WHAT'S ONE LIFE WORTH?

One life. One life. One life. One life.

my friend: texted with my brother today. "it" has come back.
me: the cancer?
my friend: yeah, cancer or an infection (nervous laugh)
me: i am so sorry. were you able to talk to him?
my friend: no. it hurts him too much to talk. we texted. i don't want to talk about it. lets watch a dumb t.v. show.
me: ya gottit!

text to my phone: pray for melanie. she stopped breathing. they are on the way to the emergency room.
(melanie is a four year old girl who fits into a modified stroller. she has severe scoliosis. her body is bending in on itself. if she is not saved the experience by a premature death, she will literally turn in on herself and die for lack of breath.)
me: in silent prayer..."oh God! oh God! oh God! be with this family and this child as this may be her time. help her family to see her entering into the arms of Jesus. oh God! oh God! oh God"

phone call: mom, we got off work early. my boss came running out of the house we were working on yelling for us to throw everything on the truck because we had to go right that minute.
me: what on earth?
son: he got a call his adult son had been in a very serious accident. no one knew more details.
me: i know that fear. i felt it driving to the hospital when i got a call from a nurse telling me you were in the er and that i should drive carefully. my mind went numb. my body went numb. then i headed for the hospital numb all over, panicked, oozing fear, praying . i know that fear.

email from my friend whos' daughter, Maria, was born beautiful and healthy. at 16 months she began to regress to the horror and fear of her parents. she had seizures, violent, long seizures. she had symptoms of autism, epilepsy, on and on it went. The name of the beast was Rhett's disease. mostly young girls, unseen at first, attacks in early years. I met my friend on an airplane flight. Conversation began. He was angry, in despair, trying all the self-help books, all the "if you have enough faith" churches, all the speaking it so that it would be so and nothing was helping her. He was terrified that he and his wife would die without enough resources to provide for their daughter. He was working harder and harder to make money. At home he was part of a 24 hr. a day care team. At home his daughter would not know him when he came home, she could not walk, she screamed and writhed in horrific siezures. She threw herself against the wall. Hospital trip after hospital trip.
 We stayed in touch sporadically. We had talked about Christ on that plane. As the year's  passed and no change happened for Maria, her father began to change. He surrendered. He began to talk about God in our emails. Time passed.  He took his daughter to a state of the art program with hope that their holistic approach would help. Nothing changed except that somewhere in those years Maria recognized her father for the first time.
Time passed. Maria will soon be 19 years old. My friend has been part of a group of people putting together an organization for people like Maria. He sent me an email with a link I will share. She is an angel. He has always been right about her being an angel. He speaks of God with a deep love now. He has seasoned.
 He is having major surgery on his neck to remove spurs. He says he has been in horrible pain for years. The doctors have finally found the source of the pain. He has never mentioned his pain to me.
He sent the link below. Brain Restoration Ministeries is a fledgling organization born out of the seasoning of many parents and friends. The first story you hear is theone told by my friend and his lovely daughter Maria. 

www.brainrestorationministries.com

Maria's mother is a pharmacist and has a long list of studies shown with her picture as part of the team of professionals working to find help for these children.

 

As my friend asks,

 

"What's One Life Worth?"

VERY SHORT BURST OF WTF

Training for a new job with the same company. customer service. i can do that with both eyes shut and my ankles tied together. BUT they have all these dang apps and codes and stuff like: go  to the third tree on your  right, circle it four times EXACTLY, run back into the house and try to get the username and password into that itty bitty space before it times out and then I, rock scientist supreme, realize that I can run from here to China but it ain't gonna work cause I, the wisest of the wise, have transposed the last two numbers of the userid and it will be a cold day in you know where before I can access the holy grail I am seeking.

I shrink into my chair and, with trembling hands, chat the trainers. I tell them that I knew I was crazy but I had no idea I was dyslexic! I could almost hear them collectively shout...





wtf!!

 

 

 

Whispering Grass - A Griffin will understand

MY FALSE BRAVADO ILLUSTRATED PERFECTLY

Humility and Other Stuff

(well for the love of crackers and hot chocolate, I cannot center this to save my formidable arse)


As I have stated in various posts this blog is not really an avenue for me to gain a large audience. It is an avenue for me to write and whomever finds their way here either by invitation or some unfortunate mishap is welcome. I am eternally in transition, as I suspect we all are, were the truth known. I write about my life in Christ and I write about my character defects and I write stream of consciousness more than less. I think stream of consciousness is attractive to me because I can jump from one thought to another without burdening myself with a set of criteria.

Oh dear, I just had an alarming thought. Please grant me this one request. If there is a writing criteria for stream of consciousness please don't tell me. I don't see how it would be possible to set a criteria for steam of consciousness. One day that stream may flow full and swift; the next it may meander along twisting and turning at random. God, why don't I just shut up? I did mention humility as if I have a modicum of it.

Humility sucks suggests that I have been playing around the edges of that most desirable of character traits. Events conspired this week to put the mirror of character defects before me. One look into that mirror exposed me for a temperamental, self-absorbed, angry woman, at least for the set of events of this particular week. I would like to add, in an attempt to gather a bit of my self-respect back, that I was and have been under the influence of steroids. Steroids have the unfortunate effect on me of setting myself only slightly lower than a god. A mean tempered little god, not a loving or benevolent god. No, I trend to the mythical gods who at every opportunity held themselves above all other gods. In an unfortunate twist of moods, I also become sensitive to any and all stimulation that enters my world. I guess I would have to commit to the assignation of "ass-hole god". Yes, that fits. Diabolically I rarely inform the people around me that I am under the influence of steroids. Hence, they encounter a sensitive ass-hole bearing no resemblance to a god, big or small for no apparent reason at all.

Several days later and no clue where I was headed with the humility stuff. That humbles me a bit.













for pity's sake I cannot get this dang alignment to go back to the left leaving me square in the middle a position with which i have very little frame of reference. it serves me right after posting this adorable child who lightens up my every day and i have the nerve to place him in a post that seems to be leading nowhere at all. AND, yes, I have chosen the left alignment and saved it and done it again and saved it again so please reserve comments (as if....hilarious guffaws and peals of laughter)

Horse feathers and cotton candy!

Roast Beef and Radishes!

 

As I was going out of my umble jumper,

I met a rerock toting away my randy pipe.

I said to myself if I had my tit ma tat

I'd make that rerock throw down my randy pipe.

 

Hence, the "other stuff"!

 

Short curtsy,

blow of a kiss

a wing of the eye

 

Good-bye!





From Glory to Glory

 

A WEE BIT OF GLEE

 

 

 

MOMENTARY GLEE IS OVER

Stream of consciousness. I want to float along in my stream of consciousness. Random thoughts from the holiday season. Not one party. Not one gift. Gave no gifts. Sick with the crud...over and over and over. Beautiful donors. My grandson's bike was free. Beautiful donor. My son's family had food to eat .Beautiful  donor. A woman in the Wal-Mart line paid my friend's grocery bill when my friend's card would not  take. Beautiful donor. Jesus I see your face. You are so beautiful to me. John passed away...died to be more realistic about it. He suffered for a short time and was gone. Beautiful blessing. Miss Bea protected by the very angels from heaven. Joyous, beautiful glory. John's funeral became a spirit-filled abundance of love, love and more love. Death held no grip on us. Death lost that day and the Holy Spirit allowed each of us to experience John in our own way. The Holy Spirit poured out a golden liquid of love on Ms. Bea. Love flowed through that church. Joy danced on the back of the pews touching each shoulder of those attending. A gentle hush fell. The going away of John began. God, you magnificent, wonderful, majestic, Father of all here, all gone and all to come. Come Lord Jesus! Touch us as we say good bye to our friend who humbly walked this earth . A servant's heart left a gift for his beloved wife. John ran that funeral and John set up the events so that we could all see the mysterious power of the indwelling Christ manifested. Glory upon glory. A glimpse of heaven on John's day of homecoming. We let him go. His job complete. Ms Bea, loved from the very heavens, left here without her John, filled with a peace that passes all understanding walks with the heart of a human missing a human and the gracious gift of a peace that passes all understanding. Jesus! Jesus! Jesus! There is something about that Name!

The rest of the story will come in the next few days. To put it mildly, a roller coaster ride at triple speed followed the Beautiful Day. The deadly snake of timeless evil drew back his head blinking malevolent eyes of golden fire in our direction. I sensed the fetid smell, warm breath, intense scrutiny of this hellish reptile. I knew every drop of our beautiful time in the presence of the Holy Spirit must stand guard calling to Jesus, holding firm to our vision at John's funeral, empowered by the angel armies of God Himself. I drew my breath in deeply. I know this old enemy intimately. But, I saw him robbed of the tragedy of death at the funeral of my friend John where the fire deep in my bosom was lit by the fire of glory. I do not fear. I wait to see what treachery dwells within this beast. I stand ready to fight alongside the host of warriors who from age to age have grown in number. The Body of Christ stands ready. Alleluia!



.

Just A Little Something

My friend John has gone to heaven and is buried in a cemetery in New Bern, N.C. I just had the thought that I now have one friend buried in a cementary in New Bern and another friend buried under a brick at the beautiful Presbyterian church in the heart of New Bern's downtown. 

Today I did not go to church. I needed the day. My stomach was all 6's and 9's. As I am typing I realize this day has felt like two days. I have been busy at some points. It has been a normal day, I suppose. I grew spacey as the day wore on; found myself shook up at the degree of spacey today.

An acquaintance three doors down from me lost her job of 8 years. She was fired on the spot. She says she does not know why they would fire her. She doesn't have any heating because her heating system is out and she does not have the money to fix it and infers on facebook that this may be the tip of the iceberg. She began the post with comments of how her family has let her down even though they know her needs. She expresses her needs clearly and gets nothing back in return. I have known her for a number of years if only by occasional interactions. The self-destruction has begun. The pattern is as familiar to me as the face of an old friend. How do I know this about this woman when we have not spoken other than hellos and good-byes in a number of years? A glimpse of a garbage bag full of empty beer cans told me the story. She has fallen into the arms of her disease. Self-destruction began with the first drink. I know this path. But, she does not ask for help. She blames the world and family and friends for her fate in life. My urge is to close myself off from her. Avoid her. The progression of the disease is difficult to watch. Her vulnerability reminds me of my own. 

On a brighter note it is now Monday. A new 24 hours has begun.          

My friend John has gone. No turning back! No turning back!