Life certainly takes some twists and turns… and dumps into the river, and falls off the cliff.

Searing heights, and devastating bottom-dwelling lows are also on this journey. I’m grateful for the balance, and yes, even the sad and frustrating times.

I really believe that if everything was status quo most of the time, we’d learn zilch. We would never appreciate the easy times. It really about navigating the extremes, and holding on until the path straightens, and you get out of the gravel.

I’d really like to think life will calm. It will, but I need to learn to take better breaths when it does.

I have been dealing with varying degrees of advocacy for family members for over 10 years. It is

not something I ever thought I would have to face, let alone for this amount of time. a horrible movement disorder, suffered a tragic fall, and her ultimate death from breast cancer. I have been advocating for my dad for the last 10 years in some form or another. I advocated for my beloved grandmother, when all but one of her 5 children bailed on her during her battle with pancreatic cancer. I advocated for my mom, who struggled with a disabling movement disorder, suffered a tragic fall, and also ultimately lost her battle to breast cancer. One grandchild is on my radar now…. and it seems like an impossible situation…..

But God. The author of the universe, and the one who aligns the stars.

He can keep the planets hung in the heavens, and He can also watch over a little boy.

One of the places I can find that peace and a steady knowing is along a shoreline. The waters seem so vast, and the sky seems to go on forever. If my God can command the currents… the mighty waves that course their way to and from the depth of oceans…. He can surely take control over my little problems.

It seems the issues we have with this world stem from a belief that we should always be happy. Have zero problems. Not only is that not possible… its delusional. Also, how can we possibly appreciate the good, if we don’t have the hard? The difficult and sometimes, the impossible. That is miracle ground.

God does His best work in the impossible.

I am waiting to see what He is going to do. He’s never failed yet.

There is a red firetruck in my bathroom, and it makes me smile. Not a little grin, mind you, but one of those ginormous goofy grins.

That little truck is proof my little E has been here, in all his 18 month old glory.

I am amazed at how this little boy has been a ball of joy, and a constant light in my life. God sent him at the most critical time. A time when I did not want to live.

His arrival coincided with calamity. It seemed so drear that his dad was in prison. My life was in shambles. What kind of support was his young mom going to have? What kind of life would this innocent kid have?? I always imagined a little home for my grandchildren to come visit… one with a sweet walkway to come running up, a backyard with flowers and toys to play on, and a sunny kitchen to bake goodies and do random toddler science experiments and play doh creations.

I had recently moved to a little third floor apartment, that was a far cry from anything I could have imagined living.

After a break up from a long term relationship full of broken promises… I was left with poor health, poor finances, and a string of sadness. I continued to suffer with issues from treatment the aggressive breast cancer left behind. My mom passed only a few weeks after E was born. It was another life-blow. My fragile existence was not even hanging by a thread.

I remember the day I got the message that E had been born. I could not stop crying… joy, sadness, grief….. This tiny child. So perfect. Praise God he was healthy, and his mom was doing well. I was a grandmother. I could not process it.

I called the prison and asked to speak to my son, to tell him of the little one’ birth. In tears, I relayed my son’s information that he should have been there to witness himself. He was so grateful, and was appreciative when a kind guard walked by and said, “Congratulations, daddy.”

My life was so full of surreal things: going to a prison to see my son. Sitting bedside only a few weeks later at my mother’s deathbed. Consoling my distraught father after losing his wife of 52 years.

This tiny boy coming into this crazy situation. On more than one occasion I asked God,
“What are you doing???”

The worst was, when I stopped asking. I stopped wondering and thinking that the God of the universe cared for me. Obviously, He didn’t.

I never doubted His goodness…or His sovereignty, but his desire for good things for me?

Yep, I had completely given up. I was tired. Worn, sad, used up, hopeless, void. Done.

I had plans. Put things in motion. All was set. I had gone to the bank, written letters.

E’s mom called and wanted to bring days-old E to meet me.

What could I lose in meeting this small boy?

My heart. I lost my heart.

I held him in wonder. His little head was shaped like his daddy’s. He was the most beautiful infant I have ever seen in my life. Tears coursed down my cheeks as I held this tiny being, straight from God’s heart. Thought up in his omnipresent mind….and could it be, that He was thinking of me, too?

We would be fast friends, sweet boy and I. I have loved every minute of his milestones and growth. I adored all of the goodness in being a parent when G was young, but this? It is in another realm. I think we are more relaxed and more in wonder at the grandparent stage.

I’d like to say I did not entertain further thoughts on leaving, but that took more months to work out, with grappling, like we have to do with our faith. There were many long conversations with the Lord where I would sit rocking this sleeping infant in my arms, and nothing else to distract me, and that is when God would come to sit with my broken heart. We chatted a lot. He was binding up wounds.

While I was holding E, He was holding me.

Bottom line- He is a good God. He has plans to give us a hope and a future, plans to prosper us and not for harm.

This bitty one came into this world under hard circumstances. But there is such great purpose.

Another tiny life emerged thousands of years ago and became the Savior of the world.

That tiny firetruck… God’s rescue, and the joy of a little boy.

It has been over a year since my only son started serving his jail sentence.

I have not hugged him in fourteen months. I am grateful for the few times I could visit him, even if through a plexiglass-screened cubicle.

The dread and fear I felt the first time I entered the jail was indescribable. I was physically ill, vomiting. The only experience I had ever had with the law was getting a few speeding tickets over my lifetime. I was now only able to see my son…the same baby I once held…sitting in an orange jumpsuit. Talking on phones and putting my hand up to the plexiglass to touch his was a surreal experience.

I would lay awake sometimes for hours in the dark, and wonder what I could have done differently as a parent. His mom. Did I read enough books? Was it because I let him have too much sugar? Was I not a good disciplinarian? To the much harder: should I have sought full custody when his father and I divorced? Could I have prayed harder for a loving father and role model to come into his life?

Where did I fail him as a mother?

I have learned so many things in this experience with Gage, and in this season of life.

I am not in control, ever.

I cannot control anyone’s thoughts, deeds, choices, intentions, reactions, lies, addictions illness, mental and emotional struggles, generational curses, pain, suffering or their happiness and well-being.

No matter how well-intentioned I am…it’s all in vain, and out of my hands.

The most recent situation where Gage was relentlessly targeted after an altercation with a senior gang member, was nerve-wracking. The peace came only when we knew the Lord was near, and so many were praying for G’s safety, and covering him in a night prayer blanket. The temptation to live every day in fear of what might happen is so hard.

I think of Abraham, who had to face relinquishing his beloved son, Isaac. This dad had to give up his desire to protect his son, but learned that in the letting go— God loved his son even more than he did. God’s plans were good.

Lord, help me to release my control, and hand my son, his life, and his safety and situation into your loving arms. ~~*

Psalm 94:18

When I say my foot is slipping, your unfailing love, Lord, supported me.

It is merely twenty days into the New Year, and we have had gobs of snow. I realize not all individuals looks upon snow in the manner I do, and that is nice.

Real nice.

When we are kids, we see it as a get-out-of-school fun day. Snowmen, angels, forts, and snow cream kept us all busy, with rosy cold cheeks.

As adults, we have to dig out cars, paths for animals to go potty, and still get out in the white mess. Its not the hot chocolate and cookies kinda day it was in our youth.

I think the times when it really got to be worrisome for me was when Mom and Dad were still living in their home. With both being wheelchair-bound, it was always in the back of my mind that it would be a true catastrophe if they lost power. They had neighbors, yes, but no one to take them in with the ability to accommodate all of their needs.The feeding, toileting and health care needs for two adults for a caregiver was challenging at times, let alone in a dark and cold house.

It did indeed happen one time. A friend had to take a gas generator up to keep them from freezing. It was a blessing for sure, but it was also another big gut-punch realization that they could no longer stay in their own home as they wanted.

In my “advancing” age, I see things a bit differently. I used to wonder why anyone would desire to not live in four-seasons-Virginia.

I’m a thinking I get it.

Here’s Johnny!

The Road Not Taken 

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

The Eagles. They referenced roads quite a bit in their songs. Poetry, like Mr. Robert Frost’s in the above stanzas, describe a choice of path, which can be referring to life choices.

Have you ever wondered how one turn of events can be life-altering? So small; but holding a power: that of the unknown.

A word not said. A car drive not taken. A job turned down. The pursuit of the second degree. A divorce. A choice of hospice over more treatment.

We are rich indeed, to find there are many choices that can be made in our lifetime… a gift many are denied in many cultures.

The most overwhelming fact: we cannot always know the outcome.

Roads we think lead to happiness, may lead to pain.

So many voices speaking on choice of as small a thing as a path, a direction, a specific lane.

Roads can lead to no where. Roads can also lead us to peace and beauty.

Praying for discernment and a great navigational system. I don’t want to miss any turns.

What did the Tin Man say about hearts?

A heart is not practical when it can still be broken?

Yes- we know we are being vulnerable. We extend ourselves emotionally, physically and mentally, and take for granted the one we shower with love will reciprocate.

We cannot fully understand reasoning of another. Intention of another. Plans of another.

It’s amazing anyone decides to trust another human being.

A quote I read a few months ago says when we see the frailty of human love, we realize how much we need the love of God.

Because it will not tire, fail, say ugly things, let us down, hurt or disappoint.

I Corinthians 13:4-7

⁴ Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. ⁵ It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.⁶ Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. ⁷ It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

Humans can never love one another completely. It will always be faulty.

We just do the best we can with the broken pieces.

One of my favorite songs from my youth growing up in the 70’s and 80’s was one called Vox Humana. Sung in a “Footloose” and up-beat, manner, by the prolific Kenny Loggins.

The term vox humana simply means the human voice. In Italian, it sounds more fascinating.

The human voice, though, itself, is fascinating. I studied speech pathology in college, and marveled how God created folds of flesh and sinew and breath to form words- communication. Communication of those words in different forms collectively give such meaning to every emotion we experience.

You can say the word “good” in 100 different ways. Go ahead and try.

You can say it with indifference, like you don’t care. You can say it in anger. You can say it like someone just handed you the most delicious piece of chocolate cake.

The voice of your mom, telling you everything would be alright. The voice of the teacher who resembled a witch from that horrendous year in 6th grade. The voice of a love you will never forget. The voice of your grandma with a lilting voice reciting poetry. The voice of your small child saying they love you.

I pray I have used mine in ways less to hurt or damage, but more so, to bless and encourage and love.

What an amazing gift

Once upon a time, a young Lady met a dashing Prince from a far away land.

Their courtship was sweet, complete with dancing, fine dinners, and walks in the moonlight. The Prince swept the maiden off of her feet, and they were very much in love.

Alas, the Lady experienced troublesome times, when her parents did not accept their daughter’s deep love for the Prince, and forbade the young lovers to ever meet again.

To honor the Lady, the Prince tried to distance himself. She also, tried to forget her Prince.

The bond was too great; it was an impossible task.

After much pleading for their case, the lovers would not gain the acceptance they desired…. yet, even then, they could not stray from one another’s hearts.

The Lady’s family abandoned her, and the lovers clung to one another. Their love story was filled with meaningful days and sweet nights, with hearts bent on pleasing the other.

The lady had no one but her Prince.

Although he loved her, he felt she needed more.

Sacrifice holds a price.

The Prince sent his Lady back to her family, and while she regained her parent’s favor, her life was never the same without her Prince.

Life carried on for them both, but years later, they would still remember the bond, as deep as the ocean.

Love never dies.

The moral of the story:

Find your Lady. Find your Prince. And never let them go.

~