IT'S A HARnDen LIFE...

Always Believe

University of North Carolina-Greensboro 2021

“This is the lesson: never give in, never give in, never, never, never, never—in nothing, great or small, large or petty—never give in.” Winston Churchill said this to a group of graduates in 1941. It is my battle cry for raising children. My son graduates from college tonight. Making the Dean’s List the last two semesters while studying for the LSAT. It is an awesome accomplishment, one that comes as no surprise to me, but may to some who have crossed his path.

From birth, Jeffrey has been, how can I say this nicely, stubborn, hard-headed, willful, you get the idea. They broke my water at 5 am, promising he would be born within minutes. 8 1/2 hours later he came reluctantly into the world. Let me give you the scenario, my husband actually said, and by the way, he is still alive, “Honey if you pushed a little harder and a little longer each time, I think this whole thing would go a little faster.” Oh you do, do you? The entire birth crew took several steps back, ready to call a Homicide Squad. Eventually, Jeffrey made his entrance, all 8 pounds 12 ounces and 23.75 inches of him. The nurse muttered something about no wonder I had a tough time. He gave us the first scare of his life. He was blue and not breathing. They did the sternum rub to no avail. One nurse began to sing and he started to cry. She quipped that her bad singing always did the trick.

That would not be the only time that Jeffrey scared the life out of us. This child was beyond his years. The smartest toddler I’ve ever known. They tell you to read to your child. No one tells you at what age. So, I started when my son was an infant. We read before nap time and before bedtime. It became our ritual, signaling time for sleep. It was also a glorious bonding time and an adventure into worlds like Curious George and Narnia. He would listen as long as I would read, even as a one-year-old. It stymied my mom! At 18 months old, he couldn’t be fooled by telling him that his favorite annoying toys were broken. He was quick to tell you, “Actually, Mommy, they just need new batteries.” If you were to tell him how much there was of something, he would tell you, “That’s just an estimate.” And how can you possibly fathom a two-year-old who memorized the capitols of every U.S. state? Knew and identified alphabet. He read before he went to school.

With a mind like that, boredom came easily. As Jeffrey grew, he often pushed the limits to challenge himself. Unfortunately, it wasn’t always good for him or his mom or dad. We were told that Jeffrey liked to walk to the edge and lean over. It made for traumatic high school years. No matter what came our way, I never gave in. I prayed for him. I prayed with him. I loved him no matter what. I stood by him, knowing the “real” him. I always believed in him.

And so here we are. He is graduating with a degree in Political Science and a concentration in Pre Law; Law school is next. My heart is so full it could burst. God is so good, and Jeffrey has worked so diligently. This past week in Bible study, everyone was talking about the meaning of their name. I looked up his. It means “God’s Peace.” That is who he is and will be in this world. He is a great negotiator!

If I could give one piece of advice to young parents or parents of teens, it is the words of Winston Churchill, “never give in, never give in, never, never, never, never—in nothing, great or small, large or petty—never give in.” The future and success of your child depend on this. We are living proof. My son Jeffrey, who from the start had a thirst for knowledge, with “God’s Peace”, Love and Mercy, graduates with honors, with so much more to come.

I believe in you ALWAYS!

AND THIS IS MY BABY…

My Aunt Karen tells it that my grandma would introduce her four daughters this way, “This is my daughter Blanche. This is my daughter Rachel. This is my daughter Maureen. And this, this is my baby”, motioning to my Aunt Karen. The youngest child holds a special place in a mother’s heart. I know. I am also the youngest of 4 daughters, my mother’s Baby. I have my own Baby. Funny thing about the Baby of the family, they never really outgrow the title, “as long as I’m living my baby you’ll be”, so says the popular children’s book. Babies are ageless, timeless. There is something about our Baby that keeps us forever young, bonded by the last bits and shreds of our youth. Today mine turns 21. My Kelliann.

Of course, it seems like yesterday when 10 minutes and 3 pushes delivered her into this world, We had many names picked out for a girl. But the moment I saw her, I saw Kelliann, Maybe that delivery should have been a hint of what was to come. She has always been easy. Kelliann took a pacifier, or 3-4, and was good to go, She slept through the night quickly. We nicknamed her “Happy-Go-Lucky’ for the way she just went with life. In our house that was a plus. She has a dad who works a crazy schedule and a brother who, well, took his role as firstborn, boundary-pushing, very seriously. Always the entertainer, the comic relief, the cuddler, Kelliann gave us sunshine.

She worshipped her older brother by 23 months, played with him and his friends, She hated girl drama and was heartbroken when she was targeted by it. And there were times, just like my mom did for me, that I had to “give a piece of my mind” to a few people for the way they were treating her. Sometimes being good-natured isn’t all that it is cracked up to be. Life has taught her that a few good friends are better than many poor ones.

She tried out for the school talent show every year, singing her heart out, gracious no matter the outcome. She played all kinds of league sports, usually the smallest on the field or court. What she lacked in size she made up for in sheer determination. In basketball I THINK, Kelliann may have inbounded the ball to herself, brought it up the court, passed it to herself back and forth, scrapped on the floor with herself, recovered the ball, and scored, Impossible I know, but if you saw the veracity with which she played, you would swear it so.

This is the way Kelliann has gone about life, never backing down. In the face of rejection or defeat, she may have been down for a while, but she was never out. She has always drawn from her inner strength and faith in God to fight her way back. She reminds me so much of my mum, who fought through difficulty by putting a new spin on life. For Kelliann it was the realization that her love for clean eating and cooking made for a perfect college major. So, already into her second year, she made the switch. While others would have been afraid to change majors, Kelliann not only caught up but she received a mentorship only given to ten nutrition majors. She excelled.

Through it all I’ve been right there, to dry the tears, to pray through the difficult days, to offer often unsolicited advice, to sit up sleepless nights. And it is in those times, and the good, we have forged a friendship, so much like the one that I shared with my mum. We laugh at the same tired jokes and bits that we do. We shop together, go out to lunch or dinner, watch our addiction “Dateline” on every channel it airs. We take daily walks with our Goldendoodles and talk and talk, sharing hopes and dreams. It is all so reminiscent, except for the dogs, of me and my mum.

On the wall of her room, Kel has posted this: “I am a strong woman because a strong woman raised me.” My mom taught me to “pick myself up and brush myself off” and start over. She never quit. My God teaches me to rely on His strength to be strong. “But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.” (2 Corinthians 12:9-10)

Whenever Kelliann picked herself up and brushed herself off, she always started all over again with God’s help. My Baby never wallows in self-pity or defeat. This baby who came so easily into the world has always stayed true to who she is. We picked a life verse for her when she was born, “Jesus replied: “‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.” (Matthew 12:37-39) She loves. She loves God, her family, and her friends. She loves fiercely,

So beautiful a verse given 21 years ago, and so true to who she is. We have had many nicknames for our children, but the one that we called her the most, we still call her today, “Pretty”, inside and out. Child of God, entertainer, comic relief, athlete, who lettered in high school softball, one who loves fiercely, This, this is my Baby…

Hoo-Rae! A Tribute

Rachel (Rae) McGrath

While I can’t remember the day that I took my first breath, the day my Mum drew her last is forever engraved in my memory. I sat beside her and my sisters, holding her hand, watching her slowly ebb away. That was 6 years ago. She lost a well-fought battle against Alzheimer’s. My Mum was not one to go down without a fight. While she would say she was a “Go with the flow” kind of gal, she made things happen.

When I was a child, well, even when I was in my turbulent twenties or when I lost my first baby to miscarriage, my mom would say, “ I wish that I had a magic wand and could make everything all better.” Those words alone often did. My mom was a salve in human form. She would fight for her girls or my dad with great tenacity. Tenacious is the word for my mum. She never thought of herself like that, though. She always downplayed herself. But oh, can I give you examples of her tenacity?

As a little girl, her older brother would let her play baseball with his friends…” way out in the outfield,” she would say, implying she was not good enough. But my mum was athletic. In high school, she wanted to make the cheer squad. She came up with an idea of doing something no one else would do. She did cartwheels around the entire gymnasium. She garnered that spot on the squad!

My Mum would show us pictures of herself and tell us she was homely. Yet she caught the eye of a handsome redheaded guy from the next town. He would walk to her house in heavy snow just to see her. Her desire to see him led her to ask her dad, a county detective, to rent the hall over the county jail on Saturday nights. They sold pop and such to cover the rent.

She married that redheaded Paul McGrath and together they had 4 girls, or as she would say, “4 good girls.” Ask my mom what she wanted for her birthday or any gift-giving holiday, and the answer was always the same: “4 good girls.” You’d get that answer at least 4 times a year. You’d think she was raising hellions. She did not. My parents raised four girls who loved them, respected them, listened to them, cared for them, rushed to their sides when they fell ill, and offered them comfort as they had once been comforted by them. 4 Good Girls.

My Mum understood the value of money. When she was 10, she worked the bingo at night as a coat check girl to pay her family’s telephone bill. She wore her mom’s suit on her first date with my dad, safety-pinned at the waist to make it smaller. She carried that over to our own family, buying fabric and sewing all our clothes. She made our prom dresses, and mine was straight out of my favorite movie. There were no VCRs or DVRs to pause then. So when the scene came on, she sketched it as fast as she could. She made her own pattern and sewed it. She made our wedding dresses, except mine, because I lived too far away to fit. She did make my train. She made every bridesmaid, flower girl, and her own mother of the bride dresses. The money we saved was monumental. The memories we now have are priceless.

In the 8th grade, I was the lead, director, prop master, etc., for the school play. I had taken on too much and dropped the ball on one thing. The teacher was upset with me because I had forgotten a prop. She backed me up against a wall and reduced me to tears. I had to go home from school. Once there, my mother got the story and drove to the school. This particular teacher was renowned for being mean, mean, mean. When my mum left the school, the principal, Sister Dominic, handed the teacher tissues. My Mum never even raised her voice. She only wanted to know what had happened to her little girl.

When we moved from Pennsylvania to Missouri in 1971, my Mum left all her friends and family behind. She cried all the way through Ohio. It’s a BIG state. I was 8. I thought we were moving to the Old West, not the Midwest. They even promised us horses. We got bikes instead. Ten years later, they moved back to Pittsburgh, this time without all four girls. My mum was devastated, but not lost. She reinvented herself. She took golf lessons to spend time with my daddy and his favorite hobby. She took flower decorating. She renewed old friendships by moving down the street from our dearest friends. She took a job at a legal office. She made things happen.

My entire life, people said that I looked just like my Mum. My desire is to be just like her. We shared a friendship that ran deep because we were so much alike. We cried at the same things, rejoiced at the same things, and laughed at the same things. We made each other laugh during good times and especially bad. I had a bad habit of handing her my leg like Harpo Marx did when she was down. She would shake me off, and it would also shake off the mood. When she starred in a play, I memorized the other character’s lines to help her learn hers. We shopped, drank margaritas, and watched “Heaven Can Wait” a million times together. I was her Baby, a coveted position in the family, and our bond was and is unbreakable.

My mom never lost her sense of humor through it all. She broke her arm and had a cast on it for four months. She had to have it x-rayed for a progress report. Hospice sent a portable X-ray machine to her. The technician introduced himself. “My name is Dennis,” he said. “Would I like to dance?” she responded. “No. My name is Dennis,” he said again. “I know that. I was just messing with you..” she laughed. We all did.

That was just 3 months before she left us. She went from her sharp wit to not making sense so quickly. Just days before she died, I drove to South Carolina to see her. She really wasn’t communicating well anymore. When I arrived, she was sitting in her chair. She reached up for my face. I bent down. She put her hands on my cheeks. Clear as can be, she said, “I didn’t know you were coming.” I told her, “Of course, I was coming to see you.” The next day, she stopped talking, and two days later, she went home to Heaven.

If we could have had a magic wand, Mummy, we would have waved away your Alzheimer’s -your 4 Good Girls. We would have made sure that you would have lived your days healthy and without any deficits. But God is good. The person with Alzheimer’s doesn’t know that they have it. It is the relatives and friends who do and who miss the one they love. Thank God that He holds the magic wand and that you never knew what you were missing, that you kept your sense of humor, that you enjoyed your family and friends, and that you continued to bring us all joy until you left us, and that your memory will continue to do so. Tenacious in life and forevermore.

I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith:

2 Timothy 4:7-8

Lessons From My Father(s)

My daddy taught me many things. One: “No one ever said life was going to be fair.”, and Two: The power of positive thinking. I didn’t know the extent of the latter until after he passed away in 2006. A few years before that, he had a stroke that left him partially paralyzed on one side of his body. He spent time in rehab to relearn the things we all take for granted. When he came home, his face still drooped. He had many deficits. He also had extreme determination.

On the mirror in his bathroom, he placed a picture of himself flanked by two physical therapists from rehab. It was the day he left, a crooked smile on his face. Next to the picture, he posted a handwritten note that read, “Every day, in every way, I am getting better and better.” I loved that quote and read it each time I visited. It wasn’t until this year that I researched it. A French pharmacist turned psychologist coined the phrase in the early 1900s. As a pharmacist, Émile Coué understood the placebo effect. He knew praising a medicine’s effectiveness improved a patient’s chances of recovery. He sold his pharmacy and channeled that power of positive thinking into psychology. His patients repeated affirmations, at least 20 times a day, starting in the morning and ending at night. Coué believed his patients could cure themselves more efficiently replacing their “thoughts of illness” with a new “thought of a cure”.

Coué was a hundred years ahead of his time. Today we understand the elasticity of the brain. “Use it or lose it” is true. Neuroscientists know that an impoverished brain that isn’t learning new things shrinks, a well-fed brain that learns grows. This field of science leads the fight against Alzheimer’s and dementia. It’s called neuroplasticity. The brain’s ability to grow also allows it to replace negative thoughts with positive thoughts using Coué method. The brain can realign itself! My dad was doing it. “Every day, in every way, he was getting better and better.”

My dad believed he was going to get better and set out to do it. Armed with his mantra and his home rehab exercises, he faithfully did his regime. He worked his facial muscles, walked the mall, had lunch with his friends, and attended church every Sunday He kept his faith quiet and never spoke of the note on his mirror. I bet that those last two had more of an impact than the physical routines. My daddy fought the good fight. 2 Timothy 4: 7, “I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith.” The man who told me that life wasn’t fair, found a way to level the playing field by changing his thinking.

What thinking do you need to change? Which thoughts fill your head that need to be realigned? Most all of the things we tell ourselves are lies. You can tell yourself the truth. You can know who you really are.

Now your attitudes and thoughts must all be constantly changing for the better. Ephesians 4:23

“For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb.
I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
your works are wonderful,” Psalm 139:13-14

“So God created man in His own image;
He created him in the image of God;
He created them male and female.” Genesis 1:27

“We know that God has chosen you, dear brothers, much beloved of God.”
1Thessalonians 1:4

God created you and loves you! No matter where you stand on the issue of religion, the Creator of all loves you. It doesn’t get any better than that. Think of one thing that you want to tell yourself. Maybe it’s that you are ENOUGH. You are! You are made in the image and likeness of God. Today start telling yourself over and over, “I am enough.” Get up in the morning and say it. Say it all day. Say it when something makes you feel like you are not. Say it when you hit the sack. Perhaps you feel sick all the time, instead of saying “I feel bad.”, replace it by “I feel healthy and energetic.” Try it for 3 months. Trust God to help you. See if “Every day, in every way, you are getting better and better.”

Everyone’s a Critic

Boxer in the arena — Photo by cottonbro on Pexels.com

You don’t have to look too far to find the truth in this title. Open up any social media and you will find someone criticizing someone for something they have posted. It can be as simple as a joke, or a meme. It can be more complex, a belief or God forbid, a political opinion. But instead of scrolling on by, the critic will pounce, not to attempt to inform, but destroy.

These are tough days. Ask any mental health professional and they will say that these are the worst days people have ever faced in their lives. This pandemic and the isolation that goes along with it, are taking people to the breaking point. Sadly, many find it impossible to share their struggles because we live in a “Buck Up Bucko” society. We live in a time when people who do not or cannot understand what others face, belittle them.

Imagine having a full-time job and kids in school starting different hours online. Add the juggling work, homework, teaching lessons and anxiety that children cannot play with friends. Imagine all the “People Persons” isolated in their houses, who lack friendly hugs, coffee, lunches, and church. Imagine seniors who do not understand why their families do not come, why they cannot have a haircut, why they are alone. Imagine having college students taking their classes remotely and missing out on the fun of college life, missing on meeting prospective spouses, making important connections with professors who could advance their careers someday. Now imagine that you are unable to share your frustrations because you have had negative experiences with people who think you just need to deal with it all.

All of the people above are in a battle. Maybe the critics aren’t. President Theodore Roosevelt said it best about those in the midst of battle and the critics:

“It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows, in the end, the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat”.

If you are in the battle, the credit belongs to you, not the one who is on the sidelines pointing out what they think you could do better. Every person working, teaching their child, attending college remotely, trying to stay connected is in a worthy cause. The days may be chaotic, but getting up each day and getting back at it is a victory. Being in the arena is tough. It is at times thankless. After the battle is over, the rewards are great, win or lose. Staying in the arena and not quitting is what makes us stronger, better.

Do not listen to the critics. Anyone can be a one. It takes a strong person to hold their tongue. It takes someone willing to extend grace, willing to be polite and thoughtful in the way they behave and speak.

“Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths, but only what is helpful for building others up according to their needs, that it may benefit those who listen”. (Ephesians 4:29)

If you lead a battle that takes you down, time and time again, there is help.

Call 911 if you or someone you know is in immediate danger or go to the nearest emergency room.

National Suicide Prevention Lifeline
Call 1-800-273-TALK (8255); En español 1-888-628-9454
Use Lifeline Chat on the web
The Lifeline is a free, confidential crisis service that is available to everyone 24 hours a day, seven days a week. The Lifeline connects people to the nearest crisis center in the Lifeline national network. These centers provide crisis counseling and mental health referrals.

Beauty From Brokenness

The Japanese have a beautiful art form of repairing broken bowls called kintsugi (golden repair). The more than 4 centuries old method honors the broken item’s rich history by emphasizing, not hiding, the break. Local craftsman stumbled upon the method after the 15th Century Shogun broke his favorite tea bowl and some poor methods were employed to fix it. The artisans then decided to highlight the flaws, rather than try to hide them, making beauty from brokenness.

Bowls are mended with a golden lacquer, making them works of art and strengthened with gold. We are all like these broken vessels. Broken, unique, but like those bowls, it is what makes us beautiful and strong.

Every hurt, every heartache, heart break, every time we have fallen down or fallen apart, everything that breaks us, it is the getting back up that forges us like gold, makes us beautiful in our brokenness.

The friends, the family, the faith that sustain us, all make up the gold lacquer that fill the cracks in our brokenness. Seek those out when you are feeling as if you have crashed to the floor into bits and pieces. Find what it is that makes you stronger, what makes you beautiful in your brokenness, that holds you together. He is near.

The Son is the gleaming brightness of God’s glory. He is the exact likeness of God’s being. He uses his powerful word to hold all things together.

Hebrews 1:3a

Starry, Starry Night

This time of year the daytime turns to night time in a blink of an eye. Winter days are short. The nights are long, dark and cold. That cold air seems to brighten and boost the streaming light of the stars. Much in the same way, my daughter Kelliann turned from a baby girl into a young lady in that blink of an eye. The years have been short. On a cold, dark night last week she set off to give a speech, the final part of her Senior Project, and when she came down the stairs, she shone as bright as any star that dotted the Carolina sky. I was a bit struck by how much she looked like a star…a little Audrey Hepburn.

There was a bit of irony that night. Gracing a little black dress, pearls and hair in a bun, she was prepared to deliver a speech on the disparities between women playing softball and men playing baseball. Maybe better she should have worn her softball uniform. She is a Ragsdale’s varsity softball pitcher after all. She has played since middle school. Her ride is about to end. Only the elite play in college, 100 professionally. While Alex Rodriguez made a half a billion dollars over his career 20 years ago as the best hitter in baseball, his softball counter part at the same time, the University of Arizona’s Leah O’Brien, made next to nothing during her career. She does have 3 Olympic Gold Medals. This was Kelliann’s speech in part.

The best part of her project was the product, which was an DVD interview with Leah O’Brien via FaceTime. As a former television producer/interviewer, I was incredibly impressed the way my 17 year old daughter handled herself with this 3 time Olympian. NCAA Softball Champion, NCAA All American athlete. Kelliann may not be ABC’s Elizabeth Vargas yet, but Elizabeth may need to keep her 20/20 eyes on her.

She aptly named her project “Fair Ball?” As parents we turn ourselves upside down and inside out trying to teach our children that life isn’t fair. Leah O’Brien did this for us in a 15 minute FaceTime interview. In a game where the ball, the field and the bat may be different, everything else remains the same, the love of the game, the passion to play and the drive to win. Opportunities to play, to be compensated, to be recognized, well those 3 strikes are against you. If you play it simply because you love it, fairness really isn’t an issue. Leah said she would do it all over just to play and pave the way for the next generation.

And so my “Breakfast at Tiffany’s” young woman made her case to the judges. In the end she hit a home run-a perfect score. Telling the judges, like Leah. “I don’t regret a practice a game, a pitch, a swing and even running sprints.” She played it for the love of the game and learned a valuable lesson. Shine Kelliann, Shine!

For Crying Out Loud

I cried for the first time on Sunday since the pandemic started. I cried hard. Sat on my bathroom floor and sobbed. It has been 6 months since I have stepped foot in a church. I have had to watch on TV with a puppy continually bringing me a ball and my older dog begging to be petted. Not an optimal church experience. I am a people person. I love my church family. I have no family in North Carolina. They are my family. I love singing with them, worshipping with them and hearing God’s word-in His house. Oh, I know that I can pray anywhere. I pray all the time at home. Always have. But church is for gathering together-and the Bible, God’s holy and inspired word, commands us not to forsake gathering together. Yet here we are, on our couches, may as well be watching football…which is allowed for crying out loud. But “no” to praying and singing and gathering in the name of God.

I cried for my two college age children trying to get an education, paying to be on a college campus, yet they are sitting at my kitchen counter on laptops. I cried because they are not around others their own age, making new friends or finding the potential love of their life. They won’t find those in my kitchen. I grieve for the impersonal level of education they are getting and worry if they are really “getting” their money’s worth, and how it will affect them in the long run when they enter the job market one day,

I cried for my friend, at her wits end trying to teach both an elementary student and a middle schooler who is extremely gifted, while maintaining a high powered law career-from home, I heard the desperation in her voice and listened to her helplessly as she sounded like she was at the breaking point, considering quitting her incredible job. How will her children fare in all of this, all the gifted children? How will the children who are academically challenged fare? What will become of them as they enter high school and one day attempt higher education?

I cried because I saw people on social media laughing and cheering as people’s boats sank to the bottom of a lake-people who were peacefully gathering, doing no harm to anyone or thing. Yet, they look the other way when businesses are being destroyed and the there is loss of innocent life during the riots and protests.

I cried because of how this has become a political football. You are a Democrat if you dutifully wear a mask and a Republican if you don’t. WHAT??? The “Wear A Mask” crowd is now saying “Don’t trust the vaccine.” When did health go out the window?

The truth is the information keeps changing and people don’t know what to believe. There is no endgame. No plan. No target date. If you give most people those things, they can put up with almost anything, In the absence of those, you have uncertainty, fear and eventually panic.

And there is no end in sight. What is the game plan? This has been circulating Facebook. You may agree or disagree. It is however, thought provoking.

“Anyone out there who can tell me what our end game is with the covid 19?

What is the magic formula that is going to allow us to sound the all clear?

Is it zero cases?

The only way that will happen is if we just stop testing and stop reporting.

Is it a vaccine?

It took 25 years for a chicken pox vaccine to be developed.

The smallpox inoculation was discovered in 1796 the last known natural case was in 1977.

We have a flu vaccine that is only 40 to 60% effective and less than half of the US population choose to get one, and roughly 20,000 Americans will die of the flu or flu complications.

Oh, you’ll mandate it, like other vaccines are mandated in order to attend school, travel to some foreign countries, etc.

We already have a growing number of anti vaxxers refusing proven, tested, well known vaccines that have been administered for decades but aren’t necessarily safe!

Do you really think people will flock to get a fast tracked, quickly tested vaccine, whose long term side effects and overall efficacy are anyone’s best guess?

How long are we going to cancel and postpone and reconsider?

You aren’t doing in person school until second quarter?

What if October’s numbers are the same as August’s?

You moved football to spring?

What if next March is worse than this one was?

When do we decide quality of life outweighs the risks?

I understand Covid can be deadly or very dangerous for SOME people, but so are strawberries and so is shellfish.

We take risks multiple times a day without a second thought.

We know driving a car can be dangerous, we don’t leave it in the garage. Many speed and don’t wear seatbelts.

We know the dangers of smoking, drinking and eating fried foods, we do it anyway.

Is hugging Grandma really more dangerous than rush hour on the freeway?

Is going out with friends after work more risky than 4 day old gas station sushi?

Or operating a chainsaw?

When and how did we so quickly lose our free will?

Is there a waiver somewhere I can sign that says, “I understand the risks, but I choose a life with Hugs and Smiles, and the State Fair and go to Church and go hug my Mom in her retirement home.

I understand that there is a minuscule possibility I could die, but I will most likely end up feeling like crap for a few days.

I understand I could possibly pass it to someone else, if I’m not careful, but I can pass any virus onto someone else.

I’m struggling to see where or how this ends.

We either get busy living or we get busy dying.

When God decides it’s your time, you don’t get any mulligans, so I guess I would rather spend my time enjoying it and living in the moment and not worrying about what ifs and maybes, and I bet I’m not the only one.”

Please don’t flood me with comments on this post. It is supposedly written by a nurse-could also be a some troll living in his mother’s basement. I don’t know. I do know that I am profoundly sad. We have given up a lot. Some of you still go about your daily lives pretty much like normal. I would like my “normal” back. I am a Christian. But I feel my faith and the right to practice it slowly ebbing away. I need to be in church each week with fellow believers. Iron sharpens iron. I’m sure any Muslim or Jew feels the same way right now. To allow NFL players to take the field on Sunday and not allow people in a church that same day is insane. To say that angry mobs of protestors and rioters chanting do not spread the virus but church goers singing and praying do -is beyond the pale.

Time to come clean. How broken will the country have to be before this ends? Is it all about the virus? Is it political? Will it be worth the price we all are paying? There has been a 27 percent increase in alcohol abuse since the pandemic began in the United States. Mental Health officials reports more than one-third of Americans have displayed clinical signs of anxiety, depression, or both since the start. (Census Bureau). Gun and ammunition sales have sky rocketed because people do not feel safe and fear life without police. Whatever the end game here is, I truly hope it is worth it. It seems we are being killed one way or another, in spirit or body. I fear it won’t be the one and only time that I cry,

No Such Thing As A Good Weed

12 Apr, 2018

A week ago he lay on a sandy beach on spring break having the time of his life. Today, he lays in a county coroner’s morgue lifeless -the victim of a drug deal gone bad. A deal over marijuana. He was 17 years young, so too the young man who pulled the trigger and shot him in the chest…over Weed. Weed.

Before the gun debate begins, let’s get one thing straight-A Human life was lost over marijuana. The sale and purchase of Marijuana is illegal in North Carolina It is a crime. While state after state in this once great country vote to legalize this so-called innocuous drug, it is not legal here. That law did not stop anyone from getting it to sell or stop anyone from attempting to buy it. And now a 17 year old is dead and a 17 year old faces life without parole because the “deal went bad”. I hate drugs.

Please do not tell me that you do not mind if your child smokes Weed- that it is safer than drinking. If you grew up in the 80’s, this isn’t your Pot. I’ll leave it to you to do the research, but suffice it to say that it is full of all kinds of things that your Pot was not. I never smoked Pot, didn’t have the desire and did not like the smell. Today’s Weed smells like skunk. It is full of things meant to addict. Don’t believe me, ask yourself why professional athletes like NFL star Pittsburgh Steelers Martavais Bryant cannot stay off the stuff. In 2016 he lost a MILLION DOLLARS of pay after failing a drug test for the third time for Weed. He battled back in 2017 for a last chance. He is just one of athletes who cannot kick the crap. He is a phenomenal, disciplined athlete. What chance do our kids have? I hate drugs.

The body and brain are at the second greatest growth spurts since infancy in the teen years. The brain doesn’t fully develop until age 25. Medical experts are now considering extending the age of adolescence to 25 for that reason. So why are we saying as a society that it is okay for kids to smoke Weed? It has been proven again and again that teen marijuana use causes multiple problems including behavioral issues-depression and anxiety, and other types of substance abuse, It is a gateway drug. There is a growing pile of evidence that links a steady marijuana habit to poorer mental and cognitive health outcomes among teens and lower IQ’s that never recover. I hate drugs.

Maybe you are in the “Not My Kid” crowd. We all are. Let me tell you a thing or two. If $20 dollars goes missing from your wallet on a consistent basis, your kid is doing drugs. If your credit card or debit card goes missing from time to time, your kid is doing drugs. If your child becomes apathetic towards you, school or anything they used to take interest in, they are doing drugs. If their grades drop, they are doing drugs. If their appearance becomes less than what it once was, they are doing drugs. If they call you names, tell you that they hate you, that you are crazy and that everyone knows it, they are doing drugs. The list goes on, but I think you can start to see the signs.

We have an Opioid Epidemic in America that is killing us. The latest data has the death rate at 64,000 people in a year. That are 6,000 more casualties than the total United States loss in the Viet Nam War. Yet, there are no Marches For Saving Our Kids on Washington DC. We’ve seen the stories of the couples dead in their cars of overdoses with their children still in the car seats in the back, the mom dead in the aisle of the store, her two year old sitting aside her. Opioids are almost glamorized. John Belushi, Chris Farley, Philip Seymour Hoffman, Prince all died from opioid induced deaths. No one does anything. I hate drugs.

I know of a family in Greensboro who lost their son to Xanax mixed with a night of drinking. His friends thought he had just passed out and they left to move on to another party. He was dead. The alcohol and Xanax together suppressed his central nervous system to the point of death. DEATH. Xanax dealers are now crushing the pills, lacing them with Fentanyl, repressing the pills and then selling them to unknowing users. It stretches the Xanax supply and gives a stronger high to the user. The problem is Fentanyl is an opioid. If the unknowing user mixes that with alcohol the result is death.

If you have any prescription drugs in your house, buy a lockbox like the ones that they have at high school games where they put the ticket money. Lock your pills inside. Teens will try anything that you have. Codeine is the most highly prescribed pain medication. It is an opioid. Percocet is an opiate and Vicodin contains a semi synthetic opiate. Muscle relaxants, anti anxiety meds- your house is a hotbed for drug experimentation if you are not vigilant.

I was a member of the “Not My Kid Club”. Now I am a member of an entirely different club. I stand shoulder to shoulder with parents who, like me, fight a battle against a hated foe for someone that they love. It is a foe that I hope will never lose to again. I try to keep my eyes wide open. I stand at the ready for the signals, the clues, the glaring signs right in front of me that I missed before. Not again, I say. But it could happen again. We all know. It’s an insidious, sneaky foe that fools its victims into thinking that it feels good-while it lays waste to everything and everyone in its path. I hate drugs. I despise them. There is not one that I would say is okay for my child or any child to do. I HATE DRUGS.

So I will tell you this one final time, never tell me again that you think that it’s okay for teens to smoke marijuana. That it is no big deal. Heavier drug use starts somewhere and it is no where good. One thing does lead to another. The young man who died of Xanax and alcohol did not start with Xanax. My bet was Weed. Today in Greensboro a 17 year old is dead because of marijuana.-a 17 year old faces life without parole because of marijuana. “A Drug Deal Gone Bad” has been the headline. That has to be the greatest trivialization of that young man’s abrupt end of life ever spoken. I hate drugs. You should too.

I scared God & Looked What Happened!

13 May 2016

I scared God. At least according to my friend Luis. 22 years ago, I hit my knees on the floor of my Phoenix apartment and told God, I got it. If it was just Him and me for the rest of my life, that would be enough for me. Now I was honest mind you. I am fully aware that God is omniscient. So no use holding anything back. I was quick to add that it was not the desire of my heart, but if if that is what he wanted, that would be enough for me. I tried on my own to find someone on this earth to love me. I used to say I was a “Loser Magnet”, until I realized that I was the one doing the choosing.(With the exception of one extraordinary man who led me to a small church that led me to Christ) A dear friend of mine was in an impossible situation at one time and couldn’t make anyone happy. His take away: “Everyone can’t be wrong. It must be him.” Another dear friend had countless heartbreaks, only to be told that she was the common denominator in all of the breakups. OUCH! Early in May 1994 I sat on my bed after a particularly devastating attempt to fill that hole in my heart, and I realized I was thecommon denominator, it was ME. I had forgotten something when I gave my heart to God 3 years before….ONLY HE CAN FILL THAT HOLE, because it is a God-shaped whole. That’s when I got out of bed and hit my knees and prayed. That’s the part that Luis says scared God, the thought of it just being Him and me scared Him enough to move in a big way on Friday May 13th 1994.

It was the beginning of the Western Conference Championship between the Phoenix Suns and the Houston Rockets. We were producing our newscasts from the AmericaWest Arena. My friend and boss Abbie was expecting her first child and not feeling her best and didn’t warm to the thought of running around in 100 degree plus temperatures. So she asked me to produce. Just before the 5pm show, armed with scripts and notes, I entered the arena filled with a mob of media. Music blaring. The Suns Cheerleaders practicing their dance routine. Behind them, the team mascot, a gorilla-slammed dunking baskets from a mini tramp. And then there was SILENCE. Nothing, but a clear voice saying, “There’s the man you are going to spend the rest of your life with”. No, not the gorilla. Just behind him, next to my team, stood a man I had never seen before, not Phoenix media. Sound resumed. I handed over scripts. Went out to the satellite, white as a ghost. The engineer asked if I was alright. Of course I said I was. Who would believe that story?

Before the 6pm, I went in with scripts. No voices. Just peace. After the 6pm, I went in to say “Good-bye and good job” to the crew. And then Danny Harnden from KVOA in Tucson introduced himself. My immediate reaction was to say I wasn’t Abbie, as my credentials said. I introduced myself and to my surprise, he called me by my nickname, “Sam”. It didn’t register until later. He had been asking my crew about me. They had told him to forget about me because I was a christian. It was meant to repel but had the opposite effect. Danny claims to have received a “word” that night as well. BONGO. That’s name brand of the jeans I was wearing and the leather tag was on the back pocket. Not as spiritual, a little more worldly. But it’s his story,

We saw each other again for the next home game. But the Suns were losing the series. So Danny loaned me a VHS tape of a song called In Christ Alone and how it helped Frank Reich lead the Buffalo Bills from a 32 point deficit to win a NFL Playoff game. It remains the biggest comeback in NFL history(Young people, a VHS tape is a Video Home System tape that was rectangular in shape that recorded and played back videos before DVDs) Back to our story, if the Suns lost the Series, I would have the tape and a way to see him again.

The Suns did lose. We like to say we won. I returned the tape two weeks later on our first date Memorial Day weekend. 6 weeks later we were engaged. We we married within 6 months. The theme of our wedding: In Christ Alone. In that brief bit of time, God caused us both to step out of ourselves and not act like we normally would. I wasn’t nsecure. Danny wasn’t afraid of commitment. It was all a God Thing.The

You would think I would never forget a watershed moment like that. You would think. But here we are at another Friday, May 13th and I have forgotten my Miracle Moment. I am like the Israelites in the movie “The Ten Commandments”. God parted the Red Sea and delivered them from their Egyptian captors. Their Miracle Moment. Then they found themselves wandering around the desert and forgot about it while Moses was on the mountain getting the Ten Commandments zapped onto the tablets. Great special effects. Anyway, the crowd turns ugly and wants out of the desert. Apparently the God who parted water doesn’t do miracles in parched, barren land, so they demand a new one…a golden calf. There’s a point coming. Stand-by. For a number of years now, I’ve forgotten my “Miracle Moment”. But I haven’t been like the ugly crowd demanding a new god, I’ve been the golden calf-which you might remember-strongly resembled a bull. I can be plenty bull headed. I’ve been playing god. I’ve struck bargains with God that he can take care of big things, like the Middle East or finding better Presidential candidates. I’ll take care of my marriage, my children, my life and when things didn’t turn out the way I wanted or planned-devastation.

We have suffered parenting problems, marriage issues and family crises that I would not wish on my worst enemy. Yet instead of turning to the God who gave me Danny, I have turned to ME. And what a horrible job I have done. The best part(or the worst)is the more that things spun out of control, the tighter I held on.

There’s a story of tribe that traps monkeys by putting a banana in a cage with a small hole. The monkey smells the banana, reaches in and grabs it. He is caught when he tries to pull his hand out and can’t because the opening is not big enough for his clenched fist. He squeals and jumps up and down and makes all kinds of noise, which alerts the hunters. Of course it is a sad end for the monkey. But he could have been free all along if he would have given up what he was holding on so tightly to. That is me. I too can be free if I would only stop holding on so tightly.

Again, there’s that common denominator rearing it’s ugly head…ME! Thankfully, as luck would have it, it is Friday May 13, 2016. A perfect time to hit my knees and stop trying on my own. God doesn’t need my help. I need His. I need to get out of his way and let Him have His way. After all, look what happened the last time. Didn’t end up so bad for me. Have you seen my husband??

Jeremiah 29:11New International Version (NIV)

11 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.