Like grains of sand through the hour glass...

Well, I turned 59 yesterday. Funny, I don't feel any different than I did the day before. Some people dread birthdays but not me. I love them and want to have as many as the Lord will allow me to have. I had a very pleasant, enjoyable day in the company of my husband. It was great to hear from each of my children--all three on the same day! I'm a blessed woman and grateful for each and every precious day I get to be here.

I have to confess though that I spent a good many days thinking of my mother leading up to this birthday. You see, she was just one month past her 59th birthday when God called her home. I wasn't there to see her off and have regretted that to this very day. There will be a great day of reunion someday though-- with me and my Momma-- and that thought makes me very happy! There will be other reunions but I especially look forward with great anticipation to that one!

Life is so full of joy and pain--love and loss. I cannot comprehend how one lives a life without an anchor. The Anchor. I speak of Jesus. My Rock and my refuge. It is only in Him that I find balance to the days that my life consist of. To God be the glory!

Dear friend, if you happen to find yourself in need of an an anchor, a refuge, a rock, a hiding place, I ask you to consider Jesus.

Blessings of peace & all that is good,

Debra

"The LORD is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer; my God is my rock, in whom I take refuge. He is my shield and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold."Psalm 18:2

Dreams

I had a dream the other day.

At least I think it was a dream. My husband was awake at the time and states he can testify to the fact that I was indeed dreaming. I don't normally dream much when I am sleeping or at least I never remember what I dream--but this dream was so very real and it troubled me somewhat. Here's the dream.

I dreamed someone knocked on my bedroom window three times. They were very clear, loud, forceful knocks. Like *KNOCK* *KNOCK* *KNOCK*!

It woke me up and I ran down the hall to the den where my husband was sitting. I said, did you hear that? He said no, he had not heard anything at all and that I was just dreaming. But it was so very real.

Made me wonder if it was suppose to mean something. I mean was God trying to call on me for something? Did my neighbor need me? Did my children or grandchildren need me for something?

Or was it just a silly dream?

I dunno...but if I ever find out I'll let you know.

I've had other dreams. Not in the going to sleep and dreaming kind of dreams, but dreams of the heart, mind, and who knows daydreams. I dream these same dreams all. the. time.

I dream that I could actually string together two or three sentences and actually put together a paragraph. You see in my head and in my heart I'm a writer. But somewhere between my head and my heart it gets blocked in making it to the keyboard. Perhaps that is what they mean by "lost in translation". Sometimes just in trying to make a comment on a blog I will write, erase, write, erase, write, erase and then just quit trying. Today's post is just my desperate attempt to not give up... completely.

I dream I run marathons. Paula Radcliffe is the women's world record holder. She ran 26.2 miles in 2 hours 15 minutes and 25 seconds. I dream about what it would feel like to do that. I dream about just walking half that distance. I even dream what it would feel like to walk to town and back! Six miles max! And yet I dream.

I dream that I could do great and mighty and noble things for God. Yet I seem to fail Him in the smallest of testings from time to time. And yet I dream.

Is it healthy to have dreams that may never be realized? Is it a good thing to just keep plugging along doing the best we can and live with just the hope that one day our dreams will be realized? Hope can't be a bad thing right?

My bible talks a lot about hope. Hope for today--hope for tomorrow.

Here's hoping that all our dreams will come true.

(And if not all of them at least some small measure of them)


A belated Happy New Year to the one or two bloggers that may still be coming this way. Blessings,

Debra

*******Christmas Memories*******

Love is what's in the room with you at Christmas if you stop opening presents and listen.
~Author unknown, attributed to a 7-year-old named Bobby~

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year Everyone. May God bless you all with joy and peace as we go into the new year!

A Fruit Case--Would To God That I Might Be!

"But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness, goodness, faith,meekness, temperance: against such there is no law."
(Galations 5:22-23)

A Season Of Change

Isn't fall just the most beautiful time of the year?

This photo was taken two years ago. My husband was standing on a corner in Secaucus, New Jersey. It was a breathtaking, glorious kind of a day. I recall the air feeling crisp and smelling clean--no, I was not dreaming! New Jersey sometimes bears the brunt of jokes by New Yorkers, but personally speaking, I rather like New Jersey.

We had a wonderful trip that year to the city. The fall foliage was so brilliant! Central Park and the areas around the Hudson River were just gorgeous. I know... who but moi goes to the city to see the fall foliage right?

I've been noticing how quickly seasons change these days. One day you are hanging a bright flowery spring wreath on your front door and seemingly the next day your putting up autumn decorations.

Just yesterday my home was filled with noisy, happy, sometimes bickering children. There was a neverending stream of places to carry them to and events they needed to attend. I wondered if the day would ever come they would be grown and on their own.

That was yesterday--yesterday was thirty-nine years ago.

The house is quiet now. And that day did come and now my children are grown and on their own. Funny thing is-- they now have noisy, happy, sometimes bickering children of their own.

There is a coolness and unexpected chill in the air. I ache in strange places--my bones and joints are growing humps and knots where once there were spaces. Change, change, change everywhere.

Something tells me winter is near.


"Even to your old age and gray hairs I am he, I am he who will sustain you. I have made you and I will carry you; I will sustain you and I will rescue you." Isaiah 46:4(NIV)
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The Sixth Commandment

The following post is over two years old. I never had the courage to post it till tonight. Why tonight? Well it just seemed to be an appropriate time since the state of Georgia just minutes ago executed Troy Anthony Davis. I don't know if Troy Davis was guilty or not guilty. Can juries be wrong? Were they wrong in the case of O.J. Simpson? Were they wrong about Casey Anthony? What I do know is that now two people are dead--Troy Anthony Davis and Mark MacPhail (the police officer that Davis was found guilty of killing). Two families will mourn.

Does killing + killing ever equal peace? Perhaps so, I don't know. I've never had a family member murdered so I can't say for sure how I would feel. But I don't think that would bring me peace or resolution.

I wonder what Jesus would do. I wonder if He would inject the syringe full of potassium chloride into someone be they a murderer or not. And if Jesus would not then I have to ask myself would I? Could I? And should WE? I know...I wonder too much...

On this night, I offer peace and strength to the MacPhail and Davis families.


June 6th, 2010

Intense discussions within my family circle lately concerning the death penalty. No, no one in our family is on death row. Sometimes we just "talk" about things like this :)

And, as is usual, I'm in the minority. I am against it and my husband and others is for it. I'm also profoundly against abortion, if that scores me any points.

You see, I take the sixth commandment quite literally. "Thou Shalt Not Kill". Some that revere the King James version of the bible, and I am one that does, translate the word "kill" to "murder". Personally, I see no difference between being killed or murdered. Either way, one ends up grave yard dead.

I didn't always feel this way about the death penalty. So much of who and what I was changed when I had cancer. Staring the possibility of death in the face will do that to you. It changes you, softens and smooths your harsh, jagged edges. At least it did mine...most of them.

Who am I to take a life? Who am I to be judge and jury, deciding whether one might live or die? What are the events that happen in ones life that lead them to take someone else's life? Are monsters made or are they just born that way?

DH and I had an oh so deep conversation about this subject tonight. He quoted me all the scriptures that he believed supported his position and I quoted him all of the ones that supported mine. Might I add, my scriptures are written in red.

As a nurse, I've stood by the bedside of quite a few as they took their final breaths, when life left their body. The finality of it can be overwhelming. You wonder where that soul really went. Of a certainty, the opportunity to make any decision for Christ sake is forever over.

Our discussion was coming to a close when my husband offered one last statement. He said that he could NEVER, in good conscience, sit on a jury that was deciding a death penalty case. Said he would have to ask to be excused.

I smiled at him, and as softly and gently as I possibly could, asked him, "Why?"

He smiled back at me, walked across the room, and kissed me goodnight.

I'm still waiting for his answer.

Blessed are the merciful: for they shall obtain mercy. (Matthew 5:7 KJV)

Hurricane Irene

I am quite concerned tonight for my East Coast fb and Blogger friends. Katrina still still grieves me to think about it.

One word of caution I woudl like to give anyone who is in the potential pathway of the large strorm is to please go to your bank tomorrow and get as much cash as you possibly can.

If Hurricane Irene affects your area with power outages it will be very difficult to get cash...no matter how much money you have in the bank. Banks will be closed and if they are open they will tell you like they did me in Katrina. Sorry...we can only give you $200 because everyone else is also needing cash so they ration it out. Doesn't mattter how much cash you have in the bank they will give you only a few hundred dollars.

Just wanted to leave those few words of caution.

Please know that here in good ole South Mississippi our thoughts and prayers will be with you. Hopefully it won't be as bad as it looks

August Ponderings

(nearby lake, I was rather pleased with this shot)

So, tonight is Friday night. Everyone around here is all excited as it is the first night for high school football. Is it just me or is it strange that these poor football players are having to practice and play football in 100 degree weather? I know I'm getting a little old but I can remember when school started in late September and for sure it was unheard of before Labor Day.

(bird house by the lake)

Noticing this bird house by the lake I was immediately reminded of the following scripture..."Behold the fowls of the air: for they sow not, neither do they reap, nor gather into barns; yet your heavenly Father feedeth them. Are ye not much better than they?" Matthew 6:26

(Son and daughter in law helping me with router problems)

Recently, I had router problems. One evening I had my daughter, son and daughter in law over and they decided to try and tackle the problem. I found it kind of funny when I looked into the bedroom and counted not one, not two, not three but four computers in the mix of things. I thought about how far we've come with technology from the days when the television was a very small tube in a very large wood box. We recently got out some old home movies when I was a child about 1956 and I was amazed by the old black and white TV set we had.

I'm not one of the lucky ones going to the game as tonight begins my weekend to work. Five 12hours shifts in a row. I should say weekend and Monday and Tuesday! I find myself thankful though. Thankful I have a job, thankful for a nice house to come home to and blessed with loved ones. Just call me thankful.

Blessings everyone hope your weekend will be great!

THEY THAT GO DOWN TO THE SEA

(My grandson Brock and myself)

It seems like just yesterday he was just a baby. My first born grandchild. Next Wednesday, he will be among the newest recruits of the United States Navy.

Where did the time go and why does my heart hurt? Not a physical pain mind you but the type of pain that any mother or grandmother would need no explanation for.

I hope his new boss knows what a deal he is getting. What a treasure. If it's courage, honor and commitment this boss is looking for...well, he just hit the lottery.

I'm so proud of him. My thoughts and prayers will be with him as he makes this transition. I covet your prayers as well.

God bless you Brock, we love you so much.

"Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn't do than by the ones you did. So throw off your bowlines. Sail away from safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore, Dream, Discover."~Mark Twain~

"They that go down to the sea in ships, that do business in great waters;
These see the works of the LORD, and his wonders in the deep." ~Psalm 107:23-24

Necessary Journeys: Part II
Port Sulfur, Louisiana

On a rather dreary, rainy Saturday, my husband and I left New Orleans and headed south to what many folks refer to as "the end of the world."

It's nicknamed "the end of the world" because its southern most town Venice, is located about 75 miles south of New Orleans and is situated on the west bank of the Mississippi river.


I was born in a little town north of Venice called Port Sulfur. My parents lived there a very brief time before moving back to New Orleans.It had been more than twenty perhaps thirty years since I had made the journey down to that part of the county. There was not a lot there when I was a child except oil wells, fishing boats and bar rooms. Then there was Katrina in 2005 that destroyed everything. I had a deep longing to go back and see? See what? I wished I knew.


My mother had two sisters and a brother that lived in this area. One of those sisters had orange tree orchards just like this one. I recall how we used to play in the orchards on hot summer days. I remember heat, humidity and mosquitoes...lots and lots of mosquitoes.


And so I had made it here. And just as I had thought there were still many signs of hurricane Katrina plain and visible for all to see. Even the sulfur refining company for which the town is named for is no longer there. Most folks are still living in trailers. Some of the businesses are operated from trailer like structures.


I had kind of thought I might find the actual place where I was born. It was once just a little white wooded building that was situated among many trees. We stopped and asked one of the elder locals if he knew where the old hospital was. He did know and directed us right to where it once stood.

One of the first things I noticed was how very close to the Gulf of Mexico it was. Here we are in our car on the levee overlooking the gulf. This levee is about fifty yards from where the little hospital once stood. Is it any wonder why I have such an affinity for water?


Here is the little group of trees where my journey began. I was happy to find it and unable to articulate why, but my thoughts went something like this. "See here it is! This is it! Yes sir ree! One day fifty-eight years ago my Momma came right here to this very spot and gave birth to me!" I wondered how things went for her--did she experience a lot of pain? How long was she in labor? From my birth certificate I recall weighing in at just a little over nine pounds and made my debut entrance into this world on the night shift. Funny thing huh?

I had to post this picture just for proof that you do ride down Hwy 23 look up and watch boats go by. This boat was on the east side of the road so it was traveling on the Mississippi river. East side River--west side Gulf of Mexico.

It was good to see that even the people "at the end of the world" still have hope. Without the cross how hopeless we all would be.

I asked my husband to let's just drive until the road ends. I wanted to go all the way to the very end of "the end of the world."



I was hoping to find the end of the road, perhaps a sunset, a rainbow maybe? Nope...we found water. Water on the left, water on the right and water straight ahead. It is a land located below sea level...add a little rain and this is what you get. We probably got within a half mile before the end and decided not to push our luck and car one more inch and turned around. I didn't think our little car would make it but it did.

Water is a good thing though. Water equals life. And the end of the road is not always what it seems and that is a good thing as well. I was happy to have made this journey.

The End Of The Road Is But A Bend In The Road
by Helen Steiner Rice


When we feel we have nothing left to give
And we are sure that the "song has ended"--
When our day seems over and the shadows fall
And the darkness of night has descended,

Where can we go to find the strength
To valiantly keep on trying,
Where can we find the hand that will dry
The tears that the heart is crying--

There's but one place to go and that is to God
And, dropping all pretense and pride,
We can pour out our problem without restraint
And gain strength with Him at our side--

And together we stand at life's crossroads
And view what we think is the end,
But God has a much bigger vision
And he tells us it's only a bend--

For the road goes on and is smoother,
And the "pause in the song" is a "rest,"
And the part that's unsung and unfinished
Is the sweetest and richest and best--

So rest and relax and grow stronger,
Let go and let God share your load,
Your work is not finished or ended,
You've just come to "a bend in the road."

Blessings of peace & all that is good.

NECESSARY JOURNEYS: Part I


"We all grow up with the weight of history on us. Our ancestors dwell in the attics of our brains as they do in the spiraling chains of knowledge hidden in every cell of our bodies." ~Shirley Abbott~

(Mississippi River Bridge, New Orleans)

What is it about getting older and that longing to search ones roots? Why do we (I) often look back--want to reexamine--take a second look at where we come from and the people, places and things that have been part of our history and how we became who we are? Is this just something old people do? Will I next find myself buried in genealogy books at my local library? Who knows?

(Canal Street)

It seems we spend the first half of our lives growing, moving,ever distancing ourselves, and claiming independence from childhood as much as and as fast as possible. And then the paradoxical happens. We end up spending our later adult years yearning for and looking back on our youths. Longing to rediscover what once was and did we somehow overlook something the first time around.

(Locating the old D.H. Holmes building on Canal)

On a recent weekend my husband and travel companion extraordinaire set out on a mission with me to find Ignatius J. Reilly and the site of my birth place Port Sulfur, La. What does one have to do with the other? Nothing really but perhaps much. And who is Ignatius J. Reilly anyway?

(Meet me "under the clock")

I had just completed reading John Kennedy Toole's "Confederacy of Dunces." I happened upon this book quite by chance on the Amazon website. It was an unusual read for me. A completely bizarre, zany satire whose main character is Ignatius J. Reilly. He is a most unlikeable misfit along with a whole host of equally unlikeable characters as well. It is not a book I would recommend to just anyone to read. What drew me in particular to the book was it's early 1960's New Orleans setting and the pitch perfect dialogue that is unique only to that area. Ignatius family, friends, and escapades reminded me of some of my own long ago and forgotton eras of times past. Of course it helps that I am easily drawn to those that are flawed and Ignatius surely fit that bill to a tee.

(Finding Ignatius)

Because page one opens with Ignatius waiting for his mother under the clock in front of the D. H. Holmes department store, a bronze statue of him was erected there a few years ago. I can't tell you how many times I visited this store with my grandmother as a child. She would buy the best warm cashew peanuts there! The building is now apartment condos but the store front windows are still the same. The clock is in the original location as well.

There is the story behind the story. In 1981 John Kennedy Toole was posthumously awarded the Pulitzer Prize in fiction for this his first and only novel. Eleven years earlier he had committed suicide. His mother stated that he had become severely depressed because Confederacy of Dunces had been rejected for publication. After his death she shopped the manuscript around for seven long years before finally seeing it to publication.

The Toole family were life long residents of New Orleans. They resided within a few blocks of where I lived as a child.

Sometimes the circle of life can be quite amazing.


"I call to remembrance my song in the night: I commune with mine own heart: and my spirit made diligent search." Psalm 77:6

Hot Air

Hello everyone and greetings from south Mississippi! Hope all of you had a very happy and safe fourth of July. This year we celebrated the fourth a little differently. Well actually we celebrated on the second of July.

I don't know about you but I tend to keep an internal "bucket list" of places I would like to visit and things I would like to do. I have always enjoyed looking at pictures of the Arizona Balloon Festival and hoped to one day see it in person.

Imagine my surprise when I found out they have a balloon festival every year in Canton, MS! Just an hour and a half from our home! The day was extra special in that we got to enjoy it with five of our youngest grandchildren. What a blessing.

The children just loved these!

Yep! They even had a space shuttle balloon! What fun! This thing was huge!

Hope all of you will forgive my blog laziness. I have been bogged down with some books that have captured my attention of late. I am even reading some fiction! Imagine that! Books have a very calming effect on me and I enjoy reading them so very much.

Have I mentioned it's hot here in Mississippi? I am not complaining though ...nope...not one bit!

(At least not as long as my air conditioner is running anyway)

All I Ever Wanted

My Granny was a good woman and happiness resided in her kitchen--more specifically, in her oven. Seems like no matter what time of the day or night we arrived to visit , almost immediately she would begin to pull out warm bowls of deliciousness from her oven.

One of my favorite dishes of hers were her butter beans. Not ordinary butter beans I tell ya... but the kind that turned gray in the pot! I think they were called "speckled butter beans" and they came straight from her garden.


Now when Granny set the table, she used real dishes--I don't know if Granny even knew plastic and paper dishes existed. Corn bread and biscuits went on a certain platter. Roast always went into a certain dish as well as the peas, macaroni and fried chicken.

And always, always, always the gray butter beans went into the bowl with the gray/bluish clover leaves on it!

My Granny passed away at the age of 93 some twenty-eight years ago. I have no idea what happened to the "butter bean bowl". What I can tell you is that for twenty-eight years, every time I entered a flea market or antique store (and there have been many) I looked for Granny's butter bean bowl. I thought if I could just find one that looked like it that would be enough for me.

But that never happened.

At least not until the other day. The hubby and I visited an antique store in a small town about 30 miles west of where we live. As I entered the store that day I did something I had not done in previous trips. While browsing through the aisles I whispered a small prayer to God and asked Him to please let me find Granny's butter bean bowl. I admitted to Him it was probably a silly request but after all these years I still longed for that little reminder of my Granny's love and faithfulness. Just a token.

I again chastised my own self as I continued to shop. Who prays for dishes? Doesn't God have bigger problems to solve?

By this time I was in the very back of the store. I was alone as Hubby had already made his way up to the second floor. Casually, my eyes came to rest on a bottom shelf. Amid all of the whatnots and bric-a-brac there was a bowl sitting there with a plate on top of it. For some reason I stooped over and removed the plate.

What I saw made me catch my breath! I couldn't believe my eyes! Here was a bowl that looked much like Granny's butter bean bowl! It even had the gray/bluish clovers on it! The search was over--I had finally found it! Glory, glory!



*Note to self: Don't forget to pray.
**Another note to self: Don't act so surprised when God answers prayers.


"And I say unto you, Ask, and it shall be given you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you." Luke 11:9


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Side by Side

“Every oak tree started out as a couple of nuts who decided to stand their ground.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Just fourteen and you sixteen,

And side by side, there we stood.

And side by side, your mother said I would end up like my mother.

And side by side, my father said you would end up like your father.

And side by side, we were the couple "least likely to succeed".

But then there was God,

And side by side, He smiled on us,

And side by side He said, this is good. This is very good.

And side by side, for forty years, He ain't never done us nothin' but good,

And side by side, the best is yet to be.

May 26th 1971-May 26th 2011

I Wonder...

I've been an active church member since 1972. Anyone who has been going to church for any length of time sometimes find themselves questioning, why we do the things we do in church.

Or is it just me?

The things I wonder about might sound critical, but they are usually questions I ask of my own self first and then why other believers participate in said situations as well.

Here goes a few.

I wonder... why do we send shoe boxes (filled with gifts)around the world to foreign children, yet neglect the poor, needy, spiritually deprived children that live just across town? You know the part of town I'm talking about right?

I wonder... what is so wrong about a "feel good" preacher? Wasn't Jesus the ultimate "feel good" preacher of all time? Didn't He talk a whole lot about love, mercy, forgiveness and acceptance? OK...so he lost it ONE time in the temple.

I wonder...why do you have to be a white collar business owner to be a member of the Gideons? It seems to be a highly exclusive club. I wonder, aren't the blue collar working man just as capable of handing out bibles and telling folks about Jesus? Was Gideon of the bible a business owner?

I wonder ...why do folks insist on inserting politics into their prayers when they are called upon to pray publicly in church. This is annoying to those who may not feel the same way. OK...I confess, it don't just annoy me, sometimes it makes me angry.

I wonder...why church folk say "I missed you" when you've missed going to church a Sunday, knowing full well "I missed you" is most always interpreted by the hearer as "why were you not here"?

I wonder...why is it so much easier to forgive a stranger on the street for his imperfections and humanity, than it is to forgive a brother or sister in Christ we go to church with Sunday after Sunday. The same problem plagues us all--in church or out--sin.

I know, this post should have been titled "Things That Tick Me Off In Church" but "I Wonder" sounded "sweeter".

So, these are a few of the things I wonder about. I feel better for having wrote them down. It's OK if you don't wonder about the same things as I wonder about. I wonder if there are things in church or out that you may wonder about. If so, feel free to tell me about them in the comment section.

Blessings, peace, all that is good, have a great Monday everyone!
Debra

River Road Rats!

"Faith is taking the first step even when you don't see the whole staircase" Martin Luther King Jr.

Pictures are of the San Francisco Plantation located on River Road, Garyville, Louisiana--my husband and I visited there last Friday and enjoyed it very much. This makes the third Plantation home we have visited on River Road! We have become River Road rats! If you ever get the chance to visit Louisiana, I highly recommend putting aside a few days of your trip to visit these old historic plantations located about thirty miles west of New Orleans.

There is something very special about visiting these old plantation homes--almost all of them with slave cottages behind or beside them.

I feel a sense of sadness when we go through them. I wonder about the hardships they had to endure. Not just the slaves but the plantation owners as well.

What a different time and place it was back then.

I am thankful though, for the here and now. I like my central air-conditioning and heating. I'm pretty fond of running water as well!

And what can I say...except, I'm pretty wild about indoor plumbing too!

Be blessed ya'll and have a great Thursday.

I Remember Mamma :Part I

I posted this three or four years ago but in the spirit of Mother's Day I wish to re post it. I still think of her often as well as my father. I wish she were here...I wouldn't try to fix her, all I would do is love her as best as I could.


She would have been 80 this month, my Mama. She passed away at the very young age of 58. She was just three years older than I am right now. The many years of alcohol and prescription drug abuse had finally taken their toll.

I've thought a lot about her this month. Some fond thoughts... mostly painful. In some ways, I still feel responsible. I wished I could have fixed her. I wished I could have rescued her from the desire to self destruct. I'm still trying...everyday that I come to work and detox another patient, I am hopeful that I have helped one more person break free from the clutches of this sickness called addiction. A sickness that encompasses mind, body, soul and spirit. I did not plan this career,it just, somewhere along the way, became my calling, what I was born and destined to do. Who knows what I might have become, had it not been for my Mama.

She and Daddy had divorced in 1971. She moved back to New Orleans and we stayed in Mississippi with my Dad. I would be married and gone just 2 months after the divorce, leaving behind my younger sister and brother ages 15 and 10.

The years immediately preceding her death were some of her rockiest. Drifting from place to place, in and out of psych hospitals, detox units and jails (for public drunk)anywhere between the Mississippi Gulf Coast and New Orleans.

Despite any efforts made by myself or siblings to help her obtain housing, food, money...she would eventually become restless, find someone to drink with and take off again.. As one could expect, this cycle strained what little we had left of a relationship. There came a time, when I gave up, but in my heart I never stopped hoping and praying she would get better.

Back in New Orleans again, Mama had been living with her sister for about a year when I got the call. December 23, 1986. We had not even been told she was in the hospital, but then again she was in and out so often. Mama was gone. Her heart had become enlarged due to the years of drinking, we were told she died of congestive heart failure.

She was alone. She died alone in a hospital room in New Orleans. I cannot tell you how that grieves me, but no amount of grieving can change the fact. It still hurts my heart to think about it. No one deserves to die alone. No one.

I loved her, she loved me as best she knew how. She, as a mother, made mistakes ...big ones. As a daughter, in hindsight, I did too...big ones.

"The truth is: we never leave grief behind. We never forget. Our loved ones becomes a part of who we are today. And our stories are nestled in our hearts safe and secure in the knowledge that life and love are eternal."Author unknown.

~~But he who sows "in tears shall reap in joy psalm 126:5
~~Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning psalm 30:5

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I Remember Mama Part II

The best gift I ever recieved from my Mama came to me in the form of a letter, shortly after she was released from jail. Even today, after all these many years, I still get some measure of comfort and peace each time I read it. The letter is dated December 29th, 1979.

My Dear Daughter...I'm writing you to say I'm sorry and to ask forgiveness for all I've said & done. Not only to you but to myself.

You see, Mama just got out of prison. Yes, prison. In Point-a-La-Hache I was drunk and they kept me there for 15 days, when I took real sick with my heart and they brought me to Chairty Hospital late that night. But for the 15 days that I was there I'm proud to say, I REALLY found Jesus!

These ladies came on the first Saturday I was there and they saw me crying and asked me if I would like to be saved and I said yes. You see, I only thought I was saved before that day in jail. I wasn't only sick in my body, but I was sick in my soul.

They wouldn't let the ladies in my cell but there was a hole in the door where they passed the food to me- about 6 inches high and 12 inches long and Mrs. Logan and I prayed for a long time and I have never felt so good in my life as I did that day.

I can only say, I did find peace and contentment in that cold cell that day. But after that it wasn't nearly as hard for me as it had been and I praise God for saving me, even though it had to be in prision.

Maybe that is what it took for me to realize the true me. At first I felt ashamed, but not anymore. I plan on going back to church next Sunday and continue to serve my Lord as He would want me too. I don't have any fine clothes, but that's ok too.

I'm just proud, you'll never know, that I can truly say I'm saved and I KNOW God has a place in His house for me.

...Love all of you, Mama

I am so very thankful for all that God has blessed my life with...

... Including the hope of seeing my Mama in heaven some day...clean, sober and at peace...finally.

**PS: And Mama...if your listening...I forgive you...I really do, and I hope you forgive me too**
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1 Thessalonians 5:18 In every thing give thanks: for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning you.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Blessings,Debra

Risen!

If Easter says anything to us today, it says this: You can put truth in a grave, but it won't stay there. You can nail it to a cross, wrap it in winding sheets and shut it up in a tomb, but it will rise!
~ Clarence W. Hall ~

Hope all of you have a blessed and happy resurrection day.

The Mask I Wear

Don't be fooled by me.
Don't be fooled by the face I wear
For I wear a mask. I wear a thousand masks-
masks that I'm afraid to take off
and none of them are me.
Pretending is an art that's second nature with me
But don't be fooled, for God's sake, don't be fooled.
I give you the impression that I'm secure
That all is sunny and unruffled with me
within as well as without,
that confidence is my name
and coolness my game,
that the water's calm
and I'm in command,
and that I need no one.
But don't believe me. Please!


My surface may be smooth but my surface is my mask,
My ever-varying and ever-concealing mask.
Beneath lies no smugness, no complacence.
Beneath dwells the real me in confusion, in fear, in aloneness.
But I hide this.
I don't want anybody to know it.
I panic at the thought of my weaknesses
and fear exposing them.
That's why I frantically create my masks to hide behind.


But I don't tell you this.
I don't dare.
I'm afraid to.
I'm afraid you'll think less of me, that you'll laugh
and your laugh would kill me.
I'm afraid that deep-down I'm nothing, that I'm just no good
and you will see this
and reject me.


I idly chatter to you in suave tones of surface talk.
I tell you everything that's nothing
and nothing of what's everything, of what's crying within me.
So when I'm going through my routine
do not be fooled by what I'm saying
Please listen carefully and try to hear
what I'm not saying
Hear what I'd like to say
but what I can not say.


It will not be easy for you,
long felt inadequacies make my defenses strong.
The nearer you approach me
the blinder I may strike back.
Despite what books say of men, I am irrational;
I fight against the very thing that I cry out for.
you wonder who I am
you shouldn't
for I am everyman
and everywoman
who wears a mask.
Don't be fooled by me.
At least not by the face I wear.
--Author unknown

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I've thought of this poem from time to time for the last 32 years. How could I ever forget when and where I first saw it?

It felt very strange to be behind doubled locked doors. Walls stark and bare. Doors echoed throughout the hallways as they opened and closed. There was a feeling of dread as keys turned to lock you in. I was at our state mental hospital. No, I was not a patient there--although I could of been or might yet could be--who knows? Right? I was in nursing school and was doing my first day of clinicals on the psychiatric rotation.

Hanging out in the patients lounge and nervously trying to take in all that I was seeing and hearing from the mentally wounded--I saw it hanging there on the bulletin board.

It was wrinkled, crumpled and handwritten, in pencil--apparently posted by one of the patients. It explained so much and brought tears to my eyes as I read it.

I thought of this poem last night and just taking a shot in the dark-- keyed the words "the mask I wear" into my google search space. One click and there it was.

It still speaks volumes to me.

Thought I would share it with you.

Blessings of peace and all that is good,
Debra

Rescue Shops Where?

***Hey ya'll. Nice to be back. Looks like my break lasted a little longer than expected. But anyway here I am ! Blessings of peace & all that is good.***

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Callings

Ruth Bell Graham received her calling early in life.

She knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that God was calling her to the mission fields of Tibet. She was born and raised in China where her parents were medical missionaries. Her calling was accurate but the location would be off by just a little.

During a crusade years later-- looking across the New York city skyline-- she came to the realization that this concrete jungle was her mission field--and her calling was that of being the wife of Rev. Billy Graham and mother to their five children. At her funeral service in June of 2007 Franklin Graham (her son) was quoted as saying his father would not have been who and what he was had it not been for his mother.

In 1975, shortly after I accepted Jesus as my personal Savior and while on fire for Him as I possibly could be, I quoted the following statement during a testimony service at church.

"Some want to live within the sound of church or chapel bells; I want to run a rescue shop one yard from hell." ~C.T. Studd~

Fast forward thirty-six years. It is late at night and I am once again lamenting to my husband the trials and travails of working on the detox unit. There is a pause in our conversation when he takes a deep breath and says to me--well you asked for it.

I say--pardon me? What? How and when did I "ask for it"?

He says--don't you remember? Thinking he has lost his mind I say--no, as a matter of fact I don't remember! Enlighten me please!

He says--years ago you stood up in church and said something about wanting to run rescue shops close to hell. Don't you think that is what you have been doing all these many years? Aren't those addicts in hell? Mentally, physically and often times spiritually? Haven't you been there to at least try to rescue them? You asked for it and God gave you what you asked for.

It's not often I am left speechless, but as a matter of fact, I was. I could not believe my husband remembered that long ago, heart felt quote I had made during a testimony service in church. I had to admit it-- God had indeed given me exactly what I had asked for.

So often we visualize our calling in life one way and God determines that we carry out that very same call in a different kind of way.

Ruth Graham felt called to the mission field of Tibet. God called her to be the wife of Rev. Billy Graham and not only Tibet, but the entire world would be their mission field.

I felt called to help people and apparently as close to hell as possible. God chose a detox unit for me to set up shop in.

Have you ever thought maybe your calling in life has never come to full fruition?

I challenge you to do three things. Give God time, pay attention and look closely.

Remembering is helpful as well.

Taking a little break...

All is well...
Be back in awhile!

They that go down to the sea in ships, that do business in great waters;
These see the works of the LORD, and his wonders in the deep.(psalm 107:23-24)

Fallow Land...fallow times

I was an adult before I even questioned what the word meant. Fallow.

My paternal grandfather owned a parcel of land--woods really--to which he referred to as "fallow field". During my childhood and adolescent years I always assumed it was just my grandfather's nickname for the hundred or so acres that he owned in Monroe County Alabama.

When I was about five years old, I accompanied my Daddy and grandfather to "fallow field". Often times they would just ride out there and look around. At the time it was densely thick with trees, underbrush, and weeds. A tiny path would take that old black Ford pick up truck throughout the property.

As we went along, the path became more narrow and before I knew it the tree limbs were coming inside the cab and the little black truck started plunging in and out of huge holes. And then we got stuck. And that's when I began to bawl at the top of my lungs. Apparently, my Daddy wasn't too concerned about our present dilemma as he was filming me with his new 8mm camera throughout my melt down.

I was a child of the city. I was accustomed to sidewalks, street lamps, people, and traffic. Thick woods and lonely, tiny pathways were quite foreign to me. I was scared, I was not going to stop crying and I wanted to go home.

Funny how things stay with you into adulthood. To this day I am not very fond of the woods, I get kinda scared and I still wanna go home. I try not to cry. Even traveling for long periods of time on wooded highways give me the heebie jeebies.

Fallow describes land that is not planted with crops, in order to improve the quality of the soil(Cambridge Dictionary).Farmers would sometimes leave their land untilled for a period of time in order for the nutrients in the soil to replenish and renew.

Fallow also describes a period of time in which very little happens. A state of inactivity.

The Lord has been teaching me about "fallowness".

I've been listening--ever so carefully.

"Be still, and know that I am God"(Psalm 46:10)

Who Are We?

Don't matter if your Republican...

Don't matter if your Democrat...

Crazy is as crazy does.

Schizophrenia and psychosis have no party affiliation. These conditions are equal party offenders.Now if someone could just alert the media and our elected officials.

I have watched with much sadness these past few days the unfolding of the unspeakable tragedy that happened in Arizona. The fact that it happened at all was sad enough--but the actions of our media and the comments of our elected officials (on both sides of the aisle) have been atrocious. How does one make this political?

Jared Loughlan is, by all appearances, a very mentally disturbed young man. I don't know a lot but I know what crazy is. As a matter of fact, I specialize in it! Mental illness does not excuse one of the consquences of their actions by any means.

If we're going to debate or fight over anything, let's start with the sad state of mental health care in this country. Have you ever noticed on your health insurance policy (and that's IF your lucky enough to have one) how much it covers for mental health care? You'll probably notice it is much less and limited than routine medical coverage. And for most people it's not really a problem, unless, of course, you or a loved one are unfortunate enough to be stricken with mental illness. But, I guess, that is a rant for a different day.

I guess what I'm trying to say here is that in the face of tragedy, it would be nice, if for just once in a while, we could pull together as a country--as Americans.

Because after all, that is who and what we are.

In my own humble opinion...

Blessings of peace & all that is good,
Debra

"If it be possible, as much as lieth in you, live peaceably with all men" Romans 12:18

Winter Comfort

I'm not a big fan of January. Never have been for as long as I can remember. Perhaps it is because I dislike cold weather so much. And I know, compared to those states north of Mississippi, we really don't have it so very bad.

As my oldest son has often said to me, it's all about perspective. And from my perspective, I am used to ninety-eight degrees with 100% humidity. So, thirty-five to fifty-five degrees with wind chills of much lower is, to to my way of thinking, very cold.

There is an upside though to these cold, dreary, bleak days of January. I tend to retreat to that which brings me so much comfort and peace. I speak of reading-- I speak of books. The kind of books that you can touch and feel and smell. There may come a day when I am forced to use Kindles and other gadgets to read, but not now--not yet.

Typically, I enjoy biographies, non fiction, and bible study books. It takes a very creative author to lure me into reading fiction. Several months ago I enjoyed some of Truman Capote's work and re-read Harper Lee's "To Kill A Mockingbird". Often, I find myself so interested in the author I just have to read some of their work.

Such was the case in the book I have just finished reading by Kathryn Magendie titled, "Tender Graces". For months now I have enjoyed visiting her blog at Writing From My Mountain. Her post are always interesting and every now and then I get a tip on proper writing etiquette. Then winter set in and I set in search of some good fiction to read. While reading through her blog one night, it occurred to me in a "light bulb moment", well duh, here's a book right here.

Magendie's "Tender Graces" did not disappoint. It is a wonderful story about about a young woman, Virginia Kate, who grows up with a troubled mother and dysfunctional family in the mountains of West Virginia. It's about love and pain and reconciliation. When I read a book that I enjoy I dread coming to the end of it. I was comforted in the knowledge that Virginia Kate's story is continued in "Secret Graces" which I have just started reading. If your looking for some good winter reading I highly recommend these books and this authors blog.

So, what is it you enjoy doing during these cold winter days?

Anyone know when the first day of spring season begins? Don't know about you but I can hardly wait! I see myself tip toeing through the tulips...

"It's spring fever. That is what the name of it is. And when you've got it, you want - oh, you don't quite know what it is you do want, but it just fairly makes your heart ache, you want it so!" ~Mark Twain