God Knew

When I lived in Austin, I attended Great Hills Baptist Church, and my Sunday School class planned a Christmas party in a nice apartment complex's party room. I almost didn't go. I tend to slide into a recluse mode if I'm not careful, and I was going through something difficult at the time, and it zapped every reason for me to attend a party. But I knew somebody was making the effort to do something for us outside the classroom, so I forced myself to dress up and go.

About twenty-five women showed up, and someone had even invited a speaker to present a devotion or something. We all ate and then gathered around a fireplace to hear something about the Christmas story or pertaining to the season, we assumed. I can't even remember the speaker's name, but she started with telling us that this seemed an odd subject for Christmas time, but the Lord kept leading her  to talk about divorce.

The topic of divorce for a Christmas party?

It hit me like a ton of bricks. I looked around. No one knew that my husband had asked me for a divorce only a couple of weeks ago. No one knew I was going back home for my first visit since the news broke. I was too embarrassed to admit it to this godly group of women. But I was even more ashamed to face my home church and community. They all seemed to know about my divorce before I did. I felt like I had failed everyone, and I was about to face one of the toughest weekends of my life.

I was sitting there shaking as the woman wrapped up her talk. I didn't want to lose control in front of these women, but I knew God had impressed upon her to talk about divorce for my sake, and I felt like I needed to tell her that. So I told her that I was the reason she was supposed to talk about divorce-- that I was getting a divorce, and I had been too embarrassed to tell anyone about it, but that I was going home and facing everyone for the first time, and it terrified me.

All of the women gathered around me and lifted me up in prayer. I was able to go back to my hometown and face everyone without falling apart. I even took my precious mother-in-law to the Christmas cantata at my home church. I was able to walk through my house-- the house I designed and decorated-- without breaking down. I just felt an overwhelming sense of sadness as the memories rushed in to meet me in every room.

I have no doubts that it was God's strength that got me through that weekend, thanks to the prayers of those women. But if it had been up to me, no one would've known, and I would've headed home in my own feeble strength and misery. But God knew what I needed, and like He's done countless times in my life, He picked me up and dusted me off and offered me his hand to walk me through it.

A Christmas Scavenger Hunt

Grandparents in our family were given strict orders concerning gifts for the grandchildren: NO TOYS. So I haven't been looking forward to my grandkids' faces not lighting up when they open up their packages of practical gifts like socks and jeans. But they're sweet kids. They won't throw a fit because we didn't get them a toy. They will say "Thank you, Nonna." And they'll go on about their playing. But I want it to be fun, so I created a Christmas scavenger hunt for them this morning.

As I post this, I'm waiting for them to arrive at our house for their weekly visit. They're leaving tomorrow to spend Christmas with their other grandparents, so they'll be receiving our gifts to them today. When they look under the tree and don't find any gifts for them, I'm going to pretend that we forgot where we hid them. The only clues to where they are will be envelopes on the tree-- one for Audrie and one for Finn. The clues in the cards said:

Dear Audrie & Finn,
     We are getting forgetful in our old age. We hid your Christmas presents and can't remember where we put them, but we wrote some clues so hopefully you can find them.

Finn Clue #1: Your gift is where you and PaPaw like to work.

[PaPaw's workbench in our garage]

Finn Clue #2: Your next gift is inside a secret place that we usually forget is there. It's hidden inside a soft, puffy piece of furniture and is a favorite place for you to pull out and see what's in there.

[The drawer in the couch]

Finn Clue #3: Your next gift is outside in plain view, but people probably think it's a part of our Christmas decorations. It's sitting on something that is built to move.

[One of the rocking chairs on the front porch]

Finn Clue #4: Your next gift is hidden outside under 

something blue that isn't the sky. 

It's covering something you love to play on.

[The tarp covers the ramp we built for my mother].

Finn Clue #5: Your next gift is hidden in a place hollowed out like a boat, but the water goes inside of it 

instead of the outside!

[Inside the bathtub]

Finn Clue #6: Your last gift is your stocking, which we had to hide to keep Snickers from getting into it. It's in a place that looks like a bookstore of new books inside our house, but remember to turn on the light so you can see it.

[In the bookshelves]

 Audrie Clue #1: Your first gift is under a place 

to rest one's head.

[Under a bed pillow]

 Audrie Clue #2: Your next gift is a place that is as hot and dry as the Sahara Desert. You wouldn't want to spend any time there!

[In the dryer]

Audrie Clue #3: Your next gift is hiding quietly in the newest piece of furniture in our house. 

 [In the baby's playpen]

Audrie Clue #4: Your next gift is outside the house on top of a place that's as cold as the North Pole!

[On the chest freezer in the garage]

Audrie Clue #4: Your next gift is outside, sitting beneath something that moves, but never touches the ground.

[Under the porch swing]

Audrie Clue #6: Your last gift is your stocking, which we had to hang it high to keep Snickers from getting into it. It used to be a dark place where light couldn't reach, but we spread it all out and with the flip of a switch can see everything now.

We remodeled the kitchen pantry in one day-- changing 3 deep shelves into 6 shallow shelves where we could see everything since the shallow shelves couldn't block the pantry ceiling light anymore. The stocking is hanging on one of three ceramic insulators I found in our attic. I'll show the before pictures in another post.

I didn't spend a whole lot of money on the grandkids, but I wrapped the gifts separately so it would spread out the scavenger hunt. In planning the scavenger hunt, which didn't take as long as I thought it would, I found that it was easiest for me to write down potential hiding places first, choosing easier places for Finn, who's five years younger than his sister. Then I wrote the clues that fit the hiding places and taped them to labels that I attached to each gift, in an order that revealed the next clue to find the next gift and so on. Most of these clues will be easy for them to figure out, but if I do any more hunts in the future, I'll probably make the riddles a little more challenging. 

I'm going to have Finn go first and as he finds a gift, I'll instruct him to leave it in the living room unopened until he finds all of them. Then Audrie will go find her gifts. That way we can all tag along with both of them if we want to. Then they can open their gifts together while we watch. 

Can't wait for them to get here!

P.S.H. (Post Scavenger Hunt) Not long after the kids arrived, Finn went to the bathroom. After a few minutes he came out so excited carrying the big gift that was hidden in the tub. I told him to go put it back-- that he had to find them in the right order. Then I asked him how he found it since it was hidden from sight behind the shower curtain, and he said, "I always look in the bathtub when I go to the bathroom." And Audrie said she did, too! We had a good laugh about it. I think I'm going to put something scary in the bathtub the next time they come to visit just to see if they really do look in the bathtub every time they go to the bathroom.

And they loved the scavenger hunt! Most of the clues were easy for them. Finn said the hardest clue for him was for the gift outside under the blue tarp. And Audrie had to think a while when it came to guessing the dryer. She checked the stove first, then the heater closet, and eventually thought of the dryer. We had a ball watching them. 

Hereditary

My grandfather, Albert M. Beights, is the tall, dark & handsome young man standing in the back behind his father. He was the oldest of eleven children.

I wonder how much, if any, of our ancestors' memories are imprinted on our DNA? Every so often a scene or a phrase or a moment in time gives me a deja vu feeling, like I have experienced that before, even when I'm in a new environment. I'm sure many of those moments are overlapping memories in my own life-- something that triggers a familiar feeling. But I'm not so sure that is the case for every instance of strange familiarity we come across in our lives.

I watched a television program on Ireland and Wales a while back, and I sat there transfixed looking at the scenes of the countryside. I have never been to Ireland, but something deep down inside felt a familiarity and a connection to what I was viewing. I feel the same when I hear Celtic music. Is it simply that I know some of my ancestors came from that area of the world? Or could it be a faint imprint of memories from hundreds and thousands of years of ancestors who came before me... the ones whose blood runs through my veins? I wonder about those people sometimes... those who gave me my eyes and skin color and freckles and moles, my hair color and the propensity for it to thin right above my forehead, my body shape and height, the weight's my problem, my straight top teeth and crooked bottom teeth. Who gave me strong legs and weak arms, my creative thoughts and stubborn will?

I can look to my most immediate ancestry-- my parents, and see the obvious. I have my fathers wide big toe and my mother's remaining smaller toes. I have my father's squared off fingers and big knuckles rather than my mother's feminine, tapered ones. I have my mother's eyes, but my father's eyelids. I look more like my mother in the face, but people say I walk like my father. I hope I've also inherited their kind, generous hearts, their ability to bloom where they're planted, and their incredible legacy of integrity, consistent faith and dedication to God, and loyalty to family and friends. But when you think about it, those are actually modeled traits, and I'm so thankful I was born into their family to witness their lives all these years. They were and are great role models for me to watch and pattern those traits in my own life.

I am a convergence of a hundred generations before me. It staggers my mind to think of that. How exciting it would be to meet everyone in my lineage. What interesting conversations we could have! I wonder if there is someone in my past that looked like me. I wonder from whom I inherited this tendency to talk or write more than I should...

I can't think only of the past without acknowledging the present and looking to the future. I need to be aware of what I'm passing on to my children, my grandchildren, and if the Lord tarries, to other descendants. Am I modeling good habits and a loving and generous spirit? Am I leaving an inheritance behind? Maybe not so much monetarily, sorry kids, but I hope the time God has given me here has not been in vain. I hope I've influenced and encouraged those around me in positive ways. I have regrets, though. I've wasted time. I've been lazy. I've failed in some major areas of my life. But I've experienced the opposite, too, and I'm learning to let the good memories, the things I've done right, and the times of productivity and hard work prevail over the regrets.

The adjective hereditary can describe tangible as well as intangible traits. I've actually heard some people boast or use as an excuse that they had their father's temper, or their family's bad financial habits, as if those were as unchangeable as their eye color. And these days much more time is focused on the physical and mental traits rather than the spiritual. But the latter is the only one with eternal benefits and consequences. And God's legacy to us? Heredity through adoption in which we can experience His love, blessings, favor, guidance, understanding of His Word, wisdom (if we ask for it), and eternal life through acceptance of His Son. The difference is that we had no choice in choosing our physical parentage and the color of our skin, but we can choose our spiritual parentage and the quality of our character.

Now at this point, I would also like to apologize to  my children for their inherited skin conditions, thinning hair, crooked teeth, nearsightedness, and colorblindness, but I hope they will also recognize and appreciate the love, the creativity, the humor, and especially the legacy of faith handed down to them.

Looking backward and forward in my lineage, I can say what a fortunate and blessed grand-daughter, daughter, sister, child of God, friend, wife, mother, aunt, and grandmother. What a joy!

Audrie's Eyes

There's nothing like the view from Audrie's eyes

     Eyes that don't miss a thing

Sometimes I have to get down at her eye level

     Which makes me think would limit me

But she sees things I stopped seeing long ago

     The stale becomes fresh; the old becomes new

The dark becomes light

     And I come out of hiding

Lonely walks out the door when she walks in

     The present and future push out the failures of the past

Possibilities replace ambivalence

     The standstill starts moving

Roots to the couch are severed as she takes my hand

     The cogs start turning to the constant tune of "Why?"

She doesn't just make a tent in the living room

     She decorates its interior

Rock hunting takes on a whole new adventure

     Spiders are given names

Bamboo sticks are swords or letters or drumsticks

     I find myself back in school and she is the teacher

She opens the curtains in the kitchen

     "So we don't miss the sunset, Nonna!"

Sunsets have never been more beautiful

     Than seeing them through Audrie's eyes

 *  *  *

I wrote this poem in June, 2005 when my first grandchild Audrie was four and a half years old.
The top photo was taken at Christmas, 2007

She is almost twelve years old today, and she still likes to make tents,
but with her brother now.

Saying Goodbye

One of the foundation characters of my mom's favorite soap, The Bold and the Beautiful, made a permanent exit from the show today. I haven't watched a soap opera in thirty years, but I couldn't help but catch snatches of it walking through the living room while Mom had the TV on. I found myself holding back sobs watching Susan Flannery, portraying the matriarch Stephanie Forrester, touchingly play out her last scenes reconciled with her arch-nemesis Brooke. I'm glad the writers ended it that way.

The storyline hit a little too close to home with my mother entering the difficult stages of ALS. I fluctuate between keeping a happy face on, which I sometimes confuse with denial, and watching my beautiful mother deteriorate daily. I pray that God helps me to be sensitive to her needs, trying to find a good balance between doing what I can for her versus not taking away her independence and need to feel needed, and that balance isn't always easy to find.

It bothers her tremendously to be so helpless and have to depend on others to help her do little things like help her out of the chair, help her dress, and cook for her. She even wrote me a note apologizing for being so helpless and that we ought to put her in a nursing home. That broke my heart. I told her that she has years of 'help credit' built up from all she's done for us, and that I'm happy to be here for her. She is the most giving person I know. We want to keep her home as long as possible if we're capable of taking care of her.

On Fridays I take her to the beauty shop in her wheel chair, and for twenty minutes, I get to read the magazines. I was flipping through a People magazine and came across an interview with the wonderful singer Amy Grant. The photos were of her family, and the biggest one was Amy and her father walking together outside. She lost her mother in 2011, and the article said both parents suffered from dementia.

She shared something that really struck home with me. She said, "A friend told me, 'This is the last great lesson that your parents will teach you.' That changed everything. I've learned that even tough situations are beautiful."

I never thought about this being a lesson. I just know that I want to do it well. I want to make these days as good as they can be for my mother, and even though things are getting hard, I'm grateful for the extra time I have with her.

An Innocent Condemned

And they laid hold of him, caged him, and covered it with a cloth so no one could see him. They led him away to the lower court, where the justices were assembled. Many false witnesses testified against him with the following claims:

• "He ruined my life!"
• "He embarrassed me and my family!"
• "He is unwanted around here!"
• He showed up at the wrong time!"
• He demands too much of me-- his cost is too great!"

And the judge stood up and said to the accused, "Are you not going to answer? What is this testimony these people are bringing against you?"

But the accused remained silent.

The chief justice asked the one hidden from sight, "Are you alive or not?" He turned to the crowd and said, "I hear nothing from the defendant." He ordered the captors to remove the cloth so that he could see him.

"We object, your Honor," the lawyers said. "We cannot allow you to see him lest you are beguiled and misled by his appearance. Listen to our words: we assure you he is not viable on his own-- he is a parasite living off others."

"Why do we need any more witnesses?" the judge said. He turned to the crowd of people and asked, "What do you think?"

"He is worthy of death!" they answered.

Now while all this was happening, Iglesia sat in the courtyard watching from a distance when a servant girl came to him.

"You fend for the accused," she said.

But he denied it before them all. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Then he went out to the gateway where another woman saw him and addressed him. "This man supports the undesirable!" she said to the people there.

He denied it again, with an oath. "That's your concern, not mine! I don't have time for such things!"

After a little while, those standing there went up to Iglesia and said, "Surely you are for the captive, for your name gives you away."

Iglesia was adamant in his denial-- even to the point of cursing. "That's none of my business! Leave me alone!"

"Then you're one of us," they crowed.

And when Iglesia realized his indifference condoned their actions, he went outside and wept bitterly.

When the morning came, the council reconvened, and the verdict was confirmed. But this judge did not have the power of final condemnation, so an appeal was made to the Supreme Court.

The justices of the highest court listened to all the arguments and witnesses of the previous trial, and still the accused made no reply, to the amazement of some of the judges who saw nothing that warranted killing the defendant.

While the Chief Justice sat on the judge's seat, his wife sent him this message: Don't have anything to do with that innocent, for I have suffered a great deal today in a dream about it.

Now it was the custom at this time of year for the Court to release a prisoner chosen by the crowd. At that time they held a notorious prisoner called Choice, who could've lived an honorable life, but instead chose to stir rebellion, commit murder, and steal.

Surely they would choose the innocent, the Chief Justice thought, not realizing some very visible and vocal groups had swayed public opinion to do otherwise.

So when the crowd had gathered, the Chief Justice asked them, "Which one do you want me to release to you?"

"Choice! Give us Choice!" they answered.

"What shall I do, then, with the accused?"

"Kill him!" they all cried.

"Why? What crime has he committed?" asked the Chief Justice.

But they shouted all the louder, "Kill him!"

When the Chief Justice saw that he was getting nowhere, but an uproar was starting instead, he took water and washed his hands in front of the crowd. "I am blameless of the blood of this innocent. It is your responsibility!"

All the people answered, "Let his blood be on us and on our children!"

Then the Chief Justice released Choice to them and handed over the condemned one to be killed. As they were carrying the draped cage out of the courtyard, one of the captors stumbled, and the cloth slipped to one side.

"Don't look," someone yelled in the crowd, "lest you are beguiled and change your mind!"

Most everyone-- all but a few-- turned their heads and covered their eyes while the cloth covered the truth again. They continued to carry the accused to his death.

A sharp intake of breath was heard among the crowd.

"Did you see him?" one asked another. "What did you see?"

"Surely my eyes deceived me," she said.

"What!? Was he horrible?"

"No... it was a baby," she whispered, "just a tiny baby..."

"But this judgment isn't about killing a baby, right?"

"Of course not. It's about the freedom of Choice... isn't it?"

An unnatural darkness descended over the land, and an eerie rumbling shook the ground.

Truth seeped into their hearts as they looked at one another.

"Surely this was a child of God."

"What have we done?"

Ramping it Up

Thanks to the encouragement and help of my sweet sister-in-law, Mary Ellen Casey, we started building the wheelchair ramp that extends off our back deck. My brother Joe and their two sons Kyle and Lance also helped out that weekend. My father was the chief engineer and did the bulk of the work afterwards. I mainly slapped paint on here and there.

Three days after we started, I received a call that Mom's motorized wheelchair would be delivered the next day. Our claim had been denied by Medicare because Mom was still walking with a walker, but ALS is progressive and we knew that time was coming. The very week we started on the ramp, she had two bad falls, the second one meant five stitches in her forehead, so we knew she was getting close to needing that wheelchair. We were building the ramp to accommodate a light-weight push wheelchair.

I'm going to have to work on Dad's picture posing.

Someone must have gone to bat for mom for her to receive the motorized wheelchair, and we're still trying to figure that out so we can thank them. But since the ramp would now need to hold 350 lbs. of chair and person, Dad had to add more braces, and he added 4x4 posts all along the sides to accommodate the extra weight. 

He looks like he's in time out or something

When Mom and Dad move to a new community, one of the first things they do is join a church. Then they look around to see how they can become involved in worthwhile projects. They volunteered one day a week at the local food bank, and Mom also volunteered one afternoon a week at the local hospital gift shop, which supports the hospital. Mom's speech began to deteriorate, but she could still write if people couldn't understand her. When her usual partner had to stay home to take care of her husband, her new partner was definitely orchestrated by God. Mom learned that her new partner's husband also had ALS, so Mazie was not in the least bit uncomfortable with Mom's  condition. Even after Mom had to retire from the hospital job, Mazie has continued to keep up with us, and even checked on Mom and Dad while I was in London. We appreciate her friendship so much.  

For the smaller ramp into the garage,  fellow ALS caregiver, Mazie Rosipal, 

let us use the ramp  her husband previously used at their house. 

Now the ramp is almost finished. We just need to add strips of 1x4s to the lower part of each side to keep the wheels from driving off the sides of the ramp. The wheelchair control is very sensitive, and it unnerved me trying to keep it in the middle of the ramp as I drove it into the house for Mom. 

I'm convinced that God put us in this house and this town at this time of our lives. He knew what was ahead for us, and it's comforting to know that He's gone before us. I know this ramp is another milestone with ALS, and it means everything's getting harder, especially for Mom. And when we feel so helpless watching ALS take its toll, doing things like building the ramp lets us feel like, if only for a moment, that we're helping and making things easier for her. But I cling to what Jesus' brother James wrote: He gives greater grace, grace that can overcome this disease and all of its heartrending ramifications.

I dedicated my fifth novel, The Last Key, to my mother, and included the following words:

For my mother, Isla,

whose eyes first saw this story;

My best and worst attempts at anything in life

find safe harbor with you,

along with my pieced and quilted heart.

I love your intelligence & humor & generosity;

You've taught me so much

by how you've lived your life,

more so than words;

Much more so than words.

I still see you vibrant & beautiful,

and that won't change,

even when our roles reverse;

You've always been strong for us;

It's our turn now to be strong for you.

I still hear you,

I've not forgotten your voice;

It lives in my memories,

and there it will remain

until it's perfectly restored on the other side.

I love hanging out with you,

even in the storms.

No matter who gets there first,

remember our date by the gate;

And until then, I'll walk side by side with you.

We'll all walk side by side with you, Gangy.

From 3rd Person to 1st Person

One church in our area advertises that they still sing hymns. Another church boasts that attendees wouldn't see an organ or piano in their church-- I think the line included, "This ain't your mother's church," or something of the sort. The great divide that exists between the two musical styles of hymns seems to run along age differences and/or "the raised in the church" bunch versus "the new to the church attendees."

Some churches have almost split, or at least lost membership when the church chose one style of music over the other. Personally, I like a worship service that retains its musical heritage and embraces new hymns of worship-- melding the two. That way no one is excluded when it comes to worship that is meaningful to everyone.

As a young adult, I was tired of the old hymns and wanted our church services to use more contemporary hymns. When I used to sing with a contemporary gospel group, I remember seeing an older feller in the back of the church with his fingers plugging his ears while we sang.

I didn't appreciate the old hymns, though, until I thought I'd lost them. When I moved to the Austin area some years back, I visited a number of churches that sang ONLY contemporary songs, many of which I'd never heard. During Sunday morning worship in one church I sat behind a woman in a halter top and shorts, and she didn't look like a first time visitor. Half the congregation was drinking coffee in the worship service, and the worship leader was wearing cargo shorts. I understand that many contemporary churches today are wanting unchurched people to feel comfortable attending church, but I really didn't feel like we were worshiping God there. It seemed like the focus was more on meeting man's comfort. And if we can't set aside our caffeine intake for only one hour to focus on worshipping our Lord and Savior, are we preaching an easy believe-ism that means we'll fit God into our lives only if it's convenient and comfortable?

I visited church after church that only offered contemporary, casual worship, and I found myself craving the old hymns, which actually surprised me. I finally found a small church that still sang hymns, and I began to listen to the words of the songs, many of which I knew by heart. But they had become rote through the years, and it wasn't until I was going through my divorce that those old words began to have new meaning for me.

But something I noticed was different between the old and the new hymns was that many of the old hymns sang about God-- third person, and many of the contemporary ones sing to God-- first person, and I believe that is significant. Look at the lyrics to Amazing Grace, Blessed Assurance, Standing on the Promises, In the Garden, Shall We Gather at the River, At the Cross; Holy, Holy, Holy; Onward Christian Soldiers, Count Your Blessings, The Doxology, Ivory Palaces, Just a Little Talk with Jesus, Would You Live for Jesus, All Hail the Power of Jesus' Name, Faith of our Fathers, To God be the Glory, Jesus Loves Me, Mine Eyes Have Seen the Glory, He Leadeth Me, and so many more that are written about God. Some exceptions are I Love Thee, Nearer My God to Thee, Love Divine, Just a Closer Walk with Thee, How Great Thou Art, but these are few and far between.

Look at some of the popular contemporary hymns today: Your Great Name, Your Grace is Enough, Open the Eyes of My Heart, Lord; Blessed Be Your Name, Here I am to Worship, I Give You my Heart, You are My King, I Could Sing of Your Love Forever, You are Good, You are God Alone, Lord I Lift Your Name on High, God of Wonders (You are Holy), You Never Let Go, Your Name, You are My All in All, You are Worthy of My Praise, Your Love Never Fails, Draw Me Close (to You), and many more. But there are also a number contemporary third person-written songs, too.

I believe the difference between writing and singing worship songs about God and writing and singing worship songs to God is huge. I think it's the difference between hearsay and first-person account. Too much of my worship growing up has been rote, traditional, repetitious, and not very meaningful. We followed the same routine of singing three or four hymns, taking the offering, listening to special music if someone had prepared something, and then the sermon. I was singing about God and hearing about Him, but for the most part I wasn't personally in the moment praising God and worshiping Him. If I truly was conscious of that, I would probably find myself face down on the floor in awe of Him. I've learned that first person songs help draw me face to face with God more so than the songs that I'm singing about Him. But that doesn't mean I'm for throwing out any third person songs. God uses them, too.

Right now I'm in a church that blends the old and the new, and I think that's the best worship experience. We still have the piano and organ, and two of the most gifted accompanists that can play both traditional and contemporary hymns. And we also have drums, a guitar, a violin, and a trumpet, too. If we do only one type of hymn to the negation of the other, we've denied part of the congregation worship that is meaningful to them. And when you think about it, worship services are primarily for the believers. Most of the evangelism and conversion of non-believers takes place outside of our worship services through relational connections.

There is a place for both contemporary and traditional music in our worship services, and including the old hymns doesn't make us any less spiritual or hip. God still speaks through those inspired songs, too. But the traditionalists should also take note of the messages of the first person contemporary songs, too, and allow God to use them as well.

Ugly, Black, Fuzzy Thing

My daughter Vanessa just about had a heart attack when she looked out the back window at our yellow tabby on the patio.

"Momma! Lincoln's playing with a big tarantula!!" she hollered as she ran out the door to rescue him.

Vanessa was nine or ten years old at the time. The cat nonchalantly batted the tarantula around like a toy, and the big spider kept rearing up at him, trying to be as ferocious as possible. Lincoln wasn't scared at all, but Vanessa couldn't stand it. She ran to Lincoln and jerked him up off the ground, holding him up high as she looked around for the tarantula. I can just see Vanessa looking this way and that, and Lincoln looking down wondering what she was looking at.

For some reason she could not find the tarantula anywhere. She finally turned to look at Lincoln's face , and to her horror, there in his mouth just inches from her own face was the tarantula. The cat must have grabbed him as soon as Vanessa ran up to him, thinking she was after his toy.

With no further thought of rescue, Vanessa shot-put the cat and the tarantula across the back yard. I still laugh every time I picture that in my mind.

Too many times in life, though, people get a hold of things or allow themselves to get into situations that are harmful. It can be very easy to lose sight of the value of these people when all we see are the very things or situations that are hurting them. They may not even recognize the danger to themselves and resent any attempts of rescue. Sometimes the rescuer gets hurt in the process, too, and it becomes easier to discard those painful people from our lives. Other times we completely avoid reaching out to people because we cannot see past the snares that have entrapped them.

On the other hand, harmful things in our own lives can cause us to isolate ourselves from others, maybe to avoid admitting we have a problem and facing it or the shame of anyone finding out something's getting the best of us. Many of these problems began by making wrong choices, but all are symptoms of a fatal heart condition each of us are born with... a heart condition that can only be cured by the Great Physician.

God sees beyond that ugly, black, fuzzy thing called sin we all have been hanging onto at some time or other in our lives, and He loves us anyway. He is not about to throw us away. That choice is ours.

An incredible talent... an incredible loss

Every so often a song grabs hold of me and won't let go. And I know I am way behind the times here since The Lion King has been on stage since 1997, but I saw it for the first time last month in London. During the play, I heard a song that I didn't remember being associated with the movie, and it just knocked my socks off, moving me to tears. I finally remembered to look for it this week on iTunes, and I learned there were two versions of the song: the first was Mafusa (the elder Lion King father) singing They Live in You to a young Simba, his son. The second was a reprise where the mandrill Rafiki is singing to an adult Simba the version, He Lives in You.

The reprise reminds me of a gospel song-- "He lives in you, he lives in me, he watches over everything we see, into the water, into the truth, in your reflection, he lives in you." It mentions "have faith, and there's no mountain too great." Sounds like the lyric writer knew Christ. The writer/composer credits to this song goes to three men: Lebo M, Mark Marcina, and Jay Rifkin, all very talented musicians.

I found several YouTube versions of the songs, and my favorite was from a segment of Rosie O'Donnell's show that aired in 1997 with the original cast members. They combined both versions of the song. Here is the link if you'd like to take a look:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ryhslEPIUH0

Samuel Wright as Mufasa has the most amazingly rich voice-- perfect for the older Lion King, and Tsidii Le Loka as Rafiki does a fantastic job in her role, but the performance that blew me away was Jason Raize as the older Simba singing only a few lines at the end of the song.

http://www.jasonraize.net/

I have watched a number of other Simba performers in clips since them, and the London actor I saw was outstanding, but Jason owns the role. And his performance on the Rosie O'Donnell show was so much better than his recorded version of the reprise from the "official" theater cast album. I guess there's just something about performing in front of a live audience that pulls the best out of some people. I was keenly aware that I was watching something very special and someone very gifted, and I would have loved to have seen him perform in The Lion King or any other production. Wow.

Then I read some of the comments by viewers and was shocked to learn that Jason had committed suicide back in 2004, and I haven't been able to shake the sadness for days. And the fact that he somehow lost his way and his friends and family didn't seem to have a clue that he was troubled is especially disheartening. Maybe he wasn't. Are they sure it was a suicide? I have found a lot of news reports from that time that all seem to say the same thing, but they actually say very little. And I found no comments from his peers and the people he knew and worked with. What am I missing here? Maybe I just didn't dig deep enough.

I downloaded Samuel Wright's recording of They Live in You, as well as one of the song's composers Lebo M's version, and also Tsidii Le Loka and Jason's reprise, He Lives in You, all of which I've listened to over and over again the past few days. And I keep going back to watch the YouTube combination of both songs-- my favorite. I love to watch Jason sing those few lines with everything he's got. It makes me want to put that kind of effort into something creative and worthwhile... something that will last beyond me.

I'm so, so sorry Jason's life ended way too early. What an incredible talent and an irreplaceable loss to his family and friends, and incredible loss to his many fans, even late-comers like me.

A New Path

On my original blog, http://blog.donnavancleve.com/ , I'm currently journaling my recent trip to London. We took our time while we were there, but it was still hard to soak it all in. I remember feeling like I wanted to re-invent myself while I was there. And circumstances at home have contributed to that. My position as school librarian was done away with, but it wasn't a stressful loss because I wanted and needed to be home helping take care of my mom who is in her 41st month of ALS/Lou Gehrig's disease. She lost her ability to speak over a year ago, but she can still communicate through writing & hand signals. She walks with a walker now, and only for short distances. We use a portable push wheelchair when we need to. We applied for a power wheelchair, but were denied because she is still walking some. The disease is progressive, though, and unless God chooses to miraculously heal her, she will eventually be in a wheelchair when out of her bed during the day. 

Gangy holding her most recent great-grandson August

Her throat and lungs are our biggest concern because this type of ALS paralyzes the tongue and the ability to swallow as well as weakens the function of her lungs to breath and to clear them. She gets the majority of her nourishment from liquid supplements fed through a stomach tube, but she still eats some soft foods, which increases her chances of choking. She's faithful to do what the doctors tell her; she wears a vest that vibrates her chest to loosen anything that might be collecting in her lungs; she wears a mask at night that helps force air into her lungs; and she received a new machine this week that will help her cough and clear her lungs. 

My parents and I on the porch of our new house, November 2009, five months before Mom's symptoms began

Mom is a trooper, though. She never complains or feels sorrow for herself. If she's able to do something herself, she'll do it. Her sense of humor is intact. She is the most selfless and courageous person I know, constantly thinking of others. She has the best memory in the house, and keeps my dad and me straight. My heart breaks for her and what lies ahead, but we try to focus on the good and not the bad. We're thankful that she's not in any pain. We're thankful that she can still communicate with us. We're thankful this disease didn't strike years ago. We're thankful that the dog she bought me for my birthday loves her the most and stays beside her throughout the day. He's brought her such joy and laughter, although he isn't without his own issues.

Snickers in his centerfold pose

Snickers was a part of the 140+ dogs living in a hoarding situation in Bastrop last year that has been in the news off and on. He's deaf and has poor eyesight. He has severe separation anxiety issues and tends to tear things up when he's by himself. He was adopted twice and returned twice. But he has the most loving heart and sweetest personality, and it didn't take him long to steal our hearts. 

Hot wheels grandmas in San Antonio with Mom, Nelda Watson, & Mary Blood

Looking back we see so clearly that God's hand has been guiding us and providing for us, especially in moving my parents to Central Texas closer to doctors and hospitals. And I have no doubt He led us to the house we're living in, which is such a good fit for us in so many ways. We're so thankful for His love and care, and it's such a comfort knowing that He will guide us through the days to come and give us the strength and grace to travel this path.