From My Wide-Awake Night Time

I've been reading in Ephesians this week since we are starting into a study of the book of Ephesians at church, starting this coming Sunday. 

First thing I notice is that Paul is consistent!  He starts his letter to the Ephesian church in much the same way as his letter to the Thessalonian church:

"May grace and peace be yours, sent to you from God our Father and Jesus Christ our Lord."

Then he went on to remind us that God "has blessed us with every spiritual blessing in the heavenly realms because we belong to Christ."

The specific blessings he mentions are:

• grace
• peace
• adoption into His own family;
• wonderful kindness toward us;
• wisdom;
• understanding;
• an inheritance reserved for His own children (including us who have been adopted by Him);
• the power and presence of the Holy Spirit.

These are His free gifts to those who belong to His dearly loved Son Jesus.  We receive them when we choose to believe in Jesus as the Christ, the Son of God, the Messiah.  It's that simple!

Want wisdom and understanding?  Invite Jesus into your life to guide you and direct your thoughts in all matters.  Live like you belong to God and want to honor Him by the way you live your life.

From my quiet time: Benedictions and Blessings

Found in the book of II Thessalonians:

"May God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ

give you grace and peace."

(chapter 1, verse 2)

"May our Lord Jesus and God our Father,

who loved us and in His special favor

gave us everlasting comfort and good hope,

comfort your hearts and give you strength

in every good thing you do and say."

(chapter 2, verses 16-17)

"May the Lord bring you into an ever

deeper understanding of the love of God

and the endurance that comes from Christ."

(chapter 3, verse 5)

"May the Lord of peace Himself always give

you His peace no matter what happens.

The Lord be with you all."

(chapter 3, verse16)

"May the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ

be with you all."

(chapter 3, verse18)

The blessings of God:

• grace
• peace
• love
• special favor
• everlasting comfort
• good hope
• strength
• understanding
• endurance
• His abiding presence in our lives

That's all for now, folks!

Continued from yesterday, which was continued from the day before, etc., etc. click here

When my cardiologist said he wanted to keep my heart at rest for the weekend, he wasn't kidding!  I was kept in bed for the entire weekend, and again on Monday right up to the time I was lifted up onto the gurney to travel to the cath lab for my angiogram. I was really nervous about having an angiogram because I thought I had been told a long time ago that it was quite painful to the patient, and that the type of sedation given to the patient causes the memory of that pain to be erased. All these years I've been hoping that I would never have to go through it.  So, on Monday morning I was full of dread and nervousness--needlessly. It was a piece of cake! I was awake for the procedure, but sedated just enough to be barely aware of what was going on around me, and I didn't feel a thing!

For an angiogram, a large needle is inserted in the femoral artery, in the groin. A long tube is threaded  up to the heart and dye is injected so the doctor can watch on a monitor screen to see how and where the fluid is traveling through all the little tunnels and channels! That's when he knows for sure what the heart condition is and can learn more about the damage.

The only scary part for me was knowing that I had to lay flat and very still, both during the procedure and for a few hours afterward. The reason is so you don't bleed to death! In my room the nurse had explained to me that the femural artery is a main, heavy-duty artery, and if that artery wasn't kept sealed, you could bleed to death in a matter of minutes or seconds even. Now, that's scary stuff!

Fortunately, all went well, and there was no indication of any further damage or blockage, other than what the doctor already knew. I was pretty much floating in the clouds through the whole ordeal, including the hours of laying still afterwards.

I went to bed that night (Monday night), fully expecting to be released from the hospital on Tuesday.  That's what my doctor had indicated when he visited me after the angiogram procedure. Well, Tuesday morning held another little disappointment. When he came to see me on Tuesday morning, he said he would be keeping me for another full day. Sometime in the middle of the night my heart, having a mind of its own, decided to go for a little run, and exceeded the speed limit! Bummer! Bad heart! Bad heart! 

Now, when I think back on it, I realize that it was rather ironic, because during every night I spent in the hospital, my blood pressure dropped dangerously low in the middle of the night and they always had to wake me up to try to raise my blood pressure. I mean, every single night! Now that I'm back home, I am still waking up every single night around 3:00 A.M. 

On Wednesday afternoon I was released from the hospital. It sure felt good to get home and sleep in my own bed!  Oh, I forgot to mention that on Monday night I was awakened by the sound of a smoke alarm going off  just outside my door--again.  I stayed in bed and stayed calm this time.  (I had become a pro at this.)  It didn't take long before I began to smell the acrid smell of burnt popcorn in the microwave.  About that same time, all the night staff began laughing and having a good ol' time over the mishap! Once again, the firemen showed up, but all was well.

On Thursday I will see my cardiologist again, and then I will begin cardiac rehab on October 31st--3 times a week, for 8 weeks.  I'm actually looking forward to that. For now, I'm doing fairly well, for one who had a heart attack just a week and a half ago--thanks to the fact that it was a mild one. I have a good husband who is taking very good care of me. We go for a short walk, at a leisurely pace, every day.  That's all the exercise I am allowed to do for now--untill I begin cardiac rehab. That will be carefully monitored by nurses and a doctor, and will include EKGs and frequent checking of vital signs. Today I was up for most of the day--did the complete laundry, cleaned up the kitchen, and got all the bookkeeping and bill-paying done.

I'm thankful to be okay!  For those of you who have been praying for me--THANK YOU--from the bottom of my heart!  (Yes, the bottom of my heart--that's where the vein is that got blocked.)

STAT !!!

Continued from yesterday's post (click here), which was continued from the day before

My Saturday morning wake-up call came way sooner than I had expected it!  Keep in mind that I got into bed at 2:00 A.M., then had a myriad of questions to answer, IVs to get set up, blood draws, and a fire alarm to keep me awake for a very long time!  I'm guessing it was 3:30 by that time, and I was still awake!  I don't remember ever falling asleep that night, but I do remember my "wake-up call" at 5:00 A.M.

Two nurses came scurrying into my room, and I said "Good morning" to them.  They barely said much of anything to me because they were too busy setting up more IVs, doing math calculations out loud to make sure they got everything set up right.  When they were finished, I was sporting four IVs--from four separate sites--two in each arm.  (And, once again I had to endure all the poking and pricking, and repeated trying again and again to get the needles inserted properly into the tiny veins in my left arm!)  Add all those IV tubes to the oxygen tube sprouting from my nose, and gauze bandages dotting each arm and hand--you get the picture?  All four bags of assorted fluids hung from one super-sized IV pole (which was designed to hold six different IV monitors), and all four active monitors had their own distinct sounds.

Just as the nurses finished with the new set-up, in came another phlebotimist to draw some more blood--two separate vials (big ones) this time.  As the nurses left my room I heard them talking about when the rest of my medication would be delivered from the pharmacy.  My heart began to pick up a little speed again when one of them said to the other:  "I told them STAT, but I guess their definition of STAT is different than our definition of STAT!  I heard later that she then took off for the pharmacy to get my meds, rather than wait any longer.

Soon after, all was quiet in my room again, and I was left alone to ponder what just happened, a cardiologist showed up to deliver the news:  "You had a heart attack last night!  The confirming enzyme showed up in your second set of bloodwork last night and we just got the results."  (My own suspicion turned out to be true.)  Then he sat down on the edge of my bed and began firing at me a whole slew of questions very quickly--faster than my mind could process them--the same set of questions asked twice before.

He also told me that my heart attack was minor--on a scale of 1 to 10, mine was probably a one or a two, and if someone was going to have a heart attack, mine was the best kind to have!  It turns out that a piece of placque broke off in the end of a small vein and blocked the vein. 

In the emergency room the doctor had said I would be kept overnight so I could be seen by a cardiologist, and then the cardiologist would review my reports and go from there.  I honestly thought (fully believed) that the cardiologist would then release me.  It never even entered my mind that I would be kept for several days!   So, when the cardiologist told me I would be having an angiogram on Monday, and he wanted to keep my heart at rest for the weekend, it was like he just dropped a bombshell on me!  I was far more upset that I would miss out on going to a rodeo with friends on Saturday night, than I was over having a heart attack!  Those plans had been made long ago, and I had waited ever so eagerly for the day to finally arrive.  (I had gone to a rodeo once before, and loved it!  Such excitement!)  I just couldn't believe this was happening . . . missing the rodeo!

To be continued . . .

A Sleepless Night

(Continued from yesterday's post--click here)

While I was in the emergency room, well past midnight, I could hardly keep my eyes open, and all I wanted was to get into a comfy bed, in a regular room, and go to sleep. However, hospitals are not a place of rest!  Once I was transferred to my room up on the top floor, there was much to do before I could close my eyes. The hospital gown had to be changed to a different hospital gown because the kind they use in the ER is not the kind they use in the cardiac unit.

Next was the stack of forms to be filled out by the nurse, which required me answering another whole slew of questions.   (I wondered why they couldn't just get the answers out of the computer since I had already answered all of the same questions in the ER, and I had watched as the nurse typed all of the information into the computer.)

After that repeat session of gleaning all of my medical history was finished, the nurse began the process of adding another IV injection to what had already been established in the ER, thus adding another bag of fluid to add to the IV pole, in addition to the oxygen tubes in my nose.  At that point my right arm (and hand) were pretty well covered with needles and tubes and gauze bandages, and I was thinking, okay, enough of the needlework tonight (I mean, Saturday morning).

But wait...there's more! The nurse had barely finished with all her needlepoint creativity when a phlebotomist arrived from the lab to draw more blood for more tests (probably the same blood tests that had already been done in the ER).  That presented a problem, in that she needed to use my left arm instead of my right arm, since it was already occupied.  The artery and veins in that arm are extremely small--barely "findable".  That was first discovered when I was in college and I decided to donate blood (for the first time)--it was not a pleasant experience, to say the least!  A few years later I was told by a phlobotomist not to let anyone use that arm for drawing blood.   Well, with this hospitalization, I found out that in an emergency situation, it would do no good to tell anyone that.  They have to do what they have to do!  The phlobotomist tried using the main artery, but it refused to give blood, so the needle was withdrawn--same thing as happened back in college when I first tried donating blood.  After some difficulty in finding another suitable spot, she finally decided to try using a "butterfly"--the tiniest needle.  Success!

Last on the list was one more round of rechecking my vital signs and temperature.   Finally, it was goodnight and lights out.

Oh, how I longed for sleep!   However, that blessing was not forthcoming after all.   My door was not to be closed that night, nor were the drapes drawn at the large picture window.   (Looking out from seventh floor windows, I had a beautiful view of all the city lights below me.) The noise in the hallway was more than even a hibernating bear could sleep through!   I was pretty sure the nurses and other medical personnel were having a party, and of course, the center of the hubbub was directly across from my room.  (I had been instructed not to even think about getting out of bed by myself, since I fell back down on the bed the first time the nurse tried to help me get up to go to the bathroom.)

As I lay there debating whether to sneak out of bed in order to close the drapes and the door to my room, an alarm began to sound out in the hallway. I think it continued blaring for at least half an hour--probably longer. (I learned later that it was a fire alarm going off on the main floor, six floors below.)   I began to feel a bit alarmed myself as I sensed my heart picking up speed!   Finally my nurse came in to assure me that all was well after all floors had been fully inspected by the firemen.   Whew!   She again checked my vital signs, and bade me "goodnight" once again.

To be continued . . .

One week ago tonight

I was riding in an ambulance on the way to the hospital, with an oxygen mask over my nose and mouth, and some nitroglycerin under my tongue. My blood pressure was 166 over 99. (Normal for me is around 110 over 60 something.)

We were in the middle of a meeting with our pastor and a good friend of ours who is on the "Board" at church, when it happened. The meeting was not for pleasant purposes. It was not without great stress, anxiety and tears. It was the second in a series of meetings during the week with at least one more to follow.

About an hour into the meeting I began to feel some strange pressure and tightness in the center of my chest. I began changing positions, hoping to make it go away. After a few minutes of that discomfort, my left arm began to ache, and then numbness began to claim my left hand, and the fingers on that hand got all tingly.

I waited for a few minutes, thinking, hmmmm, this can't be really happening. It must be my imagination due to the stress I'm feeling. I had been under deep stress and anxiety for several days, and had noticed several episodes of my heart racing. I began to feel concerned, yet embarrassed at the same time, imagining having to speak up and say, Ah, guys...I think I might be having a heart attack.

As the symptoms got worse, I did find enough courage to stand up and head for my bedroom, while explaining that I was having chest pains, radiating down my left arm, and my hand was going numb, as well as my fingers feeling all fuzzy. I have no idea what was the look on their faces as I turned from them to go into my bedroom, declaring, "I'm probably fine. I'll just lie down for a little bit." One of them said, "You've got two minutes." I don't think I lasted even two minutes before I got up again and told Larry I was getting concerned.

Larry immediately called 911 while the other two urged me to lie down on the couch. Yes, I was having strong discomfort, so I was doubtful it was just my imagination, but still . . . I hated the idea that it must sound pretty lame to be feigning heart attack symptoms in order to get out of the meeting.

Since the fire station is in our neighborhood, less than a mile away, it seemed like the paramedics arrived immediately! Of course, they quickly jumped into action, giving me three baby aspirin and taking my blood pressure and pulse. They placed an oxygen mask over my nose and mouth, then hooked me up to a portable EKG machine to get an initial read-out of what was taking place in my heart. Next thing I knew I was being placed on a gurney and then whisked away into an ambulance. One of the paramedics sat close to me as we sped off. He sprayed nitrogycerin under my tongue as he began asking me questions and trying to reassure me that I would be fine. As I tried my best to answer his questions, while having my face almost completely covered by the oxygen mask, big ol' hot tears rolled unbidden out from under my glasses and down my cheeks.

The ER doctor stood at the door to a "private" room, watching me being rolled down the hallway. As my gurney was rolled through the doorway, he informed me that I would be admitted. That small room in the ER became my bedroom, and a very uncomfortable gurney was my bed for the next six hours or so. One nurse traded my clothes for a hospital gown while another nurse got me hooked up to another EKG machine and then started a couple of IV's.  A phlebotomist came to draw blood, but found that she also needed to start a new IV line since the original one had stopped.  After she finished her poking and prodding to gain access to my blood, the nurse resumed the task of asking more questions, and seemed genuinely concerned for my well-being (or lack thereof).   Next on the agenda was a chest x-ray--a portable x-ray machine! Wow! (I've never had an x-ray in bed before.) Then they brought in a third machine and began an echocardiogram exam. Wow again!! I got to watch my heart in action, on a monitor that seemed akin to an ultrasound screen.

It seemed that for hours on end, a steady stream of nurses and medical techs paraded in an out while I only wished I could get into a more comfortable bed, in a regular room they would eventually admit me to. After what seemed like a ridiculously long wait, another tech came in, bringing with him the EKG machine again. He apologized for having to do it again, but said that the doctor wanted to run a second test.

When the doctor came back in later, he explained that he thought he saw something that wasn't normal on the first EKG, and decided to try a second one. He saw the same thing on the second EKG. Once again he said I would be admitted, but also told me the blood tests had not revealed the tell-tale signs of a heart attack. That should have been good news to me, but I had a nagging suspician that there had not been enough time yet for the tell-tale enzyme to show up in the blood work. (Over the years, I've learned a little bit about heart attacks.)

Another couple of hours went by while we simply waited for my room to be ready. About 1:00 A.M. my wish for a comfy bed in my own room was granted. The nurse was in my ER room when the call came in to announce that my room was ready for me. Thus began another half hour wait for my "transport" to arrive since they were busy with another transport at the time. At 2:00 A.M., Saturday morning, I was finally placed in my own bed in a much larger, private room on the seventh floor of the hospital--the cardiac unit.

More another time . . . It's only 8:30 P.M., but I'm ready to head for bed--my own bed, in my own home.

Her Life Speaks Love

I know a woman
who touches my heart
like no other has done.

She gives and thrives on
giving way beyond
the need of others.

It's her love of God

and love for others

that motivate her.

No need seems too great

for her attention

and desire to help.

It's not just for need

that she gives and does

with no thought of self.

Where there is no need

she finds a reason

to give anyway.

Her name is well-known

as the one who gives

so generously.

It's because of love

that her heart desires

to give to others.

There is no other

one that walks this earth

who touches my heart so.

Her name is Marilyn

and her life reflects

God at work in her.

Happy Birthday, Marilyn!

You are loved by me

 and many others.

You are truly a blessing

to all whose lives you touch!

We are so glad to have you

 in our family!

Thank you, with all my heart,

 for your love and kindness.

Jeannie

Just the Beginning

No, this is not sunset, as you might assume. This is today's sunrise. It was just the beginning of a very good day! I'll spare you all the details of everything I got done today, because it won't mean much to you. However, it was truly a day of success for me!

While my daughter has been forging ahead with her "31 days of Emerging From the Chaos" in her personal life and in her home, I've also been working at getting my life back in order--little by little. Some days it seems like such little accomplishment that I feel discouraged by how much I still have facing me. But then, all of a sudden I see a bigger jump in the process and realize that I am making progress.

One giant step forward has been to get into a daily exercise routine.  Since last . . . oh man, I've already forgotten what day I began this new regimen!  Phooey!  Well, anyway, for almost a week now I've been spending one hour (more like 1 hr. and 15 minutes) exercising--before I eat anything!  First thing on my daily schedule is always my "quiet time"--personal time with God.  Now, when I'm done with that, I get my tennies on and start my work-out.  It began with the hoola hoop--I have always enjoyed hoola-hooping, since I was a kid.  I was only spending 5 minutes doing that, although I've had to take a break from it since my neck began to hurt some.  Next I climb onto the eliptical trainer and do that workout for five minutes.  I intend to work up to much more time, but for now, five minutes is enough!  Then I get on the treadmill--for one hour!  For the first few days I walked two miles and burned a little over 200 calories each day.  For the last two days I've walked three miles and burned 250-270 calories each time.  It feels great to do this!  I'm loving it!  And, so far, I haven't missed a day!  I actually look forward to it every morning!

There is lots of other stuff going on in my life, which has begun to create some personal chaos, as well as chaotic upkeep of some semblance of order in my home.  It's getting better, little by little, but not fast enough for my happiness and satisfaction in a job well-done.  I just have to keep on keeping on, and continue pressing forward, looking ahead to eventual restored routine and order.

For a little comic relief, the following is something my husband recently shared with me--something he received from a friend:

When our lawn mower broke and wouldn't run, my wife kept hinting to me that I should get it fixed. But, somehow I always had something else to take care of first, the shed, the boat, making beer... always something more important to me. Finally she thought of a clever way to make her point.

When I arrived home one day, I found her seated in the tall grass, busily snipping away with a tiny pair of sewing scissors. I watched silently for a short time and then went into the house. I was gone only a minute, and when I came out again I handed her a toothbrush. I said, "When you finish cutting the grass, you might as well sweep the driveway."

 The doctors say I will walk again, but I will always have a limp.

So Many Things God Tells Me

On Friday, September 30 at 12:15 A.M., God said to me:
(through the words of the Apostle Paul)

Jeannie, "In everything you do, stay away from complaining and arguing, so that no one can speak a word of blame against you. 

You are to live a clean, innocent life as a child of God, in a dark world full of crooked and perverse people.  Let your life shine brightly before them.  Hold tightly to the Word of Life."

From My heart to yours,
God
(written in Philippians 2:14)

On Friday, September 30 at 10:35 A.M., God gave me this reminder:

"We are human [that's the Apostle Paul speaking], but we don't wage war [against the enemy of our soul] using human plans and methods.  We use God's mighty weapons, not mere worldly weapons, to knock down the devil's strongholds."
(written in II Corinthians 10:3-4)

From my Quiet Time

A great reminder this morning from II Corinthians 3:4-5 (New Living Translation):

"We are confident of all this because of our great trust in God through Christ. It is not that we think we can do anything of lasting value by ourselves. Our only power and success come from God."

Time for a Rest

This blog has gone into hibernation.

For Colleen

Happy 4th of July!

Have you ever read all four verses of "The Star Spangled Banner"? This video includes only the first and the last verses. The last verse is quite an eye-opener! It's amazing to realize how far we, as a nation, have fallen since these words were penned and given the honor of being our national anthem.



I find it quite "telling" that we seldom hear this verse used anymore! How many Americans even know it exist?. Would it be allowed in our schools today, or would it be censored?

BREAKING NEWS!

Something green showed up at our house last night. It is capable of running very fast, and must be carely controlled, lest it get us into serious trouble. It will require a lot of tender, loving, care.

"Honey, if I promise to take very good care of it, can I keep it?"

We caught this "bug" many years back. Although we got rid of it for awhile, the "itch" never completely faded away. Several months ago that old "bug" bit Larry again. The "itching" just kept getting worse and and worse, and he began scratching at it all the time! Last night he finally got relief. Aaaah--feels much better now.

This one (a 1995) is metalic polo green with tan interior. This photos don't show the sparkle in the paint--it is gorgeous--showroom quality!

Let the fun begin!

Saturday Morning

Same place, same kids, same fun, same NOISE!

Yup! They're in the pool again, all refreshed from a good night's sleep and a yummy breakfast.

Observation: Kids' batteries recharge much faster than adults' batteries.

I love having these kids here. When Larry and I first talked about how many kids we would like to have, he said one--I said four. We compromised at two. Now I have my four ("adopted" grandchildren)--Rachel, Nicholas (Nik), Joshua (Josh), and Caleb. They're only 18 months apart from each other (all four of them--planned that way)--ages 6 to 10. They look almost identical to each other--except for their sizes. Their mom and dad also look like they could be sister and brother, so it's no wonder the kids all look so much alike. The best part: they get along with each other great--most of the time, and they seem to adore us as much as we adore them.

I miss my own kids and grandkids alot. I'm so thankful that God has given us this "adopted" bunch who live close enough to get together frequently. I guess God knew (when part of my own bunch moved to Montana) that I would still need my "grandma fix".

It all began when we said "yes" to our daughter-in-law's request that we might consider letting a close friend of hers (Erich) live with us temporarily, when he moved here to start a new job. His family would have to stay behind for awhile (in Southern California) to do all the work of getting the family ready to move. We immediately liked Erich and enjoyed having him with us for two months before his family joined him. Within a couple of months after they moved here, a "family" relationship developed, which resulted in us becoming surrogate grandparents to the kids. They began spending every other weekend with us, unless something prevents that. It didn't take long for the kids (by their own choice) to begin calling us "Gramma and Grampa".

Yes, God knew how much I needed that and how much I would enjoy them. What a gift for one who couldn't wait to be a grandma, and loves being one!

Four Kids and a Pool

Noisy crazy fun going on at our house today: four little kids (who think they are fish--the jumping, diving, hollering kind) and a pool, and a slide, and a spa, and a beach ball, and a heavy-duty float mat, and four water noodles. and a float ring, plus four pair of swim goggles.

Add one more toy to the watery mix: a hula hoop!

Hmmm...I never thought of using the heavy-duty float mat in the spa before. It has become a boat.

I should go get my camera and take pictures to post, but I'm having too much fun just watching their antics! Can you say "imagination"?

Would you be brave enough to zip down a water slide into the smile of a crocodile at the bottom? What about into the jaws of a giant shark? Would you dare enter the waters of make-believe with four hyper water buffalos who have no fear of humans?

"Hey Gramma, watch this!" WAIT TILL I MOVE AWAY FROM THE DIVING BOA...

Now you know why I didn't stay in the water with them very long. (It's much safer over here at the patio table.)

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My Dad

A Wedding and Family Reunion

One week ago today Larry and I flew to Portland, Oregon to spend a few days with my family. The occasion was my niece, Hannah's wedding. The alarm clock sounded at 3:00 A.M. on Thursday, just three hours after getting into bed the night before!

Almost from the moment we arrived in Portland (10:30 A.M. on Thursday) until our plane took off again on Monday (3:00 P.M.) to fly home, our time was packed full of fun! After collecting our luggage and getting a rental car, we headed for Island Cafe--our favorite place to eat in the Pacific Northwest. It's an outdoor, tropical-themed eatery, at the end of a large dock on the Columbia River.

Next, we drove to our former neighborhood in Beaverton, Oregon (Portland area) where we lived for six years, just prior to moving to Texas. It was so enjoyable to visit with two couples who were favorite neighbors, both homes just across the street from our home there. I even got to pet the cat who used to play in our yard.

Then it was time to head up to Vancouver, Washington where we had lived for seven years before moving down to Oregon. Leaving Oregon to get to Washington means crossing the Columbia River, near where we had eaten lunch. We had just enough time left to check into our hotel in Vancouver before driving back across the Columbia River into Portland, Oregon to spend the evening with our son Jim and daughter-in-law Patricia.

All too soon it was time to head back across the river into Washington. We arrived at the hotel just minutes after the rest of our family completed their drive over from Montana. Perfect timing--unplanned!

Early the next morning (alarm clock sounded at 5:00 A.M.) we headed back across the river into Oregon for some visiting with former friends in Hillsboro (about 15 miles west of Beaverton). Larry was happy for the opportunity to attend the 6:30 A.M. men's Bible study he had participated in before moving to Texas, and I was happy for the opportunity to visit with a couple of favorite friends from the church we had attended. That home is the home of Tom the judge, whose story I just recently posted on my blog.) His wife Julie is also a friend of mine, so she and I then headed over to another mutual friend's home (Karen) where we enjoyed breakfast and a couple hours of "catch-up" time while Larry was at Tom's house.

Next...we headed back across the river to our hotel for fun with our family--both of my sisters and their husbands (along with the 8-year old granddaughter who has been raised by my sister, Dianne, since infancy), plus my dad and his lady-friend Marilyn. Dianne and Chuck were staying in a large suite at the hotel, so that became our central gathering place. Fun and laughter were always present in that room!

That evening (Friday), Jim and Patti, along with my niece Suzanne and her husband Brian, showed up at our gathering place. A little later, my brother, Bill showed up also. At that point our family gathering included fourteen people--all in one room! Think noise--fun noise! Just before we parted for bedtime, my brother-in-law, Ed gathered us into a circle. We held hands as we prayed for the next day's wedding festivities and for the new life Hannah and Andrew were about to begin together. A time of fun at the indoor, heated pool and spa was the perfect ending to the day.

Saturday morning was filled with getting ready for the wedding. The fun memory of that morning is the hilarious exchanging of clothes and shoes among the three sisters--me and my twin sisters who are only one year younger. The three of us are pretty close to the same size, and we grew up sharing a bedroom and our clothes. I guess it's true that some things never change! This exchange of clothing happened throughout our time together at the hotel. What fun we had with each other!

The wedding (at 1:30) was beautiful, of course! In late afternoon the family (both sides of my brother, Bill's family) gathered at Bill and Shawnee's home in Woodland, Washington (about 20-25 miles north of Vancouver) for a barbeque supper. After supper many of us gathered around the piano for a hymm-sing (complete with four-part harmony), with my sister, Colleen as the pianist. It wasn't long before Bill's father-in-law Warren suggested that Colleen switch to the antique pump organ (which had formerly belonged to him). Wow! What a treat that was! Mid-evening we all headed back to the hotel for pool time and late night visiting. Another perfect day was done!

The next morning (Sunday) we gathered once again--the whole family together (both sides of Bill's family) for the worship service at Bill and Shawnee's church. After church all of us, including some friends who had come to the wedding, re-grouped at a fish house for lunch. Following lunch, a bunch of us headed out for an excursion to Mt. St. Helens--the huge volcano that erupted in 1980. Although I've been there many times, it's always an awesome sight, and very sobering to once again stand at the site of massive devastation and loss of life for those who either refused to evacuate or weren't able to escape the fury of the volcano.

Visiting on Monday morning was mostly limited to breakfast time together since everyone had to pack up to head home. When the time came for my sisters' families to hit the road, it seemed to take forever to say our goodbyes, since we knew that it might be our last time all together for a very long time.

After they left, Larry and I still had "time to kill" before our flight home, so we managed to fit in two more visits before our flight time. We got a quick visit with our friend, David Beatty who had lived with us for a year before we moved to Texas. Then we met my brother, Bill for lunch just before leaving Vancouver to head back across the river to the Portland airport. (We drove across that giant of a river six times during those five days.)

It was an amazing family reunion! It wasn't quite complete without my brother, Tom and his wife Nancy, but with only that exception, the visit with each other, plus friends and neighbors was absolutely perfect!

Evolution Explained

Here it is in a nutshell:

That pretty much says it all.

If you're wondering where all the other steps (on the way to becoming a dinasaur) fit in:

Many diddly-what-nots" (bits and pieces of nothing) somehow got together and formed things that did not keep on evolving after finding their preferred shape, and size, and way of living, and permanent place in the theory that everything just evolved as time went on. Wow! Now, there's a thought!

Here's another thought: I guess when living bits and pieces of nothing quit evolving into something (or something else), evolution must have come to an end...somewhere along the line, yet, it is still claimed as fact (rather than theory) today. Hmmm, do you suppose the theory might be wrong? Do you suppose every living thing was actually created by an intelligent, supreme being who was able to speak the Word and cause it all to come into existence--just the way He planned it all? Hmmm...maybe we could call it "intelligent design" instead of random chance evolution.

A True Story About Forgiveness and Grace

Preface:  This is Tom's story.  Larry and I know Tom and his wife Julie, personally, from our former church in Oregon.  Even though I already knew this story, and spent much time in the home of Megan’s daddy–the judge, and even though I saw him cry through his loss…I was touched anew by the story as Diane has written it. I was stunned anew by the forgiveness God wrought in Tom’s heart, and the strength God gave him to act upon this forgiveness for his own soul, in order to give that same forgiveness to the man who murdered his precious daughter.

..

His story was written by Diane Comer, the wife of our former pastor at Solid Rock--a Jesus Church, and published yesterday on her blog "He Speaks in the Silence". 
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This was my comment and request to her: 
"Diane, this story is so deeply profound and moving…I wonder if you would allow me to either repost it on my own blog (giving you the credit for it), or simply refer to your post and direct my readers to your blog. Please consider my request and let me know your preference. I would also like to pass this on to our pastor. Larry has already shared the story with him, back when we received Julie’s email telling the outcome of Tom’s visit to the prison.".
..

Diane's reply:  "Jeannie~ This is Tom’s story which he allowed me to write in my own way… so you go ahead and pass it on in any way that works for you. What absolute astounding joy to see just the edges of how the Father will use the very worst of evil to draw hearts to His. And to think that sometimes I hesitate to forgive those who hurt my “feelings”!  
Much love to you, Diane"
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Jeannie said: "Thank you so much, Diane! Who knew how far-reaching Tom’s story would be! We have an amazing God who always turns the bad into good, for the glory of His name, and for the furtherance of His plan of redemption. Another great illustration of 'For God so loved the world…' "

...
Other comments to Diane about this story:
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Grace said:  "This is truly a remarkable story, sad but told in a very special poetic way. Diane, I love how you are such a wizard with words and you touch so many of us with your wisdom and encouragement each week. God blesses you with amazing positive energy to put beautiful words blended into thoughts with just the right depth to keep us pressing on, always looking ahead, never behind us."
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Beth said:   "A beautifully written story of unimaginable horror turned to something far reaching and for His glory. Amazing. Thank you for penning this in your blog!"
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Today I want to tell you a story.

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But this is not a pretty story.
In fact, this story’s horrors may keep you up at night.

 So if you only like the nice ones, go ahead and move on because…

.

There’s nothing nice about murder.

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This story begins many, many years ago when a baby girl was born to her proud father and adoring mother. Like every little girl, Megan loved to twirl and dance and laugh out loud. She played baby dolls and drew pictures of the sun and the stars and green trees beside pretty houses.

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She poured love and embraced life.

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But as so often happens for fairly-like little ones, Megan struggled through the painful metamorphosis from girlhood to womanhood.
Something snagged along the way. Pain invaded her safe cocoon. Misunderstanding and confusion and rejection and helplessness conspired to wreck her once-safe world.

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So Megan ran away.

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Away from the madness. Away from hurt. Away from a world gone bad.

But as she fled the darkness, her feet stumbled into that blackest of pits, catching her there, gripping her tight—drugs.

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This little girl who once swirled to the applause of her parents, descended into the dark relief of nothingness.

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Years passed. Years that should have been filled with boys and bouquets and snapshots of a life lived at the edge of joy. In their place were pictures of a hallow-eyed waif with too-limp hair and too-dull eyes.
Pictures that never made it to the scrapbooks.

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Her parents tried to help.

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Oh how they tried! Rehab and rescues and searching and letting go.

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But the lost girl stayed lost to all that love. Lost on purpose.

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And then one day the unthinkable twisted the nightmare into terror.

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Megan was murdered.

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Her proud father had to hear. And so did her mama. How their baby,
their beautiful, angel-haired, twirling little girl died alone.

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Afraid.

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And somehow it seemed to all who knew, that Satan won that day.

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All those prayers. Didn’t God hear?
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But this story didn’t end at Megan’s murder.
 ...

Maybe her story just started… maybe there’s a whole lot more to Megan’s life than her gruesome death… and maybe, just maybe, Megan is watching
 beneath the arms of God
 as this next saga of her story unfolds.
..
Megan’s adoring daddy, you see, is not a man to let things lie. He’s a man of action, of can-do-must-do-will-do drive.
And he’s a judge.  The black robed,
stern visaged, gavel-pounding guy
behind the oak stand.

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His name is Tom.

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Now I know what most of you are thinking.
Daddy gets bad guy and bad guy goes to hell!  Right? 
The good guys cheer and all the mamas all the world over
sleep a little easier tonight.

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But that’s not this story.

.

The bad guy did get caught. It took a long time and a lot of men and a lot of mamas with a lot of fire to get this guy. But they did it. They got him.
And they locked him behind steel so he could never hurt
a lost little Megan ever again.

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And he didn’t even say he was sorry. Not once. A really bad guy.

And Megan’s daddy— Tom— the judge— still grieved deep.

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But somewhere in his mourning something happened.

Something strange and otherworldly and unexplainable.
Something about faith and the Father.
Something foreign to all the rest of us watching.

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Tom forgave the man.

..

Reaching deep into that part of the soul no one sees,
Tom’s yearning for peace turned him to the One who called himself
the Prince of Peace.
And so he opened the book about that strange one
and searched inside the words to find what no one else could give.
What he found there shook his heart.

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Words about mercy to the undeserving,
and grace for brutality
and forgiving the unforgivable.

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Words like “Father, forgive them for they know not what they do.”

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Those words.

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And Tom, the one on the outside of those prison walls, felt his soul set free.

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Really.

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In fact, with the freeing of his heart, came something more.
Something hard to believe but true none-the-less.

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Tom, the-little-girl’s-adoring-daddy, that Tom, went behind the bars
 to tell the man, that very bad man who had murdered his daughter,
about the One whose words set him free.
And that bad man who had never even wept a tear,
that one who had not so much as said 'I’m sorry',
broke apart.

.

While guards held guns and no one watched, Tom talked.
Words about One who died on purpose for men like him. 
Bad men.  And good ones too.
And how the God-man knew what He was doing when
He hung from that sin-scarred beam.
And how He had the bad man’s face and Megan’s face and Tom’s face
all tucked into His heart as He writhed in pain.

.

And Tom kept talking.

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Words about why and words about how.
Words about life to the man who brought death to his daughter.

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And when the man asked why, Tom just cried. A lot. And…

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The one who wielded the knife and shed the blood and heard the screams—shattered in the face of forgiveness.

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And I think Megan knows.

And smiles.

And twirls a bit before her other Father
with a glee and gladness and joy not known since her little girl days.

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And so do I.

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And so should you.

.

Because that’s not just an ugly story about a world gone bad.
And that’s not a story where the evil one wins.

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That’s a story about One who sets the prisoners free.

..

All of us.
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Grace said:  "Speechless. Such a sad story we can only relate to on an unrealistic level. For me, when I step back and really reflect and refocus, looking at the injustices in my life, it really looks like a “temper-tantrum” and trivial now. I think for most of us when we think of injustice, we immediately remember the rude guy on 217, or the insolent customer who made us feel small when we did the best we could. These things, while our feelings were involved are so selfish in comparison to the story here, even if we struggle to forgive real things like the wrong from our parents where we bear the scars from their mistakes; even then when we step back and analyze our story to this one, our injustice is marginal. Suddenly, the weight of the balance in circumstances shift and we see what true forgiveness is. If this humble man was able to look his enemy in the face and stare into his eyes and share the gospel with someone we could never bear to be in the same room with, surely we can forgive whatever injustice done upon us. This story should shatter whatever glass house we barricade ourselves in, always focusing on the ugly rather than forgive."