My Alabaster Box

Tender Heart in My Box

2011-03-27T19:16:00.000-07:00

The golden retriever bounded from the car one warm afternoon. She ran around the large front yard, barking wildly. "Welcome Home, Bella!" the kids yelled. Bella barked and checked out her new yard and home.

Bella made a fast home with the Brown family: Katie, Mark, Kody, and Mason. But in large part, she was Katie's dog; he slept beside her bed and greeted her each afternoon after work. She laid at Katie's feet watching TV--in short, she loved Katie. Mason was little when Bella joined the family. She treated him with care and patience when, as a toddler, he pulled on her hair and tail. She slowly turned her head as if to say, "It's okay, baby. I know you're just playing."

Bella recently developed hip problems and walking became difficult and painful. Katie and Mark were faced with a hard decision: spend thousands on multiple surgeries or hope the Humane Society could find a golden retriever shelter that would take her in. The end result could be what they didn't want: having Bella put down.

Sweet Bella could not voice her love for her family, but she was always a tail wag away from loving them home. She greeted them enthusiastically until her last days when her back side didn't wag well. She continued to sleep beside Katie's bed...her protector...even though she probably couldn't have done much protecting. It was the thought that mattered.

I applaud my daughter for the gut-wrenching decision. She weighed the family's resources and made the decision that ripped her heart out. Katie sobbed on the drive to the vet and then to the Humane Society, knowing the inevitable would happen sooner or later.

I'm proud of the love she lavished on Sweet Bella. Owning a dog provided life lessons for Kody and Mason: commitment, loyalty, responsibility, and love. Katie exemplified each of those characteristics for her sons while caring for Bella.

You are a wonderful daughter, mother, and wife, sweet Katie. You love deep and, often, hurt deep. That's the cost of a tender heart.

I love you, Katie Bird.

Celebration in My Box

2011-02-20T12:58:00.000-08:00

Today is a special day for several reasons: my daughter Caron, her husband Cory, and son Caleb are here visiting for the weekend; we are celebrating my March 3rd birthday, and I am eating birthday cake this year.

Last year my girls prepared a scrumptious birthday dinner, complete with red velvet cheesecake. I didn't eat the dessert because of an earlier commitment to abstain from processed sugar until my son Josh was clean and sober for a year. That achievement was accomplished on February 18th! This was the best birthday cake I've ever eaten.

Another cause for celebration is that Caron and Cory announced they are having a baby in September! Another grandchild. Since we have four grandsons, a pink bundle would be wonderful; but we will certainly love a blue one. Caleb wants a little brother. The primary desire is for the baby to be healthy. Having another boy could be viewed as God's way of keeping me out of bankruptcy. Those little pink outfits are soooooo cute!

During 2009 my emotions ran from the depths of despair with Josh's addiction to the mountaintop of jubilation with Caron and Cory's engagement announcement. There were so many highs and lows as I met most days with fear and trepidation. The new year of 2010 brought the promise of new beginnings; the year was filled with victories and triumphs. Josh went into treatment in February, and we had a wedding in June. The year was filled with watching God's mighty Hand sustain our family and guide us on our journey. I had a front-row seat to watch Jeremiah 30 and 31 come to fruition.

As 2011 unfolds, I am rejoicing at God's faithfulness. I am thankful for another day--and year of life--to see what great things He has in store for me individually and our family in the year at hand.

Yes, today is a blessed day of celebration. "This is the day the Lord has made, I will rejoice and be glad in it."

Someone's Son in My Box

2011-01-26T16:25:00.000-08:00

Brenda Rhodes' son could be my son. I found myself aching with her as Ronal Paul's story was told. My son is a recovering addict and with each stumble and fall she recounted, I knew how she felt.

Brenda successfully painted the picture of living and loving someone with an addiction. It is not an easy road, but the mountaintop experiences buoy the hope that perhaps "this time" will be the one; this will be the time when they "get it." Then, hope is dashed when a relapse occurs, and the climb out starts again.

I wept as she described her son's last days. I felt her heart breaking, but I also caught her inexhaustible sense of hope. Without hope, living with an addicted loved one is draining. Brenda carefully crafted the hope she found in the Lord and His Word into her story.

The gritty details of Ronal Paul's misbehaviors were tactfully kept private. She gave enough description about what he did to allow the reader insight into their nightmare. I admire how she respected her son's privacy and honored his memory by not divulging every sordid thing he did.

The book will encourage and offer hope to families and friends of loved ones suffering with an addiction or other life-controlling issues. She showed the importance of family and how, even when we don't agree with a family member's behaviors and lifestyle choices, that they are loved and respected. Many times it is the knowledge that the family still cares that sustains an addict through dark and trying times.

The last page was the most poignant to me. Its message is to not judge the homeless, the addict, the prostitute, the person who is different from us...they are someone's son or daughter.

A complimentary review copy was provided.

Sun Stand Still

2010-12-19T19:31:00.000-08:00

Sun Stand Still sounds like a big-screen movie title. Imagine the opening scene: A lone preacher lifts his hands and face heavenward, entreating God to rain down blessings on the land. The wind is blowing, lightening is cracking, and rain is pouring out like faucets. The preacher asks for health, wealth, and favor...the usual petitions. A lot of drama for mundane prayers. But, what happens if God's expertise connects with the preacher's ordinary petitions? That is the stuff of miracles; the stuff of Sun Stand Still prayers.

The book is built around the prayer in Joshua 10 when Israel's leader prayed for God to make the sun stand still an extra 24 hours. Joshua knew that some of the enemy might escape, so he asked for those additional hours to make sure the job was completed. As Furtick points out, the sun shines every day, but only God can make it shine a full extra day. The premise of Furtick's work is learning to operate with audacious faith. As believers in God Almighty, we need to approach the throne of grace with respectful audacity born out of the knowledge that we serve a powerful God who is able to do the impossible.

The book carefully plots what is required to position onself to pray an audacious prayer. Chapter 19, Ten Guidelines for a Sun Stand Still prayer, summarizes the book into easy-t0-understand and remember principles or concepts. Admittedly Furtick didn't want to reduce the book to a list of ten ways to pray, but it was the best way to tie the book together into a neat conclusion.

At the end of the book Furtick says, "When you begin to activate your faith and pray Sun Stand Still prayers, you're doing more than just changing your life. You're placing yourself in the middle of a move of God." The challenge for the reader is to step into the movement and believe with audacious faith that will do what He says He will do.

I highly recommend this book and look forward to reading more of Steven Furtick.

The publisher provided a complimentary copy of the book as part of the review process.

Katie Bird in My Box

2010-11-02T17:40:00.000-07:00

I can't believe my baby girl is 30 years old. Where in the world has the time gone?

I remember the dream I had one night. I raised my head from the pillow and saw a baldheaded baby with a pink bow on her head. She brought a chubby little hand to her cheek and waved at me. Then she was gone. A short time later I found out I was pregnant for the third time.

Pregnant? Again? Our son was only eight months old, and I was not ready for another baby, physically or emotionally. I cried every time I thought about what lay ahead.

In my seventh month, I became sick, and we thought I was in labor. Danny drove me to the emergency room. My doctor said I had a virus that mimicked labor. As I lay there, fearful I was losing my baby, I realized how much I did want this third surprise. "Please God, protect my baby until the time is right for her to come."

The time spent at the hospital wasn't all sadness and tears, though. As I laid in the room, a nurse came in, turned off the light, and shut the door. Moments later a fire alarm started blaring. The sound was deafening. If I wasn't in labor at the time, the alarm going off just about scared me into it. After a long wait, the nurse came back in and turned on the light. I asked her if there was a fire and she replied, "No, honey, it was just a fire drill. You can go home now."

Delivery day finally arrived. On the way to the hospital we drove across some railroad tracks. Danny turned to me and casually said, "If it's a girl, let's name her Katherine Leigh." I was hurting and naming the source of the pain wasn't high on my priority list. I agreed with his suggestion as another contraction hit. He could have named her Pacific Railroad for all I cared; I needed to get to the hospital--fast.

Katherine Leigh Cosby was born on November 9, 1980. She was a beautiful little girl with a head full of black hair--just like her daddy.

As my daughter reaches this milestone, I can honestly say that Katherine Leigh Cosby Brown is one of the finest, full-of-grace women I know. She loves deeply, and she loves long. Katie looks for the good in people and, when possible, helps them use that goodness to rise above an unwelcomed circumstance.

My daughter loves her two boys more than I ever expected she would or could. Katie was young when she became pregnant with Kody, but she pulled herself up and made a decision that blesses us all today. I didn't know for sure how she would handle being a young mother, but she made me proud. When times were bleak, she held on and did what needed to be done.

I have enjoyed watching her spiritual life grow from a small bud to a full-blown blossom. She is amazing and relates scriptural lessons beautifully. Her relationship with God is no longer on the back burner; she has moved Him up to the front and is turning the heat up. She longs to be all God wants her to be.

As a mother, you want your child to grow up be someone famous, or rich, or successful. As I've watched Katie mature, it's obvious she is famous, rich, and successful. Her boys know her voice above all others because she spends time with them telling them how much they are loved. She is wealthy beyond belief in the love of her family and many friends.

My beautiful, precious, Katie Bird, I pray that you will continue to grow in love with your God, your family, and friends. I pray that blessings far more abundant that you can ask or think will rain down on you as you seek God will all your heart. You are a treasure for the world to behold.

Happy Birthday.

Love,

Mom

Coffee Shop Conversations in My Box

2010-09-14T19:41:00.000-07:00

“We’ll meet at the coffee shop on the corner and talk a while.”

That is the overall tone of Coffee Shop Conversations by Dale and Jonalyn Fincher, founders of Soulation, a non-profit organization dedicated to helping others be appropriately human. I felt as though we sitting across from each other sharing our faith, our thoughts, and our lives. The book emits a conversational tone.

The Finchers take a new approach to evangelism: one that is not heavy-handed, brow beating, or Bible thumping. They listen to conversations, invest in lives, and share Jesus on a more intimate basis. Their early days of sharing their faith were more aggressive and “in-your-face.” Donalyn confessed that a lot of her friends probably prayed the “sinner’s prayer” just so she would leave them alone. Her zeal for sharing Jesus scared people away from both Jesus and Donalyn.

I particularly liked the chapter on “How to Read the Bible.” A chart of the different genres in the Bible, reading passages in context, and honestly sharing God’s Word provides a fresh perspective on reading the Bible. “Since God’s Word is a tether to our Father’s heart, our main resource for human flourishing, a privilege of correspondence inspired by God, we give others hope and clarity when we show them we understand the Bible.”

Whether you are a seasoned Christian raised in a church setting, or a new babe in Christ wanting to learn more about your newfound heavenly relationship, there is a wealth of eye-opening information, insights, and inspiration that will draw you in to share your Jesus experience in a new way.

You may find other reviews at Coffee Shop Conversations Book Reviews.

The publisher provided a review copy of the book.

The Malacca Conspiracy in My Box

2010-08-30T16:43:00.000-07:00

"All hands on deck."

For all of you Navy, ship-loving folks out there, The Malacca Conspiracy may be just the book for you.

The story spans the globe from Singapore to Washington and ports in between. It is a story of espionage, unrequited love, and weapons of mass destruction.

I had difficulty getting into the story line. There are many characters to keep up with, and I sometimes struggled to keep them straight. I finally felt the excitement of the story about halfway through the book and "got into it."

The publisher provided a review copy of the book.

Good Girls Don't Have to Dress Bad in My Box

2010-08-16T17:33:00.000-07:00

Did you know you should not wear the same bra two days in a row?

How do you find a pair of jeans that fit?

What do B O D and X have to do with fashion?

Shari Braendel’s latest book, GOOD GIRLS don’t have to DRESS BAD, will answer these fashion questions and many more.

Shari addresses fashion issues from head to toe and everywhere in between. She uses well-placed humor to drive home the point that “good girls don’t have to dress bad” to be noticed. She declares that women should be proud of the bodies God created for them. Shari also believes, and teaches, that we should dress God’s creation appropriately; fashion and modesty can be partners.

Shari’s book is a take-with-you-shopping resource. The book mirrors her fashion conferences; it’s basically the conference material in written format.

I had an opportunity to attend her workshop, “What to Wear,” at the She Speaks Conference in North Carolina (sponsored by Proverbs 31 Ministries). The information gleaned from the session resonates in my head when I shop. Shari personally consulted with me after the conference, and I purchased the suggested swatch packet appropriate for my coloring. When I shop, I refer to the swatches and my shopping time is more efficient.

For updated information about Shari and conference schedules go to www.ShariBraendel.com.

You can also read other reviews at www.amazon.com and www.blogtourspot.com

I recommend Shari’s book and conferences without hesitation.

Happy shopping!

The publisher provided a review copy of the book.

Sugar Free in My Box

2010-07-21T18:22:00.000-07:00

Sugar Free

January 13, 2010, I made a vow. It wasn’t a New Year’s Resolution to begin a diet or to read my Bible every day for the next year. I made those resolutions before and failed miserably.

This one was different; it was about redemption.

My thirty-one year old son picked up a white chip, the symbol of surrender to recovery. I promised not to eat sugar until he achieves his first drug-free year. The pledge honors him as he lives without drugs and helps me understand an addict’s hard, daily choices.

I chose to abstain from sugar for several reasons. I like sugar. It wouldn’t mean much to give up liver and onions. In addition, sugar’s availability makes it harder to resist the temptation. The enticement should fit the test.

The sugar-free resolution challenges me daily. I can choose sugar or I can “just say no.” It seems easy —but it isn’t.

Valentine’s Day came shortly after I made my decision. Chocolate defines this special day. I remained firm and didn’t have any. My resolve left me a little cranky, but sugar free.

My daughters bought a sinful cheesecake for my birthday dessert. I watched as they ate my birthday cheesecake. They showed surprise when I declined because, after all, it was my birthday. I wondered why they bought such a tempting dessert in light of my decision. Special occasions provide reasons to set aside resolve—right?

After working in my garage one afternoon, I felt hot and tired. Home alone, I went into the kitchen to get a drink. A solitary can of soda stood chilling in the refrigerator.

I wanted that soda.

I deserved that soda. No one would know. After all, it was just one soda. I fought with myself for about an hour, justifying all the reasons to drink it. In the end, I drank a glass of water. Soda was
not the issue. The issue was my commitment.

Addicts choose every day to stay sober or to use. They wake up knowing that a new battle just began. “Will I use today? Will I be strong? It’s only one drink, one pill. I’ll stop after watching one video. I can look through one more magazine; my secret is safe. It’ll be okay this time. I can handle it.”

The internal dialogue repeats itself again and again and rips at the gut. My son’s words replay in my head, “I was sober yesterday. If I do today what I did yesterday, I will be sober today. If I do tomorrow what I did today, I will be sober tomorrow.” Consider the addict’s mantra: “One day at a time.”

My sugar struggle pales in comparison to his war with drugs. I will never feel the intensity of the desires wreaking havoc in his mind and body. I might never comprehend the assault of recurring reminders of poor choices. I intentionally seek to understand the inner struggle. I want to feel the tension, the pull, and the craving that drives him to do what he doesn’t want to do. Holy Spirit, please strengthen him when he is weak.

I’ve learned that the farther away I am from my original commitment, the harder it is to consider it. I planted the flag in the sand six months ago, but some days my resolve seems shaky. For an addict, a Twelve Step meeting reminds them of the struggle that brought them to their knees; there is encouragement in remembrance.

I must confess: I slipped up. The taste testing appointment for my daughter’s wedding cake brought a sweet failing. Individual trays of mini-cakes sat before my daughter and me. Dobs of different icings were added to the tray. She had various fillings for our tongues to tango with. The sights and smells from the tray tantalized me for thirty minutes. I succumbed. Sounds like accessibility. Sounds like trouble. A phone call was in order.

“Josh, I have some bad news,” I said.

“What, Mom?” he asked.

“I ate two little cakes tonight with the cake designer. Now I will have to pick up a white chip and start over.”

He chuckled and said, “I’m proud of you Mom, at least you’re trying to understand.”

I know that avoiding sugar won’t change my son into an overnight drug-free miracle. But, he will see his mother cared enough to try and understand his cravings and choices. He will know his mother loved enough to walk a day--or a year—in his shoes. That bit of encouragement and concern may help him realize there is someone fighting for his life almost as much as he is.

We recently discussed his recovery, and I expressed impatience with his progress. He turned to
me and said, “Time takes time, Mom.”

And it does. The pledge is made; it starts as a moment in time, watered over many days, months, and years; often with a mother’s tears, but it evolves into a miracle for all to see.

The next time you see a sugary temptation, think of my son and me. Then think of the addict in your life. What can you do to show your support and encouragement? How will you demonstrate God’s grace and mercy to them “one day at a time?”

Can you say no to your craving?

O Me of Little Faith in My Box

2010-05-20T17:54:00.000-07:00

For all you Doubting Thomases, have I got a book for you: O Me of Little Faith by Jason Boyett.

Boyett candidly exposes his long-held doubts about God and faith. The opening analogy comes from his seventh-grade basketball team experience. The boys lifted weights and Boyett proved to the team his weakling status: his only lifted his own body weight. He concluded he was a weakling.

The years proved something else: he is a spiritual weakling as well. Boyett writes, "...I wonder if that weakness transferred from the outside to the inside. Some days when it comes to faith, I can't bench press much more than the bar. I'm spiritually scrawny."

The book is chock full of humor and personal stories. The reader quickly finds common ground with Boyett as he shares his heart about a weak faith. He also provides insights into how he deals with the weakness in his faith walk: he keeps praying and believing...he walks in the light he has.

One of the most notable aspects of the book is the honesty with which Boyett shares his battle with doubt. People raised in a religious environment often don't, or won't, confess those moments of doubt but Boyett does, and he opens the door for others to make the same admission.

The book was provided free of charge from the publisher. Learn more about Jason Boyoett at www.jasonboyett.com.

Life in Defiance in My Box

2010-05-11T18:53:00.000-07:00

"You're as sick as your secrets" defines Mary DeMuth's final book of the Defiance Texas Trilogy, Life in Defiance.

Ouisse (Louise) Pepper, wife to Preacher Hap and mother to Jed and Sissy, buries childhood secrets and continues to hide secrets during her marriage. She cannot air the dirty laundry of domestic violence, alcoholism, and benign neglect of her children to the little town of Defiance. What would the congregation do with the truth of severe beatings, chokings, and humiliations dispensed by the hand of her husband? What would the tongue waggers do with the knowledge of her love affair with alcohol? She swallows her secrets and hides in the shadow of her preacher husband.

She holds another secret close to her chest: the identity of Daisy Emory's killer. The killer's identity unravels through cleverly contrived flashbacks and insertions into the story line. DeMuth dangles the killer's identity before her readers like a carcas in front of a hungry lion. The tantilizing disclosure of the killer's name fuels the reader's drive to reach the story's end.

DeMuth infuses the truth of God's grace and mercy as Emory Chase commits her life to Jesus. The same truth is played out for Ouisse but she is reticent to accept the offer. The seeds of redemption and faith grow slow but deep, just like the hollyhock seeds she secretly plants. Ouisse's neighbor Ethrea tells her, "A seed planted can't help but grow." The seeds of friendship eventually yield bumper crops, right along with the flowers.

Another component of the story is how one person influences another. Ouisse demeans herself page after page only to be reminded by Emory and Ethrea that she has worth. The irony of Emory's encouragement is she, too, felt worthless and of "no account" because of her past. Hixon came into her life and, through simple acts of kindness, pointed her to Christ. The ultimate sacrifice of Hixon's life portrayed Christ's love for her. Emory passed that love on to Ouisse; she "paid it forward."

The Defiance Texas Trilogy offers intrigue, crime, passion, and redeeming love. A great read and highly recommended.

I received a review copy of the book from the publisher.

Radical in My Box

2010-04-29T19:15:00.000-07:00

Radical--such a harsh sounding word. The short "a" leaves an abrasive sound in my ears. The short form of the word, "rad," rhymes with "bad," my first reaction to the word "radical." To consider "radical" in the context of the church and Jesus seems wrong somehow, yet that is exactly what the book is about. It's a look at the Radical Jesus and the modern church.

David Platt's new book, Radical, Taking Back Your Faith From the American Dream, addresses the radical way in which "the church" has molded Christ's Church into a fellowship of convenience and comfort. Our churches look nothing like The Church Jesus talked about and died for. What happened in the last two thousand years to His Bride?

The comfortable nature of the church in the 21st century is diametrically opposed to the discomfort of the early church. Even in the 21st century, many believers throughout the world worship in extreme discomfort--except in America. These worshippers' very lives hang in the balance because of their radical faith.

Platt challenges the reader to think about their million-dollar church buildings, million-dollar car parking lots and weigh them against shabby, ill-equipped church buildings in other part of the world that don't have expensive cars lining the parking lot--their members don't have cars and many don't even own a bicycle. But, the lack of luxuries doesn't deter their commitment to serve the Radical Jesus.

The book is a challenge for Christians to consider living the radical life Jesus demonstrated on a daily basis. He told his disciples to leave their jobs, their families, even their dead, to follow Him and change the world. Could I do that? Could you?

He poses two questions in the first few pages of the book: "Was I going to believe Jesus?" and Was I going to follow Jesus?" The book explores Platt's quest to find answers to his questions; questions that should reverberate through all people of faith. The challenge comes from an honest look at Jesus' message and making it viable in our lives today.

According to Platt, most modern believers redefine the gospel of Christ to fit a comfortable, self-serving mold. We force Him to fit our way of thinking instead of the reverse. Have you ever said, "Well, Jesus didn't really mean....?" I have and by doing that, I've redefined Jesus to fit my way of thinking.

The book promises to challenge and probe the deep places of our hearts and souls; places we perhaps don't want to go or to spotlight. But, Jesus never said the way would be easy. He did say He would be with us.

Will you take the "Radical" challenge?

A free download is available through www.WaterBrookMultnomah.com/RadicalQuestion .

Coconut Cake in My Box

2010-04-05T17:29:00.000-07:00

Cakes at our house usually come from a local grocery store well known for delicious cakes. They are always good, always beautifully decorated, and always perfect. Why try to outdo a good thing, right? "If it ain't broke, don't fix it."

I decided to bake a homemade coconut cake for Easter dessert this year. I would impress the family with my cake-baking prowess. The cake was three layers and stood about eight inches high. The homemade cream cheese and cool whip icing looked scrumptious. I sprinkled coconut over the top and sides. The finished product: a thing of beauty--except for a few minor flaws, it leaned a little bit and had a slight lump on the top. But, it was a labor of love, and I knew the family would appreciate it. I hoped they wouldn't notice.

I took a picture of the cake on my phone and fowarded it to my children. Their responses made my heart swell with pride. "Wow, Mom, that's beautiful," one daughter responded. My son's comment, was "Cool." I strutted like a proud peacock.

After church the children and grandchildren gathered at our house for Easter lunch. My oldest grandson saw the cake sitting on the counter and asked, "Mimi, did you make that cake yourself?"

"Yes, I did, Kodster," I proudly replied.

"I thought so. It's kind of crooked. My mom showed me the picture last night, and I saw it leaning a little bit."

My strutting feathers folded.

I thought to myself that I should have done the usual thing and bought the cake from the grocery store deli; then it would be perfect, someone else's creativity would receive praise. I smiled and gave a sweet, grandmotherly reply, "That's okay, honey, it will still taste okay."

Then I thought, I'm glad I baked the cake myself. It showed my family how special they are to me. Not every cake has to be perfect to be good.

I am not much of a baker so my coconut cake was a labor of love, unlike the grocery store cake. Someone there bakes and decorates cakes for a living. The baker doesn't picture the faces of their family as the layers are iced and decorated. For them, it's just a job. For me, it was a way of expressing love for my family.

My cake mirrors us as humans. We have some lumps and bumps. Sometimes we even lean a little bit. But, we are God's workmanship and He is proud of us. Thankfully God doesn't stop using us because we have some shortcomings. Sure, we limp along in our faith walk on occasion, but He uses our imperfections to bring glory to His kingdom.

"For we are God's workmanship (masterpiece), created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do." Eph 2:10.

Sugar in My Box

2010-03-22T17:19:00.000-07:00

Have you ever made a commitment to give up sugar? The first day or two of the commitment goes smoothly. You avoid the office party where cakes, cookies and soft drinks are served. You go straight home from work and munch on a fresh salad or other non-sweet food. But, then day three arrives and the sugar craving starts to threaten your sanity. Everywhere you look there is sugar in one form or another: soft drinks, candy, cookies, cake, chewing gum, ice cream. It's like sugar is oozing out of every nook and cranny, intent on destroying your resolve to not partake of the sweet goodness of sugary delicacies. Sugar is almost inescapable.

On January 13, 2010, I made such a resolve: I would give up sugar in honor of my son's addiction. I chose sugar because it is readily available, is relatively cheap, and extremely tempting; like the drugs hell-bent on destroying our family.

The first few days weren't too painful; I graciously passed on offers of sweet treats at work parties, and, since I frequently diet, my friends thought it was another diet phase. Then the Lent season came and most people thought I was observing Lent by giving up sugar. I don't observe Lent. I didn't want to make a big deal of my commitment since it was between me and God and my son.

I made this commitment so that in some small way I would understand the temptation my son faces each time the urge to take painkillers strikes him. I wanted to somehow feel what he feels when confronted with the choice to use or not use. I didn't want to literally "walk a mile in his shoes" to experience the temptations, so giving up sugar was an acceptable substitute.

As a non-addict (as far as substances go) it is easy to cast stones of judgment at those who are. It is easy to say, "Well, why doesn't he or she just quit? If they would "just say NO" all their problems would go away. It's not that easy or simple. Addiction is a complex matter and overused cliches and euphisms won't cure an addict. My simple commitment to avoid sugar is a daily choice, much like the choice to use or not use a drug or drink is a choice. But even my commitment isn't so simple because I am faced with sugar everywhere I go, much like an addict is faced with drugs or alcohol.

One day, I confronted, head-on, some of what he, and others like him, must face. I had an extremely stressful day and wanted to reward myself in the afternoon with a soda. I saw the can sitting in the refrigerator and thought, "I'm so stressed and exhausted, I deserve to relax with a Coke. No one is here and it's only one drink. Josh will never know that I drank it. No one will ever know." I argued with myself for over an hour. I pushed through the temptation and had a glass of water. I won that battle, that day. To some it may sound silly, arguing with oneself over drinking a can of soda, but the battle was with my commitment: I committed to no sugar until my son is clean and sober, but in that moment, I felt justified in having something sweet "just this one time."

In similar fashion, an addict vows to never use again, but the vow is tested often and with much fervor. A friend has some pills or weed or other drug and an offer is made. Or, maybe there isn't an overt offer. Just knowing that something is available is enough to get the mental argument raging. The battle of the mind kicks in...full force. "It's just one pill. No one will ever know."

As you go about your daily life, stop and consider the behavior that so easily throws you off track: The unkind thoughts, the un-Christlike attitudes, the overeating affecting your health, the excessive shopping ruining your finances and remember there is a stereotypical addict making a decision to live "one day at a time." As you confront your "normal, acceptable" behaviors, say a prayer for an addict. Ask God to bless them with the serenity to accept the things they cannot change, the courage to change the things they can, and the wisdom to know the difference. Pray that God will grant them courage to continue doing the next right thing--one day at a time.

Proverbs 22:4 says, "Humility and the fear of the Lord bring wealth and honor and life." This is a worthy saying for both the addict and non-addict.

Laundromat in My Box

2010-02-14T13:46:00.000-08:00

A laundromat is an unlikely mission field. Who could share Jesus' love amidst washing machines and clothes dryers? Members of New Day Church, that's who.

New Day volunteers partnered with Laundry of Love to bless individuals when they arrived at the laundromat to wash their clothes. Armed with quarters, detergent, fabric softener sheets, and a friendly smile we greeted clothes washers with a gift: free wash and dry. The first response was always, "Thanks, but what's the catch?"

We washed clothes for several homelesss people during the day. What a humbling experience to watch them strip off protective layers of clothes. The cold weather is brutal right now, even in sunny Florida, and the homeless layer their clothes against the cold. How embarrassing it must have been for them to disrobe in front of strangers. Of course, they didn't strip bare; just enough to get the outside layers of clothing washed.

One woman we met was robbed of all her possessions at a truck stop in another city. She had two pairs of underwear, two pairs of socks and a couple of pairs of pants and a few shirts. I can't imagine carrying all that I own in two small bags. I can't imagine having to depend on the goodness of strangers for my next meal or even a cup of coffee. But, that is the life of the homeless among us.

My new friend once owned a home and had three jobs. She had a family whom she loved and who loved her. Through a series of events, she lost everything: home, job, and family. She became one of the homeless masses. At one point she tried to take her life; she showed me the scars on her wrist. She wanders from truck stop to truck stop with no destination in mind, going wherever the next ride takes her.

I bought her some undergarments, socks, and toiletries. Her two bags were bulging and would be difficult to carry, so I went back to Walmart and bought a wheeled duffle bag. Someone else bought her a sleeping bag. She had the basics to continue on her aimless wandering.

I prepared to leave and hugged her goodbye. She asked if she could speak privately with me, so we went outside the laundromat. She wouldn't look me in the eye and appeared to have difficulty asking me something. I asked, "What do you need? How can I help you?" She finally gathered her courage and with red-rimmed eyes said, "I want a cross. My cross got stolen with all my other stuff. I hate to ask you for anything else, but I really would like a new cross."

I was wearing a bejeweled cross I recently purchased and started to take it off. She hesitated a moment, and I said, "Is this too much for you?" She laughed and said, "Yes."

I then said, "Do you want to go to Walmart and get a cross?" She broke into a beautiful smile and said, "Oh, yes. I'd like that." We walked up to Walmart, and she picked out a cross. She handed it to me, and I put it around her neck. She reached up and touched it and softly said, "Now, I'm complete. I've got my cross back."

I am grateful for the opportunity to be Jesus' hands for a few hours on a Saturday morning. My new friend blessed me more than I blessed her. She reminded me of the Scripture, "as you've done it unto the least of these, you've done it unto me." This woman definitely falls into the "least of these" category.

The next time I pass a laundromat I will see it with new eyes. I'll look beyond machines and detergents and know that even a common, everyday laundromat can be a mission field if we see it through Jesus' eyes.

My Thin Place in My Box

2010-02-12T17:44:00.000-08:00

Drugs. Alcohol. Jail. Hardly the life I imagined for my son when he was born. My son shares my thin place. He is the thin place where God meets me with grace, mercy, and hope.

The tears I've shed for my son would fill an Olympic-sized pool if they were scooped off my cheeks and gathered in one place. The tears have not changed the circumstances one iota.

My heavenward pleas for help go unnoticed; at least that's how it feels. My son's situation remains unchanged. I beg and plead for deliverance and restoration but it doesn't come. Why doesn't God do something?

Jeremiah 31:15-17 provides the salve for my aching, questioning heart. When I feel my faith in God slipping, I go to this verse for a spiritual confidence boost: "This is what the Lord says, 'A voice is heard in Ramah, mourning and great weeping, Rachel weeping for her children and refusing to be comforted, because her chidlre are no more. This is what the Lord says, 'Restrain your voice from weeping and your eyes from tears, for your work will be rewarded,' declares the Lord,'They will return from the land of the enemy. So there is hope for your future, declares the Lord. Your children will return to their own land." (NIV)

I stand at my thin place, face pressed against the veil, straining to see the other side where there are no more questions. A blurred view is all I get for now. I wait for "Rachel's children to return to their own land."

This post is in response to a challenge by author Thin Places author Mary DeMuth. If you would like to enter the contest to win a Kindle, please go to soyouwannabepublished.

New York City in My Box

2009-12-12T18:26:00.000-08:00

Wealth and poverty share the same sidewalks of New York City.

Celebrities from all walks of life grace the city with their presence and their dollars.

Street vendors sell their wares to awe-struck tourists looking for a piece of the Big Apple to take back home. "I 'heart' NYC" items sell like hot cakes at stores everywhere throughout the city.

An old man, huddled beneath a mound of dirty blankets struggling against the 24-degree weather, accepted a half-smoked cigarette from a man walking past him. The man asked if he needed anything else, to which the old man replied, "I need something to eat, man."

I heard the man's request for food but kept walking. A few steps away from him, I remembered the pieces of bread in my pocket. I had enjoyed a sumptuous lunch at the trendy Cafe Lalo and wrapped the leftover bread inside a napkin and slipped it into my coat pocket to later share with my daughter-in-law. I walked back to his mountain of blankets and offered him the bread. He thanked me with a "God bless you." The verse from Matthew 24:34 came racing to my mind, "...when I was hungry you gave me something to eat..." I returned his blessing with "Merry Christmas."

The Salvation Army bell ringers stand their posts at street corners graciously accepting donations from passersby. The giver is greeted with "Happy Holidays" in thanks for the money dropped in the red kettle.

Blended aromas of street-cart-cooked hot dogs, roasted nuts, and pretzels assault the shoppers on their way to the next tourist attraction or business meeting. The ever-present desire to eat walked with me through the clouds of tempting food smells.

Central Park is an enigma in this city of skyscrapers, constant noise, and chaos. The Park is quiet and serene. I felt like I stepped back in time before developers snatched up the land and started plopping buildings down everywhere. Peace, so unnoticed in the City, enveloped me like a warm blanket as we followed the winding walk trails through the Park. The ice skating rink in the Park provided an uncommon form of relaxation for Misi as she skated lap after lap.

Sirens blare non-stop. Policemen are on every major street corner watching all who walk past, ever vigilant to look for trouble before it breaks out. Office buildings have guards posted at the entrances to check all who come inside. The events of September 11th forever changed the emotions of the city.

I saw a man lying on the sidewalk by my hotel, shot dead by police officers minutes before I arrived to hail a taxi. The victim was a sidewalk vendor who fired rounds at an undercover cop when asked for his vendor ID and permit. Crowds gathered as the officers screamed for everyone to "get back." The shooting left me nervous, and I watched people closer as I passed them on the street.

Price-gouging, or that's how it feels, is rampant. A package of cigarettes costs $11 and people pay the price. Some restaurants charge $12 for an egg, cooked any way; but that's all you get: an egg cooked any way you want. A bowl of oatmeal cost $10 at our hotel.

It is a city unlike any other I've ever visited. I felt myself sucked into the excitement and wonderment of the place called The Big Apple. I fell prey to the magnet of souvenir vendors just like thousands of other tourists. I stood transfixed at the sounds and sights of this city different from my own.

As I explored the city by myself one day, I came upon the First Baptist Church of NYC. An elderly lady greeted me at the front door and invited me to come in to see the auditorium and rest for a moment. We talked for a few minutes, and I asked her this question: "How do you share you faith in a city like this one?"

She chuckled and said, "Well, you just open your heart and share it. It's real easy, you know. People are hungry to know we are here."

She explained that the Baptist Church doesn't meet on Sunday evenings and a Presbysterian congregation rents the building for their services. The place is packed out with young people each Sunday night and many are being reached for Christ, right in the heart of the city. Praise the Lord there is a light shining in the darkness.

Yes, New York City sits on a pedestal of its own in a variety of ways, but it shares a commonness with even the smallest of towns: people looking for their way in this world, to be loved and to love. As the lady at the church said, "just open your heart and share it."

"Lord, thank you for the opportunity to experience New York City at Christmas. Thank you for providing together time with Misi. Thank you for people willing to share their faith in a city focused on the window dressings of life. Bless those who serve you and increase their efforts. May New York City feel your presence, not just in the lights and sounds of Christmas, but all year long."

Momma Dog in My Box

2009-11-10T13:03:00.000-08:00

She stood beside the road, eyes focused straight ahead. Then came a tentative step onto the pavement, but she moved backwards as a car approached. She tried again to get to the opposite lane of the road--trying to reach a lifeless puppy. The momma dog tried to reach her fallen baby, but car after car prevented her attempts. I burst into tears because I saw myself in that four-legged mother.

I was headed to my daughter's house when I witnessed the momma dog's rescue efforts. On the return trip, she was nowhere in sight, but her little puppy remained in the roadway--alone.

The connection to this mother dog bears explaining. I, too, have a wounded and injured "puppy"--my son, Joshua. Truth be told, I have several wounded pups because Josh's addiction has affected my two daughters, daughter-in-law, and son-in-law. A glaring difference is that my pups are not left alone in their pain and suffering.

Reflecting on the momma dog's actions made me realize that I step onto the roadway trying to save my son, but the cars of life knock me out of the way, and I can't get to him. I try desperately to fix him, to kiss away the boo-boos that are self-inflicted, but I can't solve the problems. The realization that perhaps it is not up to me to save him has begun to sink in. There is Someone much greater than me who can--His name is Jesus.

Unlike the mother dog who walked away from her fallen puppy, I will remain on the side of the road with anticipation and expectancy. I know God has a plan for Josh's life, a plan that will bring good and not harm. He is knocked down at the moment, but he will be redeemed and restored by the power of the Holy Spirit. He is not alone.

"Thank you father for loving us when we are at our worst. Thank you for your redeeming love, the everlasting kind of love that knows no end. Thank you for restoring and refreshing our spirits when they are tired and worn out from struggling against something beyond our understanding. Thank you for being able to do abundantly more than we could ever ask or think. Amen."

Slow Burn by Mary DeMuth in My Box

2009-09-29T07:57:00.000-07:00

The sun stood hot and still in the sky. My skin felt its warmth and welcomed it. As the day wore on, my skin began to shift from its usual pale color to an enlivened pink. By sunset, my white, freckled skin shone bright red--victim of a slow burn.

Mary DeMuth's second offering in the Defiance Texas Trilogy, Slow Burn, provides the reader with a slow, building tension of happenings in the little Texas town of Defiance. The missing 13-year-old, Daisy, is found but the killer is not. Muriel's cancer eats away at a snail's pace. Hixon's feelings for Emory Chase percolate until the moment is right to pour out his true feelings. The characters build to an eruption of emotions that culminate in revealing secrets long hidden and buried.

Slow Burn reveals God's character of mercy and grace through Hixon's love for Emory. The rejection Emory felt from her mother parlayed itself into her own rejection of relationships, even that of her daughter, Daisy. Hixon sought to draw Missy, as he lovingly called her, out of the past's clutches and melt her heart of ice with the warmth of God's love and forgiveness.

Mary DeMuth cleverly works in and through relationships, redemption and restoration in Defiance, Texas. The characters evolve into lessons the reader can apply to their own life. Life change is an expected outcome as the characters become real through DeMuth's carefully woven story.

Water Trough in My Box

2009-08-26T18:42:00.000-07:00

"You can lead a horse to water but you can't make him drink" is an old adage. I've heard that saying for as long as I can remember and usually pass over it without much thought.

Someone recently asked me what I thought that saying meant. Its meaning is obvious, or at least I thought it was until I stopped and really considered it. I told her that it meant you can lead a horse by its reins to the water trough, but it's up to the horse to bend its neck and lap the water. Even if its head is plunged below the surface, the horse determines whether or not the water will be drunk. It's an adage about choices not about drinking water.

People are much like a horse being led to a water trough. We are hot, tired and thirsty from life's struggles. Perhaps we struggle with an addiction; be it food, substances, shopping, gambling or other behavior that is life controlling. Perhaps we battle attitudes that are unbecoming. We are led by every whim of society and culture that blows our way. All these influences make us thirsty for something that will satisfy.

God's trough of Living Water is available to all who come. In John 7:37, Jesus said, "If anyone thirsts, let him come to me and drink." Yet, for one reason or another, we often languish in our thirst because we don't want to take the final step toward the trough. "Come to me." requires movement on our part. We choose to come or to stay. We choose to be miserable or contented. Jesus won't throw us in the trough by force, he gently leads us to the Water, the choice to drink is ours.

Why do we hesitate when the invitation is so simple? Because it's easier to stay where it's familiar? We are hot and sweaty, maybe even a little stinky, but we choose to remain in the same place. We see the cool, refreshing water. We can almost taste its refreshment on our parched tongues, but our feet won't budge from where they are firmly planted. Moving forward will require a change of position. We might have to change a habit in order to move forward. We might need to change an attitude toward someone to move toward the water.

The next time you feel scorched and thirsty, think about the trough of Living Water. It will fully satisfy your soul.

God bless.

Barnabas in My Box

2009-08-09T06:55:00.000-07:00

God is so good. He sends just what I need when I need it. His provision can come through a word from a friend or through His Word, but however it comes, it comes.

I am writing a book about a painful time in the life of our family. I continually wonder if I should be writing it and, at the end of the day, think who cares that our family suffered through some rough times. Everyone has struggles and problems, right? Why do I think we are so special that a book needs to be written?

This morning I read about Barnabas, the Encourager, and sensed that still, small voice of the Holy Spirit saying, "this is why you are writing the book." That nudging from the Holy Spirit confirmed what friends have said about the book. Barnabas encouraged Paul and John Mark and Peter in their ministries and helped resolve conflicts between Paul and John Mark. He encouraged them to work through the problems with the goal of reaching the multitudes for the newly-risen Christ. Our story will encourage parents.

I received a phone call late Friday afternoon from a friend with whom I worked several years ago. We have kept in contact and occasionally talk on the phone. She called to let me know her 28-year-old son is in jail on several felony charges, and he has a bond hearing on Wednesday. The charges will be reduced to misdemeanors and probably dropped altogether. He will be released from jail on Wednesday according to his attorney; therein the reason for her call.

He is a drug addict and has no place to go upon his release. She called me for help in finding treatment for her son. I made a phone call and arranged for his placement in a facility in another county. I called her back to let her know the arrangements were made and there is a bed waiting for him--if he wants help.

After she calmed down, I asked if I could pray with her and she said "yes." I prayed for her son and then for her. I asked the God of the Universe to fill her with His peace, the peace that passes all human understanding. I encouraged her to be strong and to do what she had to do; to take care of herself physically, emotionally and spiritually.

She thanked me for helping her and then hung up with a new sense of hope and encouragement. I came away from the conversation encouraged that the Lord used me to help and strengthen a broken-hearted mother. I cannot fix her son and neither can she. That is his decision and choice. It is difficult for a parent to understand and grasp with both hands, that at some point, our children make their own decisions. We cannot fix our children when they are broken. We can stand beside them as they struggle and hold their hands, but we cannot fix all their boo-boos. This is the message of my book: to offer hope, encouragement and strength to hurting parents in the face of overwhelming despair and hopelessness.

Dear Jesus, thank you for encouraging me to encourage others. Thank you for giving me the life experiences that qualify me to encourage the broken-hearted and discouraged. I thank you that your Word says, "arise, shine for your light has come and the glory of the Lord will shine on you." I thank you that the light of mercy and grace shines in my heart. My prayer is that it radiates outward and touches many for your Kingdom. I thank you for the lesson of Barnabas this morning and how you used a single man to impact your work here on earth through simple words and deeds of encouragement. Continue to place in my heart a Barnabas spirit.

Amen.

Cayden in My Box

2009-08-07T06:47:00.000-07:00

August 5th is a special day: Cayden Thomas Cosby's first birthday.

I can't believe that Cayden has been a member of our family for a year. It seems like yesterday that Josh called and said, "Mom, are you ready to be a Mimi again?" We spent almost 24 hours at Tampa General Hospital while Misi and Josh paced the halls trying to "walk him out." There were a few tense moments but Mr. Cayden finally made his appearance.

Cayden is one big bundle of smiles and laughs. There are few times when he's not smiling--like when he's eating or sleeping--and he probably smiles then, too. He is a happy little fella and he makes me smile just thinking of him.

I think he may be a mountain climber when he grows up. He's already exhibiting prowess in that department. I was at Josh and Misi's house last week and he attempted to climb a book shelf. Thankfully Misi was holding it in place or it might have toppled over. He was climbing their stairs soon after he started crawling. The stairway has been gated for two or three months.

He has discovered the art of crawling into small places so perhaps he will be a spelunker when he grows up. Maybe he will enjoy crawling and exploring caves and finding all sorts of adventures in places most people won't venture. He enjoys crawling through the coffee table space, turning around and grinning before sliding through onto his head on the other side. Yep, he might be a cave explorer.

Cayden also loves music so that could be in his future. He has a toy that plays music and he enjoys hitting the button and then dances to the different tunes that appear like magic. He grins and laughs as he moves in rhythm to the music. Maybe he will be on "So You Think You Can Dance" one day.

Books also interest him. He laughs as he pulls the books off the bookshelf. Occasionally he will sit on top of the pile he's made in the floor, flip through a book, toss it aside and reach for more. I hope he is a lover of books; he can travel to distant lands, learn different ideas and philosophies from books. I pray that God's Word will be his favorite; it holds the keys to right living.

Cayden is blessed to have a Mommy and Daddy who love him with all their hearts. I don't know of another father as fanatical about their son as Josh. Misi looks at Cayden with a look only a Mommy can have. Little Cayden will never lack for love from his parents.

Little Cayden, I love you so very much. I see a lot of your Daddy when I look in your dark brown eyes. You have his winsome personality and his love for life. Take that love of life and temper it with your Mommy's love of knowledge and you will go far.

"Dear Father, bless this precious child on his first birthday. Bless him with many years of life; a life that will be pleasing and glorifying to you. May his life touch many people and may everything he does draw others to you. Bless his Mommy and Daddy as they bring him up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord. Bless them with an extra measure of rest and patience as they raise their son. Let them feel your presence when the way is rough. May they know the gentle touch of your Holy Spirit as you guide them into all truth. I thank you for this precious grandson who will enrich our lives in ways that only Cayden can. Bless him with good health. Keep him under your protective wing."

I love you Cayden and happy birthday.

Love,

Mimi

Young Father in My Box

2009-08-06T10:30:00.000-07:00

I recently flew on an overbooked airplane. Passengers were asked to trade seats to accommodate families with small children. Everyone was situated after a few rounds of musical seats, and I ended up sitting next to a man with a 14-month-old boy. Michael was a fidgety little guy who couldn't sit still. His mommy and older brother were sitting five rows behind us and he constantly stood up and yelled, "Mommy!" pointing in her direction. I thought to myself, "this could be a long flight."

The father is an electrical engineer by training and occupation but a musician by desire and passion. He described his busy career and said more than once how much he hates his job. He told me that he's resigned five times in the last ten years and with each resignation, a tantalizing cash carrot is dangled before him. "Two more years, " he said, "and I'm quitting it for good."

His heart longs to write songs and play music. In addition to his engineering credentials, he's a trained musician. He's made demo tapes. He has industry connections to make his dream a reality, but the fear of not making enough money (however much that is) is greater than his desire to follow his dream.

He told me that before the children came along he and his wife would meet in an airport, have dinner and she would give him the keys to their car in the airport parking lot. She would continue her flight and he would go home. Then the next week the schedule would be in reverse--he would give her the car keys and he would continue traveling. I asked him how they ever managed to have two children. He didn't respond.

Their current travel schedule isn't much better now that they have children. He works in Los Angeles and they live in Tampa. He works on the west coast two weeks each month and flies in and out of Tampa on a regular basis. I was tired just listening to his hectic schedule. He and his wife swap this flight pattern regularly. He keeps the boys and she travels.

As I listened to him talk, I was reminded of my life several years ago when Danny traveled at a frenetic pace. He was always on a plane going somewhere--somewhere other than home. We paid a dear price for all that travel. I briefly shared our family's story with my seatmate and encouraged him to stay home with his boys. He said that's his desire but right now the money is just too good to pass on.

Ah, the money. I recall thinking if we had lots of money we would be problem-free; life doesn't work that way. A quick look at the slick magazines in checkout lines cry out that fame and fortune don't guarantee a problem-free existence. For all their millions, the magazine-covered celebrities suffer just like the rest of us who don't have all those dollars in our checking accounts. Matthew 16:25-26 says, "What good will it be for a man to gain the whole world and forfeit his soul? What can a man give in exchange for his soul?"

I watched this young father play with his son and heard Michael's sweet laughter as his daddy tickled him. I remarked, "that is such a sweet sound, enjoy it." He looked at me like I was nuts! I hope and pray that something I said will help him answer the tough questions about what is most important in his life. Those boys will stay young and innocent for only a short while. The childish peals of laughter change into deeper voices sooner than we want them to change. We can't go back and recapture misspent time.

I've thought of this young career man several times since our plane landed. My prayer is that he truly becomes grounded and seeks God's best for his family.

Book in My Box

2009-07-25T01:25:00.000-07:00

I love books. Our house looks like an annex to a public library or a small version of Barnes & Nobles. Every room has at least one book, including the bathrooms. Since I have so many of them, I thought it would be cool to write my own book. It would be great to see my name on a book for a change. I have started the process of writing a book. And, I am here to tell you that writing a book is not an easy task.

First, what will be the title of this masterpiece? It needs to be catchy, something to catch a reader's attention. How about this one: Domestic Terrorism: Behind the White Picket Fence? I like it because it pretty much sums up the experience with our three children who turned into domestic terrorists for a while in their teens. The picket fence represents home, mom and apple pie; those qualities that we read about in books or see on TV. The qualities that make us good and decent people.

The next area is to divide the book into sections and chapters. It's hard to select chapter titles but having them tie into the book title made the choices a little easier. A few of them are Building the Fence, Collateral Damage, Gathering the Troops, and Final Inspection.

Then there is grammar and punctuation and spelling and all sorts of things I learned in school that I've forgotten. That's why there are books in the bookstore that remind you how to do all that stuff. You guessed it; I've bought quite a few of them recently and have highlighted a line or two.

My book is about the struggles our family went through with various issues: addiction, unplanned pregnancy, legal problems and general misbehavior by three of my favorite people. We certainly are not the only family that has encountered problems in these areas, nor will we be the last. What sets us apart is the fact that we came through these trials intact as a family. Danny and I didn't get a divorce. The children didn't get killed in an accident. We still love each other very much and want the best for each other. We are a family.

The book is a testament to God's unfailing love and watch care over some young people who made bad choices. It tells of God's watchful eye when Mom and Dad weren't around to see what was happening. The book offers hope to parents who are deeply discouraged by what is happening in their family. I learned the hard way, that I cannot change another person. I can't unaddict an addict; only that person can make that decision. I can only make changes in myself--through God's grace, mercy and guidance.

I was alone when our family was struggling. I didn't know where to turn for help. I didn't even know another family who had these kinds of struggles. It was a terribly lonely time and I want to offer other parents hope and encouragement. I want to tell a distraught mother, "I know where you are--I've been there."

One of my favorite verses is Psalm 6. King David cries out to God, "I am worn out from groaning; all night long I flood my bed with weeping and drench my couch with tears. My eyes grow weak with sorrow; they fail because of all my foes. Does that sound like a parent weeping over a child? King David wasn't weeping over a child in this particular verse, but it sure sounds like something I have done more than once. But later on in Psalm 30:5 he says, "For his anger lasts only a moment; but his favor lasts a lifetime; weeping may remain for a night, but joy comes in the morning." I take great comfort in those verses. I may cry all night long but joy comes in the morning as a new day emerges from the darkness of night. New days bring new hope.

I pray my book gets published some day. If it doesn't, it's okay. I'm writing it and the outcome is not in my hands. I've given my book to God, after all, it's His story that is being told.

Old Friend in My Box

2009-04-14T18:52:00.000-07:00

Thanks to Facebook I was reunited with a friend from our days in Tennessee that I hadn't seen in 28 years. We met at a Chili's Restaurant and talked until we were hoarse. One of the first things she asked me through tear-filled eyes was, "Tell me why we were friends. What was it that made our friendship special?"

Her question caught me by surprise and I had to think for a moment. I responded that first and most important was the way she loved my daughter. Our daughters were two weeks apart in age and they became very close playmates, as close as two years olds can be! I could trust Caron's care to her and never worry or wonder if all was well. Secondly, I told her that I loved her house. She had a Jenn-Air stovetop that was fantastic. Third was the fantastic Mississippi Mud Cake that she fixed fairly often. That one was sort of a joke!

I am still pondering her question and I still haven't come up with a profound answer. We were just friends. Nothing magical about it, just friends. I knew that I could call on her at any time for any reason and she would be there for me. When I was pregnant with our second child she volunteered to keep Caron while I was in the hospital. It was in the middle of the night when Josh decided to make his appearance, and we had to call and awaken my friend to let her know we were on our way with our precious Caron. I was able to leave my daughter knowing she would be safe and loved while I was away....and she was. What a special gift she gave to me. When I had our third child she did the same thing. She kept Caron and another friend kept Josh.

Then there was another time I had to call her for help. It was on a Wednesday afternoon and I was washing dishes and all of a sudden I dropped the glass I was washing and I couldn't see out of my left eye. I was scared to death and immediately called my friend. She came and got Caron and Josh, prayed for me and took them to her home. I went to bed and had my first migraine headache. But, because of my friend, I was able to work through the headache knowing my children were safe and secure. I ended up meeting her at church for Wednesday night supper!

We moved from Tennessee back to Birmingham in 1981 and I lost touch with my friend and her family. I tried to locate them but no one seemed to have an address or phone number. I recently looked on Myspace.com and other on-line search devices without success. I tried Facebook a couple of times but nothing happened there, either; at least not until about six weeks ago when I couldn't sleep one night, and I plugged in my friend's daughter's name. It was a shot in the dark but I had nothing to lose. Up popped about 300 names. Since I couldn't sleep, I decided I'd look at every picture and hunt down the daughter. I finally came upon a young woman that I thought looked like her and sent her a message. And, can you believe it? It was her! She let her mom know that I was looking for her and we've been emailing and talking on the phone ever since.

That's the neat thing about friends. Real friends. You can be apart for years...even 28 of them...and pick right up where you left off. She will always be a special friend. She will always pray for me and my family, whether we're communicating or not. She will always be my sister in Christ because we love and serve the same Lord.

Do you have a friend that you can call in times of trouble? Times of joy? Someone who will share the load of life with you? If you do, then you are a rich person. Friends enrich our lives at different seasons for different reasons. Some fade in and out but their mark is left behind. As I recall my friends through the years, I have been so blessed to have had some of the most wonderful friends in the world.

Thank you Father, for my special Tennessee friend.

Mason in My Box

2009-03-30T07:31:00.000-07:00

Today is March 30th. Today is a special day. Today is Mason's THIRD birthday. It's hard to believe that "Mr. Mason" has been with our family for three years. Mason has a personality unlike the other grandchildren. Mason knows what he wants (or doesn't) and it's rather difficult to persuade him to a different way of thinking! Some might call that stubborness or being strong-willed and it might very well be that there is some of that going on in his little head, but, if channeled properly and wisely, he can be a very strong man who won't be easily influenced and led astray.

Proverbs 22:6 says : "Train up a child in the way he (she) should go and when he (she) is old, he (she) will not depart from it." I have heard all sorts of teachings on this verse and one that made the most sense to me was many years ago in a sermon by Tim Wilson at Calvary Church in Brandon. His take on the verse is that the "train up a child" part is to train your child to grow in his or her natural bent. If their gifting is in the arts, then help them grow in that area. If their gifting is leadership, help them develop leadership skills perhaps through sports or other group settings. Listen to your child, observe your child, get involved with your child so that the natural bents will become obvious to you. As a parent you will, of course, want to make sure your child is well-rounded and exposed to many disciplines, but if your child is not a mathmetician, the math or chess club might not be the best fit. Fitting a square peg into a round hole is never fun and is usually painful for both the peg and the hole!!

So, back to Mr. Mason. His mommy and daddy probably have some challenging days ahead of them as they learn what his natural bents are. But, with God's help and guidance, they can train him in the way he should go. A tool that is available to assist Mason's parents and others is Dr. Gary Chapman's, Love Languages for Children. The book is an excellent resource for learning what makes your child tick and then loving and guiding them in the way that they best receive information and guidance. He also has one for teens and adults.

Happy Birthday, my precious Mason. I am so thankful God chose our family to love you. You are a special gift that blesses us every day, challenges included. May your tender heart be turned to God. May your spirit be sensitive to the wooing of the Holy Spirit as you hear the Word proclaimed in your home. May your beautiful blue eyes behold the wonders of God's awesome creation and know that it is He who made you, that you are fearfully and wonderfully made, that you were made in God's image, that He knows the very number of hairs on your head, He knows your rising and your sleeping, that He cares for you and upholds you with his mighty right hand.

Happy Birthday. Love, Mimi

Serendipity in My Box

2009-03-29T20:29:00.000-07:00

"Mom, I need your credit card. Get ready, I'm on my way to get you." That isn't exactly how I planned to begin my Saturday morning, but I wanted to find out why my credit card was needed so I prepared myself ready to be gotten by my oldest daughter.

We headed to a local car rental business where she had arranged to rent a convertible for the weekend. Yes, I said convertible. We were enjoying a Chamber of Commerce day in Tampa, and she thought it would be fun to ride around town in a convertible taking in the gorgeous weather. So, I plopped my credit card down on the counter and gave my consent for this serendipitous moment. (Actually, I didn't pay for the moment, she had to have a major credit card to rent the car...she paid for the moment.)

We went outside and inspected the gleaming white convertible. The young woman from the rental office very carefully explained the process of making the car topless. Wow, things have really changed in the convertible department. Years ago, it was usually a two-person process to make the change. This particular car was a snap of two locks and a push of a button and, within seconds, the car was topless.

Caron and her son hopped in the car, fastened their seat belts and took off for a fun-filled weekend of feeling the wind whipping through their hair, wind brushing over their faces and basking in the jealous stares of other drivers as they sped by.

They came to our house the next day sporting sunburns! Seems that one of the benefits of having a regular hardtop model is protection from the sun. The next problem was sore muscles from the tight suspension of the car, the fact that they were much lower to the ground than her regular car and every bump and rough spot in the roadway had been felt by them.

After the convertible weekend, Caron made a proclamation: "I will never buy a convertible." She came to that realization after only a weekend of sunburn and sore muscles. But, she was so glad she had rented it. Why? She made a memory with her son that day. She acted on a wild hair and she and Caleb sported around in someone else's car and enjoyed spending those few hours laughing and just being together doing something a little bit out of the box.

I'm proud of her for seizing that moment with her son. To some it may have been a waste of money but money can be made back. Lost memories can't. Caleb will remember this day and know that his mommy wasn't afraid to be spontaneous and do something fun. I wish that I had seized moments with my children that are now forever lost.

As children are going through various stages of growth, parents often say that they learn things from their children. My children are grown and I am still learning from them. They are so attentive to grab hold of special moments and cherish the times with their boys. They aren't afraid to be silly or get their hair wet or mess up their makeup. Those are lessons that I learned too late except that God provided a second chance when He gave me grandchildren.

So, the convertible weekend was a reminder to me that sometimes I need to live life outside my usual box. I need to do something unexpected. I need to grab the memory-making-moments and run with them, letting the wind blow through my hair. I can always brush it back into place.

Rain in My Box

2009-03-23T20:14:00.000-07:00

The house was quiet this morning. I was doing my morning Bible reading when I heard a noise. It sounded like someone tossing something against the sliding glass door. I was home alone and was concerned someone was outside the door. What, or who, could be making the noise? I got up and very carefully looked out the blinds covering the glass doors. There, before my very eyes was the culprit: rain! It has been what seems like months without rain, and I have grown unaccustomed to the sound of it beating on windows.

Sometimes our lives are the way I was when I heard the unfamiliar sounds of rain hitting the windows. I have heard rain on windows many, many times during my life but it has been such a long time since I've heard it that, at first, I wasn't sure what I was hearing. That's what I mean about our lives being like that. We know the sound of God's voice, we've heard it many, many times in the past, but for one reason or another, it's been a long time and when it does come, we are unsure what we are hearing.

We get up, see what is happening, and realize God is speaking to our hearts and we are put at ease. There are many reasons, or distractions, that keep us from hearing that still, small voice: work, family, life in general. We are so busy doing our daily routines that sometimes the voice is pushed aside, unheard and unheeded. I Kings 19:11 tells about Elijah's experience in hearing the familiar voice of God: "And He said, Go out and stand on the mount before the Lord. And behold, the Lord passed by, and a great and strong wind rent the mountains and broke in pieces the rocks before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind; and after the wind an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake; And after the earthquake a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire; and after the fire [a sound of gentle stillness and] a still, small voice. When Elijah heard the voice, he wrapped his face in his mantle and went out and stood in the entrance of the cave."

The next time you or I hear that familiar, sweet voice of God, may we be so attuned to it that we will welcome its wooing with open arms and a ready heart.

Bedpan in my Box

2009-03-22T16:22:00.000-07:00

I had back surgery on Wednesday, the 18th. The plan was for me to go home a few hours after the surgery but there was a complication and I stayed three days. I had a cerebral spinal fluid leak (CSF) that required I remain flat on my back that, in turn, meant I couldn't get up to go to the bathroom. I was receiving IV fluids that meant I needed to get up to go to the bathroom. Well, I became quite proficient in using the dreaded bedpan. The main problem with this ingenius device is that there was more outflow than anticipated and my bedpan regularly overflowed. I asked the nurse if she had a bigger one for me to use so she wouldn't have to change the pad on my bed or my gown with each bedpan use. She said she did and went to get one.

Well, she came in with what looked like a dishpan in comparison to the smaller version I had been overflowing. I got tickled when she proudly presented it to me. I began to laugh hysterically as I tried to maneuver myself on this giant bedpan. She had a look on her face that seemed to be saying, "I wish they hadn't closed the psych ward. This patient may need to go there." I laughed and laughed and laughed as I tried to envision what I looked like perched on this Big Bertha Bedpan. My mother-in-law called as I was finishing, and I got tickled all over again and could barely speak to her. I think she probably would have agreed with my nurse, "she's nuts."

The next day I was finally allowed to get up and use a bedside toilet and, as liberating as that was, it somehow didn't have the same sense of accomplishment as using the bedpan. The following day I was told to use the restroom in the hospital room. When I went in there for the first time I saw my old friends: the junior bedpan and Big Bertha. There they sat, all alone and unneeded, and I told them "thank you" for helping me during my time of need and then patted the flusher handle on the real toilet and got back in bed. Grateful and relieved.

Birthday Candles in the Box

2009-03-02T16:52:00.000-08:00

Tomorrow is my birthday and that means I will be one year closer to the one that starts with a SIX! I heard a radio speaker today who is 86 years old talk about the joy in his life, even at his age, and that the joy comes from being active and serving the Lord in all that he does. He has just completed his fourteenth book for crying out loud.

I have mixed feelings about this age thing...it's nice to get the senior discounts that my AARP membership offers; but, just when you finally start feeling good about yourself and where you are emotionally, relationally and financially, your body starts falling apart and things start sagging and getting flabby.

I've long wanted to write a book but now, "at my age," I've thought that it's too late to think about writing a book or two. Who wants to read something from an old lady? What do I have to say that could impact the world?

The scripture the man quoted was Psalm 92:12-15: "The righteous will flourish like a palm tree, they will grow like a cedar of Lebanon; planted in the house of the LORD, they will flourish in the courts of our God. They will still bear fruit in old age, they will stay fresh and green, proclaiming, "The LORD is upright; he is my Rock, and there is no wickedness in him."

The verse, "They will still bear fruit in old age," is particularly encouraging since I'm (thankfully) headed towards that title: old age. When I heard these verses read it was a confirmation that I can still be useful in my old age. I will still bear fruit as long as I am planted in Christ for He is my sustenance and strength.

So, tomorrow as I think about having another birthday, I will say that "this is the day the Lord has made, I will rejoice and be glad in it. I will thank Him for planting me firmly in His plan. I will accept by faith that I will still bear fruit in my old age, and that I will be a light to those I meet.

Balls in the Box

2009-02-27T19:31:00.000-08:00

Danny and I attended the Harlem Globetrotters game tonight. It has been many, many years since we witnessed the antics of the Globetrotters. Watching them tonight was more interesting than entertaining, at least to me.

It was interesting that so many kids were laughing and enjoying the show because it was slapstick comedy at its best. There was no high-tech gimmicks or light shows or anything over the top but the audience was eating it up. The crowds buying the Globetrotter merchandise was a clear indicator that the kids were loving it and wanted to take a piece of history home with them. Did you know that the Harlem Globetrotters have been entertaining audiences for 82 years? Didn't look like much of a recession was going on at the St. Pete Times Forum.

I found it quite refreshing to see children, and adults, enjoying simple rather hammy comedy acts instead of excessively contrived computer-generated animations and the like. There were three boys sitting next to us ranging in age from probably 10 to 15 and they seemed to genuinely enjoy the players and cheered loudly when the Globetrotters scored a point against the Generals.

The basketballs that were bounced across the court and purchased from vendors are symbols of simple things. It's what we used to play with neighborhood friends after school. It's just a rubber ball that bounces when dribbled or thrown against a backboard. It's not high tech or fancy, it's just a ball. But, that simple object has brought many hours of pleasure to young and old alike; the gifted player or the driveway star. We can relate to that rush as the ball swooshes through the net. I played basketball in college and loved the feel of recovering a rebounding ball.

Yes, a basketball in my box is a good thing. Wish I could still run a full-court press!

God bless.

Lots of Stuffs

2009-02-25T12:09:00.000-08:00

"Mimi, look at all your stuffs," declared Mason. He was demonstrating the breadth of the situation with his arms as he declared again, "Mimi, look at all your stuffs. You have lots of stuffs." I had to agree with him, there was no way around it. Mimi has lots of stuffs. Mason is my very observant three-year-old grandson.

I read a great book several years ago, Messies No More, and it's a self-help book on decluttering your life. The author provides great tips on getting rid of the stuff in your house or storage unit or wherever you keep your "stuffs" so you can get your house and your life in order. I found it interesting that the author addressed the emotional attachment we have to our stuff. For instance, I could no longer wear a dress I wore in the eighth grade, but it's had some great memories attached to it, so I drug it around from house to house like a security blanket. My Daddy was nominated as Young Businessmen's Man of the Year when I was in the eighth grade. I will confess that the eighth grade was many, many years ago. Mother and Daddy took me to the awards banquet and Daddy bought me this gorgeous lace-covered dress. It was a pastel pink with a lace overlay and I loved it. I felt so special escorting my Daddy to this banquet; even though he didn't win the award, he was my man of the year and every time I saw that dress I remembered how proud I was that night and how special I felt.

It is difficult for me to throw clothes away because I am emotionally attached to them. I remember what I wore on my first date with Danny. I remember what he was wearing. I remember what I wore to the baby shower for my first child. I remember what I was wearing when two boys in my class said some very unkind things about me. For whatever reason, I associate clothes with emotions. But, I know they are just pieces of fabric that have no life in and of themselves; they are the result of someone else's imagination and creativity, not mine, so why the attachment?

I've gotten a whole lot better in the last two or three years about cleaning out my closet. When the racks become too crowded, I remind myself to get in there and throw away what I haven't worn in six months or longer. That really is a good rule of thumb although it can be painful to carry out.

But, one day, I will trade in all of my clothes for a new wardrobe; one that will be as pure as new-fallen snow. One that will be made just for me, custom designed by the greatest Designer of all times, Jesus. He will put a new robe on me that represents his righteousness. God will not be looking at my dress or pantsuit, He'll be looking at His Son's garment of righteousness. I'm sure it will be just the right size, don't you?

I think it's time to get a Salvation Army bag of clothes together. How about you?

God bless.

Rocks in the Box

2009-02-25T09:19:00.000-08:00

As a young boy, my son had a treasure box. In it he kept some baseball cards, a toy car my Daddy had given him, an arrowhead, some Mexican coins and some rocks. I guess it must be a little boy thing to have rocks in your treasure box. He still has that box and the rocks are still there. I still wonder why he chose to put rocks in his treasure box. The answer most likely is: they are special and treasured to him and it's his box, not mine.

That lesson was hard learned and my children may say that I'm still in the process of learning it: their lives are their lives, not mine, and they decide what they will put into them. As a parent, that is difficult to do sometimes, particularly as your children grow and assert their independence and you know their choices are unwise and potentially dangerous. When our children are infants, toddlers and school age, we make conscious decisions concerning what foods our children eat, what doctor will attend to their medical needs, what school (public, private, home school) they will attend and on the list goes. But, at some point, our children start choosing some of those things for themselves and those choices include rocks instead of diamonds and rubies.

Now that I am a Mimi (that's a grandmother) to four grandsons, I see more clearly the importance of guiding the boys to make wise choices; to choose the better over the good, to choose more diamonds than rocks, to listen instead of always talking, to be still instead of always being in motion. I knew that as a mother but somehow it's different with the grandchildren. I guess because I experienced the consequences of our childrens' decisions with them, I can see down the road where picking up a rock instead of a diamond can be disasterous.

However, on the other hand, it might not hurt to have a rock in your treasure box to pull out when things get tough. I know that our son has some street-wise, rock-kind-of-stuff in his life experiences that will help guide his own son one day. Based on the rocks in his own treasure box, he will be able to steer his son in another direction.

Rocks can serve a purpose in our treasure box of life. Rocks can be used to build a solid foundation, a wall of protection. Rocks can also be smoothed away of their rough edges. We had friend at church who was a an amateur gemologist and he had a machine that tumbled rocks and made them smooth. He would take the smooth rocks and make necklaces and other jewelry items out of what started as rough, dull, ugly rocks.

How like God to use the rock tumbler of life to smooth away the ugliness, the bumps and dull places to make something beautiful and useful in His Kingdom. We can find many examples in the Bible of the rough-rock characters that were used mightily by God to fulfill His purpose. He took Moses and his stuttering tongue to speak deliverance for the children of Israel. He took King David and his infidelity and treachery to ultimately be a man after God's own heart. He used impulsive Peter and built his church on his faith. He used a prostitute with a bottle of expensive perfume to teach us to give what we have to God's purposes and it will be used.

Rocks in the box. What treasures do I have in my box that need to feel the tumble of God's gentle hand? How about you? Do you have some rocks you are holding in a clenched fist, hanging on to them for dear life, unwilling to let God smooth them away and make something beautiful? My prayer is that your fingers will relax as you begin the journey of trusting God with all that's in your treasure box, both diamonds and rocks.

God bless.

Treasure boxes

2009-02-24T18:20:00.000-08:00

I have a giant treasure box; it's called a storage unit. I, rather we, have all sorts of things in the storage unit. Some of them are mine and some of them belong to my husband, Danny, and some of them are ours together.

The things that are "mine" include high school year books that hold the admonitions of friends long forgotten to "stay just the way you are forever," "you're the sweetest girl I know," or "good luck to you and Danny," to name a few. The treasured memories of high school are safely tucked away in my heart, outside the pages of a year book. Then there are the college year books that basically carry the same instructions: "you and Danny keep loving each other, you're the sweetest girl I've ever known," and similar comments.

Also included in the storage unit are numerous LP albums of such great music as Smoky Robinson and The Miracles, The Temptations, The Four Tops, and on the list goes. I can hear a song from one of those albums and be immediately transported to a time of first loves and first kisses, a time when things seemed to be much simpler. When I hear the song "My Girl" I remember seeing Melissa and Kenny bopping so smoothly across the dance floor. They were such a cute couple back then and, as far as I know, they are still a cute couple. Music is such a good time machine for us; that's why we should be careful what memories we are linking to music.

Then there are the pictures. Pictures of myself and my brothers and sister as children. Pictures of my grandparents and parents. Pictures of friends and choir tours. Precious memories of special times in my life.

There is a rocking chair tucked into a corner of the storage unit. Danny bought it for me at an antique shop long before we got married. A dear friend of ours owned an antique shop and Danny bought it thinking that we would use it one day to rock our children; and we did. We even rocked our grandchildren in it. Beside the rocking chair is an old waxed coated barrel that was purchased at the same antique store. Another precious friend decoupaged it for us. We always think of Shirley when we visit the barrel in the storage unit.

Why do we hang on to "things" long past their usefulness? Why do we convince ourselves that we'll use it again one day? For me it is because these things are links to a wonderful time in my life. A time when I had few stressors beyond the next test or class project. They represent a life that Danny and I began when we were "mere children," at the ripe old age of 16 and 17. We basically grew up together and have a storage unit full of things to remind us of many of those good times.

My treasure box is certainly full. My life has been so blessed: wonderful parents, grandparents and cousins, brothers and a sister, many friends through the years who have laughed and cried with me, sharing the good and the bad.

But, with all the things in my treasure box, I am reminded of the scripture that tells me that I shouldn't build up for myself treasures here on earth where thieves break in and rust corrupts, but I should be building treasure chests in heaven where no one can touch what I've set aside. I think some of those treasures are the kindnesses I do to others in His name, the kind word that is said in His name, the cup of cold water offered in His name, being the kind of person He wants me to be.

I encourage you to look through your treasure box and see what you find.

God bless.

My First Blog!

2009-02-23T17:30:00.001-08:00

This is my first blog. It probably would not have happened except for the assistance of my daughter-in-love, Misi (actually she did it all). I watched the baby (that's something I can do) while Misi worked her magic. Hopefully I'll be as smart as she is one day and can do my blog all by myself.

I look forward to putting new things in My Alabaster Box; those things are precious and special which will, of course, include many stories about my children and grandchildren.

God bless.