A Tribute to Our Armed Forces, Thank You.

She Is Not Gone, She Is Just Away.

  

The past month has been one of the toughest in my life.  My best friend, Rose, passed away on January 10th.  She had battled cancer for the past 11 years, and put up a courageous fight, but in the end, she was so weak, there was no fight left in her.  She passed away peacefully at home, with her children around her, her friends and family hovering over her.  I know this is not how she pictured it happening.  Which one of us is ever prepared to face death?  And this is true, mostly of those who are left behind. 

But it is not her death that I am thinking of.  It is her life.  A beautiful life, although not perfect, lived with courage and love.  She was everything and anything a friend should be, and I was blessed by her presence in my life.  I spent yesterday going through a box of old photos.  What a rich life was recorded there, captured on film, and of course, it made me cry.  

We spent the past 30 years sharing each other’s secret things, each other’s lives, disappointments and accomplishments. She had an uncanny way of knowing when something was wrong with me, even if I was nowhere around her. She knew when I was really sick, or if it was just heartsick.  She had an instinct about the things I was getting myself into.  If she didn’t go along to participate, she would warn me not to do it, and if I did, she would slap me, then kiss me, and call me “Stupe.” We used to sit out on the concrete step in back of our office and talk about growing old together and buying houses next door to each other.  We talked about growing up, about our home lives; we shared our sins and our triumphs with each other.  We rejoiced in each other’s accomplishments, and cried in each other’s sorrows.  We truly became sisters.  We grew so close that we could feel each other, even from miles away.  

We talked so much about the Lord and Heaven this past year that both of us began to think about it. After all, for those who believe in Him, that is our home.  Although she was suffering so much this last year, she wanted to hear about our home.  Just like those days out back of the office talking about making homes here on this earth in this life, we talked about Heaven and what our life would be like there. 

In the past few weeks, since she passed, just a thought about her is enough to send me to the Kleenex box.  A song on the radio, a sunset, the rain, driving to where she lived. It is as if I can still hear her voice. And because we always talked so much to each other, out of habit I found myself talking to her.  I was just looking up at the ceiling and blurted out, “Great, Rose, now I am going to be like Fred Sanford! Talking to the dead!”  

A few nights ago, while sitting on my porch, I was talking to God about how it feels like there is a hole in my heart. A piece is missing.  It would seem that Rose left and took that piece with her. But this time I heard her, distinctly, in that annoyed voice she would get when I just didn’t “get” it.  And she said, “I am not gone! “  
  
Immediately a poem came to mind that my Grandad used to read to me.  I hope after all of this, I now understand the meaning behind it.  I have changed it a little to fit my Rose, Our Rose.  (My apologies to James Whitcomb Riley.) 

Away

I cannot say, and I will not say
That she is dead, she is just away!
With a cheery smile, and a wave of the hand
She has wandered into an unknown land,
And left us dreaming how very fair
It needs must be, since she lingers there.
And you-- O you, who the wildest yearn
For the old-time step and the glad return--,
Think of her faring on, as dear
In His love there, as in our love here. 
Where the sweetest love of her life she gave
The touches of her hands have strayed
As reverently as her lips have prayed:
Think of her still as the same, I say:
She is not dead-- she is just away!

Ok, Rose, I get it.  See you later, my Sister! 

On my heart... (Take a moment to listen to the song by Casting Crowns)

It is all over the news.  Everywhere I look.  No, it is not the crime rate, or the horrible attacks that kill scores of people.  It is not the political agenda, or the division that is severing our country.  It is the humongous footprint of hate.  And the part that is hurting my heart, is the hate that is spewing from those who call themselves by the name of Christ.  

There is the church from Kansas, who spend their time going around the country to protest the gay agenda and at soldiers funerals.  Where is their love?  Their website is an agenda of hate, and it even uses the word hate right there on the first page.  Their current teaching is that God hates .. lots of things.   

And this is true. God hates that which destroys us.  Just as a mother hates to see her child get involved in things that will harm that child, God hates to see us get involved in things that will destroy us.  But He does not hate US.  Or for that matter, He does not hate anyone.  He loves everyone, which is why He sent Jesus to pay the price for the things we do wrong.  No greater love exists.  And yet... 

I read an article today from my local AOL, with the heading " Why do Christians express joy in knowing that their friends are going to be tortured in Hell?"    It made me sad.  Because I know there are those out there, professing to be Christians who are like this. 

I attempted with all my might to respond to Atheist.  I am inept enough on the computer to never have gotten the message posted.  But I can post my reply to him here, hoping somehow he will see it, and know that he is not hated.  

And here we go...

Dear Atheist, I am sorry that your perception has been that Christians enjoy expressing the fact that God would send people to Hell. This is so far from the truth, well, it is a blatant lie.  And it is not representative of who Christians are supposed to be. Although I am aware that there are those out there of this bent, it can be said of them that they are either only professing to be Christians, or that they have fallen out of relationship with Christ.  The message that He brought was that of love, and that is the true mark of a Christian. He loved everyone, regardless of their tenets of belief, regardless of whether they accepted Him or rejected Him. 

The truth has obviously not been told to you, that Hell was created not for humans, but for fallen angels.  The truth is that those who do not accept Christ, will be going there. And the truth is that a way was made for them NOT to go there.  Its all in the acceptance of Christ as your redeemer, savior and friend. 
A simple example of how this works is this:  You are offered a ticket, paid for in full to get out of Hell when the big one hits.  You can either accept the ticket, or decide to go to Hell and be destroyed.  But YOU are the one who is in control of that, not God.  He is the one who paid for the ticket. 

It is true that there are those unloving, hell fire preaching, damnation people who yell, with a gleam in their eye, that YOU ARE GOING TO HELL. Do not let yourself be deceived.  Just because they look like they are enjoying it, doesn't mean what they are saying is not true.   However, a true Christian would love you, no matter what, and CRY because you are going to Hell.  I no more understand the hell fire and damnation people than I do those who would reject the chance for a free ticket to Heaven.  But I know this much. My Savior would have me love them both, just as He does.  No matter what. 

I do not know you.  But He does.  And He knows the hurt that is in your heart, the things that drive you, and the path you are on.  He wants to walk with you, loving you, and leading you to a life that exhibits love. Personally, I cannot imagine my life without Him, nor would I want to.  

I hope someday you will finally understand.  I will pray for you.  

Romans 5:7-9

New King James Version (NKJV)

⁷ For scarcely for a righteous man will one die; yet perhaps for a good man someone would even dare to die. ⁸ But God demonstrates His own love toward us, in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us. ⁹ Much more then, having now been justified by His blood, we shall be saved from wrath through Him.

Putting The Doctors on Notice...

Yes, I am venting today.  Or maybe, I am just stating the obvious, and putting any doctors I see on notice from here on out.
So you know how you get notice from the Doctors office via telephone, text, in writing and in person, that if you miss an appointment and do not give 48 hours notice, you will be charged a missed appointment fee equal to half your yearly wages, plus interest and fees?
Why does that not apply both ways?  Let me explain.  It took and act of God to get my dad an appointment for a surgical consultation.  He resides in a nursing home, and in order for that appointment to get scheduled, it had to go through approval by the Nurse practitioner, the Nurse, the Transportation person and the Appointment scheduler.  Now although it was considered an "urgent" matter" it took a month to schedule this.  To top it off, I had to request time off for part of the week, rearrange my work schedule, and  rearrange my own doctors appointments, so I would not get charged a missed appointment fee.

We were supposed to meet at the Doctors office at 12:00 noon.  At 11:15, they called the nurses desk at the nursing home, and cancelled the appointment.  They didn't bother to call me, my dad had to do that. 
So Here is the notice the Doctor will be receiving, and any others who dare do the same thing...

Missed appointment cancellation policy.  8/11/12

Be advised that you missed your appointment that was scheduled for 08/07/12 without prior notice.  It is our policy that a missed appointment fee will be applied to the charges for this appointment.  The detailed bill follows.

1. Shock and Awe fee.  This is charged because it took the Army of God to make the appointment, two months to book it, and 2 seconds to say you were not showing up.  Base fee $10.00.  Other charges may apply.
2. Aggravation fee.   This fee is charged when the appointee had to make special arrangements to attend the appointment, such as rescheduling work, re-booking other appointments, tending to hurt feelings, and taking high blood pressure medication when you called and so rudely said. “Your appointment is cancelled” without giving a reason.   $35.00
3. Putting up with you fee.  This is charged simply because you think you can cancel any appointment because you are the doctor.  (See good cause for missed appointment reasons following.  This fee will not be charged if you have any evidence of some reason you could not show up.)  $55.00. 
4. Total of your missed appointment fee.  $100.00. 

Good Cause for missed appointment. 

A fee will not be charged for putting up with you, if you can provide evidence that any of the following incidents prevented you from keeping your appointment, or canceling with out 48 hours notice. 

1. Your death.   Please provide a notarized copy of certificate of death. 
2. Death in your family.  Ditto the above.
3. Stupidity.  You do not treat these type of diseases.  Please provide your Medical license and proof that you are a Doctor.
4. Car trouble.  Provide proof that you do not have adequate transportation and that you live out in the boonies somewhere a taxi could not pick you up or you could not take public transportation. 

Good cause for a missed appointment will not be accepted for any of the following reasons:

1. Your golf game is off and your feelings were hurt because you are under par.  We already know that by your previous actions. 
2. Your wife did not make coffee and you did not wake up in time. Grow up, make your own.
3. You forgot your bag.  Your brain was in it. Too bad.
4. Your partner (who we assume is also a Doctor) did not show up for work, and you had to take his appointments for him.  He is being charged also if this applies.  Too bad, so sad.

Please note: we accept only cash or cashiers checks.  Interest and fees will accumulate if you fail to pay and you may be turned over to collections.  Note also that unless we receive notice of good cause for the missed appointment, we will tell all our friends, our friend's friends, and post on Facebook, My Space and in the local paper that you are not trustworthy enough to keep an appointment..  The Management.  
Note: We use a private collection agency. We advise that if you are visited by two burly guys who say they were sent by Michael Scalponini, (Bookmakers and Protection, LLC),that you pay up quick. 

When He comes back for me.... copyright 1985 S Linn Gomez

Time alone,

To tidy the rooms and chase the dust,

Knock down the cobwebs of time,

Before He comes for me.

He has allowed me these days

To be myself

And so badly it went without Him,

And I cried for needing Him so.

How I ever

Let such a mess be

I am so amazed as I look at it.

But this was what I chose

For my time alone.

He did not chide me

When He came back for me

But took me gently by the hand

And showed me the rooms,

And the miracle was..

They were all clean!

Seasons of life (circa 2002)

I decided to cheat today and use an old writing.  Not so much that I don't feel like writing, but this is so appropriate for what I am feeling today, that I can't say it any better than I already did.  So here you go.. Flashback from 2002..

A Season of Butterflies

Out in the southwestern desert, we don’t have seasons like every other place on earth.  Yes, occasionally there is the abrupt change of color in the leaves for fall, in fact, I think I have seen that twice in the 26 years I have lived here.  And most assuredly, we have snow, I remember 5 times exactly.  And of course, there is spring, sometime in mid December, when most of us who came from somewhere else are ready to go hibernate somewhere else.    No, it is not the same here, but God does send seasons. 

There is the traffic season.  This occurs twice a year, once before Christmas when the snowbirds arrive, and once when school is out and everyone is trying to escape to a cooler climate.  There is hunting season, which in Tucson means that Dillard's is having a sale on sheets, and the women have blood in their eye, and a credit card firmly clenched in their hand. 

But really, we do have seasons here.  One of them, Fall, is almost imperceptible, just a hint of light changing, and then it is gone.  I mark this season by what I see.  One of the things I see are Monarch Butterflies.

Monarchs are beautiful creatures, even if they are bugs.  They are enormous, and drift through the sky like birds, and may even fool you into believing they are if you don’t have enough patience to watch.  Every year they migrate, (YES, I said migrate) to Mexico to breed, and then return to lay their eggs.  Lately I have seen them drifting through the sky southward.  This tells me that Fall has arrived, and soon another season will pass.  Just like the seasons in life pass.  Some of them so quickly they too are almost imperceptible.

In reality, when the seasons change we are happy at first and then we start to moan about whatever it is we don’t like about the season.  If it is Summer, we are ready for the heat to end, If it is Fall we are ready for snow to come, If it is spring, we are ready for Summer to hit. If it is the season of traffic, we want the snowbirds to leave, and if it is the season of sales, we don't like what is on sale.  It seems we are happy, but it is only for a brief period of time, and then we are looking for something more.  I think this is part of why God created deserts, to teach us to be content with what we have.
Arizona is unlike any place on earth.  Dry, hot, but green.  Go figure.  One of the amazing things I see about this land is that people react different here than anywhere I have ever been.  In Colorado, where I lived prior to my desert experience, if it rained everyone ran indoors.  When it rains in Arizona, everyone rushes outside to see it before it is gone.  Then of course, we start to complain about the humidity.  As humans, we just can’t seem to be content, and this is why God created seasons, I believe.  To wake us up, to give us something to think about, to turn our hearts and eyes back toward Him. 

Today as I watched the season of the Butterflies enter, I watched as they drifted around on the Fall breeze and I thought about how discontent I have been with my life at times.  I find myself wanting to go home, to Colorado, but when I was there I wanted to go everywhere else.  I guess I am sort of like those butterflies, always having the urge to migrate. I think if I really stopped to see what they go through just in their everyday existence, I might be more content at home.

I can picture Ma and Pa Monarch, packing all their shoes, 3 pair each for an outing, and Ma exclaiming that she just doesn't have enough shoes, and there is a sale going on at Dillard's and can't they just wait until the traffic season comes, so she can hit the 75% off sale.  Pa is glaring at her, and muttering under his butterfly breath, that he needs a Stinkin' new RV, cause last time they flew south, they almost got plowed down by a flock of Canadian Geese, (who by the way, Pa says are aliens, and really should take themselves back to where ever it is Canadian Geese come from.)  He is busily packing all of his hunting equipment, and wondering where he left the shells to his itty bitty butterfly shotgun, ‘cause this time when those rude geese go by at 120 miles per hour, he has a present for them, and he snickers under his breath.
In the end they just give up and flap their big butterfly wings and head south, with Ma complaining she is not sure if she left the coffeemaker turned off.  Pa is busy keeping an eye out for those darn geese. 

Now how silly does this really sound?  In reality, it actually sounds just like people.  Think of that, before you start to pride yourself on being Homo Erectus.  A butterfly has more common sense than a human does.
He knows when to pack and leave, and when to come back.  He sees the times and seasons, and does what he is supposed to do without complaint.  He notices every little bit of seasonal change, because his existence, and the future existence of his offspring, depends on it.  He is totally aware of the things God has put in place for him, and he doesn’t sit around complaining and waiting for something good to happen. 

Now I like seasons, some more than others.  And this season of the butterflies opens my eyes to see something much subtler than a change of light or the direction of the sun.  It opens my eyes to see the changes of the seasons of my soul.  I think perhaps I should take heed, without complaint, and pack all of my own shoes, take the lead of the butterflies, sans shotgun, and be grateful I got to see another season, either of the earth, or my soul.

So I am making a promise to myself, in writing so in case the season of Alzheimer's hits me I won't forget,
To be content in what God gives, spring or summer, winter or fall, Traffic or hunting season, and yes, even those dry desert seasons of the soul.  Today I think I will just enjoy the butterflies.

He Called My Name.....

When the sacrifice was finished, the body of Jesus securely hidden away, and the political machine that had ordered his execution satisfied that even his body could not be retrieved, the disciples, and those that loved him hid in fear.  For three days, they were hidden away, in grief, fearing for their lives and the lives of their families. 

I have been hidden away in grief before.  It is a darker pit than any grave, for your soul burns within you to hold that dear one again.  Your mind races over all the things you should have said and done, but didn’t.   You heart begs for one more chance to make things right.  Your body longs to go to the grave with the one you loved.
I can only imagine how these men and women were feeling.  Not only had they lost their dearest friend, they had lost their hope.  For this one who now lay in a tomb, was the one they believed would be the savior of their nation.  For them, all hope was gone.

The women, as women will do, went about the tasks that still had to be done.  To them fell the task of the body being properly prepared for the grave.  Early in the morning, they woke, took the necessary things, and went to the tomb where the soldiers were guarding Jesus body.  I am sure they were thinking how would they get the soldiers to let them pass, or who would roll the great stone away from the entrance, but more I am thinking, they were, as women do, trying to just get on with life, without any hope for the future.

Imagine the vision.  The soldiers are gone. Where could they be?
What would have caused a Roman soldier to leave his post, knowing his life would be forfeited if he did?  And then the sight of the entrance to the tomb… the stone rolled away to the side.  Had they taken his body and hidden it? 

Picture yourself in that circumstance.  What if this were the body of someone you love, and now it is gone?  You are powerless.  Your body, overcome with grief and fear, trembles.  Tears flow in unceasing, uncontrollable great rivers.  Where have they taken him? 

The scripture at John 20: 11 - 16, describes a meeting that forever will hold my heart. It cannot be said a better way…
“ But Mary stood outside by the tomb weeping, and as she wept she stooped down and looked into the tomb.  And she saw two angels in white sitting, one at the head and the other at the feet, where the body of Jesus had lain.  Then they said to her, “Woman, why are you weeping?”  She said to them, “Because they have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid Him.”
Now when she had said this, she turned around and saw Jesus standing there, and did not know that it was Jesus. Jesus said to her, “Woman, why are you weeping? Whom are you seeking?”

She, supposing Him to be the gardener, said to Him, “Sir, if You have carried Him away, tell me where You have laid Him, and I will take Him away.”

Jesus said to her, “Mary!”

He spoke her name.  It was all she needed to know it was Jesus. 

We all know voices. We get a phone call from a friend we have not heard from in a while, and we know their voice instantly.  Children who are out playing, hear a women’s voice calling and know exactly who is calling them.  From birth to death, we begin to recognize voices.  Each voice distinct in it’s tone, it’s urgency.  We only need to hear it to know if it is a cry for help, a voice of recognition.  Think of someone you love, saying your name.  You know that voice. No one else says that name the way they do.

And so it was for Mary.  And so it was for me.  I have heard that voice call my name.  “Susan” softly as if in a whisper inside my soul, and I needed nothing else to know that it was the voice of my Savior. 

He is risen, He is alive, and He is calling your name today…