It was 1950-something when Grandpa (my grandmother) and I usually went into town on Saturday mornings.   I always adored visiting the small Tennessee mountain town where she resided.   

Before she bought groceries, we would swing by the local five-and-dime for candy or a small toy.  Sometimes, we went to the department store to look at shoes.  Grandpa loved shoes as much as I loved candy.  But as I look back, we loved each other more than money could buy.

The town square centered around the courthouse where men gathered to whittle and talk about religion, politics, or how the crops fared during the harsh winter.  Their pipe smoke filled the air with hazy circles as they tried to solve the world’s problems.  And when I was very young, I believed they could. 

It wasn’t until the 1950s turned to the early 1960s that I noticed only white folks sitting around the courthouse.  In fact, I recall seeing only our race around town.

“Grandpa, why are there only white people here?”  I asked her one day as we strolled toward the courthouse. 

“Oh, honey, those old men ran anybody that looked or acted differently out of town long ago.” She calmly answered.

“Do you think that it is the right thing to do?”  I replied.

Another thing comin’

“Honey, let me tell you something I hope you never forget.”

She continued, “From now until forever, some folks think they are right when they are wrong.  It makes ‘um feel better when they believe themselves superior to others.  It’s funny that those same old folks head to church on Sunday, study the Bible, and pray for a more righteous world.  They often believe their success, power, or even color causes them to rise above others.  But honey, they got another thing comin’!”

“What’s coming, Grandpa?”

“Let me tell you a story that will make it clearer.”

“One day, it was burning hot outside.  A crowd had gathered to catch the bus.  The group included people of all colors and convictions.  Some were thieves, many carried weapons, some held handfuls of cash, some were Republicans, and others were Democrats. 

The bus was late, and the people grew angry.  They began to blame each other for all their problems and woes.  They pointed their fingers and began to shout and shove one another.  Each person felt their views were correct and thought the other was as evil as the thieves.

Suddenly, a gunshot quieted the group.

What does happen next?

“What happened next?” I asked with my eyes wide open.

Grandpa answered, “Finally, the bus pulled up to the curb.  The door opened, and the driver emerged.  Without saying a word, the man walked into the throng to find a child lying on the ground.  She had been trampled by the enraged crowd and killed by a bullet embedded in her heart.  He slowly lifted the little girl into his arms as he studied the eyes of the people around him.

Then he touched the little girl’s chest and healed her, but he didn’t return her to her parents.  At that point, the folks recognized the driver as the Lord God himself!”

“Then, The Lord turned to speak to the unruly mob.”

“Didn’t I tell you to put no other Gods before me?  Yet, you chose anger, hatred,  violence, and politics over me.  You selected bias, power, and self-righteousness to be your God.   Distrust, doubt, and fear became your armor instead of faith.”

God continued, “This bus goes to Heaven.  Do you believe I would only select one race, and only the rich and the influential, to ride in this bus?  I was the one who welcomed the lepers and defended the prostitutes.  I welcomed all who believed and loved me to my table.  Didn’t I ask you not to judge others and do the same?”

He continued,  “Do you presume your politics will save your America, or do you believe that following the laws of kindness, inclusion, and compassion is what will make your country shine?” 

“You love to hate and feel no guilt by spreading it to others when I commanded you to simply love your neighbor.”

He returned to the bus, closed the doors, and drove away.

“Grandpa, did anybody get on the bus with him?”

 “Only the little child.” She softly answered, and I understood.

The 60s are now today.  Some things have changed, but what would the Lord say to many who stand in the sun to catch that bus to Heaven?  It could be the exact words.

Yet, I know one person who rode with the Lord to Heaven because she lived by her faith.  Her name was Grandpa.

After listening to the news and reading the paper, I hid in the closet…. And maybe I would stay there until it is safe to come out!  Kids killing kids, adults behaving like disrespectful brats, and don’t get me started on the absolute nightmare of politics! 

Sometimes, the harshness of life is just too much.  And, for many of us who love people, hiding from the world seems a good solution.  The only downside is that the world will stay the same if we live in seclusion.  It will only be kinder, safer, and more loving if we dare to show up.

I know; I recently told you I gave up writing.  I thought the closet would be better, but it is dark there!  And I don’t like it.  We can become isolated in our own safe havens way too often.  We let the bullies win when we hide or become frightened.  Why should we allow their antagonistic, revenge-filled lives to defeat our courage?  Why is hatred louder than love?

Mistakenly, I let the nastiness in the world sucker me into its grip.  “What’s the use of promoting civility, decorum, unity, humility, and old-fashioned goodness?  Greed and anger seem to defeat compassion today, and bullies appear to be winning on the playground of life. 

People sometimes dismiss words regarding our shared emotions as namby-pamby or unintellectual.  They fail to realize that we are reduced to a joyless, worthless existence without a spiritual life or feelings.

Nancy called

I was tired, not of writing but of sensing that God was constantly crying.  If I put on my earbuds and listened to music in the closet, I could drown His tears and thus, selfishly, end mine.  

Then Nancy called.  I don’t know Nancy, but she has read my columns for the last two years.  When she read that I was putting the pen down, she called the newspaper and asked how to reach me. 

I listened to her sweet voice as she told the story of how a column I wrote helped her deal with the death of her best friend.  I responded,  “I always know when I write there is one person whom God may be trying to reach.  He knows someone out there needs a bit of hope, a touch of inspiration, and a friend.” 

As I heard myself say these words, I realized, “How do I accomplish such a thing if I stay in the dark chamber I put myself in?”  I can’t.

Nancy wasn’t hiding either.  She picked up a phone and contacted a stranger who needed to hear her words.  Funny how the Lord works. 

So, I came out of the darkness to view the light of spring.  Suddenly, the clouds melted away and were replaced with a clear blue sky.  Drab gray faded to bright green, and blank tree branches erupted in glorious colors.   Everything looks fresher, newer, and more hopeful.   

God works through us.

As we head toward Easter celebrations, I am reminded that God works through each person to bring joy and peace.  He wants us all to jump from our inward struggles and fight the wickedness and meanness around us.  No matter how hard it is, no matter how timid we might be, His battle is ours.

What is Easter about?  Christ came to save us from the evildoers who nailed Him to a cross to suffer and die.  Afterward, they put him in a tomb, victoriously thinking, “That’s the end of that voice!” He fought the battle for 33 years against the oppressors, the self-absorbed, and the self-righteous.  He never wavered from his mission of spreading God’s love.

But on Easter, all those who believed they were victors saw that death could not stop His voice, quell His love, or keep His words entombed.  Christ was the victor!

 His courage should pulse through our veins as we face challenges in life.   His love does open the doors to our closets and frees us all.   When we let doubt or disdain interfere with our purpose, we cause suffering to the very one who came to end ours.

 How untrusting we are to rely on something other than the Lord’s strength to fulfill our mission here.  How foolish we are to think that what we do or say will not be heard by God.  And how utterly cowardly we are to remain silent when evil is shouting victory! 

This Easter, let goodness reign, kindness swell, and no matter who or what you believe in, never let it replace the one who believes in you.  It is the only way to free ourselves and our world from darkness.

Thank you to all who wrote me notes of inspiration in the last few weeks.  I may not see you every week, but I will not put the pen down again.  God bless you.

I submitted my first story to the LaGrange Daily News nine years ago.  It was a love letter to the west Georgia town that accepted me as a 15-year-old newbie with a Tennessee mountain accent as thick as Dolly Parton’s.   The editor printed the story in three parts, and within two weeks, I became a weekly columnist for their publication.

Today, I am printed in several news outlets, magazines, and national publications because a young editor believed, “Readers need hope and inspiration and an escape from the harshness of other news.”  

Before starting my column each week, I asked the Lord, “Well, God, what are we writing about today?”  Suddenly, words would appear on my computer, and they surprised me many times!  Each time, I knew there was someone out there in reader land who needed a friend.

Writing can be challenging during a pandemic like COVID-19, the ongoing political division, and the bombardment of hatred and incivility.  Finding the right words to calm the waters, provide respite, or remind others that God is always with us and watches what we do is often difficult.

Promoting words

Promoting kindness during political upheaval is like using a water gun in a war.  Reminding folks of truth, justice, and honor in an environment laced with conspiracy, blame, and lies is akin to trying to survive a raging flood using a toddler’s floaties. 

I knew that sharing my feelings and being transparent about my faults would open others to the idea that we all need each other. We don’t do well embroiled in division, controversy, or self-righteousness.

Thanks to a group of skilled editors and publishers, I am blessed to have the opportunity to write about everything from the importance of fried chicken to faith, family, and friends.

 Because of the opportunity God gave me, I have encountered the most fabulous folks.  From the fantastic Vietnam Veterans to reconnecting with old friends, my Tennessee roots, and you, I understand never taking these gifts for granted.  

However, having said all these things, I now feel it is time to put the pen down…. at least for a while.  Perhaps it is just for a short time to reflect and pray.   Maybe the hatred exhibited in our world compels me to lose a little more faith in folks than I need to.  So, I’ll pause instead of causing you to do the same.  

Before informing my editors of my decision to take a break, I placed my hand on the Bible.  “God, please tell me if I am doing the right thing.  Let me know somehow that this is your will, not mine.”

And God replied

I opened the Bible randomly and read Ecclesiastes 3:7: “There is a time for everything: A time to tear; a time to repair; a time to be quiet; a time to speak up.” At that moment, I knew it was my time to be quiet and repair.  

Everyone knows Lynn and silence are unrelated, so hopefully, I’ll be loud again soon.   However, when it is time, I pray God comes back to my office, throws words on the computer, and you will take the time to read them.

So, until I see you again, remember that decency requires being decent, hatred dies by the hand of love, and most of all, remember that our leader is our heavenly Father, and we should reflect Him in all we do and say. 

Fulfill your purpose not with negativity but with vigor and hope until the day they call your name from way up yonder!

With love and appreciation,

Lynn Walker Gendusa

Note: I will add information and reflection on my web page during this time off. God bless

Can any of us imagine living in a country run by a tyrannical dictator, rife with corruption, and where one is killed or imprisoned if one opposes such evil?  A place where truth is optional, freedom to speak is non-existent, and hope is gone. 

“It is what it is, and there is nothing we can do!”  This is an excuse used by people in Russia, America, and other countries worldwide regarding government leadership.  Such a statement that is oft-repeated by a nation’s people will soon be controlled by someone like Hitler, Putin, or Kim Jong Un.

Apathy is the killer of free societies.  We will forfeit liberty when we assume nothing can be done.  We hand in our rights when we are not courageous or sensitive enough to care.

 When citizens allow corruption or conspiracies to spread, then evil will rise and control what we care about.

   I firmly believe that every citizen of this country must let your voice be heard.  For all the soldiers who have died to defend our land, shout.  Apathy or fear must never invade America, or we will become another Russia.

Applaud character

I applaud those who stand for honesty, civility, and character.  Leaders willing to give up power for the country they serve should be heralded and not victimized.  They are the ones who sign no political pledges, work together to find solutions, and use their time to help the citizens of their nation.  These are the leaders who prioritize their country before their party.

Can any of us imagine living in a nation where such a brave leader is killed, and one is not allowed to simply lay a flower on a sidewalk to honor him?  Can you imagine being the mother or wife of Alexey Navalny who knows justice will never be served for his murder?  Do we not comprehend that in some countries, there is no justice?

 America has always believed that “no one is above the law.”  Justice wins here because of our Constitution, which should never be undermined.  It is our backbone, our power, and our protector.  

The Make America Great Again movement promoted in 2016 was and still is confusing to me.  I always thought America was great.  We have problems, but we typically have worked them out or at least tried to do so.    

We marched when we needed to, went to war when we needed to, survived, and grew.  There is greatness when the will of the people reigns.  When we vote, we establish a future for four years.  If our leader fails, we can rid ourselves of the commander.  We call it democracy.  It is not perfect, but Lord, it isn’t Russia. 

Members of the world

Have you noticed how some folks think God is only an American?  We are members of a world, and our world includes people of all ethnicities, beliefs, and creeds.  As godly people, we are, according to scripture, supposed to help all people.  “Go therefore and teach all nations…”  Matthew 28:19

Now, how do we do that if we become isolationists?  How do we aid and love others when we choose to ignore the fate of God’s children of all nations?  Or, because living in a vacuum is easier and cheaper, do we delete that part of God’s edict?

What would have happened if Hitler was not defeated?  Can you imagine? 

When hatred permeated our corner of the world on December 7, 1941, the citizens of our GREAT country banded together in force to defeat it.  They cared enough to fight, fall, and keep our flag hoisted above our land.  Freedom-loving leaders worldwide battled to conquer the enemy and were valiant enough to show their character.  Those powerful enemy dictators fell because apathy was destroyed by the clutched hands of unity. 

Can you imagine how we could ever be greater than we were and still are as long as we are together?

There is no excuse for apathy, laziness, and cowardice… not here.  Not in this place where the opportunity to be the voice of freedom and justice is heard.  Not in this America where we can peacefully protest and raise flags.   Not in this land where roses are proudly displayed to honor fallen heroes.  Not on this earth’s soil where American blood lies beneath the surface because we cared enough to die for our corner of the planet.

Can you imagine living in a country where pride is gone, honor is lost, and you don’t care that it is?  It will never happen here if we inspire others to be brave, hopeful, and involved.

Pick up a phone, vote, write letters, pray, and keep a great America.

You know what?  We need to laugh more!  We should demand television show reruns of The Honeymooners, I Love Lucy, Cheers, and Friends during prime-time hours.   Who needs more bad news, murder, lawlessness, and unsolved mysteries?  We have an abundance of those in our daily lives.  Instead, we need a Jackie, a Lucy, a Norm, or a Pheobe to lighten our moods.

I was born into a family who adored life’s funny and foolish antics.  My Dad was voted “The Wittiest” in high school.  He never changed; he could energize a group with his over-the-top wit.  Everyone loved him because he shared his humor and cherished other’s smiles.

Dad’s brothers and sister were his best friends throughout life.  My Aunt Ruth passed away earlier than the others.  She lived in Seattle, and folks say any writing talent I possess is attributed to her.  When she wrote letters, they prompted giggles and rereads. 

When I visited her in Seattle during the 1962 Worlds Fair, she was heading to the drug store early one morning.  “Lynn, wanna’ go with me?”   I recall not wanting to but instead responded, “Sure!”

When we paused at the greeting card section, she began reading the amusing cards aloud, making funny faces, using body language, and generating hilarity.  Folks gathered around, enjoying the comedy show in the middle of a drug store on a  sunny Saturday morning.  

During the July trip, I saw incredible sights and stored priceless memories.  But a lasting highlight was the laughter collected in the middle of Walgreens from an aunt who treasured the frivolity of life.

The brothers

My Uncle Paul was the oldest sibling of the Walker four.  He was a respected surgeon who you would think would be the most serious and studious of the gang.   You would think wrong.  He possessed a roaring belly laugh and a repertoire of jokes and pranks that could also amuse a crowd. 

Robert was the serious one.  He was also blessed with more cash flow than the others, yet they all jokingly teased him because he drove the worst car, never spent money on new golf balls, and earned the reputation from his mother as “Poor Robert.”

Of course, Poor Robert was not poor but rich with kindness and brilliance.  He continually laughed and adored his comical best friends.

When he died a few years before my father, Dad was standing with a group of Robert’s fellow golfing buddies after the funeral.   They all felt grief for their friend and brother.  Dad was devastated because now, the fab four were down to one.

Suddenly, my father, recognizing the shared pain, lifted them all with one question, “Did anyone remember to put the golf ball retriever in the casket with Bob?  If he can’t hunt for lake-soaked lost golf balls on the course in heaven, he will not enjoy paradise!”

They began to laugh and understand how the playful times we remember ease our misery, grief, and loss.

Humor is undoubtedly a gift we often take lightly.  The four Walker siblings lost their father and a toddler sister to the Spanish Flu in February 1920.  So many relatives passed away that year that Dad said, “Each day was filled with fear that another loved one would leave.”

Laughter to survive

The fabulous funny four used humor to survive the brutality of life.  They entertained each other and laughed at themselves.  Everyone enjoyed their outlandish and humorous ways, yet the siblings knew what heartache could accomplish if it consumed them.

My cousin Bobby recalls walking by my grandmother’s home as a young boy and hearing cackling laughter and slapping knees from folks gathered on her front porch. 

And boy, do we need to hear more of it today.

  Are we losing our insight into the meaning of laughter?  When we applaud, ridicule, disrespect, and be rude because we think it’s funny, we abuse the happy blessing of humor.

When a former president mocked a disabled person, I knew it was terribly insensitive, but when the crowd laughed at his crude remark and gestures, I felt such shame my skin crawled.  

Instead, God smiles when we use the gift of humor to lift another.  That’s what we should do with our spirits.  We boost ourselves and others with a cheerful heart, not a spiteful one.

As a direct descendant of a bunch of clowns, I inherited silliness.  It has healed many heartaches, just as it did for my father. 

 I still read comical cards in the drugstore, and when I do, I recall my Aunt Ruth’s infectious merriment and these words:   “A joyful heart is good medicine, but a crushed spirit dries up bones.” 

Proverbs: 17:22

We need to provide more medicine to the world before we are nothing but broken bones.

God is our mighty defender, right?   Yet, today, I feel the need to defend Him.

 Of course, God doesn’t need defending by mere humans.  The actual defense of our faith is being a witness of his love to those who watch us.

In the summer of 1960, I attended a church service with my friends from a different Protestant denomination.  It was just before we entered our teen years, and there was much bickering regarding the upcoming Presidential election. 

Since preteens pay little attention to the happenings outside their orbit, I learned little about politics.  When the minister began his sermon, he became almost enraged.

He roared, “As Christians, I must say we cannot vote for the Catholic John Kennedy!”

When my pals and I walked into the bright sunshine after the service, I asked one of them, “Isn’t the Catholic religion Christian?” 

“Yes, but they are wrong!”  My friends responded.

That day in 1960, hypocrisy hit me like a ton of bricks.  Love thy neighbor was out the window, Christians gathering in harmony, tossed away, being the world’s light, darkened.  All because of politics and bias.

Some change, some none

A few short years later, I attended my church during the days of racial unrest.  Hearing news of folks torching historic black churches and not allowing Christians of color to worship in predominantly white sanctuaries was more than shameful.  Plus, there seemed to be little condemnation from religious leaders.  I thought for sure God would set fire to all of us by the time it ended if it ever would.

Thank God He sent Martin Luther King to be a peaceful negotiator and leader to rescue all of us.

It is now 2024, and for the first time in 80 years, church membership has fallen below 50%. * 

The problem is the same as it was centuries before and during the turbulent 1960s: hypocrisy, judgmental thinking, and many saying, “God is missing in the church.”  And now it is worse.

Today, congregations are splitting over doctrine, personal ideologies, infighting, and who has the right to do this or that.   Politics has entered the Evangelical movement, which appears more interested in swaying people toward candidates instead of turning them toward God. 

 It seems a belief in the word conservative or liberal has more credence than the word Godly.  We can become quite nasty when it involves politics and then proclaim, “It’s okay to do so.”

And we wonder why church attendance is at an all-time low.  Why is division at an all-time high among all Americans?    

I recall that Sunday in the Tennessee church, thinking that any minute Jesus would walk down the aisle and smack that preacher silly, or lightning would smoke up the sanctuary! 

They say no sin is greater than the other.  I believe that to be true, but I also know God gave every one of us a mission, and it is clear as a bell: “Love one another.”

Love others…. please.

We are all hypocritical regarding many things, but there is no excuse for our behavior prompting pews to empty when Jesus gave His life to fill them.

It had been a while since I heard from Sheri. *  She lived far away but became a pal through my columns.  The phone rang, and I was amazed and delighted to discover it was my friend. 

She needed to talk to someone because she felt isolated and alone.  Always a churchgoer and strong Christian, she began, “Lynn, I don’t feel comfortable in my church anymore.  I don’t attend.”

I totally understood.  The political environment and infighting over conservative or liberal persuasions have thrown people out of pews nationwide.  And nothing makes it okay to do so.

 When Christians use disparaging remarks, applaud hatred, turn from those in need, and worship idols or money,  we divert people away from God.  We put an exclamation point to the complaint, “God is missing in the church!”

 It must end.   Christ’s words must rise above all else, or he will walk down the aisles of every cross-bearing building in our land and slap us all silly.

Jesus came to save us from ourselves. The church has one mission based on one doctrine, as commanded by Christ: “Go therefore and teach all nations.” 

As believers, our first priority is to bring people into the arms of God’s love and understanding.  Churches preach the gospel to save souls, teach God’s power, and use it to enlighten the world.

Faith and love of God take work.   Christians should always use their faith to steer others toward a loving, omnipresent, merciful Lord.  If our spirit shines a light into the darkness, it may be the only way others will find their way home.

Let’s lay hypocrisy down and grab a flashlight.

*Church Trak: 2024

“What’s that Joe?  Little Ruthie asks her slightly older brother as he holds up a mysterious bottle in the bathroom.  Joe answers, “Styling Mousse.  It’s made from moose guts.”

 Ruthie makes a grimacing face as Joe continues, “And if you spray it on a zombie, it’ll die a painful and lingering death.

“What’s lingering mean?” Ruthie responds. 

“Smelly, like Lingburger cheese.” Joe casually answers.

Ruthie: “Why is cheese so smelly?

Joe: It’s so you can tell what you eat in the dark.

Ruthie: Why do people eat in the dark?

Joe:  It’s a tradition in some countries, like Detroit.”

Ruthie: Detroit’s a country!?”

Joe:  Yeah, and it’s run by witches and warlocks.

Finally, Ruthie asks, “How do you know all this stuff, Joe?”

“DUH, Ruthie!  Have you never heard of the internet?” *

Do we need to grow up?

Out of the mouths of cartoon characters under age seven lies an unfortunate adult problem.

Joe is so casually fabricating nonsense because his story is more fascinating.  Plus, it is easier than researching what mousse does for the hair.  Or having to dig into a dictionary and find the meaning or spelling of a word.  Who needs a map to find a land of warlocks and witches?

Why take time to find answers, truth, and meaning?  Should we look at several different sources for news or listen to those more knowledgeable on a subject we know little about?

Educating ourselves to be better informed might improve our wisdom, decisions, and attitudes. 

The amount of misinformation spread across the internet continues to be a divisive and explosive detriment to our nation and its citizens.  When we accept or embrace an idea without examination, we become victims and not victors. 

Today, we have a massive issue with aligning ourselves with what we prefer to believe rather than the truth.  Fact is often disappointing and hard to accept.  Truth often resembles nasty cough medicine.  It tastes horrible but stops the menacing cough.   Taking a dose of truth can rid us of bias, lies, and anger.

Detroit, Russia

The amount of conspiracy theories and bogus ideas is increasing because it is easier to believe a captivating story that aligns with our beliefs.  We applaud our foolish wisdom when others think as we do.  The more folks agree with us, the more valid it seems and the more it spreads.

Finally, we become like seven-year-old Joe, who believes Detroit is a country.  If Joe then shares his theory with other kids,  soon Detroit is in Russia and governed by a tribe of witches and warlocks called “Michigan!”

How do we know where a narrative begins on the internet?  We understand that foreign entities and hackers use tactics to separate us.  “Divide and conquer” has been a strategy for centuries; the internet just makes it more underhanded.

  I am constantly amazed at the number of otherwise reasonable folks falling prey to the fear spread by some unknown expert from somewhere in the open seas of the World Wide Web.

Just give me a reputable newspaper.  There is more truth in the newspaper’s comic section than in bizarre stories on social media.

Often, I take a photo of a funny cartoon and send it to my friends first thing in the morning.  They don’t subscribe to the paper, and Garfield started my day with a laugh I want to share.  

I prefer to read a story backed by an actual event based on facts.  As a matter of fact, give me a state, national, or local paper and allow me to discern truth from fiction.   I went to school. 

Truth or Warlocks?

I write for several local and national newspapers and publications.  Each of their skilled editors is determined to represent honesty, fairness, and open-mindedness. 

Through the years, I have yet to see any nefarious schemes or distortions as found in other branches of news outlets and certainly on the internet. 

I have stated this before, but I love my fellow citizens enough to say it for the thousandth time: “Do not listen to only what you want to hear!”

It’s akin to reading the Bible.  If you only read “Thou shalt not kill,” you might miss the part “Do not judge, or you too will be judged.”   We should never choose words from the Bible to validate our ideas but rather study them to learn how to live according to God’s word.

To live an honest life with honest leaders, we must take the time to seek the truth even though it might taste like hair mousse or smell like stinky cheese.  We need sound directions to escape from the darkness where warlocks live.   And it may take God to return us to Detroit, Michigan, in the land of America.

*One Big Happy by Rick Detorie  Sunday 1/21/24

The helmet is awkward, the shoulder pads are too big for the armor, and I can’t pick up a thing wearing boxing gloves.  However, I am ready to protect myself from the ruckus, chaos, and uncertainty of 2024.  

As I stumble around the kitchen in my protective garb, I recall those election years when all seemed mostly normal or something other than now.  Days when it was our civic duty and honor to vote without fear of retaliation or conflict.   

I recall casting my first vote after graduating high school, where Miss Owen taught the required Government course in my senior year.  Boy, understanding government before you select someone to govern is a blessing.  Perhaps I wouldn’t have to wear boxing gloves if more people studied what Miss Owen directed us to learn.

America was built on the backs of unified bravery.  We stood firm through wars, terrorism, diseases, financial collapses, racism, and social woes.  We endured many problems but advanced, changed, grew, and prospered because we cherished freedom more than trouble.

This year, I do not wear armor to protect me from a foreign enemy, disease, or the economy.   It is not racism, diversity, or immigration that will doom America.  What we will need to fight for is our integrity and civility.   The blows leveled upon America by the lack of respect toward each other will be our demise.

What do you hear?

If you listen to the candidates running for office today or tune in to the halls of Congress, what do you hear?  Sure, the old promises are still there, but the brutal attacks, demeaning jokes, threats, and vitriolic verbiage used are like never before.

The lack of civility exhibited by some government leaders is nothing short of un-American.  The political power struggles and tactics employed between our political parties and many of those representing them should be shameful to all.  Encouraging division to gain power is undermining the American spirit.

Many folks exuberantly applaud the nasty rhetoric, laugh at the cruel jokes, and overlook today’s unacceptable behavior.   When winning is more important than how we run a race, what does it say about our culture and character?  If true, we no longer deserve God’s grace and are no longer America, the beautiful. 

We all want to support our choice of leaders, but we must respect the values and rights of others without condemnation.  To disparage another because we disagree with their choice of leadership or policy is not appreciative of a democracy based on individual rights and freedoms.

 When an honorable character is no longer critical, and actions have no consequences, then take a match to our constitution.  At that point, we don’t deserve to have one.

Justifying “wrong”

Our nation has historically embraced the power of God.  What do you think will happen when influential people have no fear of God and folks turn away from His words and laws?   Rome fell, Germany fell, and heralded leaders toppled because the power of God was stronger than the will of a nation, its leaders, or its people.

Folks who believe they are “right” are committing wrongful acts.  Many are terrorizing those who differ from them, threatening their families, and using physical and mental means to do so.  They are the bullies of our world.  And no one loves a bully but the bullies.   Unfortunately, too many of us just turn away, ignoring the situation, until the day the bully wins.

My family and many of you heard these words when we were kids: “Don’t engage in cruelty.  Don’t bully, and don’t follow one.  Don’t disrespect your elders, teachers, or God.   Converse, don’t shout, and never take the easy way out.  Kindness will open doors, and meanness will trap you inside.  Walk a mile in another’s shoes to understand compassion.”

Do we need a pinch?

If we use today what we learned as children, our children will not be disillusioned with us or our nation.

When I was a child, if I were discourteous and behaved rudely in public, Mom would pinch me where no one could see her do so.  Sometimes, we learn the hard way to act in a better way.  It was part of our maturing into decent folks.  

 Where has much of the decency gone?  I didn’t know it could fade away by following people who obviously never were pinched.

America is tattered, torn, and tired of political rhetoric without substance but laced with fear, power, and blame.  Most Americans desire our government to be represented with sound policies and led with honor. 

Here we go to 2024!   May we be reminded as we march onward that integrity, civility, and respect for one another are the armor we need for America to shine as that one indivisible nation under God.  

My buddy passed away last week after valiantly battling cancer for years.  I wrote a story about this man in 2021, “Meet God’s Soldier with a Mission,” published in several news outlets across the South.   Lieutenant Colonel Dan Payne wore so many different hats during his lifetime of service to God and country that he required a room to hang them all. 

If we are fortunate to live a while, we all wind up with a roomful of hats.  We change our roles throughout our lives.  Transitioning from child to adult, from mothers and fathers to empty nesters, and from one job to another until we wear the cap announcing, “I’m Retired!”

Dan graduated high school with me and married my good friend, Jo.  Became a father, college student, Vietnam veteran, seminary graduate, and Baptist pastor.  Then rejoined the Army and became a Chaplain in various military bases worldwide, including in the Desert Storm/Shield conflicts.   Finally, after serving 28 years, he was a veteran with so many medals that he needed another room for those!

Yet, that wasn’t the end.  No, Dan became a Park Ranger and a grandfather while continuing to counsel and support countless appreciative people. 

God was Dan’s Boss

“Lynn, I often wonder why God keeps me on earth to suffer?” 

“Well, Dan, I think God has used you to send messages of hope to the numerous folks you touch throughout your life.    And he is still making you work.  How many people have been encouraged to never give up because of the grace and bravery you exhibit through your sickness?” 

Then, I ended my conversation as I usually did with Dan…. A joke.  “Shoot, Dan, who knows, you might wind up taking Job’s place in the Bible!”

I didn’t shed a tear when I heard Dan had left us.  Instead, I smiled.  To lose a lifetime buddy usually puts me holding a box of tissues for a while, but not this time.  It was as if heaven opened for me to glimpse Dan sitting beside the Lord.  This time, he wasn’t wearing a hat; he donned a crown. 

I traveled with another high school friend to Dan’s funeral in north Georgia.  We listened to members of the military speak, saw Dan’s minister shed tears as he delivered his eulogy, and Park Rangers sitting side by side in a pew.  Family members gathered in swarms, and as I watched Jo enter the church in the arms of her sons, I saw her smile. 

She knows Dan’s life isn’t over, and his legacy will live on for years.  A life of service, sacrifice, and joy.

Dan’s life journey taught me that it is not how much we accumulate in our earthly life.  Instead, it is about how much we give away during our time here. 

Making every hour count

We can spend time on the beach or playing sports.  How many of us spend years searching for success and making money only to obtain more material items?  We spend hours looking for ways to entertain ourselves and have fun.  We spend precious time defending our often-errant beliefs and personal opinions that, most of the time, matter little. 

Ultimately, what have we given to others’ lives when our life was complete?  How many hats did we wear that improved the world?  Like Dan, did we inspire others by how we spent our time?  Did we leave a legacy, benefit our nation, protect our forest, become a hero, and hear thunderous applause when we reached heaven’s door?

People often ask, “Do you think about death often?”  Usually, if one does, it is a sign of depression or negativity.  I have made the monumental discovery that we should contemplate our death more.  We all know our lives will end, and if we live as though it could be over tomorrow, perhaps we will treasure our days and spend our time in more valuable ways.  

None of us can take success, money, fame, fun, political party affiliation, or beach chairs when we pass to the great beyond.  We will not be asked how we spent our hours because God already knows the answer. 

Did we serve, minister to others, provide calm, and love people and all of God’s creatures?  Were we kind, patient, forgiving, giving, faithful, and fearless?  And did we do well enough that folks smiled at our funeral because they knew, without a doubt, that we were safely in the arms of the Lord?  If so, what a glorious way to end our earthly journey.

Goodbye, old pal, you were outstanding here.  I can’t imagine how spectacular you will be in heaven!

In memory of Lieutenant Colonel Dan L. Payne, 1947-2024

My friend, Ricki, begins each new year with a word.  Her chosen word reminds her to use the term in everything she faces in the coming year.  Focus, trust, and thankfulness are a few she has selected over time.   Focus and pay attention to things that really matter in life.  Trust God even when your mind doubts, and be grateful for all the blessings He bestows.

I have never been one to select only one word and try to incorporate it daily into my life.  But this year, during the holidays, a single word popped into my mind, and it seems to be stuck like a song does occasionally in my brain. 

The word is “cherish.” 

Watching my family open their presents on Christmas morning, I realized how much I cherish such moments with my children and grandchildren.

 Now a young college student, Avery, using humor, still counts her gifts under the tree as she did when she was five.  Or the little ones, tearing open presents with wild abandon.  Five-year-old Weston, shouting, “I love this!” before he knew what was inside the box, brought unified laughter from the family.   I adore the happiness, energy, and innocence that only a child can create. 

Treasuring God and people

When our hands joined in prayer as we gathered at the table, I became acutely aware of how deeply I adored God, who granted me such tremendous delight. 

To treasure the people in our lives, the land we live upon, and the Lord who blessed us is vital to finding personal joy.  And when we are joyful, we provide others with the gift of hope.   If we cherish those who walk with us, we spread all manner of good things.

My innocence is long gone, and the wrinkles and occasional aches age brings are not so great, but the wisdom gained over the years is glorious.  I wish I possessed it when I was younger, but I cherish what little I have today. Noticing all the small but essential things in life opens not only my eyes but also my heart.

 I am grateful for my age-disrupted body I dwell in because it still moves me around.  My youth is revived when I attempt to keep up with the Weston’s and Avery’s in my world.

I do not fear telling those I love that I do because my voice will one day be silenced.  Putting aside past grievances is the only way to move forward in peace.  I realize now that each day matters to someone other than me and that, for sure, God is present with us all.

Cultivating care

According to Webster, to cherish means to hold dear, to keep or cultivate with care and affection.  A synonym for the word is also “appreciate.”

More now than ever, the world needs loving cultivation.  Honoring, cherishing, aiding, praying for, and supporting each other will comfort us and reap enormous benefits.  To unify our people is what God wants and what we must do, regardless of what political stance we declare. 

A friend’s son was stricken with a severe illness before Christmas.  A GoFundMe account was established, and within a short time, the funds surpassed the goal and continued to grow.  Those who unselfishly give cherish life. 

Another friend is witnessing her precious husband losing his battle with cancer.  Yet, she is joyful because she appreciates the time and abundant love the Lord gave them.  Those who are thankful to God cherish life. 

A child’s sorrow over a father’s abandonment ends when he returns home on Christmas day.  Those who forgive cherish life.

These three examples are just a few of the millions of stories regarding God’s hands in our daily lives.

Goodness abounds, and if we unite around kindness and outreach, we will change the course of tomorrow.  We will do so for all the little ones who love the gift of life even before they know what it will bring.

We will cultivate more abundant love if we begin the new year, focusing on such words as trust, thankfulness, and cherish.

 And, if we speak of love and angels, we will not become as a sounding brass or a tinkling cymbal.*

Cherish and respect, give and forgive, and grow.

*Ref:  Corinthians 1:13:1

I don’t know about you, but there is a bit of dread as we head to 2024.  Since 2020, we have remained in a 48-month-long election cycle.  To say I am tired of political rancor and turbulence is quite an understatement.  Vying for power is quite ugly and brings out the worst in most people.  Then, often, the “worst” filters down to the rest of us becoming followers of bad behavior.

Congressmen are leaving Congress; people elect not to vote or care.  “I give up!” they say instead of “Let me try giving and doing more to help!”  Is the lousy conduct winning and creating more bullies?

 Some people applaud hate-filled rants and crave retribution.  “Let’s punish the world!” becomes a mantra instead of “Let’s encourage the world by our example!” 

Now, do you, too, dread 2024?  However, there is good news.

Now, the good news

Christmas is the celebration of the birth of our Savior.   God didn’t give up or not care, did he?  He sent his son to teach us how kindness, humility, and love bring us closer to Him.  Christ taught us not to fear death and to honor His Father in all we do.  And he didn’t mean only to do so on Christmas, Easter, or any given Sunday. 

I am constantly amazed at how folks can dismiss Christ’s instructions when it comes to politics.  It is as if our chosen candidates or political party preferences come before the words of God.  How does it become the “right” way in our minds when it is clearly the opposite of what we were taught?  How do we dismiss godliness when God is still alive and walking among us?

Does America win when we accept rude, intimidating, self-righteous behavior?  Maybe God needs to be the winner in 2024.  And the only way He can is by us being godlier every day in all aspects of our lives.

Christ was born in a lowly stable to show us that a king can rise from humble beginnings.  Jesus died as a villain to some, but again, he rose from the trials and tribulations of the hate placed upon him.  Folks couldn’t see who He was through their political blindness and allegiance to their leaders.  So, what has changed in 2023 years?

What we now know

Politics is not the answer to our problems, nor is a congressman or a president.  The response to our various issues is to find solutions with respectful compromise and better attitudes among our leaders and ourselves.   When we put our Savior in the middle of the conversation, we become stewards of His words.    And those who care must never give up or give in.  Christ sure didn’t, even as he suffered all the slings and arrows thrown at Him.  He uttered, “Forgive them, for they know not what they do.”  They didn’t, but we do now.

   We know better than those who tormented Christ below the cross.  The difference is that we know God’s son lived on after his death.  He walked out of a tomb and showed the world the scars of living, yet his spirit remained and is with us now.  If only we believe that to be true.

That’s how we revive hope and dignity in 2024.  That is how we will be the world’s light and help the generations that follow us.  Rather than using the adage, “I am yelling and misbehaving  because I want to create a better America for my children,” why not say instead, “I want my behavior to reflect the words of my savior, and then America will be a better place for my children.”   

The glory God showed to us on Christmas night long ago should never become secondary to anything we do or are.  If you think about it, no greater leader has existed than the child born in the stable.  There has never been a more significant influence on Earth than Christ.   And the people didn’t elect him but instead chose by God to lead the people home.

Let’s not forget as we head to 2024 to take Christmas with us each day, to honor the Savior through our actions, and to remember that power lies only in the beautiful hands of God.

A friend unexpectedly passed away, and another is in the hospital with an undetermined illness.  A father has just entered hospice care, and a mother lost her only child.  Cancer will strike someone today, while another receives equally horrific news.

A loved one will betray another, a friendship will end, and someone will lose their job.  More children will die from the brutality of war or abuse while a teenager suffers an illegal drug overdose.

All of this is happening now to someone somewhere near us.  And even as I type these words, a tear falls for those who I know are suffering.  Sometimes, it is a struggle to find happiness and hope.

We live in a complicated world amid woe, fear, anger, division, and blame.  And sadly, we have gotten more accustomed to doing so.  It is as if the pandemic we lived through created an aftershock of negativity, mistrust, and doubt that we can’t seem to cure.  Unfortunately, there is no vaccine for animosity and vitriol.

Many political leaders fail miserably at providing one ounce of enlightenment or calm.   The behavior exhibited by those we expect to lead is often appalling and shameful.  Courage, dignity, honor, and godliness have succumbed to their insatiable need for power.   This is not a political party issue; it is, instead, a terrible personal flaw that affects multitudes. 

What to do?

So, what can we do to help turn things around, calm the outrage, and encourage respectful leadership? 

When I was a small child, my father rented a house on a vast farm in Tennessee.  I can close my eyes today and see the white fences framed around red barns and open lush green fields.   The idyllic ranch provided memories for a lifetime, even though we lived there for only two years.

It was Christmas Eve, 1954, when my excitement and a bout of asthma refused to allow me to sleep.  I crawled out of bed and went to the window to see if I could spy Santa heading toward the farm.  I pressed my nose against the cold windowpane and scanned the meadow behind the house.

The moon was full, and its glow illuminated the cows lying in the pasture beyond the fence.  Stars sparkled brilliantly in the clear sky as I watched the scene before me.  Suddenly, far in the distance, I saw the brightest star I had ever seen. 

As a child, I didn’t understand that Christ was born long ago; instead, I thought he was reborn every Christmas.  So, I believed that Jesus’s birth was occurring out in the pasture under that beaming light behind our house!

I wanted to run to my parents but knew I would be in trouble for being up at such a late hour, so I didn’t wake them.  I wish I had because my asthma vanished when I saw the star and knew it was Jesus.

The window of our souls

We can succumb to the despair and darkness in our world or look for the light.  Our leaders will not find our peace; it is up to us to be peaceful.   We have many problems and much heartache during our days here on Earth.   And so many times, we search for remedies for our troubles in the back corners of shallowness instead of the open fields of understanding. 

We follow and applaud idols living in mansions instead of the baby born in a stable and wonder why we aren’t out of our self-imposed pandemic of hostility.

The only way to live through the deaths, the betrayals, the broken friendships, and failed leadership is to look out the window of our souls and find the child born on the first Christmas.  The son of God came to aid us and give us the wisdom and strength to endure our trials and tribulations.

Christ is not a religion that lives in a church.  He lives in our homes, walks in our fields, and abides in our hearts.  He is our leader who is with us below the stars.  And if we seek him,  we will understand how to soothe the anger and stop the evil ones who use hate to win instead of love to ease our pain.

So, as we head to the final chapter of 2023 and this holiday season, I pray we can each look up and not down, forward and not backward, and find the hope and happiness only the child born in the manger can provide.

“God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble.”  Psalms 46:1.

God sent His son on a star-filled holy night to remind us that He is.

She was only 24 and being wheeled into surgery to remove a brain tumor.  During the long operation, her heart stopped.  The staff recorded the time of death at 10:55 am.   The team of doctors and nurses struggled to revive her, but only to find out later that she was disappointed they did so.  While unresponsive, Angela floated away to find an indescribable freedom and meet the Lord’s face.  Just as He was ready to take her hand, she returned to the body she had left behind in the operating room.

Once in recovery, she told the doctor what she experienced.  She said she noticed the clock on the operating room wall before leaving.  “What time was it ?” the surgeon asked.  She answered, “It was 10:55 am.”

When I had the good fortune to meet this lovely lady, she possessed an illuminating aura one couldn’t ignore.  However, the doctors were unable to remove the entire cancerous lesion from her brain.  She passed away less than a year later with no fear of death and no hesitancy to leave only because of her faith in a child who was born long ago.

In the early seventies, I walked into my bathroom with a bottle of pills, determined to end my life.  Depression overwhelmed me, and I could not see a way out.  I didn’t understand why I was the way I was, but my strength was gone, and my fight to find a reason ended.  Just as I held the water in one hand and the pills in the other, for some unknown explanation, I flushed them down the toilet and threw the water in the drain.

I ran to my bedroom, fell to my knees, and prayed.  I knew something or someone stronger than I was stopped me from ending my life.

The Savior

 You see,  I didn’t realize at the time I was expecting a child.  Today, I often stop to gaze at the beautiful grown woman this child has become, and I know she is wonderfully here today because a child was born long ago.

Angela lived a short life but lived her purpose in her time.  She told her story to anyone who would listen to assure others there is a life beyond this one and not be frightened.   The child born long ago gave Angela the power and stamina to use her faith to share the glory awaiting us.  And she did it well.

I only sat with Angela for an hour, but she impacts much of how I view life today.  Because of her lack of fear, I have no trepidation in discussing my battles with clinical depression or other tribulations.  Earthly life isn’t over when we can no longer see a way out.  God will lead us out of our pain if we are faithfully patient.  Give Him the time because He gave us Himself. 

I overheard a group of religious men discussing our political environment.  They were calling folks names and degrading others with each sentence.  The Christmas tree sparkled in the adjoining living room, and the nativity was beautifully displayed near them.  The carol “Oh Holy Night” softly played in the background.  Will such hypocrisy be forgiven by all who are so humanly erred?  And then I remembered because a child was born long ago, all we must do is ask.

 Let us momentarily stop and hear the carols instead of the rancor and discontent.  Curb the name-calling, bad-mouthing, and spreading distrust, and instead, honor, respect, and celebrate our Savior’s birthday.   Pause to remember the baby born long ago still walks among us and listens to each word.  How sad even a manger scene cannot remind us who we should be.

The true meaning

We are no longer doomed because God sent Jesus to share His life with us on a glorified night.  If we believe in the power of the infant born, there is no need to live in fear and darkness.   Even when we sin, we can seek forgiveness.  When we fall, we will be given a staff to stand.  There is nothing we cannot endure because a child was born long ago.

Even though I love everything zany and am kid-like regarding the holidays, I know the true reason for the season.  I understood ages ago that without Christ, I would never have celebrated another Christmas, enjoyed the years with my family, watched grandchildren grow, encountered priceless folks, and found peace. 

Because of the baby born in a stable in Bethlehem, we are given victory over death, showered with strength, and granted abundant forgiveness.  How God must love us still.

Joy to the World!

It was early December 2011 when it was decided that my husband and I must be physically separated during Christmas.  David’s mother had planned for months to travel to our house from New Orleans for the holidays.  My two grown stepdaughters were overjoyed that their MawMaw was joining the family for Christmas. 

I, on the other hand, was planning to leave for Florida to help my daughter through the holidays as she dealt with the effects of chemotherapy while working and taking care of her six-year-old child. 

While anticipation graced our home in Georgia, difficulty seeped through the doors in South Florida.

Typically, our home is decorated to the max by Thanksgiving.  However, because of the trips back and forth to assist my daughter, the house was bare of holiday ornamentation. 

“Honey, let’s not worry about a tree this year because I know you are exhausted!  My mother, the girls, and I understand, and we will be just fine!” My husband assured me.

David flew out of town on business for a few days just before I was to fly south.  After he left, I stood alone in our un-Christmasy, bleak house and shed a few tears as sorrow engulfed me. 

I begged God to help us through this terrible and uncertain time. 

A Charlie Brown tree

Suddenly, I decided there was no way that I would leave my husband’s family to celebrate Christmas in such stark gloom and doom!

I grabbed my keys and headed to Hobby Lobby, searching for a small Charlie Brown-looking Christmas tree.  Something inexpensive, funny, and full of color.  The tree would be complete with ornaments representing the things in life David loved.

There it was!  On sale!  A five-foot pencil tree that was a bit sparse of fake needles, but yet, it seemed oddly perfect.   I grabbed it along with some old-timey colored lights, a few ornaments, and hooks.

The next stop was Walmart, where I found red and white fishing bobbers,  golf tees, and plastic practice golf balls. 

The tree would represent all things David enjoys… golf and fishing, beach Santas, and any reminder of his hometown, “The Big Easy.”

I glued the golf balls to the tees and tied them with red and white checked ribbons.  The floats attached to the branches perfectly, and the few purchased ornaments were related mainly to David’s favorite recreations.  I found an old picture of David fishing on a beach and tied it to the tree. 

When he came home, the tree was lit, and the house seemed to shine with a glimpse of joy.  The once ugly little tree seemed magical since it made my waving goodbye easier.

Reminders of life

Finally, later in January, when I returned home, I took the tree down and stowed it in the attic.  

“Are you keeping the tree?” David asked as I wrapped up the ornaments. 

“Yes, I am.  I may even put it back up next year as a second tree.  It seems enchanted and joyous!”  I declared. 

Every year since that fateful Christmas, the tree reemerges to bring more than magic to this house.  Each year, we add another David ornament.  We still hang the original ones on the tree, but there are also decorations depicting a camera, a glass slice of pizza, a poor boy sandwich from New Orleans along with beads, the Christmas Story movie floor lamp, an Italian flag, pictures of grandchildren, and many more outlandish mismatched meaningful reminders of life. 

The large tree in the living room is beautiful, but David’s Tree in the adjoining room is the heart of Christmas.  The whimsical tree tells the story of love, healing, hope, and family.  David’s mom died several years ago, but each time I turn the tree’s lights on, I think of the colorful life she led. 

A wooden tree-shaped plaque is embedded in the tree that reads, “David’s Tree, established 2011.”   Each Christmas, when I hang the plaque, I also put a pink ornament on the back of the tree with a picture of my daughter taken soon after recovering from cancer. 

David’s tree depicts the journey from heartache to victory, despair to joy, and doubt to faith, all because of an answered prayer.   

God indeed helped us all through a terrible time.  There isn’t a day that I am not aware that Christ is the magic of Christmas.  He planted in my mind the way to bring a bit of light to darkness and a smile to wipe away the tears.

As the little pencil tree beams brightly in our home and folks stop by, they often look quizzically at the crazy ornaments.  As I notice their questioning glare, I respond, “This is David’s tree full of everything he loves!”

But, oh, it is so much more.

A few years ago, I decided to relinquish my Crazy Christmas Queen crown.  I even mentioned this idea in a column, and my husband (bless his heart) was relieved thinking his prayers were answered.  They were not. 

Christmas begins whirling in my head toward the end of July.  And, when the leaves start to turn brown, and the weather dips below 85 degrees, my Christmas fever rises, and it doesn’t drop until January 1.

 Each New Year’s Day, my resolution is to give up the Christmas crown and grow up.  However, I haven’t reached the over-blown grown-up status yet, nor have I lost those ten pounds I resolved to lose the same day.  

This year, I have learned through some scientific Gendusa knowledge that being a certified long-standing Christmas Candy Cane Crazy Kid is due to a gene embedded in one’s spirit.  I was born with the ability to fail in mathematics but succeed in everything involving Santa, Baby Jesus, wreaths, toys, cookies, and gifts.

The official stamp

I was marked from birth with this capability, and to prove the theory, I was stamped with a birthmark on my left arm in the shape of a Christmas tree.  I hate that it faded after so many years, but I’m glad Mama lived long enough to verify its existence to my children.  

This year, my granddaughter, Avery, is a freshman in college.  I suspected Avery was also assigned the Christmas gene, but until recently, I was still determining if it was a fact. 

“I can’t wait to come to Atlanta for Thanksgiving, Grandma!” She excitedly exclaimed on the phone in October.  She continued, “Are you going to have the Christmas tree up and the house all decorated?  I am past ready for the holidays filled with good food and family!”

Avery called again a few days later.  “Grandma, would you read over an essay I wrote for my English class?” 

“Sure, honey.  Send it on!” I happily replied. 

When I opened the emailed attachment, I laughed out loud. 

“Do you Believe in Santa?”

Yes, she inherited the gene, and after I read her thesis, I thought, “Boy, are her future kids going to have fun!”

That is the beauty of the Christmas Crown.  The spirit of Christmas brings pure joy to all around you. 

Never outgrow Christmas

Those of us who overdo the holidays and go a bit crazy are the ones who didn’t leave the kid in us at the North Pole or lost forever in maturity or age.  We decided to hang on to the magic through our earthly days and share it with those we love.

None of my neighbors or friends are surprised that my tree was up and the house was decorated at the beginning of November.  My husband (bless his heart) still attempts to lecture me on the dollars I spend and the overcooking I do.  Nothing works because I am the official Queen of Christmas, complete with an official faded stamp, crown, and those inherited genes.

All good and perfect things began at Christmas.  Jesus was born and given to us.  He taught us the meaning of giving, kindness, forgiveness, and love.  His birth changed everything about living and dying.  What is there not to celebrate? 

What is there not to love about happiness and cheerfulness?  There isn’t a soul in reader-land who doesn’t love a Christmas story or hearing about a miracle.  It is good for us all to stop and enjoy the blessing of Christmas.  

A bit of magic?

We look at the world and often wonder if hatred and war will triumph over peace and love.  We lose ourselves in the sorrow and desperation that surround us.  Yet, because of Christmas, we are given the opportunity to renew our spirits and our faith.  

I still believe in Santa.  Yep, I never told my children any differently.   The heart of Santa lies within us.  We can still become the giver of gifts to children who need our joy.   We can become what God intended us to be: the provider of hope for others.

  If we replace our dread and despair with the glory of Christmas and share it, we have developed and distributed happiness.

So, the holidays are upon us.  Santa arrives this week amid laughter and song.  Pick up the child within you, take yourself into a Christmas wonderland, and provide joyous celebration wherever you roam. 

You are worth it, and who among us couldn’t use a bit of magic?

Love,

The Crazy Christmas Queen

Every day, a new poll is released by someone regarding different issues in America.   Would you vote for him or her?  Do you believe the economy is the most critical American problem?  Is the country headed in the right direction or not?   Countless polls whose tallies change daily according to what is going on in the news. 

No matter what the polls say about us and how we feel about our society, there is one matter we should agree on…. Thankfulness.  The truth is we are not grateful enough for our blessings.  I mean, none of us… zero, nada, no way, etc.   We can’t vote thankfulness into our world, nor can we convince another to be humbled, but each November, we are reminded to count our blessings.  Does it take a season to remind us to update our appreciation?

If we become more thankful daily, it will cure many of our ills.  One thing is for sure: it would calm our anger and settle our nerves.  Being grateful for the smallest of life’s gifts increases the size of our hearts.  We become more empathetic and understanding.  And the main benefit derived from thankfulness is we see God clearer. 

A year ago

Last year, on Thanksgiving Day, my husband was in a hospital’s Cardiac Care Unit recovering from open heart surgery.   The week prior was a whirlwind of negativity.  He didn’t know there was a problem with his heart until an intelligent physician questioned what we thought was a benign ailment. 

Thanksgiving Thursday was David’s worst day.  A problem arose in recovery due to an erratic heart rate, and for a few hours, I wasn’t so sure about tomorrow.  I spent most of that day staring at a heart monitor, afraid I would miss something significant if I took my eyes off the squiggly lines jumping up and down.  Of course, buzzers blared if something went haywire, but one can never fully trust automation, right?  The polls say some medical equipment might be made in China anyway!

After midnight, I tried to rest near the room’s window, where cool air seeped under the glass.  As I thought about families who had gathered around tables thanking God for their bounty, my prayer that evening was quite simple, “Dear God, get David’s heart rate down!” 

It was nearly 1 am Friday morning when I rose, almost frozen from the seeping air, and walked toward David’s bed, where he was dozing.

A simple prayer

Again, I stared at the monitor.  His heart rate was too high, hovering around 150 beats per minute, and I knew the buzzer would alert the staff at any moment.  “God, please help us!” 

“What does the monitor say?” David woke and asked as he must have felt my panic.  “It’s okay, honey, not too bad.”  I lied, knowing he couldn’t turn to see the actual number on the machine behind him.  Of course, he knew I was lying.

One minute later, I glanced at the numbers again, and his heart rate had dropped to a normal 72 beats per minute.

Folks celebrated last year and thanked God for the feast before them.  They will do the same this year.  The holiday season will arrive on time, and most of us will join the cheer and joy.  

Until last year, I thought I was thankful enough for my life and grateful for the folks in it, but no, I wasn’t.  I am more than thankful to see my husband playing golf or tennis today or getting frustrated when the dust settles on his little red car.

Last Thanksgiving Day, I ate a piece of cheese and drank many cups of coffee.  I didn’t see Santa arrive in a parade, but I watched lines jump on a monitor instead.  I didn’t feel the warmth of family around me but felt cold, damp air seep under the glass.

Beauty is in God’s face

Yet, the beauty of that Thanksgiving Day was I saw God clearly.  How grateful I am for the blessing of life and love and to know that no matter where we are on this Thanksgiving Thursday, there will be God also.

If the Lord were conducting a poll, what would be the questions?  Do we judge others?  Are we influenced by power or kindness?  Do we vote for goodness or evil?  Are we grateful for our blessings?  Is it better to be revengeful or forgiving?

Thank goodness God doesn’t need to conduct polls; He just reads our hearts.  If we remember to be thankful for life and those who share it with us,  we will all see God clearly, and He will lead us where we need to be.

Thanksgiving is a beautiful day, but to be thankful through all our days heals our souls and captures God’s heart.

While we can never do enough to show gratitude to our nation’s defenders, we can always do a little more.”  Gary Sinise

Mr. Sinise is correct; we can always do more to thank our soldiers who line our streets with freedom.  Their sacrifice and courage are often set aside by headlines, political mumbo jumbo, or our personal worlds.  When we become absorbed in our daily routines, we often fail to remember that without them, we would have no political mumbo jumbo or headlines.

Freedom of the press, freedom to vote, and freedom to succeed and worship come at a high price paid for by our past and present heroes.  Our Veterans and fallen soldiers have saved us from ourselves many times over. 

Without independence, we don’t need to look far to see what life resembles.   Women who aren’t allowed to be educated or countries whose daily news events are controlled or censored.  Places where tyrants rule by ego-infused power and armies are fueled by fear.   Lands where children are used as human shields and corruption is apparent.  

Yet, when we do see those who suffer under such evil, do we stop to realize that those who served our nation are the ones who kept us from falling into such horrors? 

Pausing is not enough

We pause to honor our fallen warriors on Memorial Day and our Veterans on their day in November each year.   But pausing is not enough.  Two days is insufficient, and there could never be enough thankfulness. 

Today, 67,495 veterans are homeless.  Furthermore, according to VA Claims Insider, our former military members are two times more likely to become homeless than those who never served.

One million Veterans live below the poverty line, and 4.9 million or 27% of all veterans have a service-related disability.  

A new and troubling report found that 24 veterans per day commit suicide.* Death by suicide is 1.5 times higher than the general population and 2.5 times higher for the women who once served.

So, clearly, after reading those statistics, are two days of gratitude enough?  Is our freedom worth doing a wee bit more?

Our personal divides, our seemingly endless politicizing of everything and everyone, should become secondary to our thankfulness for those who served our great nation.  We must resolve to take care of those who protect us from harm.  We as a nation are obviously not doing enough to protect them. 

Love grows

My love for our service members grew enormously as I aged.  My peers served in Vietnam, and many came home with profound, long-lasting disabilities.  Mental and physical scars accompanied them through life, and those that made it home still grieve for those who didn’t.

These selfless men and women are the best of America.  They continue to serve our nation with dignity, courage, and inspiration. 

On December 6, 2018, a wheelchair-bound World War II veteran rose with help to salute another soldier.  It took all former Senator Bob Dole could physically muster to give a final farewell to his friend and former rival, President George H.W. Bush.  The love of country and their fellow man came before the physical scars they bore.  Ultimately, it was their honor to serve our nation with the class and dignity America should always represent.  

No one who does not understand the sacrifices of those who served our nation and protected our rights should lead our country.   They should never be in Congress or serve in any capacity in government.  With an evident appreciation for our military members, our heroes can maintain hope and avoid dire consequences.

Deliver honor

The best way to honor our Veterans is to live an appreciative life and never undermine their achievements by being insensitive to their needs.   We are still America because of these brave men and women, no matter how self-absorbed we can become or how divided we can be.  As long as they keep up the good fight, we must battle to become better and more appreciative citizens.

 We can open our wallets and hearts and give to those who need our help.  We can demand more support and less rhetoric from our representatives.

So, for more than two days per year, let us do more than pay lip service to our Veterans; let’s unite and care for our heroes.

“Any nation that does not honor its heroes will not long endure.”  President Abraham Lincoln.

We must do more; we must endure.

By the time you read this, hopefully, I will be sailing away.  Yes, we are heading on a much-needed mission to find tranquility.  It’s called vacation, and to be honest, I have never been good at those things.  As a matter of fact, I know God left out the ‘relaxation’ gene when he made me.  

When I do go on vacation, I usually feel somewhat guilty or embarrassed because there is something I should have done or forgot to do before I sat down.  Furthermore, it does bother me to go on such a lavish adventure when so many are suffering today. 

It begs the question, “Why am I so blessed?”  If I’m cold, I turn up the heat.  If I am hungry, I grab a snack in the kitchen.  If I am sick, I call the doctor.  It’s all so easy, isn’t it?   The truth is that most of us are spoiled in our American way of life.  It’s pretty cool to be us, but how and why are we so blessed to be us?

Perhaps God chose us to be the caretakers, the reminders, the kind ones who will promote goodwill.   He blessed us with abundance so we could aid others who have no heat, little food, and no healthcare.  The problem for so many is that we cannot for the life of us remember we are blessed!

Ringing any bells?

Shoot, I get mad when I can’t find my glasses, when the oven doesn’t heat faster, or when David hangs his jeans over anything but a coat hanger.   I want to yell when Amazon is late or when I forget to buy snacks at the store around the corner.  I complain about the high price of gasoline but think nothing about the high price I paid for the car, which requires expensive gas.

Ringing any bells out there?

Remember the old song, “If you worried and you can’t sleep, count your blessings instead of sheep.”  Sometimes, I sing that to my mind in the night when tossing and turning accompanies me to bed.  There, I lay in a warm bed under clean sheets with a roof over my head and worry about whether I have the right clothes for my vacation to tranquility! 

I forgot to replace the worry with thankfulness for the shelter over my head and the warmth of a blanket.  And how do any of us find tranquility when thankfulness is missing?  Impossible. 

No complaint

As we watch the wars rage in other countries with horrific scenes of death and destruction, we must realize that our pettiness has no place right now.  Instead of complaining or arguing, let’s praise God for the gifts He bestowed on this scraggly group of people.   Our fights are no comparison to the battles they endure and the hardships they face. 

When we count our blessings, we subtract our worries, and we strengthen our spirits.

  No, I have never been good at vacations, taking it easy, or resting.  However, perhaps I need to watch the moon fall into the ocean or study a cloud that floats in the sky.  Maybe I need to reflect on the presents the Lord gave me, taking the time to value them more.

 “Come to Me, all you who are weary and carry heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.”  Jesus said in Matthew 11:28

God must know I need to rest for a bit.  He may have to tie me in a chair, but so be it.  I, like many, must take time to reflect, pray, and count my immense blessings. And when I do, I will be more thankful for the jeans that still hang over anything but a coat hanger.

  I know when we stop to smell the rose or breathe in the fresh air, we renew our souls and clear our minds.  I just wish I could take the rest of the world with me to do the same. 

Today, many are living through terrifying and horrific hours.  Children are brutally murdered at the hands of human animals.   Whether the beast is dressed in a pristine suit watching a parade of his Russian troops or the dirty rascals dressed in fatigues in the Middle East, they are still the same: pure evil. 

For most decent people, it is hard to imagine how one becomes soulless, but power, ego, and warped beliefs can destroy anyone’s heart.  Unfortunately, these creatures live among all people everywhere.  How their ability to influence so many with their deranged, narcissistic minds has always been a mystery to me.  I fear it is because when many lose hope, they also lose the ability to care.

When we think, “Well, it doesn’t matter how I vote or what I say because we are doomed anyway,” we open the door to brutality.   Doing so proves that our lives are more important than our children’s.  So, we must never give up or give in for their sake, and we must stand firm against the rabid scoundrels of the world.

The tentacles of these inhumane humans travel far and sneak into safe havens to kill.  If we don’t show that our ‘caring power’ is strong, they will turn off the lights in America.

A juxtaposition

As I watched the news this morning, it seemed an odd juxtaposition between the frenzy of bombs falling in Gaza and Israel and the fever Taylor Swift causes as her Eras Tour movie debuts.  It all appeared remarkably strange yet very American. 

Don’t get me wrong, Taylor brings delight to many with her generosity and warmth, but she also reminded me to be thankful.  Thankful that joy still abides here.  No bombs are falling on this corner of the world… yet.  Happy celebration creates dancing in the aisles when Taylor performs.. for now. 

 At the premiere, the mega star’s elegant blue gown is pristine, her makeup flawless, and her shoes are tinted the same shade of sky blue.

 A world away, a child is barefoot, his face covered in soot, and his clothes are torn and stained with blood.  American youngsters rush to catch a school bus this morning, while in other countries, children run to a bomb shelter.  Yes, American life is normal…today.

Many say, “We just can’t keep giving US money to aid foreign wars!” Yet, how can we not?  Do we believe we are impervious to barbarians who fear nothing?  Clearly, September 11^th, 2001, proved we are not.

If we are concerned about the future world for our children, we and our allies need to keep writing checks.  We must encourage all peace-loving nations and citizens to care enough not to fall prey to those who wish for our fall.  We cannot save the world, but we cannot lose ours because we failed to try.

Roar and not become a victim

Remember, God is not an American, and he is not an isolationist.  He is the father of all humankind.  His message is clear… “Don’t withhold good from someone who deserves it when it is in your power to do so.”  Proverbs 3:27

Apathy is deadly.   The lion will die if the mighty beast does not roar and lazes in the sun, unaware of the hyena slinking behind him.  The hyenas hide in the bushes, waiting for the lion to become impassive and sluggish.

 We must remember to roar.

Our gratitude for living where we are free to roam without constant fear of death is immeasurable.  More importantly, it should never be taken for granted.  Human animals can thrive with very little to steal life from their victims.

We cannot become victims. 

This is the day to stand as one nation.  This is the hour to put our political blame games aside and move our spirits forward.  We must value others, denounce selfishness, and let our goodness shine.  Now is the moment to defeat terrorists lurking on every corner.   It is time to punish the antisemites, the racists, and the haters everywhere.   

Americans should lead the chorus of roars, keep the hyenas away, and destroy the evil lurking in the darkness before they find us sleeping in the sun.

For the love of all nations under God, join hands and pray for terror to end and for those who suffer from the brutal wounds of soulless, barbaric human animals…now.

“Lord, remind me to just breathe and let the cool fall air seep into my senses and calm my soul.   Between ridiculous wars waged in the halls of our Congress and the battles abroad, we need your professional help. 

I often wonder if you are walking away and ending this old world.  I couldn’t blame you much.   For those who have read your book’s last chapter, you are following the words John wrote and what he saw.  Fires, earthquakes, wars, immoral selfish leaders, self-righteous folks, and turmoil fill our earth.  Now Israel attacked?  Wow!

And even though you do know what you are doing, could you give us another chance to do better?

Thank you, Lord.”

I know folks have discussed the end of time since the beginning of time, and who knows when we will be gone, but there is still hope.  So many good folks are still around, even though we all get sidetracked with wackiness occasionally.  We genuinely aren’t that bright; we just think we are.  That may be the main problem.

Power belongs to God

The quest for power is in a race with the pursuit of justice and equality.  Evil, indeed, is battling goodness on many fronts.  Churches are separating into sects, our government is splitting into factions, and often, they can turn folks away from caring at all.

 Every person believes they are correct, and boy, do we argue over our beliefs!  But when our idea of what is right or wrong comes before God’s words, we are all wrong.

Sometimes, I feel the Lord is trying to shake us silly to remind us to first follow Him instead of any earthly power.  We endured a killing plague, wildfires, floods, storms, and some mighty bad Washington behavior, but many still aren’t shaken.

 Some folks blamed others for all the horror we endured instead of working together to find solutions.  We proved the old theory that blaming and hate is much easier than admitting fault and love.

We witness evil proclaiming innocent lives and horrors we cannot comprehend.  However, those who inflame and spread hostility must be held accountable.

Character matters

 My children were put in time out or grounded if they bullied, spoke ill-will, poked fun at others, and disrespected any human soul.  When we elect leaders who do not follow the same principles, it is an affront to godly behavior and civility. 

When I witnessed a well-known political candidate openly mock a disabled reporter during a campaign, I walked outside to my porch and cried.  I have seen everything I taught my children to not do from our presumed government leaders.

 Character matters, and lack of it results in dire consequences.  Does policy come before godly behavior?  Does spreading fear come before the fear of God? 

Many in the political realm gain popularity by promoting ill will, blame, and vengeance.   That’s a shame because they would win and have more support if they were more respectful and showed dignity.  They lose because many American mothers proclaim, “You’re grounded.”

This is not a Republican or Democratic issue but a humanitarian one.  It is not about winning a race but running with grace and God. 

So, which way do we turn?  We saw a smattering of how untruths and lousy behavior can corrupt our nation when our capital was attacked.   How does terrorism begin, or how does a dictator start his reign?  It begins with selfish behavior, lack of fear of God, disrespect for human life, and inaction by those who believe in peace.

Kindness does not kill

“Lord, help all people to see you on the road, stop and offer you a ride through the hills and valleys of our entire existence.”

For each person to aid those in need and demonstrate love will advance goodness instead of evil.  We can be less combative and listen to others by being more open-minded and courteous.  Kindness does not kill. 

It is easy to be thoughtful and compassionate if we raise awareness of the benefits.  We can prevent many disasters if we try to help the Lord and fear His judgment instead of judging others.  If we applaud respectfulness, tolerance, and understanding, we can remind the world of the goodness of our nation.

“And Lord, help us all to breathe the cool air of autumn, feel the warmth of your love, and find peace.  For we know you will win the ultimate battle.”

“If anyone respects and fears God, he will hate evil.  For wisdom hates pride, arrogance, corruption, and deceit of every kind.”  Proverbs 8:13

A reader recently wrote a note to an editor after my column appeared in their Sunday morning paper.  “I cannot tell you how much I enjoy your weekly faith articles since we don’t get much good news anymore.” 

After the editor passed it on, I responded to the gentleman’s email with a big thank you and how he made my day.   I thought about his words for quite a while and realized how his kindness was passed through several people before it landed in front of my eyes. 

Passing kindness is always good news. 

  From acts of tenderness to love and charity, we heal and grow by the arm of faith.  The headlines will change if we apply that good news to each event around us.  It takes a deep commitment to put our belief in God into all aspects of our lives, and it isn’t easy.  It’s not supposed to be.

I have shared this analogy before, but it is worth repeating. 

Braving the Downpour

 When she emerged from the store, it was raining so hard she could hardly locate her car in the parking lot.  Her umbrella provided little protection as she emptied her store cart and tossed the bags into her SUV. 

What was she to do with the buggy?   She paused momentarily and ran with the cart in tow to return it to the front of the store.

 She was completely soaked when she returned to her car.

 A man appeared and opened her car door for her.  Shocked, she gazed at the perfectly dry gentleman.  Before she could speak, he declared, “Daughter, you chose not to let another endure the storm’s wrath, so you braved the downpour and returned the cart.  I see all things and am aware of all deeds.” 

How many times have we left a cart in the parking lot for someone else to deal with?  Is that using our faith?  Do we need to realize that God does view all our actions and hears all our words.?

Provide good news by caring enough for others to get soaked by the rain. 

Wisdom

While my brother and grandfather were in the living room in a robust exchange over politics, I was in the kitchen with Grandpa, my grandmother. 

“Listen to those two!” She declared as she shook her head and rolled her eyes. 

“I hear them, but why do you not express your ideas about government or politicians?  Who do you side with, Grandpa?”   I questioned.

“My views on such things are simple.  Folks can become all educated in policy and get fiery over who and what they believe is best for America.  Shoot, they only need to read the Bible to learn most all things and then apply it to government leaders.  When we take God out of everything, we lose all.  They ain’t no winnin’ if God ain’t in it!” She finished with a snicker. 

I don’t recall a word that was said in the living room among two scholarly guys, but I distinctly remember the words of my elementary-educated grandmother. 

Godly wisdom is good news.  

Creating good news

Remember Saul?  He was one nasty dude who could create havoc like no one else.  Oh, he was religious, alright, and believed totally in his ways and rules.  That is until God got a hold of him and shined a light on Saul by casting him into darkness. 

Yet, in that blackness, Saul found the light.  St. Paul was reborn not of the flesh but of the soul, and thus, changed the world.  We can change the world also if we become bearers of light instead of darkness. 

 It begins with each of us creating good news for others and pleasing our heavenly Father.  If our deeds do not represent compassion, grace, forgiveness, understanding, love, and faith, we will never be great nor worthy of someone holding a door open for us to escape a storm. 

Forgiveness and the ability to change is good news!

Our faith is not only about our religion.  It is about our love and understanding of God.  We can go to a worship service every time the doors open, but it is a waste of time if we don’t use what we learn there daily.   Remember, God watches not how we sit in the pews but how we walk among the crowds.

So, forgive me if I sound preachy; I am nothing but a sinner.  Most of the mistakes I make are because I didn’t return the cart in the rain, so to speak.  I didn’t put the love of God or others before myself.  

If all sinners join hands and use our faith to guide us to follow His words, we can escape the storms.

And that’s the good news!

For several years, I have grieved, stewed, yelled, and prayed over the state of our states.  I have read, studied, and written about the effects of hatred, division, anger, and distrust.  Somedays, I am disheartened by how some folks value politics, conspiracies, and money more than they do living a loving, compassionate life.  Which, to me, is an affront to God. 

One of my editors recently told me after I sent her my weekly column, “Lynn, if you need a break, please take one.”  She must have read between the words that the state of our states was really getting to me.  Even though I tried to mask much anguish by providing encouraging words, it wasn’t hiding from her skills as an editor and friend.

Our tension and despair can hurt much more than our state of mind; it can affect all of us physically.  Here I am today, hooked up to the heart monitor to see if my electrical system is off, and if that’s not it, then I am just as I have always been: a bit off. 

“Have you been stressed more than normal?” My doctor asked recently.  The simple answer was, “Yes!”  Sometimes, until someone asks, you don’t realize how much life has worn you down or thrown too many curves.

From family issues to the chronic and caustic state of our states, politicians, and government, we could all use a heart monitor to see if we are still ticking.  Or better yet, to see if our hearts are in the right place. 

Courage to face heartache

While lying in the hospital a week ago, I tried to avoid the news but couldn’t help but notice a little girl standing alone in the middle of ruins and ash in the streets of her bomb-riddled Ukrainian village.  It bothered me so badly that I changed the channel to watch football playing in a dome in America. 

The stark contrast hit me like a ton of bricks.  Today, some no longer want to help Ukraine because of the money spent.  I understand the many arguments, but will we advance as a nation if we do not provide aid?  How do we ignore such grief because we prefer to switch channels and enjoy a football game, a rocket ride, or play the stock market?

When Putin’s Russia initially attacked Ukraine, we flew to their rescue.  I naively thought this might bring us together as a nation.  Unite us in a concentrated effort to help someone else endure a crisis.  Americans do not understand such horror because we are blessed not to live where bombs fall around us. 

 Giving to someone does put our hearts in the right place, but politics and money now dampen the resolve today.  It is easy to change the channel when we are tired of witnessing daily horrors abroad.    

To continue to aid Ukraine may not be the most economically feasible thing to do, but is it the right thing to do?  Yes.  Do we feel good when we turn our attention away from others’ pain?  No.

Repeating history?

 Avoiding and ignoring dictators, bullies, and the antics of those who crave power has advanced depravity.  How many millions died at the hands of Hitler before we united to defeat a monstrous killer?  Such evil power only falls when met with a greater force.

History has a unique way of repeating itself, doesn’t it?  Could it be God must keep reminding us of what is more valuable, our hearts or our wallets?  We know the answer; it’s just our minds that get in the way.

 I notice the stress from daily turmoil is ebbing when I turn my back on the trouble, but should I?  No.  With courage, I must again watch the little girl on the streets alone.   

She must be searching for something extraordinarily tiny and valuable among the ashes.   All she knows is that her school, church, and home are gone, but she keeps digging to find what someone stole. 

The scarf tied around her head is soaked from the steady rain, yet she has no safe shelter nearby.  She prays as she looks to the gray sky as if God will give her a clue to locate the object of her search. 

Hope is a difficult thing to find when all you have is gone. 

“But if someone has material possessions and sees a brother or sister in need but refuses to help – how can the love of God dwell in a person like that?”  1 John 3:17

Our brothers and sisters live far beyond our shores in a place where a child walks alone among the ruins.  The love of God must continue to dwell in the hearts of America. 

I am writing to you from a room that needs refreshing.  The paint color is not horrible, but some of it is gone.   I would get right to work if I had a bucket of good latex.  However, applying putty to fill many nail holes and climbing a ladder from a hospital bed is problematic.  When one is imprisoned and chained to hoses, wires, and whatever that thing is above me, forget doing anything.   Trust me, I tried escaping, but sirens blared, and police dressed in scrubs quickly cuffed me.  Darn.

Everything was just fine Saturday morning after a great night’s sleep.  My day was planned to the minute.  First, I would exercise with the girls in my garage gym, change bed lines, do laundry, and wash my hair.   I couldn’t wait till the evening when I was to meet old friends at a charity benefit.

However, I never returned to the house to accomplish a thing.  I, instead, made it to the back of an ambulance with a handsome young paramedic named Ian.

The last minutes of our exercise routines usually require mat work.  After doing a few without a problem, I suddenly became faint.  Couldn’t get my head together to save my life.  I would almost pass out whenever the girls tried to sit me up.   My friends and husband grabbed a blood pressure cuff to check the numbers. 

I don’t have high blood pressure, but for some strange unknown reason, it decided to blast to the moon for a visit with ET.  Trust me, rocket rides are not for the faint of heart… literally.

Life’s rude interruptions

So, Ian and his ambulance, a fire truck, and a few strange men and women found themselves at my gym.  Poor things lifted me onto a gurney, and I pray they have a stash of Ben Gay in their homes. 

Uh-Oh!  Now, folks were coming at me with needles, machines, dye, and other contraptions I cannot explain.   I learned quickly that a patient defying the norm requires many tests.  I now have sincere empathy for the mighty lab rat. 

Doctor after doctor asked the same questions; they seemed more bumfuzzled each time.  One brilliant one said it could be related to “old age.”  He is now in the room beside me, suffering from well-placed punches.   “Sorry ’bout that, Doctor Young’un.”

No, it doesn’t appear I will be “moving on up to the deluxe apartment in the sky” just yet, but who knows when our show will be canceled.  I understand now that most things we go through have a purpose. 

Life is full of watershed moments, and this could be one.  I have always been a strong caretaker, and the thought of needing aid was unthinkable.  Nope, it will never happen; I was invincible.  Why else would I keep lifting weights?

To tell me to slow down is perfectly ridiculous, but for a minute or two, the scrub police say I must.  Darn.

Yep, just a mortal

But, alas, I realize I am the same as everyone else.  We can fall, fail, fumble, or faint at any moment.  And when we do, we need help, even when we hate to ask. 

I know life does not last forever, but when there are wires, tubes, and peeling paint around you, it puts an exclamation point on it.  So, we must live it to the fullest while we are well enough to do so.  And never take the air we breathe or the people we love for granted. 

Appreciation and empathy are born from experiences and mainly from the bad ones.  I now have an intense desire to free a lab rat.

As I stare at the ceiling tiles, I hope at the end of my life journey, I find someone’s life was touched by my words, been forgiven by those I hurt, and tossed a dose of kindness into the air.  Most of all, I pray that God smiles when He greets me at the deluxe apartment in the sky.

So, this whole experience humbles me to remember that I am but a speck on earth, like everyone else who exists for a moment in time.  We must live, love, and learn till the end and make our hours count for the good of all.

“How do you know what is happening tomorrow?  For the length of our lives is as uncertain as the morning fog… now you see it; soon it is gone.” James 4:14

Recently, a bout of sleepless, restless, nightmare-filled nights accompanied me to bed.  I am not a huge worrier, but lately, fretting, anger, and anxiety have chosen to rest on my soul, especially when I desire to sleep!  Not fair!

Other than our personal journeys today, we are citizens of a country that appears all discombobulated.  Some folks seek calm, while others stoke fear.  Some work diligently to feed their families, while others steal for themselves.  While many preach law and order, some don’t trust the law.  A few believers in the Almighty hurl insults and threats, thus turning others away from faith.  And that, my friends, is just the tip of the iceberg in my sea of worry.

Am I losing faith in America?

“God, I need to rest, so help me escape the turbulence around me.  I know I will face its reality tomorrow, but I will accomplish more if you slay the demons ringing in my ears.”  I asked the Lord recently. 

 Sure enough, I slept well because He sent me to a place that gave me peace and assurance.  He transmitted me back in time to view how others survived sleepless nights and stormy days.

Tennessee 1810

The year was 1810, and Mary Polly was sweeping the floor of her small inn in the Tennessee mountains.  Her children made her laugh as she playfully shooed them with her apron when they ran around the dining tables.  She knew she would toss and turn with worry and grief later.  

Mary prayed each night, “Lord, please provide me the strength needed to survive these turbulent days.” 

It had been over a year since her husband, John, died unexpectedly, leaving her the inn and five small children to care for.  To laugh seemed like a guilty pleasure, an oddity, but she welcomed any joy.

It was a late summer afternoon when she saw a dusty covered wagon stop in front of the inn.  Two young gentlemen strolled in, looking for a home-cooked meal and a place to stay for a spell. 

 Like many others, they explained they were heading west to find good farmland and a new life.  Benjamin was the chatty older one of the two, and his bright smile and clear blue eyes radiated a gentle, discerning warmth.

After a few days, Mary was laughing more, and her nights were less restless.  Who was this Benjamin, and why was she suddenly excited to pour his coffee each morning?

Love conquers

Benjamin and his brother stayed on the mountain.  He and Mary  Polly wed two years later and began to live a life running the inn and farming the rich soil.  Their union delivered seven more children into the world, and each one added more laughter around the tables.

The family befriended President Andrew Jackson, who always stopped by the inn on his way to Nashville.  He thought Mary Polly prepared the finest eggs in the world, and he loved playing with all of Ben and Mary’s crazy young’uns. 

However, life was far from easy back then.  Wars, disease, crop failures, and uncertainty accompanied the family’s daily happiness. 

As the children grew, so did their restlessness.  Benjamin Walker’s family was always adventuresome, and Mary knew it.   Their oldest son left home to travel to the new Arkansas territory, and soon, wagon trains were journeying together, heading west.  By 1840, all their children were gone except for the youngest, named after their friend, Andrew Jackson.

Finally, approaching old age, Benjamin and his wife waved goodbye to Andrew and his growing brood.   The couple began the trek that Benjamin had started years before.  They reached the rest of the family in Arkansas, but within a short period, tragedy befell the couple.

Mary Polly died in 1857, and Benjamin followed her in 1859.  Both succumbed to disease and typhoid fever. 

The Point

Their frontier days were filled with angst, stress, fear, and sleepless nights that we do not fully understand today.   Yet, they boldly paved the way for us to follow.  Their lives inspired generations to believe America was the land of hope, faith, and courage.

Remembering the story of my heritage and those who bravely forged their way through the mountains and valleys to seek a better life, find love, and flourish encourages my confidence in all of us. 

So, the story’s point is if we go back in time and remember those fearless enough to build this land, we must be courageous and courteous enough to not tear it apart with our discombobulated, often ungrateful, hate-filled attitudes.   When we search our history, we understand that the love of country and each other will prevent us from drowning in a sea of worry.

God always pulls us away from the crashing waves if we ask him to calm the waters.

On a cold January day in 1946, their fourth child, a girl, was born in a one-room cabin in the hills of Tennessee.  More babies arrived in the following years, and the parents had little to offer their twelve children except for music, love, and faith. 

When the spirited girl with dimpled cheeks walked to school in her hand-sewn clothes and dusty shoes, she would often be teased and mocked because she was poor.  But even though she was tiny, she stood proudly tall.  Perhaps, her mama read the Bible to her youngsters each day, and her child recalled the words, “It is easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than a rich man to enter the Kingdom of God.  “Those bullying kids were like the camels and would have trouble getting into heaven while she would fly right on in!  “That’ll teach ’em!” Little Dolly thought.

God must have looked down on the mountain child that day and given her a spirit of courage and love that would eventually change countless lives.  The Lord continued walking with Dolly, blessing her with a song in her heart and gratitude in her soul.

I was questioned years ago, “Who would you invite to dinner if you could ask anyone living in the world today?” 

“Well, I guess if Jesus isn’t available, it would be Dolly Parton.”  

Shocked at my response, they simply replied, “Why?!”

Something about her

I had left Tennessee when Dolly began singing with Porter Wagner, but I remember catching a glimpse of her on television.  At the time, I didn’t love country music even though I came from the land where the Ole Opry is revered.  It wasn’t the music that sparked my interest in her; it was something more.  There was something that I understood without understanding why.

Could it be because I sound like Dolly with the same Tennessee mountain twang that must form in the blood?  One cannot change it, and I have often said it would be an insult to my ancestors if I did.  Because we are nearly the same age, I have watched Dolly from afar grow from a little mountain girl to owning the mountain!

So, Robert and Avie Lee Parton’s girl became an icon, a movie star, a bigger-than-life presence, a builder of dreams, a singer/songwriter, an aunt, a sister, a wife, and a faithful steward of God.

Dolly Parton is one of those rare folks who doesn’t let fame inflate her ego nor allow money to empower her unless it is through philanthropy.  She understands that her gifts are blessings and knows how to use them to bless others.

 These types of people don’t spread gossip, shout, belittle, or shame anyone because they understand they are living only for a while.  They know they will go home where Mom and Dad are waiting, and the light shines eternal.  People like Dolly are brilliant enough to know it is not what you make of yourself on earth; it is what you give of yourself to all.

The benefits of being kind

Amazon founder Jeff Bezos recently awarded Dolly Parton his “Courage and Civility Award,” presenting her with $100 million.  Why would he give so much to someone who has so much?   He understands that a big heart will use gifts wisely, and a humble spirit will fly miles spreading compassion, kindness, and hope.  She has proven her worth by the value of her soul. 

If we want to learn about leadership and charity, don’t look much further than a tiny Tennessee woman who sends books to the children of Appalachia.  She aims to whip illiteracy and open doors for impoverished children to become rich with knowledge.   When fires flame, tornados or floods ravage, or diseases need cures, she is there with a pen and checkbook, a song, and a loud voice. 

Dolly laughs at herself and never at others.  She treats everyone with respect and knows the heartache and scars that folks carry when others are made to feel less.

No, we need to look no further than the Parton’s fourth child, who thankfully listened to her parents and believed God was the only way to greatness.  

Politics, policies, and trends change like the wind, but goodness and benevolence never will because God never changes.  

With her infectious smile, Humorous Dolly said, “It costs a lot of money to look this cheap!”  

Dolly Rebecca Parton also proclaimed, “If your actions create a legacy that inspires others to dream more, learn more, do more, and become more, then you are an excellent leader.”

And the Lord still leads her down the mountain path toward home.

While recently thumbing through my old Tennessee and Georgia high school yearbooks, tears pooled in my eyes.  Yes, they were all there, young men with hope in their eyes and their youth on the edge of disappearing. I wonder what they would have accomplished in their lives if they had the promise of a future.

 Would they laugh as I do at the silly antics of a grandchild?  Would they still possess the impish grin the camera caught in the 60s? Maybe Howard would have made it onto the big screen with his good looks.  Perhaps Bobby would be a renowned physician today, and Larry would have climbed up the ranks in his beloved army before retiring to Florida. 

However, the maybe’s left when they all boarded a military bus to serve our nation while a war escalated in Vietnam.  They, like so many, returned only to be laid to rest in their hometown cemeteries before they had a chance to see what could have been.

Bearing a scar

These young men joined the service as so many do to become soldiers of war.  They are the elite among us who, I believe, God anoints with an extra dose or more of courage.  These soldiers go blindly into battle to defend the land they love.  They steadfastly look out for each other and often give their lives to save their comrades.

The Vietnam warriors were no different in character and honor as those who bravely fought for our Independence.  They held the same gritty spirit as those who battled before them in the Revolutionary War or World War I and II, as well as all other conflicts.  Thousands of soldiers have responded to the call to serve, but the warriors of Vietnam bear a scar.

By the time our troops were pulled from Vietnam in 1973, over 52,000 young soldiers had perished.  Between 1964 and 1975, 2,709,918 men and women wore an American military uniform in Nam.  240 of them were awarded the Medal of Honor as Bobby Ray was for saving many lives, except his own. Of those killed in combat, 61% were younger than 21. Just out of school, just beginning to dream, just starting a future.   

Also, in 1973, America’s electorate was deeply divided, and some say the military was demoralized.  So, for those who returned from the rice paddies and trenches, ships, the skies, and prisons of Vietnam, there were no homecoming parades or bands of screaming, happy folks in Times Square to greet them. Instead, Vietnam was simply over for America.

Never blame the warrior

Today, those fallen Vietnam soldiers are immortalized on a wall in Washington, D.C.  For those who lost friends or loved ones whose names are etched in this wall, the war is not forgotten, nor is the sacrifice.   We are the older generation now, and our young faces are alongside those in the yearbooks who remain ageless. 

Today, 610,000 courageous Vietnam Veterans are still walking among us.  Of those who risked their lives in Southeast Asia, 97% were honorable discharged even though many were drafted for service.

Even after hearing countless stories of the heroism and bravery shown by our American troops during the second-longest war in our history, they returned home to be treated harshly by many for just doing what they were asked to do. Unfortunately, this response created a loss of self-esteem and grief for many young soldiers, leading to future deep-seated problems.  

Our worst divisive behavior is the scar of Vietnam.  The wound was not caused by the soldiers.  The injury was inflicted by the free citizens who remained on American soil that turned their anger toward those sent to battle.  

We can fairly charge those in government or politics for most anything but not the bravest, best, and the most elite among us. So we should never blame the warrior, nor the ones who suffer and give the most.  Nor the over 150,000 who were wounded in Vietnam, or the prisoners of war, or those missing in action.

Take the time to notice the brave soldiers

I look into the eyes of my framed Vietnamese doll my brother sent me in 1965.  She has my POW/MIA bracelet around her waist to remember another pilot whose remains were finally located a few years ago.   My brother lived until 1998, but his time spent in Vietnam was always fresh in his heart.  I, too, vow to honor those who gave so much to receive so little.  

Memorial Days will come and go, but this year stop for a moment, look around, and notice the brave soldiers of long ago and celebrate them.

Maybe it will help heal the scar a divided nation caused and remind us never to produce such a wound again.  

“It is foolish and wrong to mourn the men who died.  Rather, we should thank God that such men lived.”  General George S. Patton, Jr.