Eliot

About two years ago I was following the blog of a miraculous little boy named Eliot. You can read all about him and his dedicated parents by clicking here:
http://mattandginny.blogspot.com/2006_10_01_mattandginny_archive.html
Today, his life's story was told on Oprah. His parents made this beautiful video, which I know you will enjoy. I must warn you, however...have Kleenex nearby!

Car Commercial

A friend of mine sent me this interesting car commercial. While taping it, the producers thought they noticed a ghostly shape on the screen. Sure enough, if you look very closely you are able to see it. You may not detect it the first time, so you may have to replay it, but it sure looks like a ghost to me! Tell me what you think...

Trinity Memories

Many people have asked me to write about the chapel service that I gave at Trinity Christian College. I wish had a way to download my speech, but somehow it disappeared! I will do my best to share with you what I shared with the students a few weeks ago.

I began my talk by sharing with them that the last time that I spoke on campus was 34 years ago. It was May, 1974. I was asked to be the main speaker at out Baccalaureate Service. It was, indeed, an honor to speak, but I still remember feeling highly inadequate for the task. I vividly remember sharing thoughts on Psalm 23 and reminding the class of '74 that while we were about to begin new adventures and go in different directions, the one constant in all of our lives would be our faithful Shepherd. Back then, as a bright-eyed, naive young woman, I didn't have a clue about the many twists and turns that my life was about to begin...all I set my eyes on were the green pastures and still waters!

I shared with them what a different campus it was from the days when I called Trinity "home". Back then we didn't have computers or ipods, we had typewriters and stereos with speakers the size of a twin mattress (and all the sound quality of a walkie-talkie!) Our dorms didn't even have names! We just called them Dorm 1, Dorm 2, and Dorm 3. The men were only allowed to visit our rooms on Sunday evenings. We didn't even have a gym my first semester! I told them that they were looking at an ancient relic of the past that actually attended the very first basketball game ever held in the Mitchell Gymnasium!

I then shared about the day my husband drove me and our four children to Ocean Springs, Mississippi. I told them to look closely the next time they were on I 65, (which goes from Indiana all the may to Mobile, Alabama) because I am certain the marks are still visible where I dug in my heels and tried to resist this move with every fiber of my being! This move was talking me into uncharted waters, away from my family and friends and home.

I tried to paint a picture for the students of the initial shock and confusion I experienced as I took my first guarded steps into Southern culture. On my first Sunday in church I met a man named Rhett! I felt like I was on the back lot of Gone With the Wind! (In all my 25 years of living there, however, I never did meet a Scarlett! Plenty of Billy Bobs and Amy Sues, but no Scarletts!)

Ocean Springs is a quaint little town. It's Main Street is lined on either side with huge, majestic Live Oak trees. And you can't walk a block in the spring without seeing an Azalea bush in full bloom or smelling the sweet scent of Gardenias. Most of the homes have porches, and every porch has a swing (or "swang" as it is called in the South). Everywhere we went we were offered iced tea (only they pronounce it as "tay"). And everyone knows iced "tay" must be sweet (pronounced "sue wait"). We learned that people don't get tired in the South, they get "tarred", and women don't iron clothes, they "arn". Even my name "Joyce" sounded more like "Joy as".

It is a charming, idyllic, artsy little haven, nestled on the backwater of the Gulf of Mexico. And then, in 2005, Hurricane Katrina hit. Hard! Within minutes hundreds of homes were destroyed by a 27 foot tidal wave. I shared some of the experiences that we had with our insurance company and with FEMA. I tried to give mental pictures of how the beautiful Oak trees were suddenly bare, stripped of their leaves and their majesty. To this day they look more like old gnarled, arthritic hands reaching out to the heavens.

Then I shared with them how very real Psalm 23 became to me as I slowly trudged through each day. I showed them how the pronoun that David uses for the Shepherd changes in the Psalm. In the first verses, David uses the third person singular to refer to the Shepherd (He makes me to lie down, He restores, He leads, He guides). But look what happens when David gets to the rough spots. "Though I walk through the shadow of the valley of death...You are with me. Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me. You prepare, You annoint..." David switches to the second person singular pronoun because when he finds himself in the valley, he realizes he is not alone...the Shepherd is walking right beside him. That's what I experienced during the dark days...my faithful Shepherd walked beside me. And there were many days that the Shepherd carried me.

I closed by sharing how my Katrina experience made me long for my heavenly home...a permanent place that can't be destroyed. And I like to think of Jesus taking me by the hand and walking with me down the streets of gold and stopping at a house. Jesus will ask me, "Joyce, do you remember that I promised to prepare a place for you? Well, this is your place!"

My home! My permanent home! And do you know what? I know I'm a Yankee, but I hope my yard has a Magnolia tree and plenty of Azalea bushes. And I hope I have a big front porch with a "swang"! And when we meet each other up there, we can "sit a spell" and share our "Shepherd stories". Oh, and one more thing...I'll be sure to have plenty of "sue wait tay" ready!!!

What a day, glorious day, that will be!!!!!

Cardboard Signs

She was there again this morning...the nameless woman with the cardboard sign. She plants herself at the busy intersection and holds up her sign, telling those of us stopped at the light that she is hungry and needs money. Since moving to Houston I have encountered several of these signs. One day it might be a veteran needing work, another day it will be a pregnant woman with four hungry children that need help with food and rent. What should our personal response be to these people?

I don't have an answer. I do, however, have a tender heart. It is painful for me to see people beg. One time Bill and I were leaving Wal Mart when an old man appeared with his well-worn sign. The sign indicated that he was hungry, so I pleaded with my husband to stop. We invited the man to eat lunch with us. It became increasingly evident that this man was not "playing with a full deck". As we sat there in Subway and tried to engage in meaningful conversation, he prattled on about the spirits that lived in the woods. He barely touched his meal and never said "thanks". It was confusing to me. I wanted to help; I wanted to take him home, let him take a long shower, I wanted him to feel clean, I wanted to replace his tattered clothes. I feel somehow that I failed this man.

But another observation I have made is that I see the same beggars all over Houston. I drive a lot for my job and throughout my day I often see that "Mary", who was on the west side of Houston on Monday, mysteriously shows up thirty-five miles to the east on Tuesday. Are these professional beggars? I have no idea. My point on this blog is not to condemn, but merely state that I'm still trying to figure out how to handle these street people.

A friend recently sent me an interesting You Tube video depicting another kind of cardboard sign. These people in the video are also nameless, holding merely their cardboard sign. Their signs, however, convey a message of hope.

O Love That Will Not Let Me Go

Tonight has been a difficult one for me. I have come to a "crossroad" - a difficult fork in the road - and while I know logically what decision I need to make, I don't want to. It's too hard. It involves letting go of something/someone dear to me, and I am tired of letting go. I don't want to go through another loss right now.

That being said, my mind traveled back to another time when I had to let go, and I just felt like I couldn't. I had just learned that our precious son, David, had autism. That diagnosis was so hard to hear. The words stung and fear consumed me. How could I handle that? It seemed to signify a loss of the hopes and dreams that I had for our little boy. But God had another plan, a better plan. Today I can look over the years, and I can thank God for the autism. David has been a constant source of joy and love and laughter. He has enabled us to see life from a different perspective.

But in the the early years, it was hard, so very hard. To see our son be laughed at by his peers, to have adults make insensitive remarks, to feel like no one could relate to my pain...those years were tough. And it was during those years that I would put in a tape by Cynthia Clawson and just weep. The song I grew to love was entitled, O Love That Will Not Let Me Go. It was like applying salve to my injured heart. Tonight, my heart hurts again. And just like I did years ago, I listened to this song. And once again the lyrics served to remind me that while I might have to hold things loosely and let some things go, God will never do that to me. He has always held me, and will continue to hold me close, and tight, and He won't ever let me go.

So tonight, once again, I give my weary soul to my faithful Shepherd and trust that He will lead me, guide me, and sustain me.

O Love that wilt not let me go, I rest my weary soul in thee: I give thee back the life I owe, that in Thine ocean depths its flow may richer, fuller be.

O light that foll’west all my way, I yield my flick’ring torch to Thee; My heart restores its borrowed ray, that in Thy sunshine’s blaze its day may brighter, fairer be.

O Joy that seekest me through pain, I cannot close my heart to Thee; I trace the rainbow through the rain, and feel the promise is not vain, that morn shall tearless be.

O Cross that liftest up my head, I dare not ask to fly from Thee; I lay in dust life’s glory dead, and from the ground there blossoms red, life that shall endless be.

Happy Birthday, David!

Twenty-four years old!! How did THAT happen? Somehow, magically, my children are getting older than I am! Yeah, dream on!! David turned 24 today, and we had a wonderful celebration!
Here is a brief trip down memory lane...

My little guy, all tired out after his baptism

Mom, Nancy, Karen, David, and I

His "Rocky Balboa" Look

With his Grandpa at the cottage

Taking Time To Smell the Flowers

Celebrating His 24th At Outback

These Two Have A Very Special Bond

Happy Birthday, David! You are a WONDERFUL son and your family loves you very much!! We cherish your sense of humor and your unique way of viewing life! You bring us so much joy and we are so thankful that God chose us to be your parents! Continue to enjoy the journey!

Two Very Proud Parents!

To those of you who have never met David, we want you to know that
you are looking at the face of Autism. David has walked a very difficult road, but has fought valiantly against this horrible disability. He has taught us all so much about life and continues to enrich our lives in countless ways.

Another Chocolate Chip

If you don't understand the title of this entry, read the post from Saturday. That being said, I had a wonderful weekend with my sister, Karen, and her husband, Harv!

Sister Karen

Brother-in-law, Harvey

Karen and Harv called on Friday, stating they were in San Antonio and would arrive at our home on Saturday. They were on the return leg of their road adventure. They left Grand Rapids two weeks earlier and followed Route 66 from Chicago, Illinois to Santa Monica, California. They took their van and graciously agreed to stow away some of my stuff that needed to make the trip from Michigan to Texas. So not only did they make the historic journey, they made the historic journey with some of my beloved heirlooms! Thanks, Kare and Harv!!! I'm glad to report that all my stuff arrived in perfect condition!! Kare and Harv both turned 66 this year, so they decided it was the perfect time to "get their kicks on Route 66!" It's not an easy trip because the highway has numerous stops and starts, twists and turns, abrupt stops and confusing directions. Their GPS got a real workout! Anyway, they found their way to our house, and it was a real treat to spend some time with them.

Kare and I went to a birthday party in the evening for one of my students. It was a genuine Mexican fiesta, complete with a pinata. We had great fun trying new foods, especially the tres leches birthday cake! YUM!! We both enjoy Nicholas Sparks novels, so we also took in his latest movie, Nights in Rodanthe. Good times!

On Sunday we went to our church and had fun introducing them to some of our new Houston friends. It was funny for Kare and I to hear people tell us how much we look alike! NEVER in my whole entire life have I heard those words. Karen and Nancy have always looked alike , and I have always looked like...well, let's just say my sisters always told me that I was adopted!!

Next, they treated us to one of our favorite little eating places, Santos. After a fabulous Mexican meal, it was nap time and then the evening service at church. After a light supper, Kare taught me how to play Dumb Dice. I won! But Kare is the queen of all games, so I have a funny feeling she let me win!

This morning they left and headed for Iowa. They have a grandson, Brian, that attends Doordt College, and they hope to visit him before returning home.

Like I mentioned in an earlier post, I don't get to see my sisters very often, so I felt doubly blessed to be with Nancy two weeks ago, and with Kare this past weekend! There's nothing like family!

Sisters and Chocolate Chips

My Sisters

Someone once said, "If families are like cookies, then sisters are the chocolate chips." Everyone that knows me, knows how much I love chocolate, but I love my sisters even more. For most of my adult life, I have lived far away from my sisters, making our time together rare and far too infrequent. But, much to my delight, I have been able to spend last weekend with Nancy and this weekend with Karen!

Last weekend Nancy was my rock, my confidante, my encourager, my stylist, my partner in crime! On Thursday, we took off in her little red convertible and headed to Chicago. I was scheduled to speak at Trinity Christian College and she came with me. We made many stops along the way.

First stop, Clementines

Our first stop was our favorite restaurant in St. Joseph, Michigan. It was a gorgeous day, and we were able to eat on the patio outside. Next stop was shopping - a close second in our favorite-things-to-do list! We spent just a short time at the Outlet Mall in Michigan City. Then off to Chicago! We stayed just south of Chicago for the first night. I had to speak the next day, so poor Nancy had to listen to my speech ad nauseum and she also had to help me choose what to wear.

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At Trinity

After my speech, I had an Alumni Board meeting, so Nancy spent the day shopping. We met up again at 5 P.M. and took the train downtown. We discovered that Nancy has been blessed with a wonderful gift of direction! I mean, she can hold her own against any GPS system. This girl is good!!! And so, with her help, we were able to navigate the train system - from the Orange Line to the Red Line - plus a stop at Roosevelt - and somehow make it to the Marriott on Michigan Avenue!

Nancy, on the train, demonstrating her gift of direction

Finding our room, was a bit more more of a challenge. We checked in and found our room, only to discover the room had not been cleaned. We called the front desk and were given another room. We opened the door to the second room, only to be greeted by a noisy floor fan. Apparently, "something" had overflowed and they were trying to get the carpet to dry. Yuck! By this time we were on a first name basis with Ray, the front desk guy. He personally came up and ushered us to room number three. He opened the door, backed up, and said, "I'm so sorry for all this confusion!" By this time, Nancy and I were beyond exhausted and short of a dead body under the bed, we were willing to take anything! He said room #3 had a King bed and we had asked for doubles. We said it didn't matter and we would be more than happy to take room #3. It was lovely. We were on the 45th floor and had a spectacular view of the city. We even saw fireworks over Lake Michigan from our window! We hadn't eaten yet, so we headed out to our favorite pizza place - Giordano's.

World's best spinach and cheese stuffed pizza!

Ray called us when we returned to our room. Because of all the delays, we were to come to the front desk and have our keys "re-keyed". This would allow us to go to a private lounge every morning and enjoy a free breakfast! WHOOHOO!

Fresh fruit, fresh orange juice, fresh Danish...and all FREE!

Next stop, Michigan Avenue ...my favorite street!

We had a BEAUTIFUL day!

A delightful lunch at the Hershey store!

We went to the evening performance of Wicked

Opals and Rubies and Resurrection Power

The year was 1997. It was a beautiful, cloudless Fall day, much like today. It was Friday, October 3. David was in seventh grade, Elise in fourth, Bill was working at Ingalls and I was helping out in our friend's office. The phone rang at the office and it was Tim. Gina was in labor! I was so thrilled to get that call. When their oldest son was born, just 18 months earlier, it seemed as if everything moved too quickly. Gina had been ordered on bed rest as she patiently waited the arrival of her firstborn son, when suddenly she had a seizure and was whisked away by ambulance to the hospital. Gina was not awake for the delivery, and Tim was not allowed into the delivery room. The birth of a healthy son was a joyous ending for both of them, but the process was disappointing. So here they were again, ready to deliver their second son. And this time things were moving along normally. I jumped every time the office phone rang, convinced that it would be Tim ready to share some exciting news! In no time it was three o'clock...time for me to leave the office and pick up the kids from school. I found it odd, almost unbearable, that I still hadn't received any news.

Then, out of nowhere, the phone pierced the silence of our home. Elise ran to the phone and picked up on one phone, while I picked up at the same time on our second phone. I heard Laura on the other end telling Elise to get me and then she was told by Laura that she had to hang up the phone. I was puzzled. Why was she calling? Where was Tim? And why was she so emphatic that her little sister had to hang up the phone? As soon as Laura heard my voice, she began to weep. "Mom, the baby didn't make it and Gina is in surgery!"

Grief and disbelief overpowered me. Laura spent most of the day with Tim and Gina. Laura, our daughter, was also pregnant and together Gina and Laura shared not only the anticipation of the birth of their second sons, but they also shared the same doctor, the same hospital and almost the same due date. So it was natural that Laura was with Gina that day, coaching her through early labor and chatting away once the epidural kicked in. Gina pushed for a long time but made little, if any, progress. The doctor felt he had waited long enough and in the interest of mother and baby, made plans to do a C-section. So, as Tim suited up for his stint in the delivery room, Gina was wheeled down the hall.

And then things changed in an instant. A loud beep went off on the monitor and all nurses went into high gear, frantically running down the hall in an attempt to get into delivery as soon as possible. Tim was not permitted inside. Gina's uterus had ruptured and she was hemorrhaging. The baby was delivered but never took a breath. A team of doctors worked desperately in an attempt to revive him, but Aaron never responded. In that brief second, his little soul went directly to the arms of his waiting Savior.

Gina had radical surgery. The doctors performed a complete hysterectomy, and within those hours, Tim and Gina lost not only a son but also the hope of having any more biological children. Gina's condition was grave and she was closely monitored for signs of more hemorrhaging. If that happened, little could be done to save her.

Bill and I and the children made the seventy-five mile trip in record time. As we waited for news about Gina, I asked one of the nurses where Aaron was and if I could see him. She led me into a quiet little room and left me alone. It was surreal. I held that lifeless little boy, in my arms, talking to God and talking to Aaron. Through my tears, I tried to memorize every inch of that beautiful baby boy. I didn't know if Gina would ever be able to see him, so I wanted to be able to describe his skin, his fingers, his nose, his hair. He was BEAUTIFUL! The nurse came in and together we bathed the baby and she asked if the parents had brought in any clothes or diapers. I went into the birthing room. There, in the corner, was the diaper bag Gina prepared for Aaron. Inside I found the little "going home" outfit and some newborn diapers. Before we dressed him, she took Aaron's footprints. Then we lovingly dressed him, combed his hair, and the nurse took photos, just like they do for all newborns. I didn't want to leave that room...there was something sacred about being in that place. And I knew that once I left that room, reality would set in, and I just didn't know if I was ready to face that yet.

Gina went to ICU and the doctor met with all of us and explained, as best he could, what had happened. And then the staff asked what we wanted to do with the body. The body? I sank. I had no idea how to respond, so they told me what options we had. Tim was with Gina, the other grandparents had left for the night, and I tried to figure out what to do. I called several funeral homes, consulted with Gina's mother, and made the arrangements.

I could write so much more, but this is what happened over the next few days:
* I asked if there was any way Gina could see Aaron before he was taken to the funeral home. The nurses brought her the baby and she, too, was able to hold her son.
* We held a funeral service in the hospital on Tuesday, October 7. It was our son David's 13th birthday.
* Gina was able to be in a wheelchair for the service, but could not attend the burial.
* Tim wrote a beautiful letter to his son, a letter full of hope and the joy they would all have when they were reunited in heaven.
* At the end of a long, sad day, Tim still insisted in stopping at a toy store so he could buy his little brother David a birthday present.

This story has many happy endings, but one of the best was that Laura was admitted to the same hospital, same floor, same doctor on October 4. She gave birth to Andrew on Sunday, October 5. We could feel all the nurses whisper about our family as we walked the halls. They seemed to say, "There's that family that lost a baby on Friday, and welcomed another on Sunday." Sunday! The first day of the week, the day that Jesus conquered death. Our family felt His resurrection power that weekend.

And I was able to see Andrew be born! I'm certain that was NOT Jeff and Laura's intent, but I think Jeff said something like, "After all she's been through, I don't think we would have been able to drag her out of that room!"

Laura and Gina share more than the memories of that weekend so long ago. They also share birthdays very close together in November. So that November in 1997, I bought both of them the same necklace. It was a gold oval opal pendant, surrounded by rubies. The opal is the birthstone of October, a small reminder of our special October boys. Although the citrine is the actual birthstone, rubies can also be used as the birthstone for November, the birth month of both mothers.

Some months later I wrote this poem to Aaron:

In the silence of this room, it is you that I hold.
Your small fingers I trace, trying to memorize each line,
for when I am old
I want to be able to close my eyes and still see you, my sweet child.

Tears gently fall from my face as I slowly, ever so slowly, realize
That this is the first and last time I will ever feel
Your cheek next to mine.

Breathe! Please breathe! Oh, to hear a gasp, a cry, a sound!
But you remain still, quiet, motionless in my arms.
And so I continue to rock, and talk, and sing to you,
Trying to fit a lifetime of memories into mere minutes.

As I inhale my limited time with you, I question where you are.
Where has that force of life gone that was here only moments ago?
Aaron, why can't you kick? Why won't you cry?
Why can't you open your eyes...for just a second?

And then MY eyes are opened.
You ARE alive, aren't you!
What I am caressing is not really you.
Your soul - the part of you that makes you YOU
Is alive!

My sweet child, your eyes see so much better than mine.
And I long to catch just a glimpse, just a glance of what your eyes can see!

Love,
Grandma