Jack

You see this precious face? Would it boggle your mind to know his mommy and daddy didn't want him? I couldn't believe it either...but it's true! Friends of ours adopted this little boy and each time I see him with his arms wrapped around their necks, my heart bursts with joy.

Just this morning I overheard him telling his parents that their song was playing. He was referring to, "I belong to Jesus." I nearly cried as I watched his little arms pull his adoptive parents together with his three-year-old little arms. With their heads joined together they sang as emotions as thick as a softball formed in my throat.

Seeing them together made me think of how cherished we are to God. Nothing can separate us from the love of God. Remember that the next time you feel alone, unloved, despised, rejected, depressed or discouraged. He has a plan for you, one greater than you can ever imagine.

Yes, It's Thanksgiving again. So what? It's just another day, right? Every Thanksgiving people spend too much, eat too much, drink too much and say way too much. You've been there; family gatherings where even if alcohol isn't involved, people will say things that they will wish later they hadn't. Maybe like me, they will refuse to say what should be said and regret that also. It has only taken me 41 years to decide that I want no further part of it. My time is precious, valuable and unrecoverable. I can not sacrifice a second more of my only controllable resource, dancing around the truth. So, here it is...try this on for size...I love my life!

I love my family. I hold no ill will toward my parents, brothers, extended family or upbringing. Getting spankings, sometimes with a belt or a paddle, didn't mar, scar or kill me. Attending a small Christian school and even a couple of Bible colleges, didn't ruin me on my Baptist upbringing or drive me to drinking...well, that may be stretching it a bit. Regardless, I love Jesus and His free gift of salvation and I'm not ashamed to tell you about it or Him...anytime, any day.

I'm thankful for the same things you are; a place to lay down at night, waking up each morning and indoor plumbing. I'm thankful I was born in America, that I have a nice home, a great job and plenty of food to eat. I'm thankful for clean water to drink, a loving husband and gorgeous children to wrap my arms around and love. I'm thankful for every single tear that I cry and every pain that causes a hitch in my get-along because it reminds me that I am still alive and still feeling anything at all.

It is impossible to list everything here that I'm thankful for, but I refuse to spend one more Thanksgiving stuffing my face and biting my tongue. Tomorrow and forever I choose to live, laugh, love and be grateful for who I am, Who's I am and all that I have. I hope you will choose to do the same. Happy Thanksgiving!

A Place

The crumbling adobe wall whispered hundreds of years of living. Impressed, I gently ran my finger tips across a pink earthen structure and silently asked for understanding. I wished it were possible to know who all had touched the same, who had ducked beneath the low overhang to enter or exit the secret compound of solitude. How could a "place" reek so of peace and harmony? "The City Different" speaks to me in ways that no other place on the planet does. My birth state is a desolate, lonely environment that few appreciate and fewer adore. When I wander the streets, I feel at home; smelling pinyon wood burning in an ancient kiva, I beg to remain. This is where I belong and where one day I will be. Whether alive or no, it matters little. Apart from where your heart dwells, you live life as a spent Aspen leaf, yellowed, tattered and waiting.

Nickle, Dime...Slot Machine!

I watched as the black Toyota swerved carelessly across both lanes of traffic. Squeezing in between two cars where no room existed, I knew there was something wrong with the operator of this vehicle, but it was, "quitting time." Time to take the Batgirl outfit off and put the alter-ego uniform on. The one of "mother/wife." I've heard it said more than once over the years, "put your blinders on and go home!" But there was that nagging sense of something not quite right about the way the driver of the Toyota swerved between the lane lines. I could never choose to ignore what slapped at my conscience. Something was seriously wrong and I could not choose anything other than Duty, my duty. So with mounting aggravation at having my evening plans changed, I turned my blue and red lights on and finally hit the siren when I got no reaction out of the driver. What was wrong with this guy? For miles he continued as if cars around him, weren't slowing and pulling to the right. When I finally got the Toyota stopped, I could only wonder what would cause a person to choose this path. This path is the long pull of a wicked whiskey or a life-cheating slot machine, it could bring you loss, big loss. Insanely enough, this slot never has a winner, but you'll fool yourself into believing you won as you pull into your driveway. You'll climb out of your car and thank your lucky stars that you made it home without crashing, without killing yourself or worse. You'll make it inside and undress or not and swear you'll never do it again, but even intoxicated you know better. When you wake in the morning alive it will be a mystery to you how you managed to make it home. If next time comes, your luck might not hold. But hey, that's the best part of playing slots...the chance that you'll lose, right?

Buster

It had been the worst day of my entire life, bar none. Rocking her listless bony body, I could only cry. She whithered away rapidly before my very eyes. Hadn't she been fine the day before? No, maybe two days ago, but now I stared into her jaundiced eyes and wished for the years to roll back to when she was young and healthy. Silent tears slid down my cheeks and choked the cooes that would try to soothe her in her pain. All day I talked to my dear friend and begged her not to leave me, but I knew she would. She had to. It was pure selfishness that would ask someone to suffer so that I could be spared the pain of loss; the pain of loneliness. Pure selfishness. After she died, I thought my heart would surely break and even though I knew she was, "just a dog." It didn't lessen the pain that stabbed at my subconscious night and day. There was no good reason for her to have to die. So anger tried to squeeze out the hurt and for a few days it brewed there only to be replaced with aching emptiness. Just when I thought that no one could understand or truly care what I was going through, He came to me. Never forcing His comfort or strength, He trotted up and into my arms and licked my face with His love. Why it surprised me to know that my loving God cared about me that much, I can't explain. He sent me what I needed, when I needed it and in the way that I needed it most. That's how tender and loving and merciful my God is. His heart hurts when my heart does. My littlest troubles He cares about and when nothing else can soothe my ache, He is always there; ready, willing and able. Able to send a neighbor's puppy to love my hurt away and bring a message from the Creator of the universe. "Cast your cares upon me; for I care for you."

Don't look, you won't find me

He was 96 years old when he walked away from everything he ever knew. We searched and searched and searched for him, but we never found him. Didn't he want to be found? Didn't he want to come home? Home where everything was familiar and safe? Maybe he didn't want this anymore. Maybe he didn't want the same ole, same ole. Maybe what he wanted was out there waiting for him to find it.

I'd like to think that if I were him and I'd seen that many years go by, that I too would want to see something I hadn't seen before. I'd walk the dusty streets of somewhere else and see what I had missed, if anything. There wouldn't be a single face left unsearched, no flavored cigar left unsmoked, no harsh whiskey left untasted, no sweet lips left unkissed. I'd grab every morsel of life and with arthritic fingers, I'd squeeze like there wasn't a drop of tomorrow to be had.

Should I wait until the very end to wander off and wonder about? Should I trip on the uneven sidewalk of life only to find that I missed the inscription upon it, hardened with time?

Yours and my name is written there in concrete, crumbling with age...trace it with a loving finger and take my hand. Let's take a walk and lose ourselves, never to be found.

Friends Don't Say Goodbye

It made no sense to those who saw me do it, but I threw my arms around the nearly naked branches of an English Oak tree and hugged it to me fiercely. Unashamed by the emotion that overcame me before we parted; I stroked its little branches lovingly and tenderly caressed the fuzzy underbelly of his glossy green leaves.

I knew I’d never see him again so this was my final goodbye. Whispering words of encouragement and hope, I told my friend that we, as a society, were counting on him. We needed the life-giving oxygen he would release and desperately depended on the pollution removal he would provide. I watched as a heavy-set man hobbled towards us, he grabbed the black plastic pot my friend called home and carelessly lumbered away without a single thought of my bereavement. I choked on emotion as I watched my friend frantically waving “so-long” from the back of a rusty Ford pickup. My heart sank as they rounded the curve in the old gravel road and disappeared out of sight.

Trying not to think of my pretty columnar friend, I busied myself in my work, giving away more free trees, but every so often that day, I’d see a tree that reminded me of him and a lump would form in my throat nearly choking me with grief. What was life for him going to be like now? I wondered. Would he be cared for, loved? I couldn’t bear the thought that he would be left unattended to, undernourished and alone. Alone to weather the winter unclothed by mulch or left in his temporary container too long freezing or drying out. I had to stop worrying! I had to trust that his new caretaker would indeed take care.

I knew that The Maker of Heaven and earth had created him for a reason and now I must trust Him to watch over my friend. My eyes scanned the horizon for direction for guidance for clarity, but all I saw was more and more of my tree friends disappearing. Their futures lay in the hands of the humans that drug them away from me. In turn, our futures lay in those same hands; planting, mulching, staking, watering and pruning. These are the duties of a tree owner and I feel it’s each of our duties to plant at least one tree in our lifetime. You don’t have to be a tree fanatic like me, but if you care about our environment, you’ll plant a tree.

In my mind’s eye, I can see that gorgeous English Oak providing shade, shelter and serenity and that, makes me smile.