God has allowed many people to come and go in my life.  These people have impacted me in such a way that it has molded me into the person I am today.  One of these men in my life that God has blessed me with is my husband. 

I have heard many, many, MANY stories of his childhood from his family and from him.  Most of the stories are full of negative words and most of them end up in how much trouble he was in.  I know that there are children who face worse things than what he dealt with, but that doesn't mean that what he went through wasn't hard.  For more than a decade he struggled with anger due to issues from his childhood.  And then the anger would increase everytime he had to hear "that happend so long ago, you need to let it go." 

As soon as he could, he joined the military.  But the anger followed him.  He tried to ignore the issues that bothered him but when the memories came back, they would come back in full force and his anger would be out of control.

Over the past 10 years I have watched him transform into a completely different person.  Now, he is 33 years old.  He has looked the face of Anger in the eyes and fought back....and has won.  God has placed special people in his life to help him to learn to forgive.  And once he learned to fogive, pieces of the anger that surrounded his heart began to chip away.  It took years, but his heart is full of joy and peace. 

Yes, he is still opinionated, over-bearing, and gruff.  But that is his make-up.  He was specially hand-crafted by God himself.  Who knows, maybe one day he'll make a good politician.  But for now, he is simply a great man.  One of his great fears was not being a good father, and that in itself makes him a better father than even he could ever imagine. 

On December 16, 2011 we will mark our 11 year wedding anniversary.  Each anniversary that comes around reminds me of how special our marriage is and how hard we have worked to keep it going strong. 

From now on, Eric, I promise to focus on who you are now, and not who you were then.  You have definately earned it. 

Will you say YES to those God puts in your path?

Steph, a young mother of a sweet, 5 year old little girl kisses her daughter goodnight and tucks her in with her favorite pink blanket.  She brushes the mangled hair away from her daughter's face and gives her a big re-assuring smile just as her daughter closes her eyes for the night.   Tears begin to well up in Steph's eyes at the realization of what her life has come to.   She closes the door as quietly as she can. 

As she slowly slides down to the ground she begins to weep. She cries harder and louder and longer than she's ever cried before. Longing for the arms of the man who left her alone a month ago becomes stronger in this moment. He hasn't contacted her or tried to help her out since the day he walked away.  Her heart is broken and heavy.  It's a physical feeling deep down inside her chest that even causes breathing to be difficult.

He left without paying the rent and the landlord has been breathing down her neck for the past two weeks.  Finally, he had had enough and gave her until the end of the day to get what little she owned out.  She feels so rejected but even more she feels her daughter has been rejected.  The hurt is unbearable.  "Why wouldn't anybody let this little girl stay just one more night?"  she thinks to herself. 

It seems like everytime she turns around her luck runs out more than she expected that it could.  The gas tank was too low to get to work again so she lost her job 3 days ago.  All of her cell phone minutes were used trying to find work and a place to stay.  She used her last 3 minutes to call a friend for a place to stay tonight.  This friend was a Christian friend so she was so hopeful that her daughter would have shelter for one more night.  But, as luck would have it, her friend said no. 

So Steph sits alone with no job, no food, no gas, no cell phone, and no shelter.  She was so sure that her friend would have let her stay the night.  Anger and betrayl builds in her heart.  "So much for those Christians"  she thinks to herself. 

Her eyes begin to sting.  Exaustion has set in. Her body hurts from the bottom of her feet to the temples of her head from having to walk from place to place.  She has never in her life been more tired.  Tired of trying.  Tired of running.  Tired of going on being a failure.  She wipes her tears and stands up.  She opens the car door and curls up in the passenger seat and closes her eyes and hopes, maybe, just maybe tomorrow will be better. 
 

New Perspectives

At an early age I began to worry about aging.  The idea of wrinkles, gray hair and an aching body have driven me to buy countless products & to try many "look younger" tricks.  I have been so afraid of turning 30.  It still sounds so old!  For the past decade I have looked at it as a door closing.  My 20s are over.  I have dwelt on all the things I wish I had done and all of the things that I had convinced myself that I'm 'too old' to do.  These negative thoughts have plagued my mind for far too long.  I was beginning to get depressed.

God sat me down the other day & flipped my entire idea of aging upside-down.  The only alterative to not turning 30 would be death.  Death would mean that I would miss my children's laughs, hugs & kisses, birthday parties, first dates, proms, weddings....well, you get the idea.  I would miss more anniversaries with my husband, laughs on top of the ferris wheel, late night TV marathons in bed, New Year's kisses, & flowers on the dining room table.  Time has bound us closer and closer together. We have memories that we will share many years from now. 

The lines forming on my face are from the laughter I get from my family every day.  So give me more.  The gray hair comes from the countless sleepless nights tending to sick children, working for a living, and struggling to make it one more day in this world.  So what? Without these things, my life would be sad and lonely. 

  I'm looking 30 dead in the eyes and I am no longer afraid.  I am ready to live the rest of my life.

So I say to you, body, bring on the gray hair & wrinkles.

 AND BRING ON 30!

Taking the Bull By The Horns

I'm a late-twenties, blue-collar, living-paycheck-to-paycheck, married, mother-of-three.  Life is hard.  Money does not come easy.  If it did, our America would be a heck of a lot different. 

I am blessed that I don't know what it's like to be homeless or to live on disability.  I don't know what it's like to have to skip a bill to pay the groceries.  I don't know what it's like to be without a vehicle.  Most would say that I am blessed and I would agree.  I have a family to thank for some of these things. 

Here's what I do know:  I know that no matter what the circumstance maybe in your life, that there is a way to help yourself out.  Don't have a car?  Call a cab, get a bike, take a bus, WALK.  Don't have enough money?  Get a second job, change your current job, use your hobbies to make an income, government funding.  Struggling in your marriage?  Go to counceling, talk it out, divorce.  (not something I encourage, but it is an option). 

Am I a cold-hearted, self-righteous, careless human being?  Absoltely not!  I love to be a servant of God.  I love knowing that giving my time, money, advice, and sometimes even groceries from my own fridge has helped a person in need.  I encourage my children to give and to be compassionate to those who may not have as much as we do. 

But when you are in a bind, and you have been given advice and monetary help and other things from friends and family and your situation hasn't changed then maybe it's time for you to take the bull by the horns and turn things around on your own.  Don't depend on others to fix a problem that you are not willing to fix yourself.  The only person that is truly capable of changing your situation is you. 

Hillbilly Angels

It was coming.  One of the most destructive hurricanes predicted to hit Houston in years.  As information flooded throughout the airwaves panic hit the people.  My husband and I had only been married for a little over 3 years.  We had 2 children, John was 3, Allie was 2 and I was 7 months pregnant with Travis.  Our loyal chocolate lab, Parker, was 4 years old. 

The plan was to spend the day packing and preparing so we could leave before dawn the next morning for a 2 & 1/2 hour drive to Pollok,TX to stay with my parents.  Many people had already evacuated and the latest news was not only that the hurricane was 5 days away, but that the traffic was horrific.  Hurricane Rita was right on the heels or hurricane Katrina that had hit Louisianna and caused massive destruction and many deaths.  Rumors spread that Rita (a category 5 hurricane) was to cause just as much damage and destruction to Texas as Katrina did to Louisianna. 

Eric is an Army veteran and has been trained on how to survive in circumstances such as these.  He planned for everything.  He hooked up the boat to our SUV so we could travel with more supplies.  He packed several ice chests including one that was electric and would keep food warm, a travel propane grill, most of our clothing, 50 gallons of gasoline, tools in case we broke down, first aid kits, wind up flashlights, flares, spare tires, and many, many more necessary essentials.  Most of the things he packed would've never crossed my mind.  It's times like these that make me grateful for his rather impulsive peronality. 

My little 4-door Plymoth Neon carried all the baby supplies (playpen, diaper bags, extra clothes, toys, car seats, etc.)  We were more prepared for a nuclear war than we were a hurricane.  Eric boarded the windows to our house with help from some family members and I took care of preparing the inside of the house (moving items to high shelves, cleaning out the freezers, laundry, ect).  Eric & I exchanged phone numbers with some of our neighbors and we all wished each other good luck and safe travels.  We went inside and watched the weather one last time and went to bed.  I lay awake that night wondering if I had prepared enough.  Did the kids have everything?  Have I secured my pictures and personal mementos high enough to avoid flood waters?  Will our neighbors be safe?  Will I ever see them again? Will our house be here when we get back?  Will this be the last time I sleep in my bed?  Will our insurance cover everything?  You name it, I worried about it. 

As planned, Eric & I were up at 3 AM the next morning and on the road in less than thirty minutes.  Eric pulled the boat and Parker rode happily at his side.  I traveled with both of the kids in my car and followed.  We drove for a good 20 minutes thinking that we had missed all of the outbound traffic, but by the time we hit Baytown, I was proven to be very wrong.  John was awake and noticed all of the tail lights for as far as our eyes could see.  My mouth opened in shock at the vast amount of traffic but my innocent little boy saw the beauty in the colors.  He said "Look, mommy, it looks just like Christmas".  A smile crossed my face and I knew that God was there with us and using the words of my little boy to calm my nerves and lift my spirits.
Hours had gone by and we had traveled bumper to bumper in traffic since Baytown and we were nowhere close to our destination.  It was hot.  None of the convenient stores or restaurants were open.  Our cell phones didn't work because of the amount of people on them was clogging up the servers.  And our speed hadn't reached over 30 mph since the beginning of our journey. 

It was early morning, around 8 am,when John needed his first potty break.  He was potty training at the time and I hated to tell him to go in his pull-up after we had made so much progress with him.  My bladder was full as well and was causing me to be very uncomfortable.   Not to mention, Travis's summer-saults were not helping matters much.  We came to a complete stop in traffic for several minutes.  I got out and asked Eric to watch Allie while John and I walked over to the bushes.  Luckily, there was very tall and thick brush on this stretch of road.  This was the first time John had gone to the restroom on a tree.  As excited as he was I was not all that keen on having to squat while 7 months pregnant, watch for on-lookers and supervize a 3 year old.  Nevertheless, I managed.  When we were done, John skipped out of the brush and announced to all of those standing outside of their cars that we had tee-teed in the jungle.  I felt my face turn several shades of red but I'm certain that many of those people, including myself, needed a good laugh. 

Lunchtime came and we found an empty convenient store to park our small convoy.  We had been in the car for over 8 hours and we hadn't even made it half way to Pollok.  My back was hurting, legs were cramping, ankles were swelling and shoulders were stiff.  Allie had been screaming to get out of her car seat for over an hour.  We desperately needed the stop.  Our lunch consisted of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches in the back of the boat.  I prepared our sandwiches using Eric's pocket knife because of all the things we packed, we didn't think to pack plastic ware.  This picnic has always been one of my favorite memories.  We were so glad to be out of the car and in each others company that the long trek ahead didn't seem to bother anybody.  The kids were happy, the sun was shining and I was completely calm knowing that we were in good hands with Eric and, of course, with God the Father. 

After about 30 minutes, we got back on the road.  Several more hours went by.  Traffic had been deadlocked many times so we made sure we were walking and stretching when we could.  And of course, we made more tips to the "jungle".  Traffic was moving so slow that I was able to take the kids out of the car seats to keep their backs from getting sweaty.  This seemed to help in stopping Allie's fits. 

More time had past.  By now we had traveled for 13 hours and Eric had finally reached his breaking point.  Luckily, we were now able to get cell phone service so he called his dad, Dennis.  Dennis had an atlas that consited of only the back roads in Texas.  Dennis was able to direct Eric onto some very hidden dirt roads and out of the way of traffic.  Once we got to the first dirt road we were completely alone.  There were no cars in sight.  We caught a new sense of determination.  Excitement moved us now.  It was the first time our vehicles had reached the 60 MPH mark. 

It was getting close to dark.  The kids were back in their car seats and were napping.  It had been a long day for all of us and I did not mind their late nap.  I was tired.  No, exausted.  My body hurt.  My feet were swelling. My mind was frazzled and Travis's back flips were not making this easy.  But we pushed on.  By this time all I could think about was just making it home to my mama and daddy. 

We went from one back road to another as the sun continued to set.  Finally, we reached one particular dirt road that was buried with a thick canopy.  It was dark.  Partly because of the setting sun and partly because of the heavy brush.  The first thing that went through my mind when we turned onto this road was "Great, this is the kind of place where people get chopped up and eaten by the local weirdos and go missing forever."  My love for horror movies and dramatic thinking did not help things one bit.  I allowed my mind to go away from knowing I was safe with God and stray toward thoughts of the world.  Serial killers, rapists, wild animals....more and more worry set in as our cars crept onto this road.  I have always been very aware of my surroundings.  I looked as deep into the brush as I could, but it was pitch black.  I could hear the brush scraping the car and the rocks rolling under my tires but other than that, it was eerily silent.

Eric got excited and sped up.  Dust began to blanket the air.  I tried catching up with him but I was afraid the bumps and dips would wake up the kids.  In minutes I lost his tail lights.  My cell phone was dead.  I was frightened.  My stomach began to tighten with contractions.  I could feel my heart beating in my throat.  Tears began to fill my eyes.  The stress of the day was catching up to me.  I was finally breaking.  I pulled the car over and scolded myself for being so weak when I needed to be focused.  I took a deep breath and continued on.  After all, the road was straight and I would meet him at the end. 

I drove a few more minutes and came to a fork in the road.  Panic began to set in.  I knew I needed to concentrate and think straight but I couldn't focus.  I couldn't see much outside of my bright lights.  I stopped to look at my surroundings.  We were now in the middle of the woods and it was very, very dark.  I looked for dust hovering over each road to see which way he had gone, but I was so far behind that it had already settled.  The realization that I was completely alone, litterally, in the middle of nowhere hit me hard.  I began to cry.  I cried many, many quiet tears trying my best not to wake the kids.  It made things worse.  I couldn't see anything now.  My head was spinning.  The car seemed smaller.  I couldn't think.  I couldn't breathe.  My stomache became tighter.  I just wanted out.  I had never in my life felt so completely helpless.  Weak.  Vulnerable.  Alone.

Just when I thought it couldn't get any worse, head lights shone in my rear view mirror.  I turned around to see a very old Chevy pick up truck with wooden planks built on the sides of the bed as a make-shift barrier.  There they were....the local canibals here to eat me and my children.  I began to panic. The truck got closer. "What do I do?!" I thought to myself.   In the cab I could make out at least 3 people and in the bed of the truck stood at least 4 or 5 men.  My mind got the best of me.  The sleepiness and exhaustion had set in.  I was convinced that I was in danger.  We were going to die.  I reacted.  I pressed on the gas as hard as I could and spun out.  I reached 40 mph down this dark little road.  My heart raced and tears flowed from my eyes.  Where was Eric?  Why did he leave us?  Anger and betrayal crept in but more than that was the desire for his presence.  Small rocks shot out from under my tires, some hittng the windshield, and the bumps and dips shook the car.  Dust blew all around me and both of the kids woke up.  Allie began to cry...and then John.  I knew I would be safe if I just had Eric there!  I had many mixed emotions and I couldn't contain them any longer.  I didn't care about anything.  I didn't care that  the kids werecrying, I didn't care if I damaged the car, I didn't care that my stomache was tightening.  Nothing mattered and nothing else was more important than getting out of there and finding Eric.  I was sobbing now. 

Just then, in the distance I saw headlights. I could make out a silhouette of a boat.  It was Eric.  He had stopped on the side of the road.  I saw him standing next to the truck waiting on me to catch up.  I slamed on my breaks and fishtaled my car until I came to a stop next to the truck.  My car skidded a couple of feet.  I threw the door open and  jumped out of the car not sure if I was going to hug him or slap him.  He threw his arms around me and through sobs I began to tell him about being separated and the truck and the strange hillbillies.  He stroked my hair back and, as always, managed to talk me out of my frenzy and got me breathing at a semi-normal rate. 

And as luck would have it, the hillbillies drove up.  Eric and I walked back over to the car together.  I was glued to his side.  The truck met us on the road and one of the men in the back yelled out from the bed of the truck asking if we were ok.  Eric waved them over.  I wasn't petrified anymore but still a little nervous.  As they pulled up, the person in the passenger seat leaned over her window and said "Oh, Lordy, I just knew we had scared that poor girl."  (I would've never known she was a woman had I not heard her voice.)  Everyone of them were wearing overalls and some sort of cowboy hat.  They never left their truck but they turned to be very kind.  I call them my angels.  I believe they had been sent by God to look out for us.

They introduced themselves.  I don't remember any of their names except that one of them was called "Rooster."  The lady noticed the kids in the car and how pregnant I was and just felt awful about scaring me like they did.  As it turned out, they lived aroud the area and had been running the roads all day and night helping those who had been stuck in the traffic.  I felt like a fool.  We thanked them for looking out for us and I apologized for my over-reaction. 

We got back into our cars and we were on our way again.  It took us a couple of hours but the back-road atlas managed to get us safely to my mom and dad's house.  I had never been so grateful to be back home and in the presence of my family in my life.

I learned a very valuable lesson that day.  God is always with me and is always trying to help me out of sticky situations.  His messages are always pretty clear, but it's up to me if I want to hear them or not. 
I will never forget what I went through the day I met my hillbilly angels.  I know I will never see them again but that I will always remember,and be grateful, for their kindness and willingness to come to my aide despite the fact that I was a complete stranger.  And since then I have been more aware of those around me and have made myself available to be used by God to help those in need.  And, I should add, since then I have cut out all horror movies!

Fishin' Buddies

It was a crisp Autumn morning as Jimmy waited down his old dirt road for the school bus to arrive.  He held his Superman lunch kit tight in his hand and all of his school supplies were stashed neatly in his backpack.  Jimmy's mother had made sure he was buttoned as snug as he could be in his light jacket before she sent him off to school.  His best friend, Molly, sat at his side.  She was a gorgeous yellow Labradore Retriever with a bright red collar.  Molly let out a small whimper and looked up at Jimmy with her big brown eyes.  Jimmy knew that the bus was close.  Molly hated to see him go and Jimmy never wanted to leave her side.  The tension grew in the pit of Jimmy's stomache.  Oh, how he dreaded going to school.  He didn't have any friends and he wasn't very smart.  Many times he tried to make good plays during his 3rd grade P.E class so that just once he would be the hero.  But most times he just ended up making a fool of himself.  

The bus arrived and he gave Molly one last rub on the head before stepping in.  The bus driver popped her gum and just glanced at him as he walked past her to his seat.  He liked sitting by himself and he usually didn't have a problem getting a seat a lone because none of the other kids wanted to be caught sitting with him.  Mostly the kids on the bus left him alone but ever-so-often he would feel a spit-ball stick to the top of his shoulder and hear snickers from the children behind him. 

Jimmy had one good friend, besides Molly.  Buck was what a lot of people would call a "good-old-boy".  He was very down to earth.  He liked his muddy cowboy boots and his base ball cap.  He spent a lot of his spare time down at the lake with his fishing pole.  Jimmy would often join him but would never fish.  He just enjoyed Buck's company.  Buck had a way of making Jimmy feel like a completely different person outside of school.  When Buck was around, he felt smart and important.  Buck never really said anything special to make Jimmy feel the way he did, he simply accepted Jimmy for who he was. 

One day while the two boys were fishing at the lake, Buck asked Jimmy why he never fished.  Ashamed to tell Buck the truth, he simply shrugged his shoulders and said "I don't know".  You see, Jimmy's father went away to the war when Jimmy was just a baby.  Months past when his mother received a knock at the door by two U.S Army soldiers.  Jimmy's father would not be returning.  His mother never married again so Jimmy didn't have anybody to teach him to fish.  Jimmy was afraid that if Buck realized he couldn't fish, he'd loose his only friend in the world, besides Molly that is. 

Several weeks went by and Jimmy had forgotten about the conversation at the lake until one day he met Buck at their favorite spot and noticed that Buck had 2 poles with him.  Buck made an announcment that this day, Jimmy was going to learn how to fish.  "How did you know that I didn't know how to fish" Jimmy asked him.  "Well, I was thinking about why it was that you don't fish the other day and I kind of figured...well...you know....not really having... a dad and all.....well, I just thought I'd teach you how to fish."  Buck replied rather awkwardly.

Jimmy had told Buck years ago about his father but this was the first time Buck had brought it up.  Something struck him and for a brief moment Jimmy realized that outside of these casual meetings at the lake Buck thought about him.  That was the moment that Jimmy realized that maybe, just maybe, he was worth a little more than what he gave himself credit for.  

Buck spent hours showing Jimmy all the different bait and lures.  He taught him how to string his pole and use the reel.  Jimmy was a fast learner and realized within a couple of weeks that he was almost as good-a fisherman as Buck.  Soon, Jimmy was catching fish large enough to keep and would bring them home to his mama.  She was so proud of him.  She would fillet the fish and they would feast at least once a week.  It made him feel good to please his mama and to know that he had contributed to the good of the family.  He knew his dad would be proud.

Years went by and Jimmy and Buck rarely missed a weekend to fish.  Molly had since passed but had left Jimmy with, Trout, the runt of her last litter.  Trout turned out to be just as loyal and just as protective as his mother.  Trout loved to spend weekends at the lake with the boys.  Occasionally, he would fetch his own fish, right out of the lake. 

The year came when they were old enough to participate in the annual Bass Tournament.  Several of the kids from school participated.  As it goes, mean kids grow up to be mean teen-agers.  Several of the boys involved in the tournament began to razz Jimmy.  Buck, being the laid-back person he is, had taught Jimmy over the course of the years how to let the comments roll off his back and just smile.  And that's just what he did.

Jimmy ended up winning the tournament that year and every year after that.  He and Buck would find more tournaments to enter and before they knew it both boys were bringing home several trophies a year.  Jimmy began to hear less and less from the bullies at school.  In fact, many of the kids began to 'like' Jimmy.  By his senior year, Jimmy had become pretty popular and ended up as "most likely to succeed" in the yearbook.  But he didn't let that blindside him.  He knew who his one true friend was.

Graduation came and went and Jimmy went on to be a world famous fisherman.  He fished anywhere from the swamps to the deep seas.  He made TV shows and starred in commercials. He had his very own trophy room in his custom-built home on his 20 acres of lake front property. 

Both boys settled down and had families and their weekends at the lake together became rare.  But Jimmy never forgot about the little boy at the lake who was too afraid to admit his fears.  And he would always be grateful to the person who saw the value in him and cared enough to help instill in him the self-worth he carries to this day.  

Sometimes it's the smallest of things in life that can mean the most to a persons' self-worth. 

The Dirty Offering

One day Jesus was strolling down a tiny street in Manhattan when he came upon an orphanage.  It was one of his favorite places to visit when he made his trips to Earth.  Seeing his children always put a smile in His heart.  Most people took Jesus as a homeless man, but the children always knew who He really was. 

Like always, the children ran to greet him at the door.  Jesus was showered with hugs and kisses from the boys and girls.  Jesus’ laughter filled the large room and traveled up the staircase where a young boy, about 13 years old, sat with his hands cupped on his chin and elbows on his knees.  He was crying and Jesus could feel the hurt in his heart. 

Jesus returned all the hugs and kisses and sent the children on to play.  He walked up the stairs to sit with the sad young man.  Jesus noticed the discerning look on the boy’s face and the sadness in his eyes.  The boy hung his head down and let out a sad sigh.  “Jesus” whispered the boy, “my hands and feet are dirty.  My hair is greasy and matted.  I don’t have on new clothes and my socks are filled with holes.  I wish there was some way I could please you, but I just don’t think it’s possible.  I am worthless.”  And a tear rolled down the boy’s cheek. 

Jesus, in all His compassion, sat down next to the boy and smiled.  “What a humble heart!  Of all the things this boy has to be concerned about, his main concern is pleasing ME”, He thought.  Jesus’ heart was filled with joy at the boy’s selfless thoughs. 

Jesus put one hand around the boy’s shoulder and said “Walk with me, son.”  So Jesus and the boy walked down stairs and slipped on their jackets and scarves.  Jesus took the boy down one of his favorite streets.  It was not filled with beautiful scenery or big parks with people walking their dogs or playing with their children.  This street was dark and neglected.  Homeless men and women sat on the streets begging for change.  Trash littered the sidewalks and the smell was horrible.  The boy clung to Jesus’ waist and Jesus kept his arm tight around the boy’s shoulder. 

As they walked, Jesus reached into his pocket of his overcoat and pulled out a dirty, wrinkled dollar bill.  “Do you see this dollar?”

“Yes” sniffled the boy as he wiped a tear from his cheek. 

“This dollar was given by an humble servant in a church offering.  It’s not new, in fact, it’s filthy.   In 1978 this dollar was a crisp, brand new bill.  But once it began its life of being passed from person to person it lost its cleanliness and purity. 

The boy listened intently to what Jesus had to say. 

“You see, Son, this dollar has the traces of drugs on it from when it was used in countless drug deals.  There are blood stains and other bodily fluids on it from more than one different occasion and many different people.  It's been stepped on, stuffed in wallet after wallet and pocket after pocket.  Hundreds of thousands of people have shared germs with this dollar.  It has carried viruses all around the world.  It's faded and has several rips around it's edges."  

“I don’t understand, Jesus.  What does that dollar have to do with me?” asked the boy.

“You see my child, although, this dollar has been used and abused, it was still placed in an offering plate as a gift to God.  Then it went on its way to a children’s orphanage, one I hold dear to my heart.  There, it helped pay for food and clothing for homeless children.  Because of that donation, one of those children from that orphanage will eventually have a life-changing experience and will spread my Gospel to many, many people.” 

The boy began to understand.  He stopped and sat down on a bench to let the information sink into his head.  “You mean, this dollar went on to do your work, regardless of how dirty it was?”

“Yes”, replied Jesus as He sat down next to the boy.   “But you see, my child, unlike this dollar, it's not your outward appearance that I see in you.  It is what is on your heart.”

“No matter what you’ve done or where you’ve been, there is always a place for you to do God’s work.  In fact, some of the “dirtiest dollars” can turn out to help with the most marvelous of miracles.’ 

That day, at that very moment on the bench down a dirty street, was the day that the boy accepted Christ as his Savior.  That was the day he had become cleaner than he had ever been before. 

The boy hugged Jesus and thanked Him for loving him despite his past and despite his appearance.  At that moment the boy decided to spread the word of God throughout the orphanage and that’s exactly what he did everyday. 

Years have passed and the boy was never placed in a home.  He never had parents or siblings or grandparents to visit.  But what he did have was grander than anything here on Earth.  He had the Gift of God and the ability to continue to spread the word farther than the walls of the orphanage.  He shared the story of the dirty dollar to hundreds of people around the world and told of the free cleansing offered by Jesus.  Everyday since then, he’s always carried that dirty, old dollar in his pocket to remind him of the day that Jesus cleaned his heart.  And, although, Jesus didn't need the help of the dollar to cleanse the boy of his sins, it was a useful tool in helping the boy understand the true value of God's children. 

The True Meaning of Family

As children many of us grew up watching classic Disney movies.  One of my favorites then (and to this day) is "The Jungle Book".  We look at this as a silly story of talking panthers, dancing bears and one stubborn little man cub.  But I think there is more to this story than what meets the eye.

Mowgli begins his life as a lost infant of the dangerous rainforest.  He has been left with no way to survive.  No one to feed him, change him, clothe him or nurture him.  He is completely and utterly helpless.  But then, just as it seems all hope is lost, an unlikely hero steps in, Bageera the Panther.

Naturally, Mowgli would be a special snack for the panter, but something inside the panther causes him to look differently at this man cub.  Something starts to pull at his heart strings and he begins to feel a feeling of compassion for what would eventually become an enemy of the forest. 

Knowing that a panther couldn't raise the infant and provide the best care, he does what he thinks is right and finds a loving, caring home that can provide this baby with everything he needs.  The man cub grows up and becomes a very vivatious and agile jungle creature.  Mowgli was not apart of the jungle naturally, but he adapted and eventually did become apart.  It was his home.  He had a family not only of parents and siblings but of friends who loved and cared for him and was even willing to DIE for him. 

This is the ultimate story of family.  Mowgli had nothing physically in common with his pack of wolves or with monkeys or panthers or bears.  But what he did have was a common bond of true love and loyalty.  Family is not necessarily the people who share your DNA.  Family is a close bond you have with a group of people.  Your family are the people you share memories with.  Who laugh when you laugh and cry when you cry.  Who pray when you're down and praise when you're up.  They are the ones who will not sugar coat things when you're making tough decisions.  Your family will show tough love when it's needed for your benefit.  They do it because they care about you. 

No matter what you do or how you decide to chose to live your life your family will always be your family.  And there isn't a single thing you can do that will ever change that. 

So while you only have a short time on this earth I suggest you hold tight to those who are closest, make more memories of the ones that you cherish and forgive those who have done you wrong because in the end of it all when you're old and gray it will be your family you will want to surround you when you're ready to pass away.

One Manic Monday

Yesterday as my family and I were traveling back to Houston from San Antonio we made a pit stop in Sealy, TX; about half way through.  We all needed to stretch and go to the restroom and I needed a couple of items so we decided to stop at Wal-Greens.  As we were struggling to find our shoes and put them on in the vast amount of travel pillows, blankets, games and other odds and ends my phone rang.  Now, usually I wouldn't have answered it, I would've waited until I wasn't busy and call the number back.  However, I knew I needed to talk to the person so I answered the phone. 

I walked into wal-greens (while on my phone) not paying a bit of attention to what I was doing and managed to leave my purse on the photo center counter.  To make a long story short, we got home that evening around 7 pm.  I realized my purse was missing a little after 8 pm.  We searched frantically around the house.  I called Wal-Greens twice and eventually notified the Sealy police.  Nothing.

The problem lied in the fact that the very next day I was to train with a new job as a bus driver.  I couldn't very well do that with out my liscence and my certificate stating that I am drug-free both which were in my wallet...in my purse. And to top that off, I am the only person that can open the day care center I work at and without my purse, I have no keys to open the center OR to drive my truck. I had realized all of the inconveniences this had cause for not only me but those around me I was becoming frantic with worry.

I was SO SURE that I hadn't taken my purse into the Wal-Greens and I was pretty certain that someone had stolen it.  Just took it right out of the truck.  I then became angry and frustrated.  I got myself so worked up over this imaginary thief that I couldn't even sleep. 

The next day was not a very good one.  I made a list of all the things I was going to have to do.  1. Go to the DPS office and get a new commercial liscence for my new job.  2.  Go to the social security office to get a new SS card for myself and my son.  3.  Get a copy of a house key and a key to my truck.  4.  Get another copy of my drug testing certificate.

I was eat up in the fact that I was going to have to take a full day of work off to accomplish all of these tasks.  The irony behind all the worry is that I was also praying.  Now, to pray and worry at the same time is a slight insinuation of God not going to take care of whatever it is your praying for.  In other words...too little faith. 

Well, I decided to call Wal-Greens one more time just to make sure nothing had been turned in.  By now, I was completely prepared to hear "no ma'am, I'm sorry, no one has turned it in" again.  However, to my GREAT surprise, the lady on the other end of the phone asked me to describe the purse.  I gave her the description and she said "Yep, that's the one."  I was so extatic!  I had everything I needed to make it through the next day.  A weight had been lifted from my chest.  I felt like I could breathe!

I said a silent prayer of thanks and also of apologies for not giving God the full amount of faith He deserved.  As I was driving down the road only 30 minutes after finding out my purse was ok, I drove past a flock of PARROTS!  Yeah, green and orange and yellow PARROTS in the middle of Deer Park TX.  There had to have been 8 or 9 of them.  They were all on the ground pecking at some seeds and bugs. I had never in my life seen wild parrots in TX.....ever.  It was like God saying "Do I have your attention NOW?" 

And at that very moment I realized what God was telling me.  It was so loud and so clear that I knew I couldn't miss this message.  He said:  "Kori, why do you worry about so many little things?  Don't you know that I am capable of providing for the birds....birds that are not even native to this region?  Don't you know that I love you and care for you more than these tiny creatures?  When you worry it demeans me.  It tells me that you really don't think I can or will handle this situation.  Know that I love you and don't want you to worry about what tomorrow will bring....that's MY job.

Girls, we tend to worry more about anything and everything.  When you find yourself sick over worry (as I was) ask yourself one little question:  In the end, is the worry worth it?  And generally the answer is "NO!".

The Old Man

I sat alone in the local coffee shop hoping to find a little peace and serenity. Something about the aroma of coffee puts my mind at ease.  My small booth sat in a dim corner facing the semi-busy little shop.  The thick, dark-red drapes that hung elegantly across the way blended so well with all the brown shades of the coffee decor.  Each table had been meticulously placed to create a private area for each customer.  The sales counter was stocked with a variety of chocolate treats and on each end of the counters sat large barrels of coffee beans.  Such an enticing area.  A soft saxophone melody filled my ear as I sat lost in random, meaningless thought.

The ringing of the front door bell threw me back into reality as it announced the next customer's arrival.  He was an elderly man.  And by the looks of him, not in very good health.  His broad shoulders slightly slumped forward and he carried a round belly that hung over his belt.  His steps were careful as if he walked in pain.  He was in no hurry; had nowhere he needed to be.  I studied this man more carefully as he approached the counter.  His skin looked rough and dark like a rhinos' armour.  Tattoos of his former military days hung down from under the sleeves of his shirt.  I took careful notice of the scars on his hands and face.  The wedding band on his finger had long ago lost it's shine.  His expression was hard and his mouth seemed to have a permanent frown.  The old man turned his head far enough so that I could get a glimpse of his eyes and to my surprise I saw something unexpected.  I didn't see anger or bitterness like I thought I would find, but instead I saw a hint of sadness; of longing and maybe even loneliness. 

I felt God leading me to say something to him.  "But what, God", I thought.  What do I have to say to a man three times my age?  He knows more about life than I could even begin to tell him."  So I sat and drank my coffee and tried to ignore this task God had given me.  As hard as I tried, I simply could not get back to my place of peace.  I kept thinking of excuse after excuse as to why I couldn't (and probably shouldn't) speak to this stranger.  "He probably is hard of hearing so what's the point.  Maybe I'll offend him and I wouldn't want to be disrespectful to my elders."  But God still kept whispering "Go to him." 

I guess I sat still too long because I didn't have to go to him at all.  Of all the empty tables in the shop this elderly gentleman chose to sit at the only table next to me.  "Go figure", I thought.  And with a polite semi-smile and a nod of my head I greeted the man with a ginger lift of my fingers, not really taking my hand off from around my cup to give a full wave, and looked back down into my coffee.  He responded with a nod of his head as he drank the first sip of his coffee. 

It wasn't long until the awkward silence was broken when the man cleared his throat and began to speak.  He looked down into his cup and with a harsh, smoker's voice said, "I don't know why I'm here, but for some reason I just felt like having a cup of coffee in the middle of the afternoon.  Not something I would normally do."  And he gave a slight chuckle.  "Ah, no better time like the present" I responded in cordial conversation.  More awkward silence lingered in the air between our tables.  He slowly ran his unsteady finger around the rim of his cup and the sadness in his face seemed to grow.

  "Are you from this area?  Don't think I've seen you around before?"  I asked, desperate to break the odd silence.  He sat quietly for a few seconds, starring into his coffee.  He seemed to be thinking about how he should answer.  His thick, white eyebrows came down over his eyes and a single tear rolled down his cheek.  "No" he answered still looking into his coffee. "No I'm not from around here.  I...uh....I came into town for some...uh...personal business."  And he wiped away his tear. 

"Gees", I thought.  "This guys having a tough time."  I didn't know what to say.  I've never seen an old man cry.  And as if God himself opened my mouth, without even thinking I said "Sir, I hate to be intrusive, but is there something you want to talk about?"  As if he had been waiting for years for someone, anyone, to ask that very question, he immediately began to speak. 

Tears filled both of his eyes and rolled uncontrollably down his cheeks.  His large, wrinkled fingers brushed tears off his face and he reminded me of an innocent little child. Chills ran throughout my body as he spoke, "I buried my daughter today."  He stopped for a while to let that statement sink in; tears still flooding his face. "I haven't really said it out loud yet."  He took out his hankerchief and began to wipe away his tears and continued, "I think she was 52.  I'm not really sure how old she was.  To tell you the truth, I don't really know anything about her. She was 6 when I left."  He stopped for a moment to clear his face from all the tears.  "I met my grand kids at her funeral.  Two of the sweetest young ladies I've ever met."  The old man blew his nose and wiped away more tears.  My heart broke into a thousand pieces for this man.  The guilt and sorrow he has carried for decades has brought this man to his knees right in front of my very eyes!

"You see", he continued,  "I took a wrong turn several years ago and left my family.  I thought I had more important things to do.  I turned my back on everything God had given me. I divorced my wife after 15 years of marriage.  She never said anything hateful towards me, even when I gave her the divorce papers; she just cried.  She told me she would pray for me and I knew that she meant it.  Never once did she remarry after I left.  I broke her heart and I knew it, but I was too self-centered to care."  The old man stopped for a bit to gain control of his emotions.  "The regret I have carried for over 40 years has become heavy."  I lost the love of my life. I lost my daughter.  But more importantly, in the attempt to find myself, I ended up loosing myself."  The old man grew quiet as he dried his face and dobbed the last of his tears.  God told me to keep my mouth shut, so I did.  The old man took a sip of his coffee and continued on with his story.  "She died about 10 years ago.  I started wearing my wedding band again after that.  I guess I felt like I owed it to her."  The old man turned his wedding band back & forth around his finger and let out an unsteady sigh.

The cup of coffee sitting on my table didn't seem so important now.  I sat, fixated on every story this man had to tell me. I hung on every word and felt every emotion.  All the appointments and obligations I had for that day became obsolete.  The old man & I sat for hours as he talked and as I listened.  He certainly lived a full life.  I heard more stories about his past mistakes and regrets, but he also told stories of  WWII and the Great Depression that I would've never heard on any history channel or read in a history book.  We had some good laughs in our conversation.  He described the roaring 20s like nothing I'd ever heard before.  He smiled as he told me about his first car. It was a 1925 model car that I had never heard of.  I looked at the old man as he spoke and I realized that God never intended me to go to him, but instead, God had sent him to speak to me. 

The sun was setting outside our coffee shop window.  Both of our coffees had lost their steam.  The old man apologized for keeping me and thanked me for listening to him.  We exchanged names and as he stood up he shook my hand.  Before he walked away he held my left hand in his, and put his index finger firmly on my wedding band.  With a solid look into my eyes and in a steady tone he said "Don't let this get away from you.  One day he might just be all you have left."  And with that, he slowly shuffled his way out the door. 

I sat stunned for a few seconds as the bell on the shop door rang at his exit.  I realized then that my priorities had just been changed.  My life was saved without me realizing it needed saving. I haven't lived the same since.  And not a day goes by that I don't think about the old man in the coffee shop and thank my God for using his life to change mine.

The Big Game

It's a crisp autumn evening under the Friday night lights.  You're dressed in your favorite team sweater & sitting comfortably in your portable bleacher seat.  The concession stand and restroom stops have already been made.  You are prepared to sit through this game with no interruptions for tonight your hometown high school football team will battle, head-on, against your decades old rival.  The stadium is packed and the sounds of camaraderie from your friends and heckling from your foes fills the night air.  Three minutes until kick-off.  The sounds of the players in their huddle, the referees commencing and the cheerleaders cheering gets your blood is pumping; adrenaline flowing.  This is it.  This is the game of the year.  One minute until kick-off.  The pride you have for your team makes your heart swell.  As the clock starts and the whistles blow you find yourself in a perfect place in this world.  Happy.  Content.  You would say anything and do most anything to defend your team against anyone right in this moment.  After all this is your team.  The game starts with cheers and praise from both sides of the stadium.  The opponent receives the ball and the game starts to go bad for your team at the very beginning.  Every tackle and every bad call feels like a personal  offense against you.  The tension builds against your rival as you watch them carry out planned schemes against your team.  A slight feeling of hatred slips into your very being.  Anger rages through your body at the next bad call and you find yourself amongst the crowd screaming in defense of your team.   The desire for victory is so coveted that you will do anything in your power to achieve it.  Even if it is just to cheer from the stands. 

Isn't this a lot like our spiritual life?  God loves us so much that we make His heart swell with pride.  We are His team.  He looks down at us and is happy.  Everyday we start a new game and he cheers for us.  Most days we don't hear Him.  Maybe we've become so overpowered by the opponent that we've lost our focus on the one who's rooting for us. The very opponent that makes God lower his brow.  Every time temptation is thrown our way it is a personal offense against God our Father and it makes him angry.

The good thing for us is that He would do anything to help us achieve victory and he is capable of doing more than just sit on the sideline.  He left the stadium and joined us on the field.  He put himself in the midst of the battle and died.  However, his death was not a defeat.  No, this was our victory.  We have already won the game.  All we have to do is realize that He is on our side and is still rooting for us.

My Little Box

When I was a teenager (just over 10 years ago) my parents placed me in a box. This box contained 4 walls called bounderies.  The walls were made of a very tough material and took years and years to construct and maintain.  They designed these walls through tough love, hard work, consistant living and prayer. 

When my mid-teen years hit, I tested these walls.  I tried again and again to step over them but each time I got close to the walls they would love me right back to where I needed to be.  Several times I did manage to overstep those boundaries but my parents  placed me back into the box with the walls.  Sometimes they placed me gently, but sometimes (due to my own actions) they had to be forceful.

I hated my box.  I wanted so desperately to get out of my box and join the other kids at the mall or at a party or my boyfriend's house.  I wanted to fit in and be somebody.  But little did I know then that I already was somebody and that this dreadful box was creating somebody better.  I was being transformed into a shallow-minded teenager into a successful member of society. 

I am 29 years old now.  Due to my box I have learned how to make decisions.  I have learned how to make a mistake and learn from it.  I know now how to be a devoted wife and a stable parent.  I know how to hold a job and to take on leadership responsibilities.  I know how to be strong and stand up for things I believe in and stand up for those I love.

I am a God-fearing woman.  I hold daily conversations with the Lord Almighty.  I thank Him often for the boundaries I was given.  If it were not for those boundaries and the sweat it took from my parents to keep me within those boundaries I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that my life would not be what it is today. 

I have 3 children.  And I am building boxes.  I know how hard it will be to keep my kids inside these walls.  But I will fight for my kids just as my parents fought for me.  And I am aware that sometimes I will have to fight with them if it means to fight for them. 

Proud to be an American?

It's not often that I get angry.  But I'm angry now.  I am angry at society.  Just this past week we've cut the jobs our teachers and are now looking at our firefighters & police officers.  Guns in elementary schools, knife fights in middle schools, pregnancy in high schools, children are being allowed to sit during the pledge, and so much more.

I have worked in the child care industry for almost a decade.  Nine years ago I didn't have an issue with respect like I do now.  It surprises me that kids now-a-days have no idea what it means to say ma'am or sir.  They are bold and a lot (not all) have a strong sense of entitlement. 

I have strange men posted on my wall so that we can identify the 4 sexual predators within the 2 mile radius of our house.  My children had to be taught that there are men that look for children to hurt and I coudn't answer their "why" question. 

Inmates get free counceling and college courses.  I have had such a hard time getting to school myself because I'm terrified of the cost!  And how much is counceling now?  Wow.  What would happen to the divorce rate if it didn't cost an arm & a leg to get a good marriage councelor. 

And speaking of divorce...If you're looking for a quick divorce go to Wal-Mart & you can get software to download all the paperwork you need for a surprisingly low cost.  Glad they made that convenient.  Or why not just take the 'trouble' out of it all and just not get married.  Just live together it's the same thing, right?  (Please sense my sarcasm). 

And how 'bout them polititians?  Huh?  How many volunteered to forfeit their paychecks while debating on taking from our soldiers?  One.  Uno. That's it.  Just one. I would write a book if I commented anymore on this issue.

One of my favorite things to do as a kid was to sit in the living room around evening time and watch TV with the family.  There's not a single thing that is kid-appropriate after Wheel of Fortune.  There are cuss words in commercials and in the titles of the shows.  Sexually explicit inuindos and bloody crime scenes flood our TV screens. 

I will always always be proud to be an American.  I love my veteran.  I have many family members in the military both active and veterans.  I still cry when I hear the National Anthem, I smile when I see a flag waving in the wind.  I turn my radio up when I hear Lee Greenwood sing "Proud to be an American".   But there are things that happen in America that just make me mad.  I am fearful for my children and wonder what kind of future we are raising.  If we're so corrupt and full of non sense now, how will it be in 20 years?  It's a scarry thought.

Me?

Who am I?  That's a question I find myself asking myself often.  I have  many titles: wife, mom, daughter, sister, friend, Christian, childcare worker just to name a few.  But do those things really describe who I am?  What I think or feel?  I'm realizing there's a whole 'nother part of me that I've kept burried deep under all these titles.  I have opinions; opinions that just might tick some people off.  Opinions that I've hesitated to release from the depths of my insides just to 'keep the peace' or so I wouldn't 'rock the boat'.  Truth is, I don't deal well with confrontation.  I'm not witty or quick on my feet to think during a debate nor do I want to hurt anybody's feelings.  So what do I do?  I just tuck it all inside and just keep telling myself 'it doesn't matter'.  That 'it doesn't matter' attitude eventually turns into 'I don't matter'.  And when I feel like I don't matter then all of the titles & jobs that I hold dear begin to fall to the wayside.  I don't make the greatest decisions.  Why should I?  After all...I don't matter, right?  Wrong!  I want to be the best mom, the best wife, the best everything I am that I can be.  Ladies & Gentlemen....it's time to matter.