Remembering a Special Person

Today would have been my cousin Peggy's 84th birthday. She became a resident of Heaven on December 7, 2020; exactly 54 years to the day after our sweet grandma, "Mammy," passed away.

Our mothers were sisters, and she was my only first cousin. The family I grew up in was small. My mom's one sister had one child, and my parents only had two. My brother died many years ago, and now Peggy is gone. I'm the only one left from our generation. 

It seems odd that I am in the same generation as my brother, who was fifteen years older than me, and my cousin, who was eighteen years older than me. I was a late and unexpected addition to the family, no where near the ages of her and my brother, who grew up together. 

She was more like a second mother or a favorite aunt than my cousin. I loved spending time with her. I have fond memories of getting to go with her on errands when I was very young. 

Peggy took me to my first movie when I was 9 years old. Disney's Cinderella came out that year, 1964, and we went to the Malco on Garrison Avenue in Fort Smith to see it. Afterwards, we went to Pizza Hut for my first taste of pizza.

When I was seventeen, she and her family went to Six Flags and she asked my mom if I could go. Amazingly, my mom let me go! (I was very sheltered). Her son, who is four years younger than me, was thirteen and she turned us loose to go and ride anything we wanted to with instructions to meet at a certain place for lunch. 

Two teenage cousins loose in Six Flags. We had such fun! I think we rode every ride twice! And of course, she didn't have to ride stuff with him! Brilliant. She got sick on rides, and I never have. That was a great game; an all star memory that I still think of as the most fun I had ever had at that point in my life. 

Like I said, I was over-protected, and on that trip I got to be a teenager just having fun.

After I was grown and married with children of my own, we didn't hang out quite as much. After my mother passed away suddenly in 1996, though, we became close again. We went shopping a lot, one of her favorite pastimes. I have never been one to really enjoy shopping, but Peggy made it fun. 

Always, without fail, after a couple of hours she would announce that she needed some coffee, and off we'd go in search of somewhere to have a mid-afternoon snack. I think this is why I always have to stop and have coffee or a Coke and some kind of snack when I'm doing serious shopping, like at Christmas.

Once not long after my mother died, we drove to Little Rock to shop in a bigger and better mall. We had such fun on that trip! We each bought a new wallet, because we decided we needed to become more organized. We cleaned out our purses and put all our wallet contents in our new wallets. It may not sound fun, but it was to us. Looking back, I know she was grieving as much as I was for my mother. It was so like her to find a fun way to help us both mourn the loss we had just experienced. She was very close to my mom.

Maybe about a year before she had a stroke in 2012, we went on one last shopping trip. I didn't know it was the last, and it was for the best that I didn't. I had bought my house a couple of years earlier, but she hadn't bought me a housewarming gift she said. So she bought me a lamp for my living room. Of course, we had coffee and dessert, and I believe it was Denny's where we had our mid-shopping trip refreshments.

I still have that lamp, and several other mementos of a very special family member. While I treasure the items she bought for me --I know her love language had to be gift giving--most of all I treasure the memories of her shopping with me. My main love language is quality time, so it meant to me that she loved me, because she spent time with me.  

So, happy birthday in heaven, Peggy. You were not only family, you were a great friend to me. You had a gift for making a little shopping trip into a great adventure. We usually didn't buy a lot, but the memories I have are the treasure anyway.

<3

Halloween On a Saturday...Again...

Eleven years ago today, I moved into my very own house. It was quite an accomplishment for me to buy a house after being on my own for twelve years; not only financially and emotionally, but also spiritually as well. Halloween is my spiritual birthday; I gave my heart to Jesus on October 31, 1994. It is a very special day to me. I have never been the same.

I was going to just re-post the blog I wrote 10 years ago about my first night living in my own home, but I wanted to add a little explanation. After all we've been through during 2020, in this year of the pandemic, it's even more special to me that Halloween landed on a Saturday again, just like the first day I lived here. 

It's like, once again, God went out of His way to remind me that I am His and He is always with me.

God has taken care of me my whole life, but it's been especially evident since I went through a divorce and started to make my own way in life alone. He has never let me down, and He never will. 

Something I didn't mention in the original post is that I had owned the house for about 10 days, but my best friend and her husband and sons couldn't help me move until after the Heaven or Hell drama at our church. I know this was all in God's plan and timing. We had to delay until the drama was over and we had a weekend.

Which just happened to be Halloween.

So,without further ado, here is the blog I wrote in 2010 about that night.

Home Sweet Home

Did I ever mention that I bought a house? I did. I am a homeowner. After renting an apartment for twelve years, eleven of them in the same apartment, it was time.  It was quite a journey, from being newly divorced and working two jobs to make ends meet in 1997 to buying a house in October 2009.  God really did a work there.  Not only did He have to get me through some really rough stuff financially, especially in those early days, He had to convince me that I was capable of whatever He put in my heart to do--with His help of course. Anyone who knows me very well knows that I have not exactly exhibited an abundance of self-confidence.  That said, just know that my buying a house is a BIG DEAL.

God had been dealing with me for months before I even started house-hunting.  He urged me to start packing up Jeff's room; a good place to start since I obviously didn't use Jeff's stuff. Actually, Jeff didn't even use his stuff, since he moved to Virginia without the two six-foot bookshelves full of books (yes, he has that many books) and a closet full of clothes. That in itself is a story for another blog.  So, I began carting books to storage, even before I was officially looking for a house.

After months of searching, I found the right house and closed on the deal.  I became a homeowner.  Now if I could just stop shaking long enough to move.  Why was I shaking?  Oh, I forgot to mention:  I was terrified to move. I was so scared of living in a house.  My little second-floor apartment had been home to me for eleven years, and it was my comfort zone. I shifted into high gear: I started really packing and moving. A really good friend and her husband and sons helped me all day on a Saturday, and I was in. I had wall to wall boxes, but I was moved in.

That night after everyone was gone, I collapsed on the couch to rest and watch a little TV before bed.  I hadn't been afraid yet.  Hmm, that was strange.  It had been in the back of my mind all day, the fact that everyone would leave and I would be there all alone in a strange house.  As I sat there on the couch mulling this over, I heard the sounds of a group of children next door, having a lot of fun at their Halloween party. Ah, how nice.  It made it seem like a friendly, safe neighborhood. 

Wait a minute...Halloween?  Was the date really October 31?  At that precise moment, it hit me like a ton of bricks.  My first night to stay in my new house was October 31.  Unbelievable.  In case you haven't read some of my earlier blogs, this just happens to be my spiritual birthday.  I was radically saved on October 31, 1994, all alone in my living room.  It was a very dramatic "about face" for me.  I truly turned 180 degrees, from running away from God and all that He stood for to running into His loving arms and repenting.  I have never been the same.

As it began to sink in that God had purposely arranged for my first night in my house to be that particular day, peace enveloped me.  It occurred to me that I was not afraid. I was sitting on my couch, just in awe of Him and praising Him for doing that for me, when He clearly said to me that He gave me this house, and He wouldn't put me in harm's way.  If  He gave it to me, which He did, then He was already here and He made it a safe place for me to dwell.

I love it when the God of the universe goes to the trouble of doing something that will be very special to me.  He knew that it would give me peace to know He did that for me. It's home sweet home because He picked it out and was already here when I got here.  My Father is awesome!

Puzzling Times

The months since mid-March, when we were told we are in a pandemic, have been hard. 

At times I've felt isolated, like I was on a desert island with no boats in sight. It seemed at times like no one cared. None of my kids live near me, and it's so evident to me lately that I am alone.

I've had some anxiety, unsure of what lies ahead. I've basically become a hermit. For over 4 months, I only left the house for two reasons:  to do a grocery pick-up, not even getting out of the car, and go in to the office twice a week to do a few things for work that I can't do from home.

When school was about to start, I started going back daily, like normal. Only it's not normal. I stay in my office most of the day, and when I do leave I wear a mask.

The whole thing is stressful and so very "not normal." At times, it really starts to wear on me.

A couple of months ago, I was taking to my son and daughter-in-law, telling them how I was struggling emotionally. I really only feel safe when I am home, so that's where I stay most of the time. I don't unload often (at least I hope not) but that day, I guess it was showing that the stress was getting to me. I was battling depression, and I needed help. We talked a while, and I felt better after talking to them. 

About a week later, I came home to find a package on my front porch. My son and his wife had sent me a puzzle that they had worked recently, along with a sweet note. I was so touched at their gesture.

It's been on my kitchen table for the last couple of months, and at times I thought I would never get it together. But today, I put the last piece in. Finished!

While working on this puzzle, it occurred to me that the Christian walk has similarities to working a puzzle. 

We think we know what is right, until nothing seems to be going right. Eventually, we cry out to God for help, and He very patiently removes the piece we placed wrong and puts the correct piece in its place. 

This happened to me time and again while I was working on this puzzle. I would think I had it right; it seemed to fit, but later on it became evident that a specific piece just didn't go where I had put it. This particular brand of puzzle has a definite feel when you have it right. It just "schloops" right in, almost like it's magnetically drawn to the spot, and there is no more doubt that it's in the right place.

I know that may sound silly, but it seemed worth saying. Depression is a dark place that I have carefully avoided for many years, but have once again come dangerously close to. Working this puzzle was a reward to me for working all day. I could come home and work on the puzzle a little each day. It gave me something to look forward to.

I've written lots of times about getting free from depression, so it's probably surprising and perhaps disappointing to some of you to read that I'm struggling again. It's more complicated than "just going back there."

Depression is sneaky. It hangs around the edges and seizes any opportunity to drag its victims back into the darkness. This time, it felt like I was walking along in the fog and to one side there was a cliff.  On the other side, though, was my Savior, holding my hand and leading me back to a safer path.

During the last few weeks I have been doing much better. I know that Jesus never leaves me or forsakes me, and I am never alone. I've been walking with Him since October 1994 when I gave my life to Him. He has never once left my side, even though at times I have felt alone. 

He has been with me through it all, and He will never leave me. He will get me through this.

"The righteous cry out, and the Lord hears them; He delivers them from all their troubles.

The Lord is close to the brokenhearted, and saves those who are crushed in spirit.

The righteous person may have many troubles, but the Lord delivers him from them all." Psalm 34:17-19

Scaredy Cat

My cat Isabel is a "scaredy cat."  She has severe anxiety, which I think was brought on in part by living across the street from the football field when she was very little. The year I adopted her was also the year that our football team decided firing a cannon was a good thing to do when we scored a touchdown.

Izzy wasn't a fan.

She is still afraid of loud noises; things like thunder, large trucks driving down the street, and dogs barking will send her scrambling to get under the bed. A few mornings ago, she was sitting in my lap purring until the dog two houses down decided to start barking.

First, the purring stopped. Then, she started the characteristic fidgeting like she does when she's nervous about something. I knew the next step would be that she would get up and go to her hiding place under the bed.

I reminded her that the dog was outside and she was inside the house where he couldn't get to her. She of course did not listen to me and soon got up and left as I figured she would.

I shook my head and muttered something along the lines of "why won't you believe me that you're safe?" Then it hit me.

We do the same thing.

God tells us in His word to not fear, but we still do. I have battled with anxiety my entire life. I am so much better, but I have weak moments sometimes.

Some nights I lie down in bed, get comfortable and start to drift off to sleep, and then I hear something. Many times I have gotten up out of bed, checked every room, and of course all is ok.

This is when I get into the Word and read the places I where I have found peace. Places in His word like in Psalms calm my heart and help me remember to trust Him:

"I lay down and slept;

I awoke, for the Lord sustains me.

I will not be afraid of ten thousands of people

who have set themselves against me round about."  Psalm 3:5,6.

These days, the environment of society in a pandemic lends itself to being fearful.

Sometimes I have to shut off the news and just believe God is taking care of me. I'm doing all I can do; I'm mostly staying home and wearing a mask when I have to go out. I do grocery pick up for the most part but if I absolutely have to go into a store, I do it early in the morning before it's packed.

Then, I have to Just. Trust. God.

There's a reassuring passage in Isaiah:

"Do not fear, for I am with you;

Do not anxiously look about you, for I am your God.

I will strengthen you, surely I will help you,

Surely I will  uphold you with My righteous right hand."  Isaiah 41:10.

God is watching over me, I know He is. I have to be reminded of it from time to time, though; we all do if we're honest. I'm posting this because I DID need to be reminded, and chances are someone else did, too.

We are going to get through this by trusting in God, by taking Him at His word. There is a Bible full of promises of how He protects His children. We have to read and believe Him. He is our only hope. As the song says, "all my life You have been faithful, all my life You have been so so good..."

I choose to trust in the goodness of God.  Please join me in trusting Him.

Stay as safe as you can and leave this burden of fear in His hands. He is watching over His own. <3

Rescued Unharmed

Wow, May 5th. That was the last time I wrote. Time gets away these days. One day fades into another, and before you know it, it's been a month. Or two.

Here it is the third week of June, and The Virus still rages on. Working from home is the new norm for me. I'm so very thankful I have a job and I can work from home, but it just feels so....abnormal. Weird. Way out of the highly acclaimed comfort zone.

I still have not been back to church services, even though my church is meeting in two services to spread people out. For starters, to me it doesn't seem to be any better to be around people than it was at the start of this. Plus, I can't hug anyone. I can't sit with anyone (unless they want to take a chance on me not being infected, or I want to take a chance on them). I don't really see the point. I'm better off watching from home, which I do, faithfully.

I don't mean to sound cynical, but those are the facts as I see them. I'm certainly not suggesting that people shouldn't go church or do things out in society. I know some people really need to be with other people. We have the freedom to do as we see fit, and that's cool.

I've been staying busy, which is good I'm told. I work from home every weekday. I go into the office a couple of days a week for 3 or 4 hours at a time to print work I've done and saved, and to get documents signed to send to the administration office. I pick up more work that has accumulated to  home to work on.

Then I come back home.

When I'm not working, I read, or watch a movie, or binge-watch TV shows on Netflix, or sometimes go for a walk. I need to go for more walks, but the motivation has not been there lately.

I have cleaned out all the closets and have a huge collection of stuff to donate to charity.

Oh, and a very important new activity: I do a weekly grocery pick up. I order my groceries online and go to the grocery pick up area, where the store associates come out and put the groceries in my trunk. Where has this been all my life?

Simple pleasures. It's the little things, isn't it?

I'm not depressed, but as a person who was depressed most of my life until a few years ago, I know the signs very well. I could fall back into it if I don't fight it.

Today I'm fighting it. Some days I don't feel like fighting it, but I still do. Maybe not as hard as on good days, but I still fight. Because I remember sitting in the dark room staring at...nothing. I remember the complete hopelessness. I remember the loneliness. I remember feeling like no one cared about me at all. I remember feeling like I was in a deep pit and there was no ladder or stairs that I could find.

I'm fighting it because I know that this is all an illusion.

All is NOT lost; it is NOT hopeless, and there are people in my life who love me.

The most important person who loves me is JESUS. He died for me (and for you!) so that we could spend eternity with Him. He loves us with an everlasting love, and His mercies are new every morning.

That's great news! Sometimes in the fight I lose sight of the prize, as it says in Philippians 3:13-- "I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus."

So I go to Him every morning when I wake up and fall at His feet. I thank Him for keeping me alive yet another night and giving me another day to live. I tell Him all that is on my heart, and pray for a list of prayer requests that I bring to Him every day.

As long as He keeps waking me up every morning, I still have a mission on this earth. I still have a purpose, and I am still walking out His plan for my life. I may not be able to see into the future or know what He has planned for me from one day to the next, but HE knows, and that is all I need. HE has my name inscribed on the palm of His hand, as it says in Isaiah 49:16--

"Behold, I have inscribed you on the palms of My hands; Your walls are continually before Me."

He also says in Psalm 55: 17-18--

"Evening, morning and noon I cry out in distress, and He hears my voice.

He rescues me unharmed from the battle waged against me, even though many oppose me."

He rescues me unharmed. Yes, there is a real battle going on in the spirit realm. The enemy of my soul would like to pull me into depression again, and render me useless for the Kingdom of God. But GOD is on my side and He is not going to let me lose.

I think it might be time to start on that book I'm planning to write.

Be blessed my friends. Thanks for reading my rant!

6:18 am

Yes. Contrary to popular belief, 6:18 am does exist. I just don't usually see it anymore because I haven't been setting an alarm. Since the middle of March, I've been working from home. My normal body clock, when left to its own devices, wakes me up around 7:30 or 8:00 am. 

Let me back up a bit, though. I'm getting ahead of myself. 

I had called my doctor's office to refill a prescription last Friday afternoon, not realizing that they left at noon on Friday these days. The receptionist took my message and said she would have the nurse call me Monday if she needed to talk to me. I reminded her to please change the pharmacy in my file to [chain drug store], because they have a drive through and I'm trying to stay out of [chain big box store] these days. She said ok.

Yesterday afternoon around 5:30, I got a text message from [big box store pharmacy] saying my prescription was ready. 

Seriously?!

That was my reaction. I was so upset with my doctor's office for ignoring my request to change pharmacies. I have nothing against the one they usually send my prescriptions to, but as I said before, I'm trying to stay out of stores these days.

[Heavy sigh]

So, I decided I would get up as early as I could without setting an alarm (because it's sometimes 2 am before I can get to sleep lately). I reasoned that even by 8:30 or so, it's still not going to be as crowded as it would in late afternoon, when the text came in.

Lying in bed last night, I asked God to wake me up early so I could get to the store before a lot of people were there, confident that He would if it was necessary. Laugh if you want, but He has done this for me before.

You see, in 1998, before smartphones that can be used as an alarm clock even existed, He woke me up at 6am because I asked Him to. True story. I was on a rare vacation in North Myrtle Beach, South Carolina. I had no way to get up early enough to walk on the beach at sunrise, something I desperately wanted to do.

(You can read the blogpost on this blogspot entitled The Tide is Coming In from March 26, 2010. Look over to the right for a list of blog posts from years past).

So when I woke up at 6:18 am this morning, somewhat wide awake, I knew He had answered my prayer and caused me to wake up. I had to get up quickly before I drifted back to sleep and get to the store while it was still only Senior citizens allowed in. I jumped up, dressed, and threw on a ball cap. No time for makeup or hair.

At 6:45 am, I strolled into the store. They didn't card me, which was mildly upsetting. I mean, no one wants to admit they are over 60. I didn't want them to believe me, but they waved me on. Oh well.

No one was in line at the pharmacy. Amazing. I got my prescription, and decided to look around a little to see if some items I have not been able to find could be found. 

Score! I found hand sanitizer, disinfectant wipes, rubbing alcohol, and Lysol! 

God not only woke me up in time to get my prescription, He allowed me to find and purchase the things He knew I needed and had not been able to locate anywhere.

But here's the best part:  When I got back home, I had my prayer time and this is part of the entry for today in the devotional I'm reading out of right now:

 "Come to Me for all you need...there is nothing you need that I cannot provide."

Sometimes, we think we know how to take care of ourselves. I tried, by asking for my prescription to be sent to a drug store with a drive through.

Nothing wrong with that; I believe God gives us wisdom to do things to take care of ourselves. I was doing what I thought was best.

But God had a better plan.

I would have missed a blessing if I had simply gone to the drive through pharmacy. Because I went inside at the big store I was trying to avoid, I was able to find the hidden treasures God wanted to give me--and you know as well as I that in today's world, they are "treasures."

My God is an amazing God! He is my Provider!  

Thank you Father, for always providing my needs. Thank you for always knowing what's best for me and for guiding my steps. You alone know what I need and you never cease to amaze me at how you provide it for me.

You are an Awesome God! 

 

From Glory to Glory: Revisited

I'm in my 6th week of working from home because of the COVID-19 pandemic. Like many of you, I have had extra time to fill. I'm home almost all the time now, and I see things that I've been putting off and eventually do them. This afternoon, while cleaning a closet, I read some old journals. Wow.

I remembered writing about doing that very thing, and came tonight to the blog to look through my old posts. I found one where I had written about that in September 2018. I think it's good to remember the things God has brought me out of, as long as I don't get bogged down and quit moving forward. 

These days, we are all wondering what life will be like on the other side of this pandemic. Will we ever get back to normal? Do we need to get back to what we used to consider normal? 

Looking at this post from 2 1/2 years ago puts those worries and concerns in a new perspective. Ahhh, but we didn't know this was coming, you say. True, we didn't. But I want to insert parts of that post into this one and let's take a look at what was going on. 

(I will italicize the posts from the Sept. 2018 entry.)

One of the reasons I journal: Encouraging myself.

I want to remember the good things in my life, and I am thankful for how far God has brought me, even though I cringe at some of the things I thought God was saying to me. I really do know more who I am in Christ these days than I did in 2001. However, the main reason I have to write it all down is so that I don't forget the miraculous things God has done for me.

This is how I encourage myself in the Lord. In the dark times, when I feel like I have nothing to say that is blog-worthy, I can read and remember the times that God provided an absolute miracle for me and be encouraged. 

 My heart is a little lighter when I am reminded that God touched me in my prayer closet once many years ago when my heart was consumed with grief over a devastating loss and He healed my broken heart on the spot. I was still hurting for a while, but I had hope and was able to function again after that very real and miraculous encounter.

Can we talk about dark times? 
 

My 2018 self didn't have a clue that life as we have known it would all but shut down in 2020 because of a new virus with no cure or vaccine yet. But still, this is encouraging because it reminds me that God is taking care of me. What was devastating to me then might not be so bad if looked at through my new lens, now acquired by weeks of social-distancing to avoid coming into contact with an unseen enemy. But it was a huge giant in my path at the time, and God took care of it. If He helped me then, He will help me now.

More from the earlier entry:

I read about the times my children, grandchildren, and very dear friends who have become family to me were together and I am thankful they are in my life. We may be far apart geographically, but in our hearts we are next door neighbors. I truly believe that distance doesn't have to effect deep relationships of the heart. We can choose to hold those dear to us in our hearts whether we see them daily or once a year. It's just like no time has passed when we do see each other again, because God has connected our hearts.

Family. We have talked to each other so much more in the last 6 weeks!

There's one good thing that has come about due to the virus, and it needed to change: My children and grandchildren, who are spread out across three states, are all talking to each other and me, like we probably should have all along. We have had phone calls, texts, and FaceTimes with one another individually many times and two Zoom sessions where the entire family--all three of my children, my son- and daughter-in-law, both grandchildren, and me--were all in the same conversation! The miracle of modern technology let me have my whole family in my house at once via my laptop screen.

To be clear, it isn't that we "weren't speaking." We were just busy living our lives and never found the time to check in with each other. This has been a good change, and we hope to keep it up after life settles into some kind of normal environment, whatever that ends up being.

Finally, the following is still true. 
It could have been written tonight or 10 years ago. We are not staying the same. We are continually growing:

Reading tonight, I was reminded that in ten years I will most likely feel the same way about the journal entries I am writing this year as I did about the ones from a decade ago. I will snicker and roll my eyes and think "how spiritually immature I was!"

That's just the way it is, though. We are not staying the same; we who are in Christ are going from glory to glory:

"Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom. And we, who with unveiled faces all reflect the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into His image with intensifying glory, which comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit." 2 Cor. 3:17-18, Berean Study Bible 

Hang in there. God is working and HE will get us through this! 
<3 <3 <3