Resolutions or Revolutions

Why do people make New Year Resolutions? For me, resolutions are a waste of time and energy because I know good and well that I will keep them for only a day or two--a week max. Here is what I mean.

I resolve to exercise for 30 minutes every day  thee times a week. The easiest way for me to do that is walk down my road and back. But, what if it is pouring rain? Which it does quite often in the winter. I will wait until later in the day. When later in the day finally rolls around and the rain has diminished to sprinkles, it is getting too dark to safely walk down a country road. I will walk tomorrow, maybe.

I resolve to eat healthier meals. The homemade soups are great, as are omelets, baked chicken, broiled fish, salads, roasted vegetables, and fresh fruit. I watch them all go down the hatch. After a week, I don't want to spend time preparing the food for each meal. It is so much easier to fix a big batch of spaghetti and eat on it all week. A peanut butter and honey sandwich takes very little time compared to a chef's salad. Chopping up peppers, onions, and tomatoes, and grating cheese for an omelet takes forever, but a pot of oatmeal cooks itself.

Get the idea? I'm lazy and undisciplined.

What I need is not New Year's Resolutions, but New Year's Revolutions. When I reach the point of revolting against my old ways, something will happen. Revolt comes from the heart. It comes when I know change is absolutely essential for my well-being. It comes when Holy Spirit whispers to my inner-most parts, "Jan, you are in disrepair. You need some serious work. Quit listening to the enemy's 'later'. Now, now is the time," and I believe him to the point of revolting against the one who tells me lies.

Good intentions won't accomplish anything, at least not in my case. I tend to see them in the same light as resolutions--nice ideas. But a revolution means a fight is on. It means going against the way things are and bringing in the way they should be according to God's will. It means a fire has started within me.

A revolt is brewing, but a date on a calendar can't be the determining factor. It must be determined by an unwavering desire to fight the battle to bring about the change--whenever that desire comes. And it will come. It might be January 1, 2014 or March 21, 2015, or... In the meantime, there is guilt to be dealt with, and sugar and rain.

So, as the new year rolls in, out with the resolutions, and in with the revolutions.

I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me,

Jan and Licorice (who tried bringing her mouse-burger inside yesterday. I sent them both packing.)

Out of Sight

HELP!! Take them all away before I eat so many I make myself sick--wasabi and soy sauce almonds that is. I eat only one or two at a time, but over the course of a couple hours, that is a lot of almonds. By my estimation, 350 calories worth. I guess that's my lunch today.

Then there is the box of chocolate-mint cookies, and the peanut brittle, and the peanut butter fudge, and the licorice Altoids, and the boxes of microwave popcorn. Oh, so many temptations not to yield to. I can do this. I know I am stronger than sugar and salt and butter. I can do this.

There. The cookies are in their box on the far side of the living room. The peanut butter fudge is in the freezer. The almonds are in the bedroom, and the popcorn boxes are put away in the utility room. The peanut brittle is in an airtight container in the kitchen. There is nothing on my table except a laser pointer for the cat and my laptop/mouse.

An old idiom proclaims, "Out of sight, out of mind," but I declare, "Out of sight, the more exercise I get fetching it." Maybe the calories burned while fetching equal the calories consumed while eating the fetched items, especially if I run, hop, skip or jump to the hidden treasures. (note to self--apply for a multi-million dollar grant to study this. Add a gym membership to the total)

With junk food stashed, but not out of mind, I'm considering putting away Christmas decorations while I listen to the Seattle Seahawk's game. That should keep my mind busy for awhile. Then, at half-time, I will race to the freezer to see if peanut butter fudge is as good frozen as it is at room temperature.

So, my friends, as 2013 is almost used up, be blessed, be safe, and be filled with joy.

Jan (who wants an almond with her tea) and Licorice Kitty (who went out for a fast-food lunch: mouse burger and grass blades)

Do You Hear What I Hear?

I'm not sure who in the world let Licorice out in the first place. It wasn't me. I never let her out until after everyone living on my road has headed off to work. I do know who let her in--my daughter-in-law.  Being the helpful gal she is, opening the door to the black world outside and allowing a black cat into the dimly lit living-room was what she does--help however she can.

Our relaxing morning of coffee, Christmas music, tree lights, and conversation abruptly changed as her questioning shriek filled the air, "Does Licorice have a mouse in her mouth?" Yes, Licorice had a mouse in her mouth, and was very proud of it.  Santa Kitty had brought me an early Christmas present. Actually, it wasn't just for me. It was for my company as well.

 Over the next couple minutes Kitty moved her rodent from under the Christmas tree to behind the couch and back again--occasionally dropping the lifeless mouse and batting it around a little--meowing the entire time.

We, all five of us, tried to ignore her. We did a pretty good job of it too until my grandson suddenly cringed. "Do you guys hear what I hear--a crunching sound?"

We all listened. "Gross!" It definitely was a crunching sound we heard. Licorice's breakfast was under way. I immediately increased the volume of the music. Mannheim Steamroller never sounded so good.

Amazingly, Licorice consumed the entire mouse without leaving a trace of the evidence.

The next day, when a granddaughter-in-law asked if she could let Licorice in, we all jokingly responded, "check for a mouse first." She laughed as she looked out the door. "Oh no! The mouse is huge!" It was the biggest mouse any of us had ever seen. After each of us praised Licorice for her hunting prowess and generosity, she posed for several photographs, then disappeared from the porch only to reappeared seconds later, sans mouse, ready to come in.

Christmas is a wonderful time to build memories. These pre-Christmas mouse encounters will definitely do that.  Next year when Do You Hear What I Hear is played, I will automatically say, "I hear crunch, crunch." I will sing, "Jingle bells. Crunch, crunch, crunch. Jingle bells. Crunch, crunch, crunch." And when my Mannheim Steamroller Christmas CD is playing I will turn up the volume--the louder, the better.

Santa Kitty's present was definitely the most  unusual gift I have ever gotten.

The best gift came wrapped in swaddling cloths and lying in a manger.

Getting ready for a new year,

Jan and Licorice the Hunter

No Need to Stress Out

Make this quick. That is what I am telling myself as I start writing. It is 8:30 am. I have to be at the school to help in my daughter's classroom (she's the teacher, not the student) by noon. That means that I have from now until 11:30, and from 3:00 pm until 4:00 pm, when I head out for basketball game,  to get my kitchen cleaned and living room back in order.

The tree is up. Hooray, but not decorated. That is why assorted containers clutter the place. They are all neatly packed with decorating stuff.

The nativity scene rests on the window seat my the fireplace, and my my little lighted village spreads across a buffet. Neither will be lighted until I find my extension cords. Where, oh where are they? probably in the same tub most of the Christmas tree lights are in--a tub that is behind and under everything else in the storage room.

The Christmas stockings are hung by the chimney with care, in hopes that...

And, my usual bric-a-brac still decorates many of the flat surfaces in the room. Those have to be replaced by candles, shiny balls, Christmas this, and Christmas that. Once all that is done, I just have to vacuum, fix my hair, change my clothes and dash away, dash away, off to the school. On Dasher, on Dancer, on Prancer and Vixen...

What about tomorrow? I don't know. That was supposed to be the day I put the finishing touches on everything, but that is up in the air now. I just found out my husband is being transferred to another prison. The prison system doesn't let the exact day of transfer be known, even to the offender. If I wait until Monday to visit, he may be gone already. I feel like I have to go tomorrow, but he may already be gone by then. I'll just have to wait and call tomorrow. They should tell me if he is still there.

It is good that he is transferring out because it means he will now be in a treatment program. The bad part is having to leave his prayer partners, a cell-mate he likes, a job he enjoys, and a Bible study group and Sunday service that are really ministering to him.

In the midst of all these changes, one this is certain, God in on patrol and in control. He knows what he is doing. I will complete what I can complete today instead of stewing about tomorrow. The details aren't mine to know. One moment at a time is what I must do, and let God work on the rest.

What a silly statement that last one was, "Let God work on the rest." He has worked on everything already. It is ready to go.

So, Lord, it is now 9:00 am. A busy few days face me, but you have everything planned out the way you want them. Please don't let me complicate things. I just want to enjoy all the company that is coming for the weekend. I want to enjoy our progressive dinner and gift exchanges. I want to enjoy the laughter and games (card as well as basketball). I want to celebrate the birth of your son.

Come, Lord Jesus. Come, family. Come peace and joy.

Jan and Licorice (she's sleeping on the card table where I dropped my coat after the band concert last night)

Magnify the Lord

All during this past week, a song we had sung last Sunday kept coming to mind. The song contained the words, my soul, my soul magnifies the Lord. Magnify. What does that really mean, I wondered. I knew it meant to praise, but I kept picturing myself with a magnifying glass trained on God. So, I finally looked it up in my handy-dandy concordance. Maybe the Greek word would bring some clarity. Well, magnify has the same meanings in Greek as it does in English: to glorify, praise, exalt, regard highly, and enlarge.

Today, we again sang the same song. Afterwards, our worship leader shared a few thoughts she had had during the past week--thoughts about magnifying the Lord, which were similar to the ones I had had. To paraphrase her, "When we praise and exalt God, it is like holding up a magnifying glass to Him, bringing Him closer, and enabling us to see Him better."

As I contemplated our worship leader's thoughts, then mingled them with mine, this is what I got.

When trials and troubles, cares and concerns start closing in, we have two choices in dealing with the situations. On one hand, we can listen to the advice of the world that comes from friends, media, or our own limited understanding. By doing this, we are picking up the telescope of the world to search for answers, maybe even hoping to find God. But, no matter how we use the scope, it is backwards. All the solutions and answers seem small and so, so far away. That includes God. When He is seen through the world-scope, He looks like a mere, almost invisible speck on a distant horizon. Thankfully, if we search hard enough, we will be able to distinguish Him from everything and everyone else. He is the one on the cross.

Once we realize that God is really out there, our second choice comes into play. Just put down the world-scope and seek something that gives us a better, clearer, more accurate view. The mere act of acknowledging God's presence, no matter how small He seems, is a huge step that will provide Holy Spirit with raw materials that speak to our souls. He will also give us a heaven-scope to replace the one we put down. The new one magnifies two different ways.

Here is how it works. Once our souls begin to magnify (praise) God for who he is: Creator, Redeemer, and the One Who Walks Beside, to name just a few, the Holy Spirit begins to magnify (enlarge) the Lord in our understanding and vision. We begin seeing him not as a far away, almost invisible someone who can't possibly help us in any way: but instead, as a close, powerful, loving, father who wants only the best for us. The Lord becomes so much bigger than our problems that we realize our problems are actually quite small and manageable with God's help.

The more we see of God, the more we praise, the more we see...

There are no human words to express the greatness of God, the vastness, the hugeness (if there is such a word).  I take that back. There are words, words like Omnipotent, Omnipresent,and Omniscient. All Powerful, Always and Everywhere Present, and All Knowing might describe God, but our little, finite minds do not have the ability to comprehend his greatness. God has become too big to wrap our minds around. That is what makes Him God.

That is also why he sent his Son, in human form, to earth. God needed a way to express and show us his love--his love, both dying and undying--a love we can understand in a small way.

My soul, my soul magnifies the Lord. In return, may He be magnified (enlarged) beyond my wildness comprehension.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

My writing may be somewhat limited this week as I prepare for my part of our traditional, family progressive Christmas celebration the Saturday-Sunday before Christmas. Eighteen of us will celebrate with all we have,.

In the meantime, may the Lord be both praised and enlarged in your life this Christmas season,

Jan and Licorice Kitty (Today, for the first time in three months, I let Licorice Kitty outside for a few minutes . She smelled everything around the porches and back of the garage, then came running when I called her. Good Kitty)

Preparing to Prepare for Christmas

After I took Licorice to the vet's this morning, I went to a local big-box store for litter and a special kitty treat. While there, I spent quite a while looking around at all the Christmas paraphernalia in stock. Unbelievable. I checked out glittery this and sparkly that for the tree, velvet stockings and tapestry ones, candy canes for inside decor and out, and Duck Dynasty everything. I left the store with what a came for, as well as a spinning head. I think I will stick with the decoration I have and love. They may be old, but they have a story to tell me whenever I put them up.

For right now, everything Christmas is still stored in a few plastic bins in the storage room. I'll get them out Saturday to begin preparing for all the family Christmas fun. The first items I want to bring out are the Christmas mugs. Enjoying a cup of coffee or hot tea from them over the next weeks will be nice.

Next will be the "glass/ceramic/breakable" nativity scene. It consists of three lighted buildings, two groups of trees (one with a broken top), a cow, a few sheep, a group of camels, a shepherd, some wise men, and of course, Mary, Joseph, and Jesus. I'm not sure where I will put it this year. I change it all the time.

The tree will go up somewhere in the living room. Swags decorating the fireplace mantle and doorway to the dining room will add a festive feeling. Three bedrooms will be readied for company. In the back of my mind I have cinnamon rolls baking. We'll see if that happens or stays as an enticing thought. That is what I am planning over the next week.

What planning and preparation did God go through for that first Christmas? There were so many things to do before hand. There had to be a common language in which to spread the good news. There had to be roads to travel on. There had to be a hunger for God. A prophet must be readied. A family had to be prepared to rear the Christ child. Then there had to be a way to get them to Bethlehem. So much to do.

Finally, the time was fully right. Greek was the universal language. Roman roads criss-crossed the Middle East and southern Europe, His people were oppressed and longing for the Messiah's arrival. John the Baptist was born, Mary was amazed and humbled by the angel's pronouncement of a child yet to be conceived. Joseph had dreams. .A census was declared. All was finally ready.

Oh yes, one more thing. The birth announcement was ready too--angels ready to light up the night sky and make a declaration. One said, "...Today in the town of David a Savior has been born; he is Christ the Lord..." A company of the heavenly host appeared and said, "Glory to God in the Highest, and on earth peace to men on whom his favor rests."  Luke 2:11, 13

Preparing myself to prepare for Christmas,

Jan and Licorice Kitty

She Was Quite The Lady

White table cloths, blue, construction paper place mats, clear glass vases filled with evergreens and red balls,  and plastic-ware wrapped with red ribbon decorated the tables in the elementary school multipurpose room. Christmas music filled the air while grandparents from the community filed in and waited expectantly for the soon-to-be-meal and music program.

I hadn't been seated very long before a cute high-school student (my granddaughter) asked me if I'd like a cup of coffee. Of course I did. While she went to fetch the coffee, a couple white-haired ladies joined me. (Their hair was whiter than mine) Seated next to me was "Lorna" who, at eighty-five years of age, recently retired as director of the Senior Center as well as from her chaplaincy position with the fire department. "I just can't get up at 1:00 am to help out with fire emergencies any more," she told me.

She hasn't missed a city council meeting in fourteen years, has organized the placement of Holiday Food Bank Donation boxes in almost every business in the area for "who know how long," and loves the drums, guitars, and vocals of the worship team at her church.

She belongs to a well-known social organization that she no longer participates in because, "They don't do anything to help anyone. They make me mad. I have too much to do. I can't waste my time visiting over a social luncheon."

And she loved kids. That was why she was at the Grandparents Christmas Luncheon. She thoroughly enjoyed the sparkly dresses and shiny shoes, the jackets and ties, the tee shirts, hoodies, and pairs of well-worn jeans, as well as the dirty sneakers. She lovingly pointed out the shyest tot and the most exuberant vocalist. She didn't miss anything, and didn't want me to either. Whether the child was a wiggly, giggly kindergartner or an arms-crossed-I-don't-want-to-be-here fourth grader, each brought a grin to her face. The entire two hours were pure joy to her.

For me, I always love the school programs, but during today's lunch I let "Lorna's" story with all its enthusiasm, energy, and servant's heart bring me shame instead of joy. But as she talked I slowly realized that I would have no idea how to do what she has done for years. I don't know the people she does, have her contacts, or her organizational skills. She is using her God-given talents to the fullest. "Lorna" is being the best "Lorna" she can be. I'm sure God is well pleased.

So, instead of feeling bad about not being like her, my main question became, am I being the best Jan I can be? My honest answer is, not yet, but I'm working on it.

I praise the Lord for people like Lorna. What an example and inspiration she was to me. I don't think our sitting at the same table was coincidental. The Lord was definitely in our encounter, and, for me, it truly was joyful--tis the season.

Thank you, Lord, for today's luncheon and "Lorna". She was quite the lady.

Jan and Licorice (who is sitting on my lap purring)

He Calls, and Calls, and Calls

Guess what sounds wonderful around now, curling up in my warm bed for a little nap. I'm so tired this morning. It is the cat's fault. Since Licorice Kitty spent a restless night searching for her kittens, I spent a restless night also. She would sleep at the foot of my bed for an hour or so, then jump down and start roaming throughout the house mewing, yowling, and crying, but still not getting any response. Then she would return, mew at me, curl up and sleep another hour before searching again. Even this morning, she is still searching and sniffing everywhere the kittens had been. From the top of the kitchen bar to the nether regions under the couch, she has explored. Still no luck.

I have explained the situation to her, but she just doesn't understand why her kids are going to new homes. She tells me they must be hiding around here somewhere.  I will say this, though, she has been very affectionate since we got home yesterday. When she isn't searching, she is either sleeping beside my laptop while I type, or sitting beside me wanting to be petted. I was even surprised when she jumped on my bed last night. In the three months she has been inside, she has never done that.

This new experience has given me more awe of God's creation than I had before. The maternal instinct Licorice Kitty exhibits brought me to tears again today--not like yesterday's torrent, but tears are tears no matter how many there are.

If a mere cat can experience such loss that her searching and calling is now approaching twenty-four hours, what must God go through when seeking his lost ones. Unlike Licorice Kitty, God knows where we all are, but he continually calls for His lost to return to him.

Within a week, Licorice should forget her "lost" kittens. At least that is what the vet said. That will be good for both of us. But God never forgets his lost kids. Holy Spirit will call, and call, and call until we are no longer have breath to answer Him.

And best of all, He calls us by name.

Isaiah 43:1-2
But now, thus says the LORD, who created you, O Jacob, And he who formed you, O Israel: "Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by your name; You are mine.*

Thank you, Lord.

Jan and sleeping Licorice Kitty

I Said I Would't Cry

Since eight o'clock this morning, I've been telling myself that I am not going to cry. That is what I said when I tucked my four kittens and Licorice Kitty into the pet carrier for an hour-long, snowy trip to the vet's. That is what I told myself every time they meowed from the back seat. That's what I told myself when each kitten got a clean bill of health, a shot, and then put into a different carrier (they will soon have new homes). That's what I told myself every time Licorice started meowing during the drive home.

So, now we are home and the tears won't stop--mine or Licorice's. For the past hour she has gone from room to room calling for kittens that don't come. She has spent long minutes staring out every window possible--no kittens anywhere. She is now calling from the back of the sofa, and still getting no mews or scampers from her little ones.

It is so sad listening to the change in Licorice's cries. They are no longer purring-mewing cries of a mother checking on the babes. They are now a mournful yowl that makes my heart break and my tears flow faster. I haven't cried like this for over a year.

We'll get over it. We'll forget the sorrow and pain. I don't know about cats, but I will always remember the joy those kittens brought. Today was a perfect example of a comment my pastor made yesterday. "Joy and pain are two rails of the same track called life."

With that, I'll sign off, blow my nose, wipe the tears off my cheeks, and try do get some work done. Licorice has finally gone to sleep.

May we all experience Christ's joy in spite of our pain.

Jan and Licorice, who's getting spayed in a couple days.

Winter Looks Like...

What does winter look like? It looks exactly like my backyard .

Long uncut grass pokes its blades through the skiff of pure snow.
Curled, brown, dried leaves also poke through--beautifully decorated with frost.
A few lonely leaves still cling to the hazelnut tree.
They dare an icy wind to blow them off--a wind yet un-felt.
Tree branches reach in all directions searching for relief from their cold, snowy blanket.
But the sun brings no warmth.
There is only cold, peaceful, silent death.

Winter may look like death, but isn't.

It's nature's rest from busyness,
silence from a noisy world,
and strengthening for spring.

It's my warm evening fires,
mugs of hot cocoa,
and good books.

It's Christmas time
With Hark the Herald Angels Sing,
And the Christ child's birth.

That is what winter looks like.

Enjoying all of it,
Jan

What is This?

What is this? That is the question I am asking myself this morning as I survey my surroundings. What is this?

What is this pile of towels heaped on the floor?  I had them folded last night.

What are these bits of shredded paper and miscellaneous toy parts doing in my living room?

What are all these scratches on my arms and legs?

What is that stinky, dark pile of something by the door?

What is that mewing sound ringing in my ears whenever I open the refrigerator door?

What is this headache?

KITTENS!!!

Fluff-ball, Ossie, Target, and Bibbs, four bundles of energy when awake, and one pile of cuteness when sleeping, need to find homes, but they can't because they don't have phones. (Sorry, I couldn't resist that take-off of a TV ad). Anyway, I left a phone message with HAVA  (a no-kill animal rescue center), and now wait for a returned phone call saying, "Yes, of course we can take your kittens."

"Would you take Licorice Kitty, too?" would be one of my questions. She is a very nice cat; however, until she has been spayed and is able to go outside again, I can't leave home for any period of time. If only she could change her own litter box.

What is this? is what I am also asking about the cornucopias, dried Indian corn, fall leaves, and amber candles scattered all over my dining room table. Thanksgiving decorations, obviously, but why are they still sort of placed on my table? My fault. I thought they would be safe up there until I put them away sometime with week. WRONG!

How did the kittens get on top of a dining room table? was the first question that entered my mind the other morning. They demonstrated later in the day. First, they tried all the wooden chairs, but got no further than the seats. Then, "Hey guys, over here--a climbing-material thingy!" The cry went out, and all four kittens jumped from the floor to grab the seat of the padded desk chair (not put away from Thanksgiving dinner). Then they pulled themselves onto the seat, climbed up the back of the chair, and jumped onto the table. What fun awaited them--until I intervened.

How do kittens get on top of the kitchen-island counter? The same way they get onto the table--climbing-material thingies--also known as bar stools. It is a long jump from the floor to the bottom of the stools. But, with enough tries and endless determination, the impossible becomes possible, and Mt. Everest of the Kitchen is conquered.

"Looky at what we did, Feeder-Petter-Person-With-Climbable-Legs. Aren't we smart, and cute, and athletic, and ..."

"Nope, not anymore. Get off the counter!"

What is this? This is another growth experience for me. As I have been watching the interactions of my cat family this morning, I am once again feeling the pain of separation. A few hours ago, Licorice was sleeping somewhere in the area. Three kittens were sleeping on the towels I had moved from the floor to the couch, and Target was playing with his shadow on the living room floor. All of a sudden, Target started mewing, quite loudly, I might add, for no apparent reason. In a matter of seconds, Licorice came running from the dining room, greeted Target, and started licking his face. The sibs on the couch woke up and jumped down to join the wonderful kitten-washing time. Within minutes, all were cleaned up and stretched out on the rug for a nap-time with Mom. Target was no longer by himself.

As I write this, Mom and kittens are having another nap-time, this time called my Licorice herself. Three kittens had been sleeping on a padded chair at a folding table (still up from Thanksgiving). Fluff-ball was sleeping somewhere unknown to me. Into the quiet room came Licorice, just up from her nap on a dining room chair. I heard her coming before I saw her. She entered the room calling for her kittens. The three on the chair immediately jumped down, but Fluff-ball didn't come from anywhere. While the three chair-sleepers clammored for their mother's attention, Licorice headed directly toward a sofa, looked under it and meowed, then meowed again. Finally, out from under a sofa, came Fluff-ball. She stretched, yawned, mewed, and licked her mom's face. Licorice had her family all together again.

Now they sleep--a contented pile of cats.

If kittens can feel all alone, I think Target had. If mother cats can wonder where their kittens are and what they are doing, I think Licorice had. Separating Licorice from her kittens will be difficult for me, but has to be done. I have to remind myself that I can't put human emotions into animals, and cat families don't usually live as one big happy group forever.

I know that time is fast approaching as I observe Licorice separating herself from the kittens. She stays with them for  only short periods of time, then leaves them alone to sleep, play, fight, and attack my feet. She still occasionally plays with them, but is getting much rougher. She yowls and bats at them if they insist on playing with her tail while she oversees their antics. I think she is preparing for the inevitable separation by getting the kittens ready to survive without her. That is the way God created his creatures.

Separation and pain. I don't like either, but am beginning to feel both once more. I told myself quite awhile ago that I would never again have a pet, even though my kids and my therapist suggested I do so. I went through separation and pain when I had to have my dachshund put down. I didn't want to do that again. But that pain was nothing compared to the pain when my husband confessed to child molestation and went to prison.

So, those many years ago, I closed myself off, locked the doors, and told myself that I wouldn't love anything again. I wanted nothing in my life that would be taken from me.  So what do I do? I take in a stray cat, pregnant at that. I felt this might be a God thing, and still do. That is why I asked the question, what is this. What am I to learn?

I can love, even when I tell myself I won't.
Loss is part of life.
Separation isn't easy, but often necessary.

In the midst of all the questions in this post, I know one thing for certain: God answers prayers, often the way we want. The lady from HAVA just called. They will take the kittens. Within the hour, I am to call the vet that HAVA works with, make an appointment to bring in Licorice and kittens. Licorice will be checked for leukemia, and the kittens will get a wellness check. I can then leave the kittens for HAVA to pick up, and make arrangements to have Licorice spayed.

Thank you, Lord.

Oh yes, what about this headache? It wasn't the kittens after all. It was caffeine withdrawal. A cup of strong coffee with mint creamer worked wonders.

Giving thanks in all things, including kitten messes, leftover Thanksgiving disarray, and coffee,
Jan

Children, God's Gift

I wish I remembered dates, but I don't. The date doesn't really matter in this story, but I think it was 1970. My youngest child was just an infant at the time. That would make my number one child around five-years-old. He is the one this story is about--a story of grace and answered prayers.

My cute little guy's blue eyes and impish smile melted everyone's hearts. What a natural charmer he was. But a time of concern came upon my husband and me when we noticed that our son kept playing with a spot on his cheek, pinching and poking at the same place throughout the day. When we finally checked out what he was doing, we discovered he had a BB sized lump under the skin.

What were we dealing with?

A local specialist thought it was something that would get smaller and go away--an infection maybe. But, we were to keep an eye on it. So we did. Instead of disappearing, the lump got larger. The doctor now felt we were dealing with a tumor. He then explained that because children's tumors grow quite rapidly, he was concerned about the supposed tumor's close proximity of the brain.

Surgery now stared us in the face--so did another problem. The tumor could involve the nerve to the corner of the mouth. If that were the case, our son could lose his ability to smile. He would probably also drool; however, the doctor assured us he would operate as if our son were his own son. But he could make no promises about the outcome.

The first couple days, everything was scary. We were concerned about the surgery itself as well as possible hardships our son could face. I had a second concern. It was for the baby I was nursing at the time. Would stress cause problems for me or the baby?  All these worries were short lived because this was where prayer entered the picture.

While we waited the arrival of our surgery, our friends and church family prayed for us. As a result, God answered.  Personally, he met me in an unusual way (at least I thought it was unusual). Instead of worrying about all the "bad" things that could happen, I began to understand that our son, a God-given gift, was ours to love, care for, and instruct--for a season. How long would that be? I had no idea. But that mind set brought me peace of mind, and not fear.

During the waiting game, I watched with awe as not only our son (the patient) but also our two-year-old daughter experienced each new day with joy, curiosity, and discovery. During those days, the Lord opened my eyes to what a gift these children really were. He also opened my eyes to his faithfulness. This came as I watched my infant son eagerly take in his surroundings as he nursed.

Thank you, Lord, for answered prayers.

The night before surgery, our friends didn't sleep very well. They awoke quite often and prayed for us, for our son, and for the doctor. Both my husband and I slept soundly the entire night. That was another answer to prayers.

Surgery day--all went well. The tumor wasn't a tumor after all. It was a lymph node infected with tuberculosis! Talk about weird. First off, there shouldn't have been a lymph node in the middle of the cheek. Secondly, we didn't use raw milk, the usual source of TB in children.

The TB mystery went unsolved. The family took anti-tuberculin drugs for a year. And, as forty-three blessing-filled years have passed, I still view my adult children as I did when they were small: gifts God has given me for a season.

I continue thanking the Lord for long-ago trials that showed me the gift of children.

Jan