Spring Break In Pictures

(Due to my continued battle with this illness, I didn't get photos of everyone.) I did, however, enjoy every minute of having all of my kids here and Ethan too.


Guitar Heroes




Boys & Computers




Mmmmm...Popcycles!



Denver Nuggets Game

Making & Eating Brownies
(My apologies to my 3 kids who didn't make it any photos, and for not getting any Dance, Dance, Revolution Pics.)

Birthing

I've been reading Jenni's birth stories. If you are like me, watch birth stories on t.v., share your own, enjoy hearing the intimate details of birth once not even allowed to be witnessed by dads, you gotta check on Jenni's blog (that is, if you haven't already.) She is close to delivering her 12th child and is in the process of regaling us with every birth story until the last, which will no doubt be in real time.

There is something about the miracle of birth, but equally amazing is the heroics of every mom who has ever born a child. Does any pregnant woman really believe it will be as painful as others describe? So far, I have yet to meet one who could have imagined what the birth experience would really entail. No matter how many televised births seen, or girlfriend stories she has heard, it seems giving birth is a unique experience. Why shouldn't it be? Every child is uniquely individual, shouldn't their birth be too?

As a little girl, I listened to my mom share her stories. It seemed like she always began with my brothers birth. He wasn't the oldest, but his birth must have been the most dramatic. She'd begin with a phrase about her water breaking before they left for the hospital. This always intrigued me. I envisioned a water pipe in the laundry room spewing water everywhere. I wondered why she never mentioned when they cleaned all that water up or what happened. I was left to imagine my dad fixing the pipe later, after the birth of my brother.

His birth was most certainly a sensational event. His shoulders were larger than his head, causing him to get stuck in the birth canal. In a flurry of activity, the doctors put my mom our with some sort of gas, and they must have lost her on the table. She had an experience at that time that she didn't share with everyone. It can be described as a classic out-of-body, or near-death experience. Thankfully, my brother was delivered and my mom brought back to life too.

Her first birth was equally amazing. My oldest sister was born 2 1/2 month premature. According to my dad, he went to church the day after her birth. It was Father's Day and the asked all of the dads to stand. When my dad stood, his friends told him he wasn't really a father yet and to sit back down. He had the opportunity to share that he indeed was a father. Carolyn was born at a state-of-the art hospital where they were trying new therapies with preemies. My sister ended up being the youngest preemie to survive at that time.

My birth, being the 3rd child, sounded not-quite-so-exciting. It was a very quick, easy labor. In fact, I was some young intern's first delivery. I did enjoy hearing my mom tell how this intern asked her, "is this your first child?" After my mom replied no, he said, "well that's good, because this is my first delivery." My youngest sister's delivery was even more boring, with not amuch in the way of anecdotes.

Any one who has given birth deserves a medal of courage. If you want to share your birth story, let me know. I want to hear it.

This and That

Day 16 of a sore throat & congestion, that doesn't appear to be clearing anytime soon.

My mother-in-law had this great idea to fly to North Carolina to see her oldest daughter for Mother's Day and wanted her favorite daughter-in-law to accompany her. So guess who will be seeing the state of North Carolina for the first time in May? I'm so excited. Anyone out there live in Charlotte?

The best moment ever, on an Easter Sunday? Standing at the end of our church service, praying. The Pastor was inviting anyone who desired to a new life in Christ to come forward. People began walking towards the altar. I prayed for hearts to be soft and open. I felt a hand on my shoulder and a whisper in my ear. "Mom, would you go up there with me?" And with tears streaming down my face, I stepped out with my daughter, as she rededicated her life to the Lord. Nothing could bring greater joy.

A Nice Surprise-Not

In early December, you may recall I was pretty excited. I posted that Ethan was finally going to get the extra help he needed. He was to begin attending an autistic school. Can you believe he hasn't started yet?

Christina was told it would probably be February before he actually got in...you know the logistics, evaluating Ethan to see what his needs are, hiring a teacher, blah, blah, blah. But nothing happened. It gets sort of confusing, something about another child took his spot, he's next on the list...you get the picture. I'm wondering the whole time, what good does moving him so close to the end of the school year??? And what is taking so dang long?

Finally, a couple of weeks ago, Ethan was evaluated. Then came a meeting with the school district head honcho, who holds the power cards to approve, disapprove, allow, disallow-the one who holds the purse strings. The meeting also consisted of the director the Autistic School so she would know what exactly what head honcho was going to allocate for Ethan. It was during this meeting that Christina found out funding was approved for the remainder of the Spring semester, and for the Fall and Spring semester of next year. Sounded great. There was only one problem.

The Autistic School is year round. This means for 5 weeks this summer, there are no funds for Ethan to attend school. The new school said it would not be conducive for Ethan to start and then be absent for 5 weeks. If this was the case, he would not be accepted into their school. Translated: Christina needs to come up with a couple thousand dollars or so, in order for Ethan to attend his new school.

Isn't this a nice surprise?

All week I've felt guilty. My poor blog has been suffering feelings of rejection as I've logged on to the computer, yet failed to offer any words of assurance that I'm committed to her. So here I am.

Have I ever mentioned I don't multi-task? My computer operates just fine, performing simultaneous functions. I, on the other hand, can't even think about or plan more than one thing at a time. I can't plan Easter events before the last birthday celebration is completed. When I'm shopping for groceries on Monday I was able to buy for the week's meals, including a birthday dinner for Hilary. But forget planning for Easter dinner. My brain just cannot work all of those thoughts out. Easter snuck in way too early this year.

Yesterday was not only the end of the week and Good Friday, but it was officially the start of Spring Break for my school kids. Woohoo! That sort of snuck up on me too. Since I can't plan ahead, immediately I wanted to pack up the car and take off to some exotic location. (Ok, Arizona isn't exactly exotic, but warm & wild enough for me.) Gas prices don't scare me. (I don't pay the bills.) But Elisabeth has committed to house sitting for cousins who are at this moment, enjoying the tropics of Arizona. I'd feel awful leaving her behind with a houseful of pets. Sigh.

The good news? On Thursday, Christopher is boarding a plane in sunny Arizona and flying to not-quite-spring-yet Colorado. Ethan is on Spring break, so Christina and he will drive up to share in the fun. My house will be full. The heck with Spring Break, it will feel more like summer vacation.

Waiting For Baby

"We waited for months,
We waited for weeks.
We waited for days you see.
Our baby you'll always be!"

I picked up your book this morning, and read it cover to cover. "Written for Hilary Rose, by her maternal grandmother, so she'll always know she is loved." It is a delightful story of how we waited for you, our 5th baby to be born. Papa & Gramma were here to share in the excitement. Gramma penned the words, and snapped lots of photos to go into this book. She wanted you to know you were loved as much as our 1st, 2nd, 3rd, & 4th child. Even though you were the 9th grandchild, your birth was special. God planned for you.

At 16, you continue to fill our lives with joy, laughter, and beauty-exactly what your names mean.

>

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I didn't know you would be our last child. Gramma was right, "our baby you'll always be!" Happy 16th Birthday Hilary, We love you.

Thank-you

Thanks everyone for the birthday wishes. I had a lovely day. I made a lavish Mexican Fiesta, with my favorite dishes. (And yes, I could have gone out to dinner, but I wanted to save that for the weekend when Christina and Ethan could join us.) Of course I completely forgot Hilary was having her 16th birthday party on Saturday. How did I forget? I'd been cleaning the basement for 2 weeks so she'd have room for all of those teens.


I did have a pretty cake.


Sadly, I had a bad hair day all week. I had my hair cut on Monday. I'd made the appointment the week prior. Upon arriving, I couldn't remember how I wanted it cut. I knew I wanted 3 or 4 inches off the length in back, I just didn't know why. My hairdresser knows me pretty well and I trust her. She snipped to her heart's delight. The next day my memory returned and so did my reasons for cutting the length. I didn't want so many layers, just a bit towards the bottom. By cutting it shorter, the layers would be longer and it would be thicker. I now have the length off AND very short layers on top. The exact opposite of what I wanted. I wish I had a brain sometimes and could remember things.
Thanks for the wonderful birthday wishes. We celebrated again last night by going out to dinner. Tomorrow is Hilary's actual 16th birthdate. We'll eat more cake. Did I mention this is our birthday season?

What a nice surprise to wake up to this morning.

Sarabeth is graduating from high school this May. She has a commemorative tassle hanging from the rear view mirror, with an '08 dangling from it. At one point, it twisted around backwards and read '80. How funny. That was my class year.

I was flipping through the radio stations and noticed the "oldies" station no longer plays 50's and 60's music. They were playing 70's and 80's. When did that happen? Is my generation old?

But then I remember. I didn't actually graduate in 1980, like I was supposed to. I graduated in 1997. That makes me the class of '97. I feel so much younger.

To celebrate my birthday, would you mind leaving a comment? I'd love to know who's reading or who might have recently stopped by. Go ahead, make my day!

An Anniversary (Part 2)

As the months passed, we began to see a transformation. They were no longer Ed & Betty, living at the Meridian. Upon visiting my inlaws we were stepping into the community they'd immersed themselves. I'd find my mother-in-law, sitting at the puzzle table, just outside her room. She'd introduce me to her friends who were working with her on the current puzzle. They began inviting us to special dinners, like the "Wine & Candelight." What a joy to see them chatting away with so many new friends, pointing out which table they normally sit at and with whom.

Ed began stepping out of his comfort zone. When he comes to dinner, he doesn't seem to mind that we don't eat at 4, or even 5. He ventured downtown with us for Elisabeth's birthday at a ESPN Sports Zone, which is a glorified sports bar. Unless the weather is bad, he insists on going to his doctor appointments without us. He shares about the very informative and interesting talks given by (I wish I could remember the name of the organization.) Even after his heart attack just 6 weeks ago, my father-in-law insisted on driving over here a few days ago, to return a movie we'd loaned him. He came by himself, and we sat on the porch and visited while his lovely wife Elizabeth, was learning the card game Canasta.

Speaking of Elizabeth, I am so impressed. I remembered her saying how much she wished she could go by the name Elizabeth, instead of Betty. When I took her to my hairdresser for the first time, I made the appointment for "Elizabeth" and introduced her as such. She loves reading books with strong, female characters. I think "Elizabeth" sounds bolder than Betty.

Elizabeth stepped out of her comfort zone and began playing Bingo on Saturday nights. She attends exercise classes twice a week, reads with a group of second graders, learned to play Bunco, and ventures down to movie night. She isn't afraid to speak up. When some of the residents began discussing the shortfalls of the dininig hall chef, she joined a committee that meets to see that changes are made.

She was chatting with Sarabeth a few weeks ago. Sarabeth is graduating from high school in May and will go off to college in the Fall. Elizabeth excitedly explained the opportunity opening up before her. "You can be anybody you want to be. No one will know you at college. You can reinvent yourself. Everyone at this school knows you as the same little girl that you were when you started seventh grade. It's hard to change within that environment. Look at me, I've been Betty all of my life. Thanks to this move, I've become Elizabeth and it wasn't until I was 80 years old. I could never have done that living in Arizona."

This year has passed quickly. My inlaws not only survived their first winter in Colorado, but I'd say they were living well. We are so very blessed!

An Anniversary (Part 1)

Saturday is an anniversary of sorts around here. One year ago, my inlaws boarded a plane with as many clothes as their suitcases could hold, and came here to live for the rest of their lives. It was huge.

They'd spent the last 42 years in the hot desert of Arizona and were entering the ever-changing weather of Colorado. How would they adjust to living in snow?

At first we planned to renovate our home to provide them with space and privacy. After months of configuring, strategizing, engineering, researching,we came up with another plan. We found a lovely retirement community, the Meridian. It was close to our home with many amenitites that we couldn't provide-the first being a quiet place. Even though our home is quieter than it has been in years, it can still be bustling with activity and noise. That can be difficult to escape. At 83 and 79 years old, we felt a home at Meridian would offer them so much more than we could provide.

Shortly after their arrival, we worried. Had we made the right decision? They seemed tired, frail, sad. Michael and I doubted they'd be able to live on their own. During family dinners, it seemed they missed much of the conversations. We feared the noise level was too much, the chatting, laughter, and silly stories were not enjoyable but exhausting for them. What were we to do?

It didn't take too many days or weeks before we began to see remarkable improvement. Not only were they smiling more, they were becoming a central part of dinner conversations. Playful teasing, joking, and lots of laughter was exchanged between the kids and their grandparents. We were thrilled.

Towards the beginning of April, Michael and Christopher drove a truck of their downscaled belongings, and moved them into their one bedroom apartment. After everything was unpacked, we said goodbye and closed the door. As we walked from the building, I had butterflies in my stomach. The same flutters I felt the first day of Kindergarten with each of my children.

After 5 years, my child was no longer exclusively under my care.

After 5 weeks, my inlaws were no longer sharing our home.

I was excited for my child to begin his new journey at school, but I worried how he would cope with so many new experiences.

I was happy for my inlaws to have a place of their own, opportunites to meet new friends, and learn new things. Would they be happy?

Letting go butterflies. Hoping & trusting I've done what I should, in the time I'd been given. Expecting the best, but preparing for the worst. Very mixed emotions.

A Bad Day?

I understand that anyone can have a bad, even doctors. But when it comes to one of MY kids, it better not happen in my presence.

Elisabeth went for another back injection yesterday. Michael went with her. I had taken Hilary to school, which on a good day, I can drive it in 37 minutes. It was not a good day. Snow was blowing, and the roads were terrible. I arrived home 93 minutes after I'd left.

After her injection, Elisabeth was in a LOT of pain. With the particular meds that were used, she shouldn't have had any pain. She cried for 2 hours in recovery. The doctor doesn't usually come back to see patients, but two different nurses made requests that he do so.

I understand that he has a schedule to keep and that he is busy, but I don't understand his behavior. He appeared very agitated for having to see her. How much time did he save by snatching the juice from her hand as she was taking a drink? Was jerking her from a reclining position to sitting necessary? What did the few seconds it would take for him to wait for her to set the juice down and sit up on her own really cost him? Was he truly trying to save time?

Maybe this man was really dealing with his own pride. At our first meeting, he came off as very arrogant. He was certain of Elisabeth's diagnosis. We were hopeful in light of the confidence he exhibited, after reviewing her medical records. But now I can't help but wonder if he was feeling a bit like a failure when the injection seemed to go awry. Maybe his diagnosis had been wrong. Elisabeth's pain was making him look bad, and he didn't like that. The recovery room was filled with other patients of his. Several people, also waiting in recovery, came by to ask if Elisabeth was ok. They could tell it wasn't going well. Strangers cared and showed concern, why didn't this doctor?

To fix the problem, he filled a syringe with a numbing agent and re-injected her back. I think he over medicated her, as she became very sick afterwards.

It's a good thing I wasn't there. I would have been like a mama bear attacking anyone who harmed her baby cub. As it is, this doctor will get an earful at her next appointment. And maybe more.

Secrets

I grew up with an older sister who couldn't keep a secret. If Carolyn knew a secret, we were lucky if it lasted a few hours. I'm not sure why, but asking her not to tell, was like putting a plate of cookies before a sweet-toothed child and asking her not to touch or taste them. Whisper a secret into her ear, and it would come spilling out her lips.

I, on the other hand, loved keeping secrets. I was the best secret keeper I knew. Even my parents trusted me with secrets. Sometimes I knew of trips we would take before anyone else. I'd know what my dad was getting for his birthday. Maybe I felt special that someone trusted me with their secret-so much so, that I wouldn't do anything to lose that entrusted place.

The older I become, it is harder to keep a secret. I can still keep them, but I want everyone to know that "I" have a secret that I'm keeping. I'll announce that I have a secret. If you have read my blog for awhile, you probably remember another time when I shared that I had a surprise secret but couldn't tell what it was. But I had no problem saying I had a secret. And I did really enjoy when it was no longer a secret and I could share it openly.

So, I know a secret. I'm dying to say something, but I won't. And sometime in the near future, I will mention this post and release the secret. I will enjoy every minute of it. For now, I delight in knowing that I know a secret and in being able to say I have a secret.

Update

For those who asked, no I wasn't in the hospital. I went for a CT scan (those pesky sinus infections) and I was required to wear an I.D. bracelet. Did they think I'd forget my name, or have a medical emergency while having the scan and they needed to know I was allergic to morphine? I kept forgetting to cut it off and actually wore it until the next day. Like I said, they are comfy.

Michael drank coffee every day for an entire week. Then just as quickly as he began, he gave it up. Diet Pepsi is once again his morning beverage.

Last Saturday, we went out to dinner to celebrate Elisabeth's 21st birthday. I wanted to look nice and was digging through my jewelry box trying to find a pair of dangly earrings. (Somehow I thought they might make me look NOT like the mom of a 21year old. Forget the fact that Christina will be 27 in April.)

Sitting innocently, amongst my costume jewelry, were 2 earrings linked together. The rubies and diamonds glistened as lovely as ever. I scooped them up and hugged them tightly to my chest. Once they were lost, now they were found. (I was feeling foolish for the tears I'd cried.) Quickly, I adorned my ear lobes with these fine ornaments and joined my family in the car. I waited to share my find for later, as I didn't want to take anything away from El's birthday celebration. Afterall, 21 is the last big growing up birthday. The milestones after that are at ages 40, 50, etc. and the excitement just isn't the same.

Happy 21st Elisabeth

A little girl, who loved ribbons and bows and is still as cute as ever, turned 21. As I began to write a Happy Birthday Post, I found myself writing much of what I wrote for her 20th, so thought I'd cut and paste a part of that here.

It's hard to believe you've closed the door to your teen years. What happened to my little Gerber baby with the infectious smile?
Very quickly, that baby turned into a laughing, forever-singing toddler. You loved singing and entertaining anyone who'd pay attention. There was no such thing as a stranger. You welcomed everyone into your world.

Remember how you'd play dress-up for hours and hours? Or making tea and crumpets with your kitchen set? Your golden brown hair, pulled up in crooked pigtails, would bounce as you "cooked." You'd talk and talk in your singsong voice as you'd offer freshly baked cookies.
I remember a girl in second grade who wanted to be a cheerleader. You went to cheer camp and performed at a high school basketball game. Two ladies in front of me saw you amidst the sea of girls and couldn't get over how cute you were. I wanted to say, "that's my girl!" But before I could you waved and curtsied my direction and they thought you were waving to them and they waved back. You brought out the best in others. It wasn't but 7 or 8 years later that you were in high school drawing the crowd to their feet.

It was hard to see you move out this year. I'm thankful that your residence is a mere 20 minutes away. I love that you come home for dinner several nights a week. You are still the same sweet, caring sister and daughter as before, but you are wiser and more mature. I didn't realize turning 21 would be such a transformation. You'll always be my little girl, even though you are all grown up.

This was taken on a cell phone and goes by very fast. I didn't quite capture the first couple of seconds. Hope you get the idea of my crazy kids antics.

Time Flies When You're Having Fun

Let's see if I can quit having so much fun and get back in the swing of things. Last week Christina was sick, so I picked Ethan up and kept him for a few days. And his big dog. I had hoped Ethan wouldn't get sick, but he did. Suffice it to say, I was busy.

Paper bracelets. What do you think? I've decided they are an ideal accessory. I could have every color of the rainbow, add any design to match or coordinate with every single outfit I own. No more struggling with hard to do clasps. They are comfortable to wear. I can go to be without ever removing it. I can even shower while wearing. When it's time to change, I cut it off and put on a new one. These have to be cheap. Just think, I'd never have to worry about losing or damaging them either.

How cool are hand painted nail designs? I absolutely love them! I haven't mastered the art myself, but I figure if I had the proper tools. It is impossible to paint in fine detail without a tiny brush.

I wouldn't try to cut a large piece of meat with a paring knife or use a meat cleaver to slice a tomato.

With the correct tools and proper training, I could paint nail designs. But that wouldn't make me an artist.

Too often, I don't value the talents I have. I want to do or be something never intended for me. It is difficult to accept our weaknesses and sometimes even our strengths.

Growing up, I'd hear my mom telling others about us kids. She'd speak of our gifts and talents. The things she'd brag to others about me didn't seem that big of a deal because they came easy to me. I wanted to be like my sister. Mom would talk about her dancing ability, her social skills-things that didn't come naturally to me. They were a challenge for me, so they seemed like better gifts to have. I didn't realize she felt the same way and didn't see her talents as something special or unique to her. She wanted what I had.

Today's challenge: To appreciate the giftings of others and encourage them to seek after what they are passionate about. I want to express to them how valuable their particular gifting and talents are and how much I (and others) need them. But I will also value and appreciate everything that God has placed within me and try to use my talents and gifts for His glory.

Somebody is a good brownie baker/server

Making The World A Better Place

Lori at View From Our Porch gave me this award. Lori truly does make a difference in the lives of so many. Everyone needs to feel valued and special.

The rules are to link to Ukok's place, then pick 5 other bloggers to give this award to. I am giving it to everyone on my Links list, as each one of you have made a difference in my life. Please pass it along.

Pet Peeve

Pet Peeve: Cruising along the highway, doing the speed limit, when all of the sudden nothing but brake lights ahead. I slow down to under the speed limit. I wonder what could be causing the slow down. Up ahead, on the side of the road, is a patrol car. No lights, no accident, nothing. The car is just sitting there. Why is everyone braking? If these cars aren't speeding why the need to slow down? Guilt is my guess. They must be regular speeders who watch for police cars. I have never feared or felt guilty seeing a police or patrol car. My dad drove one.

Dad emailed me the rest of his 1970 Christmas letter. I wanted to share another portion here. Dad was 31 at the time, mom 30, I was 8. My siblings were ages 6, 9, and 11.

"Kathleen says the time has come for me to reveal what I've been up to the past year. Life seems to revolve around my work schedule, which can be day shift, night shift, and a combination of the two. I have been working on the road as a patrolman for the past 16 months. I never dreamed that I would ever get to work on the road. I always wanted to be a policeman, but when I didn't grow tall enough to meet the height requirements, I gave up the idea. Now, here I am working along with the six-footers. I may be the smallest patrolman on the highway patrol, but there are a few others not much bigger. We peewees are known as the mini-patrol.
Sometimes, I wonder why I ever left the cool/warm, depending
on the season, comfort of the radio room. While sitting
overlooking the Salt River Canyon, watching the river below,
and inhaling the cool, pine scented air, I am grateful for
having been liberated from the four walls. On winter nights,
while carrying an injured or dead person out of a canyon, I
wonder why I'm not back in that nice comfortable radio room,
sipping a cup of coffee between radio calls.

People tend to make my job interesting. You meet the good
and the bad. You meet them at their worst and their
best. You get to help them when they need help the most. The
disabled motorist is glad to see you, but the violator wishes you
were in some other county. I could go on about my job as I find it
fascinating, but I'm going to leave it here."

For anyone who might be a guilty-braker, thought it would be fun to read the thoughts of a patrolman.

I laughed at the next part of dad's letter:

"Being church treasurer keeps me busy a couple evenings per
month. I sometimes wonder how I ever managed to acquire the
job. Bookkeeping never was high on my list of aptitudes. The
congregation certainly must have a lot of faith."

Dad wrote more, but I figure that is enough for one post. It brought back such fond memories of my dad. He did mention special training he'd been doing for upcoming demonstrations. I don't recall what the commotion was about, but do remember the extra protective gear he had to wear at that time. It was a time of demonstrations turning into riots and complete chaos. Seeing my dad in his uniform, I saw the strong protector. I felt safe, knowing my dad was watching out for us.

Dad is retired now. He no longer wears a uniform, protective gear, or carries a gun. But he continues to be a strong protector of our family and others. His weapons are not visible, except when he's on his knees.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY DAD!

Sometimes It Can't Be Fixed

Not everything broken can be fixed. A lost treasure isn't always found. Ask me how I know.

Before Christmas, I embarrassed myself. Christopher was home and we went out shopping. As we passed my favorite jewelry store, I showed him the bracelet that I wasn't getting. He said, "ma, you don't know that." I assured him that his dad couldn't pull off a suprise like that. I had been hinting how much I wanted the bracelet. No, I wasn't hinting, I was practically begging. I told him about it in detail. I pulled it up on the internet to let him see exactly what I wanted. I even found some cheaper alternatives if he just couldn't swing this one. He didn't pay much attention. Christopher tried to encourage me that surely if it was that important, there was a good chance his dad bought it. No, I was confident that I knew him better. Michael would have asked what store it was at, or if I really wanted it, before he went out. I'd know. Besides, 2 days earlier, he'd bought me a pair of exotic boots for Christmas and it would be way too much money to spend. (Yeah, I knew I was getting them.)

Imagine my humiliation when Christmas morning, Christopher handed me a slender gift box from his dad that looked the perfect size for a bracelet. "Hmm...I wonder what this could be? Oh, but surely not. There is no way dad could possibly have surprised you. Wow, do you feel a little silly for the way you carried on the other day?" He continued laughing and teasing me. And he'd been correct. Michael had truly surprised me.


The whole situation reminded me of a Valentine's Day not too long ago. I posted about my disappointment at not receiving a coveted pair of diamond & ruby earrings. Michael surprised me. He gave them to me for my birthday. He has become unimaginably extravagant in giving to me.

Last week, while painting, I took my bracelet off and shoved it in my pocket so as not to get paint on it. In doing so, I bent it backwards deeming it unrepairable according to the jeweler. During that same week, I took off the above mentioned earrings and set them on the coffee table. They are no where to be found. I fear they fell off the table and I inadvertently vaccuumed them up. I'm afraid they are hidden inside a trash bag located in a remote landfill, never to be found again. You would think that with something so valuable and important to me I wouldn't be so careless.

The jeweler agreed to replace my bracelet if I would purchase an extended waranty for an extra $38. My bracelet is brand new. I am not very hopeful of ever finding my earrings.

The Good News? God is not careless. He has already purchased an extended waranty for us: The guarantee of eternal life. I was careless with this gift of life. I experienced pain, loss, loneliness. My life was a broken mess. I was sure the damage I'd done was irrepairable. But it was not. God made it brand new. He can do it for you.

No matter how lost I might become beneath the cares of this life, He knows where I am. He can pluck me from the darkest, most hidden place.

Maybe you aren't in a dark place, but find somewhere along the path, you've lost your way. You can be a valued treasure in the hand of God, if you want. Your redemption is there for the asking.

I imagine the garbage man walking through the dump. He stoops down. He turns over a dirty, wet paper plate. He digs a bit through the coffee grounds and dog hair and pulls out an item. "I knew right where you were all along," he says. At home, he washes and cleans his newly found treasure. There before him is a sparkling pair of diamond/ruby earrings-something of great value to him.

Every broken life can be fixed. Every lost person can be found.