Trust Me

Please pause to thank the multitude of men and women who have served our country together with those who do so today….willingly.  They protect us on our own soil in addition to all around the world.  Soldiers who risk their lives for our freedom.  Many travel to far off places, other cities and countries, vine-covered jungles or wind whipped deserts to fight wars in the name of, FREEDOM.

Our country’s Armed Forces fight enemies we never thought of before.  Sometimes, the ‘enemy’ wears a mask making him look much like our neighbor next door.  We ask, why?  Why is there hate?  Why do we fight?  Can’t we get along?  Let’s live in peace, be happy, respect each other and love one another while remembering God’s word…please?

Young soldiers, men and woman, sons and daughters or brothers and sisters protecting us day and night…summer or winter, spring and fall.  They cry tears of loneliness with worry behind closed doors.  A cement sidewalk long ago poured in front.  Across the dewy ground lies an unridden bicycle.  Toys scattered and tossed atop an overgrown lawn.  There is a piece of puzzle missing…yes, it’s Mom or Dad.  If not, it may be a prized son, precious daughter or much-loved brother or sister.  Love is missing.

Dusk settles.  Lullabies in rocking chairs soothe crying babies to sleep.  Toddlers toss in cribs clutching flopping bunnies while ‘olders’ retreat in solitude to rooms where emotions can be stuffed waaay down deep.  They’re too B.I.G. to cry.  No matter the age, children wonder the same… “When is Mommy or Daddy coming home?”

Far too often, the unspeakable happens during war.  There is a knock on the front door.  Neighbors in the distance hear the agony of wailing.  I’ve heard it before.  Like an animal cry.  Low, deep down and guttural at first, then louder to a crescendo like no other.  To the top……as if in slow motion.  W..H..Y?  Life is not fair.

I ask all of you to pray for our soldiers today.  Those who have fallen before together with each of them who protect us during all of our tomorrows.  No matter your belief, ‘right or wrong,’ our soldiers are here for you.  Yes, you.  Doing what they believe is right.  Remember them, please and thank them with the whole of your heart.

If you know any soldiers, call one today.  Say, “Thank you for your service.”  A few minutes on the phone will mean the world to any of them on this day.

Trust me…..

Gifts of Silent Darkness

The morning was dark as coal with barely a shadow in the distance.  Light of the moon flickered behind floating grey clouds, reminding me of scattering mice.  Perhaps they were parting in preparation for the morning sun, soon to rise above God’s great horizon?

It was an early hour, slightly before five am.  “Doodle” dog rustled under an heirloom quilt to drag me from the warmth of my bed.  “Noooo,” I remember mumbling silently.  It was too early to get up.  Grabbing his leash together with my shoes and a coat, I trudged to the out of doors where cold frost slapped my toasty face.

S.I.L.E.N.C.E.  Peace and quiet everywhere.  So much so, that I was afraid to breathe out loud for fear of waking something up.  There were no gusts of snow, no  swoosh of wind or snapping of twigs within my little forest land.  Creatures were sleeping, I presumed, resting within hallowed logs or under piles of musty fallen leaves.

Houses along my street remained dark inside except for a nightlight or two.  Friends and neighbors rested on down pillows while young children dreamed of Little Boy Blue or Santa Clause coming soon.  The moon cast shadows of light together with rooftop reflections of Christmas bulbs in different colored hues from glowing rooftops against the back of my yard.  Red, blue, green, gold and white.  They sparkled and shined in tones that snapped brightly against a sky of  blackness.   Then, out of the corner of my eye, a slight movement in the distance near.  Doodle dog did not move or even bark.  Instinctively, I quickly turned my head.

Between the trees of Bradford pear and Redbud, a lone majestic buck with antlers of eight stood tall and straight slightly up the hill.  His rack of antlers was large and wide, making me wonder how he carried the weight atop the crest of him?  He looked at me, as I did him without a single gesture.  Neither of us made a sound, nor did the forest or even the air surrounding us.  God granted me an early morning gift in the darkness before dawning hues.  What a magnificent surprise!

*God shall gift you with treasures if willing to listen to silence while seeing through darkness.

*all photographs courtesy of Google


Lucky Storm

It is the calm before the storm here in St. Louis today.  My husband checked with our ‘Forecaster’ son to see how bad it would be and what to expect.  “Not good,” our son said, adding the words, “freezing rain” to “ice and snow.”

Off shopping we went for a few bags of ice to melt our walkways and such.  Fathers emptied carts filled to the brim with gallons of milk, loaves of bread, and six-packs of “SpaghettiOs.”  They hoped to keep their healthy children fed for the next few days or so.  Frazzled mothers walked closely behind, holding preschooler’s chubby fists who grabbed candy and gum to the right of the check-out.  A spoonful of sugar in Crayola color.

No one smiled or said, “Hello.”  Some were rude, others were not in a good mood.  Preparing for an ice storm on the first Saturday in March was the last thing people wanted to do.  In like a lion, out like a lamb….

Still, the couples reminded me of how lucky they were with their whiny children in tow.  Although inconvenienced a bit, their children appeared pudgy and pink.  Perfect pictures of health, I would think.  You see it was twenty-two years ago today that my ‘Forecaster’ son was diagnosed with insulin dependent diabetes.

On that Saturday morning, I woke up just like the wanderers in the store pushing carts on the floor.  Ironically, it wasn’t the first day of March.  Instead, it was February 29th.  Leap Year.   Like any mother, that dawn of my life is part of me, like an eyelash when I blink.

Oh, to have been lucky enough to be shopping in a store with my sons on that day!  To have hunkered down by the fireplace sipping hot chocolate in shaded paper cups waiting for an ice storm to safely tuck us in.  To have been reading story books by the firelight that night instead of praying by the side of a hospital bed for God to save my little son.

I have been blessed throughout my years on many days, in many ways.  An ice storm means nothing in the grand scheme of Saturdays.  Play a game, turn off the phone, and kiss your sweet child in the softness of candlelight.  Anyone who has good health has everything.  Thank God, and stay inside while you enjoy the storm in the quiet of this gift we call tonight.