As my grandfather once said, “I hate thievin’!” Or “He is as crooked as a barrel of snakes!” He was describing not only those who steal money but also the sneaky, untrustworthy, dishonest folks who freely walk among us.

Years ago, someone came into my office and stole checks from the back of my company’s checkbook.  I didn’t notice they were missing until my payment to the IRS bounced. 

Fear gripped me as I quickly drove to the bank.  Sure enough, a gang of crooked snakes threw me into a tailspin.   They forged my name, emptied my bank account, and slithered on down the road.   The bank refunded my money, the IRS didn’t put me in jail, but the gang just kept right on stealing, unable to be found in their hibernation holes.

Con artists and scammers cause significant problems for hardworking people trying to provide for their families, often by escaping accountability for their actions.  Law enforcement agencies typically lack the resources to pursue all these deceitful individuals since they don’t inflict physical harm.  Given their limited staffing, it is understandable that violent crimes are a priority. 

Those who “get away”

However, what type of destruction can swindlers cause?  For the working family living paycheck to paycheck and trying to pay their monthly bills honestly, the devastation that evil causes can upend lives.  

How does one lose the ability to care for others?  One evil deed at a time will cause the death of a soul.

Companies that “get away with” misleading clients, profit from misinformation, and rely on fine print are no better than the other inhabitants of the barrel.

I live in a community of cluster homes where the houses are approximately 20 feet apart.  A year ago, we experienced a severe hailstorm with hailstones the size of golf balls that battered our homes.  Our community became the epicenter of the storm and was featured on local television news.  For 30 minutes, we rushed to the interior of our homes as it sounded like bullets were flying against the windowpanes.

Ice covered the green lawns, topped with branches and leaves.  All the roofs had sustained damage, including the gutters and metal flashing.  Roofing contractors knocked on doors, aware that many residents needed their expertise due to the storm.  While most of them were genuinely looking for work, a deceitful person was lurking among them.  That lowly reptile crawled away with almost half a million dollars.

After one year, most homes have new roofs due to their insurance companies.  However, some homeowners, who experienced the same hailstorm, were denied coverage.

I find it both amusing and somewhat sad that hail seemed to fall exclusively on those with one insurance company, while it clearly avoided those insured by another.  Have you ever seen rain, snow, or hail bypass houses based on their insurance coverage?

Ill-begotten gain

A recent exposé by the Wall Street Journal revealed that denial rates at certain insurance companies have risen over the past decade.  Despite homeowners paying high premiums for coverage, nearly 50% of claims are closed without payment.  While I won’t name the companies that are not fulfilling their claims responsibilities, it’s easy to find this information with a quick search.

While the catastrophic damage from severe weather and fires has led to increased insurance claim payouts, it does not excuse the unfair practices of many companies and the impact on American lives.

Tall towers of glass looming over a city can become a barrel of snakes.

The constant advertising on the internet enticing us to buy American clothing made in China, the fraudulent credit card companies requesting our personal information, and the hackers who steal our identities should all face jail time.  Unfortunately, we don’t have enough prison space to accommodate all the non-murderous, yet malicious individuals out there.

The only protection we have is ourselves.  We must educate ourselves, conduct research, read the fine print, and safeguard against pure greed.  Before hiring a contractor, make sure to check their credentials.  Verify licenses, ask for recommendations, and examine their previous work. Don’t learn the hard way that snakes cannot build or repair anything properly.

Guard against greed by reviewing insurance companies’ payout percentages.  Be cautious of misleading advertisements and appeals.  How often have these companies appeared before Congress or in court for unfair or bad faith practices?

Yes, there are many thieves in the world.  Some live in mansions, while others reside in alleys.  Some hold high positions of power, while others reject authority altogether.  However, they all share a common trait: the profits they deceitfully acquire will ultimately leave them with nothing.

My grandfather was an honest man, and when he died, I knew exactly where he went.  You see, heaven isn’t filled with barrels of snakes.

“What will profit a man if he gains the whole world, yet forfeits his soul?” Matthew 16:26

“We are all going to Pigeon Forge for Memorial Day weekend!  Yes, we are taking three children under 10 years old, their parents, and us for a long weekend,” my husband announced one day in March. 

Immediately, I thought, “No one in their right mind would go to Dolly’s place on Memorial Day!  The traffic will be horrible, the crowds horrendous, and the accommodations scarce.”

Yes, I became the mental downer in the plan.  The good thing is that I mostly kept my mouth shut… mostly.

The minute we entered the Great Smoky Mountains, the rain engulfed us, and traffic was bumper to bumper.  My sweet mind wanted to shout, “I told you so!” But I figured lightning would surely crash through the closed sunroof and strike me dead. 

But a funny thing happened on the way to visit Dolly and her rides, shows, and adventures: the rain stopped.  It rained everywhere else in the South that weekend, but not at Dollywood’s theme parks.  I do believe Dolly is an angel, so perhaps she truly does have connections with the big guy.

The crowds were sparse, the kids rode every ride, cheered with joy, and indulged in all the sugar-fueled goodies available.

 The whole time, I expected a tree to fall on the car or a child to overdose on gummy worms, but to my surprise, nothing happened.  So, Miss Gloom and Doom had to admit she was wrong and they were all right.  I hate that part. 

A curious boy

On the last day, we were at the water park when the clouds began to gather, and fatigue settled into our bones, David and I decided to go back to our rental home. 

The youngest boy, who was 7, chose to come with us

Wes is a curious little guy.  His all-American looks and toothless grin disguise his intelligence.  His first words must have been “Why? “and “How?”

Weston and I sat on the front porch steps, where he watched the road for the others to return.  I needed to distract him, so I decided to check his spelling, math, and reading skills.  I was amazed at how well he did!

This little teaching session lasted about 10 minutes.  Then I simply asked, “Wes, what do you want to talk about?  Do you have things on your mind?”

 He looked up at me with an inquisitive, serious expression and said, “God.”

“What do you want to know about God?” I asked.

“Well, who made Him and how did He begin?” Before responding, I silently asked God, “Oh, Lord, HELP!”

“Wes, everything has a beginning and an end.  God was the beginning, and He will be the end.”

Whew, that seemed to work.  But there was more.

“Well, Grandma, do I have to be good all the time to go to heaven?  How do I get there?”

“Son, nobody can be good all the time.  We all make mistakes, but the neat thing about God is that He forgives us if we ask.  The way to get to heaven is to know and love God first and foremost.  When you do, being as good as we can seems easier somehow.”

“Grandma, why do bad things happen?  Why would God hurt people?”

Suddenly, I wished I had my minister on speed dial!

“Wes, we don’t live in paradise; we must seek it.  This whole life thing is just a test to see how we handle our freedom to make decisions and find God, even though we cannot see Him.”

Hearing a voice

“Have you ever heard Him speak?” Wes questioned.

“Actually, I did, one time a long time ago.  Nobody believes me, but I know for sure it was a voice I had never heard before. 

Weston’s eyes grew wide as I told the story.

I was seventeen when I learned that my grandfather had died suddenly in Tennessee.   He was a strong, beloved, and wonderful man, so it was quite a blow.

It was in the wee hours of the morning when my parents and I finally headed up to the Tennessee mountains.   I was tired, and the car was quiet when I loudly and sternly heard, “Lynn, you will be the one who takes care of your grandmother!”

“Daddy, what did you say?”

“I didn’t say anything,” he replied.

“Mama, did you hear that man?”

“Honey, no one said anything.  Were you dreaming?”

“No.”

Years later, my grandmother said to me tearfully, “You were the one who helped me the most.”

After I told the seven-year-old my story, he responded,

“Grandma, I believe you.”

I almost cried.

Dollywood had the rides, kind weather, and gummy bears, but sometimes it’s the quiet moments, the curious kids who want to know things, and the God who controls it all that make the days just plain beautiful.

Many unknown war heroes go unrecognized, lacking statues or large granite crypts.  Their graves span our nation and are often marked with a small American flag placed next to the headstone.  These tombstones may simply bear their name, date of birth, date of death, and the word “Veteran.”

These Americans served their country in places most citizens will never understand.  Yet, their active service did not claim their lives.  After the gunfire ceased and they returned home, their battles continued until they were finally laid to rest beneath American soil.

It was an incredible honor to be asked to speak at a Vietnam Memorial Day ceremony recently.  My connection to these valiant warriors began with a column I wrote in 2019.  It felt as though the words were inspired by a higher power, as the story resonated across the nation.  This was necessary, not to highlight my achievement, but to celebrate the recognition that these Vietnam Veterans truly deserved.

 The event took place in a park that featured a Vietnam Memorial erected last year.  As I began to deliver my message, I noticed two bronze soldiers standing behind me.  I was extremely nervous before speaking because I didn’t want to disappoint these beloved veterans.

As the crowd gathered, I felt a deep sense of humility as I shook hands with men and women who sacrificed so much in battle but were often forgotten by the nation upon their return.

After finishing my speech, I gazed at the two bronze soldiers behind the podium and realized that, although they were merely symbols, the spirits of the fallen warriors had comforted and strengthened me throughout it.

I shared with the crowd that my brother died in 1998 from cancer caused by a carcinogen he brought home from his Navy service in Vietnam.  Many others who served alongside him faced the same fate.

Afterward, I began to wonder how many Vietnam veterans died after returning home due to their service.

Sad Statistics

During the Vietnam War, a total of 58,220 soldiers were killed.  It is estimated that an additional 300,000 have died as a result of their service during the war.  Many of these individuals succumbed to the effects of Agent Orange, while others were affected by PTSD.  Some passed away from war-related injuries in the years following the conflict.

When I read the statistics, I cried.

 My brother’s small grave marker is located in the Tennessee mountain town where we were born.  It reads simply, “Lt. John E. Walker, Vietnam Veteran.” Even though the war took him from us earlier than many, he would be proud of his service.  When “Taps” is played and the 21-gun salute startles my calm, a part of me breaks.

The silence of gunfire does not mean the Vietnam War is over.

Including the Iraq War and the war in Afghanistan, 7,055 service members were killed in battle.  However, 30,170 veterans died by suicide.  Thousands more suffered severe injuries and were exposed to harmful chemicals, leading to long-term disabilities.

Shockingly, since 2001, 140,000 U.S. veterans have died by suicide.  The mental health of our soldiers and the care they need and deserve should be a top priority.

Those who have served our nation must be remembered every day, not just on Veterans Day or Memorial Day.

The silence that follows gunfire does not mean any war is over.

Real issues

Politicians often seek our votes by emphasizing divisive issues such as transgender athletes, redistricting, the stock market, gun control, and immigration.  These topics can lead to strong opinions about party politics.  However, one issue that should never be polarizing is the treatment and support of our soldiers.  Without their sacrifices, we wouldn’t have anything to vote for or against.

As I looked out at the veterans gathered before me, I noticed a 93-year-old widow sitting in the front row.  Her husband, who passed away several years ago, was the highest-ranking Army officer captured in Vietnam.  Col. Benjamin H. Purcell endured more than five years in a dark, dank prison, fully understanding that freedom has a cost he was willing to pay.

Before we enjoy our BBQs and lakes this Memorial Day, please take a moment to reflect on the numbers.  Feel a sense of shame, an abundance of gratitude, and decide to take action.  Contact your government representatives and consider donating to various charities that support our veterans, as they truly need our help.  America needs them.

To all those who continue to suffer from battles long after the wars have ended: keep fighting to breathe, live, and love.  Memorial Day is not only about remembering the dead.  It is about refusing to abandon the living.  Because the silence after gunfire does not mean the war is over.

Donate:   Vietnam Veterans of America

                Wounded Warrior Project

                Gary Sinise Foundation

These are just a few of the organizations that offer assistance to Veterans.

Someone is going to crash their car into the library down the street!  Not because they are reckless – but because they are trying to vote.

Residents are fearful that the busy road leading to the county library will soon be closed to traffic due to the hundreds of leaning, layered, multi-colored campaign signs.  So many candidates smile from every direction, promising everything from lower taxes to better sunsets.   The one that reads, TRUST ME!” boasts the best and boldest font.

Then the inevitable happens.

A silver-haired woman driving a red Mercedes, inches forward like a kid lost in a political obstacle maze.  She jerks left to avoid a “Vote Early” sign.  Then she swerves right and into a “Save America!” banner.  Next, she mows down 44 tiny American flags before parking in the county library’s fiction section.

Naturally, news crews rush to the chaotic scene.  They shove a microphone near a toddler’s mouth, hoping for a comment.  The three-year-old boy instead removes his sucker and sticks out his lime-green tongue. 

The shocked and trembling Mercedes owner stands next to the policeman, who is trying to take her statement.

How’d it happen?

“Ma’am, he says, stepping over a fallen ‘Vote for Me!’ sign that has somehow made it indoors, “Can you explain what happened?”

She nods, still clutching a sample ballot and a Romance novel that landed in her hands titled, “I Fell in Love with a Governor.”

“Well, officer, I was trying to read all the signs so I could make an informed decision.  But then one said “Honesty”, and another said ‘Experience.”  Then there was one with a picture of a pretty woman holding an American flag, which felt important… and by the time I decided who seemed the nicest, I was already in the biographies section.”

 The officer scribbles her information down as if all she said was vital to his investigation.

By noon, the crash is no longer the lead story.  The real headline is that Candidate #32 has quickly added 43 more signs farther down the street and is now polling stronger among undecided drivers.

As voters arrive at the polling place—provided they make it there without any incidents—they are welcomed by volunteers, numerous signs, and at least one inflatable bald eagle.  Once inside the voting booth, the noise and chaos fade for a moment.  However, one voter, after carefully studying his ballot, peeked out to ask the volunteer, “Do you have a version with pictures?”

Another voter admits he chose his candidate based on “consistency of branding.”

He explained, “Yep, I saw his name 127 times on the way here.  Seems like he wanted it more.”

And there it is.

It’s on us

Somewhere along the way, we decided that being seen is the same thing as being known.  That repetition equals truth.  That the loudest voice in the yard must be the strongest one in the room.  It says we have confused familiarity with trust, repetition with truth, and volume with virtue.

Campaign strategists understand this concept well: “If you’ve seen me, you’ve heard me.” This approach is gaining popularity, especially among those who are too overwhelmed to remember what candidates actually stand for.

I often say that election years tend to insult our intelligence with the advertisements, signs, and rhetoric used by many candidates.  I have never been fond of snake oil and usually avoid it, yet many people believe it can cure all the world’s problems.  However, it does not.

Many voters, including me, feel exhausted by the partisan maneuvers and carnival shows put on by those seeking our favor.

We must take the time to dig deep and take that precious vote seriously by researching candidates’ records, listening to their debates, and asking tough questions.  When we stop expecting more out of our candidates without doing our part, we stop getting meaningful leadership.

Choose carefully

Perhaps someday, the signs will give way to clarity, and candidates will trust voters enough to offer something meaningful beyond slogans, signs, and vitriol.

That day doesn’t arrive on its own.

It shows up when voters decide recognition isn’t enough… that their signs don’t equal character… and that a name we’ve seen too many times still ought to stand for something.

Until then, we’ll keep making our way to the polls through a forest of promises, some bold, some hollow, all competing for attention and praying for our vote.

So, if you’re heading out to vote, take your time. 

Just remember, once you arrive at the library, don’t just read the signs; make sure you read between them.

  A sign is easy to plant, character isn’t.   

I’ve never been able to accept the idea that Heaven is quiet.  

When my father died, I didn’t imagine him simply at rest.  I imagined him searching for the perfect pecan pie and ice cream.

Grief is a challenging experience, and there is no remedy to alleviate the pain.  Losing a loved one turns our lives upside down.  Most people have felt profound heartache at some point.  Animals also experience grief; for instance, hearing the mournful cry of a mother elephant who has lost her young can break your heart.

My mother always told me, “Honey, you have a wildly vivid imagination!”

As a child, I escaped into a pretend world with my dolls and stuffed animals, and any sorrow I felt would disappear.  When I was lonely, I would hug my big stuffed bear, and we would talk.  I imagined that one day I would be swept off my feet by a kind Prince Charming, though I finally realized that most of them exist only at the end of a book.

I believe my mother thought I would outgrow my dreams, but I never did.  I’m grateful because my ability to envision things has given me a clearer perspective on life – and on loss.

I see Heaven

Losing a loved one is incredibly difficult, but I have faith that God will make them whole again in another place.  I don’t just believe in Heaven – I can see it.

During one of my usual summer visits with Grandpa (my grandmother), I woke up after a particularly vivid dream.

  “Grandpa,” I said, “last night I dreamed that you and I were on top of a hill covered in the lushest grass imaginable.  It was so soft that I didn’t need to wear shoes.  There were no rocks or weeds – just perfectly even, vibrant green grass.  You were beside me, and we started running down the hill barefoot!”

Then I added, “But you were different.  You were the same age as me!  It was a happy dream!”

Without hesitation, my grandmother took my hands and said, “Lynn, you just caught a glimpse of heaven.”

To this day, I believe she was right.   I’m certain that one day I will run down that heavenly hill with Grandpa.  And I have a feeling my competitive Mom will beat us to the bottom – and laugh about it.

To me, death is not an end, but a continuation of life in God’s presence.  There is no need to wish or hope, as those concepts will become irrelevant.  Heaven is a place without suffering or sorrow, where distrust, hatred, and pain no longer exist.    It is a place we all long for, whether we realize it or not.  

When people of faith are asked what they envision when they think of their friends and family in Heaven, their answers vary.  Some say, “I see my loved one at peace, free from suffering.” Others say, “They are resting with the Lord.”  

The vision of peace

I’ve come to understand that we all picture it differently.  For me, this is the vision that brings peace.

If you find yourself in need of hope or comfort, try visualizing your loved one doing something they truly loved.   See them as whole, complete, healed, and filled with joy, basking in God’s perfect light. 

I see my dad, finally not losing another golf ball, while my mom tries to keep him away from the pecan pie before dinner.  My brother is at the VFW, laughing with his comrades who served alongside him in Vietnam.  My grandfather is likely questioning God about something he found in the Bible.  Aunt Ruth is tending to her yellow roses, Grandpa is growing gladiolas, and her mom, Mollie, is planting beans in her garden.  Granny Rose plays hymns on her old pump organ as Jesus stops by for a visit.

In the evening, they all gather as the setting sun washes the land in gold, praising the Lord for the gift of life in Heaven, where grief is absent and tomorrow lasts forever.

Sometimes, when I find myself in a quiet place, I can clearly see those who have passed.  I hear their whispers reminding me of the stories shared and the lessons learned. 

Grief often needs something tangible to hold on to.  How many times does the Bible remind us about reuniting with our loved ones and that for those who believe, death is not the end?  Yet, we often doubt, allowing our human nature to cloud our vision.

C.S. Lewis once wrote, “To enter heaven is to become more human than you ever succeeded in being on earth.”

And when grief reaches for hope, I find it at the bottom of that heavenly hill.  

Wars rage across the world, but our most important battle may be right here at home, not on foreign soil – but within our own hearts, our institutions, and our communities.

Are we at war with ourselves?  Has the pursuit of power and profit begun to overshadow the values that once held us together?

History reminds us that great civilizations often decline not just from external threats, but from within – through division, excess, and a loss of humility and shared purpose.  If a nation focuses more on comfort and riches than on long-term infrastructure and education, it abandons the future.  When a country forgets what it stands for, it begins to weaken long before it fails.

Does any of this sound familiar?

We don’t have to look far to see the clear signs of greed.  In corporate America, loyalty is often overshadowed by an intense focus on profit.  In the past, employees believed that hard work and dedication would lead to stability and respect.  Today, many feel expendable, wondering if a machine or supercomputer could replace them at any moment.

That shift has taken a toll.  It has created a quiet anxiety and growing distrust, leaving people to question whether commitment and their value still matter.

The phrase, “it’s just business!” now often implies, “we just don’t care.”

Who are the winners and losers?

Take a drive through almost any city, and you’ll witness the stark and widening imbalance of wealth in America.  Roll down the window and notice neighborhoods of immense wealth just miles from areas of deep struggle.

Saturday afternoon, turn on a college football game, and you’ll see athletes switching loyalties as quickly as contracts change hands.  What once felt rooted in pride and tradition now often feels driven by opportunity and money.

Even in our communities and families, something feels different.  Youth sports hold practices and events on Sunday morning.  I often question,  “Is this to benefit the children or the parents?  Competition sometimes overshadows character and faith.  We must ask ourselves: what are we really teaching the next generation about what matters most?  Is winning a game more important than possibly opening heaven’s doors?

In speaking of the importance of faith, we must be careful.  No political party owns righteousness.  No individual has the authority to measure another’s belief.  That is not our role; it belongs solely to God.  Humility, not superiority, is the bedrock of faith.

Politics, especially in our local sphere, is becoming increasingly challenging.  We are entering an era where attack ads and divisive campaigns are widespread.  Candidates with the most resources can amplify the loudest voices, often preying on people’s frustrations rather than inspiring hope.  Why do we permit harsh campaign ads to perpetuate negativity among us?  Are we not wiser than that?

When winning takes precedence over serving the community, everyone loses.

Weapons or values?

We should not support leaders who thrive on division or who abandon the basic principles of respect, fairness, and decency.  Leadership should unite, not fracture.  It should elevate, not inflame.

We are at our best when we remember our true identity and the purpose we are to fulfill.  Our intent is not to thrive in greed, wallow in negativity, or fade away in anger.

The reality is that wealth and success, by themselves, are temporary.  Businesses can rise and fall, homes will age, and recognition will eventually fade.  Winning can turn into a loss, and scores will be forgotten.  None of these achievements provides lasting fulfillment; they offer only brief moments of celebration.

I know individuals of great means who truly understand this principle.  They live simply, give generously, and carry themselves with quiet humility.  Their wealth is not measured in dollars but in character.  The richest lives are built not on material accumulation but on compassion, integrity, and purpose.

Perhaps what we need now is not more success, but more reflection.

We need leaders who can guide us out of this cycle of division, greed, power struggles, and short-term thinking. We must believe that positive change is possible through collective effort because it builds trust and motivates action.

In the end, this conflict is not fought with weapons; rather, it is a battle of values.

  If we want the United States of America to thrive, we must resolve the war within.

At the beginning of our Sunday church services, we sign an attendance sheet that meanders down the aisle.  I was at the end, so I quickly signed our name, address, and membership status.  They had added a question in the last space on the right: “Your God sightings.”

It reminded me of a time when I changed doctors and had to fill out a complex form.  Have you noticed that when they ask for family history, they give you a space about the size of a toothpick?

The doctor’s questionnaire asked, “Who in your family has or had heart disease?” They wanted the names in that tiny space, which was impossible.  I needed an entire page.  So, I solved the problem by writing in tiny print: “Everybody but my Mama!”

When the doctor came in, he was reading my history and burst out laughing.  “You know, that’s how I’m going to answer that question when it is asked!”

I was glad I could help him out.

So, when I saw the question about my recent God sightings, I started filling in the gaps left by others.

“I see God when I look at a cross, or see a newborn child, or a flower blooming…”

But the preacher started preaching, and I realized I might need to wrap it up.  So, I ended with: “I see God everywhere.”

How much does $19.99 cost?

Recognizing God’s presence in everyday moments can inspire gratitude and awe.

But do other folks not see Him?

He got in the car with me the other day.  Sure did!  I needed to return a blouse at Marshalls and save $19.99.  I pulled into a parking space next to a shiny, pearl-white Tesla.

As usual, I was careful opening my door to avoid hitting another car.  Just as I did, a sudden wind gust—felt like a small tornado—rushed between my Subaru and that pretty, little, expensive car.  The wind yanked the door from my hand and slammed it into the side of what was probably the nicest car in the lot.

The rain started pouring as I sat there, wondering what to do.

I could leave, couldn’t I?  The owner might never notice the gray paint and the dent on his back door… right?

I could rush away, forget the $19.99, and maybe not even mention it at home.  Who would believe the wind caused it anyway? 

Just as I was about to rev my engine and follow that devilish thought home, the Lord opened my passenger door and sat down.  Scared the devil right out of me!

“Now, Lynn…you know I saw that wind.  And I heard that door slam.  Do you really want to drive away with Me sitting in the car?”

Well, I got caught again.

You and Mr. Tesla

I dug around for a pen and paper to leave a note.  Would you believe the only piece of paper I could find was a church program?    I tucked it under the Tesla’s windshield wiper and drove home without returning the blouse.

Mr. Tesla turned out to be a very kind man.  He knew the weather had been terrible and thanked me for my honesty.  A few days later, with proper paperwork, I sent him a check for quite a bit more than $19.99.

If that had happened when I was a single mother with very limited funds, would I have done the same thing?

Honestly, I’m not sure.

I loved God back then, too.  I pray I would have done the same thing, but I might have needed an 8-year payment plan at $19.99 per month, with no new blouses.

God sightings happen often, but we sometimes ignore them.  Not because we don’t see—but because we don’t always want to know what He’s thinking or what He’s trying to correct within us.

Even when we clearly see Him in the front seat, it can be hard to respond.

But He’s there.

And usually, when we do what we know is right, we are blessed.

God was all around that parking lot that day—as He is every day.  He is in the hospital bringing new life into the world, in the rain falling on spring flowers, and was on the cross when His Son suffered.

He is with you and Mr. Tesla as well.

Turns out, God sightings don’t need a lot of space to write down.

Just a little honesty.

A little courage.

And maybe…a church program when that’s all you’ve got.

Because once you start looking, you’ll see Him everywhere—

In the big things.

In the small things.

Even in the moments you’d rather avoid.

And sometimes…

He’s already riding shotgun.

When I think of war, I imagine the terror rising in a child.  She lies in her bed, listening to the sounds of a battle she does not understand.  Her pillow covers her head to muffle the noise of sirens and explosions.  “Will I be here tomorrow?” is the question that whirls in her mind as she fights to sleep.  “If I go to sleep, will I feel the pain of dying?”

Neither I nor any American child truly understands the nightmares experienced by the children of war.  As conflicts causing suffering and death are ravaging our world, it is crucial to pause and remember the innocent. 

From Ukraine and Russia to the Middle East, we witness the devastation caused by war.  We see the starving children in Gaza, the families huddled in bomb shelters, and all those who are struggling for survival. 

Most of us have never fallen asleep to the sound of sirens or awoken with the fear of losing a child before morning.  For many Americans, war is a distant reality.  For millions, it is part of their lives.

Grasp hands

Currently, as conflicts spread, we are reminded that war is a real, human, and heartbreaking experience for far too many.  In times like this – both abroad and at home – we need to grasp hands.  We should focus less on internal cultural strife and more on what unites us: our compassion for human suffering.

When our personal space is calm, our citizens often find ways to disrupt that peace.  We may argue about financial issues, politics, or religion.  While we don’t literally point cannons at one another, we certainly point fingers.  In doing so, we forget about the real battles that cause bloodshed and bring grief to entire nations.

Evil surrounds us, and we are not immune to its influence.  It grows from the seeds of bias, the thirst for power, and an abundance of greed.  To prevent hatred from igniting conflict in America, we must embrace our faith and expand our appreciation for freedom.

I don’t believe that the average American intends to be unkind, but we can often come across as harsh.  A quick look at social media reveals that negativity can spread easily through our words.  With so many conflicts happening in the world, we certainly don’t need to start personal battles among ourselves.

 It is very difficult to walk in another person’s shoes when all you own are designer sneakers.  It is hard to be humble when you have never experienced humility.  How can we comprehend hunger when our plate is full?   The child, nestled in her warm bed at night, cannot truly grasp the fear of another child who worries whether she will wake up tomorrow.

It is time to reach across the rivers, pastures, and streets of America and become friends.  Unite to forge not only a great nation, but a compassionate one.  Let’s show the world our might not through powerful weapons, but through our hearts.

Let her sleep in peace

All of us suffer at times.  We grieve, we cry, and we face loss, yet we still have a warm place to call home.  How blessed we are to have that security.

While Americans debate around our kitchen tables, families in war-torn regions run to shelters.  While we count votes, those families count their children.  While we still hold on to hope, others find themselves without any.

Considering the safety provided by our ancestors and soldiers, the least we can do is lower our voices, steady our hearts, and reach for one another rather than push each other away.

War reminds us how fragile life is.  If we only had one day left to live, would we be grateful for the days we experienced, or angry about the tomorrows we will not see?   What if we never had a choice or opportunity to complete our lives because war took that away from us?

Tonight, in many parts of the world, a child will fall asleep to the sound of explosions, while American children will sleep in quiet rooms. That is not something to boast about; it is something we must protect.  

We cannot stop every war overseas, but we can choose not to wage one at home.

Let us be the nation that softens its voice before raising a fist.  Let us be the people who hold hands in turmoil – not because we agree on everything, but because we understand what truly matters.

Let our children lie peacefully in their beds.

It’s confession time: I believe I can do anything. Sometimes this mindset benefits me, but at other times, it does not.

Years ago, when I owned an older house situated on a hill, I decided it was time to remove the small pine trees that crowded my front yard. While the privacy the trees provided was nice, looking out my front window at a growing forest was not appealing. Additionally, I was concerned that some unwanted critters might be hiding among the pines.

It was a cloudy Saturday morning when I rented a chainsaw from the local Rent-A-Tool down the road. I could tell the young man at the counter thought I was picking it up for my husband to use to chop down the trees. However, since I didn’t have a husband or any male relatives nearby, I put on my boots and overalls, armed with the chainsaw, and was ready to tackle the forest myself.

Now, you may ask, “Had you ever used a chainsaw before?” No, I had not.   However, believing I could do anything, I was sure I could operate a silly little chainsaw. 

Since I was on a steep hill and the rain began to pour, I decided it would be safer to sit on the ground while cutting the pines. Eventually, I managed to clear the forest and cut the limbs without lopping off one of my own.

Another dumb decision

I returned to Rent-A-Tool by the end of the day, drenched, muddy, and with aching muscles in places I didn’t know existed. I handed the evil tool back to the same young man, and his eyes widened as he looked into mine. “Ma’am, did you use this chainsaw yourself?” he asked. A crowd of other renters began to stare at my horrific, dirty appearance.

I replied with a chuckle, “Yes, sir, I did! It was just another one of those dumb decisions I frequently make!”

The crowd laughed at the same moment my guardian angel submitted her retirement notice. I’ve had a number of these angels come and go, and I think God must assign a newcomer to my case each time. I can just imagine Him saying, “Angel #1,005, you are assigned your first test case. Her name is Lynn. Go down there, but be careful—she has a penchant for chainsaws, rickety ladders, and climbing on roofs to clean gutters. You never know what she will try next, because that child never asks for help!”

Less than a year ago, my church invited me to serve as the Church Council secretary. Although I was a new member of the congregation, I felt honored to accept the role. After all, if I can write stories, columns, and books, how difficult could it be to take the minutes?

It was another chainsaw moment. As hard as I tried, I realized I was not the secretary my fine church needed. Now, if they needed a tree chopped down, I do have experience.

Inherited stubbornness

Sometimes we must admit we’re not cut out for every job.  It may sting a little, but that’s often where growth begins.

I attribute some of my stubbornness and unyielding pride to my Appalachian roots.

Most of the women were strong and independent. Many were widows who plowed the fields and raised children on their own. I don’t know a single woman on my mother’s side of the family who wasn’t as stubborn as the mules they owned. 

If you offered to help any of them, they most likely would shoo you away with the flyswatter.

For some of us, ‘I need help’ may be the hardest sentence in the English language.

My analysis now is that a “chainsaw moment” is the belief that I can succeed without proper training or support. Imagine if I had injured myself while cutting down trees with a tool I didn’t fully understand. How would I work, provide for my children, or handle basic chores? My refusal to seek help could have caused significant pain and hardship for both my family and me for months.

God created us to support one another as brothers and sisters. Our loving heavenly Father understood that we would often require assistance. Sometimes, our angels come in the form of friends and family who are eager to help.

God has given us individual talents and abilities to enhance our lives and those around us. That is how we serve Him.

Sometimes, our pride can cut the best of us.  There’s no shame in putting the chainsaw down.

My mother was a fierce competitor.  She won countless tournaments, not only in basketball but also in tennis and golf.  On top of all that, she was her high school’s valedictorian and a bridge champion.

Living with a genius every day can be challenging.  By the time I learned to tie my shoes, I realized that I would never be as smart as my mom.  She was truly one of a kind, and Dad and I felt lucky to be in her orbit.

Dad once said, “The smartest thing I ever did was marry your Mom because she was smart!!!”  He would laugh every time he repeated the phrase.  Truth be told, he had so much common sense that she was able to stay home with her children her entire life.  Dad knew how to work hard and treat folks well. 

My brother and I would often wonder, “How did they ever get together?  They are so different!”  But as the saying goes, opposites can attract.    And anyone who knew our parents could see that was true.

I love sports, but when I find myself playing golf and the little white ball doesn’t go in the direction I want, I can throw a hissy fit.  In those moments, I hear a voice from above admonishing me.  It’s Mom, shaking her head in disgust.  “Lynn, behave!  It’s not about winning; it’s about how you play the game.” 

The competitor

Mom excelled at all games.  She never lost her composure and always remained calm enough to correct her mistakes and continue playing without any outbursts.

I may not be very smart, but I have improved my temper control.  I realized that I could easily upset those who played with me.  Additionally, I was growing tired of the judgmental gaze from above.

I’ve been thinking, which you know is dangerous.  Mama was right about many things in life.  Living a full life is about how we play the game.  Are we willing to lose in order to win?  Can we sacrifice our gratification for the benefit of others?

In golf, there are so many rules that most players don’t know or understand half of them.  If you cheat by moving the ball forward or improving your lie, your score will be affected.  But what if you moved the ball and no one saw you?  Your score might improve, but in that case, you lost the true essence of the game. 

Our children are growing up in a highly competitive world where there is often little time for play and imagination.  Achievement in various areas is frequently seen as the ultimate goal.  However, if we do not teach our children that acquiring success without humility and understanding is worse than failing, we all miss the mark.  By often prioritizing creativity over competition, we may help our children thrive and flourish in the future

Young children often cry when they do not win the prize, and some adults still do.  In our current society, there is a significant focus on winning, but true success comes from participating in the game with composure and grace.  

We tell our children not to bully, not to lie, not to demean others – yet every election season we reward adults who do exactly that.  If we cheer cruelty because it advances our side, we are teaching the next generation that winning matters more than integrity.  And that lesson will cost us.

How you win

After the Super Bowl, Seahawks coach Mike Macdonald was asked, “Do you ever yell at your players?  His response was, “No, I am not a yeller.” This approach may have contributed to their victory. Coach Macdonald proved you can triumph without yelling … that dignity still works.  Intelligence and control led them to win the big game, a gigantic ring, and a shiny trophy.   

To be a champion in life, one must embrace the values of human kindness.   We are not true champions when we degrade others to achieve success.  A CEO is not successful if he belittles his subordinates.  He may increase his wealth, but not without a price.  

Toward the end of my mother’s life, I asked her what she thought about God.  She never spoke openly about her faith, and even though we attended church, she kept her beliefs very private.

“Well, I don’t know what to tell you other than I hope I pleased the Lord.    I never judged anyone and believed in fairness.  I think I played the game well.”

Initially, I found the response puzzling, but I soon realized it encapsulates the essence of life: to please the Lord by navigating our journey with integrity, kindness, and respect.  This is the path we can all take to achieve true victory.

Thanks, Mom!