The In-Between

Today is a quiet, grey, and rainy day.  Well, quiet but for the birds singing their songs from my trees.  There's a little red-breasted bird that keeps visiting my bird feeder.  My Grandma loved birds - the last gift I gave her was a little ceramic bird that looks like this same little bird on my feeder.  When I watch that bird peck at the thistle, I see my Grandma lying on her couch, carefully opening the package, and the happy gleam in her eye as she held that little piece of bird-shaped glass.

"Put it over there", she said in a quiet voice.  She was smiling at me and pointing a tired finger at the shelf that was in her line of vision when she rested on the couch.

I gave it to her as a Christmas present.  It was Thanksgiving time, but I knew I wouldn't be back for Christmas, so I gave her the gift early.  I think I knew in my heart that it would be the last time I saw her.  That must have been the reason for my compulsive need to hug and kiss her and to keep telling her how much I loved her.

"Ya.  Love you too", she'd say with a gentle hand patting my cheek.  I loved her hands.

Hmmm.  I don't quite know where this is coming from.  I sure didn't sit down with a plan to write about Grandma.


I'm in limbo today.  Sort of half way between doing about 15 things.  Can't figure out what I want to do...what I should do.  Wandering around the house...tinkering...looking...feeling uneasy.  I wish God would send me a memo with some life's goals outlined for me.

I can't quite tell if I'm bored or overwhelmed.  Know the feeling?

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Christmas 2009 in Something Larger than a Nutshell

With all the craziness and turmoil of the past month, I never took the time to tell you about our Christmas! Despite some beyond-hard goodbyes, there was still much fun and joy to be found. Grandma would be happy to hear that, I think :-)

It all began with a hunt for the perfect tree. We were invited to a tree lot to choose a fresh tree and cut it down ourselves. It sounded like a fun adventure, so that's what we did on cold and blustery December Sunday afternoon.

Samantha thought it sounded like a fun adventure too, but she was concerned. I listened in on a sweet conversation she had with her Daddy that morning.

"We're going to the forest to choose a tree today, Sammy. Won't that be fun?!"

"A forest? But will there be animals in the forest? Will there be....LIONS in the forest?"

"No, sweetie. You don't have to worry about lions in the forest. There are just trees and maybe a squirrel or two."

"Well, okay. As long as there aren't any lions!"

We parked the car and ventured out to find our tree. There was much running around and debating the merits of each kids' favorite tree.

You will NEVER guess what we found in that little lot of trees...it was a real live LION. No kidding! All of Daddy's reassurances from that morning went right out the window when another family showed up to choose their tree, and on of their boys was dressed in little more than his favorite lion costume. I absolutely could not believe it! :-)

We finally settled on one of the most beautiful trees that I'd ever seen. It pained me to cut it down - I so wished we could have planted it in the yard instead!

Everyone had their chance to help cut it down. Clara's rear-end while she cuts:

Ben's:

Sammy's:

We finally got the enormous tree strapped to the top of our car, and we were on our way! You should have seen the stares and points we got as we drove around like this:

Before we could say "Jingle Bells", it was time for the annual round of school holiday programs. I was so proud of my brave little Clara when she signed up to be a "toy" dancing around on stage for her program (in the karate uniform):

See the prettiest girl in the whole room? That's my girl...

Sammy also had a Christmas program. It took every single ounce of courage she could muster up to walk up on stage and chew her fingernails bloody. My poor little nervous girl...NO red reindeer nose for her...NO singing for her...NO hat for her...NO dancing for her. In fact, she locked eyes with me once with such horror in her eyes, I was certain that she was going to dash off the stage and into my arms. Instead, she took encouragement in my smiling "thumbs up". I sang with her and clapped like a doofus....and before I knew it, she was actually singing too!

Whew - school was finally out.

We had a mysterious invitation from my sister and her hubby. We were just supposed to be ready to go at a certain time, and they'd come and get us.

Come and get us, they did!

We got a call around the time we were expecting them, "walk out your front door right NOW", was all she said. We walked outside to find a 15 passenger van blaring Christmas music, decked out with lights INSIDE the van, and two giant thermoses of hot chocolate ready for us. It was quite the scene! First, we stopped at McD's for $1 cheeseburgers and fries, and then we were off to see all the best holiday lights in the Boise area.

These guys...there is no effort too great...if it's fun, they make it happen. I feel so blessed to live close to them :-)

After several days of lighting and decorating the tree and house, we were finally ready for Christmas. The gifts were tucked away in the closet, only needing some paper and bows, and the stockings were hung by the chimney with care (poor Thomas, making a matching stocking for him is definitely a priority for me this year):

And the tree was the most beautiful tree we'd ever had. It didn't hurt that it was about 15 feet tall!

I had fun one evening with long shutter speeds and our tree lights:

And then, Christmas 2009 was defined in a whole new and painful way. My wonderful Grandma. Gone. How is it possible?

We decided to circle the wagons, and headed to Wisconsin for Christmas. I wanted to be with my parents, I wanted to help, I wanted to be near my Mom who was suddenly without her own mom for the first time in her life. I wanted to show up with a car filled with joy and gifts and chaos and love...I wanted the joyful shouts of my children's voices to help fill the void for Mom and Dad. And, I was missing Grandma. I wanted my Mommy and Daddy :-)

Before we left, we wrapped up the "big" gifts from us, and gave them to the kids (couldn't spare the room to get them to WI along with the 10 full suitcases we already had - no joke!). It was nice to have a little bit of Christmas under our spectacular tree after all.

Ben got a motorized-marble-maze-contraption- thingy that took him (and his Daddy who has an engineering degree) roughly 8 hours to assemble. It was right up his alley :-)

Clara got her very own sewing machine, fabric, and sewing box filled with notions. She and I promptly made a pillow and blanket for her favorite stuffed animal (and last weekend we made a new stuffed animal that is so cute - I'll try to remember to show you soon):

And Sammy- our little performer - she got a kids' keyboard that has a little recording device and microphone attached. She can record what she plays, and then she runs around the house listening to her "iPod" for the rest of the day :-)

Where's my picture of Thomas' gift? Thomas got a train set that he requests...no...requires we set up for him every single solitary day. All he has to do is point to the living room and say "whooo whooo", and we know what he's after :-)

We also got a gift for all the kids - a little air hockey table that sits right on the floor or the kitchen table. We had a great weekend of sewing and building and singing and playing!

And then, on Christmas Eve (I always SWORE I'd never be one of those people dashing around and traveling on Christmas Eve!!), we piled the kids, ourselves, and 10 giant suitcases onto an airplane and headed to the Chicago airport (I also SWORE to never fly United into Chicago again), then we rented a 12 passenger van and drove 3 hours to my folks' house.

It was, mercifully, a very nice and uneventful trip. Except for a bit of barfing on the plane. Really though - it was an easy trip. Well, except maybe for the little barfer :-)

And it was all SO worth it! There's just nothing like Christmas with Yaya and Papa...in their cozy warm house...with their gorgeous tree...and the amazing cooking.

After a round of gift opening from Santa in the morning, my mom's side of the family came over for food and fun (and a few tears...missing Grandma). I love getting together with these folks. This is so...where I'm from.

Oh Grandma...

Then, after a power nap on the couch for me and....I have no idea what for everyone else because I was drooling on the couch...we headed to a party with my Dad's side of the family.

Oh boy. An entire day filled with beautiful, fun, and funny people. AND unbelievable food? That's my family. God was awfully sweet putting me where he put me in this big old world.

There were lots and lots of people there, but one in particular stole my heart.

Does anything say "Merry Christmas" like a sweet little chubby-cheeked munchkin in a pretty dress? I think not.

I don't know though. She's terribly unloved.

And neglected.

No one really likes her much at all.

I almost had to take her home with me to spare her a long life of abuse and suffering. Can't you see? She's miserable without me hugging and kissing her...

After the business of Christmas Day, we settled in to play with the Christmas goodies and enjoy our time with Yaya and Papa. A couple of days after Christmas, my other sister and her family flew out so they could be there for Grandma's funeral. We hadn't celebrated Christmas with them (officially) yet, so we piled more...and more...and MORE gifts under the tree for an evening of extravagant abundance also known as "celebrating Christmas with Grandma and Grandpa". They spoil us all rotten :-)

But then on the day when we were to do our gift opening, my little nephew wasn't feeling well. He had a pretty bad cold with sore throat, and all of a sudden...a very painfully stiff neck. Did I just hear a collective gasp of terror from fellow moms out there? Yeah, we were scared.

His mom and dad whisked him to the ER immediately. From there, the good doctor at the ER transferred little Trevor by ambulance to Milwaukee Children's Hospital. He stayed there for 3 or 4 days on IV antibiotics and fluids. Thank goodness, he didn't have meningitis. He had an infection at the back of his throat that was causing his throat to swell up. It was getting to the point of threatening his airway, so they acted swiftly to get the kiddo on some heavy duty drugs. We were all thankful that he didn't need surgery.

While he was at the hospital, we prayed.

And we did our best to wrangle our two year old AWAY from this marvelous scene:

When Thomas discovered that the tree had seemingly magically been re-stocked with another load of gifts, we heard the most impressed "OOOOoooooOOOOooooOOOOOooo" come out of his little mouth :-)

Somewhere in there, Thomas snuggled up next to me to "read" his book while I read mine:

Papa tried to sneak a picture, but he was spied.

Also, somewhere in there, we had one of my hardest days ever. We said goodbye to my sweet Grandma. It just doesn't seem like the world should keep turning, you know? Death is just so...wrong.

A couple of days before her funeral, someone asked me if I was interested in saying anything at the service. I didn't know. I hadn't really planned on anything. I went to bed that night and asked Luke to pray for me about it. I prayed about it. I asked for Him to make it clear to me if I should speak, and to give me the words. I woke the next morning and simply HAD to get on the computer to start writing. He gave me the words alright!

So I had the honor of speaking at my Grandma's funeral. It felt good to do something for her. It felt good to celebrate her. It felt good to share what I knew of Grandma's faith. It felt good to share Grandma's hope...her God, with the people she loved most.

And it was positively terrifying! I was honored to do it, and thankful that I had the opportunity. But man, it was so hard! It was certainly the Lord himself holding me up, filling my trembling lungs with air, and giving me the words.

I'm so thankful for HOPE. I'm so thankful that the God I know and love conquered death itself. I have such a tremendous day to look forward to...even in death. I can't wait to see Grandma again!

{sigh....}

Finally, little Trevor was good as new. He came home and we got to open those marvelous packages!

So that's it. Our 2009 Christmas. After a New Year's Eve feast of melt-in-your-mouth steaks, homemade french fries, and the most gigantic lobster tails I've ever seen, we reluctantly piled ourselves back in the car for the long trip home. It was a mere 6 hours of travel, more oh-so-joyous experiences with missing the motion sickness bag on the airplane, and we were finally home again.

Does someone have a name for me? I want the name of the person who is responsible for the design of the airplane's motion sickness bags. Four square inches at the opening? Really? I might not know your name to write you a letter, but I know you're out there.

Dear Mr./Mrs. small bag designer: the water proof lining inside the bag was a good idea, but it does NO GOOD if the bag is so small that the 4 year old can't manage to actually aim the unpleasantness enough to actually get it IN the bag. Thank you. That's all I have to say about that.

PS. I hope that the stars align properly one day so that you are sitting next to one of my barfers on our next flight.

PPS. You owe my husband one pair of pants.

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Stress. Tears. Chocolate.

Oh, how I want to be able to be a light-hearted blogger today. I want to be one of those people who can somehow let all of life's worries just roll off their back. In fact, I got an email from a fellow blogger who is selling list of ideas to blog about! I was tempted...

But this is my blog. My little on-line journal. What would it become if I was working from someone else's arbitrary "to blog about" list? I just can't do it. So I'm just going to be boring old weepy me today. The me who has been stressed out, crying, and eating so much chocolate that I'm fairly certain that I should be changing my surname to Ghirardelli!

I'll just come right out and say it: It's been a helluva month.

-My Grandma died.

-My nephew spent several days in the hospital.

-We were planning on a quiet Christmas at home, but instead packed 10 giant suitcases full of gifts and piled onto an airplane (all 6 of us) and flew to Wisconsin on Christmas Eve.

-The same day that we traveled to Wisconsin, my friend's baby girl didn't wake from her nap.

-Grandma's funeral.

-Piles and piles of chocolate and coffee, which I could not... Could. NOT. keep from shoving in my mouth by the hand (and cup)- full.

-Photo orders that I failed to fill before heading out of town.

- Flying home from Wisconsin...barfing girl....home in the middle of the night.

- A gigantic vet and kennel bill waiting for us when we got home - lots of money we didn't have to spend.

- Home at midnight, and up the next morning to be the photographer for my friends' baby's funeral. She wanted special photos of her baby girl and the celebration of her life.

- Braced myself, and stepped on the scale after coming home from my folks' house. Why? Why do I do that to myself? There's something in me that truly believes my mom's cooking to be magical...amazingly delicious AND void of calories. I'm delusional, I know. The number on the scale that glared back at me (I swear the scale moaned in pain...or maybe that was me)...that number was a number I'd only seen in my 38th week of pregnancy. For those of you who don't know pregnancy weeks...that's GIGANTICALLY with baby...about 2 weeks before delivery, in fact.

It wasn't all bad. Not at all! I really enjoyed being in Wisconsin for Christmas - mom and dad always spoil us rotten, and we had wonderful family time. There's just nothing like being "home" for the holidays.

My nephew is now fine, thank God.

Grandma's funeral was beautiful. It was a beautiful tribute to the amazing woman she is, and ALL of her children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren were there.

Although it was the most painful and difficult shoot of my life, I was so thankful to be able to DO something for my friends who were grieving their little girl.

In the midst of all this, do you know what I did very little of? Cry. I hardly shed a tear. Every time I felt tears threatening to make an appearance, I shoved them away. I didn't have time. I spoke at Grandma's funeral....couldn't let the tears get away from me, or I couldn't speak. I had to be professional at the funeral for sweet little Ruthie, or I couldn't have taken pictures for them.

No. Tears. I. Will. Not. Cry.

Later. I'll cry later. Always later.

And then, the evening of the baby's funeral, Luke took one look at me and gathered me up into his arms. I was fighting hard. Will. Not. Cry. All he said was "It's okay"...and I cried. Buckets and buckets. He might not have said "it's okay" if he'd have known what I had pent up! :-)

I thought it was all out.

And then, last Wednesday I woke up in excruciating pain. I couldn't move my head or right arm without a sharp pain ripping through my neck and shoulder. The doc ruled out any infection or bone problem with a series of blood tests and x-rays. Just a muscle problem. So I've been doped up on muscle relaxants and heavy duty pain relievers since Wednesday. It was a welcome relief...from the pain...from the thoughts that swirled in my mind. My brain was blissfully...empty.

It got better day by day. Yesterday, I even went without the prescription drugs and stuck to good old ibuprofen. And then today, I woke up in pain again. Kids off to school, hubby off to work, me and two little ones at home with the mess and laundry and bickering.

I spent the morning hunched over in pain, gasping for breath and crying out with each spasm of that muscle. What gives? I was almost all better!

And then, it all came crashing down...

the anxiety

the fear

the dread

the horror

the cold feel of my Grandma's once strong and warm hands

the golden locket around her neck that held a picture of her with Grandpa

the picture of the smiling little baby girl

how can that be her?

how can that little girl be in a tiny box?

how can her soft cheek be so hard?

how can her parents worship God?

I turned the volume of the cartoons up, and went into my bedroom. Locked the door. Not far enough - into the bathroom, lock that door. Looked at myself in the mirror...the squishy, ugly, hunched over me...who is that old lady?

And I cried. I sobbed. I couldn't stop. I paused a few times because I heard a strange noise that I thought was coming from one of my kids....but then realized it was ME. I cried some more.

And then, when I couldn't cry anymore, I stood up straight for the first time in days.

Could it be that this physical pain I've been in has been an emotional pain all along?

I found this article about crying, that is SO interesting. Read it if you need a good excuse for a good cry :-)

So there it is...the real me. The me that tries to be strong, but ends up being sick for the effort.

Now that I've written about it, maybe I can move on to more light-hearted stuff like Christmas pictures and yummy recipes....

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The Sting

When the perishable has been clothed with the imperishable, and the mortal

with immortality, then the saying that is written will come true:

"Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?"

1 Corinthians 15:54-55

After almost 92 years of living, laughing, suffering, persevering, working, playing....

being Mom and Grandma and Great Grandma...

Wife, Sister, Friend...

Teacher. She taught hard work, fun, practicality, faithfulness, giving your best, and loving in a big way.

And her final lesson... how to let go. How to go Home.

She is now cloaked in her perfect immortal body. I imagine her opening her once cloudy eyes to the crystal clear scene of Jesus before her...Him wrapping his arms around her small frame and whispering "Well done, my good and faithful daughter" in her ear. "I've prepared a place for you", he says.

I imagine her standing straight and tall without a single ache or pain...her steps strong and confident...once again the quick and confident stride of her youth. A glow in her cheeks and smooth heathy teeth glistening in her smile as she sees "Daddy" after so many years apart. A long wait for her....only a moment for him. A knowing look must have passed between them in that first meeting. Amazing Grace, indeed!

The sting of death is no more for my wonderful Grandma Ruth Stroshane. For me though, the sting seems to have settled right into the center of my chest. I miss my Grandma already.

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Rejoicing in Him

What a whirlwind the past few days have been!  Forgive me in advance for what will likely be a long and rambing post. 

I've been so overwhelmed lately...in a good way...with JOY that is just beyond my understanding.  For those of you who know Him, do you ever feel him so near you that it seems that if you could just turn your head fast enough, you'd physically SEE him standing right next to you?  I love that.  I love HIM.  I love feeling him with such certainty and joy.

Of course, me being who I am, I always worry just a tad.  Is he showing himself in a powerful way because he's trying to prepare me for something painful?  I KNOW...what a worry-wart I am!  I'm trying to just enjoy this time and "be still".

Actually, when I look back on the past couple of weeks, I think he's been so near me and protecting my heart because of some of the people he's sent my way.  I've been having such amazing discussions with people who are not Christians.  Normally, I'd be filled with doubt and fear while I consider their beliefs ("have I fallen for a lie?").  But this time?  There's not a hint of doubt even way down deep in my heart.  He has truly proven himself to be my rock...my protection...my provider in these past few weeks.  Oh man, how can I love someone so much who I can't even see?!

I also have so much in my life that I'm thoroughly enjoying and having fun with...good friends, my amazing husband, my wonderful kids, photo shooting and editing, holiday card design, a good book to read....it goes on!  It seems like every time I turn around I'm excited to do what's next on my list.  It's a nice place to be :-)

*******

For those of you who have been praying for my Grandma...an update.  She's actually LEAVING hospice care, and going back to assisted living!  What a tough little bird she is!  She's said many times "Why am I still here?", "Why won't the Lord just take me home?", "I'm no good for anything anymore."

I hope that when she someday looks back on her life from her comfy chair in Heaven, that she can see just how much she's taught me in these past few "useless" years of her life.  

In the mean time...Grandma's going HOME!  Yippee!

*******

I've made a change in my life that seems small and insignificant, but that's really contributed to happier days for me.  I've rejected my bathroom scale.  Yep.  I just refuse to step on the darn thing!  I've felt so frustrated and angry with myself for not doing a better job of staying in shape.  And I've been...confused.  I guess I always figured weight loss should be straight-forward.  Calories in vs. calories out, right?  Eat less, exercise more.  Yeah...and then there's real life where I LOVE food and HATE exercise.  I try and try, but just can't seem to make that darn number on the scale budge.

I finally got to the point where I was just beyond myself and my abilities.  I prayed (why do I not START with prayer more often??).  "Lord, I don't know how to do this!  Help!"

From that point forward, I decided that the scale doesn't mean a darn thing.  And I was letting it have far too much control over how I felt about myself.  There were days when I felt great...I'd step on the scale and suddenly feel lousy because I was up a pound.  There were days when I felt like a walking marshmallow...I'd step on the scale and suddenly feel like a super-star since I was down a pound.

Really?  A number on a scale has that much control over my perceived self worth?  Unacceptable!  

So I stopped weighing myself.  I started praying more.  And that part of me that wants to cruise the kitchen for a pick-me-up when I'm feeling bored/frustrated/lonely/celebratory/happy/whatever....that part of me is suddenly satisfied with HIM.  

I've done a Bible study on the "Names of God".  The God who provides, the God who protects, the God who IS, the God who saves, etc.  I wonder...did I skip the chapter on "the God who satisfies chocolate cravings" and "the God who enables me to do 'banana rolls' without trying to jump in the TV to punch Tony Horton in the nose"? :-)

And the kicker?  I stepped on the scale this morning for the first time in weeks, and I was down 5 pounds!  

*******

Do you want to choke me yet?  Sometimes it can be hard to listen to someone rattle on and on about how wonderful life is.  

Isn't it interesting how it can be easier to listen to someone complain?  Why is that?  Probably because we can all relate to struggles and trials in life.  We bond in our common suffering.  We (as people in general) should try to bond in our common joys...focus on the joy instead of the pain, don't you think?

For me lately, life IS wonderful.  It's all because of him...and I just can't not share.  

But let all who take refuge in you be glad;

let them ever sing for joy.

Spread your protection over them,

that those who love your name may rejoice in you.

Psalm 5:11

  

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Fog of Awareness

I'm living in a fog lately.  

So many firsts...so many lasts to consider.  The last hug.  The last laugh.  The last time sleeping in her own bed.  The last Sheboygan steak sandwich.  The last prayer.

The first face to face conversation with Jesus himself.  The first time seeing "Daddy" in some 25 years.  The first time without pain or sorrow or tears of any sort.

The first Christmas without the center of our family.  Grandma.

This fog of mine is sort of an inverse-fog.  I usually think of a fog as something that keeps me from seeing reality.  But now...I'm in this place where it seems that I'm seeing reality for the first time.  It's a fog of awareness...highlighting true reality and settling an opaque mist over what I typically think of as "real life".

I look at my babies and I practically see them grow before my eyes.  I think of the 6 small baby pictures my Grandma has hanging on her bedroom wall of her children.  And now those children gather around her bed to pray for a peaceful and painless final journey.  Do they feel like they're being orphaned?  No longer someone's baby...

I watch the world bustle about trying to earn a buck.  Get the list done.  Be there on time.  Deal with their frustration.  I want to scream.  Don't they see how short life is?  Don't they know that they could be dead by the end of the day?

Morbid.  Real.

The magazine cover screams "LOSE 10 LBS FAST!" and "Gorgeous, Sexy Hair Without the Fuss".  Honestly.  Who gives a shit?

I straighten up after dinner, and realize that something isn't quite right.  What is it?  Oh yes.  The sour cream goes in the refrigerator, not the pantry.  

I settle into the couch for an evening of relaxing and conversation with my best friend and greatest love.  I'd normally be distracted by my to do list or the next day's schedule.  But now, all I want is to feel life.  I wiggle my way next to him and settle my head onto his chest.  "What's this?" he wonders aloud.  I just want to hear his heart beating.  This man of mine.  This amazing gift...God gave me this perfect partner and love.  The rest of me.

I wonder, did Grandma ever do the same with "Daddy"?

What am I doing with my life?  Am I doing anything that matters?  I think silly thoughts about trying to grow a successful business.  Get out of debt.  Organize and decorate the house.  Get the chores done.  Get dinner on the table.  Lose weight.  Find the perfect haircut.  Secure a patent on that idea.

What is Grandma thinking right now?  What goes through her head as she wakes up in a hospital bed?  Does she feel the end?  Or is it the beginning she feels?  Is she afraid?  Excited?  Peaceful?  Mournful?  

I have this crazy desire to be sitting next to Grandma right now....holding her hand...singing "Amazing Grace".  She's still spunky enough to tell me, "That's a nice song.  Don't quit your day job though!"  We'd laugh, she'd sleep, I'd cry.

This strange place in my head...I'm here, but there.  Trying to function here...cherish every moment, while also wondering what she's going through.

Praying, "Please Lord.  If this is her time, please take her quickly and painlessly.  In fact, maybe you could just come back now and get us all?  Goodbye is just too hard."

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That Darn Humility Stick

Whenever I have a humbling experience seemingly from out of nowhere, I call it "being smacked upside the head with the humility stick".  

I got a good whack today :-)

Don't get me wrong...I'm not under any delusions that I can sing.  I used to be.  You know, back in like the 6th grade when I'd record myself singing "The Greatest Love of All", and then playing it back to hear how I sounded.

In fact, it might have been that very experience that led me to the realization that I really can NOT sing.  Oh well.  I keep hoping and praying that when I get to Heaven, the Lord will do some work on my vocal chords so I can praise Him the way I really want to.

In the mean time, I try to stick to the simple stuff like "Twinkle Twinkle" and "Old Mac Donald".  The kids don't really mind.  Or so I thought...

I was driving in the car this afternoon with Sammy and Thomas in the backseat.  We were all sort of lost in our own worlds.  

My mind was wandering down the road to Wisconsin, where my dear Grandma is in a hospital bed suffering.  I prayed.  I cried a little.  I thought of Grandma and her drawn out "Yellloooo" when she answers the phone, and her witty sense of humor.  I thought of my last trip to Wisconsin.  Grandma was a little unsteady, so I liked to thread my arm through hers and we'd walk arm in arm.  I can still feel her on my arm.

Of course, we can not know who's saved and who's not.  But if you can tell what's going on in a person's heart by the way they live their lives...Grandma is saved.  I am so thoroughly and eternally thankful for that.  I'm thankful that we'll never have to say "goodbye", but rather, "see you later".  Now that's a comfort that none can offer but Jesus.

I love my Jesus.

When I think about Him, I inevitably start to sing whichever hymn comes to mind.  That's what I did in the car. 

It was a quiet song, from my heart more than from my vocal chords.

It's too bad that songs from the heard don't sound more beautiful to the human ear.

From the back seat, Sammy snaps out of her world and says, "Mamma, if you're gonna sing, would you please turn on some music?  Turn it on LOUD."

Well, okay.

I hope the Lord hears my heart more than my voice ;-)

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