An Open Letter To All the Terrorists In My Cell Phone Contact List

An Open Letter To All the Terrorists In My Cell Phone Contact List,

I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I think they're on to you. Luckily a UK Newspaper alerted us before our big plans were foiled. I would have expected a news organization on this side of the pond to be all over news like this - but for whatever reason they just didn't 'see' it. Regardless...

I felt pretty sure the Government would never suspect a thing. I mean, living in a 1-light town, raising my kid on our safe little street, doing my work-a-day job and minding my own business; how in the world would they think to get up in my phone records?! But they did. They have deemed the grab of my - and millions of other American's - phone records as necessary to fight the war on terror. A war the government says is all but over.

The National Security Administration tells me not to worry. There is nothing improper going on here. Eric Holder and the Department of Justice says they're not using my records for anything - they just have them and will continue to have them for my own safety. He'll "look in to it", says Mr. Holder. Why should I doubt him? So don't you worry about anything, my Al-Qaeda terror cell contacts. Just don't call me for a few weeks! 

However, I do have cause to worry. By now they have probably uncovered our plans for my massive yard sale. That was supposed to be a secret! You know I was going to try and pull that off without a permit - under the guise of "I didn't know you needed one". But now they're surely on to me. I'll likely face heavy fines, be threatened by "the man" to shut down my operation or risk jail time. The IRS will come and tax me on the income we receive from selling Matthew's toys and some household trinkets. I cringe at the thoughts. They know I pray to Jesus. Because I receive the "One-Call" from church, they know I'm a Southern Baptist. They know that I ordered a copy of George Orwell's 1984. They know I voted for Romney. These things, in the face of our only-tolerant-when-it-suits-them-government, may very well be held against me - despite being the land of the 'free'.

Surely they'll use these things they've gleaned from my phone records to not only persecute me and my desire and RIGHT to freedom, but to track down terrorists the world over. So be mindful if you dial my Verizon-owned phone number - you are being tracked by the government. Yes, you might just be planning a Sunday School outing - but you also might be planning to fill up book bags with pressure cookers and blow up a gang of school children in the name of Ala. Who's to say? You? The Government? Our government has proven that it doesn't really matter what you say - it's what they think. So good luck with that. 

Also be aware that they know - just by the phone numbers I dial - that I am a conservative, Jesus-Loving, Gun Appreciating, Southern-born, America-Defending, born-free white woman who's not a great big fan of this over-reaching, socialist wanting government. So you, by calling me on the phone would likely be considered 'guilty by association'.

The bottom line is this, I just can't provide you any expectation of privacy if you call me again. You might try to text. Oh, wait. No. Don't text - try to email. Oh, wait. Department of Justice subpoenas email accounts also. Hey, try Facbook - no. Wait. I'm sure there's cyber-crime bots scanning our every word for 'triggers' or things that might cause them alarm. If you don't want the government to be on your trail, just don't contact me - or anyone else - at all. It's just not safe. You might try to wave if you drive by - just do be too obvious.

This will be my last contact with you, my cell phone crime ring. Surely before I walk away from this computer (plugged into the internet and likely tapped by Big Brother) they are likely to turn up the heat. I won't go down without a fight!! (Unless they try to deprive me of pasta or sugar - then I'm apt to see like a hungry bird!)

God Bless America - MY home sweet home. (For now anyway!)

IT'S WE THE PEOPLE - NOT YOU THE GOVERNMENT

From President Obama's speech yesterday:

"Journalists should not be at legal risk for doing their jobs.  Our focus must be on those who break the law.  I have raised these issues with the attorney general, who shares my concern.  So he has agreed to review existing DOJ guidelines governing investigations that involve reporters, and will convene a group of media organizations to hear their concerns as part of that review.  And I have directed the attorney general to report back to me by July 12th."

Our president must think we're all stupid.  The Attorney General (Eric Holder) is the one who signed the paper full of accusations and inflammatory nonsense that accused a man of being a SPY and putting National Security at risk, asking the judge to for-go the usual process in order to have access to the Fox Reporter's records.

When he investigates himself and then reports back to the president - what is he going to say?  Do you think for a minute he'll say - "Geez Mr. President, Barry, my old buddy, I was wrong and I committed a crime".  Nope.  Not very likely.  He can't say "I didn't know about that" (like he did with the AP Phone Records Grab) because he himself SIGNED the paper.  If the president does not demand a CRIMINAL INVESTIGATION (at the least the resignation of) his old pal Eric Holder then I contend the "REAL" conspiracy is not the Fox News Reporter but this whole administration.

First was the Benghazi cover up.  So as not to hurt his chances in the election, Obama not only downplayed the obvious act of terrorism, he outright lied when he said the attack was the result of some stupid You Tube Video.  Why would he do that?  Because he was in the middle of a campaign - a CLOSE campaign - saying that because "he" got rid of Bin Laden that we're all safer from terrorism and Al-Qaeda is all but gone.  He said that exact same thing to a group of people on a campaign stop in Las Vegas the very next day after Al-Qaeda supporters stormed our Embassy, killed our ambassador to Libya - and paraded his dead body around long enough for pictures to be taken of him slung over a man's shoulder.

4 Americans died as someone from our Government gave orders to stand down.  Then the State Department - Hilary Clinton and her pawns - LIED, LIED, LIED so much so they changed the talking points for the Obama Administration's mouth piece to go in front of the national media and LIE to the American People and BLAME AN AMERICAN FOR MAKING AN UGLY VIDEO ABOUT MUHAMMAD.  By the way... we all now no that it had nothing to do with any video protest - but the video maker is STILL IN JAIL.  Thank you Government!  May I have another?!  And Victoria Newland - the highest person (so far) who most likely changed the talking points - instead of being fired - is getting a promotion.  Assistant Secretary of State.  That is not even logical.

Then the IRS targeting right-leaning groups, dare I say HARASSING groups with words like "Tea Party" or "patriot" in their names.  Even auditing religious organizations like The Billy Graham Evangelical Association and Samaritan's Purse according to Franklin Graham himself.  Why?  So as not to hurt his chances in the election, this department under his watch - intimidated, targeted, harassed, asking for donor information and THEN targeting the donors and their companies, slowing up their process, costing them money for legal fees to fight off accusations and protect their organizations and businesses.  This was done in hopes that these "Anybody But Obama Supporters" would be silenced and just go away.  Unfortunately, it worked for some.  Fortunately many of them have come forward, shining a light on this BLATANT wielding of Government Power influencing the election.

And now this same department - the IRS - will be in charge of the Nation's Healthcare Program.  I sure hope they don't decide who gets treatment (instead of say, tax exempt status) based on who they voted for.

Then this trampling of the 1st amendment right to the press and CRIMINAL MISCONDUCT of the Department of Justice.  What's that about?  So as not to hurt his chances in the election, the Associated Press (the supposed 'standard' of the Press) was asked by this administration to hold off on running a story about a terror plot that was interrupted by our military.  And the AP obliged.  The government wanted to be the one to "announce this great terrorist take down - and dictate the information that got out there.  And the government grabbed the phone records of more than 100 phone lines and tried to find out how they were 'scooped'.

Once that got out - it was just a matter of time before others got out as well.  It was discovered that Fox News was a target of the Department of Justice, and one reporter in particular being labeled a criminal and a spy.  And there was grave threat to National Security in the case against the Fox reporter.  It was story about North Korea and it's idiot stick leader Kim Jung Un's reaction to sanctions.  He was mad.  Well, he's always mad.

So far not one meaningful person has been held accountable for any of these things.  THIS IS NUTS!  How can FREE AMERICA look the other way when even our election is marred in controversy?  When our freedoms and privacy is being infringed on by an power-drunk, too big, big brother government determined to keep us all under its rule.

We the People are NOT at the mercy of our US Government.  The Government works for us.  WE are/at least should be the BOSS.  Do not stand idly by and let this administration - or any administration - shred our Constitution and throw the pieces in our face.  Be heard.  Demand answers.  DEMAND THE TRUTH.  And DEMAND that those responsible (and the buck stops with Obama) be held accountable.

There is a "There there", Mr. President.  And we will find it.  And you will be held accountable.  Your legacy will be one filled with lies, crimes, over reaching, power hungry distain for this Great Nation of ours.  Good Luck with that.

She Sends Me Rainbows

It's been a little more than a year since my mom passed away.  392 1/2 days to be exact.  Not that I'm counting.  This year March roared in like a lion alright - it roared out also.  The anniversary of her passing came and I thought the day might kill me.  I didn't utter the first word about it.  I didn't need or want sympathy and I was trying very hard not to make some sort of shrine out of her death.  I certainly didn't want to acknowledge the single worst day of my life.  It's the days like that that I need my mom the most.  She would have called me to check in on me.  Just to make sure I was ok.  But I wasn't going to hear from her so I just put my head into my new work that day and got through it.

The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those crushed in spirit ~ Psalm 34:18

It's the nightfall that's so hard.  When I'm tired my mind starts to wander off to places I wish I could go.  Like home, or back to the 70's when everyone was alive and we were a family, or Heaven, to name just a few.  I climb into her sheets, on the bed that used to be hers, restless and worried.  I close my eyes and pray.  "Dear God, could you give my mom a kiss for me and make sure she's doing ok?  I know Heaven is nice - but I'm sure my mother misses me.  Maybe You can let her know when she can expect me so she doesn't have to worry?  Could you tell my family I said hello?  I miss them, Lord.  A girl needs her mom.  I know I shouldn't question you, God, but I don't understand Your schedule.  It doesn't make sense to take them all away.  Leaving my mom here with me for a little while longer would have been the logical thing.  Right?"

......By day the Lord commands his steadfast love, and at night his son is with me, a prayer to the God of my life.  ~ Psalm 42:5

I toss, I turn, I look at the clock.  I pull my extra pillow up under my chin and give it a little hug.  It's sort of strange, yes, but it comforts me in the darkness.  "Embrace me, Lord".  I continue to pray.  I'm scared and alone here.  Enclose me in the sleeves of Your billowing robe.  Surely I can find some peace in the layers of Your soft garments?  My God, hear my cries.  Bend down from Heaven and kiss the top of my head.  Calm me with Your loving voice.  Just like a mother runs to the aid of her child - awakened by something and crying in the night, come in and check on me.  I'm just like a scared child, Father.  And I need You to tell me everything's going to be ok.  Just stay here with me until  I fall asleep."  

.....He will have compassion according to the abundance of his steadfast love; for he does not willingly afflict of grieve the children of men.  ~ Lamentations 3:32

My dreams can haunt me.  Sometimes I have heard my mom's voice so clearly calling my name that I would get up out of bed and look for her.  But I'm always only dreaming.  And I always wake up.  Sometimes not only do I fall asleep sad and worried, but I wake up in the middle of the night still sad and more exhausted.  And I pray some more.  "Please God, I'm begging You.  Please just bring the peace.  I think if I could just stop dreaming, maybe I'll be ok.  Stay here with me just a little longer, Lord.  Rock me to peaceful slumber."  And finally the sleep comes, turning the night into daylight......


.....Weeping may stay for the night, but rejoicing comes in the morning. ~ Psalm 30:5

Morning finally comes.  Before the sun comes up I make my way into the kitchen to make my coffee.  I enjoy the smell of coffee brewing and I look forward to that first cup!  I can hear the birds singing right outside my back door.  There's a large bush right off the back step that seems to be home to a feathered family.  She sings so sweetly, waking up her babies for their breakfast.  I open the door and let my cat in.  He's always happy to see me, rubbing up against my leg and meowing at me a catful 'good morning'.  The air outside is crisp and fresh, just right.  It's peaceful and quiet.

My kitchen window faces east in just such a way that I can see the sun just as it starts to peek over the trees.  It sends orange shards of light shooting upward, bouncing on the pillowy clouds.  The sky is lighting afire in a reddish haze.  "My God, what an artist You are!", I pray.  Thank You for the sun, thank You for letting me wake up to see it!  It's a beautiful day and it reminds me of the hope I have.  I'm grateful for the daylight and grateful for God's mercy.  The warmth of the sun reminds me of my blessings, it reminds me that yes, Jesus loves me.  I'm not alone and there is purpose in my life.

I drink my coffee from my mom's cup and I think of mornings with her, drinking our coffee together and talking about the garden plans.  It makes me smile.  The sun creeps slowly upward, waking the yard with its light.  The little squirrels and the early birds break the motionless early morning and the dew glistens like diamonds spread over the grass.  My heart is happy - it's a beautiful day.  Thank you Lord, for the daylight.

On the day my mom died the skies over Charlotte filled with a massive rainbow.  It was such a thing of beauty someone's photograph of it even made the news.  I called it Mama's Rainbow - as far as I was concerned she sent that rainbow to let us know she made it home ok!  That night I went to her home to get some things I would need - her clothes for a funeral, important papers, etc.  And I grabbed a little sun catcher from her kitchen window.  Clearly it wasn't something I needed but I wanted it more than anything else in the whole house.  

When the sun came up that next morning the light shined through the little sun-catcher and sent the beams of color stretching along my kitchen and even down into the hall way.  The colorful lights were everywhere, filling up the rooms and rising up the walls with the sun.  It was my mom saying "Hi", I figured, and I walked around in the light.  

Then your light will break forth like the dawn, and your healing will quickly appear; then your righteousness will go before you, and the glory of the Lord will be your rear guard. ~ Isaiah 58:8

Not one day has the little window trinket failed to catch the sun.  And every morning when I see the little spots of color start to shine and creep up the walls I think of my mom.  She's basking in the light of the lamb, praising her Savior, beautiful and alive!  She thinks of me every morning and she sends me rainbows.  And until the night falls again I'm embraced in my mother's light and I'm at peace.

The Greatest Crime Ever Committed

If you're not my Facebook Friend ... you might not know that I've been writing some blog posts for a website called Crime In Charlotte .com.  Well, it's true.  Usually we write all about crime stories.  But today I got to write about the Crucifixion!   I hope it stays on the website - but if by chance it has to come down, I thought I'd post it here too!  Happy Easter!

It’s Easter Sunday.  It’s the unofficial start of spring and a day to show off your newest, pastel-colored church clothes.  From singing “Here Comes Peter Cottontail” and finding Easter Eggs to a Sunrise Service followed by a dinner of ham and potato salad with the family, there’s a little something for everyone on Easter.  For me, and millions of other Christians worldwide, it’s the day we celebrate the resurrection of the Lord Jesus Christ.

Because today is the day of Resurrection, while in church this morning, I couldn’t help but think about the crucifixion.  The act of crucifixion as a form of punishment was probably the most brutal of all methods of executions.  The ancient Romans were masters of the death tactic – and used anyone hanging on a cross as a lesson to anyone watching.  “Act right, or you’ll be next”.

Ever since Cain killed his brother Abel in a fit of jealous rage, there’s been crime and punishment in the world.  God was the judge.  He imparted His sentences fairly and without bias.  And usually as a result of a sentence served the offender learned a great lesson and was considered reformed.  Many an examples of this can be found throughout the pages of the Old Testament.  But eventually it seemed like crime had run amuck and by the time Mary gave birth to a baby boy in a manger – the world appeared to be in need of a savior.

I’m not here to preach to you or write up some kind of Bible study.  I want to talk about crime and punishment – back in the day.  I believe the greatest crime ever committed was the one that landed Jesus in the hands of the Roman executioners.  His punishment for the crime was purposely humiliating.  They shoved a crown made from thorns down on His head and paraded Him through the streets of a hateful crowd.  They spat on Him, laughed at Him and cursed Him.  They beat Him brutally, whipping Him until His flesh ripped open and was hanging from His body.  He was forced to drag His own cross up the hill to His ultimate punishment.  He was sentenced to a slow and agonizing death by nailing Him to a cross.  He hung there by the spikes driven through His hands and feet for 6 long hours, suffocating and bleeding to death before He finally died.

So what was this greatest crime?   What crime did Jesus commit?  None.  Not one.  He was falsely accused by the religious leaders.  He was betrayed by one of His best friends and taken into custody by the guards.  He was brought before a counsel and tried.  He was convicted of blasphemy for saying He was the Son of God.  He was then at the mercy of the Roman Governor for sentencing.  The governor couldn’t see that Jesus had done anything wrong but was swayed by the large and unruly crowd screaming for Jesus’ blood.  And just like that – Jesus’ fate was sealed and He died on a cross for a crime He didn’t commit.  The crime was the rush to judgment, the mockery and torture of an innocent man.  At least, and fortunately for us, the story doesn’t end there!

But let’s say Jesus was just a regular guy, going around minding his own business.  He was a nice guy and stayed out of trouble.  We worked for a living, had a few friends and loved his mom.  But living in that part of the world was hard back then.  Laws were very strict and punishment was severe.  No one was free to worship or live the way they wanted, taxes were high, crime was rampant and the government was a tyrant.  It didn’t take much for an innocent man to die at the hands of a corrupt government or some over-zealous guard.  And it didn’t really matter.  Mercifully, we’ve come a long way.

As this Holy Week is coming to an end, I find myself grateful for many things.  I’m mostly grateful for the hope that comes as a result of that crucifixion 2000 years ago.  But I’m also grateful for the many lessons we’ve learned as a result of the Easter story. 

There’s still crime – lots of crime.  And there’s punishment.  But the punishment fits the crime.  (In this country, at least!)  Since the time of Jesus, many innocent people have been punished – even executed – for crimes they had nothing to do with.  Unfortunately it happens.  But now-a-days it’s the result of mistakes or someone being at the wrong place at the wrong time.  Thankfully we now live in a society that values humanity and recognizes the importance of civility.  We aren’t snatched off the streets, accused, tried, convicted and punished without cause.  We have freedoms of speech and religion and we’re free to pursue happiness. 

And then in case we do happen to commit a crime, we’re handled gently and treated with respect.  We’re given ample opportunity to defend ourselves, tried fairly and given resources to reform.  And even in those cases where the death penalty is imposed, the government and the guards take great care to make the death row criminal as comfortable as possible.

And finally, there’s forgiveness.  We can forgive because we’re forgiven.

My point is this… stay out of trouble!  We don’t to have to write about you here on Crimes in Charlotte .com!  But if you ever do find yourself on the wrong end of the law, no matter your crime you can be thankful I’ll never have to write a story like this about you! 

Whatever your traditions are, I hope you’ve had a wonderful weekend.  Happy Easter from all of us at Crime In Charlotte .com!

The Mail Room Mission Field

A couple of years ago I was stubbornly unemployed for almost 9 months - 3/4ths of a year.  The economy was tanking and unemployment was higher than ever.  For every job I applied for - so did 300 other people.  I couldn't even get interviews or return calls.  It was when I was overlooked for a job at Pet Smart (Hello!!  Pet Smart?!) that I figured I was in trouble.  Because I had officially quit my last job ("Because I had to take care of my child" wasn't a good enough reason for the government) I was unable to draw any unemployment.  I lived off a little tax refund check, some monthly child support and whatever the Good Lord provided for 9 months.

It was hard.  It really was.  But looking back now I can't complain.  I spent my extra free time getting closer to God.  I depended on Him for everything and He provided for us at every turn.  It seems like we had everything we needed - and even some of the things we wanted!  I had the time to volunteer at the local food bank a few times and I got to go with my church on some of our little mission projects.  Matthew and I had the best summer ever, spending lots of quality time together at the local public pool or at Carowinds taking advantage of our seasons passes.  I was also available to take care of my mom if she needed me.  I didn't know it then - but she was quickly heading towards the end of her life on earth.  She needed me a lot.  And I was able to be there for her.  What a blessing unemployment turned out to be.

The more time I spent with God the easier it was for me to trust that He would take care of us in every way.  I completely surrendered my job search to him as every 'opportunity' I tried to force left me more depressed and defeated.  I quit looking for employment altogether.  One Sunday morning in church I was standing in the choir loft near the end of service.  The pastor was praying.  During his prayer, my heart started to cry out to God.  "Bless me, God", I pleaded.  "So I can be a blessing to others".  "Give me the job that You would have me do, Lord", I asked.  "And where ever you send me I'll do it the job the best that I can and I will always work to glorify You".

When church was over I was coming down the steps of the choir loft.  A woman who's name I didn't know but recognized as a visitor at the church was coming up the steps.  She stopped me and said "I heard you were looking for a job".

Well yes I was, I told her.  She went on to tell me that a friend of hers worked at a company in Charlotte.  She didn't know exactly what they did or if they even needed anyone - but if I sent her my resume she would send it on over to her friend.  I sent the church visitor my resume later that day and I didn't think much else about it.

The next day her friend called me and told me she had gotten my resume and I was exactly what they were looking for!  "What is it that you're looking for?"  I asked her, realizing that I didn't even know what sort of business it was.

They were looking for a person to work in the mail room of a Homeowners Association Management Company.  How I was "exactly what they were looking for", I have no idea.  Nothing on my resume was even close to anything mail room-related, I thought.  She asked if I could come for an interview the next day and I said "Yes!"

The place was a long way from my house.  It was only going to be part time and not much money per hour.  Had I seen the job in the want-ads I don't think I would have even applied for it, as I had no mail room experience or any desire to get mail room experience.  But I contemplated my prayer telling God that where ever He sent me I would go.

My interview went very well and a couple days later, after nine months of unemployment, wondering where the power bill money was going to come from, deciding between gas money and groceries and many meals of Ramen Noodles with butter - I was employed!!  I realized right away that getting that job had nothing to do with me.  It was a gift and it might as well have been wrapped in paper and adorned with a big, shiny bow from God Himself!

I think that understanding God's plan for your life is nearly impossible!  Sometimes you just have to go with the flow and believe that He knows what He's doing!  The mail room girl - I didn't get it.  At first.  But it wasn't long before I realized what an answered prayer it really was!  Right away I found Jesus-loving Christians in the place and there was even a Wednesday morning prayer group!  If Jesus was there then I knew I was in the right place!  And because I spent 9 months robbing Peter to pay Paul and paying my utility bills in order of which one was next to be disconnected, I would have gladly taken ANY job!  I wasn't digging a ditch (not that digging ditches is not a noble profession) and I was super happy with the awesome opportunity I had been provided!

Because I felt like God Himself lined up this job for me, I looked at it like I was walking into a mission field to do God's work.  I opened hundreds and hundreds of pieces of mail everyday and I would randomly pray for the people as I opened their envelopes.  Over the last 18 months of opening mail I've gotten countless "Tracts" - little pamphlets explaining the way to Salvation through Jesus Christ.  I would pray for those folks and their ministries.  We've gotten mail from disgruntled people - and I would especially pray for them!  There was a lady in one of our older communities who sent her check in every month.  According to her account she was a widow.  Her handwriting was very shaky and barely legible.  I thought maybe she had Parkinson's Disease.  Each month the writing on her check got worse and worse.  Every time I opened her mail I prayed for her.  It wasn't that long ago when we received a letter from her son, saying they were putting her home on the market and were trying to get her into an assisted living center.  A month or so later her checks stopped coming.  I was sad, as I'd grown to love that little lady and her shaky handwriting.  I spent a lot of time "just opening mail" but I also prayed during much of it.  I was close to God in my little mail room.

The mail room wasn't the only 'mission field'.  I went over to the post office everyday.  In spending a few minutes a day over the last 18 months picking up the mail I got to know the two ladies who worked there.  They always had church playing on the radio - and we've had countless small conversations on how great God is!  One of the ladies cried with me on my first day back to work after my mother died - and lifted me up in prayer right there in the post office.  That day was one of the darkest days of my whole life - and God put postal worker Monica on the job that day to remind me of the Joy that only comes from the Lord.

There was a lady standing behind me in line one morning at the post office.  She had on a pink sweat shirt and a pink hat with a pink ribbon embroidered on the front.  She looked like she'd been crying.  "Are you ok?" I asked.  She told me that she would be ok, but that she had just come from the hair salon.  She had been going through treatment for breast cancer and her hair had started to fall out.  "I just had it all shaved off", she continued.  She took off her hat and revealed to me her bald head.  "You're the first person to see it!"  she said, starting to cry.  "What do you think?", she laughed through tears.  By then I was crying myself and told her I thought she was beautiful.  I asked the lady if I could give her a hug and she said she needed that more than anything in the world.  I embraced the stranger and she cried in my arms.  I was grateful for that opportunity.  I think of her often and I hope that she's doing well.

I could write on and on about the blessing the mail room has been for me.  At the least is was a bi-monthly paycheck that fed my kid.  It was an answer to my mother's prayer - as she always hoped I'd find something that I liked and somewhere that would 'understand' if my son got sick and I needed to be home with him.  It provided some health insurance for me - something I didn't have before.  I found some new friends and a group of prayer warriors.  But at the most it was a God-led change of direction for my life and a specific stepping stone on the path that He planned for me before time began.  Is that a little dramatic for a mail room job?  Maybe so.  But that's how it feels.  I loved that job and I treated it like it was the most important position in the place!  I also did the job remembering the promise I made to God - that I work at whatever job He gave me to glorify Him.  I took pride in the work I did and I enjoyed it.  I've been given a new position at my company and I moved into my new office on Friday.  It sounds silly - but I'm a little sad about leaving the mail room behind!  So as I head into my new mission field I will continue to pray for the little mission field in the mail room and hope that the new mail room person loves it as much as I did!

Straight From Hell, Beelzebug Flew Into My House. A True Story

Lately I've come up with about 7 or 8 different ideas to write about.  All of them I'm working on but none of them have I been able to finish.  I'm hoping to knock one out tonight ... hopefully!  And so, in the meantime, I thought I'd post up a true story about the time a bug flew into my house!  I haven't been the same since...

I'm not a great big fan of bugs. If I see one I don't generally scream like a little girl and run away flapping my hands wildly over my head but in general, I don't like them. That's for sure. When it got dark outside tonight I turned the porch light on so the little neighbor girl could see to walk home. The light's been on a good hour and that's plenty of time for all the winged insects to draw near. What is it with the bugs and the lights? You can hear them banging into the glass of our front door, colliding into each other as they dive-bomb the light fixture. I remember when I was a kid one of our friends had a bug zapper. You'd hear the thing fry bugs all night long. In the morning you could look on the ground below the glowing deliverer of death to any bug that dared answer its gleaming call and see hundreds, if not thousands of sizzled and lifeless bug carcasses heaped in a pile. To put it simply, that was just gross. Oh, so back to tonight...

It's an unfortunate placement, a porch light is, right next to the front door. You need it to see who's knocking or to allow whoever's leaving your home to see the stairs so as not to fall and break a bone or twist an ankle. But after an hour or so of the light being on there seems to be a party of flying insects swarming just above head level and right at the main entrance of your house.

So Matthew's little friend had been gone for a bit and he needed to go out to the car to get something. He opened the door and I assume the back draft (or whatever it's called when you open the door and it sort of sucks air from the outside into the inside) created a vacuum and with that flew in the largest, gnarliest, most heinous winged spawn of Satan I have ever seen. It probably weighed 4 pounds and it's thick and brown exoskeleton seemed to be some sort of armor. I can't be for sure if it was intentional but it swooped down just over Matthew's head, it's flapping wings buzzing his precious blonde hair. Matthew let out a yell and dived into the floor covering his head with his little arms. I was caught off guard but as soon as I gained a little composure tried to devise some sort of plan. Matthew screamed at me to "GET HIM! GET HIM" which only made me anxious. "Stop screaming, Matthew!" I said. "I'll get him!" 

My original and poorly, albeit quickly thought up plan was to hit the bug with something, perhaps stun him enough to get him out of the house. I grabbed the first thing I could find - a lint roller - and I stood there trying to decipher his flight pattern armed with my sticky weapon. The nasty bug just banged himself against my ceiling and he was so quick motioned there was no way I would be able to get close enough to club him with (or stick him to) my lent roller. Realizing Matthew was still in a fetal position on the floor, I got him up and sent him onto his room. "Turn your TV on the Disney Channel and shut the door", I said. "Don't come out till I tell you... Mama's got this". And he hurried down the hall and slammed his door.

So back to the first bug that I thought might have a real shot at killing me, I surveyed my surroundings. I tried to shoo him with a dish towel to which he scoffed (if bugs do that). I was going to bash him over the head with my broom but figured I'd tear the house down trying to connect. The thing just erratically flew all over my living room periodically coming straight at me, causing me to let out screams and thrash about and dust myself off just in case he was somehow attached to me. Occasionally I'd open the front door and just hope he had the capacity to understand the way to save himself would be to fly out the opened door.  No luck.  Eventually, the death-beetle landed on the corner of my prized Velvet Elvis painting which was clearly crossing the line. No bug was going to lyte on my dear Elvis Presley hand painted on smooth, black velvet and get away with it.  So I grabbed a cup and a piece of paper. My plan was to put the cup over him, gently slide the piece of paper under him and trap him in the cup. And it worked - or at least I thought it did. I headed for the door with my captured creature planning to throw the cup and all out into the yard and slam the door behind me. But then I heard the buzzing. It wasn't coming from the cup at all but from the shirt I was wearing. I let out a blood-curdling, primal screech and lost my religion there for a minute as I did what only can be described as some sort of Tribal Ritual looking dance around my living room just trying to get the thing off me. Matthew yelled from his room "Are you ok?" and then I heard his door lock.

Mommy was not ok. This flying beast commissioned by the Dark One himself had just molested me. I felt like I needed a bath and a nerve pill to get the feeling of his his jagged little legs off my body. I had had it with this bleeping bug. I was trying to somehow just deliver him back into the outside world but no. He wanted to set up shop on my Velvet Elvis and hurl himself into my body with his full force? Well it was on. I called Mike (my vicious killing machine of a cat) into the house. He wanted to play rough? Well let's see how he would like to have his wings ripped off and then be batted around like a toy. And I was going to gladly watch the infliction of torturous  doom. It only took a second for Mike to notice the hellish invader. His eyes fixed on him when the bug finally landed in the blinds. Mike slowly and quietly climbed the couch and got into stealth mode, poised to pounce. A little flick of his puffed up tail and suddenly Mike let out a little chatter of a battle cry and hurled himself into the blinds with a force that nearly pulled the shades out of the windows. And the bug flew away again casually banging himself against the ceiling. Mike got himself untangled from the bent and crooked blinds and decided he'd rather go outside to play. He stood at the door and waited on me to open it. Another great idea flew right out the window. Too bad it didn't take the bug with it.

So that was the end of the messing around. I had to get this thing out of the house or there would be no sleep for me. Eventually the bug seemed to become confused (I'm assuming) and maybe a little tired.  He decided to take a bit of a rest on the ceiling. He parked it and hung out there for a few minutes. I figured if I was going to get him it was going to be now. Against my better judgement I picked up my broom again and stood there like a ninja for a minute just trying to get up my nerve. I figured I had one good shot to kill him. Anything less than perfect was just going to piss him off. I took a big breath and with a mighty swing gave it my all and whacked that bug as hard as I could wield a broom against the ceiling! And he started to fly. Mercifully he was flying all dazed and crooked. He landed on the floor and I must have beat that bug 20 times with my broom. I never did kill him but I took away his ability to go somewhere. There was nothing left but the matter of scooping up Beelzebug and sending him back through the portal from which he must've come. I was still scared. I've watched about 1 too many scary movies where the monster gets completely killed about 8 different times and just when you think the movie's over he leaps up swinging a blood-covered butcher knife and scares the living poo out of you. I grabbed my power bill and my cable bill and I figured I'd use one piece of mail to sort of push him onto the other piece of mail to carry him outside. I've got to give the bug some credit. Even after being beaten 27 times with a broom not only was he still alive but he had enough strength to cling to my carpet.  Not even the really thick Duke Power bill was strong enough to pry him off my floor. But my Bissell 12-Amp Power Force Vacuum Cleaner was. And with that the bug was gone. (After I removed the only half full vacuum cleaner bag from my vacuum, tied it up in a grocery bag that I threw into a large garbage bag and then threw into the trash can outside).

So my point is this... If you ever want to come over here for a visit at night, you're more than welcomed to come. But you might want to bring a flash light to navigate my steps. Because unlike Motel 6, I WILL NOT leave the light on for you!

Matthew and I Ride The Nighthawk - A True Story, 2011

Someone said to me today ... everything you write makes me cry! I guess that's true. I love my tear-jerkers. Sometimes I even make my own self cry writing them! But I'm just emotional that way. Anyway, I wrote this thing a couple of years ago... It's a true story about the first time I rode a pretty scary roller coaster at Carowinds Amusement Park. Not a sad story at all and you won't cry - unless you feel really sorry for me! Written in the Spring of 2011 - it's called Matthew and I ride the Nighthawk.

This year Matthew is just tall enough to ride everything in our local amusement park. Up until now our thrill rides have been minimal (which has been ok with me!) but this year I’ve had to muster up enough nerve to ride it all! I rode the roller coaster called the Night Hawk (used to be the Borg Assimilator… don’t know if you’re familiar) for the first time ever. And I thought for sure I was going to DIE! We had to stand in line for a while – all the while getting more and more anxious. It’s painted all cheery blue and yellow but despite its happy colors the thing just looks so ominous, twisted and just scary. So we finally made it to the top of the stairs and into the train station. The butterflies in my stomach had become full-on nausea. I didn’t think I was going to be able to do it. My knees were shaking as I asked Matthew “are you sure you wanna do this, son?” Well of course he did. When he grew an inch over the winter time he must’ve also grown fearless. He couldn’t equate a fun amusement park ride with plunging to your death like I could! He was just excited! And I, being the good mother I am, was not going to drag him off the thing kicking and screaming in front of all the other riders so we entered the line queue and finally boarded the ‘train’.

It starts off ok, you just sit down in the thing and you get into the seatbelts – sort of like a 5 point racing harness. And then they come around and lower this bar thing down – one part across your waist and another part over like your shins – sort of locking you into the seat. But then the thing starts to move and suddenly you’re lying flat on your back. Imagine being tied to a chair and then the whole chair tips over and you’re on your back – that’s how you’re supposed to ride this thing. Reality hit me – we were moving and I forgot to pee. It was going to be a miracle if I got through this thing and stayed dry! OH MY LORD WHAT HAVE I DONE?! I’ve strapped myself and my precious baby into this killing machine and we were slowly making our way to the top of the hill. Of course lying flat on your back and going up the hill head first – you couldn’t see a thing but the blazing sun in your eyes. I had no idea when we might reach the top. So I took that time to figure out how I was going to hold on. I liked holding the bar across my waist – but then I wondered if that would be enough of a thing to hold. Then I crossed my arms over my chest and thought I’d hold onto the harnesses – but that didn’t seem “handle-ish” enough. I had just enough time to get my hands back down to the bar over my waist as I felt myself becoming head-down and tipping over. We were at the top – and there was no turning back.

We were still on our backs as we started going down. And for a split second there I thought “Ok, this isn’t so bad, I can probably do this”. But then as soon as the ‘train’ cleared the hill suddenly the thing flipped over. Now this whole time my back had been pressed firmly into the seat. I had the bars on me and the 5-point racing harness all over me and I thought I was in that seat as much as one could be in a seat. But when the thing turned upside down my back came off the seat probably no more than an inch or two. In the time it took me to spill off my seat and into my harness 2 inches away was probably a millisecond – but that was plenty enough time to think I was plunging to my death. I pried my fingers from the lap bar and squeezed my arms across the straps of my harness but that didn’t help. I was dangling in a contraption that had me putting my entire life in the hands of probably whoever bid the lowest to build the thing. At first my eyes were open and as I looked down I could see the tiny people standing safely on the ground. I took comfort in a net that was directly below us between me and the people (mostly for catching change, hats, anything not bolted down) but a second later even the ‘safety’ net was gone as we hurled down the hill – head first and facing the ground. What kind of twisted freak comes up with this sort of stuff?! My hands frantically back and forth from the lap bar to the harness, finally settling on one hand on the bar and one arm squeezing myself across the harness. Ultimately no way was a good way to hold on as the only comfort I was going to have was either when I died and found myself in Heaven or somebody got me off the thing.

So, down the hill we went – my eyes firmly shut. We “flew” over water (although I didn’t really know it because by then I wasn’t looking!) then we were flung into the air and mercifully back on our backs momentarily. It was but a passing moment as the thing flipped over again, the falling out feeling happened again, and we were flying again. Surely the ride was about to come to a stop? It had been going for what felt like an hour. Turns out the sadistic creator of The Night Hawk saved the ‘best’ for last as we came up on the corkscrew turns. On my back. Spilling out. On my back. Spilling out. Oh God, I cried! “Make it stop!” And mercifully, my savior heard my plea. The best thing I ever saw was the roof of that train station.

The ride was over and I had lived through it. OH! MATTHEW! I nearly forgot about him! The best I could hope for was that he was alive. I didn’t see him spill out on that first flip before I closed my eyes, so I felt certain he was at least still strapped into the thing. “Matthew?” I asked. “Are you ok?” I figured he’d be crying and ready to leave the park. I assumed we’d be working this one out in therapy at some point down the road – you know, the whole “my mom forced me to ride the Nighthawk and I’ve never been the same since therapy session”. “THAT WAS GREAT!!” He exclaimed! “WHOO!” I was happy to hear his voice. I was glad to know that his tiny little body didn’t work itself out of the restraints and onto pavement somewhere but I couldn’t believe that child had just ridden the same thing I had. Clearly, he’s got some sort of issue that blocks him from seeing the danger in things. I’m going to have to keep a better eye on him!

So, we made it back into the station, they raised our seats up, unbuckled us and we were free to go. I was happy to be back on the ground and I was happy that my bladder had held up under the circumstances. A lesser bladder would have given up at the first sign of spilling out of the thing! I was happy. Happy and dry and shaking. I had to sit down. I stumbled my way over to the first place to sit. I sat there trembling and sort of dazed. Blinking a few times and swallowing. I stared at the blue and yellow menace in front of me and I couldn’t believe I just allowed my precious son to be a victim of it. Matthew, meanwhile, was all jacked up and ready to go ride some more very scary things! “COME ON MOM!” he pleaded! “LET’S GOOO!!!” I answered his requests with “that was the scariest thing I’ve ever done in my entire life”. “I loved it!” he reminded me! “Didn’t you love it mom?” “No son, no I didn’t. I thought I was going to die” I quietly answered back. And my son, bless his heart – I know he loves me but I’m not so sure I’ll ever be able to count on him for any sort of comfort or understanding in a future time of need, says “Mom. You’re wrecking all my joy”. And then he was mad at me until I regained myself enough to walk over to the next thrill ride and start that process all over again!

I Got Baptised Today!

So, I was sitting in the church service this morning, minding my own business, when all of a sudden I jumped up from my pew and got myself baptised. I'll admit it wasn't the first time something like this has happened. But I'm certain it was the first time it happened directly after being overcome by the Holy Spirit!!

The first time I was baptised I was 15 years old. I was a sophmore at a small Christian School and we were on a beach trip that Spring. During one of the nightly times of fellowship Pastor Ray did the altar call. I remember becoming emotional and right there in front of all my teenaged friends I "accepted Christ as my Savior". Nothing was stopping me from getting baptised - there wasn't even time to think about it. Pastor Ray and I walked down into the ocean water, illuminated by an amazingly bright, full moon and he sent me under the waves. When I came up ... the only way I can describe how I felt was ... "Wet". And that was all. And then I went on about my business, living my life in a way that definitely did not reflect a "new creation" in Christ. Not that there was ever actual salvation as a result of going under the water - but even in its symbolism, I never felt like that one 'stuck' or even counted.

Fast-forward 25 or so years. There's been a lot of crazy-living between that spur-of-the-moment dunking and this day but I survived despite myself! It took awhile but I found my way to a Baptist church that I fit right into. I joined a Sunday School Class, became a member of the church, became an alto in the choir and started volunteering for our local mission projects. And of course, like any good Baptist would, I learned how to make an assortment of casseroles and crock pot food. For the most part - if the doors were open I was there. If there was a function - I didn't miss it. I knew Christ as my Savior and my Christianity was maturing by the day. I was finally living the life that more reflected Christ in me. The only thing I was disappointed about was that my Baptism had already been done - and it didn't mean anything to me then as it surely would now. I thought about it and thought about it over the last couple of years. I almost did it when my son was baptised but figured it was his day and I had already had my turn.

Our church recently went through a major renovation. We had to move out of there and meet somewhere else for 6 weeks. Over that six weeks time 10 different people had accepted Christ and decided to be baptised! So today was the day! The church was packed and you could feel that something special was coming up. The pastor walked down into the water and one after another our Christian brothers and sisters were symbolically washing their sins away in the beautifully renovated baptismal. A few teenagers, my friend's little boy, a lady from my Sunday School class and finally the little son of our Worship Pastor and the Pastor's little girl. It was so emotional and exciting that I'm sure no one in the building had a dry eye. It was beautiful and an awesome way to start the new year and in our beautiful new sanctuary!

It could have been over right then and we all could have walked away feeling happy and blessed for being a witness to a great morning. But then the pastor started bringing his message. He talked, I smiled, laughed, listened to him closely and I heard him loud and clear. It started to become apparent to me that I wasn't hearing what Pastor Jason would have me hear but what the Holy Spirit was pressing into me. At first he said "The water is still warm and I'll go right back up there if you need to go!" And then he said "Maybe you were young when you were baptised before and a lot has happened between then and now. Maybe you want to recommit yourself. The water is still in there!" He explained the act of baptism and why it was important. I put my hand up to my heart, I was breathing heavily and I was all but overcome with emotion. He recited Acts 8:36 saying, "And as they were going along the road they came to some water, and the eunuch said, “See, here is water! What prevents me from being baptized?” Then he said "NOTHING!" I believe he reiterated one more time that the water was still in there. My friend Jodi turned and looked at me, I said "I'm going" and she jumped up, grabbed my hands and said "OK!"

By then the Holy Spirit had completely consummed me. I was shaking uncontrollably, my teeth even chattered. I practically floated up the stairs to the next floor, kicked off my shoes and stood at the top of the stairs leading down into the cleansing water that awaited me. I stood in the stairway, raised my hands and praised God for convicting me in such away. He made it perfectly clear that I had to get in that water. That old me had to die under that water and I wasn't leaving that building without getting wet! Pastor Jason made his way back into the baptismal and called me down the stairs. I walked into the pool, church clothes and all. I felt every inch of the cool water as it raised higher and higher on me. It was as supernatural as it could be, feeling years of sin floating away from my body. I might as well have been in the middle of the River Jordan with John the Baptist himself. I was transported to a place that I've never been and my decision to be there wasn't mine at all. My actions this day were driven by my love for my precious Savior and the Holy Spirit convinced me to act on that love. Amazing Love was pounding in my chest and my whole body trembled. The pastor covered my face with a cloth, I held my breath and I was plunged under the water. It felt like slow motion and I could literally see sin, despair, grief, anxiety, worry, fear and eternal damnation peel off of me, layer by layer, and fall to the bottom of the pool. Pastor raised me up and I was washed clean!! Not just "all wet" but cleansed, renewed, Born Again! I finally felt like that "new creation" that I had been told I was. I've had a strange feeling on my skin all day, like the feeling you have when you get out of a really hot shower. And I'm exhausted. You don't encounter the Holy Spirit and walk away feeling no different.

This day was perfect. Any day that you hear God speaking to you is a great day!! I love my church, the people and the pastors. I love our mission for God's church to Go and Tell and Love others in our Actions. Pastor probably doesn't even realize how much I depend on his shepherding and his teaching. God does know though - and it was God who directed my path to take me through the doors of TBC. He knew this day was coming! It has always been God's intention to baptise me there, on this day and in front of those people. Praise God for his perfect plan! And praise Him for his cleansing power! I am redeemed - I've been redeemed for a long time. But today everyone else knows it too!

Happy New Year From Heaven!

Happy New Year from Heaven! I wanted to take a minute to stop by and say Hi! Things are great here – and how couldn’t they be?! You just can’t imagine how beautiful a place it is. I remember before taking my trip into eternity, I used to think about what Heaven would be like. And although I figured it was pretty amazing, I really had no idea! The awesome wonder of this place is more than I can put words too. I can’t wait for you to see for yourself the glorious splendor. That reminds me … If you don’t know the Way to get here, please get someone to introduce you to Jesus! Jesus said “I am the Way”! You can’t get here without Him. If you seek Him you will find Him. Read John 14 in your Bible. It’s almost like a map. Jesus is the Way. It’s true! I’ve seen Him for myself. And I can’t wait to see your faces when you see His face in person!

Speaking of Jesus, Heaven pales, simply pales in comparison to the shining Glory of my precious Lord, Jesus Christ! I know that you were sad when I left the earth but the day I met my sweet Jesus face to face can only be described as uncontainable elation. A euphoric joy unobtainable in our earthly state! I ran to Him as he called me into His presence and I threw myself face down on His feet. He was glowing and so beautiful, I felt too unworthy to even look at him. I hid my face. But He lifted me up into his robe-draped arms, turned my face to His and whispered, “Well done, thy good and faithful servant.” The angels shouted Hosannas in the highest! There was music and dancing and unending worship and praise. My cancer-ravaged body was gone and I was refreshed and renewed, dressed in fine linens and welcomed by bands of angels everywhere! What a glorious day it was! I hated to leave you all behind – but I promise when you get here you’ll understand! I sent you a rainbow to let you know I arrived ok. Did you see it?

One of the angels took me by the hand and led me into a room filled with treasures beyond your mind’s comprehension. In the middle of the room there was a table draped in purple silk and covered in crowns. They dazzled in the light of the Precious Lamb, finely crafted in casts of platinum, gold and covered in diamonds, rubies, emeralds and every kind of precious stone. They were more than priceless, I’m sure! I’m not bragging but they were all for me! I remembered hearing something about these crowns – sort of rewards for doing Jesus’ work on Earth. It was a nice gesture, it really was! But even those crowns and their astounding richness were mere trinkets compared to the Glory of the Most High God! I took those crowns and threw them at Jesus’ feet! I haven’t had that much fun in years! He laughed and He was pleased with me while I danced and shouted praises to His Name. The crowns crashed onto the floor, broke into pieces, sending shards of diamonds, precious stones and sparkling slivers of gold bouncing all around his Holy Feet. It was a priceless dust trail, dragged all the way to the throne by the hem of His robe. I’d never imagined such a sight, such a precious sight!

When I turned to leave His presence I was suddenly staring into the face of my beloved son Devan! How I had longed to hold my baby again! I fell into his embrace, kissed his face all over and held onto him for what felt like forever. My baby – so healthy and well in his restored body! And of course as handsome as he ever was. He was so very happy to see me too. He said they’d all been expecting me and had set a place at the table. They had fixed a heavenly meal for my arrival! I couldn’t wait to see everyone! Johnny walked up and took me by my hands. “It’s about time you got here!” He said! “Did you get lost on the way?!” You know Johnny, always the kidder! It was so great to be in the arms of my family again! We walked down the streets of gold together, holding hands and catching up with each other. They walked me home. Everyone was there! I was with my mom and dad, grandparents, sisters, friends and so much family!! All of these beautiful people that I had grieved so hard over were here and had come together just to welcome me! What a celebration!! Just so you know … I’ll be here for you when you make your own journey. It’s just how we do things here!

I know that my leaving has been very hard on some of you. Believe me, I miss you too. I’m not sad at all because we don’t hurt up here but I’m very much looking forward to seeing you as soon as you can get here! To my sweet grandchildren and great-grandchildren, please know that even though I’m not there in the physical world, I’m very much there in your hearts! I know when you talk to me and I’m watching you grow into the fine young men and women that you all have become! I’m still very much a doting grandmother and not a day goes by that I don’t nudge someone, point down to the earth where you are and say, “That’s my grandkid!” Laicee and Carl – what amazing parents you both are and raising precious, precious babies! Now if Heidi and Jason will just bring a few kids into the world it would make my heart proud! Your father says the same thing! He also thinks that one of you should name a baby “Great Dev-eny”? He sends his love, by the way and wants you to know that he’s fine and will see you when you get here.

Sweet Matthew, Nana loves you very much – please don’t cry for me anymore. I saw you when you were baptized. I want you to know that the angels sang when you came up from the water! Don’t you worry yourself about this anymore. Jesus knows your heart and he’s written your name in the Book of Life. Please believe that I’ll see you again – just not one minute before it’s time. Be a good boy for your mom and help her. I know how she’s struggled.

My darling daughter Jonna … I love you Toot. And I’m sorry that I had to leave you when I did. My body couldn’t take another breath. If you saw where I was you wouldn’t cry another teardrop for me. I’m in beautiful Heaven with all the family! You always cared about my happiness – and I’m so happy now. I love you so much! I’ve seen the way you’ve grieved for me, longed for me and cried yourself to sleep some nights. I promise you will see me again – you can believe it because you know the Way. So dry your eyes my precious baby girl and start living a good and purpose-filled life again! Serve others with a joyful heart and make sure that everything you do you do it for the Glory of the Lord. Now that I’m here I have seen the plans that He has for you. It’s more than you could ever dream of! There’s a reason you’re the last one. I can’t tell you now but it’ll all make sense one day, I promise. Raise your son to love God, be a good servant for Jesus and a light in the World. He’s going to be something grand someday – and he needs YOU there to guide him along the way. Just put every ounce of your faith and trust in Jesus and everything will be fine. I’m not there to help you anymore – but Jesus is. Don’t worry. And please, stop crying for me. Back in the Hospice House I heard you tell me it was ok for me to go. And now I’m telling you that it’s ok to stay! We’ll set a place for you at the table when it’s your time but until then enjoy your life on earth and make sure you tell people about Jesus!

It’s time for me to go now. Everyone sends their love. Have a safe and happy new year my Facebook friends and family! Treat people with kindness and mercy. Forgive people because you’ve been forgiven and love each other as yourself. You don’t have much time there on earth so make the best of it. And no matter what – always remember that Jesus loves you! Make sure you tell any lost soul that He loves them too!
Until we meet again,
Becky

PS – Toot, your daddy sends his love and says to look for the flowers we’ll be sending to you in the spring. He also wanted me to tell you that you and he were right! Elvis Presley did make it up here!