The Day That Wasn't Normal

It started like a normal day.

I wonder how many stories begin that way? Adventure stories. Love stories. 

Horror stories. 

This story.

I knew she was sick. She'd been sick for a long time. We'd been to the doctor, tried different medications. But I had been out of town all week for work, and my husband had been texting me. 

She isn't looking good. 

She needs to go to the doctor again. 

This might be the end. 

So when I got home, I knew I had to go. It was Saturday. He went with me.

The doctor said we had done everything we could. The doctor said it was clear that we loved her. The doctor said it was time to end her suffering. I put my hands on her as she drifted away. It was quiet, except for my sobbing. And she was gone. She wasn't even six years old.

We buried her in her basket with her name on the liner. We buried my sweet Cricket cat next to the roses a year ago on a Saturday. 

But that's not what made the day abnormal.

After I buried my cat, I went to the hospital - the people hospital. My mom was sick again. She had battled breast cancer for nine years, and it was back for the third time. She had gone to the emergency room via ambulance on Thursday, only a couple of days after the diagnosis, and now she was in the cardiac intensive care unit because of episodes of tachycardia. Even though we told them the mass in her chest was cancer and not pneumonia, the staff doctors believed it was pneumonia and would not let her eat or drink for fear of aspiration. We tried to keep her distracted with TV and conversation. 

For a while, we focused on the weather. There was a severe thunderstorm. The hospital alarms sounded. We had to draw the blinds. It was a microburst that caused severe damage, tearing part of the roof off of the high school in my small hometown. Mom was worried about a tree falling on the garage. We assured her everything was fine. We showed her pictures my cousin took of the damage. Still, she was fighting. Her prognosis was good. The ICU doctor said she could move to a regular unit in the next day or two. 

My husband called. Having lost his mother unexpectedly only two weeks before, he decided to go out of town for a few days. Everything would be back to normal soon. I kissed Mom good night, and told her I'd see her tomorrow.

The next day was Sunday, but it wasn't normal. It was Mother's Day. I called Dad, and he said she had gotten worse.  I contacted her cancer doctor and asked him to come to the hospital - he was not aware she'd been admitted. By the time I got there, she was frustrated but coherent. Dad was pacing the floor. I brought pictures from her recent trip across the country to the Grand Canyon, but I never got to show them to her. It all happened so quickly. Her breathing became labored. My sister came with her kids and flowers and presents for Mother's Day. Then the doctor came. He was puzzled by her heart condition. "You've thrown us a curve with this one," he told her, and they laughed. Then it got serious. Mom asked the doctor if this was it. She asked the doctor, was she dying. And the doctor said, "None of us can ever know the time, Judy." My other sister came and talked to the doctor in the hall. We didn't know what to do. Mom kept asking for Pepsi. I sneaked her a sip at a time from a medicine cup. 

She was restless, uncomfortable. Her breathing became ragged. She couldn't speak; everything was a whisper. Everything required so much effort. And suddenly, she was dying ... but how could that be?

Suddenly, they approved of Pepsi. The nurse said, "You give your mom anything she wants. The end is hard enough." I didn't understand. The end of what? They gave her medication for the pain. She gasped for breath. She became incoherent. And then, they pulled the curtains for privacy. And then I understood.

The three of us understood. Dad understood. There was nothing left to do. I called my husband. "Mom is dying," I sobbed into the phone. He was hours away; I felt so alone.

We three sisters held hands. We sang. First, religious songs and hymns. Then pop songs. Shania Twain. I don't know. Cher? We may have worked in "Row, Row, Row Your Boat". We were stunned. We were desperate. We told her it would be okay. We told her to go, that we would be okay. She wouldn't; she fought. She tried to get out of bed. She removed her oxygen mask. The nurse asked if we understood what would happen without oxygen. She turned off the alarms. 

Dad huddled on the couch or paced the tiny room, already grieving. I embraced him, "Well, we didn't expect this today." He could only shake his head, tears streaming. 

I prayed. I prayed for peace, our peace, her peace. I closed my eyes, and I prayed for something I could tell her, something I could do. And then I saw, like a dream in my mind, I saw Isaiah. My son Isaiah died at the age of two weeks in 1998, and when I let him go, I saw him meet Jesus. I saw him in his new body, just like I saw him now. And he was waiting for his Nana.

I held her. I held her head in my lap, and I told her she could go. I told her Isaiah was waiting. I told her he was the tall, strong, blond boy waiting at the gates of Heaven. He would take her to Grandma. He would take her to Jesus. And I told her to let go.

And, finally, she did.

It was quiet. The monitors showed her heart rate slowly decreasing. 

Then it stopped.

The Saturday that started as a normal day blurred into a Sunday, a Mother's Day, that wasn't. 

And now nothing's normal. Even a year later. 

Nothing.

This Day

Can you imagine what this day was like?

His capture was a great deceit. His trial, a travesty. His death, a horrifying finale. 

Now, it is over. Finished, if you will. Now what? 

This day. Before He arose. Before the tomb was empty. What was it like?

Quiet, I imagine. The followers grieving and frightened. Conjuring images of their own deaths, perhaps. Confused. Unsure what was next. Alone. Without their Teacher. 

Angry. Perhaps they argued. Some may have been planning to flee. Certainly they had differing opinions on what to do next. 

Think of what that felt like. No Jesus. No promise of redemption. No light. No Holy Spirit. Can you imagine?  Wait. Can you remember?

Yes, this is where you were. Not subject to the laws of the Torah, but with only society's rules to follow. Unsure of your place in the world. No promise of love or light, now or after death. 

This is where a lot of people still are, today. Do you empathize? Do you go back to that place and remember how it felt? Before you knew. Before He showed Himself. 

Or do you throw Bible verses around? Condemn "sinners" to Hell? Argue about where they've been and the new "rules" they need to follow?

What did the followers need?

Compassion. Love. Jesus. 

That's what they needed. And they had to wait for it. Dealing with loss, over those days. Alone. They didn't need laws and rules. Religion. They needed Jesus. 

Imagine. 

You know what happened. You know how it ends. You have the benefit of thousands of years of history. And your own life, before and after. What are you doing? How are you helping the lost, the grieving, the frightened, the angry?

Are you giving someone Jesus?

We Got Skunked

No, I do not have a third grader that just got shut out in softball, soccer, or some other sport. My kids are grown up and they didn't play many sports anyway. Plus, I could fix that with ice cream. The kind of skunked I am involves two nosy dogs and something that LOOKED like a black and white kitty but WASN'T a black and white kitty.

Also, the border collie - er, long-haired border collie - made it in the house and onto MY bed before I could catch him. He also hit the dog beds, cat beds, couches, and assorted carpets before I coaxed him back out the front door to the hose. Dogs who have been skunked run around like psychos and rub their fur on anything not moving. The cats and the little dog took cover immediately. Luckily Mike answered my call on his way home and we tackled the problem in tandem.

My Facebook friends stopped laughing long enough to tell me to "run," "sell the house," and "google it." Thanks people, for being there in an emergency. I remember someone saying boiling vinegar was a good way to rid the house of smells. It helps. The Humane Society says if you don't have dishwashing liquid and hydrogen peroxide, dilute vinegar and add some baking soda to bathe the dog. The chemist in me paused before I dumped the box into the bowl Mike was holding. Yeah. Vinegar (acid) plus baking soda (base) equals chemical reaction. "We'll clean the floor later," he said.

Both dogs got a shampoo bath, then a vinegar/baking soda bath, then into the garden tub for one more shampoo bath. I'll officially never use that thing again, btw. I finally made it to the shower. My bathroom smells like vinegar, apple (shampoo), coconut (body wash), sugar (scentsy), and spring (Febreze fabric spray and room spray). And skunk. Lots of skunk.

And that is why I'm finishing last night's Moscato, straight from the bottle.

And why is this suddenly blog-worthy when I haven't posted in months and months? I'll tell you. One, it is funny -- or it will be in a few days. And two, because I was wallowing in self-pity today. I have a head cold. I've been traveling too much. I miss my mom. In fact, yesterday I even gave an ultimatum. If you are really watching over us, Mom, why haven't I heard from you? Why didn't you help us find Lucy? Can't you send me a sign?!?!

And then came the little black and white not-a-kitty. My sinuses are clear. I was home to live through the experience (I'm pretty sure Mike would have moved away by the time I got back if I had been on the road). And, what do I have to whine about in the grand scheme of things? Why do I think my mom would be in Heaven, helping me with menial tasks, when she's got rejoicing to do? If she's going to help someone, I'd be at the bottom of the list. She gave her girls the skills to live, and I haven't been.

So, yes, I do believe Mom is watching over me, just like I believe Isaiah met her at the Gates (mostly to give St. Peter the heads up). But I also know I should be doing, not asking. Seeking, not expecting. Living, not sulking.

So, maybe this gave you a laugh. Or maybe it gave you a message.
Get floodlights for your backyard.
Straighten up and fly right.

And maybe some ice cream would make this night a little better.

Senior Center Auction

After a VERY long day at the Race for the Cure (as you can see Nick demonstrating in this first photo), I headed to the Warrick Co Senior Center Auction with Mom and Pam to do a little shopping. Mike was out of town, and I promised I'd keep the spending below last year's (which was a little over the top, I must say). Hey! It is a good cause.

So here's the loot. I *did* stay under last year (by a few bucks), but what was crazy was that I grabbed a certain amount of money before I left, thinking it was 'extra', and ended up spending exactly that amount when I checked out. And I wasn't keeping track of the spending. Just another instance of God providing to whomever needs it, this time to someone else FROM us.

GWP!


Oh, so I got a bunch of fall decor, a movie night basket, some great frames I'm going to repurpose, and a bunch of gift certificates. Fun times!

Christmas Dinner

As I mentioned in my before-the-holidays post, we went to the Black Bear Jamboree on Christmas Day. Below is a layout that Aly and I completed to showcase the photos, and the memories. I've since journaled in the large green box, and the text is included below. Supplies on this LO include papers and elements from an old Christmas kit (Basic Gray Fruitcake, I believe). This also begins to show my love of stickles, which don't show up very well in the photo.



Journaling now reads,
We've been to Gatlinburg lots of times, even in the winter, but we'd never been on Christmas Day. To celebrate, we went to the Black Bear Jamboree dinner and show.
It wasn't as cheesy as we expected, and the food was actually pretty good. Raggedy Ann was a little bit freaky - I hope that woman's voice in real life is several octaves lower.
After the dolls taught the grumpy bears the true meaning of Christmas, the cast (including someone closely resmbling our server) donned angel wings and assembled for the nativity scene. Knowing this had to be the final act, and hoping to avoid the long lines we endured on the way in, Mike asked if I was ready to leave. And Zak immediately replied ... "You can't walk out on Baby Jesus!"

Another Edwards family quote for the ages.

He is not here!

I think that was my title last year on Easter, referring, of course, to the risen Savior. [And if you think Easter is about a bunny, have I got a story* for you!] But this year, Easter Sunday falls on what would have been Isaiah's 12th birthday, and he is not here either.

Mike and I don't usually play "what if" because we know that everything happens for a reason. After Zak's medical problems and Isaiah's death, we weren't sure we would ever want to try to have another baby, but we did, and I believe that Aly's brother chose her for us. Aly was the perfect baby ... no medical issues at all and such a snuggle bug. We were truly blessed by her addition to our family.

When I think of Isaiah, I do wonder whether he and Zak would have been best friends. I wonder if he would have looked even more like Mike than Zak does. I wonder if he would have liked reading or history like Mike or science and math like me. But I also wonder if we would have ever had Aly, or any other children at all. Then I remember that God has a plan for us, and He will lead us down the path that helps us to grow into what He needs us to be.

Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything. James 1:2-4

I believe that our family is complete just as it is.
I think we're still working on mature.



*The true reason for celebrating Easter:
"Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here; he has risen! Remember how he told you, while he was still with you in Galilee: 'The Son of Man must be delivered into the hands of sinful men, be crucified and on the third day be raised again.'" Luke 24:5b-7

What About Love?

In case you don't recall my view of Valentine's Day, go read last year's post. I celebrate love every day, not just the 14th of Feb., and now that my life is so filled with the love of God, today only makes me sad. Sad, because there are so many people sending or receiving roses and candy and other gifts, when they don't really know what love is.
And that is all I'm going to rant about today.

What are you doing?

I wonder how many times I've said that to the children: WHAT are you doing?! or What are you DOING!?
Before waaaaassup (or 'sup) there was "Whatcha doin'?"
I suppose the work-related version is "What is the plan?"
Oh, and answering that very question is the basis of Twitter.
But I've come to the realization that you can't just let life happen around you ... that isn't how it is supposed to be. You do have to DO something.

For years, I was oblivious to the world. No, I wasn't in a coma, but I wasn't living either. I went through life, as a wife, a mother, a co-worker, just riding the tide. I've always professed that "everything happens for a reason" but that doesn't mean that we don't have choices. For the past few months, I have been an active participant in my life, in the world, and wow, what a difference it makes! I feel like I'm doing something that matters.

At work, I interview potential employees as well as write performance evaluations. People who get high marks from me are those that show initiative. Don't wait for someone to hand you a task, ask for one ... better yet, go find one! When you have a task to do, do you just complete it as prescribed, or are you adding value? Can you see the big picture and how you fit in? Do you understand the impacts of your actions on the rest of the team and the project schedule or budget? When you write a paper or prepare a presentation, do you use the active voice (The supervisor reviewed the report and corrected the issue) or the passive voice (The report was reviewed and the issue was corrected)? Now, let's translate that to LIFE ...

Are you waiting to see what life hands you? Do you let things happen to you or do you make them happen for you? Are you adding value to the lives of the people around you? Are you making a difference in the world? Do you see beyond your own life, into the lives of others? Are you actively participating in your life? In the grand scheme of things, what are you accomplishing on this planet? What is your legacy? What are you DOING?

If you ask a parent what his or her legacy is, they will most likely reference their children. A business owner will note their work. A philanthropist, their latest endowment. But there is more to life than just leaving a mark on the planet. What does that mark say about you? Have you been a good example to your children or your co-workers or your beneficiaries? If your children are your legacy - what you leave behind - are they equipped not only to exist but to live? You know that your children learn more from what you do than what you say. What are you doing that they can emulate?

There are no excuses, either. You are sick? Depressed? Not equipped yourself? Get over it! (You can always try laughing) You can choose to live regardless of your constraints. Even the most afflicted person can pray, and look what prayer can do! In my daily prayer life, I have been very focused on what I want God to change in my life. I have asked Him to do for me what I need... and I believe that He will, if I am asking according to His plan. (Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you. Matt 7:7) But have I forgotten that I need to ask Him what HE wants ME to do?! In case you didn't go to that post linked above, let me remind you about God's plans-- "For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." Or, from the translation The Message, "This is God's Word on the subject: ... I know what I'm doing. I have it all planned out—plans to take care of you, not abandon you, plans to give you the future you hope for." (Jer 29:11)

Looking back, I realize I have let much of my life pass me by. Now, every day, I am making choices that make a difference, that build my legacy. When God shows me His plan, he is asking me to join in His work. I can do that. What are you doing?

I've got a permanent case of the giggles

On Sunday, worn out from bailing the basement, I stayed home from church and decided to watch a Sunday morning evangelist on TV. Thousands of people were gathered in person, and I can only guess how many were watching with me remotely as the preacher delivered his sermon. And I use that term loosely.

I have been forever tainted by hearing my husband preach the Word of God. Even before he went to school, he delivered an expository message that takes a passage in the Bible and explains it within context and then challenges you to apply it to your life. I suppose some people might find that type of sermon too 'heavy' but I would say that a topical sermon (which picks a topic and then cites verses to support it) could really twist the meaning of the Word of God. A sermon should teach you something about God's Word and make you think about applying it to your own life, not entertain you and water down the truth.

Take for example, this past Sunday morning. The message was "The Healing Power of Laughter," which translated to a series of funny stories glued together by various disparate Bible verses. I don't doubt that each of the stories he claimed to be true were, in fact, true. I would agree that it was 30 minutes that was not unpleasant. There was even a nice message in there -- your life will be better if you laugh more. But I also don't understand how it was a sermon. This guy claimed that sickness, cancer, depression and marital woes could be cured by laughter. But he never talked about how you can have that kind of laughter within you to start with. Well, he did say that you should read funny books and watch funny movies. Hmmm, not what I was thinking. Instead of quoting Proverbs that many people have heard before (A joyful heart is good medicine....17:22), why not explain how you can be filled with joy? Where does that kind of laughter come from?

The book of Philippians was written by the Apostle Paul from a Roman prison. Many people believe this letter was written about the same time that Nero was feeding Christians to lions and burning their bodies to light his feasts. It would have been a little tough for Paul to work up a belly laugh in these kinds of conditions, far from his friends and fellow Christians, but nearly every paragraph in the book contains the word "joy" or "joyous". Paul had true joy, joy that is always within, and I would challenge that you cannot have that kind of joy without knowing God. When you understand the love of God, and accept eternal life through Christ Jesus, you know how things end. Regardless of your past or your present or even what may come, you know that in the end, good triumphs over evil, that "he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus." (Phil 1:6) When you base your life on this fact, it matters not what trials may come. When the joy comes from within, you can laugh in the worst of circumstances.

Do I believe that laughter can heal? Well, I believe that both laughter and healing come from God. Is it the laughter that heals, or is it God that brings both laughter and healing to those that are sick? Is this laughter simply a sign of God's healing presence? Here is what I know, from personal experience: I can laugh, really laugh, now that I'm following God's plan for my life. I know there is nothing that God doesn't know, nothing He can't pull back on course. I don't expect that I won't catch a cold, or even that I won't have struggles with depression, but I do know that I am eternally loved by God, and that is always good for a giggle.

Cool Song

Youtube won't let me embed the video, so click the link and watch it there.
It's got a great message.

Brandon Heath

The best offense is a good defense

Is that how that saying goes? You'd think the coach's wife would know, but I'm not sure if that is the right way to say it. I can tell you that it makes sense to me. When you go on the offensive to try and fix your life, connect with friends and live for God, you had better have an even stronger defensive plan, because Satan sure doesn't like you to be happy.

After many bummers this week, which didn't phase me too much, I was verging on a full blown panic attack this afternoon, not for anything that happened to me, but just my mind filling the unknown with something negative. Within two minutes, I had two random texts from different people asking how my day was going. All I had to say was "not good, pray" and I was covered. Now was that a coincidence? Um, no.

Two lessons here:
1. It ain't all roses and sunshine, this "being a Christian 24/7" thing.
2. God's gotcha covered on offense AND defense. Just let Him call the plays.

Oh, and one more thing ... when someone at work saw I was looking ill, she asked what was going on and I told her that it might sound crazy, but aligning my life with God's plan was making me a target of the enemy. That's called witnessing, folks. She says her sister is "one of those born again people". Hmmm, maybe I was answering a prayer for that sister while two of my friends were on their knees for me.

Offense? Defense? Heck, I'm usually watching the cheerleaders and remembering my own high school years. I don't always follow all the rules or know what the Coach is thinking for the next play, but I know which way the end zone is and I'm going for the extra point.

Paaahahaha. I'll leave the sports analogies to my husband from now on.
But you get it, right?

Patience

Patience is really important when your timeline includes eternity.

2009 Word of the Year

A trend in the scrapbook world has been to choose a word to focus on for the year. Words like joy, achieve, simplify, balance. Folks make a small token with the word on it and hang it where they see it every day. It's not just for scrapping, but for living your life, though you can build an album around the word.

I've decided that my word for 2009 is

LOVE

I am committed to living a life of unconditional agape love.
This begins with accepting the love of God.
It allows me to love myself, as a child of God.
It overflows into the love for my husband, children and extended family and friends.
And it expands into loving actions at work and in the world in general.

Whether you choose a word for this year or not, there will be something that guides your decisions, your actions and your life. Is it love?

My Christmas Wish

I wish you love.

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.
It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.
Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.
It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.
Love never fails. I Cor 13:4-8a (NIV)

THAT kind of love.

May God bless you with His love.

Happy Thanksgiving!

May God bless you on this day, as He has me.

:gobble gobble:

Three Nails

You might think that a pastor's wife would use this title to explain to her millions of faithful readers the gift of Jesus Christ and His great sacrifice. You might think that a Christian woman would use this title to tell the world that every single person was saved by a single Man who was the Son of God. You might think that one of God's children would use this title to plead with you to stop and pray for the blood of Jesus to cover your sins. You might think that I would use this title to relate the story of the crucifixion and -- even better! -- the resurrection.

But, no.

I just wanted to tell you that I only have three fingernails left.

Does God still speak to people today?

Perri asked this question on her blog today, and provided a link to Sherri, whose nine year-old daughter will testify to a yes. This reminded me of an experience I had when we lived in Greenwood. I thought I had blogged about it but I can't find it. It was when we were pastoring the Trinity Church (before we started The Living Room) and we were on our way there one Sunday morning.

Since I was in college (and maybe even high school), I have felt that God spoke to me. I would know what to do (or what not to do); I would understand whether people were being truthful ... I call it discernment. I also spoke with God the morning Isaiah died, and I'll tell you that story on his next birthday. It is a rare thing to physically hear the voice of God, and on this particular Sunday morning, my family was blessed that I did.

We lived just off Hwy 31 in Greenwood, IN and had to make a left turn from a side road onto 31 North. Mike often mentioned how dangerous this intersection was as we frequently darted through it. On this morning, I had to wait for the green to proceed through the intersection, and I hadn't rolled more than six feet forward when I heard Mike yell "STOP!!" I immediately slammed on the brakes and everyone's seat belts held them tight as a bright red pickup truck traveling south sped through the intersection just feet in front of us. The truck squealed to a halt but took 3-4 car lengths past the intersection to stop completely. He must have been traveling 50 - 60 mph and would have t-boned our Durango. Mike and the kids may have been ok but I'm not sure I would have survived.

Very shaken, hearts racing, I moved forward with the turn and we proceeded on to church. Mike said I had saved our lives by stopping so suddenly and I said it was him yelling that had really done it.

"What do you mean?" he asked, "I didn't yell."

"I mean when you shouted 'STOP!'" I said. "I didn't hesitate to slam on the brakes when I heard you yell in a voice like that."

He stared at me intently. "Tonya," he said quietly (and he NEVER calls me Tonya), "I didn't say anything. You stopped because you saw the truck coming, right?"

Neither Mike nor the children heard the Voice that morning, but I can say I did not see that truck until it was passing within inches of the front of our halted car. I stopped because a Voice told me to stop and I obeyed.

Does God still speak to people today? He does. You don't have to be a priest or the Pope or even a "good person" to receive direction from God. Does he appear in a cloud or burning bush with a booming voice like Charlton Heston? Well, not usually, but you should hope that you are never in a situation where you need Him to contact you in that manner. It would be easier to do the right thing every day if He sent answer-grams when you had a question, but no one said doing the right thing was easy.

Listen for the quiet Voice of God, every day. He is speaking to you.

Yet Another Slumber Party

and NO, not at our house. Do you think I'm CRAZY?

Aly went to Emily's house last night and all six girls were still snoozing when I got there at 10 am. She had some quick pancakes (I think I started a trend) and we were off to pottery class. I hung out in the sunshine and read the latest Entertainment Weekly magazine until she was done. Then we went to Burger King because she had a coupon for a free shake. Chocolate, in case you were wondering.

Next we watched the season finale of Lost. Fabu as usual.

Now it is a rainy Saturday afternoon and I'm watching cheesey sci-fi movies (Charlie Sheen as a scientist?) and avoiding work. All day Monday, I'll be in the Annual Review Committee meeting, discussing the Seniors and Associates in three of the account teams in WFP. I'll present the five files I've reviewed and the group will rate all 30 as compared to their peers. This rating determines salary increases and bonuses. That means I have to finish today. I'm thinking of going to the amusement park tomorrow. I need to check the weather Me + 90 degree heat = grumpy disaster.

As for church, we're still up in the air. Does it sound too elitist to say we're looking for the perfect place and we don't believe it exists? Having seen "behind the scenes" at many different churches, we have a different perspective than most when it comes to choosing one. Of course I want it to have strong children's programs and a pastor who isn't afraid to preach the Word, but we have a no-compromise belief system too. I think we should give our "Living Room" church another shot, even if it is a virtual living room on line first. I just think the only way I trust someone to lead me in the Way is me or my husband.

Mmmmkay, so that was deep. I think that whole story is a whole 'nother post. Back to Charlie Sheen. He's underground watching aliens put on their human suits.

Letting God Drive ...

I did adopt this as my blog motto, and I want you to know that Mike and I practice this in real life too.

For about nine months, Mike has been the pastor at the English Ministry for a Korean Prebyterian church. We knew it would be a tough assignment, and it was. Today our assignment has come to an end. We are letting God drive, and moving on to the next journey He will lead us on.

He is not here!

In my humble opinion, the most powerful four words ever uttered.
No, I'm not talking about what I tell the bill collectors when they call during dinnertime and ask for Mike.

THIS is what I'm talking about ...

After the Sabbath, at dawn on the first day of the week, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary went to look at the tomb. There was a violent earthquake, for an angel of the Lord came down from heaven and, going to the tomb, rolled back the stone and sat on it. His appearance was like lightning, and his clothes were white as snow. The guards were so afraid of him that they shook and became like dead men.

The angel said to the women, “Do not be afraid, for I know that you are looking for Jesus, who was crucified. He is not here; he has risen, just as he said. Come and see the place where he lay. Then go quickly and tell his disciples: ‘He has risen from the dead and is going ahead of you into Galilee. There you will see him.’ Now I have told you.” So the women hurried away from the tomb, afraid yet filled with joy, and ran to tell his disciples.

Matthew 28:1-8 (NIV)

If you believe that the story of Jesus's death and resurrection is just that - a story - I would encourage you to open your mind, and your heart, to the truth. Jesus died -- was brutally murdered -- and took the sins of the world upon himself. Three days later, he arose. Not as a spirit, but as a living breathing man, walking around on earth and eating lunch with his disciples. He sits today at the right hand of God, interceding on our behalf.

I'm not one to jump in front of someone and yell "turn or burn" -- unless God tells me to. And on this day, the day of our risen Saviour, He is telling me that someone out there might read this and see the truth. Is it YOU?

Happy Easter!!