What we leave behind…..

I will bless the Lord who guides me; even at night my heart instructs me. I know the Lord is always with me. I will not be shaken, for he is right beside me. No wonder my heart is glad, and I rejoice. My body rests in safety. For you will not leave my soul among the dead or allow your holy one to rot in the grave. You will show me the way of life, granting me the joy of your presence and the pleasures of living with you forever. Psalm 16:7-11

I found this note in Mom’s Bible the other day. I didn’t remember asking her to read it, but it gave me comfort to see it now that she is gone. It made me think of the title of this post today. Another thought struck me close behind that and it was, “Did I love enough?” When we end this life, it won’t matter:

If we bought enough…..

If we did enough…..

If we worried enough….

If we learned enough….

If we earned enough….

I just started a book called “From the Kitchen of Half-Truth” In it is the story of a mother who loved her daughter very, very much. She wove these fantastical stories that her daughter loved very much when she was little but one day at eight years of age, she shared some of them with her school friends and she was laughed at and labeled a liar and her mother, whom she loved was labeled a fruitcake thereafter. She came home and decided to put her past and all the stories her mother had told her far behind and grew into a scientifical person who only believed what she could prove. Years later her mom was dying of cancer, and she came home to care for her. Her Mom still clung to the old stories and the daughter was disgusted that she refused to face reality.

The part that made me cry was when the daughter finally remembered all the many ways her mom had loved her, made her feel safe throughout the years. How that was so much more important than anything else. I thought of my own mom and how she had done that for me. How many battles she fought for me, how many times she prayed with tears through the hard times of my adolescence and well into adulthood. I hope that I loved her enough. (I probably didn’t)

God calls us to love until it hurts just like He did.

I worry about who is right and who is wrong too much of the time. I need to just love and not worry about who is worthy. I am glad God that deemed us if not worthy, but worth it. The truth is, I don’t love enough. My best friend in the world just reminded me that I have never got up early and surprised her with her favorite beverage in the world, a Dutch Brothers coffee. I insisted that I had. I remember the day I did it, in fact. My conscience seared as I sit here, remembering all the many times she has done just that for me.

Like I always say, while there is breath, there is hope, and a chance to do better.

I will love better. And now, if you excuse me, I’m going to Dutch Bros. Have a blessed day and surround those in your circle with love.

In Jesus love, Lori

Mission Impossible

This is a very short story with the happiest possible ending for all mankind. It’s actually a story that began long ago and is still being lived, breathed and told. It’s a living story and we all have a part to play. 

All eternity holds its breath as each individual living on earth makes the choice to embrace the impossible. Our breaths are all numbered by Him who breathed life into us at the very beginning. Our beginning. 

The ending is up to us. Do we embrace what the Angel told Mary? That she being a virgin would conceive a Son that would bear the sin of us all. You see, we all fall short. Every single one of us. 

But God worked a miracle. And that miracle is you. If you are here, living, breathing on this earth it’s because God wanted you here. And now it’s Christmas once again. Christ came and continues to come. Continues to beckon us to joy. 

It’s Christmas every single day until we breathe our last. I am acquainted with death, in fact I’m far too familiar with it. But I’m also very acquainted with life, and that’s the most important part. 

Death is a mystery. No one gets out alive. But the Good News is still Good News indeed. The angel that came to the Shepherds on that cold hillside long ago is still giving us “Good Tidings of Great Joy,” and I love that the angel said which shall be to “all” people not some people. 

For as many as received Him, to them gave he power to become the sons of God, even to them that believe on His name. John 1:12 

This means you. Life is hard. Sometimes life is just about impossible. We get lost. We fail. We get back up again and again. And like I always say: 

Where there’s breath, there’s hope. 

To embrace the impossible, we have to embrace the impossible God. He loves you friends. He wants to meet you exactly where you are this Christmas morning. Thats my message of love today. 

Merry Christmas from my humble Prayer Closet, blessings and peace, Lori. 

Where there’s breath…..

“In the entire history of the universe, let alone in your own history, there has never been another day just like today, and there will never be another just like it again. Today is the point to which all your yesterdays have been leading since the hour of your birth. It is the point from which all your tomorrows will proceed until the hour of your death. If you were aware of how precious today is, you could hardly live through it. Unless you are aware of how precious it is, you can hardly be said to be living at all.”
— Frederick Buechner

Oh, how I miss this man’s words. His writing has been such a part of my life for so many years that it almost came as a shock that the biography was speaking of him in past tense. I had forgotten that he had died in 2022 at the age of 96. I have been enveloped in so many emotions since my brother’s death in April of this year and then both my parents before that in 2022, Buechner’s death slipped out of my consciousness. He had a way of capturing real life the way few writers can.

Lately, things have been better. Life is moving along the way it does, whether we are ready or not. And Christmas, (thank God) always comes. I don’t mean the Holiday and all the stuff, but the actual fact that is reality for us as Christian believers. That we have been redeemed. That God saw our sorry state and thought He needed to do something to bring us back from the brink. Bring us back to Him. We watched a movie last night, and it was really very sweet. It was about a group of British commuters on a train that saw each other every day but never really spoke to each other. One idealistic young man decided to announce that he wanted to throw a Christmas party for all the commuters (strangers really). Most thought he was crazy. The idea was slow to take off, and in the end, he was very discouraged and cancelled the party. But the miracle part of the story was when people actually started to talk and get to know one another.

Well, in true happy-ending Christmas movie magic, they all surprise him by luring him to his office and throwing the party anyway. It was a smashing success. One person on that train chose to take a risk and make a difference. It wasn’t easy but he was persistent. Until he wasn’t. It’s true of all of us. We give up on ourselves, we give up on each other. It seems the world is crazier than ever before. But one thing, well, one Person anyway, hasn’t changed. God still waits in the wings of our lives until we beckon Him in. What I always say is that:

Where there’s breath, there’s hope.

We don’t have to look far around here to see the hopelessness of humanity at every turn. The other day we were at the local post office and there was a woman wearing only a bra and skimpy leggings hugging the Christmas tree that was in the lobby. Everywhere we go we see encampments of desperation at every turn. The thought comes:

Christ came for a hopeless weary world such as this.

God didn’t wait until I cleaned up and made myself presentable to redeem me, He came when I was still a mess. A 13-year-old kid who nevertheless somehow knew that I needed saving. And I still do, every single day. We all do. I grasped my mom’s hand for strength back then, as I rose from the pew to walk the aisle down to the front to make my public declaration. Thankfully God doesn’t wait until we are good enough, because we never can be. He waits until we acknowledge our deep need to be redeemed of everything that is wrong within us that we are powerless to change.

And that’s the good news that is still good news to ALL the people. I love how the angels said to the Shepherds, “Fear not, for behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which will be for ALL people.” And all we have to do is believe it, embrace it, live it. And each day is another opportunity to start over. Yesterday might have been a disaster, but today is a new day. Chaos certainly reigns down here, but Christ came for this kind of world. And we can have His peace today.

Every year it seems like I miss the first two Advent Sundays and this year was no exception. I feel bad about it, but there it is. This has been a hard year. God knows my heart and he knows yours. He knows we are all just doing the best we can down here. Sometimes we just need to give ourselves a break. Slow down, breathe easy, especially this time of year. Things can be left undone, but people can’t.

Finally, Christmas means that we celebrate because there is always something worth celebrating. Even with all the conflicting evidence we see around us in the world today, our world was and is, redeemed once and for all. Starting with the Manger.

In His peace, Lori

Saving Cherie

This process of going through my brother’s belongings has been a long process and extremely difficult. After a few weeks of going through mountains of stuff, I discovered it would be an impossible task. It was with incredible feelings of relief and gratitude when my friend Teresa, along with her husband Hal graciously accepted the task of doing the estate sale. There were weeks of hard work and dump runs before the sale could even take place.

When our parents passed away my brother told me not to worry about the rest of their things. (I soon found out where they all ended up.) So that had to be gone through as well. Finally, it was the weekend of the sale.

I stayed away and let the experts handle it and handle it they did. Way beyond my expectations. We had agreed that what was left would be dumped or given away free. Ready to be taken out, amongst the box of my niece’s old dolls, I exclaimed to Elaine, “There’s my Cherie doll!” I had known she was there somewhere because I knew my mom had saved her for me. She was dirty and disheveled, her hair patchy and matted. The box was carried out along with all the other stuff with a “free” sign on it.

It was the next day, and I was in the shower getting ready for work. Grief can be irrational and sneaky and shows up at odd times. I thought of Cherie outside in that box and I remembered my long ago love for her. I remembered her two-piece blue outfit and her perfect short blonde hair and the words she said when I pulled her string. And I am crying all over again as I write this. And it makes no sense and yet it makes perfect sense. It’s kind of like when you lose someone you love and you are too busy to cry trying to be strong for everyone else, and then a year later your cat dies, and you are submerged in grief for weeks.

Elaine heard me crying and asked what was wrong. I said, “I’ve got to go get Cherie and I have to get to work!” Best friend that she is, she dragged herself out of bed and drove across town hoping and praying she’d still be there. And she was, on the very bottom of the box!

As I drove to work, I kept thinking about that little doll. And then I heard the Holy Spirit whisper six words……..“I have called you by name.” As tears rolled again, I thought of myself in the “free take it” box. And of the God who called me by name long ago and pulled dirty, disheveled forgotten me out of that box.

Isn’t that what God wants to do for every one of us if we will only let him? Isn’t the Christian life kind of like one long series of God reclaiming us when we’ve forgotten where we came from and who we truly belong to?

There was no question, saving Cherie was crucial. Saving her was about reclaiming a part of myself, a part of my life that seemed so innocent, so simple. Before all the adulting. Before all the misgivings, misunderstandings, and miscommunications that are all part of growing up and growing older. In remembering how I loved her; I remembered how God loves me still.

I received the text and a picture at work. Elaine had put Cherie next to her in the seatbelt and I had to laugh to myself. My day felt redeemed and so did I. That night Cherie got a bath, a new outfit and hat to hide the bad hair. It will always be a cherished memory now. Us at Walmart going through all the baby clothes and finding the right one. The Tutu was a must.

Someday soon she may on the “doll bench” in my aunt’s spare room, but for now, she has a place of honor in the driver’s seat of the motorhome. And if it’s a little crazy having a doll in here, so be it.

Life and grief can be extremely crazy at times.

No Title

I don’t know if “No Title” is a title but it’s okay.

It’s Sunday and I should be getting ready for church. I’ve been up for hours, first Sissy-cat then Bo Bo, taking lap turns while I started my new book, “Animal Dreams”, another Kingsolver. I had to turn Demon Copperhead back in. The writing was superb, but it was just too dark and I don’t need to be immersed in that darkness right now. Maybe I’ll pick it up again at a later date when my life calms down. 

Back to my present church apathetical malaise. I find I can relate easily to David as quoted in Psalm 42:4 when he says: 

These things I remember as I pour out my soul: how I would go with the throng and lead them in procession to the house of God with glad shouts and songs of praise, a multitude keeping festival. 

I feel like the lukewarm person that Jesus refers to when He says: “I would that you were hot or cold…..” I don’t know what’s causing it. I do know I’m happy when I go, but I’m also happy sitting here and of course it’s much easier. I have no excuse. 

Part of yesterday was spent with a friend looking over my brother’s house and everything in it for her expert opinion on the feasibility of holding an estate sale there. I thought she would run off screaming but she was undaunted. I was ready to empty the contents of the bathroom into a garbage bag to dump but she said no, that (emphatically!) “People will pay for that!” I obviously have no clue about this stuff but she does. 

She will let me know if she wants to do it, I have yet to hear back. If not, we will go in another direction. Maybe all this stuff is catching up with me. I need to go to church regularly and I need to walk regularly. Just not today. I am extremely satisfied with my stack of books right now. (Reading two and two in the wings) Kingsolver is my new favorite author.

I cleared a space for the four chairs I want down below in the little shack, but upon inspection this morning I saw a very fat creepy spider hanging by the doorway. I will have to spray the living daylights out of it before I brave the door. (Sorry Charlotte) I have no mercy and need to get things done. 

Today I will post this, then see what comes next. And tomorrow is another work day, and another work week closer to retirement. 

We did find a home for my brother’s two fish and it was kind of comical. I just couldn’t flush them! They were too happy. Elaine made the sacrifice of putting her hand in the slimy fish-poop water and scooped them out. I held them in their ziplock, still happily swimming into an unknown future. The guy at the Pet Supply got on his walkie-talkie and asked if they take (used) fish. He gave a conspiratorial glance and said, “Now’s your chance, leave them and head out the door and nobodies the wiser.” 

But then the disembodied voice crackled…….“Yes we will take them.” He said, “We’ll put them in an isolation tank for now.” I was impressed they cared that much.

“Read me a story….”

When I was very small, I remember begging my Dad to read me just one more story. He was good at making up stories. I especially remember one about a little black cat that was lost and a kind of spooky story about a green light. Makes me want to cry now because I can still hear his voice as he shared it. These were simple times before we knew any better that life had its share of sorrows as well as joys, and before we worried about the future. My Dad and Mom tried very hard to sew up a tight little circle of family. It was a place of security and we all drifted there in that safety net of our childhood years.

The 70’s, as I look back now were an incredibly innocent time. I remember on two occasions in our High School Assembly the song “Fairest Lord Jesus” was sung by two of my classmates, Patty Schaal and Connie Guntert. I don’t remember anyone jeering, or making noise, we just listened. Back then there was still a moral compass of some sort. Not all of the kids were church kids, but they had enough respect to listen, and applaud after. It was California, and we were in the height of the Jesus Revolution. Apparently enough of Jesus blew inland since our town was about two hours north of where that all started.

This morning I actually opened my actual Bible instead of the one on my phone App. I was surprised by the emotion that washed over me. I held it to my chest as I thought about all the times those living pages brought such comfort. Those words, those stories. As I closed my eyes, I heard the rustling of pages on a warm summer night in church. I heard my grandma’s rattling of Reeds candy cellophane and the embarrassed shushing my one of my aunt’s further down the pew. When you open a book, it comes alive. And we are all the embodiment of who went before us.

Sometimes I just sit quietly and think gratefully about those simpler times that wash over me like baptismal grace. I wonder where they went, and if I can have the fortitude to live them out and make them come alive again. Because you can tell a story, but it takes real courage to live a story in our actions, our thoughts, our lives.

I don’t think I will be using my phone App anymore, and I don’t know why I even started except laziness. I need to see the places I highlighted, and pages my Dad marked in his Book of Common Prayer. And remember how, when I moved from home the first time, how Mom cradled my old copy of The Way bible that I got back in those seemingly innocent times, tears streaming down her face. I didn’t know how much it meant to her back then. I do now Mom, I do now.

Our stories are who we are, and they are so important. Margaret Atwood says it like this, “In the end, we’ll all become stories.” And I found another quote that describes me perfectly, since I check out libraries in each town I travel through, “The only thing you absolutely have to know is the location of the library.” Albert Einstein

I asked God to read me a story and He said, “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with me (God) and the Word was me (God). John 1:1

Stages…….

As writers, we always want to make sense of things by organizing the chaotic jumble of thoughts that are swimming around in our heads/and or hearts. Getting those onto the page is a different story. In our fantasies the words flow freely. Most of the time this doesn’t happen. My Dad used to paint watercolor, and I think probably the creative process of that is somewhat similar. I am sure he had an idea in his mind of what the finished product would look like. What my mom would think was beautiful many times ended up with a big black “X” across it, tossed in the garbage. Ending up with something not sounding ridiculous and trite to our inner ears is somewhat of a miracle. But I digress…..

I needed to get away for at least a few days and we made arrangements to stay right on the beach in Monterey, near Cannery Row, the inspiration of many of John Steinbeck’s writings. Usually, I find my rhythm of peace right away on the ocean. This time it took a day. It concerned me, because I felt maybe I just wouldn’t get there at all. The second day it all changed. Thankfully. We had 4 wonderful days of great meals, walking for miles and blessedly cool weather with the sun breaking through the coastal fog most days. We went to the Monterey Bay Aquarium which was packed with families and kids jockeying for position at the viewing windows, but it’s massive enough we saw everything we wanted to see. Once again, I was overwhelmed with God’s imagination. I mean, just the jellyfish alone!

It was just what we both needed.

I continue to deal with the stages of grief at the loss of my brother. I am still kind of in the disbelieving phase of settling into this new reality of being the last of my original family left standing. It’s a strange new world. Part of navigating through grief is the self-evaluation of asking the questions: Did I love enough……Did I love at all…..Did I tell them I did…..When was the last time I told them I loved them……or hugged them? Why can’t I remember? Part of that is normal. Endless recriminations about what I did or didn’t do is not. I rest in the many years of memories we all shared together. And there are many.

As I was writing this, I remembered a snatch of a Bible verse: “Strengthen what remains.” And right on the heels of that was another thought: “Love who remains.” That I can do. And who remains is God, who is always present, and that also includes myself and the loved ones around me. And the lessons we can all relearn from loss, (mine or anyone else’s.)

Call more, stop by more, pay attention more, help more, hug more, love more. Even if you get rebuffed or rejected. In essence, love more like Jesus loved. I want to get to the end of my life with as few regrets as possible. That’s my goal anyway.

All this blather to say. I am moving forward, I am sifting through feelings and thoughts and memories and learning to adjust to this new reality. The best thing we can all do is the best we can. Live life. This morning was peace. It was picking the neighbors’ tomatoes, watering before the heat sets in, watching E. work on the boat, feeding the cats double just because they will be very hot outside today. Breathing in the miracle that is life. I close with this thought, in Heaven there are no regrets. And Revelation 21:4, He will wipe every tear from their eyes and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning or crying nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.”

Book recommendations: One of the books I am reading right now is called Bonhoeffer: Pastor, Martyr, Prophet, Spy by Eric Metaxes. It’s not a book you sail through, (there are 20 pages of notes alone) but it’s very inspirational. (And historically accurate) A brilliant theologian, Bonhoeffer should be as well-known as Anne Frank, or Schindler but sadly, he’s not. He died in prison after being arrested by the Nazis for among other things, trying to rid the world of Hitler. Another I’m just about to start is The Collected Regrets of Clover. Jury is still out on that one.

I continue to feed my brother’s two feral cats. They come out from their hiding places immediately and are very grateful to get the food. I know he would be happy to see that.

Until next time, thank you for the therapy, dear readers if you are still with me. I hope you know that I pray for every one of you. Lori

When you lose a sibling

I have been grappling with the right words to write for weeks. It’s been exactly 60 days since I heard the panic-stricken voice over the phone say, “Lori, Ron is dead.” It was my brother’s friend Margaret who went to check on him after he stopped replying to our texts and calls. 

There are moments that split the timeline in a life and that phone call was yet another one.

Three family members in two years, gone. I still pause several times a day and hear the whisper, like a breeze flowing through my soul that tells me he’s not here. And how can that be?

Death, the Bible says, is a mystery. How can people in your life be here, breathing, walking, talking, making decisions (or not); then simply disappear with a wake of a life left behind. I find comfort in knowing he is in Heaven. I was there the day he made his declaration of faith, Easter Sunday 81 or 82 if my memory is correct. 

I remember thinking he looked gallant and humble that day. Handsome and tan in a white shirt walking down the aisle like a lone male bride. My Aunt and I were in the choir that day singing selections from “The Messiah.” 

Flash forward 40 or so years. And time, and time and time, like the Steve Miller band song says, “slips into the future” and my brother’s soul flew like an eagle to his Heavenly home. 

In childhood, I idolized him. He looked after me when we were small. On family trips we slept together in the back of the Volkswagen with the seats folded down. I remember that. Other things stand out. The time we made a pact not to bicker and fight anymore. (Didn’t last) and the Birthday party where he and a friend attached prizes behind the sheet draped clothesline so my friends and I could “fish for prizes.” 

In high school, he was the star athlete, the popular one. I was the quiet book nerd. In the ebb and flow of life, we drifted apart over the years but came together at different times, usually when crisis hit. 

I had utmost respect for him as a caregiver when his first wife got cancer. He never left her side, caring for her until she passed away. And at the worst time of my life when my husband died on our honeymoon he flew to Mexico and stayed until we could bring his body back. 

He has left behind a special needs daughter who will be 21 this December. My brother could always make her laugh with his silliness. She also shares his love and compassion for animals. I’m so thankful she has such a great Mom.

There are mountains of stuff and mountains of decisions to sort through and I am still in somewhat of a state of disbelief. I see a gray Ford truck coming down the street and I still think it might be him. 

I was the first to hug him, all our lives. He never made a move to hug me first. That just wasn’t his way. I wish I would have grabbed him and hugged him the last time I saw him. But I didn’t know. We never know. I also didn’t know how depressed and lonely he was ever since our parents died in 2021. I wish he would have let me in. I wish I would have been more sensitive. 

It sounds like a Hallmark cliche to say that we never know when it will be our last moments but it’s also true. If there is any value, any lesson I can learn (or relearn) from loss going forward it’s this: 

“Do what you can live with after they are gone.” That is the best advice and it’s what my bestie Elaine always did and said while she was caregiving for her parents. 

I miss my brother. I know he is at peace and I am getting there. I will close with a letter he wrote his first wife shortly before she died, and these are his words: 

Your grace and courage in passing from this life cause me to fear death no longer. And, as you said to me one time before you departed, “Ron, I won’t just be waiting for you to arrive in Heaven, I’ll be waving you in.” 

There really is Good News!

It’s been a long stretch of COVID and waiting and even though I didn’t feel bad I didn’t want to give it to anyone else. Then I gave it to Elaine, which made me feel terrible, and she had it longer, so we were both in the tube of seclusion. 

We did get to enjoy a wonderful St. Patrick’s Day corned beef dinner on the 17th. And a rousing game of Farkle that night! (Try not to be jealous.) We count all the small joys here. And we really do find things to laugh about. Lately we have had to look harder. 

Thankfully though, we have come out the other side. The elusive sun has broken through every now and again which has been the only thing keeping us just out of one after another “come-apart” moments (as they say in the South). A term I have only recently learned and now have happily adopted. It has truly been a winter like no other I’ve ever experienced here in California. 

The good news: the reservoirs are filling up and it does the heart good to see a physical manifestation of all that rain (and flooding). And another good thing yesterday, I was able to go prom dress shopping with my niece and her mom and after about 10 dresses, we found “The One.” 

And speaking of world news lately. Everywhere you look it seems the whole world is having a “Come Apart,” when what we really need is a “Come to Jesus.” As Christians we know that God has everything firmly in His grip, all evidence to the contrary when we look at the world and the news. It’s disheartening when we see our own communities affected by it all.

Our faith though, on a practical level rewards us, because there are moments when in the midst of slogging through life, we hear a song, or see something magnificent in nature and we know, that we know, that we know. The Good News that Jesus brought is still here. Still just as real.

It happened today. I heard a song on the radio and I felt Easter like a sunburst in my heart. You know that feeling when you want to shout it out and share it with the world? Like when you have that awesome church service you want to share so bad, and you invite a friend, and they actually say yes. Or when you see grownup people being baptized.

He hears you friend. Don’t despair, He’s got this. Just pray a small prayer like Anne Lamott talked about in her book, “Help, thanks, wow.” It’s all you need. He will hear you. 

I hope this is okay sharing these lyrics because this is the chorus of one of the songs I heard by “We Are Messengers” 

It’s in the empty tomb

It’s on the rugged cross

Your death defying love

Is written in Your scars

You’ll never quit on me

You’ll always hold my heart

‘Cause that’s the kind of God You are……

Yes, indeed. This Lent, we celebrate again that the Father gave the most precious thing He had to redeem us. To draw us close to Himself. And Jesus said, “Let’s do this.” 

Hang Onto the Good

Oh give thanks to the Lord, for He is good, for His steadfast love endures forever. Psalm 107:1

Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows. James 1:17

Joy does not simply happen to us, we have to choose joy and keep choosing it every day. Henry Nouwen

I had to dig myself out of a hole on Monday. I simply wasn’t ready to get up and do it all again. The way I described it to E. was a slow panic attack. I felt paralyzed by life. So, I just called in sick and rode it out. It doesn’t happen often, but it does happen every now and then. The endless gray we’ve been having hasn’t helped. Add that to the fact of living in an even smaller space than usual, due to the awning on the slide-out being worn. It has to be fixed and the RV place will charge an arm and a leg for something that takes about 30 minutes.

We may try to do this ourselves. It can be done.

This is the valuable thing I have learned from depression. It is temporary. And there is no shame in medication if it’s needed. Some people of faith think that if you pray enough, or praise enough, or read the Bible enough, you won’t be depressed. One of my former Pastors got very exasperated at that. There is no shame in medication. I have taken Zoloft twice in my life and it has been just what I needed at the time.

That being said, each of us is different, and sometimes we have to find our own way out. We can help each other do this. Many things help me. Sometimes just a simple walk can do wonders. Getting out, seeing people, going to your favorite diner. Sometimes I use writing to write myself out of a hole. Going to the library for me is a simple but great outlet. Being around books has always leveled out my mind. When that fails, I know I’m in trouble.

The pictures above are some of my recent finds. One of them was a pet memorial bench. Later I went back left some flowers. And the drawing is a portrait of me by one of my “girls” at school. She was giggling as she drew it! And on a recent drive looking for the newest free library we found one built like a robot. When you open it, the lights flash. An engineer must live there.

And last week we went to the movie, Jesus Revolution. I highly recommend it. It is not shmaltzy or cheesy the way so many “faith” films can be. It’s a true story from an incredible time in history which I partly lived through growing up in the 70’s. It will make you laugh, cry, and cheer. People in the audience broke into spontaneous applause at the end. How often does that happen anymore?

Another thing that tremendously helps my mood is limited exposure to the news.

“The Good News” that Jesus brought us is still every bit as real as when he walked the earth! Sometimes I need to remind myself of the big thing that makes everything else worth it.

Peace and greetings from my little corner. Lori