J.R. the Lifesaver

If you're a follower of my blog, you know that in early August, I adopted a 3-year-old dachshund named J.R. It's now November, and he is definitely a member of the family. And, he, quite simply, adores me. Almost as much as he adores his older Labrador sister, Julie.

As I've previously mentioned, J.R. sort of stole my heart away with his sad eyes and lonely soul. Little did I know when I opened my heart to that long little wiener dog, that he would be the means that God used to change my life in a major way.

When J.R. came to me, he had a severe problem with his back, and the vet said that part of his recovery would need to be walking every day and losing some of the extra weight that he was carrying. Once his back began to heal, J.R. and I began a daily routine of walking each evening when I got home from work. After about two months of walking, I was having severe pain in my left leg which eventually became so severe that I finally gave in and went to see my doctor. After several rounds of tests, I was diagnosed with type 2 diabetes. To say that my life has drastically changed would be a grand understatement ... medication, new diet, lots of exercise and checking my blood sugar three times each day.

The day that I met with my doctor and she told me the diagnosis, she ended our conversation with these words: "I know that you said that you rescued J.R. and saved him from death. I want you to know that he actually saved your life. You are lucky that you didn't go to sleep one night, slip into a coma and not wake up the next morning. That little dog saved you, Terrie, he saved your life."

God works in such mysterious ways in our lives, and He chose to use a fat little dog to work in mine. I believe that J.R. was meant to be with me, and I believed that from the moment he came into my home. As is so often the case, I had no idea just how big God's plan was ... no idea at all.

So, remember, God can take all things, both big and small, and work them for good in the lives of those who love Him. J.R. has taught me many things over the last four months, not the least of which is a new appreciation for the life God has given me.

Back in Time

A couple of Sundays ago, while visiting my hometown of Chattanooga, Tennessee, I attended the church I grew up in for the first time in over 30 years. As I pulled into the parking lot, a wave of nostalgia washed over me, and as I waited for an old friend to arrive, my mind drifted back to my childhood and teen years. So much of my life at that time revolved around this little Southern Baptist church and the people and personalities that came and went through the years.

Walking into the church with my friend was like stepping back in time ... not much had changed at the church in 30 years. The sanctuary looked basically the same, and my friend took me through the back halls and classrooms where we had sat in Sunday School for so many years. I met the pastor who told me that people often spoke of my dad and the legacy he had left at the church.

I was excited to see people I had not seen for many years, but as the choir filed in, I never expected the emotion that engulfed me. Some of the men that my dad always sat with in the choir still occupied their same spots, and I could just picture Daddy sitting there and I could hear his sweet tenor voice. I could see Mom sitting in her "spot" ... she always sat on the right side of the sanctuary, about halfway up the aisle.

Tears filled my eyes and spilled over my face ... the memories that washed over me were almost too much to bear. After the service, there were more tears, both my own and those from others, as people from my past embraced me and welcomed me and invited me to come back again. Hearing stories about my parents and seeing those friends of Mom and Dad who are now elderly and feeble was humbling and bittersweet.

I left the church that morning touched to the very depth of my soul and so very thankful for the legacy of faith that my parents passed on to me. Their commitment to God and to His church and His people was real and true and lasting. They were amazing people, my mom and dad, and their love continues to bless me even years after their passing.

So, thank you, Mom and Dad, for raising me in church, for teaching me about God and His word, for trusting that I would eventually find my way to Him, and for the countless ways you loved me in spite of myself. And thank you, Alpine Baptist Church, for allowing me to be a part of you once again on a rainy Sunday in November.

Sweet Sisters

Over the last couple of months, I have had the great honor to speak for several different groups of ladies at various events. While I always pray that God will provide me with the words He would have me share that will meet the needs of the women present, I quite often come away from these gatherings feeling as though I am the one who receives the greatest blessing.

The way God works in the hearts and lives of those who love and serve Him never ceases to amaze me. Women often feel a strong connection with the guest speaker at a retreat or conference, and as such, I have heard a multitude of stories from the women God has called me to minister to ... stories of salvation, of joy, of pain, of sorrow. So many lives that have been touched by the Master's hand; so many lives that are in desperate need of His healing power.

All of those women, each and every one of them, have left a mark on me ... whether it be sharing laughter or tears ... they have all had an impact on me. Gals who are now a part of me, a part of my heart, a part of my soul ... Kathy, Vicki, Charlene, Elaine, Angi, Karen, Doris, Kari, Susan, Stephanie, Pat, Cindy, Becky ... and so many more true blessings in my life.

The older I become, the more I find myself contemplating what heaven will be like one day. I like to believe that will recognize on some level those who meant so much to us during our time on earth. If that turns out to be the case, I can't wait for the reunion that will happen one day with all my sweet sisters in the Lord!

Dancing in the Moonlight

As I mentioned in my previous post, I recently adopted a foster dog named J.R. And as previously mentioned, J.R. is a bit on the plump side, so we've been walking every evening. Many nights, we pass the same folks out for their evening stroll as well, and there are the cursory nods and hellos. A few nights ago, however, I saw some folks I had never seen before.

As J.R. and I crossed over the second bridge on our path, we came upon a young father, his daughter and their tiny puppy. I nodded as I passed them, hurrying along on my designated path. Something caused J.R. to hesitate, and as I turned to urge him forward, I heard the little girl say, "Daddy, let's dance!" I watched as this young father stopped in his tracks, scooped his little princess into his arms and began to twirl with her right there on the walking path. And then the little girl said, "Daddy, Daddy, pick up Lucy, too. She wants to dance with us!" I realized that tears were forming in my eyes as I watched this strong young father reach down and tenderly lift the little puppy into his arms along with his daughter. He began to sing and twirl and dance while the little girl laughed and squealed and the little puppy licked and wagged her tail.

I'm not sure how long I stood there watching the scene, but when I finally turned to continue walking, my heart was filled with joy at the unashamed display of love I had just witnessed. I couldn't help but think of how much God our heavenly Father loves us and wants to scoop us up into His arms for a lifetime of dancing.

Since all of my children are now out on their own, my canine companions are in some ways like children to me. So it seemed only fitting as J.R. and I got close to home near the end of our walk, I leaned over and ... yep, you guessed it ... I scooped that fat little dog into my arms and I danced.

Rescue Me

A few months ago, my son and daughter-in-law became foster parents ... not for children, mind you, but for dachshunds. Yes, that's right, foster parents for doggies. They have had several furry friends pass through their lives, each one of them gaining a special place in their hearts and their home. Andy, their little dog, loves having new friends come, and he has gotten so attached to a couple of the fosters that he is a sad puppy when they move on to their "furever" homes.

Three weeks ago, Matt and Becca were going out of town for a weekend to celebrate Matt's birthday, and they asked if I would keep Andy while they were away. Andy always stays with me when they travel ... he loves his "Grandma Terrie," and he loves playing with my lab, Julie. This particular weekend, Matt and Becca had just gotten another foster dog named J.R. He had lived a hard three years, being born into a puppy mill and suffering a great deal of abuse. He was afraid of everything and everyone, which was understandable given his background.

When Matt asked if they could bring J.R. to me as well, I was less than excited about keeping a strange dog, especially one who had some significant trust issues. As I always do, I caved in and agreed to keep both of the hounds for the weekend.

Within a few short hours, J.R. decided that I was the greatest person on earth and deserved an exorbitant amount of love and affection from him, needed to have my every step mirrored by him, and most certainly would cherish having a fat little dog sleep cuddled next to me at night. In short, this dog worshipped and adored me.

By Saturday morning, his devotion to me was apparent as he gazed at me with his sad eyes that alluded to a much older spirit than his years would dictate. There was no playful puppy in this boy; he was sad ... sadder than any dog I've ever seen. I told myself over and over that the last thing I needed was another dog to care for; after all, I travel a great deal speaking to women's groups. And I have a big dog already. And dogs cost a lot. And he's fat and will need special food and to be walked every day. No playing Frisbee in the backyard to get his exercise like Julie does. Nope, I certainly don't need a dog, not to mention a high-maintenance one at that.

By the time Sunday arrived, I found myself calling Matt and Becca to ask what I needed to do to keep J.R. I simply couldn't bear the thought of him going anywhere where he might be abused again. And did I mention that he adores me? So when Matt and Becca came to pick up Andy, J.R. stayed with me and Julie. He found his "furever" home and completely stole my heart.

When I mentioned to Matt that I didn't understand why this dog had touched my heart the way he had, Matt wisely reminded me that I know what abuse feels like and thus felt J.R.'s pain and suffering. Smart kid, that son of mine. So now I'm walking two miles a day with Julie and J.R. Julie has the time of her life on the walking path, dragging me along like a fish on a line. J.R. manages to keep up with her and loves our walks each day. And me? Well, I've lost several pounds in the last three weeks, which is a bonus for me.

I am thankful that God in His infinite wisdom created animals for us as humans to love and care for. You see, I thought I was rescuing J.R., but it turns out that he's rescuing me right back.

Long Time, No Blog

I've discovered as I've aged that there are seasons in life ... at times, life blossoms like flowers in spring, grows like grass after summer showers, sheds unwanted items like leaves in the fall, or hibernates like bears on a cold winter's night.

Recently, I've experienced a new season in life by entering into the empty nest phase of parenting. My youngest child, my baby girl, moved into her own apartment, leaving my home to me and the dogs. It's been an adjustment after being a single parent for 14 years; the house is quiet, save the barking of the hounds. No music coming from the rooms upstairs, no televisions playing through the night, no one entering my room late at night to tell me about their day.

To say that I haven't had some sad days since my sons and daughter moved would be far from the truth. In fact, as they each made their way into the world to begin their adult lives, I've cried buckets as each one left the nest. But, it is the way God intended for things to be ... as parents, we raise our children to learn, to live, and to leave.

While I miss them, and the house feels lonely at times, I am learning to appreciate the good side to having the house to myself. I drink straight from the orange juice container without having to dirty a glass. I go for a walk every evening and meditate on the goodness of my Lord and the blessings He has graciously poured out upon me. I rarely turn on the television and have read several books instead.

I'm learning and I'm living ... by myself. And if I need someone to talk to other than the dogs, I've got a cell phone with friends and family as close as a call.

Everlasting Love

Yesterday, I spent most of the afternoon shooting photos for a 50th wedding anniversary party. I met the family a couple of hours before the party began so that I could take family photos for them. It was a beautiful Kansas day, and this was one photo shoot that was much more fun than work for me.

I've know Pat and Virdus for many years, and I've always been impressed by them both as a couple and as parents to their four sons. Their family has grown to include daughter-in-laws and grandchildren, and it is easy to see that their love has grown to encompass their enlarging family. I was struck yesterday by the way they all related to one another with respect, humor and love. I also couldn't help but notice that Pat and Virdus are quite obviously still deeply in love with one another. Several times during the afternoon, I saw them holding hands and exchanging smiles, and when I requested a "smooching" shot for the camera, they laughed and readily agreed!

As I drove home after the party, I found myself smiling and filled with joy at having been invited to be part of this wonderful couple's very special day. Fifty years of marriage is something to be proud of in a world where the divorce rate has topped fifty percent. To see a couple so committed to one another and to their family is truly a blessing not only to me, but to all who know them.

So, congratulations, Pat and Virdus, and thank you both for all the ways you touched my heart yesterday. Happy 50th, and here's to many more years together for the two of you!

Surprise Inspiration

Sometimes inspiration comes when I least expect it or when I'm not looking for it. It announces its presence in an unassuming way, giving me pause to consider what is and is not important in my life. It can come in the form of a hug from a little girl named Ellie on a Sunday morning at church whose eyes light up when she sees me and runs into my arms. It can come in the form of the wagging tail of my faithful dog as she greets me when I return home after a long, hard day at work. It can come in the form of reading a page-turner book that gives me escape from my daily routine and transports me to another time and place. Or it can come, as it did in the last few weeks, in the form of a 48-year-old woman who became an overnight YouTube sensation.

The first time I viewed Susan Boyle singing "I Dreamed a Dream" on the talent show Britain's Got Talent, I cried like a baby. In fact, I've watched that video over and over, and each time, tears well up in my eyes as her beautiful voice touches my soul. But it's more than Susan's voice that brings inspiration to me, so much more. It is the story of her life ... deemed "learning disabled" as a child and subsequently teased as she grew up; taking care of her elderly, ailing mother for many years while sacrificing her own dreams and desires; never marrying, now living alone with her cat, Pebbles. Her appearance, her humble life, her unassuming manner all contribute to build my admiration for the courage and inner strength that she obviously possesses.

It was Susan's attempt to fulfill a promise she made to her dying mother to "make something of herself" that spurred her to audition for the talent show, and the rest, as they say, is history. The judges, the people in the audience, and those of us who watched the video thought that Susan was a joke and that her performance would be a train wreck. And then ... she smiled, opened her mouth, and sang.

Susan came in second in the competition, but by all accounts, her life will never be the same. She will have a recording contract, and she will sell millions of CDs. She will get a book deal, and someone will make a movie of her life. The meager success she hoped for when she auditioned will pale in comparison to what is coming her way. I hope that Susan realizes that her voice is wonderful, beautiful, and inspirational. But what I truly hope that Susan knows and embraces is that it is her ... her life, her inner spirit, her courage ... that has brought inspiration to millions of people around the world.

So, Susan, from this 49-year-old single gal who needed an extra kick to follow her own dreams ... thank you, thank you, thank you for sharing you with me!

Reconnecting

My daughter recently told me that the "old" people like me have taken over Facebook from the younger generation. I don't know how I feel about called old at a youthful 49 years old, but I will admit and embrace the fact that I do enjoy Facebook immensely.

It brings a smile to my face each time I get a friend request, but I feel an extra joy when that request is from someone whom I haven't seen or talked to for many years. Reconnecting and catching up with friends from my high school and college years is just plain old fun. Well, most of the time. There is a sadness in hearing about marriages that have dissolved or spouses lost through death or friends who have passed on or are sick or have lost their jobs. But for the most part, connecting with old friends brings an undeniable joy to my heart.

I've often wondered if we will recognize one another in heaven, and I don't have an answer to that age-old question. I would like to believe that we will, and the joy of reunions here on earth will pale in comparison, I'm sure. I can only imagine the emotion I will feel when I see my mom and dad again or my brother Jerry or my grandparents.

So here's to Facebook and to reconnecting and reminiscing and remembering. And here's to what will come one day ... I can only imagine indeed.

Faithful Friends

I've been blessed through the years with a multitude of friends. Some of those have been friends for many years, and some have been more recently added to my quiver of blessings. Some have been friends during times of grief; some during times of great happiness or success; and some have gone the distance through every event of my life.

For this post, I want to focus on one particular friend who is very special to me. Her name is Debbie, and we've know each other for almost 20 years. I met Debbie when we moved to Kansas City while attending a women's Bible study at the church I currently attend. We felt an instant kinship, since we are both Midwest transplants who are very much still Southern girls at heart. Our sons are the same age, so we also bonded on a "mom" level, too.

We've been through a lot together, Debbie and I, and as I sat next to her in church this morning, I realized how blessed I am to count her among my closet friends. She has a heart of gold and derives tremendous joy through giving to others. There are too many times when Debbie has selflessly given to me to even begin to list them all. One in particular, however, I will never forget. When I had to pack my mother's possessions after she passed, Debbie was the friend who met me at Mom's and helped me through that task. When I would get choked up, it was Debbie who would recall something humorous about Mom and make me smile. I will never forget that day, and I will never forget Debbie's selfless love as she helped me make it through.

So many times, we take our friends for granted, and we forget that they are truly gifts from God. So, thank you, Debbie, for all that you mean to me and the way you make me smile. And, thank you, God, for blessing me with one of the best friends a Southern gal could ever ask for!

The Best Medicine

Sometimes I wake myself up laughing from a dream I am having. Sometimes those dreams are, quite simply, hilarious. Recently, I had to leave work and come home because I was sick with a stomach bug that my daughter generously shared with me. Upon arriving home, I immediately took some medicine and went straight to bed. Accompanied by Julie and Peanut, the resident hounds of my house, I settled in for a deep and cozy "sick" sleep.

Several hours later, my daughter arrived home from work and came into my room to check on me. When she walked into my room, she could hear me laughing out loud. As I awakened to her asking, "Mom, what are you laughing about?" I realized that I was in the midst of a quite hysterical dream involving my son, Brad. Fighting to control my laughter, I managed to gasp out the answer to her question.

"I was dreaming," I said. "I was dreaming that Brad was dating an Oompa Loompa from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory." And I then proceeded to guffaw in a most unstoppable manner. I promptly slipped back into the land of dreams and after only a few short minutes of sleep, woke myself up laughing once again at the sight of Brad and his Oompa Loompa date.

A dream such as this always causes me to wonder how and why my mind conjures up such images while I sleep. Brad has been dating a lovely young woman for over a year, and she in no way, shape, form or fashion resembles an Oompa Loompa. And I haven't watched Charlie and the Chocolate Factory in quite a long time. It sure makes me wonder if I should ever take that type of medication again! When I finally woke up and got out of bed, I felt miraculously better. No rolling stomach, no tiredness, no headache.

I've often heard it said that laughter is the best medicine, and in my case, I believe this to be true. In fact, perhaps my Oompa Loompa dream entered my sleeping mind for that very reason ... to make me feel better and to be medicine for my ailing body.

I'm glad that I serve a God who sees fit to bestow upon us humans the gifts of humor and laughter and fun. So, laugh it up, whether you're awake or asleep, and breathe a thank you to the God of the universe Who may just be laughing along with you!

Who's In Charge?

According to the calendar, it is spring. You know, the time of year when flowers bloom and warmer temperatures arrive. And yet, yesterday, here in the Land of Oz, it snowed. In fact, it snowed a lot. While we saw four to six inches around Kansas City, some parts of Kansas received more than 20 inches of snow. And the weather guys here in KC are saying we may see snow a couple of times again next week.

When I first moved to Kansas City, I loved the snow. I grew up in southern Tennessee where snow was a rarity, and when it did snow (or even flurry, for that matter), the entire city would shut down. Being a stay-at-home for those first years after moving to the Midwest allowed me to continue my "don't leave the house when it snows" Tennessee upbringing. I would go to the grocery store and stock up on all the essentials just in case we were trapped at home for weeks. I would cook and build a fire in the fireplace and play with my children and enjoy the wintry weather.

Now, as a single gal with grown children, I am not as fond of the snow as I once was. I dread the days when I have to drive in to work with snow or freezing rain falling from a gray sky. My 50-mile round trip becomes a treacherous and slow trek when winter decides to make its snowy announcement. And when that announcement comes when the calendar says it should be spring, I am not a happy camper, not in the least.

As I watched the snow fall yesterday, and yes, it was beautiful with large fluffy flakes, I couldn't help but think that the calendar is not in charge when it comes to weather and timing. Weathermen can predict and anticipate and plan and try to gauge the various types of weather-related events, but it is the God of the universe Who is ultimately in control of not only the weather, but, well, the universe and all it contains.

Pondering God's control of the skies and all the universe gave me pause and caused me to give thanks for His sovereign power, not only of the great wonders in this world but also of the smallest details of my own life. Each of us goes through different seasons in life ... some short and some long, some easy and some hard, some joyful and some filled with sorrow. How thankful I am that God is in control of every season, every change, every event in my life.

So when it snows in spring or is warm in winter, look up and give thanks ... thanks to the Ruler of all things.

Friendship Shopping

So what was your first thought when you read the title of this blog entry? "Oh, poor gal, she's looking for a friend." Or maybe, "Is she fed up with her current friends and ready to search for new ones?" Or even, "Man, she's got nerve to announce that she's shopping for friends!" Quite the opposite, actually.

Last Friday, I had to stop on my way home from work and purchase office supplies for my company at Sam's Warehouse. I needed to go two weeks ago, and I had managed to put it off. You see, I really dislike shopping, even when I'm spending someone else's money (as is the case when I purchase items for work). I seriously would order everything online that I need if I could and have it delivered to my front door. So, stopping on a Friday evening and shopping with the other thousands of people who were present is a true testament to my willingness to go the extra mile for my job.

As I was wandering up and down the aisles trying to find the things I needed to purchase, I became more and more frustrated with each passing minute. Too many people, too many items I couldn't find, too many reasons to run for home. And then, in an instant, everything changed. As I stood gazing at the aluminum foil, a sweet Southern accent filled the air. A voice that made me feel at home, comfortable and loved. I turned my head and saw my former neighbors, Cindy and Perry, and as always happens when I see them, my heart filled with warmth and happiness. They are Kansas City transplants like me, being born and raised in Arkansas.

I truly believe that Cindy and Perry are two of the finest people to walk this earth, and I've always considered myself immensely blessed that God placed them in my life. They stood behind me through my long and difficult divorce, and they were there for my children and me in the years that followed. They helped me in ways that I'm sure they aren't even aware of, from Perry teaching Matt to shave to Cindy watching my children so that I could get out of the house for a much-needed break. As my Daddy used to say, "They are just good people, salt of the earth, they are."

Calling out, "Hey!" as all true Southerners know is the only real form of acceptable greeting, we hugged and began to talk. As we stood and chatted about Perry's recent retirement, our children, their grandchildren, my book, gardening, work and all sorts of other things, I found myself happy and thankful for this divine appointment right in the middle of Sam's. My recent fuming and fussing about shopping and how much I disliked the experience turned into a time of laughter and love and friendship.

I hope I learned a lesson last Friday ... that joy in life can come in the most unexpected places if I'm willing to look for it. It doesn't have to be some spectacular event or production that imparts that joy; it can be a chance encounter in front of the aluminum foil at Sam's. It really can.

And So It Goes

Every day, we hear about events that are occurring in our country or around the world. It's one thing to learn about the state of the economy, job losses and home foreclosures through the Internet, television or newspaper, but it's another thing altogether when you watch close friends and family lose their jobs and homes, and face trying to find employment with the economy in such a critical condition.

Last week, the company where I work had to make the hard decision to eliminate several positions. While I understand the need to make adjustments to accommodate the changing business climate, I couldn't hold back the tears as I watched coworkers whom I love and care about packing up their personal belongings and walking to their cars. In the blink of an eye, their worlds had been turned upside down and their lives changed in a drastic way.

Over the last week, several of those friends have contacted me to ask for my help on writing or editing their resumes. As I spoke with them and searched for the words of comfort, hope and support that they desperately need at this time in their lives, I felt as though anything I might say was shallow and meaningless. I still have my job; I can still pay my mortgage on my home; I can still buy groceries without fearing that someday soon I may not be able to do so.

The general prayers that I have offered up over the last months for those caught in the economic crisis have suddenly changed. They are personal prayers now, prayers for close friends, for those whom I love. As I prayed yesterday for these friends, something struck me. God calls me to a personal faith, to a faith that gets involved, to a faith that is willing to put everything I am and have on the line. God wants me to live out a dangerous faith and to love with a crazy love.

As I see people losing the "things" in their lives, I'm reminded of Peter who left everything he owned, gave up all he had, to follow Jesus. As the world around us is spiraling downward, perhaps God is calling those of us who believe in Him to be willing to sacrifice all in order to help those who are in need. It's a time to pull together, to live out our faith in a dangerous way, to love in a crazy manner, to follow wherever He may lead.

God bless you and keep you close in His loving hands, and may He light a fire of compassion in the hearts of those who call Him Lord.

Losing Myself

Many weekends, I travel to various locations to speak at women's retreats after working a full-time job during the regular work week. I truly enjoy these weekend events and know that being a speaker, a vessel for God to use, is my true calling in life. My regular job is one that pays the bills and one that I enjoy, but there's a difference between a job and a calling.

While I love traveling and sharing with other sisters in the Lord, I also love the weekends when I am home, caught up on all of my household chores and can just relax. Sometimes I read a book, spend time writing or simply watch a movie or two. There is nothing like losing myself in a good story or movie, allowing my mind to become a part of what I am reading or watching.

This has been one such weekend, and I was pleasantly surprised to find one of my favorite movies on television last night. I never tire of watching the film, Dances With Wolves, even though I am able to quote a great deal of the dialogue before it is spoken. Each time I watch the film, I always get lost in the story of boundaries being broken, of love, of acceptance, of family and friendship.

I think I would do well to live such a simple life, a life unencumbered by the trappings that the world teaches are so important for success today. I think I would do well to let God lead my every step and not the influences that surround me each day. I think I would do well to love my family with a pure and faithful love, one that would lay down my very life for them. I think I would do well to treasure my friends and to value the gift of their friendship in a true and honorable way.

Near the close of Dances With Wolves, as Kevin Costner prepares to leave the village, he and Kicking Bird say their goodbyes with these words. "We come far, you and me. I will not forget you." Those words, as they always do after watching the movie, will roll around in my mind for several days as I think of the goodbyes I've said to friends through the years.

So, here's to quiet weekends at home, to good movies and old friends, and to the times when I can slow down and lose myself for a little while. And one more thing ... here's to popcorn, one of God's greatest gifts!

Billy Goats and Tomatoes

For many years, I've thought that I would like to live in Alaska or Colorado when I retire. I just celebrated my 49th birthday on December 26th, and I've changed my mind about where I want to spend my golden years.

Winters in Kansas are often a mixed bag when it comes to weather, and this winter has been no exception. One week in early December, we had snow, freezing rain and temperatures in the 60s all within the course of 36 hours. Believe it or not, that kind of wild swing in the weather is not an unusual occurrence here, but after 19 years of living on the plains, I find that the drastic weather changes have begun to affect me more as I grow older.

Climbing out of my warm bed on a cold and snowy morning means aches and pains in my muscles and bones, and the thought of spending hours in traffic on my morning commute is not a pleasant thought at all. I find myself wishing to live in a spot that is 80 degrees year-round, perhaps near an ocean with mountains in the background.

I remember my dad talking about heaven as he aged, often mentioning that heaven for him would be a farm with ripening tomatoes and perhaps a couple of billy goats grazing on lush green grass. He never spoke of having a mansion in heaven, just a little log cabin on a few acres of land. I didn't understand when I was young why Daddy didn't dream of a large crown filled with various jewels or of a mansion built of gold, but as I have grown older, I completely understand his view of heaven. Though he had one of the truest hearts of service I've ever seen, he never wanted the "finer" things in life. He lived simply, loved tremendously and served tirelessly. He understood that things never bring happiness, but that God and his fellow man provided real and lasting contentment.

So, as the weather folks are forecasting another snowy morning, my prayer is that God would grant me a heart like Daddy had ... a heart of love, a heart of service and a heart of contentment. And maybe, just maybe, a couple of billy goats and a few tomatoes when I get to heaven.