entertainment of one type or another. While Alex and Asherel submerged themselves up to their eyeballs in the cooling water, Josh ran up and down the shore for two hours skim-boarding.
"Come on Asherel, Alex! Ready, this is all you do, drop the board, run, jump on.....see? It's easy. Now ready, GO!"
Occasionally, Asherel would make feeble attempts to follow the steps up to the point she was to leap on the board and skim, but usually opted out of that part.
I kayaked back and forth off shore from them, ready to leap in should there be any need to dial 911. The only emergency was when Josh got a little cut in his foot, and then a little pebble embedded itself in his cut. While I sat nearby, he gouged the pebble out, giving me step by step analysis of the treatment procedure, and then ripped the flap of damaged skin off.
"There!" he said, and was back to his skim boarding. I admire someone who knows what needs to be done, and just does it without flinching. The girls continued to submerge like hippos hiding from the African sun. Josh continued to beg and cajole and demonstrate how easy it was.
Finally Josh called out, "Come on Asherel- you are making me feel bad that I am so good!"

I returned the kids largely in one piece, minus a small flap of skin on one, to their parents, and settled back in front of the computer to have another go at my web page. My friend had sent me a new web hosting server and suggested I try working a web page from that host. I was happy to take her advice for two reasons:
1. She had developed web pages before and was knowledgable, and I was not, and
2. The web host was called "weebly" and my web page would be vickykaseorg.weebly.com . Who could pass up a name like that? Weebles wobble but they don't fall down. 

With that encouraging refrain in my head, I followed the directions, and downloaded 4 pictures successfully and then put a page of text on my new web page. It looked horrible and crowded, and I could not for the life of me figure out how to make the paragraph stay in a nice little contained space instead of sprawling like spilled milk across my page. And most disturbing was when I showed the site in progress to Nicole, she told me the author photo looked like I was wearing no pants. I was kneeling beside Honeybun in that photo, and since my shorts didn't show, just my huge foreshortened knees, I could see where one might think that. This would not have been at all a big deal....it would be easy enough to change the web page photo....but it was also the photo on the back of my new book....the proof of which was coming tomorrow. Since nudity is not the message I am hoping my book will convey, I saw that there were already going to have to be changes to my book, and publication date was going to be delayed even further. Unlike Josh, I was not so good at this that I was making my friends look bad. And I had unhappy thoughts that in this case, the weeble might very well fall down.

Nicole quickly discerned that my skills were not finely honed in this area, and offered to work with the site a little and see what she could do. An hour later she sent me a beautiful, elegant web page.
 It was her first stab at it, and "not even close" she said, but I could have an idea of what was needed.
And I did now have an idea of what was needed....someone other than me doing it is what was needed. I was like the girls submerged in the water watching the master skim board past me. No one was in any danger of feeling bad because I was so good.

But I also remembered Josh ripping that piece of skin off without a moment's hesitation and I told Nicole that it was gorgeous, a wondrous start of my web page, and I would play with it today to add the necessary text. I didn't know how to train a dog with intense fear aggression when I started with Honeybun, but Nicole helped me then as well, and in the end, we succeeded. I didn't know how to write a book or try to publish it, but several agents offered free advice, and in the end, we succeeded. I didn't know how to walk at one time,  but my mother held my hands and supported my first few steps, and in the end we succeeded.

Life is too hard. Way too hard. But fortunately, I am not all alone on the island. While daydreaming about being all on my own trying to tackle the trauma of survival on a distant island, I was surrounded by friends willing to put themselves out on my behalf.  I think there is no better expression of God's spirit within us and around us.  Wobbling, I signed back into my weeble account.

Exodus 23:4-6

 ⁴ “If you come across your enemy’s ox or donkey wandering off, be sure to return it. ⁵ If you see the donkey of someone who hates you fallen down under its load, do not leave it there; be sure you help them with it.

A Fitting Message

Yesterday I almost drove over a mink looking creature, then a black cat, and then a deer. Earlier we saw a fox which had a stare down contest with us for several minutes, and behind him,we think was a wolf. But still no bear. I may have to go even deeper into the wilderness.

I warned Matt repeatedly that the deer were rampant in this area and to drive very slowly on his way to our condo late last night. I may have warned him one or twenty times more than was strictly necessary, but the only one who came close to hitting a deer was me. It is Matt I most want to survive the next two days til the wedding..... but I want to be there too. Maybe I will wait to look for the bear til after the wedding.

Matt told me he checked out the story on the family he gave the bed to. He called the church they said they volunteer for. The church confirmed this was a wonderful family. The husband had severely injured his back and not worked for 6 months, and was only recently able to. The house was close to foreclosure. Matt and Karissa could not have picked a nicer family in greater need to help, they were told.

So Matt asked me to make a card with my artistic skill, and write something inspirational. Then he and Karissa would enclose a check.

"What inspirational message do you want me to convey?" I asked.
"Hope," he said.

A fitting message two days before his wedding.

Romans 8:22-25 NIV

We know that the whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time. Not only so, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for our adoption to sonship, the redemption of our bodies. For in this hope we were saved. But hope that is seen is no hope at all. Who hopes for what they already have? But if we hope for what we do not yet have, we wait for it patiently.

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The Devil Chased from the Deviled Eggs

When I walked in to the Alzheimer unit to pick up Comer and Evelyn, two unfamiliar women sat on the bed talking with them. Normally I get Comer from his building across the campus, and then we drive over to Evelyn's building. He called me cryptically before I left the house and told me to meet him at Evelyn's place. When I arrived, Comer and Evelyn were holding hands and Evelyn looked up at me, and smiled brightly.
"Are you the neighbor who takes Comer and Evelyn out every week?" asked one woman. She had a clipboard in her hand.
"One of them," I answered, "And we have a treat for today! Evelyn, I have a whole CD full of songs from the 40s!"
"Oh my!" she said, her eyes sparkling.
"Will you still be taking them out when they go to Sunrise?"
I paused and glanced at Comer. He grinned slyly back at me.
"Sunrise?" I asked.
"They will be moving there Tuesday," answered the other woman.
Evelyn's cheeks were sliding right off her face, she was smiling so big.
"Will they be together?" I asked.
All four heads bobbed.
"Same building, separated only by an elevator. They can see each other as long as they want, as often as they want, all day, every day."
"Oh Evelyn!" I cried, clutching her hand in mine, "No more saying Goodbye!"
"Yes," she said, laughing.
"Well then this will be a celebration lunch!" I said.
"Then we will be out of your hair," said the Sunrise representative. She leaned over and shook Comer's hand, "And we will see you Tuesday."

As we headed to the elevator, I said, "Comer! How did you keep this a secret?"
"I wanted to tell you myself, and see your face."
"Oh Evelyn, you must be so happy! What is your favorite food so we can celebrate in style!?"
Without pausing, she said, "Deviled eggs!"
"Evelyn...you're killin' me here.....I don't know any fast food place that sells deviled eggs. What is your second favorite?"
"Fried Chicken."
"Ok- we can do that, and how about a milkshake?"
"Oh yes!"
"And Asherel is ready in the car with a CD filled with songs you will know."
"Oh! Asherel is here!" said Evelyn merrily, her bubbling joy sincere.

We only spilled the milkshake once as we meandered through rainy neighborhoods. There were 50 songs on the CD and Evelyn knew every one. Somehow, in between singing, she managed to eat her entire meal, and all but the little bit of spilled milkshake.
"She's eating again," said Comer smiling, in reference to her month or so of listlessly wasting away.
"She sure seems like someone who discovered a reason to keep living," I said, smiling back at him.
"She sure seems to," he agreed.

As we returned to the Alzheimers Center, Evelyn gripped my arm offered in support, and we quietly sang , "When you're smiling...." which has become our anthem. As we passed a woman with a slack face, clutching her walker, she glanced up and began singing with us. We stopped in front of her and finished the song together.
"You have a lovely voice!" I told her, taking her hand in mine.
"I don't know where it's been hiding....maybe in my toes," she answered, patting my hand.
"Happy Easter everyone," I called to the solemn group of elderly folk ringing the room.
"Happy Easter," said one perpetually grinning man in a wheelchair.

Resurrections come in many sizes. There is of course the Big one, the one we will celebrate on Sunday. That is Resurrection with a capital R. But there are little resurrections too, daily resurrections where hope that was but a flicker rekindles and songs from long ago leap across time to settle on ears that had ceased to listen for angels, for the triumph of miracles. And sometimes when you are smiling, the whole world really is smiling too.

Psalm 27:5-7

⁵ For in the day of trouble
   he will keep me safe in his dwelling;
he will hide me in the shelter of his sacred tent
   and set me high upon a rock.
 ⁶ Then my head will be exalted
   above the enemies who surround me;
at his sacred tent I will sacrifice with shouts of joy;
   I will sing and make music to the LORD.

The Lesson of Honeybun

Only one speech to go and Asherel would finish her manual in Gavel Club.I believe she gets some sort of title, like "Novice Speaker Able to Talk for Ten Minutes Without Visible Heart Palpitations or eyeballs falling out of your head", or something like that. She had to do her final speech outside of the actual Gavel club class as the coordinator wanted all the kids who were so close to completing a book to have the opportunity to do so. That meant scheduling extra time after Gavel Club ended for the day.

As a result, she would be giving her speech in front of the coordinator, the timer, one other speaker who would go next...and me. So our little group gathered and Asherel gave her speech. A friend and mother wandered in to listen. Asherel's speech had specific parameters that had to be adhered to, the most important being it was to be "inspirational."

The title of her speech was "Honeybun."

In her talk, Asherel recounted how we found the starving, dying, mud-encrusted dog, bereft of newly born pups, covered with ticks. I felt tears start to trickle in the corners of my eyes.
"Don't cry, don't cry, " I murmured inside.
Then Asherel told how we had no money or desire for a second dog but how we ended up bringing her home anyway. She spoke about how Honeybun became aggressive, attacking our other dog, and threatening people as well.  As she continued the story of how we tried to get rid of Honeybun, I was digging my fingernails into my palms so I would not weep. She recounted those hard, hard days, when our every waking moment was centered on keeping Honeybun from killing Lucky or neighbors while trying to hoist her off on someone, anyone else. She told how Hollow Creek Farm helped us work with Honeybun since we had absolutely no knowledge or skill to help the little dog, but we were hesitant to send her to Animal control, knowing aggressive dogs are euthanized.

Fortunately, Asherel studiously avoided looking at me during her speech or she would have seen me biting my lip and swatting at my eyes. I remembered those days, how hopeless they seemed, how insurmountable the obstacles, how impossible the odds of success. I remembered Hollow Creek Farm warning us that this "fear aggression" was the hardest to heal, and could take years. Years! I remember losing weight, taking the dogs on 5 mile power walks twice a day to exhaust them, reading every dog training book I could find, muzzling and tethering Honeybun when I could not be holding her leash. I remember thinking I can not live this way for 5 more minutes. And then when 5 minutes passed, certain I could not live 5 minutes more.

Then Asherel spoke about how she began training Honeybun in Agility. She told about building the agility course out of sticks and furniture in our backyard, and how Honeybun seemed to like it. It became part of her therapy. She told about Honeybun's eventual entrance into Agility Trials, winning ribbons and titles, and transforming over the next 3 years to a docile and beloved pet.

"Saving one little dog doesn't make much of a difference considering all the dogs that don't have homes and are in rescues and humane societies. There are many many more dogs that are waiting to be saved. But for one little dog, for Honeybun, it meant everything."  With that conclusion, her last speech for the school year ended. She had spoken a bit fast, so that it was hard to quite understand every word. Had she slowed down, I might still be sobbing. She delivered her 10 minute speech in 6 minutes. 6 minutes that described one of the hardest years of my life.

When I look back on my life, the things I remember with the greatest satisfaction are the things that were the hardest to accomplish. The most difficult struggles that I felt could not be overcome, but somehow...were....those are the memories that give me the most joy.  Of course, like everyone, when I was going through those struggles, I was pretty ticked off at God at times.
"Why did you send me this dog, and then watch me suffer financially, physically, emotionally, for 2 years after I did a kind thing? Is that how you repay compassion!? No wonder so few people reach out to be the Good Samaritan if this is the result!"

It is hard to value the lesson, the transformation, while you are enduring it. In fact, it usually hurts to the point where you are not certain you can bear it. It is so easy to toss your crumpled dreams and life into the nearest waste basket and settle into all the piles of scratched out, erased, and mangled hopes.

Those little victories, eeked out in the midst of battle after battle after battle of a world that seems bent towards hopelessness, complacency, and despair may make little difference in the grand scheme of things.....
but in the end, mean everything.

Isaiah 57: 9
¹⁰ You wearied yourself by such going about,
   but you would not say, ‘It is hopeless.’
You found renewal of your strength,
   and so you did not faint.

Job 6:10-11

¹⁰ Then I would still have this consolation—
   my joy in unrelenting pain—
   that I had not denied the words of the Holy One.
 ¹¹ “What strength do I have, that I should still hope?
   What prospects, that I should be patient?

Psalm 31:24

²⁴ Be strong and take heart,
   all you who hope in the LORD.