Connecting the Dots

Ever wonder if something was coincidence or if it was meant to be?  Is it a sign? Or is it just the flow of life?  These are some of the thoughts wandering through my heart this morning.  How interesting to recall stones of remembrance this morning.  How interesting that life caused me to switch my normal day of writing to this day.  I am writing this on Thursday for publishing tomorrow.

There was a time I would have been trying to connect the dots, hoping for a clear picture.  Yet, the cynicism of my character prevents me from hoping, from daring to believe that an answer is immerging.

I am pondering a very important decision.  I wish I had given more thought to this decision years ago.  I remember sitting at the computer ten years ago.  I remember thinking, it’s not too late.  The echo of “you’re a loser” was screaming in my soul.  Words do hurt leaving inerasable imprints on the soul.  I would go back to school.  Ecstatic, I opened the letter of acceptance from Vanderbilt Divinity School.  Ever practical, despite a scholarship, I counted the cost and said, no… tenaciously holding on to the dream, I looked to Trevecca.  In what seemed like a miracle of divine providence, I was able to start classes within days of application.  I would squeeze my large body into seats next to barely grown undergraduates – I was taking the class for graduate credit but sitting with undergrads.

Time moved on – ups and downs – a business opened, a business closed… but the school continued.  The two years for graduation turned into four.  Finally, I finished.  For ten minutes – or maybe a day or two – I felt like I was no longer a loser.  I wore a cap and gown for the first time in my life.  More importantly, I also found I was a great student and loved learning. 

Next stop – seminary, the goal the equivalent of a Masters of Divinity, the needed qualifications for the ultimate goal of DOCTOR.  In my head, I believed the myth that I would no longer be a loser if I achieved that... I quickly learned that a Master’s degree was not enough.  A sour and distracted professor who repeated the mantra of “I’m not optimistic that you can get a ministry placement” once again dashed hopes.  

Finally, I looked else were – acceptance at two EdD programs boosted my bruised morale.  I chose.  I chose Trevecca, my alma mater.  The air smelled sweet as I walked the familiar Trevecca paths once again.

That was a year and a half ago.  Today I will meet with my adviser to discuss withdrawing from the program.  Why?  The reasons are too many to list.  My age, my unemployability, my concerns for the burgeoning debt while facing retirement, lack of enough participation in my research study, my need for purpose and participation in life – as well as a host of small demons that rear their head.  I’ve discovered that an EdD is not a good enough degree either.  Only the exalted PhD will do.

But today, as I think of stones of remembrance, my mind goes back to that first summer intensive.  So excited and so scared I moved into room 101 of Georgia Hall at Trevecca.  For nine days I would experience what I had never experienced in my youth – life in a college dorm.  While I found myself alone and isolated most of the time, I still was excited about life and the experience.  I felt like I was coming out of a very long dark winter of hibernation.  I felt alive.  I felt I had slayed Goliath as I drove from campus that summer.

In a solemn act one day, our cohort was led in a stones of remembrance.  Mine was prism shaped.  We were to write on the stone our name, on the other side, why we were here.  I thought; I pondered.  It was a solemn moment.  I wrote “Glorify God.”  Stones were collected.  A prayer was offered.  We were given that stone again last summer to keep with us during the grueling days of the summer intensive.  It sits in a box on campus waiting for my return next summer.  But will I be there to collect it?

How odd to write about stones of remembrance on this day – on this day where my educational future is uncertain.  Is this degree more about glorifying God than about my future?   I can’t connect the dots.

A professor gave a devotional in one of my classes.  He talked of Penuel (Genesis 32:24-32).  He spoke of the lone graduate student, in the middle of the night, wrestling over the dissertation and the work.  He spoke of God coming and meeting the student.  Today, I will go to a retreat center named Penuel Ridge to see if I want to do some volunteer work there – I need to be out and contribute more – why not?  But how odd it is Penuel.

Today, as I ponder the stone of remembrance that says “glorify God” and plan a visit to Penuel, I wonder… is it a sign? Is there a message?  I do not know…

Altars of Desperation

Linda Maynard is a real trooper - despite lack of power and computer problems, she continues on...This is HER blog.

I can think of two times in my life that were so significant, that they were places that I built altars of remembrance.

The first was, when I was a 17 yr old. I was pregnant, out of wedlock. At the time, there was much shame attached to such a pregnancy. I was scared and felt alone. I had messed up my life but I think I was more bothered  that I had disappointed my parents.  Abortion was a word I hadn’t ever heard. Sometimes since then, I have wondered, if it was so open and freely available, would I have chosen that path? I can’t honestly say. I know I felt hopeless. I can understand what may seem to some as an easy solution.

I was contemplating suicide. It wasn’t just another “Oh life is just too hard“… I was making a plan and a way to do it.  When I was deeply thinking about it, the Lord invaded my thoughts with one that said something like this:

”Did you realize that you would be killing two people and not just one?” 

I honestly had not had that train of thought.  In that moment, I have to say, I cared about my child more than I cared about myself. That was enough reason to not go through with my plans.

I carried my son to full term.  Soon after his birth I made the agonizing decision to place him for adoption. It was an agonizing decision…but I wanted to give him the best chance at a good life.

The other moment was an volatile encounter with my husband.  We have been married for 41 years and I look back to a day when we were married about maybe 10 years or so.  We were both raised in the same denominational church and didn’t practice our faith when we dated, nor as newlyweds.

When our children were young, I became a follower of Jesus. I embraced the message of the Cross, realizing that before I knew “about” Jesus but now I “knew” Him personally.  This presented a huge problem in our marriage as my husband was angry, suspicious and irritated by my new faith. It seemed to me that my new faith was tearing us apart, rather than brining us closer.

I was new in my faith. I was confused. I loved my husband very much. As arguments escalated about my beliefs or church and Bible Study attendance, I didn’t know where to turn.  One day, we were in our bedroom and the fight continued. We were screaming at each other. I was angry, confused and not a little afraid.  I wanted to be a good wife and do things right but this was going on for months and was going nowhere.

I was so distressed that I had my Bible in my hands.  I started to rip pages out and throw them at him. I screamed:

“Is this what you want???…

OK…this is what you want…

I will destroy this book that is coming in between us!” 

I was making no sense. I didn’t even know half of what I was saying. He left the room.  I felt he had “won”  I was furious…I didn’t want to be controlled and certainly did not want to live like this. I decided, once and for all, the marriage was not worth it.

I was sitting against the wall, when the still small voice of the Lord spoke to me.  He literally brought me back to the altar on the day of our wedding and said:

“Did you mean it when you said before Me that 

you promised to stay with your husband 

for better or for worse…

in good times and bad…

till death do you part?”

I was shaken…He got my attention though. However, He was waiting my answer…could He take me for my word???

I knew things would not become any easier and would probably be harder (which they were for 13 more years) but I had a chance to find out if I was a woman who could be trusted with her word.

I stayed in my marriage and continued to grow with the Lord.

There still were many more times of conflict and I remember feeling resentful and lonely but it was a marriage worth saving.

I thank God that I did not murder my son. 

I thank God that I stayed with my husband.

It Aint Easy Blessing Jesus When Life Sucks!

Thinking back on what Jesus has done in my life and His Faithfulness and what I carry around with me as reminder, I think about the song 'Blessed Be Your Name'. Its a song that seems to play on the radio at the just the right time Its a song Holy Spirit used to teach me the true meaning of Praise. But what is even cooler about 'Blessed Be Your Name' is its a song that my family has learned and sings together during good times and bad.

Back in 2006, I was at the strongest in my Faith at any time in my life up to that point. I was digging into the Word with passion. Instead of watching Sportscenter first thing in the morning, I was reading my Bible. Instead of watching cartoon network after work, I was marking up the margins of my bible with new insights. I dusted off the concordance and was "discovering" answers to questions I had noted in the columns years before. I was memorizing Scripture and singing Praise and Worship as I was banging around the house, even at work. I would even break out a song of my own while on the job or in the grocery store. Sometimes His love would be so great I would sing in Tongues. (I imagine this might have been odd to those who didn't know me, maybe even to those who did?) I was sharing Jesus with people, I was even praying for co workers right the spot. I was soaring! I was strong!

Man, it is easy to praise Him when things are going great.

During this time of strength, I made a few choices that would impact my life. I did not enter into these decisions lightly. I prayed about each one, I sought the advice of friends who knew me well enough to speak honestly with me. I confirmed my decisions with Scripture. I was confidant that I was in "God's will."
And right now, I can strongly say that some of those decisions that I had made were my will!
It sucks having to admit that. I hurts even more as I am still digging out from some of the decisions I made. Periodically, I have had to stop myself from thinking about "what if", "I coulda" or "I shoulda".

Coulda?! Shoulda?! DIDN'T!!

If I am honest with myself and with Jesus, during a period of great strength I made poor choices but it was a season of pain and suffering that has strengthened my Faith and character the most.

I went to church on one Sunday morning with Logan. That actually was a huge first step for me, because I was so pissed at God that I didn't want to waste my time at another Sunday "dis-service". Then I got lost looking for the church I wanted to visit. Like a majority of churches, 10:00 a.m. is the required start time, so with time running out, I gave up searching for that church. Instead, I pulled into a church that I had attended previously, many years ago when they held Saturday night services.

By this time I was irritable and I imagine it showed on my face because, the greeters and ushers let me walk by without the usual questions of "Is this your first time here?" "What's your name?" "Do you have our visitors packet?"

When worship began, I was tossing around all sorts of criticisms in my mind. As usual the sound was at concert level and the worship team wasn't leading the body in worship, but more so they were performing for the congregation. Then, after one song, the band stopped playing and announcements were given and the beggar's pots, errrr, collection baskets were passed around. It's interesting to me how often Worship of Jesus will get interrupted for announcements, collections, introductions and such, but I have yet to see a sermon interrupted for the same tasks.
By this time I was wanting to split! But I felt like Holy Spirit was asking me to stay. So as I am singing through a clenched jaw, I become overwhelmed with all the mistakes I had made that led me to this time of darkness. I wanted to bolt out of there so bad, but I stayed. I would like to say that is was me that made the decision to stick it out, but I know that it was His strength that enabled me to "endure". And then the song Blessed Be Your Name appeared on the overhead screen. I said to myself, "He is worthy of my praise! I am gonna praise God!"

It aint easy blessing Jesus when life sucks!

But it is so much easier to bless Him in difficult times,
than trying to slug through the slop and slime of life without Him
trying to dig myself out of my sin and mistakes.

Since then I have come to learn to recognize Holy Spirit's leading more clearly. I have now a greater discipline to accept God's direction. I understand that when He says wait, I better put the brakes on. When He says move, I better not hesitate.

After all, He is God and I am not!

Now, I am still a flawed man that can be overcome by selfish motivations and stubbornness. Both of which limit Holy Spirit's influence upon me, as well as my desire to do what He suggests. I will get out of line with His direction, His will. By having gone through the desert, I have learned to trust Him, to know that He wants to guide me. By praising Him because He is worthy and not because I feel happy enough to do it, I said to Jesus "Not my will, but Your will!"

Yeah, it was and is cool to have the love of Jesus so strong in my life that I can't contain it. But what is even more cool, is that I now can and will praise Him when life seems tough and unfair. No matter what happens in my life, no matter what I do, Jesus is on the Throne and He will remain there until God says otherwise. Dad has given me a will of my own and it is my choice, in good times as well as bad, to say God, blessed be YOUR name.

The river can be deep and/or wide...but it's always cold.

4 Then Joshua called the twelve men whom he had appointed from the children of Israel, one man from every tribe; 5 and Joshua said to them: “Cross over before the ark of the LORD your God into the midst of the Jordan, and each one of you take up a stone on his shoulder, according to the number of the tribes of the children of Israel, 6 that this may be a sign among you when your children ask in time to come, saying, ‘What do these stones mean to you?’   Joshua 4:4-6 (NKJV)

We take crossing a river for granted these days. Just driving to work each day, I cross over a river at 70 mph without a second thought. That's very much a new concept though in the big picture of human history...

For thousands of years, rivers were major obstacles in people's travels. Rivers have long been a huge problem in getting from point A to point B. Even today, many of our state borders  in the U.S. are defined by major waterways signifying their geographic importance.

 For me, the passage of Scripture from Joshua contains a strong metaphoric element that causes me to look at my own life obstacles (or rivers) that have hampered or delayed my personal path into God's promised Kingdom. There have been several, but probably none more significant to overcome than that period in my life I often write about on Kingdom Bloggers that I refer to as the dark years.

As for the stone I carry that's a physical reminder of God leading me through that darkness, I spoke about it back in September while presenting for a Wednesday night series at church where I attend on the history of the English-translated Bible. The series is called Essentials and has been received very well. I am one of three presenters in this ongoing series that looks at the fundamental elements of our faith...what makes us Christians. We don't get into denominational differences but rather look at the core Biblical principles of our theology.

Believing the Bible to be the inspired, inerrant word of God is absolutely pivotal to the foundation of our faith. I started my three night part of the series by sharing the story of a young man who went off to college and became lost in what I refer to as the pseudo-scholarship instructions of secular education (a term explained during a separate class) where skepticism is very often confused with critical thinking. To conclude that first night, I shared the 'rest of the story' you can see below...




Even though these days I use my smart phone or a reference study Bible my wife bought me a few years back in my readings and study, the Bible I hold up in the video is never far from me at any given time. It travels with me in the car, it stays on my desk or by my bed at home. That Bible that was gifted to me 30 years ago next May is the stone of remembrance I carry. Sure, the fact my personal stone is the actual living word of God helps remind me of the doubt that filled my heart those years ago, but that particular Bible also comforts me because I now know God was always with me as I crossed that river of doubt.

For that...I'm eternally grateful.


(If you're interested, you can check out and share the Essential Series on our church YouTube Channel at http://www.youtube.com/user/FFWBCCH)

Stones of Remembrance

When the Israelites crossed the Jordan, the Lord instructed that a representative from each tribe should carry a stone that was in front of where the priests stood who carried the Ark of the Covenant and bring it with them to set up a monument to the Lord as a sign for the generations to come. This week on Kingdom Bloggers, we are writing about our own stones of remembrance. Why don’t you read along and share your own stone of remembrance. Have you performed a physical act, like the Israelites, or do you remember through stories and testimony?

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Every year, I celebrate the greatest testimony for me that God exists and loves me. I celebrate and give God glory on my wedding anniversary - this year it was 15 years.

Nobody thought my marriage would last – I was young, we’d only known each other for less than a year and we were married in Las Vegas.  If that wasn’t enough evidence to expect a divorce in short order, we hit trouble just after our 2^nd anniversary. I wasn’t certain we would make it to our 3^rd year anniversary.

Around the same time, I began a Bible study by Henry Blackaby, called Experiencing God. Every Biblical truth I learned in the study was tested in my home life but I chose to put my faith in Jesus. I remember praying, begging Jesus to help us make it to the 7^th year of marriage, when I knew we would have rest (according to the Biblical principal of Sabbath for the land). In December 1998 I was baptized with water, cementing my decision to die to myself and live for and with Christ.

The troubled year passed and we celebrated our 3^rd anniversary by skydiving – a prophetic action to say it was all or nothing. Our marriage survived. I forgot about my desperate cry to the Lord, but he didn’t. One week after our 7^th anniversary, we were offered an incredible living arrangement and job opportunity in the only suburban communities I would have considered if we were to move away from downtown Vancouver. It was the rest I had prayed for.

Every anniversary is a testimony to God’s faithfulness and good plans for me and my household, and it is my biggest stone of remembrance.

Rocket Man...burning out his fuse up here alone.

I had a dream as a young boy...

When Neil Armstrong stepped out of Apollo 11's Lunar Module in July 1969, I was sitting beside my grandmother watching on her black and white television. Although I was completely unaware at the time, she was dying from cancer and would take her own final trip just a few months later. I treasure that memory... and miss her today.

As far back as I can remember, I always wanted to be an astronaut. After a few flying lessons from a former Leatherneck pilot in an old cub prop plane, I was ready for the big show. I had it all mapped out. Through Vanderbilt University for commissioning in the USMC. Flight school. Carrier duty. Instructor School. Test Pilot Program. Astronaut Program. Space!

God had a different plan. I never made it to step two...vision 20-40...unacceptable for flight training.

Now don't get me wrong, I was crushed. But looking back at how NASA changed from the glory days of Apollo through the routine grind of Skylab to driving a space bus called the Space Shuttle, maybe my dream wasn't the only one that faded.

I changed majors from engineering to business after my flight school hopes were dashed. The USMC paid for my education, and in return I gave them five years of service. One more than I had to give. While I cherish my time and lessons learned as a Marine Officer, somehow I lost that enduring motivation to stay for a military career and left to go to law school in 1991...but I never went.

Being an attorney really wasn't my calling (though some would argue that fact) and in the midst of a very personal crisis, I never pursued enrollment in the schools that accepted me. There are absolutely no regrets in that statement...none at all.

Looking back at that fork in my path twenty years ago (something I rarely, if ever, do), it is far too evident to me just how immature around age thirty I really was. Shamefully evident. Serving God was not to be found anywhere in the picture of my life. Without going into dialog concerning eternal security, I can't help but wonder what would have happened if God had decided my time here was over during that dark phase. Thankfully...He didn't.

While I may not be living my childhood dream today, I am nonetheless living a dream life. My home is filled with love and happiness, my girls look forward to going to church each week and finding their own paths in God's will, and each night after a final word with my life's love, then one with my Father...I fall into a peaceful sleep realizing that if I don't wake up in this world the next morning...well...I'm a very, very blessed man.

You just don't need a spaceship for that dream.

The Bride and the “Broom”

Linda Maynard is without power from the storm that ravaged the East Coast.  Being a trooper, she got her blog to us.  As you read it, pray for her and all those on the East Coast without power and dealing with the aftermaths of this storm.

Sometimes, when people have said to me…”I always knew I wanted to be…” OR when asked “ What dreams did you always have?”, I have sometimes been stumped.

Not having a lot of stability growing up, it was hard to dream when I was just trying to survive.
As this topic was presented for the Kingdom Bloggers, faint and almost hidden hopes and dreams came back to me.

I remembered a very little girl who attended summer camp.  Rainy day activities centered around a box of crayons. Year after year, I drew and colored the same picture…a Bride and a “Broom”. Yep, that’s what I called him in those days. I was sure that is what people were saying.

This couple was always happy, that I remember. I wanted to get married…but I wanted more assurance that the marriage would be a happier one than the ones that I saw.

As I got a little older, say 6th grade or so,  I started to get stirrings of becoming a nun. I told my mother I wanted to become a nun. I felt that I had the “calling”. I could have joined the convent in 8th grade and finished my high school there. My mother, in her wisdom said “ Let’s wait until you graduate from High School and we will cross that bridge when we come to it” I even had a name picked out…Sister Mary Catherine.

The fact that these two desires focused on being a Bride is not lost to me today. A desire to be a Bride spoke to me of happiness and fulfillment.

Years later, in my adulthood, I kind of made fun of my desire to be a nun. I sensed the Lord did not share the “put down” that I experienced when I thought of it. At that moment, I realized that my true desire was to be as close to God as I could. He knew what was behind my longing. I viewed nuns that way. Also, they even wore a ring symbolizing that they were married to Christ.

I have lived out the dream to be a Happy Bride with my husband of 41 years. Never the perfect life in marriage and yet nothing could ever separate us, except death. We both realize that we are truly a blessed couple.

As far as being a nun, I have since realized that I can be as close to God as I want to be. Scripture tells me that I AM the Bride of Christ.

My capacity for ministry was not lost because I didn‘t chose the convent. I truly love the Lord. I minister in so many ways, that I couldn’t even imagine back then. He is my Bridegroom and I am His Bride.

This remembering and revelation brought front and center that the Lord gives me the desires of my heart…not give me the things I randomly want, as some think…but HE is the one who puts the life giving desires in my heart in the first place.

Donna Reed

If I were to be able to recover the large brown Olan Mill’s photo album, in addition to the pictures on its pages, I would find scraps of paper.  Some would be old report cards from PS220, there would be the card signed by Mr. Marquardt from Hickman High School saying I had completed drivers education.  A picture of Tondi Lund with red writing on the back telling me she’d never forget me and not to forget our struggle, or stump the youth pastor.  These were an odd combination of snippets of my life.  Included was also a small piece of paper, in blue ink I had scribbled a quote from a book I had read. I believe it was a book by Willa Cather.  It read something like this: 

The tinkling sound of her wedding ring on her mother’s china in the cupboard, she was a woman full grown.

I must have been 14 when I scribbled those words on that piece of paper.  Somewhere I had heard that it was a good idea to save quotes from good books.  Those lines sent me to dreaming of the day I had my own home. 

The girls of my generation almost all had doll carriages, miniature replicas of large prams that sat outside the stores on 5^th Avenue.  Almost as if it were a different world, the prams were filled with babies while their mothers shopped inside.  Some would be sleeping, others sitting upright strapped in place with a harness.  I would stop and admire all the babies.  If one were crying, I would talk to them.  Then I would check my own “baby,” my Betsy Wetsy doll, and go on with my own tour of 5^th Avenue.  My father would smile, as I would stop to check my baby.

Thinking I was ready for life and fearing no one else would have me, at 16 I walked down the aisle of a church with my father.  I was a happy bride.  I would be a wife and within a year, a mother.  My father would smile at me, perhaps consoling himself at my early marriage, and say “all Yoyce ever wanted to be was a wife and mother.” I’ve written about those sad, difficult, and tumultuous days before.  The dream became a nightmare of abuse, betrayal, and ultimate abandonment. 

I could tell you about all the dreams that have been dashed and crushed.  I spend a lot of time thinking about them of late.  I am reaching a major milestone birthday.  Yet, my father was right.  All I ever really wanted when I was a child was to be a wife and mother.  Maybe it was my generation.  We had so few options as women.  We could go to college if we couldn’t find a husband in high school and be a nurse or school teacher.  Or if we hadn’t prepared for college, we could work in the steno pool until a husband was secured.  It was an Ozzie and Harriet, Father Knows Best, and Donna Reed sort of world.  Mary Tyler Moore hadn’t told us you could be a single woman and be happy, she was still the dutiful wife of Dick Van Dyke.  None of those careers options appealed to me at 5, or 8, or even 14, when I carefully copied that quote.  I wanted to be Donna Reed caring for a family with her pearls on.

My childhood husband irreparably broke the vows we took in our teens.  Yet the vows I exchanged with my true soul mate are still intact.  In February, we will celebrate 34 years together.  I’ve given birth to and raised 8 children.    My daddy was right; all I ever wanted was to be a wife and mother.  Yes, I am living my childhood dream. 

Are You Living the Dream?

About once a year, I have a dinner party where I invite two couples and instruct them to each invite another couple who I wouldn’t know so we have 10 people around the table; two couples of which I am meeting for the first time. When the guests arrive, each guest is given a number which corresponds to a table seat and at every seat I’ve placed a question to ask another person; their evening’s mission is to find the answer. The questions vary from what is their most daring accomplishment to what type of animal do they best relate. It’s an evening my Man, who is an introvert, looks forward to every year (not) but his involvement is an incredible testament to how much I am loved.

My favourite question is to ask is to find out what their childhood dream was and if they are living their dream as an adult. This week on Kingdom Bloggers, I’ve posed the question to the others. I can’t wait to learn about the others, and while we’re sharing our childhood dreams, why don’t you answer the question in the comments.

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I was 5 years old when I understood there was a world outside of what I could experience. My older cousin had travelled to Sweden to go to Bible School and I made a vow in my heart I was going to go to Bible School in Sweden also. In grade 1, my teacher was making preparations to move to Holland following the school year and she told us many stories about the history and culture of Holland and I made a vow in my heart that I would go to Holland.

I also had aspirations of being a flight attendant; they were still called stewardess back then. I was fearless in travel and wanted to see the world. As soon as I graduated from high school, I left alone for Europe and my first stop was Holland. I attended Bible School in Austria so I didn’t make it to Sweden yet but I’m still young(ish). (I own furniture from IKEA, does that count?)

I stayed in Europe for a year – until my money ran out and I felt pressures from home to start my “real” life.  I’ve been grounded for almost 20 years but the Lord is renewing a thirst for travel, this time with the purpose of doing ministry. I’ve received several prophetic words that indicate travel and flight are in my future. As I child I reviled the thought of being a missionary, particularly to developing countries. It wasn’t that I didn’t care, but I don’t like being dirty. I still don’t like to be dirty but I see my mission not as long term but rather to make quick trips to leave a deposit to strengthen the church and its leaders and then exit.

Am I living my dream? If you asked me five years ago, I would have said no. Currently, it doesn’t look like I am but I have much anticipation the dreams I had as a child were God-given and where God gives a vision, he also provides the provision so I know I’m on my way.

What was your childhood dream? Is it still the same?

Rides, Wild Turkeys, UPS and Freedom

I was in High School and was invited to a party that included the “in” crowd. I was surprised I was invited but thrilled at the same time.  When I was there, I did what I normally did at that age, when I encountered situations that I felt inadequate about or wanted to “fit in” (don’t worry I didn’t do it yesterday!) and that is, I drank.


I know a lot of young people drink and it is not a big issue for them. But, unbeknownst to me, I had a physical  and genetic  predesposition to alcoholism.  I had already been drinking over 5 years and I can remember feeling proud that even guys would say “ Boy, you can really hold your liquor!” I thought that was a great compliment…I was in …I was noticed…I was cool.


This night, as I went to leave, this really kind boy told me that he thought he should follow me. I was driving alone and I welcomed the “protection” I don’t think designated drivers were in vogue in those days…so I know he notice my condition and was trying to help me. I can clearly remember it, as if it was today, how I drove.  I went very slow and used the utmost concentration, often looking in my rear view mirror to make sure he was following.


The next time he saw me, he told me that I was really drunk and I was all over the road…swerving here and there. I was truly shocked because I thought I had it under control (usually a wrong concept we can have about a lot of things).  I was embarrassed too…I felt I was caught and also that I let him down, as he was the one who invited me to the party.

Did I think, oh my gosh, I could have killed someone? No…did it even enter my mind, I could have crashed the car and got seriously injured or killed.  No. I was more worried about how I appeared to others.  He told me the truth though and in a way, it was a confrontation.


I wish I could say that, from that incident, I could see that alcohol already had the power over me, but I wasn’t ready to face the truth, yet.  There came a day, after much pain that I caused myself and put on my family…I was ready to admit that I was powerless over alcohol;. This past June, I celebrated 32 years of Sobriety…it was truly by the Grace of God. I went into treatment and joined AA and as they say…the rest is history.

Another, trip was a little jaunt down Main Street of my town. As I was approaching a stop sign, in the right lane of the 2 lanes, I noticed a UPS Truck parked in front of a store. The driver parked there, but his truck was partially in the lane I was in.  Depth perception has never been one of my strong points, but I ascertained that I had enough room to get by and by golly I could do ALL things through Christ who gives me strength. Not sure if that is really the prayer I prayed, but I know I uttered something…probably something like 


I know I can…
      I know I can…
             I know I can.  


As, I was right near the truck and thinking I had accomplished landing this plane ( my car) perfectly ( oh oh…there’s that word again).

WHACK…SQUEEL…CRUNCH!!!

The sound was unmistaken…Yikes I didn’t clear the narrow path!  He stared in unbelief.


I got out of the car, as the UPS guy came around the truck and we both stared in unbelief. I had not only hit the rear of the truck but my car was now hooked onto his bumper. It was not going to be a case of slowly baking up. He then came up with a brilliant idea. He said, with a lot of confidence that I am glad he had…” OK, I will go in the truck and rev the engine and go in reverse, as you do the same but go forward. He thought that would “un hook” us.

I liked this, a UPS man with confidence.

Well, by that time we had an audience at this intersection. I tried my best to follow what he said and was hopeful it would work.  Well, it happened all so fast…but it did work and I was free!


Putting my car in drive, pressing the pedal to the floor, off I went. I think I got caught up in the moment of being free.  When I got home and told my husband and son, they were like “ You just drove away? You did not exchange insurance info or anything?” they were incredulous.Half expecting a call from UPS Headquarters or the Police I waited. Remember there were a ton of witnesses.  As it turns up, I never got called and it would've been a hardship as our car insurance was $1000 deductible.


I thought this was God’s grace and accepted it as much. I WAS willing to face the consequences that never came.


The third leg of this journey is a time that I was speeding down a country road in one of the towns in CT, that I regularly traveled on.  I wish I could say that I was think deep thoughts about God, but I am pretty sure I was in a zone.  All of a sudden…

TWACK and BOOM…

before my eyes, in the windshield line of vision, was a huge bird. It's black feathers blowing all over the place I had NO idea what I hit but I plowed into this bird and his brother. His brother continued into the woods, I am sure thinking  "This woman is crazy!”.


It happened so fast, I wasn’t sure if I ran over the bird, when it slid down my hood or what happened. As I looked in my rear view mirror…he still was walking, albeit, slowly. I also am sure he thought I was not only crazy but a violent maniac.


I was shaking a lot and pulled my car over to the side of the road to gather myself.  Soon, a policeman came by to ask if I was ok. I was still “under the influence of bird maiming”. He held back his laughter, I am sure and suggested I stay there for a while till I was less shaken up.  One thing I found out about these birds from him, was who they were. I thought they were doo-doo (pronounced dough-dough) birds. I had a nun in grammar school who called all students that she thought were inept or stupid (her judgment)…doo-doo birds.
This all came back to me when I hit them.  The Trooper said if that they were Wild Turkeys. Well, unbeknown to me…they could fly…well not too high…yes only as high as my hood.

As I was sitting there I thought of a couple of things, I left the house kind of depressed and this sure shook things up for me. Then I took this as kind of a “sign”. I am not sure how y’all feel about “signs” from our ordinary world around us and God speaking to us through these. Well, I was in the midst of a messy personal situation and I just felt like these birds, in a way in that, I am going about my own business…being me…and this person is just plowing through the path…speeding and having NO thought for anyone else except THEIR destination. You see I keep blaming myself and asking myself incessantly…could I do something different??? Was I wrong??? Am I just seeing the truth and yet am thinking all along that I am only judging? Well I got my answer that day and I was freed. 


Well, all these combined, may lead you to believe that perhaps this… I should not be driving…at the very least , you should be warned about when I am on the road.

I’d love the company…I just steer clear of drinking, avoid UPS trucks and granting the right of way to wild turkeys.