God’s Flash Mob

Many of us have enjoyed the YouTube postings of an activity called a “flash mob”. Some of the videos show a group of people, often in a mall, suddenly singing a song.  The expressions on the faces of the unsuspecting shoppers are a mix of bewilderment, shock, and even joy.

Following the performance, the shopping audience often claps as the singing group disperses. Many times those who witnessed the activity continue to comment or reflect on what they observed and heard.

Although our culture has experienced this for only seven or eight years, the Lord of the universe conducted His own “flash mob” over two thousand years ago.

In the Gospel according to Luke we see:

⁸In the same region there were some shepherds staying out in the fields and keeping watch over their flock by night. ⁹And an angel of the Lord suddenly stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them; and they were terribly frightened. ¹⁰But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid; for behold, I bring you good news of great joy which will be for all the people; ¹¹for today in the city of David there has been born for you a Savior, who is Christ the Lord. ¹²“This will be a sign for you: you will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.” ¹³And suddenly there appeared with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God and saying, ¹⁴ “Glory to God in the highest, And on earth peace among men with whom He is pleased.” Luke 2:8-14 ( NASB )

 In what the bible teaches to be the first public birth announcement of the Messiah/Savior, God sends an angel declaring the good news (gospel) of Jesus to a group of shepherds. In addition, this message included instructions on how to find this baby. And if that were not amazing enough, God’s flash mob of angels appear and begin saying, “Glory to God in the highest, And on earth peace among men with whom He is pleased.”

I try to imagine being a shepherd on duty that night and experiencing this explosion of sight and sound. How would I react? I hope it would be like the shepherds.

 ¹⁵When the angels had gone away from them into heaven, the shepherds began saying to one another, “Let us go straight to Bethlehem then, and see this thing that has happened which the Lord has made known to us.” ¹⁶So they came in a hurry and found their way to Mary and Joseph, and the baby as He lay in the manger. ¹⁷When they had seen this, they made known the statement which had been told them about this Child. ¹⁸And all who heard it wondered at the things which were told them by the shepherds. ¹⁹But Mary treasured all these things, pondering them in her heart. ²⁰The shepherds went back, glorifying and praising God for all that they had heard and seen, just as had been told them. Luke 2:15-20 ( NASB )

May you find yourself “glorifying and praising God” for His love and grace. In so doing, make known the good news of the baby who became the Savior.

 

Today’s the Day…?

According to some, Saturday, May 21, is Rapture Day. The reaction to this announcement has been amazing as thousands have accepted an individual’s incorrect interpretation of Scripture claiming to know the exact day.  According to Harold Camping, the Rapture will take place on that date at 6:00 PM Eastern Time. He claims that he has researched the bible and this is what he has found through mathematical formulas. In addition, he states that the world will end five months later on October 21, 2011.

The Rapture is an end-time teaching that is primarily found in 1 Thessalonians 4:13-18. The word “rapture” is not found in the English translations. Most editions, in verse seventeen, have translated the Greek, harpagēsometha, into, “we shall be caught up”, or “taken away”.  The context deals with the Lord’s return to take away believers to heaven. The expression,  “Rapture”, is an English word derived from the Latin rapiō which basically means “to catch up”. The Latin translation uses that word. So those who use the word “rapture” are technically correct to do so.

Scripture is vague as to the time when this shall happen. There have been many who have tried to predict the exact date and have failed. Even Mr Camping’s first attempt failed. Most bible scholars challenge Mr Camping by referring to Jesus’ words that no one would know the “day”.  Mr Camping dismisses those who use that verse and even the verse itself by claiming it means something else. Sadly, He applies a mixture of  biblical stories and out of context teaching to come to his conclusions.

Most biblically conservative preachers teach that Jesus will return for His church. The bible defines the church as individuals who have repented of their sin, believed that Jesus is the Son of God, placed their faith in Jesus to cleanse them of sin because of what he did on the cross, and have committed their life to Him as Lord. One day Jesus will come for us. What He tells us is that we should live every day with that expectation by loving God and our neighbor. We do this through loving actions that reach out to a broken world and sharing the message of good news that Jesus died for them.

The Lord could return before I have time to post this blog or He could return on May 21 or any time He chooses. In this electronic age, the false message of setting a rapture date can be disseminated throughout the world. Consequently, unbelievers who have scoffed at the previous incorrect times will potentially continue to do so on May 22 or October 22. The tragedy is they will also mock our true message of salvation through Jesus.

 

Get Off That High

I found myself on a high. 

For those of you who know my past please do not panic. I haven’t reverted to some old ways. I was high. High diabetes, high weight, and high blood pressure. Something needed to be done!

So I rejoined my gym. I remember going years ago and feeling the euphoria from working out.  There’s this sense of satisfaction in doing an exercise routine, feeling the burn, and knowing this is good for you.  Alas, it had been many years since then and now it was critical I did something like that again.

I have an exercise bike and some weights at home and I would use them from time to time but with little consistency. Now that’s a word! Consistency.  So I thought by starting up my gym membership again I would be motivated (another good word) to get with the program of getting off my highs.

At the gym.  Wow, things have changed. I walked around and scoped out the machines I would do on this back-to-workout experience. I walked up to a treadmill. I am at the point in my life that I do not worry about trying to impress anyone at the gym. They all look at me as their old, overweight, grandpa anyway. So as the guy on one side and girl on the other were running really fast on their treadmill, I got up on mine.  I was amazed by all the electronics and buttons. In scanning the screen I saw a “quick start” button. Now to me that means one can quickly start a workout and not have to read all the instructions. (Who needs those pesky notes anyway?)

Maybe I do. Suddenly the treadmill began to move and I was forced to begin a fairly “quick” pace.  It did not take long for me to realize that I was losing the race that was on the screen.  As I said I’m not trying to impress anyone, yet I’m also not trying to make a fool of myself either.

You know that feeling of panic that hits you when you feel that something bad is going to happen and you have no way of controlling the situation? Well, I had that feeling big time.  I remembered all those times I laughed as I watched America’s Funnest Videos where the guy falls and gets thrown by the treadmill (maybe I should have been working out instead of sitting on a couch watching TV).  I suddenly felt that if I did not do something I would be starring on my own reality show! 

Those machines have a big red “STOP” button but I did not want to hit that because by then my legs were so out of control I was afraid would lunge forward and end up on the floor in front of the machine.  “Keep looking,” I told myself.  ”There must be a ‘slow’ button somewhere on the console.”

Found it!  Press, press, press, press! Finally to a rate that was manageable.  Wow - what a workout! Perspiring, legs feeling the burn, heart beating fast.  How long have I been on this thing? 

Four and a half minutes. 

I assure you the euphoria I spoke about earlier wasn’t there. The truth hit home. This will take some time to make the routine work. So, I did a few other machines and did not overdo it.  I put my jacket on and walked outside. All the time wondering if I would make it to the truck before my legs gave out.  

Enough for one day. But it’s the first day….. of many to come.

Often when we begin a new routine with God, be it devotions or a ministry, things can feel really weird.  The best thing to do is to determine that one day will turn into two, then three, and so forth.  Let’s work at it with consistency and motivation!

 

Racoons in the Attic

No, the title of this blog does not refer to my mental condition, then again……
I had been hearing something in the attic for some time. We have had a few battles with mice and I thought it was just more of the same. I told myself I needed to put some traps up there. However, I would just forget about it.
The sound from the ceiling got louder. Maybe it’s squirles. I would get a broom and tap on the ceiling as a way to bother whatever it was. I needed to do something more,yet found myself putting it off again. It got so bad that I finally purchased some rodent poison cakes.

Left them in the truck.
My oldest son, Josh, was over and while he was speaking with Maggie he heard what we had been hearing. “That’s probably a racoon” he said. I thought that was a funny idea, at the time. He proceeded to climb into the attic. (That’s what sons and son-in-laws are for, right?) Then I heard him say, “I just saw it and touched it.” He chased it out of the attic through a large vent. Josh had closed the hallway opening to the attic and I was really glad since I did not feel like chasing a racoon throughout the house.
Josh decided to climb out on the roof to fix the hole in the vent. He shouted, “It’s out here”. Wow! I was in for a surprise. The racoon was on the roof and he was huge.

Then the fun really started.
I was trying to prod the thing with my trusty broom handle, Charlie, our dog, was barking as loud as a small dog can, and the racoon was panicking.
Then the racoon turned toward me. You know those times in your life when you ask yourself, “what am I doing?” I quickly, but in a very manly way, turned and jumped as this animal, (that now took on the appearance of the T-Rex in Jurassic Park) ran off the roof and down the steps of the deck with Charlie close behind. The size difference was amazing. Here’s this massive racoon being chased by a little fur ball of a dog.
The racoon struggled to climb the fence in the back yard but soon was over it into a tree and then out of sight.

That was exciting but I don’t want to repeat the experience.  Josh told me to get some new heavy-duty screen to cover the vents so “Rocky”, yes I named him, or his friends could not return.

How many of us have things rattling around in our life that we notice but just seem to dismiss?  So we do the broomstick thing and tell ourself we need to do something more to rid ourself of this yet we put it off.

The new year is a great opportunity for us to get rid of those pesky problems in our life.

What are your raccoons in the attic?

 

A Thanksgiving Poem

This must be the season for poems. My last blog was a post of a poem Maggie wrote. This one is my attempt.

It is the week of Thanksgiving and here in my house  

My laptop stays on 

Now where’s my remote mouse?

*

Websites are bookmarked

For all the great sales

Wait! Another item just showed up on email.

*

With “Black Friday” looming ahead

I will stay online

Even in my bed.

*

I’ve applied for credit in all the right stores.

The interest is high

But that’s the price in winning shopping wars.

*

On to Macy’s, to Target, and Toy’s R Us

This is just so easy

What’s all the fuss?

*

Lists are growing longer for each perfect gift.

They better love this,

If you get my drift.

*

I’m going to all this trouble to do the giving thing.

Ah, there it is!

The most “precious” ring.

*

What a great week to celebrate commerce

Even with the recession

I hope it won’t get worse.

*

I immerse myself in the culture of stuff.

With a click here and submit there

Have I purchased enough?

*

No! I’ll keep it up regardless of debt.

A little more…. even for me,

I have little regret.

*

But there is a voice that speaks, lovingly, to my heart

“Don’t get captured

By what’s in your cart.”

*

“The season can be one of giving, but in much more simple ways.

You do not have to go overboard,

Get out of the maze.”

*

“Remember this week should be a time of thanksgiving

For family, friends, and blessings

And the joy of living.”

*

“The most perfect gift has come to this sinful earth

Don’t think you can top it

Jesus is the One of worth.”

*

“The price I paid for your sin was very high

It was for you

Jesus had to die.”

*

“It wasn’t on credit that I sent my Son

All is paid in full

It is finished, the purchase is done.”

*

Oh, Lord, You’re right, I’ve fallen for the ploy

To think that possessions

Could really give joy.

*

May we this week, thank God for all

Whatever we have

Whether great or small.

*

Yet, it is His gift that lasts eternally

The gift of grace and forgiveness

Continues, for us, unceasingly.

 

A Poem for Veterans

My wife, Maggie, is an amazing woman. She recently wrote and submitted a poem that was published. My wife, the published poet! I am really proud of her.

 Maggie at a veteran’s memorial in Alabama. Her father, Charles A. Helton, WWII vet, Army Air Corps, is listed there.

Although Veteran’s Day was last week, we can never thank them enough. Here is her poem:

In Honor of the Honorable

A most honorable profession

To have in your possession;

To you, a magnificent obsession

To serve.

We honor you today

For the courage you’ve displayed

To protect and serve and save

This country.

Mere words cannot express

How your service it has blessed;

And allows Americans to rest

Without fear.

For sacrifices you have made

So that our children safely play

In freedom from the dismay

Of tyranny.

For this liberty is not free,

And that you were willing to fight for me

My unending gratitude will be

Forever yours.

God grant you peace

For keeping the peace.

May our people never cease

To remember.

With dedication you fought for the cause,

So now we proudly take pause

Please accept in appreciative awe —

Our tribute.

— Maggie Sims

 

A Veteran

On this Veterans Day I would like to share a brief history of my military experience.

I joined the Air Force in the summer of 1971.  My motivation was more self-centered than patriotic. I wanted to be trained in electronics.  Although I realized the Viet Nam war was still going on, I really did not think I would be sent into a war zone. I also was not a follower of the Lord Jesus at that time and was very confused about my life and future.

I was sent to boot camp at Lackland Air Force Base in San Antonio, Texas in August. Let me repeat…. TEXAS….IN AUGUST! However, except for the heat, the physical part was less intense than high school wrestling. I was “chosen” to lead Second Squad through this experience.  My job as squad leader was to ensure everyone else was doing their assignments and keeping their area clean and organized.  Believe it or not, for those who know me well, I did a pretty good job at that. God had a plan.

Toward the end of boot camp I received my AFSC (Air Force Specialty Code), 463XX.  I would go to Lowry AFB in Denver, Colorado, for technical training in Nuclear Weapons.  Now this was unexpected.  All that electronic training I thought I could translate into the civilian world suddenly evaporated. I could not remember one employment ad requesting those who did that kind of work.  Yet, God had a plan for me.

There was a delay in the start of my next class and so I had to stay at Lackland.  During that time I saw a posting about trying out for the “PJ’s” or maroon berets. Not knowing what that was and being bored with waiting, I checked it out. I discovered that PJ’s are “pararescue jumpers” who are trained as medical specialists and inserted into areas to rescue downed pilots. ( In the “Blackhawk Down” story Sgt. Tim Wilkinson was an Air Force PJ who received the Air Force Cross for heroism during that battle).  Their training is comparable to Army Rangers and Navy SEAL’s.  Although I was at my peak physical condition I could not even pass the initial steps.  This was humbling for me and the beginning of my maturity in admiring those who serve our nation in some amazing, and dangerous, jobs.

My six month training course at Lowry was interesting and taught me much about conventional and nuclear weapons. Since I was in the munitions field I also met some guys who were in training for Southeast Asia. Many would deploy to be bomb loaders for the F-4’s and B-52’s.  One friend had volunteered to be a gunner on a gunship. Today, I still marvel at that decision due to the short life expectancy of that job in combat.

My first duty station was Tyndall, AFB, in Panama City, Florida. I know, I know, some people just have to sacrifice so others may party.  Tyndall was a training base where we prepared special rockets that pilots fired at airborne targets. Instead of a nuclear warhead these weapons had a tracking warhead to indicate a hit or miss. I always wondered just how far can you miss with a nuclear weapon and still be good enough?  One of my jobs was to calibrate the warhead and to place an explosive charge in the rocket casing.  The Mexican government had complained that the spent rockets were washing up on the east Mexican coast. Once the rocket propellant had burned out, the casing was like an old glass coke bottle floating in the water. My job was to use C4 (a plastic explosive), primacord (detonating cord), and a blasting cap connected to a fuse that would blow a hole in the casing and thus allow it to sink. This was a lot of fun! (Those who know of my childhood and my experiments with Cherry Bombs, M 80’s and bottle rockets can understand why).

A friend of mine who was a bomb loader was sent TDY (temporary duty) to Viet Nam.  While there, his base came under a mortar attack from the VC. He saw some of his crew killed.  When he returned he was never the same. I really appreciate him and those who go into the hot zones and come out changed, often negatively.

It was at Tyndall that my supervisors instructed me to fill out a “dream sheet” indicating where I would like to serve overseas since most in my career field did so.  I put in as many bases in Europe as I could, dreaming that it would be a wonderful experience.

I received orders for Korea! I came to find out that my choices were all in my “dreams.”

But God had a plan for me.

Korea was one of the most interesting experiences of my life. I arrived during the monsoon season where it rained everyday and night.  This was accompanied with a host of insects, small and large, that welcomed me each night as I tried to sleep. The winters were cold and snowy with that November having over fifty inches of snow.

 During the Yom Kipper War of 1973, between Israel and Egypt/Syria, US forces were put on alert world-wide due to the threat that the Soviet Union was mobilizing to enter the conflict.  These were some anxious moments with the alert siren going off many times. When one of our alert F-4 fighter jets accidentally caught fire, causing its conventional ammunition to fire, I thought my plan to miss combat by being in the Air Force had made a terrible turn. 

God still had a plan for me.

It was in Korea that the Lord got my attention through a number of events. One of which I have shared on many occasions with churches and family members.

God used a day in which I was out walking on a path in the middle of a rice field. The Lord brought a Korean pastor to intersect my path and life.  I realized that day I could not get away from God and He would reach me wherever I was.  Soon afterwards, I committed my life to Jesus Christ as Lord.

Returning to the US, I was assigned to Barksdale, AFB, in Bossier City, Louisiana.  There I would be a crew chief continuing to work on the weapons of mass destruction.  It was a challenge to consider that the warheads on the bombs and reentry vehicles I was responsible for could potentially kill millions of people.  I would pray that we would never use them yet I knew their presence, from a geo-political perspective, ensured my right to worship and speak of God freely.

I returned to civilian life in 1976 with my own “war” stories to share and some never to share. I had worked on the most powerful weapons known to man. Yet God’s power is greater. His power to transform a sinner like me into someone He would use still astounds me.

It was an honor for me to serve our nation. I thank all those who are veterans today.

I also thank everyone who has expressed appreciation for all who serve or are serving.

I especially thank my Lord and Savior, Jesus, for using this life experience to bring me to Himself, to forgive me, and give me a new life.

 

Sprinkler Fatigue

When I arrived at the church early this Monday morning I looked to see  how the sprinklers were doing. Much to my chagrin I saw no sprinklers operating. I did see an area where water was bubbling up and saturating the ground.  Another broken sprinkler line!

I stood there in near disbelief at the sight that translated to another project fixing the system. (I’m sure you noticed the bold/italicized words). Many people have worked hours on this watering system.  Just about the time we think it is taken care of, something else breaks. I feel that we are constantly replacing a sprinkler head or having to dig and replace a section of pipe.  To be honest as I looked at that water-soaked area of ground I wasn’t quite sure what I wanted to do.  Of course I shut off the water so we would not waste any more but in so doing I thought to myself, “I don’t care.” 

I was, and am, experiencing what landscaping psychologists call “sprinkler fatigue”.  It is a common malady that affects many yard workers this late in the season. Thoughts of ,”We will have a freeze soon so we need to turn off the system anyway” to “Who cares if the grass dies,” are common expressions of this disorder.

The reality is that it needs to be done. So I’m planning and prioritizing this project that I feel I don’t have time to do, yet it must be done.

Do you sometimes feel that way about your life.  One thing after another happens. Just when you take care of one area you see another that needs adjusting and often repairing. It may be a relationship or personal finances or “whatever”.   We continue to check our spiritual walk with the Lord and see deficiencies that need our attention. But after a while we just get life fatigue and either delay it or neglect it completely.

The truth is that the sprinkler cannot fix itself and we cannot expect our problems to repair themselves. We need to pray, plan, and prioritize how we will approach the need and just do it.  We need to seek the Lord and His word about the issue and obey Him.  We may need to involve someone else as a counselor or accountability partner to assist us in dealing with the situation.

 What we do not need to do is to hope it goes away. Believe me, it doesn’t.

 

Identification Please

“May I see a form of ID?”

Our nation is debating types of identification for its citizens and its guests (welcomed or not). The “discussion” has, at times, been intense.  The concept is that an ID verifies citizenship. It also confirms that I am who I say I am. 

For most individuals their driver’s license is that official document.

Recently I was making a purchase at a store and in anticipation of the cashier asking for my ID, I opened my wallet to produce my license.  “Not there” I thought. I continued to search. “Not there either,” my brain voice shouted. I began to feel that sense of panic that arises when you desperately hunt for something important that apparently is not there. It is funny/strange you continue to look in the same place for something, even after four or five efforts, as if it will miraculously appear.

The cashier did not ask for said document but that did not matter now. Something else occupied my mind. I even think I left one of my purchases on the check out carousel. As I walked out, I was consumed with the thought, “Where is my ID?”

I wondered whether I dropped it somewhere in the truck or in my house. Searched the truck, not there!  The house? Not there either. Of course it was a Friday… late Friday afternoon. Why do these thing happen on a Friday? One cannot get a temporary license on Saturday or Sunday. How do you begin the process anyway?

Great!!  I am out driving without my official document of who I am and the authorization to drive. Where is my identification?

Then I remembered that the previous week I had surgery. In preparation for in processing, instead of taking my wallet,  I had only taken my ID and health card with me. I called Maggie, my wife, and left a message asking her if I might have left it in her car when we went to the surgery center. I missed her return call but when I checked the voice mail she said she still had it from the day of the surgery… the previous week!.

Oops!! I had been out and about with no ID and, up till then, no one knew or cared. Not even me.

Those with whom I am aquainted know me. However, person “X” out there has no clue who I am. That’s why I’m required to show some ID in certain settings.

A number of years ago I heard someone speak on the subject of a believer’s identity in Christ. They stated that because of Jesus’ death on the cross and resurrection the benefits of a relationship with Jesus assure us of forgiveness and purpose. However, our identity should also express to the world that relationship. Every day we should produce our spiritual ID to others through our behavior. Since our identity is in Christ, His life should be lived through us. That is a challenging truth.

 So often, we live with little or no demonstration of the reality of God. Many times it is due to our lack of compassion or justice. Do we live selfishly or for the glory and honor of God?

The world is crying out to see the real Jesus in the lives of authentic believers. They may not always verbalize it but they are, in effect, asking, “May I see a form of ID?”

 

Bebe Joyce Sims (1925-1999)

She was born in Alabama the same year The Great Gatsby, by F. Scott Fitzgerald was published. At the age of two my mother lost her father.  Her mother, my grandmother, began the challenging life of being a single parent just two years before the Great Depression. I recall some of Mammaw’s stories of what it was like for her and her two girls to experience the struggle of day-to-day living. There were times when they did not know what they would eat yet God provided through friends and neighbors. Any new clothes my mother wore generally came as a hand-me-down from her older sister, Sissy. It is difficult to imagine how hard the times were back then. Today we complain about having “nothing to wear” as we search through packed closets. We also mumble that there’s “nothing to eat” as we gaze into our full pantries. For little Bebe and family, hard times was a reality. 

 She was sixteen when Pearl Harbor was bombed. She related the experience of that Sunday evening when everyone gathered around the radio listening intently to the news broadcast. She said she wasn’t sure what it would mean for her or our nation. However, the reality of the war effort hit home with the rationing. She told me of the ration books and tokens that were issued for essential items such as sugar, meat and nylons (an important item for young ladies).

 As a cheerleader at Woodlawn High School in Birmingham, she saw young men just two years older than her who had played on the football team volunteer and get shipped off to battle. One time, as she told a story of one boy who would not come back, her eyes became teary and looked out the window as if to catch one last glimpse.

 Graduation found her leaving home to attend nursing school in Texas. There she would be trained in the medical field by caring for soldiers who had been maimed and burned as they fought for our country. She chose surgery as her area of specialty.

 Returning to Alabama she married Clovis Malowey Sims. A couple of years later my older sister, Donna, was born.  Then in 1952 I came into the world (she had no idea what was in store for her).   My childhood memories are pretty much the same as many others. They are filled with the usual love and attention as well as some definitely deserved spankings. Growing up I heard the “brush your teeth” to “you’re going to put someone’s eye out” admonitions. While I prefer not to reflect on the “belt to the bottom” stories, and there were many, I do recall the wonderful vacations and holidays.  A number of years later my sister, Sandra, entered life.  Donna and I still joke about how Mom let the “new kid on the block” get away with far more that us older ones. But we knew Mom loved us all.

 The description, “Steel Magnolia” was apropos for Mom. This was never more apparent than in 1971 (but sadly it was not apparent to me until years later).  In April Sissy’s husband, Ray, died from a heart attack.  Uncle Ray was a World War II vet who received the Purple Heart while serving in the Navy in the Pacific.  He had such a love for life.  Growing up, Mom, Dad, Sissy, and Ray were fun to watch as they played board games and interacted with each other. Ray’s death was so unexpected; it must have hurt Mom so much. Then one month later Mammaw died from cancer that she had battled for years.  Mom had cared for her all that time and still worked in nursing.  That summer my sister Donna got married and moved off.  Then I joined the Air Force a month later. I look back at the amount of loss mom experienced and yet she stayed the strong, loving woman I had always known.  Years later dad’s drinking became so bad mom had to leave for her own protection. She did not divorce him and came back to care for him before he died.

 One tough lady, my Mom.

She was such a giving person. Christmases were always “over the top” especially when it came to the grandkids. Ah grandchildren. My son, Josh, was her first. She was such a help to Maggie following his birth. I’ll never forget her holding him and looking into his eyes. Of course, she loved all her grandchildren. Donna”s kids treated mom with so much love when she moved in. Mom had such a tender heart for Matt. Amy still has a special blanket Mom used.

I am sure that all these experiences shaped her to be the independent woman we knew her to be. That is why the stroke hit her and us so hard. It took away that freedom. She became dependant on others, mainly my two sisters. She lived with Donna for a while, after experiencing the loss of mobility and communication. 

 Mom died at my sister’s home in November of 1999. A couple of hours before she passed away I sat by her bed and stroked her hair telling her she had lived a good life for the Lord and how much I, and we, loved her.

 It is hard to sum up the influence of my mom in a single blog. She deserves far more. Because of her life I have life. Because of her prayers I belong to God. Because of her faith I will see her one day in heaven. 

I love you, Mom! Happy Mother’s Day!!