Grief~ Denial, Bargaining, and Guilt

As promised this is the first of my grief counseling for survivors. Not all the stages occur in order within your life and you may experience several at the same time. The order is just a guideline.

Today is about denial, bargaining and guilt. Now don't say you are not going through this because you are. You are just in denial. <G>

At first denial is easy. I spent my first 24-hours in denial. I still go to sleep each night, after a year, hoping to wake up in the morning and finding this has been a bad dream similar to "Dallas." If you are not familiar with this old television show, a whole season was choked up up a bad dream sequence. Well, I can hope can't I. But the next morning I awake and find it wasn't a bad dream. I could deny it all day long if I could lie in bed not moving, thinking, or speaking not that it happens that way. I can only play Ostrich with my head buried in the sand so long before I have to roll over to shift positions or have to pee and then reality sets in. The empty side of the bed or chair.

Eventually nature will call and I'll have to put my AFO and shoes on to toddle off to the toilet. It only works for the short term, but may be intermittent and come and go. Something will always smack you in the face with the reality of the situation.

 "No, I can do it myself!" This statement is a form of denial. In reality, I can't do it myself, but I've got to prove it to me. A painful thing for caregivers to watch. It's a doubled edged sword which often has me in tears of frustration when I finally get it through my thick skull that I can't do it myself. I need the help of another soul to get through this. This has worked for me and against me.


"I'm not listening! LaLaLa!" and "Talk to the hand." When we refuse to listen to others we only hurt ourselves. Sure they might not have the answers either, but if all else fails, they are a sounding board. Granted if you are in depression nobody can stand listening to grunt and groan on the pity pot, but more on that later. Just know that denial is a short protective mechanism of the mind. Realize this. Accept this. Sometimes everyone needs small breaks from reality. Now if your denial lasts for a prolonged period, professional help is advised.


Bargaining- "Lord, please take this burden from me. I'll do this or that better from now on." Or something along these lines, is another natural stage of grief. If you will do this, I'll do that. "I'll stop smoking, lose weight, eat right, do what my doctor says, (insert your own bargaining chip here) from now on, but just make it better."

Honestly we may mean them when we say them, but life has a way of interjecting them back into our lives no matter how hard we try. It's an Indian Giver's promise at best.

After my stroke I promised to stop smoking and then I was discharged home to a house full of nicotine. I was almost violently ill just walking into it. All my clothes, bedding, curtains, carpets, furniture, painted surfaces etc are drenched with the stuff accumulated over the past fifteen years. So I puffed and coughed through a cigarette to just be able to live in my house. I haven't put them away yet.

I started losing weight in the hospital and continued after I got home. I was very incapable of doing much besides the basics of self care. Meals were the TV dinner types. The nuke and eat. Of course with all that processed food entering my body, the weight inched back up. Having a bad heart doesn't help when you can hold thirteen pounds of just extra fluids in your body at any given time. It was frustrating at best. I zigzagged on the scales not knowing if it was fluids or fat. I finally gave up. My allergies went haywire during this time and I couldn't do anything about it.

Starting this Spring brought about better changes. I started gardening again to reduce my allergens. But still my weight was at issue due to my heart. Try as I might and with three cholesterol medicine I couldn't lower my LDLs more than 50 points. I swore off red meats and eating animal based protiens twice a week substituting bean curd, vegetables, and ate rich HDL foods to no avail. It's heredity for me to have high bad cholesterol.

So all in all bargaining and begging doesn't work. No amount of bargaining will change the outcome.

That brings us to guilt. The what-ifs. Now I'm big on what-ifs as a writer. Some of my best stories start off this way. Of course, we are our own worse critics. Nobody can be as hard on themselves as I can be. That's part of my stubborn nature. But all of us have a stubborn streak. It's part of being human, but I got a triple helping when God was handing out this one. I'm worse than a Jewish and Catholic mother combined when it comes to guilt trips and I do it to myself.

If I had done this or that, this would not have happened to me. The fact is, it probably would have. Guilt leads to depression. Guilt leads to low self worth. Guilt leads to you not fighting to get better. Guilt is the root of all evil thoughts and actions.

I had a physical therapist (not my regular one) ask me this week if I did everything in my power to prevent this stroke. I looked at her in shock. Now I had worked through my guilt ridden stage before now so needless to say I didn't need an additional thing to feel guilty about. She said I smoked so I didn't do everything in my power to prevent a stroke. Did the woman fall off the sensitivity truck? But like I always do, I pondered her words.

I thought back to my cousin Ricky who recently died from a stroke. He lived a healthy life style. The number of babies die yearly. They are innocents. Others who have no bad health habits who die young or old each year. No, I'm not helping my body by smoking. Yes, it is a big no-no for people susceptible to stroke or had a stroke.  I accept that risk factor. We all make choices. Accept the choices you made and move on.

I'm fond of saying, "Don't borrow trouble." Until the doctor pronounces the big "C" word, don't worry the whole time while waiting for the results for it to be cancer and how you will react. I got news for you. It won't change the outcome. Guilt is an indicator that you've done something wrong and deserve what is happening to you. Unless you've gotten behind the wheel intoxicated, hit and harmed someone else, it just ain't your fault! Yes, you could have done this or that differently but does it really change what you are going through now? No, not a lick. This is almost a part of bargaining.

It's time to move on. Accept what has happened as an unchangeable fact and go on from here. Because in the grand scheme of your life, this is a small segment. It's what you do from here on out that counts.

Next Sunday is about Anger.

Grief Counseling with a Twist

Any time you suffer a significant loss or have a devastating event happen to you there is a sense of grief. It is not only a death. It can be a mini death of sorts.  For me, the latest besides bereavement for a close cousin, Ricky, and has been an ongoing struggle with grief because of my stroke. And yes, it has been over a year since my stroke. I am doing a similar blog on my writer's blog for stroke survivors on Sundays. For here it's for survivors.

I've actually mentioned the stages of grief in various blogs but I don't think I've ever broken it down like this before. I do know that I charged $100 for grief counseling sessions that lasted twelve weeks in my ministry profession. This is a gimme course that is free so take advantage of it.

So over the next five weeks I'm going to explain to you the stages as it pertains to your recovery. I will give real world examples of what I've gone through, coping skills, and exercises for you to do to gain a level of acceptance in conquering each step. After all, knowledge is power and control. It is something we as survivors rarely feel until we work through the process. Understanding is the key. Think you've mastered it all? You've been a survivor for multiple years and this doesn't pertain to you, think again. I've met dozen of survivors still grappling with these after ten or twenty years. Am I through it all? Yes and no. I'm still bouncing around the steps taking victories where I can as a stroke survivor. There is no quick or easy fix.

I've spent years in grief counseling both as a grief stricken person and as a counselor. So needless to say, I recognized it in my own stroke recovery as well. Grief is an individual process. Your success depends on you.

The Stages

And if you want to carry it farther into seven steps, you can.

Both apply in a case like a stroke. I usually combine Shock and Denial, and Bargaining and Guilt, the Upturn, Reconstruction with Acceptance. So my version is five steps while taking the seven into consideration. Now with death this process takes roughly a year to complete or maybe a little longer. With stroke recovery it may takes years! You may bounce between levels or be on multiple levels at the same time and you may gain acceptance in certain areas faster than others. It is not a linear thing or happen within the order given.

Why should survivors care about this? The ultimate of ultimates of recovery is to be...

•  the best you can be given the circumstances
• a more proactive survivor
• aware that this is going on and it's normal. Isn't it nice to be considered normal. <g>
• forewarned is forearmed

Knowledge is power. Foresight is awesome. Being prepared is everything. Tune in next week for the first installment...Shock and Denial. These will appear Sunday morning as well here.

Keeping faith and sharing the blessings.

My Opinion ~ Paula Deen

I usually stay away from controversial subjects on this blog, but this is one I couldn't let go.

I live just 72 miles south of Paula Deen and her restaurants. I have children who live in Savannah. I have met her on several occasions over the years before and after her Food Network fame. Like her or don't like her is your choice. With her, it's what you see is what you get just like me.

While I might not agree with her on various cooking styles we respect each other.The current hype is her using the N word to describe a black person THIRTY years ago and under duress. All I gotta say is give me a break and cut her some slack.

What southern person over the age of fifty has not used that word once in their life? Even my unracially prejudice mother in law has said it, it is currently used by teens, and even I've said it once or twice in my lifetime. I'm far from prejudice or racially bias being nonwhite myself.

The points...

• She was traumatized at the time. Having a gun pointed in your face would kinda do that, don't you think?
• It was THIRTY years ago
• She could have lied under oath. It wouldn't be the first time someone did it, but she didn't.
• Does her use of that one word damn her for all time, it shouldn't. We all say things that we don't really believe or mean at times.

I've watched the story progress because it is close to home. Not because it's how the mighty fall from grace. She's lost her job with Food Network because of it. She's lost sponsors because of it (Smithfield, WalMart). Granted, it's a small chink in the armor of her multi million dollar enterprise, but still it's asinine.

The NAACP has a campaign going to bury the N word, but lately I've heard it said by persons of color mostly to describe each other. Isn't that an oxymoron? If it's wrong to say, isn't it wrong for everyone to say it? Where is the prejudice or racial bias now? When you hold one race to a different standard than your own, isn't that what the Civil Rights Amendment was all about? Equality for all not dependent on race, sex, or religion?

I'm not saying her use of the N word was right because wrong is wrong, but to punish her for the slur now after THIRTY years is ridiculous. It has no bearing on her present day status. At the time, she was a single mother of two trying to make ends meet just like the rest of us. Why must we tear down the successful to make us feel better?

I don't hide to fact that I was a drug addict or alcoholic in my twenties. Now looking back as I approach my seventies, do I regret it? Nope, I've used that experience to move on and help others. That is far more damaging for a minister and semi-public figure than using the N word. We all have a history and a past. We've all said and done things in our past that we might not be particularly proud of in our past. Let it go and move on. Even Christ said, "Go and sin no more."

Just my quarter for my thoughts.
(It used to be a penny but with time and inflation it raised in value)

Condolences and a Prayer Request

Rick's family in 2003

After I finished posting yesterday, I got a call from my Aunt Viv. My cousin Ricky had a massive stroke.

Now Ricky and I go way back to the cradle almost. He's the same age as my little sister, Janet. Every time we were in country we always stopped at Uncle Ferdy's house before visiting my grandmother.

When we arrived in the States after the fiasco in Ceylon in 1971, that family was the first to welcome us home. We were shell shocked and exhausted both mentally and physically. I remember well how Uncle Ferdy's boys drew us out into some sort of normalcy instead of constantly looking over our shoulders for people trying to kill us. Yes, a lot of Escape from Second Eden is factual and really happened.

Between playing hoops, which now I'm not sure I won all those games against the boys fair and square, and exploring excavation sites, they drew us out and started the healing process. I'll be forever grateful to all of them for that. I lost my lucky elephant hair ring on one of those excursions. Ricky promised to keep looking for it even after we left. He never found it.

I was planning to go down to Jacksonville and play cheerleader for him this weekend. The first road trip for me alone since my stroke. Each day I am thankful to be alive and still able to hug my children and grandchildren since my stroke. I'm constantly reminded of those who are not able to do that. One third of the  million plus a year who suffer strokes are not here anymore. I am, for all my griping and complaining, one of the lucky ones. I am a survivor who can relearn what I lost.

I went to the family website, since we are all stretch across this country and a few others, and read where he had died just after midnight. My heart is heavy for his wife, three daughters, and grandchildren today.

Please send a prayer of comfort for the family he left behind.

Nothing is Impossible and Choices ~ Resignation

This is in part a carry over from my writing blog. What does the belief "nothing is impossible," and "The choice to do or don't" have to do with Christianity?

Everything.

But I will add two deviations here on this blog...Nothing is impossible with determination and faith in the Almighty, and the choice to do or don't is a gift from God called free will.

In my last blog I expanded on belief systems and that even atheists had faith. I know some of you think I was being sacrilegious by saying that. I do read your emails. But basically, I stand on my beliefs. They may not be your beliefs, but I'll allow your choice to see things differently. It is the free will I spoke about above. If God ordained it, who am I to argue?

Nothing is impossible with the faith in God. We may not have the big picture of our lives as God sees it. When my mother was dying of cancer, I prayed feverishly and constantly for God to restore her health. I did this selfishly because I didn't want to lose my mother to heaven. But I actually started listening to her. Her greatest wish was for her to sit on her Big Daddy's lap and talk about all her unanswered questions.

At that point my prayers changed. I prayed for the Holy Spirit to comfort me and mine for the times that would surely come when He took her Home. And come they did, she died within thirty days. The child in me, strove with determined effort to keep her with me, but the faithful side of me realized the truth.

Free will is a double edged sword. When we make choices in our lives as Christians, we judge the goodness or badness of that decision by our Spirit. If it is a good choice, the Spirit will give comfort and further insight to face what comes. If the choice is bad, our Spirit will quake and doubts will set in.

I have come to realize, wisdom born of pain, that even when we make bad choices hope remains. Yes, there will be consequences for the bad choice, but in the overall scheme of things faith will carry you though. God is forever faithful.

By Whatever Name

I know it's been a while since I posted. The entire month of April and half of May zipped by with life getting in the way of me posting, but not my faith although it has taken some bad blows. But I'm still here.

The key to doing anything in life is to keep going. If you've read my blog for any length of time you may have found out a few things about me...

• I believe in a higher power
• I'm too stubborn to give up
• I'm too mean to let sleeping dogs lie
• Nothing is impossible

Yes, I'm a Christian by choice. I've studied a multitude of religions over my decades on this earth. And whether you call that higher power-Jesus, Yhwh, Buddha, Mohammed, or by any other name you are still a believer. Even an atheist believes something...there is no God. From that belief, you gain power and faith in your conviction. Sounds strange from a minister right? I believe in love and commitment in whatever form it takes. I don't point fingers and say you are wrong. Who am I to judge others?

Nobody, that's who.

I have a set of beliefs in place that works for me. In the grand scheme of things, isn't that what really matters?

I will talk and befriend homosexuals, adulterer, fornicators, atheists, and a host of others. Isn't that what Christ did? I will them them my point of view, based on my belief system in place that I believe that if they continue in their practice, they will go to hell. Yes! If they can get past that, then a friendship can develop. I simply do not judge the behaviors of others.

I know the Bible teaches, "Cast not your pearls before swine" and "...brush the dust from your sandals," but if I were to to do that would cause me to judge. As a Christian in a world of sin, I lead by example. In my belief system, the number one priority is ...love one another. I also know that change begins within. I cannot change anyone. I can only show them the way.

Food for Thought ~ Blessings

As you face the adversities of life, remember God is WITH you. I watched this beautiful video on the Stroke Tattler blog on Blogspot this morning and had to share. I couldn't have said it better myself. Even though it is titled Secrets of Old Age, it's a lesson we all should keep in mind daily. Enlarge it to full screen because some of the words are tiny.

Be blessed, oh Blessed be.

Today, I was going through my blog roll and hit a "friend" who was in turmoil. Les Floyd is facing the demise of his mother.

I have to say that I've walked in his shoes. Losing a parent is everyone's greatest fear who's had a loving parent. Now for the rest of the story...

The year was 1988. My mother had a sore throat and went to her family practice doctor. No big deal, right? The doctor looked down her throat, felt her lymph nodes, and palpated around her throat and then focused his attention on her thyroid. He focused so long on the area her skin had actually started to turn red.

Concerned, I asked him what he was feeling. He said their was a knot about the size of a kernel of popcorn. He invited me to feel and sure enough, there was one. Given my mother's history, surviving the Nagasaki atomic bomb, he recommended a surgical consult. He would have done the surgery himself but he was healing after a broken hip fracture from a car accident.

So off we went to the surgeon. The surgeon diagnosed it as a thyroid goiter and my mother left armed with a prescription for iodine tablets. We all breathed a sigh of relief that it wasn't cancer which killed 100% of all atomic blast survivors. At that time we trusted doctors. After all, they spent years in school learning so they had to be smarter than us, right? Wrong with deadly consequences.

Three months later, we were back in the family practice doctor's office for a routine appointment. He look at her neck expecting to see a scar which there was none. He felt her neck and excused himself. He must of went straight to his office and got on the phone to the surgeon because we could hear him yelling. The words that engraved themselves on my mind forever more were, "incompetence," "larger," and "surgery now."

We were living in a dream world of hunky- dorry for three months believing this other doctor. Now all my fears were realized and soon would be fact. My mother underwent surgery for a thyroid removal within a week. I was at work in the E.R. The surgeon came and found me. I had been dealing with doctors for almost twenty years at this point and one look at his face and I knew all had not gone well.

"We have to wait for the report, but the tumor has invaded her thyroid, parathyroid, and her larynx. I scraped what I could off the larynx to save her voice."

Wait a minute. We went from a simple thyroid goiter to tumor that invaded? The big "C" now entered the picture. His next words were lost for the most part in my brain while it muddled through the information I was given. All except his words, " I'm sorry. I should have listened better."

He walked back to post-op and his next surgery while I was left with my new awakening. I made two calls before I returned to work. The first one was to my father at work and I filled him in on what the surgeon said. The next one was to my family practice doctor. I have to say after that I buried myself in my work trying not to think of the consequences of the surgeon's words.

By the time I got off work, a plan of action was formed but I needed to talk to my family first. We had wasted three month already and could not waste anymore time. My mother would remain in the hospital for further tests instead of being released the next day. I went ahead and made all the arrangements because I knew my father or mother wouldn't object. That was one perk of working at the hospital, I had abundant resources available.

Thyroid cancer is one of the easiest forms of cancer to cure when it is caught early. In three months we'd gone from a kernel of popcorn to metastasis. So regardless of what the pathology report showed, it was time for action and fast. Decision had to be made and questions answered from my family. I knew they were counting on me. It was a two-ton boulder of weight resting on my shoulders.

The first reaction from my father, sisters and brothers was shock. Then came the questions but I was armed with some answers. My father was grateful. Then came the flurry of trips daily to the Mayo clinic in Jacksonville, seventy-five miles one-way away. Another surgery and heavy duty radiation treatments for three more months.

Finally we were were referred to a local oncologist. "Thirty to sixty days." Despite all our efforts the metastasis had invaded her lungs fully, wrapped itself around her carotid artery and her brain. Now all that was left was the death vigil by the family except for me. I was the nurse and caregiver. I arranged the morphine, delaudid and phenegran. I gave the injection, monitored vital and conditions, and only cried when I was in my bed alone at night for a few short hours. I had quit my job at the hospital because when working with cancer patients in post-op circumstances, I couldn't keep my personal life from invading my professional one plus my mother and family needed me.

I pushed all feelings aside while dealing with my family and my mother's care. I stuffed my emotions and became a automaton doing what needed to be done. My family leaned on me for support so I had to keep it together. Until the day finally came to past.

I received a call from my father who had taken my mother to our family doctor for an insertion of a peg tube for feeding. I had spent hours during my mother during her lucid periods explaining the benefits. We had spent many hours discussing what she wanted and didn't want. A Do Not Resistant order was written and signed. I knew her wishes. Discussions about organ donation and who got what of her personal belongings. In reality they were snippets of conversations over days. Nothing personal about my feelings for her, it was basically clinical and social work.

On the day of her doctor's appointment I had a parent- teacher conference and some other things to do that couldn't wait another minute to be resolved. At the time my mind was going a million miles a second and I was slightly irritated that my father couldn't handle one simple thing without me until he said, "Your mother stopped breathing."

In disbelief, I asked a bunch of questions and I realized he was crying. The child in me got scared. I'd only seen my father cry on two occasions. Him being a former Marine and a man, real men didn't cry. He said she started breathing again on her own and was transported to the ER.

I quickly arranged for someone to watch my children and drove to the hospital. The ER doctor pulled me aside and showed me her x-ray of her lungs. How she had kept breathing was a mystery to me because she only had quarter sizes pieces of lungs that were not consumed by the cancer. He suggested this and that which I refused because she didn't want it.

The hardest moment came when my father with tears in his eyes said, "Please, Joey let them do it." I had tears in my eyes when I shook my head no. If this was the last thing a child could do for her mother, I was going to respect her wishes. She didn't want a ventilator. I brushed her bangs out of her eyes, applied the ointment in her eyes and taped them shut. When another nurse tried to interfere, one look told her to back off. She was admitted to a room upstairs to finish the waiting game.

I went home after giving the hospital a copy of her living will with instructions to call me before doing anything else to her. I knew the nurses on the floor would do it and offer compassion to my father while he waited beside her bed. I was one of them. I would do the same if the situation had been reversed. Now I had to go home and prepare my children for their grandmother's death. It wasn't a question of when, it was a surety within twenty-four hours. I had heard the death rattle in each breath she took before I left.

When the phone rang at 4 AM I knew before I picked up the receiver. She was gone. My husband tried to hold me, but I shook him off, got dressed and drove to the hospital. Her fight was over. It took me until right after the funeral to finally be the child who lost their mother. I exploded with anger fueled by grief at my father how I had been voluntarily forced into the role of constant caregiver and decision maker squandering the little time I had left with my mother.

"Joey, I never realized. You're too damned dependable," he told me after I helped him up from the physical punch I'd gave him.

You know what. He's right. I'm too damned dependable, and still am. But lesson learned, I realized how short life really was. My mother was only fifty-six when she passed this life for the next. Never again would I let circumstances stand in the way of letting everyone know how I really feel. Never.Now you know the rest of the story. Now you know why I'm the way that I am.

Adversity and Hope

We all face adversity at sometimes in our lives. It is what we do when faced with the trials that defines us.

I, myself, am going through one now as God teaches me patience. My stroke was devastating to me because God put me in a box. I couldn't move, literally and figuratively, in any direction. The things I loved doing were taken away except reading. Of course my ability to read was in tact, I couldn't read His Word if it wasn't. That alone was a Saving Grace.

Remember I said that I don't go out and publicly seek those who need God, but God has His way of putting them in my path? A case in point even now. Recently, I met another soul going through an adversity. He was raising a son with cerebral palsy. This son had a dream to go to college. Like any good father, Nick, sought to support his dream. Same as our Heavenly Father does with all of us.

Now, Nick being a writer and blogger reached out to his readers, writers, and fellow bloggers with a plan to fulfill his son's dream. He organized a blog hop asking fellow blog writers to post on how they overcome adversity in their life. Since I do this regularly on this and my other blog for writers. I gave him permission to waive the copyright on my blogs to use which ever one he wanted. He published a book where the proceeds go to pay for his son's college. It launches today!

Now inspiration comes from all sources, but ultimately it comes from God. Remember when God or Satan closes a door, Our Father always opens a window. Sometimes this window is a book written by others that shows you the way.

Blurb:
A collection of seventy moving and uplifting original pieces - real life, flash fiction, and poetry - about battling against the odds and the ultimate triumph of the human spirit. The contributors include Amazon bestselling authors Alex J. Cavanaugh and Kyra Lennon, and the cream of upcoming talent.

The anthology is part of a fundraising effort to send the editor's stepson, Andrew McNaughton, to a specialist college in England. Andrew has cerebral palsy, and is a remarkable young man with a promising future. However, the free further education options offered in his own country of Scotland will not challenge him and allow him to progress. In order to access the education he deserves, Andrew will have to pay exorbitant fees, thus creating a situation of discrimination.

Help us get Andrew to college by buying a book that runs the full gamut of human emotions, ultimately leaving you inspired and glad to be alive. Whatever struggles you are going through, our sincere hope is that this book will help.

Purchase Links:
Amazon UK
Amazon US
Smashwords
Goodreads 

Editor Bio: Nick Wilford is a writer and stay-at-home dad. Once a journalist, he now makes use of those rare times when the house is quiet to explore the realms of fiction. When not writing he can usually be found spending time with his family or cleaning something. He has four short stories published in Writer’s Muse magazine. Nick is also co-running a campaign to get a dedicated specialist college built in Scotland. Visit him at http://nickwilford.blogspot.co.uk/.

At $2.99 for a digital copy he will need to sell thousands and we wish him luck.

Lost and Found- God's Timepiece

As I sit here in front of my computer screen this fine but chilly Sunday morning, I'm mentally at a loss of what to be thankful for. Yes, I'm thankful for being alive, but am I really?

My momma always called God her Big Daddy. She often said while she was alive that she couldn't wait until she sat on her Big Daddy's lap to talk to him in person. She was a firm believer. HE was her everything. The ultimate in power and love.

Simplistic her her views of God, but oh, so powerful of an image. So am I thankful for being alive and kicking? Not really. I could be like her sitting on her Big Daddy's lap and receiving the ultimate, unconditional love. In fact, it makes me kind of sad that I'm not. The love we experience in this life is nothing but a substitute for what awaits us in Heaven.

Do I have a death wish? Yes and no. While I might want to go to Heaven, I'm not in a rush to get there. It's not my time by my Heavenly Father's time piece. God's time tends to be a mystery to us humans living on the earthly plane.

God's time versus our time. I recently watched a movie called "The Genesis Code" which explained the difference between science fact versus the biblical time frame and why they are at odds. Granted it's only a movie, but in essence it explain and marries the two times into our understanding the difference. Good movie. Go rent it today if you can. The old mathematician and science geek in me was satisfied with their answer somewhat.

On the down side, it brushes over quite a bit of both scientific and Bible based knowledge, but it is only a movie. What I took from the movie was simple. It's all about perception and perspective. We always say, "God's will," or God's time" without fully understanding it. Will we ever? Yes, one day. All the answers to our questions will be answered in God's time and not in our time.

So I'll continue on my trek through this earthly realm until my time equals God's time. It will happen eventually.

Blessed be because I am.

Are You Frustrated with Your Life?

Frustration is something we all experience it at some time in our lives. That feeling that no matter what you do or try it just isn't working. The want to pull your hair out, want to runaway and hide until its all over. You know that feeling, right?

You can get frustrated with things like your job, your writing, your life, your situation, your finances, you're not succeeding, and people around you (some you don't even know). There are a thousand things in this world to frustrate you and trip you up in your Christian walk.

Notice one thing that is repeated in the above paragraph? It's Y-O-U or a variation of it. It's your frustration. It's all about you and things not going the way you want it to. How you feel about things. How you interact with situations around you. The only one who can change that is Y-O-U. Even with the help of the Holy Spirit, you can't change overnight...it takes time.

Isn't that the same thing as self pity? No, it's different. No, it's the same thing. So get off the pity pot already somebody else wants to use it!

I hear you. I've spent considerable amount of time on the pity pot myself with trying to get a handle on the feelings accompanied by my stroke and life in general. I've had a pretty hard reality setback with my stroke, but there are stroke survivors who have it much worse than me out there. My grandmother was stricken with seven strokes throughout her life. It gradually took everything away from her until she was almost in a vegetative state before she died with the seventh over five years in the progression.

Now for the fix, or some ways to stop frustration. This worked for me and it was years in the learning. God is teaching me patience with this added malady.

• Step away from what is frustrating you. Even if it is going into another room.
• Do something else not related to what you were doing. Continuing to punish yourself by keeping at it just makes the frustration worse.
• Remember it can always be worse. For me when I feel myself slipping into a rut I'll remember a friend who is in worse financial, physical or emotional straits than me. You'll smaller after feeling frustrated by such petty things that frustrated you in the first place.
• Find the root cause of why you are feelings frustrated. It may be something deeper than what you are frustrated with at the moment.
• Make your expectations smaller. A lot of times we expect too much from ourselves and set ourselves up for failure
• Focus Smaller. Stop trying to fix the world's problem. Settle for a smaller thing you can do to make it better today. Just today.
• Simplify. Don't try something that takes fifty gazillion steps, if you've never done it before. Think of a jigsaw puzzle. When you were putting one together for the first time you didn't start out with a 1000 piece puzzle or a 3-D. You worked up to it.
• Allow yourself to fail attempts. Recognize that the first ten times you are not going to get it perfect. Learn from the failed attempts and make all new ones.
• You are not alone. Take a look around you. There will be others.
• Be kinder to yourself. Think of all the muscles it takes to frown, how blotchy your face looks after a crying jag, How your screaming and yelling scares the neighbors, and how you will have to replace whatever you break.

I've just given you ten ways to stop frustration in its tracks. I don't expect you to do all of them at one time. Make a conscious effort to do one a week. In ten weeks you will be frustration free. Well maybe not totally, but you will be better armed against those feelings when you feel it start to well up inside you.

May the peace of the Lord be with you.

A Blessing or a Curse ~ It Depends on Your Point of View

Happy 2013 y'all. I thought I'd share something that might make your life a little easier. It's call having faith and realize that your perception of situations is only an error in your point of view.

Several years ago, I met a woman who wore one of those round pins like campaign buttons or a smilie face. It was about three inches around so you could read it from a distance. I know you have all seen something similar.
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What stuck me at the time was the genuine smile on her face. She actually believed it.

At this time, my husband was in the hospital for the umpteenth time. I had spent more hours in the hospital than when I had worked there. God was working on me with trusting Him. The doctors had used the words "cancer," "failing heart," "severe COPD," and 'terminal." The last thing I wanted to see was this woman's smiling face and her dagnabit button. The thought that this woman hadn't walked a mile in my shoes came to mind. I just wanted to skulk off in a corner and stew in my own misery for a while. The burden of "carrying on" was just too heavy. I was surely cursed.

God had other things in store for me. This is a low point in my life and He showed me His love everlasting. I had faith in my Holy Father, believed I was washed in the Blood, and had professed to all that would listen "I am Saved." But still I was heavyhearted at the prospect of losing my soul mate. Surely my Heavenly Father wouldn't take this joy from my life. If He did, what was the sense in loving a God like that?

I sat at a small table in the hospital cafeteria and ate my salad like an automaton. My body language dared anyone to approach me even old friends who still worked there. Like Greta Garbo, "I vanted to be left alone." But no, God put this woman beside me. She was the kindly grandmother type. Now, that's a laugh because usually that is used to describe me. I took her little button and smiling face as affront to the pain and anger I was feeling.

She reached over and patted my arm in a gentle fashion that only a southern old lady can do. "It will be okay."

How was this going to be okay, my mind revolted. I gave her a rather rude snort. Nothing was going to be okay ever again.

She got up to leave. "It's all your point of view. It will be okay."
Then she was gone and in all my years since, I've never seen her again.

I thought long and hard about her words ever since that day. I realized she was right. It's perception to any given situation that makes horrendous situations a blessing or a curse. It was a revelation.

Yes, but is this a curse?

• My husband is terminal with cancer which has metastasized to his lungs. The doctor gave his life expectancy at that point between 3-6 months.
• My husband has a weak heart and can barely lift 10 lbs.
• My husband also has bad lungs and can barely walk ten feet without gasping for breath.
• Our home looks like a partitioned hospital room with all the equipment and medicines.

Nope, it's a blessing.

• That hospitalization was four years ago and he's still with me. I've come to realize that each second he's with me is a blessing. 
• I know him better having spending every second I could with him than I did in the first ten years of our marriage. We just celebrated our twentieth wedding anniversary.
• We share a closer relationship because of what we've been through.
• God is still in control. Man's time is not God's time.
• I am counting blessing instead of trials.
• I'm stronger in faith because of this lesson my Father has taught me.

It all depends on your point of view. The choice is yours.

Congratulations! We Survived!

Nope, just kidding! Fooled you.

We survived the Mayans' prediction of the end of the world! If you can't read this, I'm wrong.

"Nope, just kidding. Fooled you," said the Mayan priest as he smoked his wacky weed in his pipe. "I just ran out of stone to carve a new calendar. It's not like I can run out to my local market and get some."

Mayan priest smoking

Of course there have been tons of predictions as to where life as we know it will end. All of them have been proved wrong when the next day happens. Isn't that the way false prophets work? They get followers to believe that life as you know it will happen at a certain date and time, but the fact is NOBODY truly knows. This is gospel. It's in the Word. Why should you listen to false prophets? God is perfectly able to speak to you directly with Christ as the liaison, and the Holy Spirit as the real interpreter.

The Bible

Even the bible talks about the end of times, but doesn't give a specific time reference. There will be "signs." The problem with signs is that many things can be misinterpreted as signs. For generations, this calamity or that has been read as signs that the end is nigh. But in reality they were, albeit frightening, were just events that meant nothing. When the true end-is-nigh is about to occur, God will have to put it in bold, neon lights in the sky before I'll believe man's predictions.

Y2K was going to change the world as we know it. But some savvy computer programmer, <cough> like me, figured out that changing two lines of code would save computing as we know it. Financial institutions, the stock markets, and businesses all operated as normal on 1/1/00. For those that couldn't afford services like mine, they simply set their computer's internal clocks back ten or twenty years. Many cults staged mass suicides, and made pacts. But the fact is, Y2K changed virtually nothing. It came and went by.

I've got a secret

NASA assured us, in the face of the financial cliff in our economy, that no asteroid or other planet was going to hit us. There were no warning signs that the Earth was going to up end on its axis. With the technology today, surely someone would have leaked a story somehow. All the conspiracy theorists in the world projecting the end is just that theories. Even my dog can have theories of what is going to happen, and I'd trust my dog better than any stranger. That's not saying much because she will jump in the bathtub at the first rumble of thunder.

Now will bad things continue to happen? Most definitely. Someone with a gun or a knife will continue to kill innocent babies. People will still lie, cheat, and steal. The economy will be shaky, and then rise. People will become homeless, starve to death, and put through the wringer of life. Because that's what it is... life. Be thankful for this life no matter what it brings. Not everything will be sunshine, lollipops, and roses. Just like everything will not be storm clouds, rainy days, and weeds.

All I know for sure is when my Master calls I'm going home. Have a safe and joyous holiday season. See you again next year.

Retrospective and Thankful.

Since my stroke in May, I've had plenty of time to think and read other stroke survivor's blogs. I ran across THIS this week and thought I would share it with you all. It's all about what some has learned in retrospective and rarely as a person do we take time to think about it. This is wisdom born of suffering.

As a pastor, I often look at things in life retrospectively. This month being the anniversary of the birth of our Lord and Savior is a time to be thankful for the life after He assures us. Many of us are rushing around buying gifts that will be broken, used up, gathering dust,  and forgotten in the months to come, that we often forget to slow down and think how important this ultimate gift is. All the blessings we have received throughout the year that we have received.

How many of us would have carried on when we have nothing in life to look forward to than suffering, pain, persecution, and death? Christ did. If we don't value the lessons in life that He taught us along the way, isn't that another way of adding insult to injury, and a wasted life? Would you want to be the one that told Christ that He wasted His life for your salvation for a life ever after?

Not me. I won't live in fear of a wasted life. Everyday counts and even every minute counts or accounts for something. Make your life worth something. During this busy holiday season whether it's Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, Ashura, or Christmas, take the time to look at the lessons you've learned and be thankful.

November= Thankfulness

This is November and it almost marks six month since my stroke. It's time to be thankful for the blessings the Lord has given us. Not that everyday, you shouldn't be thankful.

Thanksgiving always reminds people of their Heavenly Father and giving thanks. I don't know about you, but once a year is not enough.

So today I'm thankful, and almost regretful that I'm still on this earth. My stroke could have killed me, but I'm still here. Damaged, but grateful because I'm still able to function in some form of ministry. Challenged, but grateful because everyday things are not my previous normal self. Paralyzed on one side, but grateful because I can still do most things within limits. Mostly, I'm grateful that I can show others by example that there can be life after a stroke even God's love and mercy.

Giving praise and glory to the Lord pleases Him. That's all being thankful really is. Although I am writing this near Thanksgiving, I suggest you plan on being thankful everyday not just one day out of a year. It magnifies His blessings.

I always speak of blessings. Otherwise the antonym is a curse. Abundant blessings have enriched my life and it should enrich yours. Have you ever been with someone who is always negative? Do you want to be? Probably not.After a very short while you start to get depressed. But speak of blessings....you draw a crowd. Some will feel fortunate to be around you. They will see the blessings they may not have seen before. Yes, living a blessings filled life is not easy, but it's a choice.

So what has God done for you lately? Open you mind and your heart.

All Hallows Eve~Cussing and Leading by Example

Halloween is fast approaching. Whether you believe in spirits that walk the Earth, witches, zombies, mummies, or a one of a thousand things that go bump in the night. It's All Hallows Eve. It's a harvest festival that denotes the end of summer. Whether it's remembrances of souls past or trick or treating, it's the thought that counts.

Last year it was my honor to officiate a zombie wedding. Yes, a Christian ceremony with contemporary wording of love, commitment, and faith. It seems hard to believe, but it was truly a joining of two souls in a extra special way.

When you harvest souls for Christ it's a 24/7 job throughout the years. Leading by example is my favorite way of bringing a soul into the Kingdom. It brings to mind two of my favorite sermons. One on cussing and the other leading by example. Don't start dozing they are abbreviated.

While I still have not officially returned to my ministerial duties, I lead by example in everyday living. I'm far from perfect. I swear although I do not use God's name in vain. My previous pastor of my church constantly said, "Lord, give me strength!" While not necessarily a cuss...it was the way it it said that mattered. He always used this phrase when aggravated which made it sound like a cuss statement. Even made up phrases like my favorite "razzle frazzle" is cussing.

The Good Book says to be cautious what comes out of your mouth. Remember in the movie "Star Wars" and the Ewoks. Although it sounded like a made up language, it was similar to an African dialect. Everything that comes out of your mouth even if it gibberish can be cussing. Think about it. Anything can be a cuss word or phrase. It it depends on how it is used and what it means to you inside. God only cares about you beneath the skin.

When I was leaving therapy one day last week, I saw a woman point to me and tell her friend I was her inspiration. I stopped and asked her why. She explained how she had been watching me during therapy and my strength in attempting every task they (the therapists) gave me. She went on further to say that I had a smile on my face while doing it.

Now I might not always be smiling but I am willing to learn what will help me heal and will try anything. Believe me after riding a stationary bike up and down hills for 30 minutes, the only thing I'm smiling about is getting off that blasted bike! Yes, that was a cuss!

I need to explain about this woman. She is about ten years older than I am and only has one leg. I look at her and am thankful that I only had a stroke and did not lose my leg below the knee. There by the grace of God, go I, I thought when I first saw them fit her with her prostheses. I later told her I was a minister who believes in leading by example. The glory goes to God so don't look to me for inspiration, but draw from the abundant love of the Father.

It's all about perception. Like I said about my experience in the rehab hospital, I'm a cheerleader in a five-foot, 165 lb body. No, not the cartwheel, splits, and pyramid building kind, but the praise and encouragement kind. I may or may not have walked a mile in their shoes, but I can cheer at the little accomplishment in a big way. After a few weeks in therapy, I heard others encouraging others along with me. One man serenaded us with praises in hymns. I saw people giving other virtually strangers before, talking and encouraging each other. They were spreading the love of Christ. Instead of being down trodden...they were uplifted. A renewed energy filled the therapy room then after. This is the love passed on to others. It's leading by example and it's contagious. Pass it on.

Have you shared the love of Christ today?

Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder

I do not have many followers on this site. That's a fact,but you might have noticed that I have not posted in a long time. Some of you may know I also write a blog about writing and the writing life over at jomurphey dot blogspot dot com too. Yes, I wear many hats in this life. Original intentions for this blog was once a month. It was to be an uplifting place full of fun, faith, and life fulfilling.

That was my intention and you know what they say about good intentions. Well, it's true. Some devastating things have occurred in my personal life.

My husband's health took a turn for the worst.  When your spouse is diagnosed as terminal, every day life takes on a whole new meaning. Each day is precious because someone official says there is no hope, no chance of survival, and the only treatment left is comfort. Some times they even put a time frame based on THEIR knowledge. For my husband that date was eight years ago. Do not be concerned with man's time. It's God's time. Let me tell you that there is a big difference in the concept of time between the two. We just coast through and enjoy each other with whatever moments we have. We share each day whether it's talking about concerns we have, politics, jokes, family, but mostly faith. It is our personal assurance that God holds the reins in our lives. 

You know what Murphy's Law says...whatever can go wrong-will. I had a stroke which left me paralyzed on my dominant right side. I am currently in out patient therapy a couple days a week. It was the suddenness that shocked me. It wasn't an instant now you have it; now you don't. But a gradual loss over hours and days as brain cells starved and died which led me to where I am. But still a loss is a loss with numerous adjustments. Life is about adaptation and faith can  AND will carry you through.

I searched my soul for a reason God gave me this trial. Not all bad things are from Satan. I know that Satan may have had a hand in it but the Glory and the learning experience credit goes to God. What had I not learned in all the trials in my life...patience. I have always got the job done. Whether it was being a single mom of four, having two disabled children, taking care of passing loved ones and the families, and whatever. Faith and love I had in abundance, and still do. I see it in my grandchildren eyes or when my husband opens his eyes, realizes it's me sitting beside him, and he smiles through his pain.

I had to have my children go through my appointment book and cancel every single wedding and counseling session, classes, and book signings for the rest of the year. You see, I also lost my ability to speak and swallow. Mentally I can't spell without a spell checker working which I despise, grammar is history except for the basics, math is a thing for calculators, and when asked by a therapist (who also got some of my speech back) the opening lines of my favorite wedding...I couldn't remember although I used it over a thousand times.

In God's work, I do not go door to door or even have my own church. The Lord has a way of putting people in my path who have a need or  many. I never know in advance, they just appear before me so I'm constantly looking. My stroke was no exception. Just like a business plan there are short and long term goals. God's work is the same, and don't ever doubt it. I knew in purpose for my stroke was learning patience that was a long term goal because recovering can take years. As stubborn as I am, it might take me that long to learn it. It was the short term goal I couldn't see until four days before my release from the intensive rehab program.

During rehab session, think five hours a day of hard work, there were others who had joint replacements, accidents, strokes and all manner of problems trying to learn to do something they couldn't up until a few days or weeks ago...like me. I became the head cheerleader coaxing others to work harder, stretch further, give it their all so they could go home. You see God had already given me the previous knowledge of  what they were going through and how hard it was. I had them realize their own accomplishments. Made them acknowledge therapy was working so they could go home. I was spreading the love of the Lord to all. Sharing faith and encouragement thereby increasing my own.

Four days before I was released to go home, the patient care tech put a man at my breakfast table. Like me he'd had a stroke. Unlike me, this was his second having fully recovered from his first one years earlier. The second stroke did considerable more damage. He was unable to talk and was now wheelchair bound with no movement on one side. He was spared his dominant side unlike me. He changed the channel on the remote to a Christian station and was bobbing his head to the words spoken. This was my short term mission. Breakfast was brought in. The aide opened everything for him and I watched while they fed him the dreaded puree diet. He could nod his head yes and no but wouldn't even try to talk. In the middle of breakfast he broke down in tears. He took the towel they were using as a bib to wipe his face.

I waved the aide off with look and began talking to him. It was to be his first day of therapy. I told him it was okay to cry because he thought of himself less than a man and useless. There are times for tears, grief, and even self pity, but to limit the time to less than fifteen minutes an episode. It was time to work to get his life back and that's why he was here. He nodded and was rolled down to the therapy session. I reminded him every time I saw him break down by simply touching his arm in a gentle pat.

I had told him I was worse than him when I was admitted, but look at me now. I had learned how to swallow, mostly stopped drooling, was in underwear, I could walk with a walker but the wheelchair was quicker, But I still had  no use of my arm. I demonstrated this by picking it up with my unaffected side and dropping it on the table. While weakened he had use of two fingers and his wrist, and shoulder on his affected side. I told him that I had much farther to go than him. He gave me a lopsided smile, his first. since the stroke.

By the second day after his arrival, he was more confident. I met his wife and family, and some of his friends and pastor. They already knew I was one and the nurses had told them that I was working with him. From personal experience with my own husband, I knew the male ego is a fragile thing. I would ask what he did in therapy and he would motion, by the motions I could tell what he was doing because I had been there and done the very same thing. He would nod when I guessed right. Two things happened that were significant that morning. 1) one he made three guttural sounds for words, and 2) he tried to feed himself. These were milestones. I praised him profusely for his efforts. When the aide tried to feed him I shook my head no at her. "Let him try."  It was a messy process but I watched as he mixed his sausage into his grits, picked up the open packets of salt and pepper and pour them in clumps on his food. It was just the way he ate it at home according to his wife. He had some problems with opening his yogurt and I showed him how I did it. I picked up my spoon and punched the top allowing a bigger area the pull. It was a major accomplishment day for him. The aide sat back and watched in awe. For over a week they had been feeding this man.

By the third day, the tears had almost ceased. The confidence and pride shone in his eyes. He was actively fighting to get his life back. He also told me  his name. I already knew because I asked the nurse, but I truly hate calling people by their last name. It's respectful, but unfriendly. He was walking and eating. He was more actively engaging in things going on around him. I told to always remember...fear and faith cannot live in the same body. To not give up because like any good parent, God did not want second best for HIS children. These were the words I received in my morning prayers about him...or I thought it was about him, but they also applied to me.

The next day was my discharge day. The man had a therapy session before me. I had missed our morning meeting because of my final assisted shower. I rolled into rehab and our eyes met. "Good Morning," he said to me. I couldn't have been prouder if he had been one of my own kids. Like so many I minister to that the Lord puts in my path, I was discharged and went home never to hear any more about him. Gone, but not forgotten. My life is truly blessed and enriched by these occurrences. God knows how to use me best.

It has taken me an hour to type this blog, but I think it is worth it. I have made many friends over the years who have offered assistance. The one thing I ask for is prayers. I have the willpower and faith to recover even if it's not totally. I am after all a realist. Miracles happen every day and I believe in prayer. I have never prayed for myself in all the decades of faith, but have continually prayed for others. Why, you ask. Because God sees what I need and supplies it. It's guaranteed.

Hellish Weekend

Okay so it wasn't totally hell, but most trying. As some of you know, I'm a minister. I do quite a few wedding during the week as a job, not to mention filling in for sick or vacationing pastors, and other pastoral duties. This week and weekend was no exception. I performed ten weddings this week, eighteen hospital visitation, and services on Sunday morning in a town about 45 minutes away from home. Nothing really out of the ordinary, except for a few hitches. It was the hitches that made things go from bad to worse.

I usually confirm with my couples a couple of days before their wedding to location, time, and place. No big issues or surprises. I performed three weddings on Saturday and after a very long day I arrived at the scene for my last wedding, sunset at the lighthouse. Nothing unusual about the setting or the time. I'll go anywhere the bride and groom want. The problem was their cell phones were set to voice mail and after waiting for over an hour, they still had not showed. No explanation or anything. Now, it's Monday and still nothing. It was a waste  of my time...well not a total waste, I did get to enjoy the beach breezes.

Sunday was my first wedding at the five star resort in my county. I was excited and nervous. Yeah, I wasn't the one getting married but I was nervous. I was called thirty minutes, as I was heading out the door, before the wedding and was told that the venue had changed because of the weather. Now, I personalize the service I write for each wedding for each couple. I was scrambling to make the changes in my text.

I arrived and the valet parked my car. That's also getting lost along the way because it had been so long since I'd been over to this little island. I was met by the wedding planner for the resort. While outwardly friendly, she was very controlling which I guess was ideal for a wedding planner. It was something I did not expect at the eleventh hour. Another thing I wasn't told about was a planned sequence of service and music. Usually, when special music is involved I do hold a rehearsal so everyone can be on the same page...this was fifteen minutes before the service.  No time for anything and definitely not enough time for surprises like this. Everyone was in formal attire besides me, the minister, which made me feel even more out of place.


I do my very best to cater to my bride and groom. To let the bride have the wedding of their dreams, but really...a heads up would have been nice.

Minister Needing a Minister

This Sunday I read in the Georgia Times Union about ministers getting burned out. It's true. Many do not realize that ministry is a 24/7/365 endeavor and it lasts for decades. All hours of the day and night, the phone can ring and you'll be off to this or that place to comfort, assist, or support someone. A bride will change locations for her wedding a few days before the event or change the entire ceremony. You may have only gotten two hours of sleep in the past twenty-four hours, but it does not matter you are on call constantly. Even vacations or days off can be circumvented by someone in need. It is a selfless calling, but you, as a minister, do it without hesitation.

So how does a minister avoid burn-out? Good question. Yes, the ministry is a calling. Yes, you expect God to give you the strength to do it all, but what happens when the Spirit is willing and the body is weak?

I've spoken at length with my own minister about this very thing. Yes, even though I am a pastor, I have a pastor. This helps beyond belief. Yes, we are expected to take our problems straight to the man upstairs in prayer. Yes, I do do this, but still it is a comfort to have another human listening for that instant feedback. Sometimes Our Heavenly Father doesn't answer immediately. I am after all, human and have needs. Two true believers are better than one.

I firmly believe in the promises God made to me and reinforced by His Son. He promised a roof over my head, clothes on my back, food in my stomach...but there is so much more to stumble through this life besides those very basic necessities. While I have been enveloped by the Spirit during really stress-filled times like a death of a loved one, comforted beyond my wildest expectations in most areas...it's the cracks that get me.  All those gray areas which all not the food, house, and clothes issues.

All things work to the greater good. I can accept that. I have faith enough to move mountains, but there is a human physical frailty of which I speak. What happens when a minister has health issues? What happens when a minister has family issues? Depend on the Heavenly Father to remove these issues. Stand on the Rock of His promise to love and care for you just as your Earthly father did.

So what helps you?

December's Blessings

Imagine white Christmas lights and evergreens swagged around a round enclosed gazebo, a small table with candles, wine and the customary wine glass, an older bride and groom and you have my Christmas wedding. The couple flew in from Rhode Island to Jekyll Island and wanted to get married.

They had a hard time finding a minister who would marry them on Christmas Day. For me with a house full of family, I didn't give it a second thought, yes I would officiate. Love knows no holidays or boundaries. For a minister Christmas is no exception. There are no days off. This was a special service the nuptial couple and I came up with to encompass both of their faiths, Jewish and Christian. It had elements of both faiths in the whole service.

I performed ten weddings during the month of December. Not a landmark number, but with family, gift buying and the host of other things which go on during the month...it was enough.

I married three military couples who either flew in from distance lands (Japan, Italy, Iraq) or were leaving soon to do their duty to keep our country secure. I can appreciate each of them and feel honored to support these unions. Imagine getting married one day and flying off the next for several months of separation. This takes commitment and a solidly based love. These people are my heroes. They are the no-so-white knights who protect my freedom and keep me safe.

Love one another and treat each other as you would want to be treated.