It's hard for me to believe that tomorrow will mark two years since my little wiener dog J.R. passed away ... two whole years. Some days, it feels like forever ago that he waddled into my world, and some days, it seems as though it were only yesterday. But every day ... every single day, I miss my little guy.
As I drove home from work this evening, my mind was filled with memories of J.R., and I couldn't help but think about how much my life has changed over the last two years. Some of the changes have been good ones, and some of them ... well, some of them not so much. I've lost a lot of weight, and my blood sugar is under control. My calf muscles like look like chiseled steel from all the miles I've walked on my trail. My understanding and appreciation for my children and their faithful, unconditional love for me has grown a gazillion-fold. I've come to realize that the dearest and best friends are often the ones I didn't expect to be the most loyal and faithful I've ever known. I've experienced the darkness that depression brings, and some days I've struggled against an overwhelming desire to just be done or to run away. My heart has been heavy and saddened, and loneliness has become my constant companion. I was blessed with my amazing, beautiful, genius granddaughter C.J. and have found that the love I have for her is deeper than I could have ever imagined. I recognize more than I ever have before that life is fleeting ... that life is short ... that life is easily missed if I'm not careful.
Two whole years since you left, fat buddy ... two whole years since we said goodbye that Sunday morning ... you wrapped in your favorite blanket, snuggled in my arms, licking my face, letting me know that it was time to let you go ... and me ... me sobbing and telling you over and over and over how very much I loved you, promising to make your journey worth what you did for me. You changed my life, little guy ... you changed my life in a huge way. I hope you're running and jumping and barking in heaven ... and I hope I'll see you again one day.
Tomorrow is World Diabetes Day ... I miss you, J.R. ... I surely do miss you.
Tuesday, November 13, 2012
Monday, November 12, 2012
Take No Prisoners
It's odd to me the memories that have returned to me over the last couple of years, memories of times and events that I thought I had long forgotten or filed away forever. I wonder sometimes why it seems that my brain has shifted into overdrive in the memory department. Now that I think about it, I wonder if my increased brain activity has anything to do with diabetes ... kind of like when the nerves in my feet "woke up" after years of being in a sugar coma
... I wonder if my brain is more capable of remembering things from the
past because it's been waking up as well. I have no idea if there's any
medical or scientific evidence to support my wonderment, but you have to admit that it's an interesting theory.
Those of you who've been reading along with me for a while know that I grew up in the deep South and was raised in the Southern Baptist Church. I spent most of my youth attending a very small church and then a very large church during my college and young adult years. I have tons and tons of memories from both of those churches, some of them involve Mom and Dad, some involve friends or people I went to church with, and some involve events or special services that took place at one or the other of the two churches. Some of the memories are just plain funny, and some are poignant or sad.
I remember like it was yesterday a workday at the small church when my Dad handed me the keys to his old green pickup truck and asked me to go home and get the roast Mom had prepared for the men for lunch. As I lifted the large pot containing the roast over the back rails to transport it to the church, it slipped from my hands and the meat fell out and slid under the Snapper Comet riding lawn mower that sat in the middle of the bed of the truck. My friend Cindy had ridden along with me, and we both watched in horror as the food slowly emerged on the other side of the mower covered with grass and dirt. Knowing that Mom's roast was lunch for the hardworking men who were waiting for us to return, we quickly decided to scoop up the meat, rinse it off with the hose, place it back in the pot and race back to the church. I'm sure our eyes were as big as saucers as the men gobbled down the meat ... they never knew where that roast had been, and it was years before I ever fessed up about what we had done. Oh my goodness ... what in the world were we thinking?
Today I received an email that brought another church memory crashing into my mind ... the memory of a missionary who came to speak at the large church, a missionary who had spent many, many years in prison because he wouldn't stop preaching about the saving grace of Jesus Christ. I vividly recall how frightened I was as the man described how he was tortured and beaten during his time as a prisoner, and I remember thinking that I hoped God never asked me to become a missionary. As I drove home tonight, tears filled my eyes as I thought ... even way back then, Lord, I didn't want to suffer for my faith ... I didn't want You to call me to be brave or courageous ... I didn't want You to ask me to hurt or endure pain or go to prison ... even way back then, Lord, I wanted to have an easy faith, a faith that didn't demand too much sacrifice, too much boldness, too ... much ... faith. Even way back then, Lord ... even way back then.
Pulling into my garage, I rubbed my eyes as I thought about the words from the email ... "Love doesn’t take prisoners and imprison hostages." I went to my basement and found the old, yellowed book written by the missionary. The tears returned as I read his words written so many, many years ago ... "I curled up in the corner on the cold, hard floor and looked at the bars that imprisoned me. Father God spoke to me and said, 'You are free in me, my son, My love takes no prisoners and imprisons no man. Love those who harm you; pray for those who despise you; your redemption rests in Me; my love takes no prisoners.'"
True love ... the love of God and the love we are commanded to have for one another ... that love takes no prisoners and imprisons no man, friends.
"Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres." 1 Corinthians 13:4-7
Those of you who've been reading along with me for a while know that I grew up in the deep South and was raised in the Southern Baptist Church. I spent most of my youth attending a very small church and then a very large church during my college and young adult years. I have tons and tons of memories from both of those churches, some of them involve Mom and Dad, some involve friends or people I went to church with, and some involve events or special services that took place at one or the other of the two churches. Some of the memories are just plain funny, and some are poignant or sad.
I remember like it was yesterday a workday at the small church when my Dad handed me the keys to his old green pickup truck and asked me to go home and get the roast Mom had prepared for the men for lunch. As I lifted the large pot containing the roast over the back rails to transport it to the church, it slipped from my hands and the meat fell out and slid under the Snapper Comet riding lawn mower that sat in the middle of the bed of the truck. My friend Cindy had ridden along with me, and we both watched in horror as the food slowly emerged on the other side of the mower covered with grass and dirt. Knowing that Mom's roast was lunch for the hardworking men who were waiting for us to return, we quickly decided to scoop up the meat, rinse it off with the hose, place it back in the pot and race back to the church. I'm sure our eyes were as big as saucers as the men gobbled down the meat ... they never knew where that roast had been, and it was years before I ever fessed up about what we had done. Oh my goodness ... what in the world were we thinking?
Today I received an email that brought another church memory crashing into my mind ... the memory of a missionary who came to speak at the large church, a missionary who had spent many, many years in prison because he wouldn't stop preaching about the saving grace of Jesus Christ. I vividly recall how frightened I was as the man described how he was tortured and beaten during his time as a prisoner, and I remember thinking that I hoped God never asked me to become a missionary. As I drove home tonight, tears filled my eyes as I thought ... even way back then, Lord, I didn't want to suffer for my faith ... I didn't want You to call me to be brave or courageous ... I didn't want You to ask me to hurt or endure pain or go to prison ... even way back then, Lord, I wanted to have an easy faith, a faith that didn't demand too much sacrifice, too much boldness, too ... much ... faith. Even way back then, Lord ... even way back then.
Pulling into my garage, I rubbed my eyes as I thought about the words from the email ... "Love doesn’t take prisoners and imprison hostages." I went to my basement and found the old, yellowed book written by the missionary. The tears returned as I read his words written so many, many years ago ... "I curled up in the corner on the cold, hard floor and looked at the bars that imprisoned me. Father God spoke to me and said, 'You are free in me, my son, My love takes no prisoners and imprisons no man. Love those who harm you; pray for those who despise you; your redemption rests in Me; my love takes no prisoners.'"
True love ... the love of God and the love we are commanded to have for one another ... that love takes no prisoners and imprisons no man, friends.
"Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres." 1 Corinthians 13:4-7
Saturday, November 10, 2012
Oh, Happy Day
Yesterday, my boss and her husband and their little grandson traveled to Kansas City from Wichita for a special celebration in my honor at work (more on that later), and they took me out to lunch. One, that little boy is so stinking cute, I could just eat him up ... I'm telling you ... stinking, stinking cute. And two, while we were at lunch, I talked about some of the jobs I had down through the years. Jobs like working at a swimming pool store and cleaning rich people's pools in the summer. Jobs like working at a music store in the mall and the owner trying to teach me how to play the guitar (hopeless cause, by the way). Jobs like being a professor of Spanish and English at a college. Jobs like throwing newspapers on the weekends to earn extra money after my divorce. Jobs like ... well ... you get the picture. I've had a lot of jobs in my lifetime, some good, some not so good, and some just plain old terrible.
I've been at my current place of employment for 10 years ... it's hard for me to believe I've been there for 10 years; in many ways, it seems like just a short time since I first walked in the door for my initial interview. At the time, I worked for another advertising agency ... an agency that had recently lost its biggest client and hence had lost a lot of revenue. I could see the handwriting on the wall as I watched round after round of layoffs, and I knew that I had to make a change before a change was made for me. I also knew that I had three children at home to feed and clothe and provide a place to live. After interviewing for a couple of months or so, I had four different job offers to choose from ... two were corporate jobs, and two were back in the advertising field. And honestly, I really struggled with choosing which job to take ... I was skittish about going to work for another ad agency because I was all too aware of how volatile and unstable the advertising world could be, and I had three children who were depending on me. I warred with the decision for a couple of weeks, but I kept coming back to one thing ... the feeling I got when I walked in the building of my current employer. From the minute I set foot in the door, it felt like home. Ten years later, there's not the tiniest shred of doubt in my mind that I made the right choice ... not one tiny shred.
My official 10-year anniversary at work was on October 21, but there's a tradition in our office concerning "big" anniversaries ... 5 years, 10 years, 15 years, and so on. Those anniversaries aren't celebrated on the actual date, but rather they are celebrated randomly after they have occurred. Why? Because there's a surprise party for those milestone years, and if the party happened on the exact date, well, then, it wouldn't be much of a surprise, would it now? So, yesterday morning as we all met in the main conference room for our regular Friday morning meeting, I assumed it was just another Friday staff meeting. And it was, until the end. That's when one of the gals said she wanted to show us one of her daughter's YouTube video picks, which she often does, so again, I assumed that was exactly what she was doing. And guess what? I was very, very wrong.
The video opened with a shot of a door opening, and then I saw the baby bed ... the baby bed that I instantly recognized as C.J.'s, and I said out loud, "Oh, crap." And then the tears came ... lots and lots of tears as I watched C.J. having a tea party with four of her stuffed animals, four of her furry playmates each with a sign in its lap ... signs that read, "Happy 10th Anniversary Granny!" As I watched my precious little granddaughter playing with a silver teapot, I listened to my sweet daughter-in-law as she spoke. "Coraline, are you having tea time? Are you pouring some tea for Bear? Coraline, can you pour some tea for Granny?" C.J. jabbered and smiled and hammed it up big time for the camera. And then ... then Becca panned over to show the iPad set up with a picture me and C.J. together. And as she said, "Can you say happy anniversary to Granny? We're so proud of you, Granny!" C.J. noticed the iPad, smiled and began to crawl toward it. As C.J. got close to the iPad, I heard Becca say, "is that your Granny, Coraline? Is that Granny?" And then ... then ... then ... C.J. pulled up on her knees, reached out and touched my face on the screen ... that baby touched my face on the screen. And yes, I was bawling ... good grief, people, of course I was bawling. Becca then told C.J. to wave bye-bye, and since she's a genius baby (yes, yes, yes she is), she waved bye-bye like a big girl.
Another part of the tradition of celebrating our milestone anniversaries is that we receive a cash award based on our number of years of employment, and another gift that usually has something to do with the person's likes or hobbies or interests outside of work, both of which are paid by the company. As soon as the video ended, some of the gals brought out a huge container filled to overflowing with doggie items ... toys, blankets, treats ... you name it, the tub was literally overflowing with doggie things. One of the gals then said that since everyone knew that I have a heart for dogs who've been abused, folks in the office had given all the items and they were donating them to Safe Harbor Prison Dogs, the organization who rescued my little Oliver. Yeah, if I hadn't already been crying my eyes out, that would have done it for sure. All I can say is ... wow ... just wow, wow, wow. What an amazingly awesomely totally cool thing for my friends at work to do ... wow, wow, wow.
Those of you who read along with me as I chronicle my journey through life in this blog know that the last couple of years have been really tough ones, and the last couple of months have been among the hardest I've ever experienced. Happy days have been rather elusive for me to say the least ... but yesterday ... yesterday was indeed a happy, happy day. Yesterday was a day when I realized how very blessed I am ... blessed to have a wonderful job with a wonderful company, yes, but so much more blessed by the family within it ... family who looks after each other, family who gives from their hearts, family who accepts and supports and loves and encourages and believes and cares. I've said it countless times, and I pray that I continue to have the opportunity to say it again and again ... we're family ... we're family in all the ways that matter most.
Thanks for yesterday, guys ... for the party and the video and the donations ... but most of all, thanks for the love. You sheephaters totally rock!!!
I've been at my current place of employment for 10 years ... it's hard for me to believe I've been there for 10 years; in many ways, it seems like just a short time since I first walked in the door for my initial interview. At the time, I worked for another advertising agency ... an agency that had recently lost its biggest client and hence had lost a lot of revenue. I could see the handwriting on the wall as I watched round after round of layoffs, and I knew that I had to make a change before a change was made for me. I also knew that I had three children at home to feed and clothe and provide a place to live. After interviewing for a couple of months or so, I had four different job offers to choose from ... two were corporate jobs, and two were back in the advertising field. And honestly, I really struggled with choosing which job to take ... I was skittish about going to work for another ad agency because I was all too aware of how volatile and unstable the advertising world could be, and I had three children who were depending on me. I warred with the decision for a couple of weeks, but I kept coming back to one thing ... the feeling I got when I walked in the building of my current employer. From the minute I set foot in the door, it felt like home. Ten years later, there's not the tiniest shred of doubt in my mind that I made the right choice ... not one tiny shred.
My official 10-year anniversary at work was on October 21, but there's a tradition in our office concerning "big" anniversaries ... 5 years, 10 years, 15 years, and so on. Those anniversaries aren't celebrated on the actual date, but rather they are celebrated randomly after they have occurred. Why? Because there's a surprise party for those milestone years, and if the party happened on the exact date, well, then, it wouldn't be much of a surprise, would it now? So, yesterday morning as we all met in the main conference room for our regular Friday morning meeting, I assumed it was just another Friday staff meeting. And it was, until the end. That's when one of the gals said she wanted to show us one of her daughter's YouTube video picks, which she often does, so again, I assumed that was exactly what she was doing. And guess what? I was very, very wrong.
The video opened with a shot of a door opening, and then I saw the baby bed ... the baby bed that I instantly recognized as C.J.'s, and I said out loud, "Oh, crap." And then the tears came ... lots and lots of tears as I watched C.J. having a tea party with four of her stuffed animals, four of her furry playmates each with a sign in its lap ... signs that read, "Happy 10th Anniversary Granny!" As I watched my precious little granddaughter playing with a silver teapot, I listened to my sweet daughter-in-law as she spoke. "Coraline, are you having tea time? Are you pouring some tea for Bear? Coraline, can you pour some tea for Granny?" C.J. jabbered and smiled and hammed it up big time for the camera. And then ... then Becca panned over to show the iPad set up with a picture me and C.J. together. And as she said, "Can you say happy anniversary to Granny? We're so proud of you, Granny!" C.J. noticed the iPad, smiled and began to crawl toward it. As C.J. got close to the iPad, I heard Becca say, "is that your Granny, Coraline? Is that Granny?" And then ... then ... then ... C.J. pulled up on her knees, reached out and touched my face on the screen ... that baby touched my face on the screen. And yes, I was bawling ... good grief, people, of course I was bawling. Becca then told C.J. to wave bye-bye, and since she's a genius baby (yes, yes, yes she is), she waved bye-bye like a big girl.
Another part of the tradition of celebrating our milestone anniversaries is that we receive a cash award based on our number of years of employment, and another gift that usually has something to do with the person's likes or hobbies or interests outside of work, both of which are paid by the company. As soon as the video ended, some of the gals brought out a huge container filled to overflowing with doggie items ... toys, blankets, treats ... you name it, the tub was literally overflowing with doggie things. One of the gals then said that since everyone knew that I have a heart for dogs who've been abused, folks in the office had given all the items and they were donating them to Safe Harbor Prison Dogs, the organization who rescued my little Oliver. Yeah, if I hadn't already been crying my eyes out, that would have done it for sure. All I can say is ... wow ... just wow, wow, wow. What an amazingly awesomely totally cool thing for my friends at work to do ... wow, wow, wow.
Those of you who read along with me as I chronicle my journey through life in this blog know that the last couple of years have been really tough ones, and the last couple of months have been among the hardest I've ever experienced. Happy days have been rather elusive for me to say the least ... but yesterday ... yesterday was indeed a happy, happy day. Yesterday was a day when I realized how very blessed I am ... blessed to have a wonderful job with a wonderful company, yes, but so much more blessed by the family within it ... family who looks after each other, family who gives from their hearts, family who accepts and supports and loves and encourages and believes and cares. I've said it countless times, and I pray that I continue to have the opportunity to say it again and again ... we're family ... we're family in all the ways that matter most.
Thanks for yesterday, guys ... for the party and the video and the donations ... but most of all, thanks for the love. You sheephaters totally rock!!!
Thursday, November 8, 2012
Hooked
I'm not sure how old I was when I became enamored with the story of Peter Pan, but I do know that from the moment I first began reading it, I fell in love with every detail of the tale. I'm also not sure how many different renditions of the story I've seen down through the years, but I do know that I have two favorites ... the high school musical presentation of Peter Pan that my son Brad performed in, and the movie adaptation starring Robin Williams as Peter and Dustin Hoffman as Captain Hook. Brad played a pirate in the musical, a singing and dancing pirate, which struck me as so funny at the time ... my Bradley as a singing and dancing pirate was just funny. The film, aptly named Hook, was filled with amazing scenery and great dialogue, and I remember as if it were yesterday taking Matt, Brad and Meghann to see it at the theater.
I have no idea how many times I've seen the movie since that first time I saw it with my kids, but I do know that I will never tire of watching it. While there are many scenes in the movie that touch me each time I see them, there is one in particular that moved me deeply when I first saw it and continues to move me even now. The Lost Boys don't believe the grown-up Peter Banning, an aging attorney who drinks too much, works too much and spends far too little time with his wife and children, could possibly be Peter Pan. Following a high-speed chase with the Lost Boys trying to catch Peter, there is a poignant scene in which one of the youngest Lost Boys, Pockets, bravely approaches Peter. Pockets walks around Peter and tugs on his arm to get him to kneel in front of him. The little boy removes Peter's glasses and touches and squeezes Peter's face, finally manipulating the man's face into a forced smile. Pockets' eyes widen, he smiles and speaks the line that brings tears to my eyes each time I hear it. He looks deeply into Peter's eyes and says, "Oh, there you are, Peter!" The rest of the scene plays out with Pockets convincing the other Lost Boys to give Peter a chance ... to take a risk and believe that he really is Peter Pan.
I'm sure some of you are wondering if I've finally gone off the deep end, and perhaps I have ... but I think there's a huge lesson in Pockets and Peter Pan. See here's the thing ... when no one else, including Peter himself, believed that he was indeed Pan the Man, Pockets saw what no one else saw. Pockets looked beyond the aging, tired, self-absorbed, workaholic Peter Banning and saw someone he loved ... Pockets looked deep within and saw the Peter Pan he knew, the Peter Pan he respected and admired ... Pockets saw the Peter Pan he loved. Even as I type those words, I can't help but think about the people in my life who have chosen recently to squeeze my face into a forced smile, look deeply into my eyes and say, "Oh, there you are, Terrie!" ... people who see past all the "stuff" and see that I'm still me. I may be a bit battered and bruised, and my clothes may be torn and bloodied, but at the end of the day, for those who care enough to take the time to look deeply into my eyes and say, "Oh, there you are, Terrie!" ... for those folks, they see that I'm still me.
For as grateful as I am for those whose love for me hasn't faltered or wavered or changed or gone away, I'm most grateful for my God ... my God who made me, my God who loves me, my God who sees so far beyond my "stuff" ... my God who looks deeply into my heart and says, "Oh, there you are, Terrie! There you are!"
"For God sees not as man sees, for man looks at the outward appearance, but the LORD looks at the heart.” 1 Samuel 16:7
I have no idea how many times I've seen the movie since that first time I saw it with my kids, but I do know that I will never tire of watching it. While there are many scenes in the movie that touch me each time I see them, there is one in particular that moved me deeply when I first saw it and continues to move me even now. The Lost Boys don't believe the grown-up Peter Banning, an aging attorney who drinks too much, works too much and spends far too little time with his wife and children, could possibly be Peter Pan. Following a high-speed chase with the Lost Boys trying to catch Peter, there is a poignant scene in which one of the youngest Lost Boys, Pockets, bravely approaches Peter. Pockets walks around Peter and tugs on his arm to get him to kneel in front of him. The little boy removes Peter's glasses and touches and squeezes Peter's face, finally manipulating the man's face into a forced smile. Pockets' eyes widen, he smiles and speaks the line that brings tears to my eyes each time I hear it. He looks deeply into Peter's eyes and says, "Oh, there you are, Peter!" The rest of the scene plays out with Pockets convincing the other Lost Boys to give Peter a chance ... to take a risk and believe that he really is Peter Pan.
I'm sure some of you are wondering if I've finally gone off the deep end, and perhaps I have ... but I think there's a huge lesson in Pockets and Peter Pan. See here's the thing ... when no one else, including Peter himself, believed that he was indeed Pan the Man, Pockets saw what no one else saw. Pockets looked beyond the aging, tired, self-absorbed, workaholic Peter Banning and saw someone he loved ... Pockets looked deep within and saw the Peter Pan he knew, the Peter Pan he respected and admired ... Pockets saw the Peter Pan he loved. Even as I type those words, I can't help but think about the people in my life who have chosen recently to squeeze my face into a forced smile, look deeply into my eyes and say, "Oh, there you are, Terrie!" ... people who see past all the "stuff" and see that I'm still me. I may be a bit battered and bruised, and my clothes may be torn and bloodied, but at the end of the day, for those who care enough to take the time to look deeply into my eyes and say, "Oh, there you are, Terrie!" ... for those folks, they see that I'm still me.
For as grateful as I am for those whose love for me hasn't faltered or wavered or changed or gone away, I'm most grateful for my God ... my God who made me, my God who loves me, my God who sees so far beyond my "stuff" ... my God who looks deeply into my heart and says, "Oh, there you are, Terrie! There you are!"
"For God sees not as man sees, for man looks at the outward appearance, but the LORD looks at the heart.” 1 Samuel 16:7
Wednesday, November 7, 2012
The Greatest Good
When my oldest son Matt was in college, he spent a couple of years serving as a youth minister for a small church on the outskirts of the town where he went to school. In addition to his youth ministry responsibilities, occasionally Matt was given the opportunity to deliver the message to the congregation on a Sunday morning. And when Matt preached, I made every effort to make the two-hour trek to Manhattan to hear my son speak. Though I can't remember his subject matter for most of his sermons, I do remember one very special Sunday when Matt talked about how much a person's life could change in a matter of only a few moments. I can't remember all of the examples he used at the beginning of his sermon, but I will never forget the final one ... he talked about the night my mom passed away. My son spoke about how his life forever changed when he answered a call from his brother Brad, a call to let him know that his Granny had slipped away as she napped in her favorite chair. I remember the tears that filled my eyes as my son spoke of Mom, and I remember the tears that filled his own. I remember him looking at me and saying, "Mom, you have to stop crying or I'll never get through this." I remember trying so hard not to cry, and I remember the tears that just would not stop, my son's and my own.
Yesterday at work, a friend and I were talking about some of the events that have taken place in my life over the last couple of months, and we were specifically discussing the meltdown I had the day before I left for my vacation to Tennessee in early September to see my family. She blinked back tears as she said, "What a difference a day makes, huh?" I nodded as my own eyes grew misty as well and I said, "Indeed it does." In fact, if anyone would have told me a few months ago that I would be standing at my friend's desk engaged in the conversation we were having yesterday, I would have adamantly said, "No way, no how will that ever happen." In fact, if anyone would have told me a few months ago that I would have been engaged in most of the conversations I've found myself having recently, I would have shouted from the rooftop, "No way, no how will that ever happen." Obviously, however, as He so often does, God had a completely different plan for me than I possibly could have ever envisioned or imagined. And though many of those conversations have been heart-wrenching, soul-ripping, pride-bursting ones, they have also been conversations that have caused me to open up and let others see and feel the pain that has consumed me for so very long. And in that opening up, I've been blessed time and time again by the unconditional love that has been poured out to me ... unconditional love that I so don't deserve ... unconditional love for which I will be eternally grateful.
I've written previously about one of my favorite television shows, Criminal Minds. I enjoy a ton of things about the program, but I love the opening and closing quotes that accompany each episode. They are at times inspirational, at times thought-provoking and at times even a bit sad and sorrowful, but they are always filled with deep meaning that resonates not only with the plot of each particular storyline but with the story of my own life as well. Tonight after I got home from taking Ollie for a walk, I flipped on the TV and was pleased to see that Criminal Minds was on, albeit already halfway over. I was playing with Julie and not really paying attention to the show until the closing quote of tonight's episode ... it was powerful, and it was one I had never heard before. It was one that resonated with me in a big way ... it resonated with me because I've recently experienced "the greatest good" the quote talks about ... it resonated with me because my family and friends have selflessly concentrated on bestowing "the greatest good" to me.
I'm going to close with the quote ... read it ... think about it ... pray about it ... live it. Another quote I have posted in my cubicle at work says, "Act as if what you do makes a difference. It does." Thank you to those of you who are making a difference to me ... thank you for being "the greatest good" to me. Read it, friends ... think about it ... pray about it ... live it.
"The greatest good you can do for another is not just share your riches, but to reveal to him his own." ---- Benjamin Disraeli
Yesterday at work, a friend and I were talking about some of the events that have taken place in my life over the last couple of months, and we were specifically discussing the meltdown I had the day before I left for my vacation to Tennessee in early September to see my family. She blinked back tears as she said, "What a difference a day makes, huh?" I nodded as my own eyes grew misty as well and I said, "Indeed it does." In fact, if anyone would have told me a few months ago that I would be standing at my friend's desk engaged in the conversation we were having yesterday, I would have adamantly said, "No way, no how will that ever happen." In fact, if anyone would have told me a few months ago that I would have been engaged in most of the conversations I've found myself having recently, I would have shouted from the rooftop, "No way, no how will that ever happen." Obviously, however, as He so often does, God had a completely different plan for me than I possibly could have ever envisioned or imagined. And though many of those conversations have been heart-wrenching, soul-ripping, pride-bursting ones, they have also been conversations that have caused me to open up and let others see and feel the pain that has consumed me for so very long. And in that opening up, I've been blessed time and time again by the unconditional love that has been poured out to me ... unconditional love that I so don't deserve ... unconditional love for which I will be eternally grateful.
I've written previously about one of my favorite television shows, Criminal Minds. I enjoy a ton of things about the program, but I love the opening and closing quotes that accompany each episode. They are at times inspirational, at times thought-provoking and at times even a bit sad and sorrowful, but they are always filled with deep meaning that resonates not only with the plot of each particular storyline but with the story of my own life as well. Tonight after I got home from taking Ollie for a walk, I flipped on the TV and was pleased to see that Criminal Minds was on, albeit already halfway over. I was playing with Julie and not really paying attention to the show until the closing quote of tonight's episode ... it was powerful, and it was one I had never heard before. It was one that resonated with me in a big way ... it resonated with me because I've recently experienced "the greatest good" the quote talks about ... it resonated with me because my family and friends have selflessly concentrated on bestowing "the greatest good" to me.
I'm going to close with the quote ... read it ... think about it ... pray about it ... live it. Another quote I have posted in my cubicle at work says, "Act as if what you do makes a difference. It does." Thank you to those of you who are making a difference to me ... thank you for being "the greatest good" to me. Read it, friends ... think about it ... pray about it ... live it.
"The greatest good you can do for another is not just share your riches, but to reveal to him his own." ---- Benjamin Disraeli
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