I am watching the release of three young women from captivity. The first of the hostages released in the ceasefire deal between Israel and Gaza.
The newscaster comes on and says…the mothers of the three women will be there at the point of release. Suddenly I am overcome with emotion. I try to repeat what he said and I am so choked up I am unable to speak.
Who do they want the most when they are delivered from the hell after 471 days?
Only their mother, their mom, their mum, their Eema. If only for a moment, only she can bring them to a place of peace. Only she can reassure them, hold them so close that they can hear her heart beat. The first heart they heard while still in the womb. Her heart.
I am praying that at the sound of their Eema’s heart they will be overwhelmed with a sense of tranquility that takes them back to the place of security and protection. A time where they knew no horrors, terror or fear.
In their Eema’s heart they knew only love.
“Hebrew media reports that the IDF has asked the mothers of the three hostages to come to a meeting point at a base next to the Gaza border. From there they are to accompany their daughters as they are taken to the hospital.” The Times of Israel, January 19, 2025
Eema (pronounced EE-muh): Mother; mom; Website: My Jewish Learning
The Lord’s acts of mercy indeed do not end, For His compassions do not fail. They are new every morning; Great is Your faithfulness. Lamentations 3:22-23 NAS
This year, as in many others, I have spent the past few days reflecting on the past twelve months… its joys and sorrows.
The highlight of my year was in May when Chris and I went to South Africa on a trip with his college buddies and their wives. I was a little apprehensive about the trip, not knowing anyone, but in the end I formed some awesome friendships.
The country of South Africa was so beautiful, the wildlife, the scenery, the people, the history, it was all an awe inspiring experience. So amazing I can’t believe I didn’t write about it. I did upload photos and some narratives as we travelled on my photo blog.
Part of the reason I didn’t write about my trip as soon as I returned, was because I was instantly plunged into a healthcare issue. I required surgery within only a few weeks that consumed all my time, concentration and energy. Thankfully everything was sorted out with surgery and a few months of recovery time.
In September, I made a whirl wind trip to Texas starting in Austin. I visited my cousin Debbie in a nursing facility. I saw her daughter my 1st cousin once removed and her new baby (1st cousin twice removed). I had lunch with my friend Debbie just south of Austin. Then, I drove 170 miles to an area just outside of Houston.
That evening I had a lovely dinner on the shores of Lake Conroe with a lady who worked with me 26 years ago. It was warm night and so relaxing listening to the water lapping against the rocks. We laughed and shared stories together as if no time at all had passed.
The next morning I got up and met my niece for breakfast along with her mom and my three grand nieces. After breakfast, I drove north and stopped in Centerville for quick visit with a childhood friend. Finally, made my way to Corsicana to see my sister.
Paulette and I spent several days catching up and visiting friends and family. Together we completed a long overdue task at mother’s grave. After having driven over 600 miles in a week, I drove to Dallas and flew home. It was a full busy trip. I got home tired but with a heart full of love.
Sadly the review of every year ends with memories of those we lost. The most tragic loss for us was in November when 17-year-old son of a dear friend drowned. Hard to accept and understand why someone dies so young.
Additionally, in the past month, two friends and my sweet cousin, Debbie, passed away. I am so thankful I had that visit with her in September.
For the past several years, at the new year, I read the poem God Knows. A poem written by Minnie Louise Haskins in 1908. More about the poem and my thoughts in this blog post from 2020.
This is the end, and tomorrow I begin again looking ahead to 2025. I do so heeding the guidance given by Ms. Haskins.
“AndI said to the man who stood at the gate of the year: “Give me a light that I may tread safely into the unknown.”
And he replied: “Go out into the darkness and put your hand into the Hand of God. That shall be to you better than light and safer than a known way.”
So I went forth, and finding the Hand of God, trod gladly into the night.
And He led me towards the hills and the breaking of day in the lone East.
So heart be still: What need our little life Our human life to know, If God hath comprehension? In all the dizzy strife Of things both high and low, God hideth His intention.
God knows. His will Is best. The stretch of years Which wind ahead, so dim To our imperfect vision, Are clear to God. Our fears Are premature; In Him, All time hath full provision.
Then rest: until God moves to lift the veil From our impatient eyes, When, as the sweeter features Of Life’s stern face we hail, Fair beyond all surmise God’s thought around His creatures Our mind shall fill.
I am down tonight, it has been building for weeks but tonight I feel it intensely. It is a combination of many things.
The first week in November, the 17 year old son of a close friend died in a drowning accident.
He was a bright, kind, and joyful child. In his obituary his parents wrote;
“He will be remembered for his unmitigated joyfulness, his natural curiosity, and his wholehearted enthusiasm. He lived fully. In his seventeen years of life, he traveled extensively and visited many places including Belize, the Galapagos Islands, Fiji, New Zealand, and Samoa. He enjoyed exploring and experiencing the world… He loved camping and felt at home sleeping under the stars. He could be found cooking homemade meals for his family, teaching himself to play the piano, or gaming with friends. He did not squander his life. He stepped into it with a big smile and his wonderful curly hair, awake and wholehearted.”
No doubt many have heard, “No parent should ever have to bury their child.” It is true.
Secondly, my son who has been battling IBD and autoimmune pancreatitis for 14 years has been in the hospital for a month. He came home today, but he is not well.
He was equally a charming child. He had a magical childhood as well. He traveled the world with us. He raised chickens (they were his pets), then he became interested in aquaculture. He formed a website for the reef community at 14, he started a computer cloud company at 20. He had a bright and promising future when IBD reared its ugly head. At 22, his colon perforated while he was in the hospital. He was bleeding internally. After 3 surgeries and 8 weeks in hospital he came home. A year later he nearly bled to death after a scope procedure and biopsy. Then year after year it seems the problems just piled on.
Today he is on a lot of medication, he’s in a lot of pain, and it seems the medical community has given up on helping him. It’s incredibly sad when you have to fight a disease and you have to fight the medical community too.
I have prayed so many prayers for my son. The other day I pleaded with God, I asked, what is the answer? Is there anybody that can help him? So far the answers have not come.
Added to this, I got a call this morning that my cousin died. I just saw her in September. She was five years older than me in the last 15 or so years we reconnected and became closer. She was beautiful, she was intelligent, loving and kind.
She was a RN and with continuing education, got her masters degree. She worked for years at the VA hospital in Albuquerque as a counselor.
Sadly, several years ago, she was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s and declined very quickly.
When I saw her in September, she was unable to carry on a conversation. When I arrived, she looked up at me and smiled. I said to her, “Hi Debbie, it’s your cousin, Trish” She looks straight at me and replied, “I know.” That was the most comprehendible conversation we had that day.
I asked her to take a picture before I left. I held up the phone and smiled to take a selfie. She leaned her head over to touch mine and shut her eyes.
I am forever grateful for the visit that day. When I got home in Washington, I reflected on my visit with her. I felt she would grieve if she understood, she would not want to live that way. I told my husband I never want to live that way. Just existing with all dignity and autonomy lost.
Finally, it is winter. It is dark, dreary and cold outside. I feel dark, dreary and cold inside.
A slowly brewing state of grief, downheartedness, and sorrow in my soul.
Praying this season in my soul passes quickly. When winter is over I pray I will see and feel the new hope of spring.
GRATITUDE: “If you concentrate on finding whatever is good in every situation, you will discover that your life will suddenly be filled with gratitude, a feeling that nurtures the soul.” — Rabbi Harold Kushner
Looking back through the history of just my life, I am wondering if I can find good in every situation? This is a tall order. It cannot be done with my own power but only by endeavoring to see it through the lens of God’s eyes.
Yes, there were hardships and obstacles that dominated my youth but they helped form who I am today. In many ways I think those experiences help me look at others who struggle with a compassionate heart and less of a judging mindset.
In the bigger picture of things I AM SO BLESSED. I really have nothing to complain about, yet I do complain. Praying my grumbles are be at a minimum today.
My little town again… On Facebook there is a page called North Bend Rants and Raves. For weeks now people have been posting about the elections, calling each other names, making accusations about each other because of their political choices and generally spreading vitriol and hate.
I made a post where I said I was shattered because it seems civility and respect are dead. I linked a message from my blog with a verse that I wrote about hate and how it spreads. In the blog post, I mention my belief in God and how I believe ultimately God is in control. Two bible verses about hate were also quoted.
The post was up for a couple of days when one of the “moderators,” Jake, said it seemed like my post should been my personal page because it just about “god.” So I comment back that it was a rant about Hate in our community.
Within hours, my post was removed. So I made a new post that said something like this; Rant:You’re free to post here and spread any vitriol you want about anything and anyone, including your neighbors unless you mention God. I don’t have the exact wording because that post was blocked.
So the only rules on the page are: “This is a forum where you are welcome to post complaints and compliments about life in North Bend. Post freely, but don’t be an a-hole.”
I don’t think I was being an “a-hole.”
All I wanted to say was that after this election, we are all neighbors in the same community and we should respect each other’s views. Everyone’s views are formed by their life experiences and their perception of the world we live in. Our views do not make any of us more right than the others. In the end, I hope we can all come together and live as a community whatever the outcome.
I’ve thought about this for the past few days and I sadly have come to believe that my post, with the mere mention of God, was not something this moderator could accept. Even sadder, the only thing worse that saying something positive about Trump is supporting the belief in God.
I’d like to think that in seven days it will all be over, but I fear not because this divisiveness has been building for years and it may be too late to turn it around.
I still believe God is in control and I am thankful I can still say it here without fear of censorship.
Today is officially mine and Chris’s 41st anniversary. Honestly, I cannot comprehend how time has flown by so quickly. When we were first married there were people making bets that it wouldn’t last a year. Well, we just had to prove them wrong! Tovah Feldshuh, American actress, singer and playwright gave this advice on marriage, “You know how to have a successful marriage? Shut one eye, and don’t leave. Some of it’s fun and some of it isn’t. It can be challenging, but you do not leave the field of play.” We are still on the field and here is the rest of the story.
I met Chris at work in August 1982. I was going through a divorce and started a new job at International Ground Support Systems in Denver. They did underground engineering consulting. It was a small company with three engineers, a welder, and two laborers. Chris was one of the engineers and when I started, he was working on a job in Cape Breton Island, Nova Scotia. He would check into the office daily, so we really met over the phone first. He, as anyone that knows him appreciates, is very out going and friendly and he has a great British accent. So naturally, I was instantly curious about this guy.
I had worked there about a month when Chris returned from Canada. The business was in a large metal warehouse and the front part was in a sectioned off into offices. I was in a small cubicle near the door with big windows to the outside and a small reception window inside. The first time I saw him, he came bounding through the front doors. He stopped at the reception window and poked his head through to introduce himself. He looked like he had been on an all night binge. He was disheveled, his clothes were wrinkled and when he smiled it revealed two missing teeth. NOT A ALL HOW I IMAGINED HIM! After he left I thought …hmm, maybe we could be good friends.
I don’t know exactly when my perception changed, but his charm did win me over. I know we were a couple by Thanksgiving because we had a big dinner at his house. There was a small issue though, and it was that technically, Chris was still married.
His English wife had left and gone back to England three years prior when he moved from Virginia to Denver. They had not been in contact for quite a while. Chris wanted to get married but had to locate her and somehow negotiate a long-distance divorce.
I still tease him because at one point he suggested we just get married because no one would know or care. Obviously this was before the internet and everyone’s personal life can be researched worldwide. I politely declined. I told him I did not want someone coming twenty years later and claiming everything and besides that was just wrong and downright illegal!
It did take a while but we were married a year later. I have to say that British charm and accent has opened many doors for Chris. When Josh was little he’d go to the store with Chris and come back to tell me that the lady at the store was flirting with daddy. He’d relate that the lady would say, “Ohhh… I do love your accent.” Seriously, it still happens all the time!
Yeah, the accent and charm may have drawn me in to start with but it is his intelligence, later his faith, his love and the care he gave to me and my kids, his generosity and his passion for helping others that has kept me in love with him. All those physical things I judged him by at first where just temporary surface distractions. Chris has been a loving and devoted husband and we have stayed faithful through the good times and the bad.
My most treasured Valentine card from him wasn’t a card at all but a letter that ends this way…
Slowly, many we love leave us. Then one day we wake up and our dearest is gone too. “That come the twilight should we lose our way If as we’re walking a hand should slip free I’ll wait for you, Should I fall behind Wait for me….” [1] But having loved, we are not alone. We still talk to one another however one cannot hear the answers. At least not out loud. If we look around, we see the signs that, once known, love never dies.
Birthdays, to date, I have had 69. Strangely enough, I don’t remember, not even one from my childhood.
I don’t remember my 21st birthday. At the time I lived in Anchorage, AK, and I had two children. I know I didn’t go out and have the first “legal drink” because I rarely drank alcohol until I was in my fifties.
At 30, all I care to remember is that it was a very sad day. On this birthday, I had been living in Washington State for a little over a year. I had moved here with Chris just months after we married. I thought it would be a new and exciting change for me. I always dreamed of Seattle and thought it must be a magical place from watching the 60’s TV show, “Here Come the Brides.”
The alluring theme song just made me want to go there and see for myself. “ The bluest skies you’ve ever seen in Seattle, And the hills the greenest green in Seattle. Like a beautiful child growing up free and wild Full of hopes and full of fears Full of laughter full of tears Full of dreams to last the years in Seattle.”
I came here with lots of dreams for a full life but just like the song goes there were fears and tears as well.
On my 30th birthday I had a fifteen year old son who was going through his own trials. Hard to be fifteen but being uprooted and moved to a new state compounded those issues. It was hard on both of us.
I had a cake, but it was no celebration. Someone took a picture anyway.
Thirty
Fast forwarding through the next 20 years — I have no recollection at all of any celebrations. But, 50, that was a birthday to remember.
Chris and my friend, Sho, secretly conspired together to give me a wonderful birthday weekend. The day before my birthday, Sho and her partners in crime (Yohanna and Rita) took me out on a long day trip to the Olympic Peninsula. Naturally I became suspicious as the day went on and on. It soon became apparent that we were not headed home and I was not sure what the end game was.
Late in the afternoon we arrived at the Manresa Castle in Port Townsend. The castle was built in 1892 by a local businessman and first mayor of Port Townsend, Charles Eisenbeis. After his death the castle was remained empty for the next 25 years. Then in 1927, it was purchased by the Jesuit priests who used as a training college. In 1968 the building was sold again and converted to a hotel. The hotel is rumored to be haunted but it seems all old hotels have that status.
I was told were going to have a girls weekend not just an outing. When were in the lobby checking in, I looked up and saw Josh, my youngest son. That’s when the surprise unfolded.
Chris had invited many of my friends to a weekend birthday celebration. He reserved rooms for them all (of course with Sho’s help) and organized a catered buffet dinner in the dining room.
Along with Chris and Josh were my older sons, Aaron from Denver and Adam from California. Friends from my church family were there, Jennifer, Karen, Ann, Madeline and Mal, Phil and Carolyn, and Becky and Pat. In addition these social friends, co-workers and neighbors were there: Tony and Jen, George and Julie, Tom and Jean, Howard and Ruth and last but not least, my old friend Jim came up from California.
It was a wonderful evening filled with love from my family and these special people in my life. Several of these lovely people got up and said lots of really sweet and kind things about their relationship with me. It was a very humbling experience.
One thing I found very bizarre about the event was that my two worlds collided that day. My spiritual family/friends and my secular friends were there at the time and the same place. It was really an interesting coming together of people who knew me in very different ways.
Sho gave me a book to write about my day and thoughts on life with each passing birthday. I have to admit I kept it up for a few years, but fell behind. Below is an excerpt from that first entry…
September 2005 – Wow, it’s my 50th birthday! Who would have ever thought, but it must be true about getting up early as you get older because I woke up at 4:30 and couldn’t go back to sleep. I laid awake for a while hoping the old hotel didn’t really have any lost souls wandering around. That thought passed quick enough as I had to visit the facilities and nothing grabbed me on my way in the dark.
My dear sweet Chrissie did manage to surprise me with a wonderful birthday at Manresa Castle. Not only did he surprise me he managed to get my sons and about 25 of my most favorite people here as well. Done — all with the help of Ms. Shoshana and Ms. Yohanna. Those two fibbers… more like those two lovers of my soul.
While lying awake in bed I said a prayer of thanks for my friends… I should have more faith and trust, all of my friends love me…. and I am truly blessed by their presence here today.
So here I am today at sixty-nine. How did I get here? I feel like I am about 42, and the realization that I will be 70 next year I find hard to comprehend. The years have flipped by faster than pages in a book.
This morning I once again I woke up at 4:30 and thanks to social media my spirits were immediately boosted by dozens of well wishes from family and friends.
In the 19 years since my 50th celebration at Manresa Castle, some of the friends that attended have passed on, others moved on to different towns and states, and several others just moved on. Thankfully, the majority are still in my life. They are still loving me, supporting me and celebrating me.
I imagine next year at 70 there will be some kind of big to-do. Now I’m thinking if you make it to 70, one really should celebrate. After all life is short and we should really celebrate every year God has granted us.
In 1991 Chris was working in Germany for a Redmond, WA based geotechnical company. He was transferred there to open and manage two new companies in Celle just south of Hamburg and in Claustal-Zellerfeld in the Harz Mountains.
When he left early in the year, we had a one year old son and a son just finishing his Junior year in High school. The plan was he would go, get things started, check out high schools and look for a place to live. I stayed behind while we put the house on the market and took care of organizing on this end.
Long story short, the company kept stalling on finalizing the move of our family and after a year of being apart the ultimatum was given ….. move my family here or… “or” won. So he said goodbye to folks in Germany and drove from Germany to London where he caught a flight home.
After successfully starting businesses for someone else in a foreign country, Chris decided to start a company for himself, be his own boss and in charge of his own destiny. His selling point to me was, “Worst case scenario, if it doesn’t work we’ll spend all our savings, and I’ll go out and get another job.”
With that SubTerra was incorporated on August 7, 1991 in our Redmond home. We chose our logo from an old photograph Chris had of the lighthouse at Beachy Head in England near where he grew up. Initially work came at a coal mine near Steamboat Springs, CO; at Yucca Mountain, NV with the nuclear waste disposal program; and abandoned mine reclamation and tunnel design work in WA state. SubTerra Engineering was started in the UK in 1992.
Josh and I travelled with him as he worked around the country, to Colorado, Nevada, Texas, Utah and overseas to the UK and Germany.
In 1995, we purchased a brick house in Kirkland across from Lake Washington where we went through the permitting process and renovations to convert it to an office. We hired an engineer, a geologist and a receptionist. Work for them was closer to home around Washington permitting local gravel pits and mining operations. Chris continued to work all around the country and abroad.
In 1999 we became a dealer for Instantel, a Canadian company that manufactured and sold seismographs for blast monitoring and construction vibrations. We hired another engineer and a technician who worked in the field monitoring at local mines and construction sites.
After several years in Kirkland we moved our offices out of Kirkland to a less crowded location. While we looked for a new permanent home we leased office space in the Preston Office Park just off I90 east of the city. By now we had two engineers, two geologist, two drafters and a receptionist/secretary. Joining this group was our old friend Howard Handewith who had retired from the Robbins Company. He worked part-time on tunnel projects in Singapore and on the Boston Outfall Tunnel project.
In 2000, just 9 years after incorporating we purchased a building in down town North Bend which became our permanent home. The building was built in 1950 and we spent 6 months renovating it and moved in permanently in March of 2001.
Since then North Bend has been our home base. Through all the up and downs of the past thirty-three years, we have seen blessings and trials, when the economy was slow just the right amount of work would walk through the door. In 2009 Chris began pursuing his passion of helping to advance a tunnel/water conduit to revive the Dead Sea project, this lead to opening SubT Engineers in Israel in 2014.
SubT Engineers has completed tunnel projects in Tel Aviv (Subway Redline), in Jerusalem (rock tunnels and blasting), and at other locations in Israel. SubT Engineers is the Licensed Engineer for the KoHav Ha Yarden Pumped Storage project adjacent to the Kinneret / Sea of Galilee and are currently working at Israel’s first Pumped storage Project located at Maale Gilboa (the Heights of Gilboa).
SubTerra, Inc. has now completed over 1,000 projects involving blast consulting, mining rock mechanics, shaft, tunnel and microtunnel design, geotechnical instrumentation, vibration monitoring and expert services for hundreds of clients. We work for owners, contractors, large engineering companies and Federal, State and local municipalities.
Chris continues to travel for work across the US, Europe, UK, The Republic of Georgia, Israel, and Canada. Chris and I have otherwise worked together in this adventure sitting about 20-ft apart for these 33 years.
He is well past the “normal” retirement age but continues his work. He is tireless, positive, sharp and always looking ahead. In addition to his hard work ethic, he serves on the board for a local organization that seeks to aid those in need of assistance and housing.
So after 33 years, we are working with a smaller crew but still working on large projects with other companies. We may have spent all our savings to get started, but this dream Chris had of working for himself, being his own boss, resulted in a successful small business that has done many great things around the world.
My womb A Beautiful form Like a Greek amphora vessel With her thin graceful arms She reaches out to hold Delicate capsules Embracing millions of treasures
Precious pearls Released one by one Month by month Year after year Nearly 40 Each pearl holding The possibility of new life
This womb Like the cycles of the moon Prepared to receive a life And then time and time again In disappointment She shed away the nourishing nest Only to revive it again
She became the cradle That caressed the tiny bodies Of my three sons She was the warm capsule Where they were formed From a single cell Unseen by the world
My womb was a life giver She is the essence Of my feminine She distinguishes me As a woman Present at my birth This vessel that produced life
She came to life in my youth And faded away in my old age We endured the change with grace Though there were days That I cursed her I was in awe of her ability The miracles she brought
Today she became My adversary Within her walls Grows not life but An enemy One that would try To destroy me
Now I must release This beautiful friend She has given me So much Soon I will say goodbye I will grieve for her
They say she’s old She no longer fulfills A purpose Even if that is so I cannot toss her aside As nothing more than tissue Medical waste
She is more She has been The mystery within me Magical Wondrous A masterpiece of God’s creation Divine by Design
My heart Is full of sorrow I don’t want her to leave But it is time I am forever grateful For all the gifts From this Magnificent Vessel
The post below from 11 years ago came up today on my Facebook page. It serves to remind me of a most desperate time in our family’s lives when our youngest son was facing serious health issues caused by Inflammatory Bowel Disease. This was only the first of life threatening events he would face over the next 11 years. Almost one year later to the date he nearly bled to death after a procedure where an arterial vein was accidentally clipped.
My heart begins to beat faster as I read my thoughts from 2013 and I relive the horror of those days. How could someone so young, become so ill, so quickly? It is IBD, and the myriad of other complications and chronic health conditions that sometimes accompany it, and tragically IBD has no cure.
For my son, it is accompanied by auto-immune pancreatitis, which has led to diabetes; the steroids that he has been given over the years to control inflammation have led to bone deterioration; the five different immune suppressing drugs he has worked his way through can all have horrible side effects including cancer. Three of these drugs proved ineffective, one he had an extreme allergic reaction to and we are praying the current one will show some effectiveness.
Eleven years, and sometimes I still think that “from this side it looks like nothing is happening”… He has been hospitalized annually for months at time, with bowel obstructions, bleeding, inflammation, pancreatitis, and sepsis. I have worried, fretted, prayed and pleaded with God. Some days I think he has closed his ears to my prayers.
I think those things, but I don’t believe they are true. I remember examples in the bible of men, men like David, Job and Paul, all men whom God loved and men who honored and loved God; yet they still suffered. Even, after all these years, I still believe God is in control and he has a plan for my son’s life.
May 19 was World IBD Day. It is a day set aside to bring awareness about IBD and to support the 10 million people worldwide that live with this disease. I will continue to pray. I pray for a cure. A cure so no one has to suffer any longer.
June 6, 2013 – For the past few days sitting quietly contemplating the events of the past two weeks, I have tried fitting the pieces into place. Where the huge decision we faced two weeks ago was to commit to the Remicade treatment. How insignificant that decision seems now. Only three days later Josh was facing major surgery and a few days after that a second surgery and then third surgery to control bleeding – to the point his life was in the balance.
When the bleeding started again three days later Josh again was rushed to ICU. There nurse Steve was methodically checking drains, monitoring his heart rate, drawing blood. Inside I was panicking, remembering Friday evening, wondering why they weren’t starting the transfusions because Friday it had taken so long to get the blood it seemed life was ticking away.
I, trying to remain calm, said to Steve, “you know from this side it looks like nothing is happening.”
He reassured me. He said that they had Josh’s blood type on hand, that if he needed they could get it within minutes, that they want to check the hematocrit levels, monitoring the rate of output on the drains, access whether the bleeding was slowing — do things carefully and in timely manner. Make sure every decision is based on the least risk to Josh’s health. In the end, they did give Josh more plasma and blood; and with that the bleeding stopped.
So I’m here thinking about all of these things and I hear my words to Steve: “From this side it looks like nothing is happening.”
I think sometimes I do the same thing with God. I pray about situations, the future, what God’s plans are for my life and sometimes from this side it appears nothing’s is happening; but I understand that even though it appears that nothing is happening, God is in control. He knows all the details of our lives. He knows all the pieces that must fit together perfectly. He knows when we need life sustaining blood and when more extreme intervention is needed. He also knows when we just need to wait as he watches our vitals, checks where we are losing strength and then he refills us.
I may not have a career in the eyes of the world; but I feel my life has touched others in a positive way. I don’t have the need to prove myself to the entire world to show my life has value. My goals and aspirations were sacrificed because of circumstances beyond my control and poor choices made while I was still a child. I believe I was given an above average intelligence by my Maker, and I have benefited from it many times. I have nothing to boast about for my mothering; I’ve made many errors which I often wish I could change. I don’t want to look at what I could have been, but at who I am now; I am thankful for the life God has given me. If my role in life from the world’s point-of-view is that of a peon, then I am even more amazed at the wonders of GOD. My life may not change history, but if I try everyday to live It more like God wants, if I can show a little kindness to someone and help others, I know God will remember me when my life is over. This world offers no rewards… careers in this world are only temporary… I want to spend the rest of my life working at a career which would exemplify Christ’s life My failure at a worldly career is of no consequence to me; my career success is yet to be determined.
Someone ask me recently about who I attended the prom with. As I never went a day of high school, it is an obvious assumption I never went to a prom. I would have graduated in 1974 but left school in March 1970. Up until that point I was a straight A student and really without a lot of effort.
In addition, I have never attended any type of ball or fancy occasion. I have never had an evening gown or even a fancy party dress. I guess I’d have to go on a cruise to need a fancy dress, but you are never going to catch me on a cruise ship either!
So, back to the prom. I contacted one of my childhood friends, who I would have graduated with, to inquire about when the prom was held for the Conroe Tigers class of 1974. Interestingly enough, she told me her and her husband did not go, something about it being too foo-foo. However, she sent out a request on social media and found that prom night was April 27, 1974.
Where was I? I was in Anchorage, Alaska at Elmendorf Air Force Base and I had a 9-day old newborn son. Aaron Kelly was born on Thursday morning, April 18, 1974. Back then was still at a time when we did not know the sex of our babes beforehand. I really, really wanted a daughter and for the slightest moment after he was born, I was maybe a little disappointed but that quickly faded when I held that fair haired infant in my arms.
In May, the class of 1974 will be celebrating 50 years since their graduation but next week, I will help my son, one of the greatest gifts I’ve ever received, celebrate his 50th birthday.
I was only 18 when this very special gift entered my world. Since that first day, he has been a blessing and joy in my life. He has always brought joy to my heart, made me smile, made me proud, made me know I was loved. He served his country and he served over 22 years as a police officer. During that time he saved many lives, rescued abducted teens, sought justice for the elderly and abused, and helped people on one of the worst days of their lives. One day, I believe he will see the results of all the good he did. Although there is no thanks sometimes in this world, my hope is that in the end God will show him all the fruits of his actions. I hope to be there to see them too.
I never experienced the traditional high school teen events and I don’t have a 50th Class Reunion to attend but I am not feeling deprived, I was blessed with a gift that never stopped giving.
I love him and he loves me and that’s the way it will always be.
I have heard it said, “What other people think of you is none of your business.” I suppose that how others remember you, may well be the same. However, I do want to be remembered.
The question is, how? How will I be remembered?
Looking back on my life, I have no doubt some will have negative memories of me. I have negative memories of myself for things that I did or said and regrets over relationships that I walked away from, poor moral judgement, anger that I could not or did not control.
Others, the ones that matter, will hopefully remember that I always let them know that I cared about them and loved them. I have tried to share my blessings with others, be supportive and listen when they deal with the trials of life. Maybe they’d see or remember these things.
I hope they remember me as a person who was an overcomer, that regardless of my rough start in life, I was always striving to improve myself and not let hardships knock me down for long.
Most importantly, I want to be remembered by God. He knows my struggles, my doubts, my failings and the times that I heard His voice and followed His call. I pray I never hear “I never Knew you; depart from me…”1
“Do not remember the sins of my youth or my transgressions; According to Your lovingkindness remember me, For Your goodness’ sake, O Lord.” 2
Thanks to the internet and social media apps like Classmates and Facebook I have reconnected with several school friends. I cannot really say from high school because I never went a day of high school, but I had a few childhood friends that remained in my heart.
The first person I reconnected with was Pattie. In 2006, she was my birthday present as Chris paid for a trip for her to come visit me in Seattle. We rediscovered each other in a whole new light, through adult eyes and not those of a child.
Pattie and I only had a few years to reconnect when sadly she left this earth much too soon. I was heartbroken and shocked… the one friend I had contact with from my broken ugly childhood was gone.
At that time I had been on Classmates for 10 years. In all that time I never heard from anyone, and then the day after I learned that Pattie had died, I got a message.
The next day! I was flooded with love, that someone would remember ME and reach out to ME because I always felt I longed to be friends with others, more than anyone wanted to be friends with ME.
This message was from Muffet. Growing up, she lived in Sunset Ridge a development of brick homes off Hwy 75 outside of Conroe. I lived across the highway in a older wooden house, a house where the walls in my room were not finished and just open studs. Visiting Muffet’s house was like a fantasy experience. She had beautiful white carpet in her bedroom and I would take off my shoes and wriggle my toes in the fibers; her room was a princess-land.
Muffet had beautiful long hair that her mother would braid and roll around in a bun on top of her head. She looked angelic or like she should be picking flowers somewhere in the Swiss Alps. She was lovely inside and out.
Beyond material things, Muffet was a kind, sweet friend that accepted me, this strange girl who was a square peg in a world of round holes.
After that initial note, we began to correspond regularly and later connected on social media. She included me as part of a group that I left at 14, but a group of people I grew up with and often wondered how life changed for them.
She prayed with me for my son through his hard days with surgeries and setbacks. She gave me hope that God can heal as she shared the health crisis she endured with her own child. We were both caretakers for our elderly mothers, she more hands on with hers as she lived close by. Me more administrative with mine although I did make several trip a year to see her.
On one of those trips in 2018, we finally reconnected face to face. The first time since 1969, it was like we never skipped a beat. We spent two hours laughing, sharing and reminiscing. A wonderful cherished time.
So, back to Muffet’s original message in 2009, was it a coincidence she wrote to me at this critical time? Several times in my life I believe God has arranged events and sent people to comfort me and show me his love just when I need it most. No, Muffet’s note and whatever the process was that she found me and decided to write, was a gift from God. It was as if God was saying, “I love you, Trish.”
Sunday, is Muffet’s birthday. This friend who has been a gift from God to me. Thank you Muffet for caring enough to contact me. I treasure these past few years of reconnecting and sharing. I look forward to when we can meet face to face again. Muffet, not to sound too Golden Girlish… “Thank you for being a friend.”
He’s in the hospital again. Swedish hospital in Seattle. I was going to see him last night, but it was so dark and pouring rain that I struggled about whether I should go or not. In the end I decided against it.
This morning I heard on the news that there had been a terrible accident on the interstate westbound to Seattle. After the accident one of the drivers tried to cross the eastbound lanes of I-90 and was hit and killed. It seems I was wise to follow my instinct and better judgment, or could it have been God leading me to make a wise choice.
Tonight, the rain had eased up, so I went to Seattle. On the way home at 8PM the traffic was still heavy, it was dark and had started to rain heavily. I turned on some music to relieve some stress. Two songs came on my Apple Music one after the other, and I repeated them all the way home. The first was this one by Kris Kristofferson ~ “Why me Lord?”
This video tells the moving back story of Kristofferson‘s song.
He wrote the song after a spiritual experience he had in 1972. He attended a church service and during the invitation he was overpowered with the love and forgiveness from Yeshua (Jesus). The song imparts his feelings of unworthiness of such love from God.
On a side note, hearing this song brought back memories of my youngest son when he was about 5 years old. Once when the song was playing, he wondered why KK was saying “Why Me Lord?” He thought maybe he was asking God why his voice was so deep. ❤️
The second was “Fall On Me” by Joel Chernoff. It is duet with Sharon Wilber. It is a love song and a plea to the Lord to touch one’s life and be filled with the spirit of God. It reminded me that God is faithful and I only need ask for more of him.
My spirit has been struggling of late like many others. I look around and see all the anger, all the immorality, all the suffering and mostly all the hate and it is disheartening. Added to that is the anxiety that comes when Josh is in the hospital. I wonder will he ever know a cure, or will he suffer endlessly? I have a deep nagging fear that he is slowly dying because if the disease and it’s comorbidities don’t take his life, the strong medications he takes to suppress his immune system will. Many of these drugs come with warning that than can cause cancer. He is currently on his fifth one after having four others fail.
This morning, while driving into work another song played. It was “My Grace” by my friend in Israel, Pam Singer. In her lyrics she asks, “Is this Grace enough? Will tender mercies see me through?”
The reply she hears is: “My Grace Enough, My tender mercies new everyday. I crown your life with strength and loving kindness. My eyes are on you. My presence near My ear would hear the cry of your heart. I call you Mine, beloved forever. My Grace Enough.”
So what is the point of all my rambling here.
1. I was worried about not going to see Josh on Wednesday evening, but later discovered that by not going, I was saved from the interstate shutdown and accident.
2. After I went last night, I left feeling dispirited and out of the 900+ songs in my music library, two songs came on that reminded me that, a) I have done nothing to deserve God’s blessings and love and, b) all I have to do is ask him to fill me again, and again each day with his spirit.
3. This morning Pam’s song played as a reminder that no matter what I am going through, not matter what I am agonizing over, God’s Grace is enough. He hears me. He knows my heart and I am loved by Him.
Hebrews 11:1 says, ” Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.”
Last night I read Mitch Albom’s book “Have a Little Faith.” In some ways I could relate to his journey and like him, I have had times that my relationship with God was distant, but I have never walked away. In the past I had periods of time when my faith was weak but the older I am the stronger my faith has become.
I once read that faith is not just the belief in something unseen but it is total complete trust in something. Trust for me was a building process because of my childhood I have struggled with trust. Not just trust in God, but trust in family and trust in friends.
However, over time I have experienced many examples of true love and compassion from all of these. I have a small group of friends and select family that have proved themselves faithful time and time again.
In the same way, God has shown me His compassion, His love, His strength, and each time it gave me one more brick of faith and trust to stand on. When trials come, I have those bricks from His past faithfulness to rely on for the courage to face each day. Where I once fell apart, I may now mourn and grieve but I know God has a plan and He will see me to the other side.
The amazing thing is that before my trust was weak and wishful, it is now a solid and a sure belief that no matter what the world says, my trust is built on evidence of His care and love. It is in this, that my faith is strong.
He who dwells in the secret place of the Most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty. I will say of the Lord, “He is my refuge and my fortress; My God, in Him I will trust.” ~ Psalm 91:1-2 NKJV
Photo courtesy of Unsplash – Alex Shute
*** Mitch Albom is a best selling author and his books always have a lesson or experience. in which I strongly relate. The book “Have a Little Faith,” is a true story in which he speaks of his faith and a relationship with his Rabbi and a Christian pastor and what he learned from each of them. It was released in 2009 but if you’d like to read it you can find good preowned copies online.
With a little less than 48 hours left in 2023, I found this note that keeps popping up that I wrote in 2013. That year was a stressful hard year. My youngest son, a 22 year old college student, spent five months in the hospital, after three surgeries he had nearly exsanguinating bleed and spent weeks in the ICU.
Ten years later, I read these words and see that I made it through that year with the love and support of my family and friends. In reality we make it through every year with their support… with them, we make it through Life!
As I look back on 2023, I do so knowing that I followed my own advice here. I look forward to 2024 and as I often say, “I try to live everyday as if it might be my last at the base of the mountain near the river.”
Down to 48 hours left in 2013.
Going to think through the ups and downs, happiness and heartaches, blessings and curses, those who I lost and those who I still have close to love and appreciate. In that final group, my family and friends including you my Facebook friends and family, who encouraged me, prayed for my family and helped me through this long year.
I thank you and wish for you all a new year of success, warm times with your family, and peace.
I still remember the words from CBS reporter Lee Cowan after the marathon bombing. (The bombings) ” do remind us we don’t get to set life’s clock. While we may think we’ll have a tomorrow to say all the things we want to say, or should have said, what this week proved is that sometimes, that tomorrow doesn’t come — and the things left unsaid could end up one of our greatest regrets. “
Have no regrets. Tell your loved ones how much you care for them, forgive and heal old wounds if at all possible, if not forgive yourself. Live everyday to its fullest and if you are reading this know you are appreciated and loved by me. 💕
It is said, mostly in Chinese proverbs, that “A journey of a thousand miles, begins with a single step,” and “A thousand mile journey begins where one stands.” I have been fortunate enough to have traveled many thousands of miles to different places.
In 1977, I traveled from Houston Texas to Seoul, South Korea – 7035 miles. In 1991, I went to Celle, Germany from Seattle – 4964 miles. In 2000, I made my first trip to Israel – 6,816 from Seattle and in 2015 I traveled from Seattle to Brisbane, Australia for a total of 7,357 miles. So just by total distance traveled, Australia wins.
However, if we go back to the Chinese Proverb, about a journey beginning with a single step, the furthest I have traveled on foot was in 2001. At the time I was attending a Messianic congregation in Bellevue, WA. They had acquired a new property in Newcastle, the next town over and being part of a metropolitan area one really could not tell where one ended and the other began.
As part of this move they planned to walk with their Torah Scroll to the new location. The The Torah (or Pentateuch) contains the five books of Moses: Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers, and Deuteronomy. It is considered by the Jewish people as their gift from God, their guide to life filled with with His wisdom. According to Jewish tradition when a synagogue closes its doors or relocates, the Torah scrolls are moved by careful ceremony. It is said that the journey to the new synagogue is modeled on the journey the Jews made to the Promised Land with the Ark of the Covenant, and many believe they are carrying the heart and soul of the congregation.
The distance to the new location was 8.5 miles. At the time I was forty-six years old and JD, my youngest son, was twelve. We decided to join in the walk. Many people were preparing for the event by building up their endurance. When I was asked if I was “training,” I replied that I was not. I had been to both places and by car, I was healthy and it didn’t really seem to be an insurmountable task.
JD and I showed up early for the walk. The Torah was carried by different members of the congregation and anyone that wanted a turn at carrying the Torah was welcome to do so. The Torah was covered by a tent that was a Jewish prayer shawl (a Tallit) held up by a pole at each corner. There were four people carrying the poles and those positions were also switched out along the journey. We walked along the city streets, a group of maybe 40 of us, we sang, we shared stories, we laughed and waved to the curious passersby.
The trip went really well for the first say, 7.5 miles, then as the day warmed up I began to get tired. Also, as we entered Newcastle there was a slight incline that made the walk a little more difficult. As we got closer to the new location, other members began to join in the walk for the last mile. They were excited (not tired) and full of energy and it seemed the pace picked up a little. The last half mile, I really had to push myself.
At last we made the final turn to the new location, it was about a third of a mile (approximately 5 city blocks) up a steep incline. I was at the back of the pack by now and I literally drug myself to the top one-hard-push-at-a-time.
When we arrived there was singing and celebrating and food for all. I was hot and my face was as red as a beet. I stayed a short while but thought it best to head home while I could still move. When I got home it was about 3 in the afternoon. I took a shower, went to bed and didn’t not wake up until the next morning.
When I think about my journey, I think of the many journeys the Jewish people have made over the years and the hardships they endured when they were exiled and and thrown out of their homes, towns and countries. During the pogroms they left with the only the belongings they could carry on their back or maybe in small wagons. The treks were long and arduous but I am sure the Torah scrolls went with them.
There are approximately 2,350 steps in a mile for a woman my height. That day I only made a 20,000 step journey, far from a thousand miles, but it still started with a single step and a determination to finish.
My journey was a joyous celebration and although I did not prepare for the journey, my walk made me reflect on the tradition and how even during persecution and strife the Jewish people honored the Torah on every journey of a thousand miles they were forced to make.
Emyloom ~ Words Woven Within My Heart 