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When Your Wednesday Comes on Tuesday

5/21/2014

 
"Let the name of the Lord be praised, both now and forevermore."  Psalm 113:2

"Carpe Diem"



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This is my niece's last week of high school.  Over the past several years, I have taken her to school each Wednesday.  It helped her parents, and we had time in the morning to connect, to talk about her classes, or just to laugh and be silly.

Because of her parents' schedules, I had to take her to school this Tuesday--thinking that the following day--our Wednesday, would be our last.  But my niece finished her exams on Tuesday, and had no reason to return to school the following day.  So our last day became Tuesday, even though I did not know it at the time.

I hadn't really planned anything special--but I was looking forward to our one last Wednesday together:  to connect, to talk, or to laugh. 

I must learn to take my days as they come; to welcome and to enjoy each moment, each hour, and each miracle: even when the Wednesdays come on Tuesdays. 


Surviving Mother's Day

5/12/2014

 
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My Granny held on to me then. I hold on to her memory now.
Some days are harder than others.  For some of my friends and loved ones, this past Mother's Day was part of the difficult journey we call mourning.  

For two of my friends, this was the first Mother's Day they spent without their mothers. For others, it represented a painful reminder of loss. 

I am surprised, stunned even, by the facile and insensitive platitudes that are popular with many:  "She's not suffering anymore."  "She's in a better place."  "You have to keep living."  

We seem prone to ignore the reality of pain, of loss, of suffering.  We want to minimize grief, and thus, to forget our own humanity. 

But I'm taking a stand. I don't believe the hype. 

I've decided to eat when I'm hungry; to drink when I'm thirsty; to rest when I'm tired, and to cry when I'm sad.

I'm human. I'm frail, and some days are just harder than others.


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Friday's Fire: Every Praise

5/9/2014

 
"Every praise is to our God. Every word of worship, in one accord.
Every Praise, every praise, is to our God."
The story sent chills up my spine and tears down my cheeks.  A nine year old
boy was abducted from his front yard—taken by someone who meant him harm. 
...ordered by his captor “not to say anything.”
  ...instead of speaking, the child begins to sing a song he heard in church. 
    . . .  the boy sings. 
      . . .the boy continues to sing.
         . . . he sings for three hours.
            . . . he sings until his captor lets him go, unharmed. 
    When he was interviewed on the
Arsenio Hall Show, Willie Myrick—now  10 years old—said that he never doubted that God would deliver him.   His song was an expression of his young, but strong, faith.
     What songs do we sing when we are held captive by doubt, by fear, by disappointment?  Do we allow those forces that abduct  our joy, our happiness, and our contentment to have their evil way?  Like Willie, we may have to sing our way out of bondage.  
    If so, let us sing, and let us continue to sing for as long as it takes.
Let us give God every praise.
Sing Hallelujah to our God.  Glory hallelujah is to our God. Every praise, every praise, is to our God!
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