Christmas Legacy

Around the corner from my house, our local hospital stands a mere 5 stories high. I can see the giant blue "H" on top of the building while standing in my back yard. I can hear the life flight helicopters whisking over my roof, and the sirens sailing down the street every single day. There is no opportunity to forget that the hospital sits right around the corner, the noise of the hustle and bustle reminding me always to pray.

Right now, in that hospital, my mother lies in a bed too weak to get up, too tired for much conversation, too sick to eat, too young for the prognosis she faces. She awaits her second surgery in a week's time. She's in pain. She's quiet. She's sleeping more than anything.

And it's Christmastime. As I wait to see how long she will remain in the hospital, I wonder how we will make this Christmas, the one that the doctor's say will be her last, as special as she always made it for us.

When I was a child, Christmas was always a special time in our house. Even in lean years, my parents somehow filled the space beneath the Christmas tree with gifts. Mom loved decorating the house with us. We went to the Holeski Christmas tree farm and chose a tree to cut and drag home where Dad put it in the stand and then helped get the decorations from storage. He left the decorating to Mom, my sister, and me.

Alabama Christmas would play in the cassette player. Mom would expertly place the lights and garland on the tree while candles burned in the Home Interiors sconce on the wall, filling the air with the scent of pine and cinnamon. One of us would set up the ceramic nativity set. Ornaments and silver tinsel covered the tree. The little brown gingerbread ornaments complete with my toddler teeth marks, the shiny 1970s bulbs passed to my parents from my grandparents, the sewn snowman ornaments purchased at a local craft bazaar, the pretty glazed ceramic angel given to my mother by my 2nd grade teacher. A flashing, rainbow colored star donned the top of the tree.

Once the tree and decorations were adorning our home, Mom watched Charlie Brown and Rudolph and Frosty the Snowman with us. She baked sweet treats with us. Sugar cookie cut-outs, Russian teacakes, and peanut butter cookies with Hershey's kisses in the center. She made us homemade hot cocoa during Christmas break.

Mom didn't even realize she was doing anything to make Christmas special, but she did. Now I face the task of how to make this Christmas special for her. I hope that she gets to go home soon, but I don't know if that will happen. I hope that she is...

Here.

For one last Christmas.

And while I hope, I have to decide. How do we make this Christmas special? How do we hold on a little tighter and let her go all at the same time? Do we decorate her house hoping that she gets to spend her Christmas there? Do we deliver decorations to her hospital room? What do you give to the person who has everything she wants? How do we hold onto Christmas joy in the midst of such intense sorrow?

I know this isn't the kind of post that is going to have you clicking your mouse to get back to read more, but that's not why I'm posting it. I'm writing this post for two reasons. Therapy. It comes in many forms, and, for me, it often comes through the written word. I'm writing this for myself.

I also write to ask you to pray, not just for my mother and my family, though we certainly need to be uplifted, but for the many, many families who face similar predicaments this Christmas. I look back at the year my mom lost both her parents and wonder how the selfish, 19 year old girl that I was didn't see how much my mother needed support that Christmas. Did I pray for her? For my aunts and uncles?

I don't even remember.

I implore you, be that support for someone this year. Send them a card. Tell them you're praying for them. Drop a small gift on their doorstep. Hug them in the grocery story. Take their kids somewhere for an afternoon and free them up to be with their loved one. Take 5 minutes, 2 minutes even, to show someone who is hurting that you care about them this Christmas season. I promise you that they will never forget your kindness even if they are too overwhelmed to tell you how much it means to them right now. It means a lot. I know this for certain. Whether they have lost someone already and face the empty chair at the Christmas dinner table, or they are told that they will be losing someone soon, they need you. Your prayers going up on their behalf will get them through each day, each hour, each moment when they think they can't put one foot in front of the other, when they leave the hospital and find that, as they slowly shuffle across a dark parking lot, every muscle in their body aches from exhaustion and stress and they wonder if they will collapse before their hand reaches the handle on their car door.

So I ask you to pray for us. Pray for people like us.

And remember your Christmas blessings, past and present. What a blessing it is to look back on my childhood Christmases and to see my mother sitting on the couch as we opened the gifts she perfectly chose for us because she always knows exactly what gift to give. What a blessing it is to remember the red skirt she sewed for me when I was in junior high school so that I had a beautiful outfit to wear to church on Christmas. What a blessing to remember how she has continued this Christmas legacy by showering her grandchildren with the same kind of attention to detail, right down to choosing Spiderman, Dora, and princess gift wrap according to each child's taste.

Mom would tell you that she isn't anyone special, but I tell you that she is. She is amazing. She is one of the most thoughtful people you'll ever meet, and this Christmas? More than anything, I want to bless her as much as she has blessed me. This Christmas, my mother is my greatest Christmas blessing.

Faith and Influence

At 6 years old, I had my first church experience. I remember going into the basement of Hopewell Wesleyan Church on Alexis Road in Toledo, Ohio and getting to sing to my heart's content while Sharon Craig taught us song after song. "Get on board the gospel train, and your life will never be the same!" It was true. My life was never the same again. And so Sharon became my first spiritual mentor, though she would never have suspected what her influence on my life meant to me then or now...

To read the rest of this post, please wander over to The Intentional Journey, a blog project featuring multiple authors who have incredible stories to share with you. This will link you directly to my post about some of my own spiritual mentors, and then you can explore the rest of the posts at your leisure! 

Telling the Story

I got my first journal when I was in 7th grade from my Great Aunt Ruby. She wrote on the tag "key on back cover" and I thought it said, "key on wrap paper." It was years before I discovered that key inside the back cover. If you had read her writing, you would completely understand! 

I began writing in it immediately. I remember that I began my first several entries with "Dear Diary" before realizing that I wasn't really the "Diary" type. It reminded me of a Judy Blume character. I wasn't talking to a book. My journal was between me and Jesus. After that, I just wrote about whatever was on my mind as if no one in particular would ever see it, but I always knew that God knew exactly what those pages said. 

In junior high and even high school, I remember writing a lot about boys. I wasn't overtly boy crazy. I didn't date a lot in high school, but my journals from those days definitely tell a story about a girl who liked a few boys but wasn't brave enough to tell them.

My first date is in my high school journal. My first big break-up. The story of a failed scholarship audition followed by a couple much more successful auditions. Prom. Graduation. Parties. I loved high school, and my journal certainly reflects that.

I was thinking about this today and how my journal has changed since then. While I wrote about what God was doing in my life in high school, I spent a lot more time writing about my faith in college. Since college, my faith journey is what the words on my journal pages reflects most of the time. I am glad for that.

My journals contain talks with God. Poems I've written. Scripture which spoke to me and on which I meditated. Stories of our lives. Ups. Downs. Prayer requests. Praises. Confessions. All the drama that is in my head. My journal is my story. It speaks volumes. It speaks private thoughts that I have shared with no one. I use it to work out the hard stuff, to remind me of the tough stuff that God walked me through, that He carried me through. Reading old entries is good for me. 

My journals are the story of God in my life.

There are holes in my journals, long periods of time when I didn't write anything. Life got in the way. Babies. Major moves.  Spiritually dry times. Times when I didn't connect with God daily. 

Those holes speak volumes too. They speak of how God sought me out and always brought me back. He not only accepted me, but He gathered me from afar when needed. He sought me out like every Good Shepherd does. 

Some day, I hope that my children enjoy this story of God in my life. I hope they read the struggles and the pain and the praises and the joy with every emotion that I felt as I wrote them. I hope they see a few tears in the smeared ink.  I hope they hear the laughter as I tell of the times that God moved in glorious ways. I hope that someone, someday is completely blessed by what God has done in my humble journey and that they realize what I most want them to know from reading those pages...We've all been there. We are not alone. We all hurt. We all get blessed. We all have a story.

For now, it is my story, and I will keep it to myself.

How about you? Do you tell your story somewhere? Do you blog? Journal? I know it isn't for everyone, but try it. It is amazing what God can do through something so very, very simple.

In Times of Grief

Let me start this post with a little disclaimer. This post is not about homeschooling, so please don't close the window when you see the word "Homeschool" in the post.

My second disclaimer is that this post is raw. It is where I am. Writing it was gut-wrenching. If you take the time to read it, I will be deeply honored that you chose to spend a few of your precious moments reading my words.

I get a newsletter each week called "The Homeschool Minute." I read it when the topic seems to be applicable to me, and, since it is a homeschooling newsletter, it often is. Lately, I haven't had much time for reading newsletters. Today, however, I knew this newsletter was just for me when I saw the theme in the subject line in my in-box. "In Times of Grief," so reading it wasn't optional for me this time.

This season of life? It is most certainly a time of grief. I feel like I've been here before, but it's different this time. This time, what the doctor said would happen is happening. This time, in spite of my knowledge that God can work a miracle, in spite of the fact that the doctor himself used the words, "short of a miraculous intervention," I find myself preparing for the worst case scenario because the doctor was right, afterall. The cancer did return just as he predicted.

I am not discounting God's ability to intervene. I know that He can. I know that He does. I know these things. I also know that He has gifted doctors with knowledge and abilities that I do not possess, and, while He trumps anything they say, He sometimes uses those doctors to prepare us. I know that God will heal my mama. He could choose to let her stay with us. He could work a miracle here on earth. I know this.

I also know that, sometimes, He doesn't. Sometimes, healing happens in heaven. Sometimes, His plan isn't what I want.

But I can't forget that, all the time, He is the Healer. All the time, He cares for me. All the time, His plan is perfect even if His plan isn't what I think I want.

Besides, what I want doesn't really matter. I want my mom HERE. Doesn't everyone? It's sort of selfish when you think about choosing to keep someone here versus letting them experience the perfection of heaven. I want my mom healthy, happy, and pain-free. As hard as it is to write or think or say out loud...

Healthy, happy, and pain-free are the most important to me, and, if she can only have that in heaven, then so be it.

It's crushing.

If you haven't lost a parent or someone equally as close to you, you may not understand what I'm feeling right now. 13 months ago, I didn't understand. I have lost four grandparents and a great aunt that I thought of as a grandmother, and I adored all of them, but losing them doesn't compare to what I'm going through right now.

My mother is sick. Cancer is trying to destroy her. God is in charge. I have to trust Him. I have to be willing to follow Him in spite of what happens. I hope she defeats this. I want her to live. I want God to be glorified in her life and because of her life.

No matter what happens, I choose Abba Father because His ways are perfect and His ways are not my ways. I will not pretend to understand this ever, but I will trust Him. Always. I will trust Him.

Courageous Individuality

Are you a parent? What do you want for your kids? I have a list of things that I would like to see in each of my kid's lives. I've never written it down, but I have it inside my head. Here's an example of what part of that list might look like:

• Jesus in their heart.
• Biblical character
• Evidence of the fruits of the Spirit in their lives
• Godly spouse (don't worry. I'm not hoping for this any time soon, but I am praying for this)
• Talent that they can use to serve the Lord
• Biblical World View
• Strength
• Self-esteem
• Courage
• Confident individuality

That last one is a big deal to us right now. It goes along with good self-esteem, and it has a lot to do with finding your worth in Christ rather than the world. These are things that are high priorities for us, for many Christian parents. This means that our family doesn't look like most families, and we're fine with that. We homeschool. We read the Bible every morning and have a family worship time every evening. We spend time together the way families did when families stayed together in the first half of the 20th century. We cook from scratch. We grow things. And? We allow our children to grow and mature at their own pace and to be who they are rather than expecting them to become what the world expects them to be like.

This is why we encourage our children to express themselves in a variety of ways. For our son, this means that he is writing his first piano composition, creating Lego masterpieces and writing hilarious stories for school. It means he is singing and performing and giggling his way through life, and he is using these gifts to serve the church, something he has done since he was 8. I am proud of who he is and who he is becoming.

On Monday, Lukas shared with me as we were getting ready to leave the house to run errands and go to his basketball practice that his coach wasn't being fair. I had to pause to think before I spoke because we all know that what a 10 year old decides is "fair" is very broad. Or narrow. Depending on your perspective. I asked Lukas to explain to me what was happening. He was right. She wasn't being entirely fair, but, since life isn't always fair, I decided not to run to his rescue (this was one crazy giant leap for this mama). I talked through it with him. I suggested that he speak to her himself, and I gave him a few suggestions and asked him what he might say so that he was prepared. And then? I didn't even go into the gym.

When Lukas climbed into the van after practice, I asked him if he had spoken to his coach. He did it. I was so proud of him. And? She completely understood his point-of-view and ended up allowing all the kids the opportunity to grow some skills they had been lacking. Lukas was thrilled, and I could see the confidence on his face as I realized he had just matured by 10 years (we learned about hyperbole today in school. I never use it). This was a big deal. This is the kind of strength, courage, and character we want to see in our kids. It wasn't just about him. It was about all of the kids getting what they deserved. He's a team player, and he went to bat (err...went to the basket???) for his team. I love that kid. He's pretty outstanding if I do say so myself.

For Ava, expressing herself means that she is painting, coloring, cutting, pasting, molding, creating, and making big, sloppy messes every single day. She is dancing to worship music or singing her heart out (usually through her nose. argh!). She is putting together crazy outfits that make me shudder, but this is who she is, and I wouldn't change her for the world. She loves fashion, and, while her choices are not always what I would choose, and she is still learning about matching and what kinds of shirts can be layered together and which ones just don't quite work, it is so important to her that she is allowed to express herself through her clothing, and it's fine with us. This is not a battle worth choosing because, if we did, what would happen to her self-esteem? Her individuality? Yeah. So not worth it.

Just over a year ago, for example, our battle was over socks. "But MOM, all the girls at church are wearing mismatched socks." Say what??? Craziness. That's what I thought. Then we got together with family at Christmas, and our then 16 year old niece was wearing mismatched socks. We don't necessarily subscribe to all the latest fads in our house, but this one is harmless, so I relented. Ava's socks haven't matched in over a year. I'm so used to it that I don't give it a second thought or even notice most of the time. She loves it, and, she's right. All the other girls are wearing mismatched socks(okay, so a lot of girls, but not all). In fact, did you know you can actually buy socks that don't match? On purpose???

One day last month, I came downstairs, and Ava was wearing pastel sparkly pink leggings with knees stained brown from tree climbing and sand boxes and who knows what else. Layered over the leggings were plaid shorts with bright shades of yellow, blue, pink, green and purple on them. She wore a black, long-sleeved t-shirt with a "Rock Band" t-shirt over that. It was a masterpiece. Uh-hem. I shook my head a little and smiled. This is who my daughter is. We weren't going anywhere, so who cares? Right?

I've read many times that we should say yes to our children as much as possible. I actually haven't taken much time to think about that parenting philosophy, but in this case, it is very applicable. I let Ava choose her clothes because it is important to her. If we are leaving the house, I am more specific about what she can or cannot wear. But this freedom I am giving her to express herself? It is shaping her. It is molding her into who Jesus wants her to be. 

There are nay-sayers who believe I am ruining her. I am not. I am watching her learn to create outfits that look amazing. Sure, she's 8, so she gets it wrong more than she gets it right, but who cares? She's happy exploring her closet. When she isn't, she'll wear something different. Right? She is practicing individuality that is unstained by the world's expectations. If that is wrong, then I want to be wrong.

I love who this daughter of mine is. I want more of what she has. Courageous, confident individuality, unaltered by the world's expectations. She is who she is, and she is awesome. She takes my breath away.

Christmas Presence

I wrote this post for the Intentional Journey. This month, we're focusing on Christmas memories and the magic that comes around this time of year. Click on over and see what other authors have written this month!

December 1987. I was 11. I was an angel in our elementary school's Christmas program that year, and I had one single line. "Glory to God in the highest. Peace on earth. Good will toward men." I was, by no means, the star of the show, but I was excited about my part. 

The only issue darkening my excitement a little that year was that my daddy was going to miss the performance. Dad worked out of state for years, doing whatever it took to support our family. I don't remember where he was working that winter, but I imagine that it was somewhere warmer than Ohio since he made a career of building cable television systems. I don't remember having a conversation about Dad missing the show, but I remember wishing that he would be there.

The night of the performance was so exciting. We were performing in the high school auditorium, which was a pretty big deal to a bunch of elementary school kids. Children were running all over the place speaking too loudly and trying to be still in spite of the anticipation of performing. We were all being ushered here and there until it was time to perform. The play began with my friends Zach and Dani playing the lead roles. I stepped up to the microphone with two other girls all dressed as angels ready to announce the coming of Jesus. 

As my eyes panned the auditorium, I saw a shadow.

A man was leaning against the left wall of the auditorium toward the back of the room. 

Dad.

There was no mistaking him even with the shining stage lights in my eyes.

To say that I delivered that line with all my heart would be a vast understatement. My dad was there to see me! He drove all the way home in the middle of the week to see me perform. My one line may have seemed small in the big scheme of things, but his presence during that performance was huge. He was there, and it meant the world to me.

Being there for that elementary Christmas program was inconvenient. Dad had to drive all day and miss work to make it happen. He went above and beyond the call of duty as a father to be there at a moment when my little girl heart wanted him to be there more than anything, when anyone realistic would have understood if he wasn't able to make it. 

Those sacrifices made by my dad on that day have left me with a precious, childhood memory that I will never forget, a memory that comes to mind every December whenever I hear the Christmas story from the book of Luke. It reminds me to always thank Jesus for a daddy who wanted to be there and a heavenly Father who knew how important that was to this little girl.

And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God and saying, "Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men."

Luke 2:13-14

Acknowledging God

Head on over to The Intentional Journey to see my most recent post called Acknowledging God. The Intentional Journey is a collaborative blog featuring several different authors who all possess (from my understanding) a biblical worldview. None of us are in the exact same place in our journey toward heaven, but we are all intentional about our journey, which is why my friend, Chris, brought us all together to form this blog. After you check out my post, meander through a few others. Some of them are pretty good!

Loneliness in the Journey

I am so glad for the break that is being provided to me because I committed to writing this post for Intentional Journey. I need the break right now. I'm in the midst of the chaos that is school planning for our upcoming school year. For the past few summers, I have started planning earlier, toward the beginning of August, used a boxed curriculum and had friends who were a year ahead of me in said boxed curriculum (great resource). This year, I have none of those things in place since Eric and I decided the boxed curriculum wasn't working for our kids anymore, and, because June and July were such busy months for our family, we took it easy for most of August. I don't regret that. I needed it. Eric needed it (technically, he only took it easy on the weekends and evenings). My kids needed it. All of these things have, however, caused school planning to be a little more chaotic and stressful than usual, which is totally fine, but this break to write is so appreciated.

I get so many questions about homeschooling. 1. "Why do you do homeschool?" 2."Will you do this forever?" or, one of my least favorites, "When will you put them into school?" 3. "Do you get a tax break for curriculum?" 4. "Does the school district provide curriculum?" or "What curriculum do you use?" 5. "What about socialization (my true least favorite)?"

So, in short...1. God called us to it. 2. Yes. Forever and ever, and they won't go to school until college if they should so choose. 3. Ha!!! NO. 4. No. We use a variety of different resources for curriculum, and, while a few are free via the internet, most of them come out of our pocket. 5. What about it??? Have you met my kids?

I think that too many people look at us as if we are weird, counter-cultural Christians that they just can't relate to, or they disagree with our calling to the extent that the harshness of their judgment prevents them from forming a true relationship with us. In some cases we have even lost relationships with friends due to this calling from the Lord. Sometimes, this trail that we blaze is lonely. As much as I hear some homeschoolers scoff at the many questions  our public and private schooling peers ask of us, I welcome them because it is my hope that it means that someone wants to know not just about this journey, but also about me, what I do and the things that are closest to my heart. I am that homeschooling mom. The lonely one. The one who sometimes really needs someone to swim to her island rather than always having to row her boat against the tide to get to them. So, please, ask your questions. I will answer them as well as I can.

While this journey has lonely seasons, I am grateful for it. God has done and continues to do incredible things for our family through our homeschool. Because of our obedience in choosing different curriculum this year, the Lord has allowed our Bible study and devotional time to come together like never before. I'm so excited about what we're going to be doing with our kids this year! This is the most important part of our child training, the part that I wish more Christian parents would do whether or not they homeschool. 

This year, we'll continue our family study of Our 24 Family WaysSimply Charlotte Mason. I believe this is exactly what the Lord has for us right now, and He is going to transform our family through it! Instead of Eric teaching one thing during our daily family worship time while I teach something completely different in the morning, the Lord directed us to coordinate the two things. It may sound simple and almost unimportant to have these two times of our day be cohesive, but I was pretty much married to the boxed curriculum the past few years, so this is a big deal for us! in the evening while incorporating the Bible memory work into our morning devotional that I do with the kids at the start of our school day. We're also using this fantastic idea for a scripture memorization box that I found at

We believe that the Lord can only do the great things He desires to do through us if we walk in faith and obedience, and homeschooling is part of that. The choice we are making is not whether to homeschool or not. The choice is obedience to the Lord.

More than anything, we want the glory of God to shine in our lives. Our family has not arrived at this, but we are working toward it. These steps of obedience and these reminders from God that He is directing our footsteps, take us closer and closer to that light permeating our individual lives, our family and our home. It is worth a little loneliness to experience that. It is worth a little loneliness to know that the most important relationship in our lives is in order because we are obeying Him. 

That said, if you have a homeschooling family in your church, I challenge you to befriend them. Reach out. They may really need your friendship. It may open your mind to another point-of-view that will challenge you. Your willingness to step out of your comfort zone will likely be a blessing to you and to the family. The Lord designed us for relationships. We need you more than you realize.

I guess I should wrap this up and get back to lesson planning. This little vulnerable window will likely be followed up with others in the future on my personal blog. My newest goal is to be open about our homeschooling journey rather than trying to explain it away or to try to fit in with everyone else. This is my journey. Our journey. And we have bumps in our road. Even so...we love this journey. I could never have imagined this blessing. I am...grateful.

The Influence of Mothering

Mothering is a deeply complicated subject these days, isn't it? I have written posts recently that have gotten me into a little trouble even though my motives were pure (but only because people read between the lines and found things that weren't there). Even so, I'm going to attempt another post on this topic, a topic that should be so simple and sweet but is utterly complex and too often controversial these days.


Everyone has their own idea about the things that mothering concerns these days. Few subscribe to a June Clever-esque concept of motherhood, fewer care to be grain grinding, goat milking, garden growing hippie chicks, and even fewer subscribe to a truly Biblical model of motherhood. Wouldn't it have been fantastic if God just spelled it out for us in intricate detail that left no room for error? He kind of does. Check out Titus 2 if you're interested in learning about Biblical womanhood as the Lord defines it for us. I don't live to perfection, but I do try to live by this passage of scripture.


That is not really what I want to talk about in this post. It definitely applies to what is on my mind, but it was more or less a free bit of info for your benefit. What I really want to talk about is how women define their worth. It breaks my heart when I hear one who is called "Mama" say that they aren't doing enough to serve the church or community, that they don't "feel" like their life brings enough to the table, that they need to be "doing more" so that they are truly having an effect on the lives of those within their circle of influence.


Um. What??? Mothering is enough. I don't care if you work outside the home or if you don't. Mothering is enough. Mothering provides you with an opportunity to influence not just a few lives, but the lives of future generations in a way that no one else could. The opportunity a mother has is unmatched. Your children, your grandchildren, your great, great great grandchildren will all be influenced by you. Why isn't this enough for the modern woman? 100 years ago, women wouldn't even have given such an ungodly thought the time of day because they were taught to care for their husbands, children and homes in a way that brought glory to God. They were taught that these tasks themselves brought glory to God!!!


The work you do outside your home at a job, church, or community organization pales in comparison to the work you do in your home. If you don't feel like you are valuable, then I dare say you are defining yourself by the wrong standard. The world has unfortunately influenced the church, and that same world may tell you that it is okay to feel like you need more to feel like you are being used, but it just isn't true. You are looking for your value in all the wrong places (did that line just bring up an old love song for you? Totally accidental).


If you are seeking outside opportunities to serve or influence others, I challenge you to look inward. Your children don't need you to be busy. The Father gave them to you so that you could be their greatest influencer. Take it seriously. They'll be gone some day, and then you'll have plenty of time to influence your church, community and co-workers.


You, Mother, are doing God's work when you are choosing to serve at home. Mothering is a noble calling, and we should never look at our lives as if we are not doing enough because we remember those other talents and gifts we have. This is your season to mother. Do it with passion. Do it with grace, hope, diligence, fortitude and honor. When you are through and you are surrounded by healthy, Christ-like adults, your children will rise up and call you blessed!

The Revolt of 2020, A Book Review

I am generally a reader of historical fiction, but my dad asked me to read this book, so I decided to give it a try even though it is not my normal favored genre. I was actually surprised by the fact that the content was more captivating than I expected it to be. Even though it is outside my pleasure reading mindset, I very much enjoyed reading the book and even felt challenged by it. That's not too bad for a work of fiction, is it?

The Revolt of 2020 by Dr. Patrick Johnston is a futuristic novel which takes it plot from social, political and spiritual issues that have plagued our nation for decades. Abortion, assisted suicide and homosexuality are themes that run throughout the book. The main characters in this novel (which, incidentally is the first of a trilogy) are pro-life to the extreme, and their intensity of approach takes them to the front steps of abortion clinics and protest rallies across the nation. These Christian fundamentalist protagonists are contrasted with extreme left, socialist characters throughout the book which makes for an intense storyline.

When the building in which the President of the United States is speaking is suddenly blown up during an explosion at a Reproductive Rights rally, the plot takes a turn that causes these protagonists to become public enemy #1 in a situation in which they are presumed guilty even though there is no evidence of their involvement. The Vice President is sworn into office as the new President of the country, and it becomes clear that her socialist regime is ready to take over the country.

Throughout the novel you will find plot twists that involve possible state secession, hostile government take-overs, unjust laws passed for the benefit of the masses resulting in the removal of rights for the individual, rioting, arrests, and more. Does any of that sound familiar? Prophetic maybe? 

While this novel is fiction, it clearly takes its roots in possible future events. I found myself wondering how much of this could and would come true for our country. I found myself challenged and wondering what my role should be in the fight to protect the unborn citizens of our country. Have I been too passive in my approach? Have I done enough? Have any of us done enough?

Obviously, you can tell that this book will make you think. It will do this while captivating you with the twists and turns. I won't say that everything in the novel is 100% believable or that I agree with some of the intentional stereotyping of characters that is thrown about here and there, but I found the book to be interesting and thought-provoking. If you read it, drop me a comment so that I can hear what you have to say!

As far as I know, this book is not yet available in book stores, but you can find it at Amazon.com by clicking HERE.

Holding Tightly

I wrote the following post for The Intentional Journey. The topic for the past week's posts has been grief, so wander over there and see some of the powerful, exceptionally moving posts that others have written. Bring some tissues. I went through several when I was reading them, but sometimes tears are good. Below you will find my post.

I committed to writing this post thinking that it would be pretty straight forward. I knew that I would have to dig deep in order for the guts of the post to be meaningful. I've experienced grief in a variety of forms, so, while I knew tears would be a part of this post, it didn't seem like writing it would cause me that much frustration. I was so wrong. This is re-write number 6 or 7. The first two tries didn't even make it past the first paragraph.

Grief has tapped on my door many times. Loss of loved ones. Infertility. Job loss. Interstate moves. National tragedies. All of those things brought me through various stages of grief. Some of those things still deliver grief to my doorstep occasionally, but they all pale in comparison to watching my mom suffer from cancer.

Prior to this season of my life, I would have told you that secondary infertility was the hardest thing I had ever experienced in my life. Watching others have child after child is so hard for those of us who suffer from this. We mourn the absence of the children we dream of, the children we believe God still has for us, month after month, year after year. We watch as others "accidentally" conceive, and we absolutely do not understand when they heartlessly try to explain their feelings about their unexpected (and sometimes unwanted) surprise to us knowing how desperately we want another baby. It's crushing. I am thrilled when someone shares their pregnancy news with me. Don't get me wrong. I truly am thrilled. Holding my niece and nephews when they were babies are some of the happiest memories for me, and I love holding anyone's little one when given the opportunity. Even so, that desperate longing for my own babies has brought grief to my door for years.

Still, when it comes down to it, nothing compares to the grief I have experienced in the past four months. My mom was diagnosed with uterine cancer at the end of December. I refused to google it. I refused to ask too many questions. I chose to ignore "it." I didn't say cancer. I didn't confront cancer. I pretended that cancer was something that only effected someone else. I assumed the best prognosis would belong to my mother. I tried not to think about cancer at all. Cancer. Cancer. Cancer. I hated the word. Still do. My reaction to this news was so polar opposite to how I normally handle the tough issues in life that I can't even explain to you why I reacted this way. I would never have imagined that I would behave like this.

Two days before Mom's surgery to remove her cancer, I decided I should know something about this form of cancer and that I should probably try to act like a grown-up. I googled uterine cancer and found that the prognosis is usually pretty good, that, if it is found early, it is almost always curable these days. Mom's cancer was found early. We had hope. The doctors expected to find stage 1 cancer and planned a hysterectomy so we headed to the hospital to get the job done.

When the doctor came to speak to Dad and me as we waited in the enormous waiting area at The Ohio State University's James Cancer Center, one of the top cancer centers in the nation, we were stunned to silence. We knew Mom had an amazing doctor. We knew that whatever he had to say would be accurate and real. He showed up in the waiting area too early. We knew it wasn't good. Even now as I remember it, my heart is pounding in my chest and tears are threatening to flow down my cheeks.

As I listened to the doctor, I tried to choke out questions rather than the sobs I was fighting. Stage 4. 2-3 months if she didn't have chemo. 2-3 years if she did. It'll mostly likely come back. Aggressive. Cancer.

Cancer.

Cancer.

After living through the next several days which I can barely remember, anger showed up. I mean, seriously? 2-3 years with my mom? Not good enough. Watching my mom possibly die in her 50s? Not part of my personal plan. Seeing her in pain? Watching her become exhausted and lose her hair because of strong doses of chemotherapy? Seeing the grief on her face and hearing it in her voice and knowing that her life is an emotional roller coaster right now? Watching Dad's heart break with the news? None of this is supposed to happen. I want 2-3 decades with Mom. She's 53. Isn't that reasonable?

Cancer...makes my heart break. It makes my chest tight. It makes me want to scream or be silent...or both.

My mama has cancer. I want to fix it. I can't.

So grief? Yeah. I've experienced it. Right now, I'm experiencing it like never before, and I hate it. I am not always moving forward the way I would like. I am not always making the choices I expected myself to make. I am not always understanding my emotions or why the silliest things make me cry. Last week, I bought the same body wash that mom buys just to have something like hers in the house. Ridiculous! When I use it, I cry! Why do I do these things to myself?

If nothing else is good in this situation, I am glad that I have a God who is seeing me through it. What I can't imagine is how someone does this without Jesus. When I think about that, my heart breaks all over again in a completely different way. I couldn't do this without Him. I couldn't watch Mom's hair thin and hear her talk about exhaustion and nausea without knowing that He was going to carry her through this and that He will carry me through it too.

I don't know His plan. I don't know how long I have with my mom. Any of us could die tomorrow if we really get down to it. The only certainty I have is that HE knows the plans He has for me, and those plans are good and perfect. Whatever He has for me, I'll take it because it doesn't compare to what He went through on the cross. That's what gets me out of bed.

I'm such a selfish girl. The thought of possibly losing my mom and having to wait to see her in heaven doesn't bring me comfort right now. It will some day. I know it will. But now? I want her here for always. I want to always be able to call her for recipes, to chat about my kids, to talk about everything and nothing at all, to have lunch dates and shopping sprees...

Sigh.

I love my mama. I'm so grateful for this time I have with her. I'll cherish every moment. If nothing else, I have already learned that these moments we have are fleeting. Grab hold of them and don't let go until you have to. I'm holding tighter than ever before.