Tuesday, December 27, 2016

Mom

     Two weeks ago today, I flew to Chicago and spent a wonderful few days with our daughter and her husband.  One of the things I promised Elise that week is that I would write again. I was reminded of that promise this morning when I looked at my Face Book page. Face Book will often show what was happening in one's life in previous years. They did that to me today. This is a picture they put on my page from two years ago - December 27, 2014. It was the first entry I saw this morning, and it brought back a flood of memories of a day that I will never forget.  This is a picture of my Mother with her youngest great grandson, Andrew. It was taken at her 95th birthday party and Andrew is showing her some pictures that he took on my phone! This was the last day any of us would ever interact with her again. Later that evening, after she went to bed, she had a stroke and never regained consciousness.

     Mom's birthday was on Christmas, so we held a small party for her two days later. It was a happy afternoon where she was surrounded by her family and friends - a low-key "Open House" where people could stop by and visit and share a cup of coffee and a piece of cake with ice cream. Mom was content to sit and people would come and sit by her for a while and then move on. I remember going in to that day and she was a bit apprehensive. She was one that liked to be in control, and since her family made most of the plans, I don't think this felt like she had a handle on what was going on! But at the end of the day, when she was back in her apartment, she said over and over, "That was really nice, wasn't it!" She was so happy and content. She sat in her chair and carefully re-read all of her cards and cherished the sentiments. She went about her nightly rituals...setting out her water and pill that she would take at 5 am, helped my daughter pack up dishes she had given her, made sure Tommy had something for his upset stomach, and told me to come to bed soon before I fell asleep on the couch. And then she walked away with her walker towards her bedroom, giving Tommy, Elise, and I a final wave goodnight.

     Much later, we were able to find such joy in those final moments of her 95 year old life - spending her last hours with her family and friends - knowing she was loved and appreciated - and drifting off to sleep with a heart that was content.

                                                          
 Eleanor Kloet Rodenhouse
December 25, 1919 - January 1, 2015
The LORD is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? The LORD is the stronghold of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?
 

Sunday, July 19, 2015

Fun With a Friend

I have some qualms about sharing this story.  Why?  I fear I may come across as either condescending or gloating.  Please trust my heart and know that neither is the case.  I just want to share a window into my world, and share what happened when I said "Yes" to God.

We have a woman in our church that is a real character!  I'll just call her "J".  She lives by herself now.  Life for her has not been easy.  Since moving to Houston, she lost her 48 year old son that lived with her.  He was autistic and never spoke, but while he was alive she always took him to church.  She's a short little woman with weathered skin, decaying teeth and uncombed hair. Her clothes have a "Goodwill" look to them, and she is notorious for losing things.

I started my journey with J about three years ago.  She wanted a ride to the Tuesday night Bible study, and I obliged.  As we rode to the study, she would babble on and on about everything under the sun. Sometimes it made sense and sometimes it didn't.  I marveled at the way her non-stop talking would come to a stand-still for the Bible study, but on the way home, her spirit was child-like and joyful, so thankful for the food and fellowship she enjoyed.

Those rides soon grew from rides to Bible study to rides to church -  to sitting with me in church - to daily phone calls. J was lonely.  And quite honestly, so was I. Sometimes she was a precious little lady. Sometimes she was a huge test of my patience.  I can't tell you the times I would pick her up, only to find she was not at home.

She is a very social person, but does have a car.  She is not one to stay in her apartment.  She is constantly walking along one of our city's busiest streets.  People know her and give her money. Restaurant owners give her free meals.  The local grocery store also keeps her well-supplied. She loves to try the food samples they offer.

She does all this roaming in some dangerous places. She has a naïve nature and is often used by those looking for someone weaker to use and abuse. She tries to share Jesus with everyone she meets, but meets many wolves in sheep's clothing.

My little friend has allowed me to see a whole other side to life. I've waited with her at the food bank. I was the silent observer, watching her "work the room". She struck up a conversation with just about everyone.

She been to our home when she had back spasms. I rubbed her back with Tiger Balm. I drove her to the drugstore when she had a toothache and introduced her to marvels of clove oil until she could get into a dentist. She calls me her doctor and thinks I know everything about everything!

Last week someone stole her little dog.  With shaky voice, she said, "Why would someone do this?  He was my companion.  He slept with me and kept me calm during the night.."  When she called me this week, I asked her what she was doing that day and if she would like to go out for breakfast. She eagerly said "Yes!"  and this time, when I drove up to the apartment, she was waiting outside for me!

I suggested different places to go, but none of them suited her...she wanted to go to Cracker Barrel.  I was tickled when she asked for catfish for breakfast, and was so thankful (and impressed) that our server took it all in stride.  During breakfast, I asked her if she would like to get her hair cut.  Her face lit up like it a child on Christmas morning.  The woman that took care of her at the salon was most gracious and gave her the cutest hair style.  J usually cuts (chops) her own hair. Never washes it. Never combs it. She looked like a new woman and it was obvious to me she felt like a new woman. The lady in the salon even went the extra mile and got rid of J's chin hairs, which are long and plentiful.

A haircut this stunning needed something a little extra - something like a new dress.  J and I walked to Stein Mart.  She literally "oohed" and "ahhhhed" at all the clothes. She was drawn like a magnet to anything bright and full of color.  Once she found a few dresses, I asked her if she wanted to go into the fitting room alone or if sh needed my help. She asked for help. She whirled and twirled and danced in each dress. I told her to look at herself in the 3-way mirror...that way she could get also get a better look at her new haircut. She beamed! Her whole demeanor changed!  She said, "I look like a movie star!"  We paid for her clothes and then returned to her apartment.  She must have thanked me fifty times for the fun day.  She asked several times, "How did you know?  How did you know that this was my heart's desire?"  I could only say that God placed it on my heart.  And I fully believe that He did.

As I drove home, I reflected on the waitress and hair stylist. They treated J with such patience. More importantly, they treated her with respect. They gave dignity to a little woman who looks and acts "a little outside the box."

I have been truly blessed. Thank you, God, for introducing J into my life.



Saturday, April 4, 2015

Good Friday, Fleas, and Angels Unawares

"Lord, forgive us for the times we have read about Gethsemane with dry eyes." F.S. Leahy

Today is Good Friday. Bill took David and I out for breakfast. Our table conversation was invigorating! We discussed the events that preceded the crucifixion. Each time I review the last days of Jesus, His sacrifice seems even more intense, more tragic...and I am in awe of the One Who did this for me.

In yesterday's post, we talked about the angel that God sent to strengthen Jesus as He agonized over the events that would soon unfold. Has God ever sent you an angel? I don't think about angels much.
I do, however, believe that if God allowed our eyes to really see all that is actually going on around us, we would be amazed at how active angels are in our everyday activities. The verse in Hebrews 13 that mentions meeting "angels unawares" has long fascinated me. I really think it would be phenomenal if we could really find out if the people we meet from time to time are indeed angels!

My angel story took place in a shoe store. The year was 1984. I had just given birth to David, my first baby. My parents and sisters drove down to welcome our new family member. During this time, my mother was able to convince me that I should sell our beloved cocker spaniel. Now, you need to realize I was still rather new living in the South. I was completely naive when it came to a lot of things that pertained to being a wife and a mother and a resident of Mississippi. One of the things I had no idea about was fleas. Our dog had fleas! I had no idea!! I have been the owner of many dogs over my lifetime, and NEVER had I seen a flea. Well, when we sold the dog, guess how we found out that our furry friend had been hiding a secret? You guessed it...those fleas were all over us. All over my sisters. All over my parents. It was like reliving one of those Old Testament plagues!!

Long story short, after our guests returned to Michigan, I called an exterminator. He advised me to leave our home for a few hours so baby David wouldn't be exposed to the chemicals. No problem, I thought. David and I could easily spend a few hours at the mall. This would be my very first time leaving the house with David by myself. I struggled getting David into his car seat. I struggled even more trying to collapse the stroller and get it into the back of the station wagon! Remember station wagons?

We were about a mile down the road when David began to cry. Not a "cry" actually...it was more like a shrill, ear-piercing alarm that would. not. stop.  I pulled over to the side of the road and had all I could do to not join in on the crying. This was NOT the easy-peasy trip I had envisioned. We drove on to the mall. I parked the car and struggled with the stupid stroller again. I finally got it all set up, engaged the breaks, and unbuckled our little boy from his car seat. I was ready to put him in the stroller, but the stroller was gone! Well, not really gone...it was rolling on its own through the parking lot! Now what? Do I leave my baby to run after the stroller? . I had a quick vision of me appearing in the local news. "Baby kidnapped as mother is caught running through parking lot." I tightly held on to Davd as we made our way to the renegade stroller. I wrestled that thing back, got David situated, and we entered the mall. As soon as we started to shop, guess who started crying again. I pushed that stupid stroller over to the fitting rooms, locked myself in a room, and fed David. As he finished his bottle, he treated me to my first experience with a mess that his little diaper could not contain. When I say it went everywhere, I REALLY mean it went everywhere. I ran out of baby wipes. I had call out for the sales lady, explain what happened, and ask her to bring me a few newborn outfits. I don't remember reading about this stuff in any of my "preparing for baby" books. I stayed with him in that fitting room for what seemed to be hours. It wasn't. We were only 20 minutes into our stay-at-the-mall day. Things went downhill from there. The mall was not that big. It felt like we covered every inch of it and that the sales ladies were talking about us. "Oh look, Agnes. Here comes that lady AGAIN with her smelly stroller!"

Finally, I was overcome. The tears started and I couldn't stop. I pushed that stroller into Gryder's shoe store and sat. A woman came over. She smiled at me - mess that I was - and said the sweetest words. "What a beautiful baby!" I cried even more. The ugly cry. The cry that needed Kleenex, but I didn't have any. She asked how old David was. I tried my best to act normal, but I was a wreck. "When you had your first child, was it this hard?" I sobbed. She spoke in such a calm voice and encouraged me.
She patiently talked with me for quite a while. She asked about Bill, and how we met, and why we were in Mississippi, etc. She shared scripture with me and lovingly reminded that every moment I should "cast my cares on Jesus". I bent over to get something out of the diaper bag, and she was gone.   I looked all around for her. I even asked the salesman if he had seen her. She had just disappeared.

She was gone, but what remained were her words. They strengthened me. And not only on that day. When times get rough, I almost always hear her voice reminding me to "Cast my cares on Jesus". Was she an angel? I have no idea. I like to think she was. Regardless of who or what she was, I have no doubt that God sent her to me when I felt so overwhelmed, just like He sent an angel to Jesus during His darkest time. What a loving heavenly Father! And that is my angel story.


Friday, April 3, 2015

Enischuo

I have been using some devotions written by Rick Renner as I walked my way through this Passion Week.If you are on FaceBook, you might want to look at or like his page. He helps me a lot with my Greek. Learning the meanings of Greek nouns and verbs used in the New Testament often adds an added layer of depth to familiar verses.

The Greek word That Rick taught me today is "enishuo". It is a verb used in Luke 22:43. The verb means "to make strong". As Jesus agonized over His imminent crucifixion, he fervently wrestled with His self-will. He knew the horrible events that would soon unfold, and He struggled. He asked His Father to remove "this cup". Can't you almost hear Jesus plead, "Abba! Father! Daddy! Please, can't there be another way?" 

At that very moment, God sent His son an angel. We have no idea what the angel said to Jesus. All we know is that the angel was sent to "enischuo" - to strengthen. God sent His son an angel so that Jesus would neither feel alone nor be alone. This angel brought Jesus strength to endure what was probably the most difficult struggle He ever went through.

I encourage you to read through the events of Luke 23. Try to feel the human emotions Jesus felt.
I am amazed that He remains fully submitted to the will of His Father. I am ashamed that He had to endure this because of my sins. 

Have you ever come to a place in your life where you were all alone in the midst of an overwhelming trial? Did you wrestle in prayer before God? Did God make His presence known? Did He, perhaps, send you an angel?

Tomorrow I will share my "angel story".

Sunday, June 29, 2014

Happy Anniversary!



Happy Anniversary!
 
 





Saturday, June 21, 2014

Kintsugi

 

It has been a long time since I have blogged. So many people have encouraged me to begin writing again, so I am going to give it a try. 

We just returned from a wonderful vacation!  We were able to see places we have never visited before, and we were able to spend a bit of time with each of our children and grandchildren.  Since our family is scattered all over, this was no small journey.  We drove well over 3,200 miles in two weeks.  Bill did all of the driving, so I had lots of time to sit and think.

One of the things I thought about was my blog.  I have always wanted to start over - to have a completely fresh start with a new name and a specific theme.  As I mulled over a new name, I wanted "Jars Of Clay". Why? Because my initials spell JARS, and because the Bible verses found in 2 Corinithians 4: 7-9 have always held a special place in my heart.

    But we have this treasure in jars of clay, to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and   not to us.

  I so often feel like I'm broken - like I have made so many bad choices - like life has bruised and battered me so much that I couldn't possibly be useful, let alone valuable. This verse uplifts me and reminds me that while I am broken (aren't we all?), I have a treasure within.

On our trip, one of my devotions taught me about kintsugi.  If you have a chance, Google it because it is beautiful and if you feel broken, it will encourage you!  Basically, this art form repairs broken pottery by filling in the cracks with gold.  A once useless, discarded , good-for-nothing piece of pottery becomes beautifully restored.  And not only restored, but valuable!

This is what Christ has done for me. He has taken this damaged jar, so broken and wounded, and has filled in the gaps with His glory. 

And so the blog continues...without a new name (the one I wanted was already taken), without a specific theme (I just couldn't commit to writing about one thing)...just me and the blah blah blah things that I experience. Thanks for joing me in this journey. xo

Thursday, August 1, 2013

Never a Girl Scout


I was never a Girl Scout.  For some reason, that random thought ran through my mind this morning. Where I was from, I don't think that was even an option.  It makes me smile now, but as a little girl I was somehow led to believe that being a Girl Scout was close to taking a walk on the wild side of life!  Isn't that funny?  So I never had the uniform, or the badges, or the experience of selling Girl Scout cookies, (In retrospect, this was a good thing.  I could eat my weight in Thin Mints!!) 

What I WAS a member of was the J.O.Y club.  It stood for Jesus first, Others second, Yourself last.  We met once a month and learned different things like sewing and baking.  We had an overnight in the Spring and held a Mother/Daughter banquet every May.  I still remember when Susie Brunner and I got to be the special music for the banquet. We sang Sweet Hour of Prayer as a duet and I made my debut as an alto!  

Great childhood memories...funny how they come through our minds when we least expect them...but  this morning those memories of long ago brought a smile to my face and to my heart.  It helped me call to mind names that I had long forgotten...Mrs. Bosscher and her Bible studies, Mrs. Molewyk and her patience as she taught us how to sew an apron, and even Mrs Holtvluwer's fun laugh (and how upset she was when she found out what we girls were discussing on our overnight retreat!!) Women who gave of themselves to teach me what it means to love God.  I don't see those women anymore, but today I thanked God for my godly heritage, for the impact that they had on my young life, and for bringing such fun memories to mind.  No, I never was a Girl Scout, but I don't think my childhood lacked much because of that fact.  Except right now I am really craving some Thin Mints! 

Wednesday, July 17, 2013

Lego Adventure (and How I Ended Up With a Headache!)

Every morning, I work with three delightful children.  Their parents requested that I work with them individually on Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays.  On Mondays and Fridays, however, I am to work with them together on a project.  We have played at the park, gone swimming, baked cookies, and made bubbles.  We have also put together a few Lego architectural pieces.  We have built the White House and the Sydney Opera House.  Today we built the Brandenberg Gate.  The boys are great at building, and little sister and I find the pieces that the boys need.  Little sister gets bored and has been known to suddenly take her frustration out on the Legos, scattering them all over the floor.  In an effort to keep her occupied, I asked her lots and lots of questions.  Somehow, my questions led us to the Pledge of Allegiance.  I asked her if she had to say the pledge at school.  "Yes."  Then I asked if she could say the pledge.  "Well, I only know the end", she told me and proceeded to recite it.  "One nation, underneath God, with liber bee and justices for all. You may sit down."


Big brother took it upon himself to correct his sister. "No! 'You may sit down' is NOT part of the pledge!!!" And that's when the Legos ended up scattered all over the kitchen floor...again!

Tuesday, July 9, 2013

A Ray of Sunshine in the Medical World

This is one of those times when I question whether I should blog about this particular thing I am facing.  I am reluctant because I don't want people to think I share "TMI" (too much information). But I see it as such a joyful story; a story that shows the amazing ways God gives His children EXACTLY what we need at just the right time.

Sine October, my doctor has been following a cyst that I have. Rather than do a biopsy, I opted to wait six months, retest, and re-evaluate what should be done. Two weeks ago, I had another test. The doctor said, "I have good news and questionable news. The good news is that the cyst has not grown. It is, however, beginning to develop its own vascular system...it's becoming too independent!" Hmm...just like ME I thought to myself!  She said I needed a biopsy. This time I wasn't given a choice. I was told to get it done ASAP, just to be on the safe side.

What happened next is truly amazing.  I went to make my appointment and was told that my out-of-pocket cost would be over $3,300.00. I smiled and told the women that I would not be able to have this done anytime soon because of the cost (did I mention that I have horrible insurance?!) She cautiously looked around to be certain no one was listening. In a whisper she said, "I go to an excellent surgeon in this same building.  She does these procedures in her office for a lot less.  Ask your primary doctor if you could go to my doctor.  Her name is Dr. L. L."

Before I was able to call my doctor, she called me. "Joyce, I want to go over your test results. I want you to see a specialist. Her name is Dr. L. L. and you have an appointment with her tomorrow."

So, I went to visit Dr. L. L. She came in the room, and before she even introduced herself, she gave me a huge hug!  She reviewed the previous test results with me and then did a few more tests.  "Yes, we need to biopsy this." then she took both of my hands in hers and asked if it was okay for her to pray for me.  It was such a loving, tender prayer.  She then asked if I had any concerns. I shared with her my concern about the cost because my insurance coverage for these procedures was almost nil. She said, "Joyce, I'm going to walk to the business office with you.  They will look up your coverage, and whatever amount you need to pay, we will discount by 25 percent. I will do the procedure in my office rather than at the out-patient surgical center. We will also set up a payment plan."

Amazing! I walked back to my car and I was in awe of what just happened. I felt so loved and I knew I was being cared for by my Shepherd.  True to the words in Psalm 23, The LORD is my shepherd, I shall not want (I will lack nothing!).  Tomorrow I go back to Dr. L. L.  I have complete peace. I really do! I know the doctor will take good care of me. I know God will, too!  

Monday, July 8, 2013

Speak Up!


My first memory of the words "speak up!" occurred when  I was a shy, chubby six year old with bangs that were way, way, way too short! I was in first grade. We sat at tables, not desks. I was a proud member of the snowflake table. (It must have been winter.)  Mrs. B was our teacher. She was quietly walking around the classroom, watching us as we filled out our math worksheets. Suddenly, abruptly, she stopped at our table.  She stood silently behind my chair. The silence was broken when she loudly asked, "Joyce! Do I need to put mittens on your hands?" I was silent, but mostly I was mortified! She just accused me of the most grievous of all first-grade sins - counting on my fingers!!! She waited for what seemed hours for me to answer her question. I couldn't. Tears trickled down my cheeks. All I could manage was a small, barely audible "no!" She could not hear me. "Speak up!" I couldn't speak up. So, I just sat sniffing back the tears.

Fast forward many, many years.  I am no longer at the snowflake table, but I am at a table, and I am surrounded by seven women whom I have never met.  We are the members of small group #3, and we are nervously awaiting for our name to be called.  Our leader asks if anyone wants to go first. No hands go up. "Okay ladies, I will just go in numerical order as your names appear on my list. Joyce, you're first." Gulp! Inside my head I was screaming a run-on sentence that I was sure everyone in the room could hear. "No!!!! I'm not ready to stand here and give a three minute speech and have all of you evaluate me because I'm not prepared and I'm wearing the wrong outfit because I have to remember to hold in my stomach with this top and I know I'll forget to hold it in while I'm speaking to all of you people that don't know me and suddenly it will be so obvious to all of you that I've been cheating on Weight Watchers!"

I gave my speech. The evaluations came. They were gracious and encouraging and beautiful. That was my first encounter with "Speak Up". And for the next three days I was filled with creative ways to use my God-given talents and desire to speak and write for Him.  I learned so much! And equally important, I met women who are now friends. This conference blessed me with hope and also with healing.

No longer do I need to shudder when I hear the words, "Speak up!" God has replaced my horrible memory of Mrs. B. Today, I hear the words "Speak Up" and I remember three lovely days filled with the wisdom of Carol Kent, the music of Frances Drost, and divine encounters with men and women who blessed me with their encouragement and inspiration. To God be the glory, great things He has done!


Sunday, July 7, 2013

It Is Well With My Soul (Sort Of)

It was well with my soul, until our computer died.  Just when I am trying to resurrect this blog! Sorry people. No cute pictures to look at...just words to read.  Yesterday we had a memorial service for a special man that attended our church.  His name was James.  James always put a smile on my face.  He always had encouraging words for everyone.  He always told me that I was his angel!  He always wanted to see a smile.  He was always full of praise.  James was not a healthy man.  Some Sundays he was in a wheelchair.  Some Sundays he was able to walk with a cane.  One day he had trouble breathing, went to the hospital, and they could not stabilize him. He was only 55 years old.  James is now in heaven, whole and healthy, but man, I sure do miss him!

As I drove to his service, I saw such a disturbing scene.  In Houston, it seems like we have an unusually large group of panhandlers.  There is always someone at an intersection asking for money.  They wait at the light, and once the light is red and cars are stopped, they walk up to each car and ask for money.  Yesterday, as I was driving down a very busy street on my way to the memorial service, I noticed a panhandler laying on his back in the median of the busy road as cars whizzed by him. It was a haunting sight. It was hard to tell if he was dead or alive. Two men had stopped and were standing over him.  One man had his phone and was probably calling for help. When I got home, I looked on the computer to see if it was in the news, but I couldn't find anything. God had something he wanted to teach me...

So this morning, as I sat in church, I couldn't help but think of James.  It was hard to look at the pew where he always sat and know that his seat would always be empty. I also thought of that man that was laying in the middle of the road. The sermon was from Romans 5:6. This verse says that while we were still weak, Jesus died for us.  The Bible uses the word weak to describe us. The vision of that panhandler came to mind as I read the word weak. That man yesterday was completely out of it. He couldn't do a thing to help himself.  That is how I looked to God. Completely helpless, unable to get myself up off that busy street. If the ambulance came, that man could not do anything to help himself recover.  And Jesus came, saw my helpless position, and came to save me.  Knowing what Christ has done for me, I am able to loudly sing out, "It Is Well With My Soul!!!!" Even if my computer is broken. 

Friday, July 5, 2013

Pencils

I am trying to blog again.  Right now, however, I feel like that proverbial fish that is out of the water.  I can't remember how to do certain things...I want to add a picture, and I have no idea how to do it!  Bear with me, folks, as I try to regain my "blogging groove"!


 



Yay! Success!  This isn't exactly like "riding a bike", but it's starting to come back to me a little bit!
I am toying with the idea of starting a brand new blog, with a brand new name.  Do any of you have a catchy name?  I'm also trying to pinpoint the focus of my blog.  In the past, I have just chosen random topics.  Some blogs are very specific; they have one focal point and they don't deviate. My blog has always been all over the map...I wrote on things I observed or things I had been dealing with or thinking about and because of that, this blog has always covered a multitude of random topics. I think that is the path this blog will continue to take.  Meanwhile, I will share with you a thought from Mother Teresa. Her words seem to capture the intent of my heart and my reason for sharing my thoughts with the world.

     "I am a little pencil in the hand of a writing God, who is sending a love letter to the world."


Wednesday, September 5, 2012

God Provides

I want to share with you the wonderful way God provided for me today.  As you know, our daughter is getting married.  What you don't know is that my husband has been without work since July 13,  I have been sick and have incurred a huge debt owed to various medical providers from Houston to Grand Rapids (more about THAT adventure later!)  And the creme-de-la-creme occurred on Sunday when the water pump on our car died and we found ourselves suddenly faced with a towing bill, a taxi bill, AND a repair bill.

I'm sharing these woes, not so that you will in any way thing I'm down or depressed or feeling sorry for myself.  Rather, I am sharing them just so you can get a little insight on how God walks His children through the difficulties of life. 

The first thing you need to know about me is that I am no 'saint'!  I don't go around thinking, "God will provide, so I don't have to do a thing."  Neither do I live up to the challenge in Philippians 4 where Paul encourages the believer to not worry - he says we are to pray.  Quite honestly, I DO worry.  God knows that I worry; this is no great shocking secret that I'm sharing. But somewhere along the line, I can see that I am beginning worry less and pray more. And the only reason that this change is taking place is because over and over again, God has provided for our family "out of the blue".  He has shown up in so many unbelievably creative ways.  Like the time Bill was going through old mail and found a check!  Or the time we received a check from our insurance company for some unknown reason. 

That being said, I will now tell you my worries.  I've been worried about the wedding.  I worry about having enough so that we can fly to Chicago for the wedding.  I worry about finding a dress for the wedding.  I am VERY gifted in the area of shopping. (Some even say I am too gifted! Ha!)  But for whatever reason, I have not been able to find a suitable dress for this Mother-of-the Bride. And the list goes on (and on!), but you get the idea, right?

So today, after shelling out almost $600.00 for a new water pump, I dashed into a store called David's Bridal.  I only had 20 minutes to look, but this mom-on-a-mission needs a dress and if I see it, I can try it on and pay in under 15, so I took on the challenge.  Twenty minutes later, I stepped out into the hot, humid Houston air with sweat poring down my back and sparkly, glittery stuff all over my neck and face and arms.  In other words, I emerged from the bridal store without a dress.

Of I went to meet a new student.  She is a 14 year old girl from China that has been here for only 20 days.  Imagine being in a huge mega-school and not being able to speak the language!  Anyway, at the end of my introduction, the parents not only hired me, but offered to pay in advance!  IN ADVANCE!  Do you know this means people???  It means that in one fell swoop, God provided the funds I needed to buy my ticket!  Then, I went to my next student.  She is from Africa and in the third grade.  After the lesson, I told her mother that I would miss 2 lessons in October because of our daughter's wedding.  She asked if I had a dress.  I said, "No, I'm still looking.  In fact, see all of this glittery stuff on my arms?  That's from me trying on fancy dresses!"  Without hesitation she said in her beautifully lyrical African accent, "Miss Joyce, I will make you a dress!"  Do you know what this means?  This means that in a few weeks, God willing, I will be sitting at our daughter's wedding.  And I will be there because of a family from China that has only been in Houston fro 20 days.  And I will be ravishing in my dress lovingly made by a women from Ghana.  God is so faithful.  I can't wait to share with you how He provides the money for Bill's ticket...and when He does, I'll share it with all of you!

His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me!    

Monday, September 3, 2012

I Think I Forgot How

Guess who's back!  I think I forgot how to do this...

It's hard to believe that it has been almost a full year since my last entry.  Why was I gone so long?  I really don't have a good answer for that one.  While I was gone, however, I did hear from many of my faithful readers.  They spoke such encouraging words - they touched my heart deeply.  That being said, I'm going to give this another try, ok?  Ready to plug your nose, join hands, and jump into the deep end with me once again?  Great!  Here we go...

So, my last entry was written about my experience with "diversity" at Trinity Christian College.  It's so hard for me to realize that 42 years have passed since this scared, timid girl from Grand Rapids found her way to Palos Heights, Illinois.  And the saga continues.  This year I am honored to be the president of the Alumni Board.  Serving on the board has been such a blessing.  This past December, our daughter graduated from Trinity, and I was asked to speak! What a thrill...to share the stage with Elise, to speak to the graduates about my journey since my graduation, and then getting to shake each of graduates hands as they walked across the stage!  It just doesn't get much better!

In a few weeks, I will return to Trinity to help with Homecoming events and to attend a board meeting.  But this time, I will stay on at the college for two weeks to help my daughter with the final plans for her wedding.  She is getting married on October 19.  This mama is looking forward to having her whole family together again. 

I'm going to see if I can load some pictures on here and share with you all some of the highlights of this past year.  Thanks for reading and for joining me on this journey!

Wednesday, September 7, 2011

Alumni Board

This is a picture of the Alumni Board for Trinity Christian College. I'm the one on the left in pink. I'm also the OLDEST member! One month from today I will travel back to Chicago for a board meeting. The same weekend, Trinity will be holding a dedication for the new gymnasium. When I attended TCC, the gym was brand new! I still remember attending the first basketball game that was played there. Back then, we thought our gym was on the cutting edge. Alas, it pales in comparison to the new one.






Over the summer I had a phone interview with someone that put the old gym to good use. He practically lived there! I never knew "B" very well during our shared time at TCC, but I sure do remember his agility on the b-ball court. I had heard that B was recently appointed to be the director of the Juvenile Department of Justice for the state of Illinois. What an accomplishment! I wanted to share his story with the Trinity family, so I wrote this brief article that will soon be published. I think the story of B's journey is such a beautiful testimony to the providence of God. Hope you enjoy it.



Mr. Arthur D. Bishop






A Disheveled Old Man and God’s Divine Plan

When Trinity Christian College celebrated its 50th anniversary, Dr. Daniel Diephouse wrote a book entitled, At the Heart of Community. This book eloquently depicts the unfolding of the decades as seen through the eyes of the students and faculty. In the chapter on diversity, Dr. Diephouse writes, “The measure of a community is reflected in the way in which it respects those who don’t look like the group, who don’t live the way it lives, who because of personal and ethnic reasons see the world in different ways.”




I attended Trinity during the early 1970’s. At that time, there were those that dared to enter our fairly sheltered little community and they didn’t, as Dr. Diephouse wrote, “look like the group”. A friend of mine laughingly recalls her Trinity experience. “I am an Episcopalian. In the 70’s at Trinity, THAT was diversity!” I recently had the joy of interviewing one of those who dared…who dared to enter a predominately white campus and who dared to show us what diversity was all about.




I began the interview with this simple question: Arthur Bishop, how in the world did you end up at Trinity Christian College? This was his answer…




“If you asked me back in 1971 how I ended up at Trinity, my answer would have been completely different from the answer I am able to give you today.”




In 1971, Arthur Bishop was an athletic standout; a star player on the Von Steuben High School basketball team. Despite his popularity on the court, however, few of his family members were ever in the stands to cheer him on. “My biological mother died when I was four. I never knew my dad. My aunt raised my siblings and me.” And so, in 1971, when it was time to make a decision about college, it was made without the help of family support.




Unbeknownst to Bishop, there was someone that was regularly attending his games – someone that Bishop had never met – and this silent observer was keenly interested in the future of this outstanding, young athlete. His name was Ed Erickson. Ed’s son, Terry, was the athletic director at Trinity. Ed had quite a well-developed youth ministry in Arthur’s neighborhood, and he tried his best to invest his time into the lives of the young men he mentored.




“He was an old, disheveled white guy. One day he asked me if he could take me over to Trinity. Back in the day, I seldom traveled much beyond the neighborhood. We only traveled for about 45 minutes in that rickety, old car of his, but it seemed like Ed was taking me to a whole ‘nother country!




I remember being so impressed with the state-of-the-art gym. I also remember thinking that everything looked so green and sprawled out and open! And so, with very little concern as to the details of my decision, I signed up for Trinity. Back then I would have told you I ended up at Trinity because of basketball. Today I can tell you that I attended Trinity Christian College as a result of God’s divine plan.”




Arthur always had an inner calling to help others. It was this desire that helped him make the decision to major in sociology. And while he excelled on the court – TCC defeated both Calvin and Hope when he was playing! – off of the court it was a different story. He will never forget the day he and his friends stopped by a store in Palos Heights for some juice. The nervous store owner was certain the guys were up to no good and called the police. As the ball players innocently paid for their drinks and exited the store, they found themselves surrounded by Palos Heights police officers. Their guns were drawn! Coach Erikson was called to the scene, and the players returned to campus. What added insult to injury was when the store owner sent over a case of pop to the gym in an effort to pacify the situation. Art can laugh about the incident today, but it sent a clear message to him and to his friends about their place in a predominately white community.




When asked about his time spent at Trinity, Bishop smiles. “If it got too bad, we could always jump in a car and drive back home. And Coach was a person I could vent to; during the frustrating times when I wanted to give up, he was a person who seemed to understand where I was coming from. But overall, I enjoyed the comradeship of the team, the times we spent on the bus going to games…yeah, those are some good memories.”




Arthur graduated from Trinity in 1975 and earned his M.A. in Human Services Administration from Spertus College in Chicago. On January 1, 2011, Arthur was appointed by Illinois Governor Pat Quinn to be the Director of the Illinois Department of Juvenile Justice.




“This job I have today…well, some people told me that it’s kind of like trying to turn around a battleship in the middle of a bathtub! But my approach has always been to do the best I can in the job I have at the moment. I believe that God will direct my path if I’m being a good steward at what He has planned, and that’s how I approach everything I do. This title means nothing. It can be taken away in a heartbeat. What matters is that I do my work heartily, as unto the Lord! He is the One I want to glorify. It may not have looked like it at the time, but when I was at Trinity, I watched. I observed. I listened. The principles I learned at Trinity have served me well. So has the Christian foundation that I received from my aunt. God has blessed me with the gift of ministry and the gift of counseling. I have always wanted to help those, who for whatever reason, found themselves helpless. It has given me great joy to serve my Savior in the field of social work. Like I said earlier, God has a divine plan!”





Monday, August 22, 2011

Ants in My Pants...Literally!!!!!!!

Do NOT Even Begin To Feel Sorry For This Dead Ant!!!!



Hi Mom!!!


After not writing on this blog in, well,...forever!...I'm pretty sure that you are probably my only remaining reader. Sigh...


Summer has been so hectic! Even my "off" days have been busy! Take today, for example. Today I HAD to go to the doctor. I emphasize "HAD" because I didn't go because I was sick (for which I am very thankful!). I went because I can't get my prescriptions filled unless I make an appearance every so often. Because the appointment was at 9:20, and because David had to have a ride to work at 11, poor David had to tag along to my appointment. I finished up at 10:30 and we had just enough time to get him a breakfast from Chick-Fil-A. No sooner did we pull out of the parking lot, when David's lid flew off his drink and spilled all over the floor. The floor of the car that I am borrowing for the week!!!!! I shot into the Dollar Store to buy a roll of paper towels. Only one check out lane open and there I was, looking for all the world like I was the most exasperated woman on planet Earth!!!!!! The lady with the over-loaded cart took pity on me and let me go in front of her...how nice was that!!! I met David,unwrapped the roll and began blotting up the soggy mess. The good thing? He made it to work on time. The bad thing? It set in motion a horrible headache that I can't seem to shake.

I got home, only to find that the bathroom had been taken over by ANTS!!!! Not sweet, little unassuming ants, but flesh eating FIRE ANTS!!!! They bite, they hurt, and they leave behind these horrible infected bumps. Today I even turned black and blue from the bites on my thumb...that's a first! Anyway, I got out the spray. While it did exterminate the pesky creatures, it left a horrible smell behind that has saturated not only the bathroom, but the bedroom as well! I had some laundry sorted in piles on the floor and when I put the whites in the wash, I noticed ants were crawling over the clothes. I shook them out outside, all the while getting bit again! I washed the load, only to take them out of the wash and discover THE ANTS WERE STILL ALIVE!!!! And biting!!! Did I mention that I have a horrible headache?

I have always found writing to be rather therapeutic...and this post hasn't let me down; it has helped immensely to be able to rant and rave about those %*&# ants!

Monday, July 11, 2011

Let's Hear It For Chick-Fil-A!!!!!!!

Let's hear it for Chock-Fil-A!!! While all Southerners are familiar with this chain, it has just recently been making appearances north of the Mason-Dixon Line! Our daughter, Elise, grew up on sweet tea and chicken nuggets. When she was 15 she got her first job at a Chick-Fil-A, and she has worked for them ever since! She has worked for Chick-Fil-As in Mississippi, Alabama, and Texas. Imagine her delight when she saw that they were planning to open a Chick-Fil-A not far from Trinity Christian College in Chicago.

Elise just came back from spending a few days at the company headquarters in Atlanta. She had a grand time finding out more about this company that she has grown to love. They are training her to be the Director of Marketing at her store. She does the coolest things! She has to make deliveries to the White Sox. She was treated to box seats at the Chicago Fire (their soccer team). She also plans the activities for children's night. Tomorrow I think any children that go to Chick-Fil-A in their pajamas (for dinner)will get a free kid's meal! She said that even the cow (their mascot) will be in his p.j.s! For Father's Day she planned a Daddy/Daughter Night that was a huge success...complete with roses and limo rides!

Now a Chick-Fil-A has opened in downtown Chicago, and it is taking the Windy City by storm! Here is a recent newscaster's story about his love for this special restaurant...





Bob Sirott's One More Thing About My New Favorite Restaurant: MyFoxCHICAGO.com



Saturday, June 25, 2011

Wishing you A Shay Day!

A friend of mine sent this story to me a few weeks ago. I enjoyed learning about Shay, and I know you will also...

At a fundraising dinner for a school that serves children with learning disabilities, the father of one of the students delivered a speech that would never be forgotten by all who attended. After extolling the school and its dedicated staff, he offered a question:
‘When not interfered with by outside influences, everything nature does, is done with perfection. Yet my son, Shay, cannot learn things as other children do. He cannot understand things as other children do. Where is the natural order of things in my son?’

The audience was stilled by the query.

The father continued. ‘I believe that when a child like Shay, who was mentally and physically disabled comes into the world, an opportunity to realize true human nature presents itself, and it comes in the way other people treat that child.’

Then he told the following story:

Shay and I had walked past a park where some boys Shay knew were playing baseball. Shay asked, ‘Do you think they’ll let me play?’ I knew that most of the boys would not want someone like Shay on their team, but as a father I also understood that if my son were allowed to play, it would give him a much-needed sense of belonging and some confidence to be accepted by others in spite of his handicaps.

I approached one of the boys on the field and asked (not expecting much) if Shay could play. The boy looked around for guidance and said, ‘We’re losing by six runs and the game is in the eighth inning. I guess he can be on our team and we’ll try to put him in to bat in the ninth inning.’

Shay struggled over to the team’s bench and, with a broad smile, put on a team shirt. I watched with a small tear in my eye and warmth in my heart. The boys saw my joy at my son being accepted.

In the bottom of the eighth inning, Shay’s team scored a few runs but was still behind by three.

In the top of the ninth inning, Shay put on a glove and played in the right field. Even though no hits came his way, he was obviously ecstatic just to be in the game and on the field, grinning from ear to ear as I waved to him from the stands.
In the bottom of the ninth inning, Shay’s team scored again.

Now, with two outs and the bases loaded, the potential winning run was on base and Shay was scheduled to be next at bat.
At this juncture, do they let Shay bat and give away their chance to win the game? Surprisingly, Shay was given the bat. Everyone knew that a hit was all but impossible because Shay didn’t even know how to hold the bat properly, much less connect with the ball.

However, as Shay stepped up to the plate, the pitcher, recognizing that the other team was putting winning aside for this moment in Shay’s life, moved in a few steps to lob the ball in softly so Shay could at least make contact.

The first pitch came and Shay swung clumsily and missed. The pitcher again took a few steps forward to toss the ball softly towards Shay. As the pitch came in, Shay swung at the ball and hit a slow ground ball right back to the pitcher.

The game would now be over.

The pitcher picked up the soft grounder and could have easily thrown the ball to the first baseman. Shay would have been out and that would have been the end of the game. Instead, the pitcher threw the ball right over the first baseman’s head, out of reach of all team mates.

Everyone from the stands and both teams started yelling, ‘Shay, run to first! Run to first!’

Never in his life had Shay ever run that far, but he made it to first base. He scampered down the baseline, wide-eyed and startled. Everyone yelled, ‘Run to second, run to second!’ Catching his breath, Shay awkwardly ran towards second, gleaming and struggling to make it to the base.

B y the time Shay rounded towards second base, the right fielder had the ball . the smallest guy on their team who now had his first chance to be the hero for his team. He could have thrown the ball to the second-baseman for the tag, but he understood the pitcher’s intentions so he, too, intentionally threw the ball high and far over the third-baseman’s head.

Shay ran toward third base deliriously as the runners ahead of him circled the bases toward home. All were screaming, ‘Shay, Shay, Shay, all the Way Shay’. Shay reached third base because the opposing shortstop ran to help him by turning him in the direction of third base, and shouted, ‘Run to third!

Shay, run to third!’

As Shay rounded third, the boys from both teams, and the spectators, were on their feet screaming, ‘Shay, run home! Run home!’ Shay ran to home, stepped on the plate, and was cheered as the hero who hit the grand slam and won the game for his team.

‘That day’, said the father softly with tears now rolling down his face, ‘the boys from both teams helped bring a piece of true love and humanity into this world’.


Shay didn’t make it to another summer. He died that winter, having never forgotten being the hero and making me so happy, and coming home and seeing his Mother tearfully embrace her little hero of the day!

We all have thousands of opportunities every single day to help realize the ‘natural order of things. So many seemingly trivial interactions between two people present us with a choice. Do we pass along a little spark of love and humanity or do we pass up those opportunities and leave the world a little bit colder in the process?

A wise man once said every society is judged by how it treats it’s least fortunate amongst them.
-Posted in honor of my very own Shay-

Wednesday, June 22, 2011

A Fun Trip To The Salon



This picture by the Associated Press caught my eye recently. These are women from Saudi Arabia and they are looking at cars. They can own a car in their homeland, but they are not allowed to drive. Apparently, there are recent uprisings by the women, who feel that the clerics should take another look at the Koran. Since women in a few other Islamic countries are allowed to drive, they feel they should be allowed, too. This picture and the article picqued my curiosity because of the women I teach. One has obtained her license, bought a Lexus, and is driving all over Houston! The other one is in the process...she begins her driving instructions soon, and she can't wait.


I find their lifestyle intriguing. I'm learning that I don't like their coffee (it's more of an herbal drink - no coffee beans used). I just learned this the other day...Islamic men can not wear gold - only the women. The men wear silver. I knew that they prayed five times a day, but I didn't know that the times change a little bit everyday. The times are based on the position of the sun. One of the prayer times comes around 1:30, right in the middle of one of my classes. My student feels comfortable enough to pray while I am in the house with her. We simply stop the class, pray, and begin again. I've decided to pray at the same time. While she is praying to Allah and kneeling on the floor, I am sitting at the dining room table praying to God. They have a special clock in their home that calls them to prayer at the correct times. You would think that I would be used to the sound by now, but it always sort of startles me!


Another thing I'm learning is the importance of a woman's hair. It really is their crowning glory - so much so, that other men are not allowed to see it. This fact caused a little dilemma for me last week. My student wanted to go to the salon for a haicut and color. She hadn't been to a salon for three years, so this was a big deal! I had no idea how to find a salon where I could guarantee it would be a "man-free" environment. I did a "google" search, but came up empty handed. Then I called an Islamic bookstore and asked if they could help me. Cha-ching! They were able to point me in the right direction!


We went yesterday. What fun! We were escorted to a little room that had a door they could lock and blinds they could close. In the privacy of the room, my friend could "unwrap". After two hours, she looked like a new woman! She wanted her bangs to be cut like mine (I thought that was so cute!), but her husband would allow only a little cut off the ends. Her hair is waist-length and so very lovely! I wanted to take a picture, but she said, "No! Thank you!" I guess they have to be covered up in the pictures.


Once she was correctly wrapped up (which seemed like such a shame to me, because it looked so nice after it was blown dry and flat ironed!), we got back into the car and drove home. We had the baby, Abdullah, with us. When she got out of the car, she thanked me and then said, in very broken English, "Baby go home with you! Bye, Abdullah!" I'm glad we can have so much fun together, despite the fact that most of the time we don't understand each other!

Saturday, June 18, 2011

Father's Day Tribute

Tomorrow is Father's Day. It brings back many memories of my father. It's hard to believe that he has been in heaven for ten years. In honor of Father's Day, I would like to share just a few of the things that make me smile when I recall my dad and his life.

I tried to scan some pictures. I didn't do a very good job. Someone is going to have to teach me how to do this so that it looks nicer. Anyway, I'll share the pictures with you, along with a few of my memories.






These are pictures from the early 20's, when my dad was just just a little guy. The bottom one is his birth announcement. I have the envelope that it was mailed in, complete with a 2 cent stamp! I love the picture with his mother. My dad was her first son, and he was named "Albert", after his father. While growing up, he was called "Junior". I always thought he was "Albert Rodenhouse", but my father ALWAYS wrote his full name as "Albert M. Rodenhouse". I learned this the hard way when I made out my wedding invitations and left the all-important "M" out of his name. His response when I showed him my invitations? "They look nice, but you spelled my name wrong!"





I like these pictures because they remind me of how much he loved his family. When David was a baby, we traveled to Florida. That's a picture of my dad just being relaxed and being a good grandpa as he feeds David a bottle. The rest of the family spent the day at Disney, but he stayed home and took care of his grandson. I also love the fact that he is in his "jumpsuit". For some reason, my dad went through a long phase in his life when he wore jumpsuits! It was kind of a strange "phenomonon" that he went through because my dad was know for being quite a stylish dresser.The next picture was taken at our home in Biloxi. We lived about 14 hours from his place in Florida, but he always went out of his way to drive over to our home on the way to Florida and again on the way back to Michigan. In this picture he is celebrating with Laura on her 16th birthday. The bottom picture was taken at the Marco Island Country Club. It was Dad's 75th birthday and he treated us to a wonderful dinner at the club where he loved to golf.






I like these pictures because they remind me of dad's love for stories and people. An example of this would be the stories dad liked to tell about his uncle. My dad's uncle lived a fascinating life. Uncle Gerrit not only attended the famed Julliard School of Music, but he also managed to marry the governor's daughter from the Island of St. Maarten. In 1993, my dad and his brother visited the island and toured the family home. This is a picture of him with Emilio, one of the people that worked for Uncle Gerrit. Emilio was able to share many new stories with my dad. Seeing him with Emilio reminds me of my dad's love for people of all ethnicities and backgrounds. A great memory I have is of the times he spent with Mr. Waites at our cottage. I guess today most people would call Mr. Waites "African-American". I loved to see those two together. I often was with my dad at the cottage when he and Mr. Waites would work together in getting the cottage ready to "open up" for the summer. There were always so many leaves to rake and twigs to pick up and flowers to plant! In the middle of the day, they would take a break for lunch. Dad told me that Mr. Waites was pretty surprised the first time dad invited him inside to have lunch together. I also like this saying that he learned from Mr. Waites: It's not a matter of skin, but a matter of sin. It's not a matter of race, but a matter of grace. They loved to talk about the things of God with each other. I especially loved it when I got to have lunch with them and dad would ask Mr. Waites to say the blessing. That man could pray! But so could my dad. In fact, the family joke has always been my mom reminding my dad not to pray so long before a Sunday dinner...she didn't want the food to get cold!



My dad was a man of many interests. He loved collecting cars and coins and glassware. Whatever he collected, he went after the best! His cars often won the trophy for "Best of Show". He became so knowledgeable about glassware that he was asked to speak at conventions! I love the story about the day he saw an ad in the paper for a specific car that he always wanted to add to his collection. I think it belonged to the Kellogg family.(Or some really well-known, wealthy family.) Anyway, he drove many hours to see the car. When he arrived at the "mansion", the groundskeeper told dad that Mrs. Kellogg could not be disturbed because she was having devotions. My dad asked if he could see the car. He was escorted to a huge warehouse/garage that housed all the cars ever owned by the family! They were all on blocks and in pristine condition. Finally, my dad got to meet Mrs. Kellogg. My dad shared with her that he also began everyday with devotions. This was the beginning of quite a lengthy conversation. Finally my dad was able to bet around to asking about the car, only to have her say, Oh, the car is not for sale. I was only curious if it would generate any interest. If I do ever sell the car, however, I want it to go to a man of your caliber. Several years later he received a call that the car was his if he was still interested. Once again he drove the distance and thought for certain he would have another visit with Mrs. Kellogg. He was told that she was too emotionally upset about the car leaving, so he proceeded to get the car into the trailer. As he pulled away, he saw her looking out of the window. I didn't do the story justice. If my dad told it, you would have been mesmerized!


I learned many things from my dad. Because of him, I love to write. My dad wrote a lot. Especially Bible studies and sermons. He also wrote many, many letters to me over the years...especially when I was in college. I remember one of the very first letters he wrote to me in college was all about not "gulping at life". He advised me to savor the seconds and not to be in such a rush.




He loved a good story, a good joke, and a good quote. when I was in high school, he had this quote from David Livingston written in the front of his Bible: Lord, send me anywhere, only go with me. Lay any burden on me, only sustain me. Sever any ties but the ties that bind me to your service and to your heart.


From him I received my love for public speaking. My dad spoke a lot. He even used to preach! It always made me very proud to see my dad in front of an audience.

My dad instilled in me at a very early age my love for God and a desire to bring honor and glory to Him. That's really what my dad was all about. And while he loved his family and the things of this earth, it was evident to all that heaven was his home. He had a close relationship with his heavenly Father. I love the fact that the last word I ever heard my dad say was, "Amen". He was confined to a hospital bed for the last weeks of his life. The last few days of his life he spent in what looked like a "sleep state". His eyes were closed and he no longer spoke. Our pastor came to visit maybe a day or two before dad's death. He read the Bible and prayed. At the end of the prayer, dad raised his hands and said, "Amen!". We were all surprised to hear him say anything!


It brings me great comfort to know that my dad is with the Lord. I know he is enjoying heaven. I know he is enjoying the music of heaven and I know he is enjoying being in the presence of the One he lived for!


My dad left me a great legacy. I'm thankful that he was my dad. Thanks for letting me share just a few of my memories.