Field of Daisies

Memorial Day is not just a great day to kick off the summer, nor is it just a paid day off work for many people. Memorial Day is the day our country has set aside to remember those who have served in our military -- those who have been wounded, and those who have given their lives that freedom may prevail. Let us never forget their faithfulness nor their great sacrifice.

America's Wars: U.S. Casualties and Veterans

American Revolution (1775–1783)
Total servicemembers 217,000
Battle deaths 4,435
Nonmortal woundings 6,188

War of 1812 (1812–1815)
Total servicemembers 286,730
Battle deaths 2,260
Nonmortal woundings 4,505

Indian Wars (approx. 1817–1898)
Total servicemembers 106,0001
Battle deaths 1,0001

Mexican War (1846–1848)
Total servicemembers 78,718
Battle deaths 1,733
Other deaths in service (nontheater) 11,550
Nonmortal woundings 4,152

Civil War (1861–1865)
Total servicemembers (Union) 2,213,363
Battle deaths (Union) 140,414
Other deaths in service (nontheater) (Union) 224,097
Nonmortal woundings (Union) 281,881
Total servicemembers (Conf.) 1,050,000
Battle deaths (Conf.) 74,524
Other deaths in service (nontheater) (Conf.) 59,2972
Nonmortal woundings (Conf.) unknown

Spanish-American War (1898–1902)
Total servicemembers 306,760
Battle deaths 385
Other deaths in service (nontheater) 2,061
Nonmortal woundings 1,662

World War I (1917–1918)
Total servicemembers 4,734,991
Battle deaths 53,402
Other deaths in service (nontheater) 63,114
Nonmortal woundings 204,002
Living veterans fewer than 500

World War II (1940–1945)
Total servicemembers 16,112,566
Battle deaths 291,557
Other deaths in service (nontheater) 113,842
Nonmortal woundings 671,846
Living veterans 4,762,0001

Korean War (1950–1953)
Total servicemembers 5,720,000
Serving in-theater 1,789,000
Battle deaths 33,741
Other deaths in service (theater) 2,827
Other deaths in service (nontheater) 17,730
Nonmortal woundings 103,284
Living veterans 3,734,0001

Vietnam War (1964–1975)
Total servicemembers 8,744,000
Serving in-theater 3,403,000
Battle deaths 47,410
Other deaths in service (theater) 10,789
Other deaths in service (nontheater) 32,000
Nonmortal woundings 153,303
Living veterans 8,295,0001

Gulf War (1990–1991)
Total servicemembers 2,183,000
Serving in-theater 665,476
Battle deaths 147
Other deaths in service (theater) 382
Other deaths in service (nontheater) 1,565
Nonmortal woundings 467
Living veterans 1,852,0001

America's Wars Total
Military service during war 42,348,460
Battle deaths 651,008
Other deaths in service (theater) 13,998
Other deaths in service (nontheater) 525,256
Nonmortal woundings 1,431,290
Living war veterans 17,578,5003
Living veterans 25,038,459

1. Veterans Administration estimate as of Sept. 30, 2002.
2. Estimated figure. Does not include 26,000–31,000 who died in Union prisons.
3. Approximately 1,065,000 veterans had service in multiple conflicts. They are counted under each

Above stats found at http://www.infoplease.com/ipa/A0004615.html

-------------------------

U.S. Casualties of the Iraqi War*
Deaths (to date): 800+
Wounded (to date): 4,600

*According to the Washington Post

Posted by at 09:47 AM | Permalink

Yes, summer is officially here. The piano recital, the STOMP musical, the 6th grade graduation are all behind us. (Jenna did an excellent job in the musical last week, btw! She sang her solo with gusto in front of a packed sanctuary. Amazing!) (Jenna and Janae, Best Friends
At the STOMP Musical)

The kids have had one full day out of school (as I write this) and already they've been bored. (What is wrong with kids these days? Never mind. I know... I know....) If I would let them watch all the TV they want or play all the electronic games they want, they would have plenty to do. However I am not one of those do-whatever-you-want-as-long-as-you-stay-out-of-my-hair-moms. My conscience won't allow me to let them veg in front of the TV or Game Cube all summer. The challenge for them is to find other things with which to entertain themselves. (As I always tell them: "You are in charge of your own fun.") The challenge for me is to stick to my guns, as they say -- and not lose my sanity in the process!

Zach's summer piano lessons are scheduled. I need to schedule guitar lessons for Jenna, and swimming lessons for them both. Somewhere in the mix each will go to camp for a week, and our whole family will be attending VBS in June. Oh, and I can't forget their karate lessons that will continue three times a week. (Whew! I'm tired already!)

Anyway, summer is in full swing. The only thing we're missing, so far, is our family vacation.... Hmmm. Now there's a project I can get into!

Posted by at 10:25 AM | Permalink

I approached May 25th with mixed emotions. It was our kids' last day of school for the 2003-2004 term. It also marked our son Zach's graduation from Elementary School.

The day was full of festivities. The kids spent part of the morning at a local park with their classmates and teachers. Then Zach joined his classmates at CiCi's for lunch and Putt-Around for some mini-golf. Then he went to his friend Jonas' house for a couple of hours of swimming. He was exhausted by the time he arrived home that afternoon, but there was no rest for him. His grandparents and an aunt were here to greet him. (They had driven in from out of town for his graduation exercises.)

We all went to dinner then on to the school at 6:30 for the big event of the day. The ceremony itself lasted less than an hour. It was both moving and frustrating. Frustrating because the microphone needed to be adjusted so we could hear the kids' speeches. Moving because as each graduate received his or her diploma, they were also handed a rose and a letter. Each one had purchased a rose (with their own money) to be given to their mom, and each had written a letter to their parents thanking them for all they've done for them so far. (Yes, I cried.)

This semester was quite an adjustment for Zach. He entered 2004 with a whole new life: a new school with new classmates, new rules, new friends, new curriculum, and new challenges. I think he made the adjustment amazingly well. Having been home schooled for his first 6 1/2 years, institutional schooling was indeed a major leap for him. But he did it with all the grace and stamina any 12-year-old boy can muster. (Yes, I'm very proud of him.)

Following the ceremony there was a reception hosted by the incoming 6th grade class. Another of Zach's aunts and uncles had also come for the ceremony, so they joined us for the reception as well. (Along with our 7-week-old great nephew!) After the reception we went back into the chapel for the silliness, as they put it. There was the reading of the who's-who and the 6th grade's last will and testament to the 5th grade class. Finally, the evening ended with a music video of growing-up photos of each of the graduates along with pictures from recent activities the 6th graders enjoyed together at school.

The end result was the stark realization that our little boy is growing up. He is no longer an elementary school kid. He's a middle schooler. Some of the kids in his class have already begun shooting skyward in height. And the girls, well, most of them look like they're 15 already...! (Yikes!)

The coming year is going to bring about a lot of changes in our son.... But the heart of this mother, while excited about all the future holds for this exceptional young man, can't help but want to hold on a while longer to the little boy.... (Yes, I'm crying again...!)

Even so, it is as it should be. And our God is good all the time. May He watch over our precious son all the days of his life. And may Zach choose to glorify our God with all that he is.

Posted by at 09:59 AM | Permalink

Here's a great site to check out.... It's called Books for Soldiers. In their own words:

"Books For Soldiers is a soldier support site that ships books, DVDs and supplies to deployed soliders and soldiers in VA hospitals...."

This is but one of many ways to support our men and women in uniform. I was told recently by a reliable source that our service men and women are sustained by the strength of those at home... In my opinion, that's the least we can do. And may we never take their sacrifices for granted.

Posted by at 09:51 PM | Permalink

Here's another gem from my stockpile of "old" articles. This one is from 1996.

A Lesson in Contentment

We in America live in luxury. Running water in our homes is standard. Inside toilets are commonplace. Electricity is available at the flip of a switch. Most of us can maintain the perfect temperature within our homes year round if we so desire. We have access to the latest fashions. We have shoes for every occasion. We want for nothing. Or so you would think.

Seeing all that we have, it astounds me that I still want more. My kitchen sink is chipped. I want a new one. My floor tile is long out of style. I want to replace it. The carpeting throughout the house is old and, well, not what I would've chosen. I want new carpet. I want, I want, I want. Contentment becomes a casualty of the want-more's. I want more!

My husband and I have a great marriage. We have two beautiful children: a boy and a girl. We are all healthy. We own our home. We have two vehicles in the driveway. My husband has his own company. Most of all we have a growing, personal relationship with Jesus Christ. What more could we want?

In Philippians 4, Paul shares that he has "learned to be content whatever the circumstances." Ah, so this contentment thing is learned. He continues, "I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty." Okay, so he's been there. He's done without. "I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want." Oh, so there's a secret to this.... "I can do everything through Him who gives me strength." Ah-ha. It all comes back to Jesus.

That sounds simple enough. Simple, yes. But never easy.

In the past two years I've had two experiences where I was faced with doing "it" through Christ, in His strength. The first was the birth of our second child. The labor and delivery went perfectly. But a few hours later, for some unknown reason, our sweet baby girl stopped breathing...five times in one hour. I will never forget when the nurse practitioner came to tell us about Jenna's condition. There was no hope in her voice. She was preparing us for the worst. In a moment, the bottom dropped out of our joy and we were free-falling in the black uncertainty of an illness we knew nothing about. We were helpless. All we could do was trust God to do what was best for us and Jenna. All we could do was hold on to Him and His strength. There in that hospital room He became our strength---and our peace. He gently carried us through the next ten days as we watched and waited. Finally, on Christmas Eve we brought our precious gift from God home, perfectly healthy.

The second situation happened the following Christmas. After experiencing the temporary loss of my peripheral vision I contacted my doctor to determine if I needed to be examined. I wasn't ready for her response. There was urgency in her voice as she advised me to seek the medical attention of an ophthalmologist as soon as possible. Her concern? Multiple Sclerosis.

Because of the Christmas holiday, I had to wait a full week for the appointment. During that week, my husband and I considered all the implications that accompany MS. Would I end up in a wheelchair? Would it be a minor inconvenience or a major change in every aspect of our lives? We assumed the worst then hoped for the best.

The interesting thing about that week was that although I constantly mulled over the questions, internally I was filled with indescribable joy and peace. For probably the first time in my life I was truly thankful for my mobility, agility and independence. The sky seemed to be bluer than ever before. The trees, although brown and bare, were beautiful to me. I laughed more that week, enjoying the little things that so often went unnoticed.

As it turned out, what I had experienced was not MS, but a minor inconvenience, the result of stress. What could have been a diagnosis of disability, became a rare and precious gift. For Christmas God had given me the gift of His strength, His joy, His peace---even in the face of fear.

I promised myself I wouldn't let the preciousness of that gift fade. I promised myself I wouldn't forget how blue the sky was or how thankful I was for those things in my life I had always taken for granted.

Even so it wasn't long till discontentment began to ease it's way back into my thinking. The kitchen sink was still chipped. The carpet still stained. But God has been true to Himself, and to me, in that He has gently reminded me about true contentment. And now I, like Paul, can say I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. The interesting thing is that need and plenty have been redefined. My need is to lean on Jesus no matter what the circumstances. Plenty smiles at me every morning from her crib and plenty fills my legs with strength as I walk over to pick her up. I still need reminders, but I can honestly say, I am learning the secret.

Posted by at 07:26 PM | Permalink

I just started reading a new book, another by John Eldredge titled The Journey of Desire: Searching For The Life We Always Dreamed Of. I also purchased the journal and guidebook to go along with this one, and I'm glad I did. I read the first chapter of the book last night and worked through the first chapter of the guidebook today. I feel certain this book is going to change my life.... I'll let you know how it goes....

Posted by at 01:57 PM | Permalink

Since the topics on my blog have been pretty heavy lately, I thought a little comic relief was in order. So I've pulled an old story out of the vault to share with you. In fact I'll probably be pulling a few of them out over the coming weeks. Each one holds a special place in my heart as it reminds me of precious days gone by. Hope you enjoy them them! Here's the first in the series, written when our first child was still a baby and I was still a new mom:

Bad Day Blues

I had one of those days the other day. You know what I'm talking about. It's the kind that, when you tell your husband about it, you laugh so hard you cry -- except that you really feel like crying. And he jokingly says perhaps he shouldn't leave you alone with the baby -- except there's an underlying hint of sincerity in his voice.

Actually, the day began as uneventful as usual. In fact, I don't even remember what happened that morning. But as the warm spring air drifted in through the opened windows early that afternoon I felt a sense of exhilaration. Something was going to happen today.

It all started with a harmless game of chase with my 15 month-old son. Normally we have gates up to keep him out of non-child-proofed rooms, but occasionally I let down the gates and let him explore the uncharted territories of Mommy's and Daddy's bedroom, the office and bathrooms. On this particular day I had just changed one of those mammoth dirty diapers -- the kind that makes you wish God had only given you four senses. You then rack your brain, asking, "What did I feed him for lunch today?" swearing you'll never give him that again! After this particularly large, unusually pungent poopie, Zachary must have felt some odd sense of elation. He ran from the nursery with that look in his eyes, daring me to catch him. And we were off!

He was around the first curve in a flash and made a beeline for our bedroom at the other end of the hall. I was thinking to myself that I would boost his confidence by giving him a measurable lead when I realized I was running as fast as I could and he was still well ahead of me. Then just as I was marveling at the grace with which he accomplished this feat, he stumbled -- and crashed face-down on the corner of the window sill (this particular window goes to the floor). From the loud CRACK! I thought for certain he had broken something, if not the window sill itself. And from the 5 seconds of silence that followed I knew he was in pain. NOTE: There are always 5 seconds of silence that follow any real injury as he draws in a breath so huge you think he's going to suck the carpet off the floor. The silence is followed, of course, by a wail that rattles the windows and threatens to send the nosy neighbor rushing to call the police.

I picked him up off the floor and tried to console him while I took inventory. Two eyes, still intact. Nose, not bleeding. Teeth, not poking through lips. Gums, not bleeding. Head, no apparent fractures or contusions. ("Emergency" used to be one of my favorite t.v. shows!) By the time I got him back to his changing table to get a better look, however, the shiner had already started to appear. Great! Now the nosy neighbor will know for sure I'm beating him!

After I got Zachary calmed down -- and after the blood rushed back to my head -- I thought for sure that we had filled our quota for the day, but I guess we were a little short on the quota bill.

An hour or so later my spirits lifted however, as I realized nap time was nearing! It's that sacred, holy time of the day when Mommy gets to do anything she wants as long as she can do it without leaving the house and as long as it doesn't make too much noise.

This was the perfect opportunity to relax out on the front porch, enjoy the wonderful warm spring weather and perhaps devote some time to my writing. In preparation, I turned on the baby monitor, opened the window and placed it on the sill outside. Then I pulled the window back down to keep our cats, Psycho and Scooter, from doing some exploring of their own. I grabbed the cordless phone, my notebook and pen, a glass of water and a lawn chair. My pulse was fairly racing in anticipation!

As I opened the front door I noticed a gray tabby on the front porch. "I don't remember seeing a cat like that around here before. . ." I mused to myself. "Gee, that cat looks just like Scooter." Duh! Then it hit me. That cat didn't LOOK like Scooter, it WAS Scooter! Somehow she had managed to slither out from under the opened window where I had placed the monitor. Fortunately for me, her curiosity had been satisfied and she was willing to come back inside. In my relief at catching her so easily I scooped her up and shoved her back under the same window from which she'd escaped. It was only after she was safely back inside that I realized I could have lifted the window a little so she didn't have to flatten out again to get back in . . . .

Relieved that the second -- and hopefully last -- catastrophe was over, I settled into my lawn chair and drew in a deep breath of fresh air. There was a slight breeze blowing and the birds were singing happily. It would have been perfect had Zachary gone right to sleep. But I could tell by his cry he wasn't a happy camper, and not a sleepy one either. I turned the monitor down so the neighbors wouldn't think I was torturing my son -- and so I could enjoy the otherwise beautiful moment.

A few minutes later my friend, Wanda, called. After we'd been on the phone a while, I noticed that Zachary's cry had become more intense. It had a ring of urgency to it. I went inside to check on him, still talking to Wanda. I opened the nursery door to see a familiar sight: Zachary was lying on his stomach with both legs poking out of the crib between the railings. I chuckled a bit as I described the picture to Wanda. After all, this happens quite often. But this time was different. It was warm in his room and his legs had expanded just enough to wedge them between the railings like the proverbial cork in a bottle. I tried to push his legs through the railings. They wouldn't budge. I tried lifting him by his arms. His cries intensified. I tried pulling his legs from the other side. Nothing. By now I was starting to sweat. I had this picture in my mind of having to call 911 . . . "Uh, yes. My son is stuck in his. . .crib. . .?" Then of course they would either laugh and hang up or they would actually come to rescue him. At the moment I didn't know which would be worse.

Then, like a beacon in the night it came to me. Lucy and Ethel. Yes! What would Lucille Ball do in a situation like this? (It seemed a logical question at the time.)

I asked Wanda to hold on as the answer materialized: Vaseline! I located the slimy goo and applied it liberally to his fat little legs. Voila! He was freed, and I didn't have to call 911! Thank you, Lord!

I'd only had enough time to stop shaking and fully regain my composure when my husband drove up. The picture came to mind: a fire truck, an ambulance, bull horns blaring, lights flashing, nosy neighbors gathering nosily around -- and Joel coming home from work right on cue. I had to smile.

To him, this was an ordinary Friday. A day just like any other. No emergencies. No cold sweats. No frantic searches for cuts and bruises. His pulse had probably beat steadily all day without so much as a minor fluctuation . . . . Until he heard the account of my day, anyway!

I began by telling him it had been one of those days; he responded with an urgent demand to know one thing: Was Zachary all right? Again, I had to smile. I assured him he was fine -- except for the black eye.

As I began to fill him in on the details of our afternoon I laughed until I cried and he joked that perhaps he shouldn't leave me alone with the baby . . . .

----------------------------

Copyright © 1996 Mary Comm. All rights reserved worldwide.

Posted by at 01:45 PM | Permalink

I've spent a considerable amount of blog space discussing the topic of abortion lately. The reason for that is very simple: many years ago a good friend of mine came to me in the midst of a crisis pregnancy. She shared her thoughts with me as she vacillated between deciding to have the baby, which would make her a single mom, or choosing instead to abort. Out of fear that my opinions on the subject might damage our relationship, I took the coward's way out. I let her make up her own mind, promising to stand by her whatever she decided.

In the deepest part of my soul I knew abortion ended the thriving life of an unborn child, but instead of defending that child -- and my friend's emotional, physical and spiritual well-being -- I kept quiet.

The result was that my friend chose abortion. She ended the life of her precious unborn child. And by doing so, she unleashed an avalanche of emotions within herself that were quite literally too intense for her to handle. In short, her life has never been the same.

About ten years after this incident, God revealed to me the responsibility I bore for the loss of that tiny life and for the devastation of my friend's life. And my life has never been the same.

As a result, God began taking me on a journey into the world of abortion -- the politics of it, the evil surrounding it, the unrelenting emotional pain it leaves in its wake. He likewise led me to create a web site making the truth of abortion available for those considering abortion and facilitating the healing of Jesus Christ in the lives of those who had been devastated by abortion.

I maintained the site for several years before the Lord led me in another direction, but SafeHaven has continued to thrive under the godly and merciful leadership of my dear friend, Carla.

Abortion will always be a topic close to my heart. And in all honesty I'm not completely certain God's call on my life in this area is not still valid. It is something over which I am in continual prayer.

If you or someone you know is in the midst of a crisis pregnancy or has already had an abortion, SafeHaven is the place to send them. There they will receive non-judgmental acceptance, compassion, truth, and hope whatever their situation may be.

Posted by at 09:00 AM | Permalink

Abortion. It's one of those conceptual words. Most people know what it is in the vaguest sense, but how often do we think about what it really means? I thought I'd do a word study so we could be reminded of its true meaning. Bear with me.

abortion
NOUN: 1a. Termination of pregnancy and expulsion of an embryo or of a fetus that is incapable of survival. b. Any of various procedures that result in such termination and expulsion. Also called induced abortion.

embryo
NOUN: Inflected forms: pl. em·bry·os
1a. An organism in its early stages of development, especially before it has reached a distinctively recognizable form. b. An organism at any time before full development, birth, or hatching.

fetus
NOUN: Inflected forms: pl. fe·tus·es
2. In humans, the unborn young from the end of the eighth week after conception to the moment of birth, as distinguished from the earlier embryo.

*organism
NOUN: 1. An individual form of life
*(Note: The most gifted scientists and most brilliant legal minds -- including those serving on the highest court in this great land of ours -- can't figure out when life begins....Astounding!)

termination
NOUN: 1. The act of terminating or the condition of being terminated.
2a. The end of something in time; the conclusion. b. An end of something in space; a limit or edge.
3. A result; an outcome.

pregnancy
NOUN: Inflected forms: pl. preg·nan·cies
1a. The condition of being pregnant: a test for pregnancy. b. An instance of being pregnant. c. The period during which one is pregnant.

pregnant
ADJECTIVE: 1. Carrying developing offspring within the body.
offspring
NOUN: Inflected forms: pl. offspring
1. The progeny or descendants of a person, animal, or plant considered as a group.
2. A child of particular parentage.
3. A result; a product.

child
NOUN: Inflected forms: pl. chil·dren 1. A person between birth and puberty. 2a. An unborn infant; a fetus. b. An infant; a baby.
3. One who is childish or immature.
4. A son or daughter; an offspring.

So, in plain, ordinary, clear English, abortion is:

Not such a benign, harmless choice, is it...? And a woman has a legal right to do this in our country and around the world.... Amazing.

To find help before choosing abortion or to find nonjudgmental comfort, healing, and confidential encouragement after having an abortion, go to SafeHaven. This peer support site is made up of women who have been there/done that. They know. They understand. And they will tell you the truth.

Posted by at 08:28 AM | Permalink

Here's an interesting story I received via email today. I find it incredibly ironic that a 14-year-old can't have a root canal performed without parental consent, but she can have an abortion even without her parents' knowledge.

British Teen's Secret Abortion Causes Uproar, School Helped Conceal
London, England (LifeNews.com) -- A secret abortion performed on a British teenager without her mother's knowledge has provoked an uproar in England. The girl's mother, Maureen Smith, was outraged when she learned that her daughter's school arranged for the abortion to take place without notifying her. Smith told a British newspaper the school's actions were "deplorable." "I am absolutely outraged that my 14-year-old daughter…was able to have an abortion without my knowledge," Smith said. According to Smith, the abortion left her daughter traumatized and filled with regret. "This is one of the worst things she will go through in her life and I knew nothing about it. I wasn't there to help or protect her," Smith said. "If my daughter had been truant or causing trouble in the classroom I would have been informed. Yet she can go and have an abortion, which will affect her for the rest of her life, and I have no say," Smith added.

To request a daily newsletter from LifeNews, contact Steven Ertelt ertelt@LifeNews.com.

Posted by at 08:18 AM | Permalink

I didn't have to look very far for a description for this category. First Thessalonians 5 immediately came to mind. Here is my own loosely quoted version:

The Kind of Child (of God) I Want to Be

As I read Elisabeth Elliot's devotion a few days ago, I was struck by the things she and her siblings remembered about their mother after she died. As I read them I realized that's the kind of mother I want to be. So I formulated a list from her devotion, typed it up, and now I have it sitting on my desk as a constant reminder of the kind of person I want to be.

The Kind of Mom I Want To Be

As Joel was cleaning out his closet yesterday he ran across two of my old bibles. He gave them to me asking me to put them somewhere else. As I looked through them this morning I realized what precious treasures they are to me.

These two bibles represent the only two bibles my parents ever bought me: the first one given to me at Christmas when I was just six years old. The traditional King James Version, with the traditional black faux leather cover, without a mark in it other than the "presented to" page, speaks in so many ways of what those early years of my Christian training were like. The worn, yellowed pages and the beat-up cover testify to much use, even if the inner markings are absent. (I wouldn't dare write in my bible back then!)

They gave the second bible to me six years later on my birthday. A green, hard-covered Living Bible doesn't contain the traditional "presented to" page, but there is an inscription on the inside cover written and signed by my mother:

Though my mom has lived out her faith before me through her actions all my life, these words represent the beat of her heart--as well as her deepest desire for me: that I would live my life for Christ.

My dad signed his name: Carl Handke. That is so like him! Ever uncertain of how to relate to others' hearts, he opts for the safety of a signature. But even that is okay. I have grown to love and respect my dad for who he is instead of who I may have wanted him to be. (All glory to God for that!)

The Living Bible tells another part of the story. A story of a less traditional Christian training during the turbulent and awkward 70's when our culture was going through it's own adolescence. This bible has more markings in it: passages underlined, verse references listed in the back with "Fantastic Verses..." written alongside them in red ink. There are instructions on how to study the bible and quaint quotes from various sources that spoke to my young heart in those fragile adolescent years. All these are seeds of a godly heritage sown in me through my parents' faithfulness to and love for God, as well as their hopes and desires for me. You see, they knew something way back then that I was only beginning to glimpse: the Word of God is life to us; it is what will get us through the trials and losses and disappointments and fears of this life. And it is what makes the joys all the more richer.

As I hold these two bibles in my hands, it is almost like holding that heritage, for certainly these are the tangible evidences of godly parents who passed on their faith to their child. How grateful I am for these evidences and for the parents who loved God and me enough to equip me with the tools I would need to not only survive this life, but to succeed in the truest sense of the word: by living my life for Jesus Christ, my Savior and Lord.

Not only is that heritage continuing in the lives of their children, but in their grandchildren and their great-grandchildren as well. Lives that have been transformed by faith in God that have likewise been poured out in the lives of countless others. What a godly heritage indeed.

Thanks, Mama and Daddy, for loving Jesus, and for passing that love on to me. I thank God for you!

Posted by at 09:27 AM | Permalink

This one says it all.

(Bookmark by Gary B. Clark.
To order this or other
products of this sort, go to Heritage
House's web site.)

Posted by at 11:02 AM | Permalink

I mentioned a few weeks ago that we were moving our church to the new location at I-35 and 15th Street. We held our third day of Sunday services there this past weekend and it is awesome! The entire facility is beautiful, with lots of room to move around or sit and socialize for a while. And that's exactly what people do after/between services. It's so fun to see so many people hanging around the Gathering Place, the Hillside Cafe, sitting outside at the patio tables, or lounging in one of the many cozy little sofa nooks. It truly has that don't-want-to-leave kind of comfy feeling. I think it must make God smile to see His children enjoying one another's company so much. And isn't that the way it's supposed to be?

(I wanted to show you a photo of the new location, but the link at the site is not working right now.... But check out the new look of the HHBC web site. It's very cool!)

P.S. I heard a story the other day from a reliable source, that there was one member of our church that was so emotionally attached to our old facility he just couldn't leave it. Apparently he is now a Methodist! :-)

Posted by at 04:37 PM | Permalink

It is said that 86% of Americans believe in God. So why is there such a fuss about having "In God We Trust" on our money and the name of God in the Pledge of Allegiance? I think we should make a stand.

If you agree, pass it on.... :-)

Posted by at 03:50 PM | Permalink

Excuse me while I get political for a moment... but isn't war about killing people and breaking things? And hasn't our military always used some forms of torture to extract information from the enemy? I would think they would have to, since the enemy is not going to roll over with a simple "Please...with sugar on top...?"

Now I agree that sodomy and rape is going over the top, and those directly involved should be punished, but--and this is just my two cents worth--shouldn't the military be allowed to do what they have to do in order to protect and defend us? Come on, people! This is war, not the Boy Scouts!

Or, could it be that this is merely a ploy by those who would hinder President Bush in an election year...? I hope (and pray) there are enough Americans who are still independent thinkers that this kind of ploy will be ineffective in the end.

Note: I heard a report on the radio the other day about an Iraqi woman that had been caught having an adulterous affair. She was told she had the choice of being executed or being a suicide bomber "for the sake of her country." She chose to be a suicide bomber. The man with whom she had the affair apparently received no punishment whatsoever. This is the face of our enemy....

Posted by at 10:39 AM | Permalink

I have always had at least one cat for as long as I can remember. Cats are wonderful creatures--if not a little uppity and independent (plusses in some people's category). So I never thought I would be a 'dog lover.' I always gave people who were nuts about their dogs a little bit of an eye-roll. Like, "Puhleez, it's a dog!" But I admit it: Socrates has made me a dog lover. He stole my heart from the first moment I laid eyes on him, and he's continued to wrap me ever tighter around his little paw every day since.

So go ahead. Roll your eyes! I don't care! I love my dog...! He's a great dog, and as cute as cute can be. See!?!

P.S. Our home is cat-free...We are strictly dog people now!

Posted by at 11:17 PM | Permalink

As another Mother's Day approaches, I can't help but think about what a great mom I have. There is so much to say about her, it's hard to know where to begin.....

My mom has always been there for me. When I was growing up, she was the kind of mom that believed her place was in the home, cooking, cleaning the house, washing and ironing our clothes--all that less-than-glamorous stuff that many women of my generation pay to have done. And back in those early days, we didn't have a clothes dryer, so she would hang load after load out on the clothesline in the backyard. Winter, spring, summer, and fall, hot or cold, she would beat a path out to the clothesline to make sure her family had clean clothes to wear.

My mom was more than a housewife though. She helped me study for tests; she helped me with projects I needed to do for school; and every day when I came home from school, there she was, ever faithful to her family.

Growing up, we didn't have a lot of money. We had everything we needed; we never went without the necessities of life. But there was at least one time when my mom sacrificed something she needed--like a new dress for church--because I needed something for school. I have never forgotten that. But that's just the kind of person my mom is.

My mom is never hateful or rude, harsh or uncaring. In fact, I've hardly ever heard a negative word from her regarding other people. On the contrary, she is generous, kind, loving, thoughtful, dependable, hard-working--all those things you want your mom to be. But more than that, she is a mom who prays for her children--and for all those close to her heart. She has been a woman of great faith for at least as long as I've known her. She was always faithful to serve at church (serving in the nursery for over 30 years), to help someone in need, or to give of whatever she had to others. In those ways she has lived out her faith on a daily basis as a model of Christ to me and the rest of our family.

There were a few years in my 20's that I strayed from the Lord, but I know without a doubt that my mother prayed for me--probably every day. She probably still does! I love that about her. She may not have a Ph.D in anything, but she knows where to take the cares of this world. She knows Who holds life and death and everything else in the palm of His hands, and she trusts Him with it all.

Again, what a great model for me to have in this life....

So, for Mother's Day I have to say that I am highly blessed and favored by the Lord to have been given such a sweet mom. I am grateful beyond words for the gift He's given me in my mom. And I am grateful to her for all the ways she has loved me, all the times she has prayed for me, and for all the days I've been privileged to call her my mom.

Posted by at 09:11 PM | Permalink

Isn't the English language fascinating? My husband says I'm a wordsmith... I dunno. Maybe I am.

Whatever the case, I'm feeling torporific this morning. After a busy week of 40th birthday stuff, *surprise* stuff for a couple of friends, teacher appreciation week at my kids' school, along with all the usual commitments, activities, and responsibilities, I'm feeling a bit sluggish and lethargic, bordering on (but not quite) apathetic. I'm sure it will pass in due time. I think I'll just go lie down until that happens.... ;-)

torpor*
SYLLABICATION: tor·por
PRONUNCIATION: tôrpr
NOUN: 1. A state of mental or physical inactivity or insensibility.
2. Lethargy; apathy. See synonyms at lethargy.
3. The dormant, inactive state of a hibernating or estivating animal.
ETYMOLOGY: Latin, from torpre, to be stiff. See ster-1 in Appendix I.
OTHER FORMS: torpo·rific (-p-rfk) —ADJECTIVE

*The American Heritage® Dictionary of the English Language, Fourth Edition

Posted by at 08:46 AM | Permalink

A few years ago I had the privilege of visiting the inside world of post-abortion trauma. Although I've always been decidedly pro-life, I never realized how very complicated the issue of abortion could be. For example, at one point in my life I thought it very neat and tidy to be able to lump all those who would abort their children in the "evil" category. Having taken a walk among them, I have found a plethora of circumstances and situations that add a multitude of shades of gray to that black and white way of thinking.

Don't get me wrong, I still believe life is precious from conception and that only God should decide the fate of an unborn child. Some people would similarly place me in the "close-minded" category for making such a statement. However I have seen the suffering that goes on in the hearts and minds of those who struggle with a "crisis" pregnancy. I have heard stories of young women being forced or coerced into having an abortion by well-meaning or controlling parents, or boyfriends or husbands that didn't want the responsibility of a child. Others have told of being lied to by so-called abortion counselors that insisted it wasn't a child at all, but merely a blob of tissue. Still others have viewed abortion as a mercy killing, sparing the child from being born into an abusive home or an impoverished lifestyle. And yes, there are those that simply don't want their plans for college, career, or fun to be ruined by parenthood. Whatever the impetus for choosing abortion, there are almost always varied degrees of pain, grief, remorse, regret, shame, denial, and/or bitterness resulting from having made the choice to abort.

Having been blessed by such an awareness, my challenge to those who are adamantly pro-life would to be that they too would walk among the post-abortive, to see their hearts up close. Instead of shouting at the 'evil' to go away, try walking alongside these wounded people and listen to their pain.

But my challenge goes even deeper than that.... Pray for and learn to have compassion even for those who are pro-abortion. For what I have also learned is that most (if not all) of those who are pro-abortion have likewise been deeply hurt by abortion -- only they are unable to admit their pain. For to admit that abortion is hurtful would be to admit that abortion is wrong. And to admit that would be to admit that the pain they're trying so desperately to disguise or diffuse through anger, bitterness, and sometimes even deception is legitimate -- and it is overwhelming. This is truly the most dangerous form of denial, for by it others are convinced to join their ranks. The danger is actually twofold: First, for those who find themselves with an unwanted pregnancy and want to believe the blob of tissue theory, that it's a choice, not a child, it is confirmation that abortion is okay. And second, for those who have already aborted and believe it's 'okay', being joined by those who choose abortion is much-needed verification and validation. Together these two groups of women lock arms and harden themselves against the cries of their wounded hearts.

Yes, it is all very complex indeed.

If you are one of those who would take up my challenge to walk among the post-abortive, to see their pain and to have compassion on them, you may begin to do so at SafeHaven, a peer support site designed to facilitate healing in those who have been hurt by abortion, and to educate and inform those considering abortion. But I would be remiss if I didn't also ask that you watch and learn from a distance at first. Realize some of the women who visit this site are in the midst of some of the most intense pain known to mankind, and some are still in the stages of denial. So if you cannot go to SafeHaven with an open mind and heart, a heart willing to offer compassion and forgiveness, then I would ask you not to go--or at least not to participate in the message boards or chat room sessions. The last thing these women need is condemnation. What they need is the hope and compassion that Jesus offered the woman caught in adultery.

One more thought: I was never faced with an unwanted pregnancy, but I always wondered what I would've done had I been. I have talked with too many pro-life post-abortive women to believe that I would've made a better choice than they made. As we see their pain, it is helpful to remember: There but by the grace of God go I. Because until we are in a situation such as theirs, we do not know with certainty what our choice would've been.

Posted by at 10:31 AM | Permalink

My dear sweet husband, Joel, turned 40 today! He has officially climbed the 'hill' and has one foot poised on the slippery slope.

A friend of mine told me, as I turned 40, to "Come on in! The water's fine!" What she didn't tell me was how life has a way of changing after 40. (I won't spoil it for those of you who haven't reached it yet....)

Of course, others swear that 50 is the new 40; apparently 'the hill' has moved--or so they'd like us to believe. Whatever the case, I am happy that my husband has joined me in the decade of the forties now, and we can slide happily down the slippery slope toward 50 together!

I hope you know how much you are loved....

(Oh yeah, and Happy Cinco de Mayo everyone!) ;-)

Posted by at 04:27 PM | Permalink

Our son Zach has been playing piano since he was four or five -- can't remember exactly. And although he's gone through a rough spell or two with it, he has made tremendous progress over the past few years. Last night we attended his piano recital where he performed two songs along with 16 or so of his peers. And he performed beautifully! He's always so nervous beforehand -- who wouldn't be! -- but we prayed about it, talked about it, and he stood up like a pro when it came his turn to play. He spoke clearly and confidently as he introduced himself and the two songs he had chosen to play.

Although everyone makes mistakes during the recital, Zach played almost flawlessly, playing with feeling and gusto! We were so proud of him, and he was pretty pleased as well. We thank God for the love of music He has placed in Zach, and for all the ways He will glorify Himself through Zach's music. That makes the gift all the more precious!

(Go to Joel's blog to see and hear a clip from the recital.)

Posted by at 09:30 AM | Permalink

Last Friday my husband and I attended a friend's change of command ceremony at Tinker Air Force Base in Midwest City. It was quite an experience for us civilians. Our friend, Colonel Marty Edmonds, has been transferred to a position closer to the 'action' in the Middle East, and as such, relinquished his command here in Oklahoma.

The ceremony stirred a mix of emotions in us: patriotism for the greatest country in the world; added respect for our friend in seeing the great respect he receives from his superiors, his peers, and his unit; and a sense of awe at his willingness to serve our country at such high person risk to himself and high cost to his family. (He is set to be stationed overseas for a year.)

To Col. Edmonds and his dear wife, Sandy, I offer my most sincere gratitude for your sacrifice of service and my commitment to stand in the gap through prayer for you and your family during this time of separation. May God watch over you and keep you until you are reunited once again.

Posted by at 09:57 AM | Permalink