It happened so suddenly no one had time to prepare for it. I know that was true for me. I was watching the coverage on T.V. News reports about the weather. Lightening everywhere, it was being built as the worst storm in global history. Then to add insult to injury the earth itself started to rebel; earthquakes, volcanoes, tsunamis and fires sprang up in the most isolated areas. No place was safe; mountains were collapsing, huge ocean waves cascaded down on villages, lava flowed through metropolises with people running vainly ahead of red steaming goo. The cameras caught the expression on a few hapless faces as the hot molten rock reached them, scorched their bodies and finally absorbed them. Then the local coverage’s went dead as the photographers and their equipment fell to the same fate never to realize their Pulitzer Prize for journalism. The reporters showed people running into the hills looking for safety only to be buried alive under heaps of earth that cascaded down on top of them. Limbs protruded from the dirt grasping for a lifeline for seconds before they succumbed to their doom, their lungs crushed. Then the incredible. One news correspondent aimed his camera upward, at the lightening. Something was happening in outer space; it looked like an army was descending on us! No spacecraft, just mounted warriors! The camera fell to the ground and you could see feet retreating into the distance.
My T.V went dead. Like everything around it. The electric lines must have gone down. Or the broadcasting station was now wiped out. I was left with only my inferences to ponder the events as they unfolded. I did not have to imagine for long. I ran out of the house into the electrical storm when I heard all the commotion, armed forces were riding down the streets gathering survivors, (or prisoners?) in colossal nets. They weren’t local military, their uniforms were non-conventional white robes, were they from the middle east? They sat atop elegant white steeds who galloped breathlessly. Horses had not been used in centuries, not since the invention of ozone destroying gas-guzzlers. Horses were definitely practically at this moment however as the streets had become impassable by even army tanks: rubble from buildings, overturned vehicles, and trees of every kind blocked all the thorough fares. Blocked? I’m not sure that is the best word. There was no hint of a civilized route through the wreckage.
Though I had been frantically packing supplies to bring to an emergency shelter I had run from the house with nothing. Nothing except the money I had stuffed into my pockets; money and all my gold jewelry. The warning sirens that had been blaring had gone silent . Evidently the emergency alarm system had been disarmed. I didn’t get far before I was whisked into the net with people I knew, and people I‘d never met before. Then I heard it, the collapse of my home as it sunk into a sinkhole, followed by my neighbors’ houses. Looking over my shoulders, I saw my life’s hard work crumble to the ground. Nothing would be salvageable. Looters would be disappointed.
Soon, I truly realized how out of town this army was. The horses, riders and captives all climbed into the air. No wings, no propellers; just horses galloping upwards. We ascended on an undetectable path straight up. I clung to the netting for dear live. I’ve always been afraid of heights.
This was an invading nation. They must have come for prisoners, slaves. I never believed in extra terrestrial life before, it doesn’t take much to make a believer out of me: just a ride into space. I began to worry about oxygen depletion, boy would that disappoint our captors if we started dropping like flies from anoxia, they probably hadn't counted on our frail lungs not working in the higher atmospheres. How I was able to keep breathing was beyond me.
The aliens brought all their captives to what appeared to be a transportation station, deposited us and went in search of more humans. There was a court up front where men and women were ushered individually, I didn't notice any kids younger than teenagers. All were cast before some authoritative looking men, one at a time. The central man kept pointing to a young fellow on his right then a person on the left would inspect some gigantic tome. Apparently we were being sorted out for labor on this distant planet. They must not be very fussy. I didn't notice any consistency on who went to the left or right. Those however who went to the left seemed less keen than those that went the opposite direction. Those going right seemed grateful. Relieved. Satisfied. Radiant?
Craning my neck to see further to the right I saw a caravan of trains so golden the light flicking off them sparkled like flames. The trains on the left were baked black, rusty and miserable appearing. Rejects from the civil war?
People around me were crying, shivering in fear, and praying. Even the atheists : especially the atheists. Notice how in a real crisis even atheists start to call on God? Some how they were coming to believe in a higher source. The unbelievable has happened. Life from outer space had abducted us. The world as we knew it was finished. The earths military had combined in unison and it had been like throwing water balloons at whales. We had been vulnerable. Defeated. In fact, there were numerous uniformed men and women waiting their turns to be brought to the forefront.
The crowd was thinning remarkable quickly , like weeds being yanked from a garden, as one by one, individually and alone, we were escorted to the tribunal. Thousands of us. An innumerable group. Yet time seemed to stop, or at least my watch had. Time had no meaning as we waited our fates. I watched as men were dragged screaming to the left and some walked proudly to the right. Thin beggarly types, well built macho types, males and females. Teenagers on up to centurions.
It wasn't long before my name was called. How did they know my name? I walked timidly to my captors. The gentleman in the center , most elaborate chair, asked me one question, "What have you done with my son?" and pointed to the youth at his right who was sitting at a desk that identified him as Mr. J. Christ.
He looked familiar from posters and flyers that had been stuffed in my mailbox over the years. "Nothing sir, but I know he was a great man, a wonderful healer and prophet, he has had my highest respect."
"But did you know him personally?"
"No sir, I didn't have the time to meet him, I was busy with charity organizations and raising kids, then my parents."
The man behind the other desk, Mr. H. Ghost, spoke up. "Her name isn't in the book sir."
Mr J. Christ responded, "I never was invited into her home though I knocked frequently."
A hand raised an pointed me to the left. " Go! It would have been better for you if you'd included my son in your plans."
"Wait a minute.Lets talk, I'm more than willing to get to know him better!"
The main figure kept his finger pointing left. Obviously discussion was over, no plea bargaining allowed. Maybe bribery will work.
"Wait, I have money!” I cried, “I can get more!” Please believe my bluff! I pulled green bills and gold rings out of my pockets and tossed them at the feet of those present. Mr. J. Christ looked sadly at me, piercing my soul in two with his wounded eyes, and then turned his back. Wow, he’d received a good whipping from some one! He wasn’t going to accept my money or offer any more help!
I was drug to a prison train with the other cast offs , all trying to reach out through heavy bars. Smudged faces looked out with complete despair. A fatalistic expression was painted on every one present as the trackless train started to roll, taking us to our final home. The engineer was as heinous as his delighted laughter, it was diabolical. We were his prisoners now! Our transportation headed through the stars. Further and further away from any chance of escape. A colossal black hole came into view up ahead at the farthest edge of the galaxies, sucking everything that approached into it’s interior. I could feel our train being pulled in and then start to dissolve under immense heat scattering our bodies about into the darkness. There went our chance to ride out! I heard anguished weeping and screaming but saw nothing despite the unbearable flames surrounding my body. More trains carrying newcomers joined us for hours.
Sweat poured from my every pore and intense light beat against eyelids that I opened cautiously, one at a time. Loud screeching was assaulting my ears and I was inhaling the smell of burning flesh. The hot July sun beat down on me as I slowly woke up in the net hammock I found my hands and feet hopelessly tangled up in (I must have had a very restless nap). I can now personally denounce any rumors about the July sun being hotter 'n hell. The neighbors were fanning the smoke of their burnt burgers and steaks my way as they attempted to extinguish the fire while their teenagers’ obnoxious rap music was blaring music Satan would be proud of from their garage. I shook my head, gratefully. I had been having the worst nightmare of my life!!!
Some annoying buzzing was coming from the front of my home, which I was glad to see wasn't at the bottom of a a sink hole. Running through the house I peeked out the front window in time to see the local religion pushers retreating down the driveway, bibles in hand, they had left their usual bible tract on my door. They wheeled about in absolute surprise when I yanked the door open and invited them in to share their testimonies. This had never happened to them before at this stop, they've only seen me peeking out behind closed curtains! For some reason I felt very receptive to the gospel message today!
Math 7:21-23
Math 24
Mark 8:38
Acts 4:12
Rom. 10:14-21
2 Cor. 5:10
Heb. 9:27-28
2 Pet. 2:9
Rev 20:11-15
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
Thursday, April 19, 2007
MY ANNUAL EASTER TRIP
I surveyed the work ahead of me. It didn’t seem like I had bought this much over the past year, but here was the evidence. My little sister would be coming into town soon to offer her idea of lending a hand. This was her pet project, yet I always did all the toil: shopping for bargains, storing, packaging and delivering. She would stand by and delegate or criticize. Oh, yeah, did I mention I also had the honor of being the cash donor?
She had me big time! I was sorting items out by the age and sex of the recipients when I heard my sister, Babs, enter. She always lightened a room with her energy and she never suffered jet lag from her flights. I get exhausted crossing county lines! Heck, I get tired crossing the street, yet she has made these twenty annual treks, tirelessly and regularly, from abroad to participate in the gift distribution.
Every Easter, (I prefer to call it Resurrection Day as Easter was actually a pagan holiday honoring the goddess Easter.), Babs and I load up my van and pay a social call to the city’s Children’s Hospital. This was where Babs lived for much of her adolescent and teenage days. She had been diagnosed with leukemia at eleven and made her final departure from the institution at sixteen. A full recovery. Completely healed. That gave Resurrection day special meaning for us as a family, knowing that our savior and redeemer lives, as did Babs!
“Wow, you went wild this year didn’t you?” Babs declared, looking underneath the parcels to see if the whole lot was suspended in mid air or if there actually was a bed supporting every thing.
Last year there were so many good bargains I couldn’t resist.” I answered, picking up some plastic toys and books. Hospitalized kids get bored and need diversions to stimulate their growing minds. Babs had been bored to death during her hospitalizations so we were inspired to make this yearly contribution to the patients at her old alma mater, the hospital, where she spent so much restless time.
Cindy, my daughter, trailed Babs into the room. At least I think it was Cindy, she was hidden behind a tower of shoeboxes and would have bumped into Babs if Babs hadn’t winked at me and stepped to the side lowering herself into my boudoir chair. Cindy and I had spent long evenings together decorating the shoe boxes with “Easter” themes; bible verses, crosses, angels etc. Babs had suggested the boxes instead of baskets because of the Easter bunny connection. The boxes symbolized the old ossuaries Jews placed the skeletons in a year after death. Except of course for Jesus’, they couldn’t quite reach his body, besides it never decayed!
Scruffy, Cindy’s ten pound shadow, hurdled himself into Babs’ lap and attacked her repeatedly with his tongue giving her the beating of her life.
“What a good dog,” Babs pronounced.
“He sure is a good dog!” I seconded.
“Of course he’s a good dog mom,” Cindy affirmed scooping him off the chair and out of Babs lap without so much as an “excuse me” to cuddle him affectionately while he squirmed trying to get back to Babs.
“What’s wrong, old boy?” Cindy asked putting him down and watching him rejoin Babs on the chair. Cindy shrugged. “Odd.”
We spent hours sorting things out and boxing them up. We ooohed and awed over everything. The bibles and novels for teenagers that Cindy helped pick, the bible story books for the youngsters, the Veggie Tale movies and books, the Christian coloring and comic books, Carman CDs. (Carman is a wonderful Christian singing artist with lots of pizzazz, great for teens and adults). We had to be careful in what we gave kids; most of them had lowered resistance to infections due to chemotherapy. No one would find a hint of a bunny or egg in the lot. This holy day was all about Jesus, no time-sharing with a fertility symbol. (Does any one ever wonder where that furry creature gets his eggs from? If I ever see a bunny laying an egg, I'll check myself into rehab! Does he enter hen houses at night with a mask and gun and demand them the poor mother‘s to fill his basket?)
Overall we did pretty good I thought as I scrutinized our endeavor. Thirty boxes filled with homage to Jesus. Mood boosters for those moments that visit the sick after chemotherapy, rehab or treatments, or just when their parents have to go home. Cindy and I loaded the van; did I mention Babs just supervised? I wonder why she ever bothered to make the trip. Being the older sister, I should have been bossier and demanded some assistance, but I was just so glad to be doing this for her. The trunk and back seat were crammed to over flowing.
Before we took off, I went to the ladies room to freshen up. I clipped on some long fun earrings that practically brushed my shoulders, and hid my face under foundation, lipstick and eye shadow, (after all those kids were suffering enough without seeing me “a la natural,”, besides they could get their holidays confused and think it was Halloween instead of Easter!) Then I used the “hairspray“.
Babs looked me over, approvingly, “I see you can still be a rebel.” She stated referring to hair that was tinted with blue hair spray, and flipping my dangly earrings, full of spring colors and themes.
“You like it?” I questioned patting my do and shaking my head causing my ear rings to chime. Cindy giggled, “Mom, you got my spray by accident.”
“Nope, I did it deliberately.”Cindy groaned and slumped in her seat so the neighbors wouldn‘t see her accompanying us. “Great, my mom is revisiting her childhood. My friends already have a hard time seeing you as an authority figure.”
“When did I have any authority?” This bit of news surprised me. I could never get Cindy to follow my agendas. I grinned at Babs. We used to hate our mother acting like a kid, there‘s no generation gap here.
At the hospital, we headed to the cancer unit. This was always a somber moment for me. I remember visiting Babs here regularly. Actually, I came to see mom, she was here more that at home. Babs needed the attention, I could fend for myself. I had no curfews, no rules no one to answer too. For years I sometimes forgot I had a mother. At the time, I resented Babes’ illness. I blamed her of being sick on purpose to get all the attention. When she recovered and went home, I abhorred myself.
We passed her old room, her mailing address off an on for almost six years. There was a girl in there by herself looking very sad and in need of ….something I couldn’t give; assurance that everything would okay.
Cindy paused and looked in feeling awkward. It was more than she could handle. She hated this part of the job. The planning, packaging and delivering were emotionally rewarding. Seeing the recipients of her work was not. The baldheads, the disfigurements, the frail bodies that should be doing gymnastics or sports. The wheel chairs, IV‘s. The tears, the smiles, the hope, the despair, the living, barely living. The kids her age. The kids way younger than her. The kids who wouldn’t get older than she would. She preferred staying behind the scenes. If she could wear blinders coming in here, she would.
Babs stopped and stared sympathetically. “I’m going in to sit with her,” she announced, nodding at the young girl. “I think I can cheer her up.”I nodded.
“Sure, stay and cheer her up, I’ll meet you at the nurses station.”
“Oh, no, I’m coming with you!” Cindy declared and accelerated her pace fixing her eyes only on the destination. Babs went into the room ignoring the hand washing station, the cover gowns and masks. She never felt like these rules applied to her.
We transversed hallways plastered with that infamous furry, long eared egg bandit handing out chocolates (really, does the dental society sponsor him?) No posters of an empty cross or vacant tomb. Religious freedom, bah! More like freedom from religion. Pity, pity, pity.
Cindy and I unloaded our cart of boxes at the nurses station where a group of patients gathered to point and laugh at my hair and earrings while Cindy reddened with embarrassment; I just seemed to be a constant thorn in her flesh with my "immature behaviors".
We were well known here, anticipated figures every twelve months. The staff was as excited as the kids would be with our tokens of love Everything passed inspection; after twenty years we ought to have gotten it right by now! Yet every year something new is added to the list of “don‘t brings.” The parents also had to have time to evaluate the appropriateness of our presents. Parents were asked in advance for permission for us to deliver "religious" items so things wouldn't be snatched from disappointed hands. We had to be politically correct, even on a holy day!
I picked Babs up on the way out.“How will she be?” I asked referring to her old room’s present occupant.
“Fantastic, but not in this world I‘m afraid.” Babs responded. I sighed and prayed for her parents. “Her future is quarantined though; she has the seal on her forehead.” Babs had a good eye for these things.
“Thank God.” Thank God for offering salvation, thank heavens the young girl accepted it.
The night before Easter, Babs and I stayed up all night giggling and talking. We went through the photo albums, sang, prayed and cried. It was an exhausting night, it was an exhilarating night. No time was wasted on sleep. It would be another year before she graced me with her presence so we made the most of our time catching up. Her lifestyle surpassed my imagination and I didn’t want her to leave out a single detail. She was a namedropper. She knew people I only heard about. The life she lived was out of this world and would have made me jealous if I wasn’t so happy for her.
The next morning, Cindy complained about me leaving the television on in my room, keeping her awake with all the noise. Babs and I exchanged glances, what T.V? “Really mom, don’t you know you’re not the only one living here?” Cindy huffed. Why does she always use my arguments against me?
We attended sunrise service at the cemetery. The sun rose over the landscape while we sang, “He has risen!”
At the conclusion of the ceremony, covering the topic of death’s defeat in the person of Jesus, the congregation wondered among the tombstones laying flowers on all the graves. Babs and I dawdled over one resting place in particular. The dates etched on the marble stone spanned sixteen years that ended two decades ago. The day of Babs’ death when all pain and suffering ceased, when she left the hospital to go home. Easter time. Her bodily resurrection will occur at this site when the trumpet sounds on that glorious morn, but till then I get to enjoy her presence in my heart by carrying out our pet project in her name and for Jesus’ glorification.
Cindy came up behind me. “I sure wish I could have met aunt Babs.” “You have your chance every year but you don’t say a word to her,” I admonished.
Cindy gave me “the look” and announced, “That’s it, absolutely no more blue hair spray for you. I’ll bet there’s even a warning on the bottle; toxic to people over thirty.”
Babs looked over Cindy’s, blew me a kiss, and shot into the air to head back home. Cindy gasped, “Look mom. A shooting star!”
Duet 7:3-6
Duet 31:17-18
Isiah 53Luke 24
1 Thes 4:13-18
I Cor 15:50-58
Eph 1:13-14
She had me big time! I was sorting items out by the age and sex of the recipients when I heard my sister, Babs, enter. She always lightened a room with her energy and she never suffered jet lag from her flights. I get exhausted crossing county lines! Heck, I get tired crossing the street, yet she has made these twenty annual treks, tirelessly and regularly, from abroad to participate in the gift distribution.
Every Easter, (I prefer to call it Resurrection Day as Easter was actually a pagan holiday honoring the goddess Easter.), Babs and I load up my van and pay a social call to the city’s Children’s Hospital. This was where Babs lived for much of her adolescent and teenage days. She had been diagnosed with leukemia at eleven and made her final departure from the institution at sixteen. A full recovery. Completely healed. That gave Resurrection day special meaning for us as a family, knowing that our savior and redeemer lives, as did Babs!
“Wow, you went wild this year didn’t you?” Babs declared, looking underneath the parcels to see if the whole lot was suspended in mid air or if there actually was a bed supporting every thing.
Last year there were so many good bargains I couldn’t resist.” I answered, picking up some plastic toys and books. Hospitalized kids get bored and need diversions to stimulate their growing minds. Babs had been bored to death during her hospitalizations so we were inspired to make this yearly contribution to the patients at her old alma mater, the hospital, where she spent so much restless time.
Cindy, my daughter, trailed Babs into the room. At least I think it was Cindy, she was hidden behind a tower of shoeboxes and would have bumped into Babs if Babs hadn’t winked at me and stepped to the side lowering herself into my boudoir chair. Cindy and I had spent long evenings together decorating the shoe boxes with “Easter” themes; bible verses, crosses, angels etc. Babs had suggested the boxes instead of baskets because of the Easter bunny connection. The boxes symbolized the old ossuaries Jews placed the skeletons in a year after death. Except of course for Jesus’, they couldn’t quite reach his body, besides it never decayed!
Scruffy, Cindy’s ten pound shadow, hurdled himself into Babs’ lap and attacked her repeatedly with his tongue giving her the beating of her life.
“What a good dog,” Babs pronounced.
“He sure is a good dog!” I seconded.
“Of course he’s a good dog mom,” Cindy affirmed scooping him off the chair and out of Babs lap without so much as an “excuse me” to cuddle him affectionately while he squirmed trying to get back to Babs.
“What’s wrong, old boy?” Cindy asked putting him down and watching him rejoin Babs on the chair. Cindy shrugged. “Odd.”
We spent hours sorting things out and boxing them up. We ooohed and awed over everything. The bibles and novels for teenagers that Cindy helped pick, the bible story books for the youngsters, the Veggie Tale movies and books, the Christian coloring and comic books, Carman CDs. (Carman is a wonderful Christian singing artist with lots of pizzazz, great for teens and adults). We had to be careful in what we gave kids; most of them had lowered resistance to infections due to chemotherapy. No one would find a hint of a bunny or egg in the lot. This holy day was all about Jesus, no time-sharing with a fertility symbol. (Does any one ever wonder where that furry creature gets his eggs from? If I ever see a bunny laying an egg, I'll check myself into rehab! Does he enter hen houses at night with a mask and gun and demand them the poor mother‘s to fill his basket?)
Overall we did pretty good I thought as I scrutinized our endeavor. Thirty boxes filled with homage to Jesus. Mood boosters for those moments that visit the sick after chemotherapy, rehab or treatments, or just when their parents have to go home. Cindy and I loaded the van; did I mention Babs just supervised? I wonder why she ever bothered to make the trip. Being the older sister, I should have been bossier and demanded some assistance, but I was just so glad to be doing this for her. The trunk and back seat were crammed to over flowing.
Before we took off, I went to the ladies room to freshen up. I clipped on some long fun earrings that practically brushed my shoulders, and hid my face under foundation, lipstick and eye shadow, (after all those kids were suffering enough without seeing me “a la natural,”, besides they could get their holidays confused and think it was Halloween instead of Easter!) Then I used the “hairspray“.
Babs looked me over, approvingly, “I see you can still be a rebel.” She stated referring to hair that was tinted with blue hair spray, and flipping my dangly earrings, full of spring colors and themes.
“You like it?” I questioned patting my do and shaking my head causing my ear rings to chime. Cindy giggled, “Mom, you got my spray by accident.”
“Nope, I did it deliberately.”Cindy groaned and slumped in her seat so the neighbors wouldn‘t see her accompanying us. “Great, my mom is revisiting her childhood. My friends already have a hard time seeing you as an authority figure.”
“When did I have any authority?” This bit of news surprised me. I could never get Cindy to follow my agendas. I grinned at Babs. We used to hate our mother acting like a kid, there‘s no generation gap here.
At the hospital, we headed to the cancer unit. This was always a somber moment for me. I remember visiting Babs here regularly. Actually, I came to see mom, she was here more that at home. Babs needed the attention, I could fend for myself. I had no curfews, no rules no one to answer too. For years I sometimes forgot I had a mother. At the time, I resented Babes’ illness. I blamed her of being sick on purpose to get all the attention. When she recovered and went home, I abhorred myself.
We passed her old room, her mailing address off an on for almost six years. There was a girl in there by herself looking very sad and in need of ….something I couldn’t give; assurance that everything would okay.
Cindy paused and looked in feeling awkward. It was more than she could handle. She hated this part of the job. The planning, packaging and delivering were emotionally rewarding. Seeing the recipients of her work was not. The baldheads, the disfigurements, the frail bodies that should be doing gymnastics or sports. The wheel chairs, IV‘s. The tears, the smiles, the hope, the despair, the living, barely living. The kids her age. The kids way younger than her. The kids who wouldn’t get older than she would. She preferred staying behind the scenes. If she could wear blinders coming in here, she would.
Babs stopped and stared sympathetically. “I’m going in to sit with her,” she announced, nodding at the young girl. “I think I can cheer her up.”I nodded.
“Sure, stay and cheer her up, I’ll meet you at the nurses station.”
“Oh, no, I’m coming with you!” Cindy declared and accelerated her pace fixing her eyes only on the destination. Babs went into the room ignoring the hand washing station, the cover gowns and masks. She never felt like these rules applied to her.
We transversed hallways plastered with that infamous furry, long eared egg bandit handing out chocolates (really, does the dental society sponsor him?) No posters of an empty cross or vacant tomb. Religious freedom, bah! More like freedom from religion. Pity, pity, pity.
Cindy and I unloaded our cart of boxes at the nurses station where a group of patients gathered to point and laugh at my hair and earrings while Cindy reddened with embarrassment; I just seemed to be a constant thorn in her flesh with my "immature behaviors".
We were well known here, anticipated figures every twelve months. The staff was as excited as the kids would be with our tokens of love Everything passed inspection; after twenty years we ought to have gotten it right by now! Yet every year something new is added to the list of “don‘t brings.” The parents also had to have time to evaluate the appropriateness of our presents. Parents were asked in advance for permission for us to deliver "religious" items so things wouldn't be snatched from disappointed hands. We had to be politically correct, even on a holy day!
I picked Babs up on the way out.“How will she be?” I asked referring to her old room’s present occupant.
“Fantastic, but not in this world I‘m afraid.” Babs responded. I sighed and prayed for her parents. “Her future is quarantined though; she has the seal on her forehead.” Babs had a good eye for these things.
“Thank God.” Thank God for offering salvation, thank heavens the young girl accepted it.
The night before Easter, Babs and I stayed up all night giggling and talking. We went through the photo albums, sang, prayed and cried. It was an exhausting night, it was an exhilarating night. No time was wasted on sleep. It would be another year before she graced me with her presence so we made the most of our time catching up. Her lifestyle surpassed my imagination and I didn’t want her to leave out a single detail. She was a namedropper. She knew people I only heard about. The life she lived was out of this world and would have made me jealous if I wasn’t so happy for her.
The next morning, Cindy complained about me leaving the television on in my room, keeping her awake with all the noise. Babs and I exchanged glances, what T.V? “Really mom, don’t you know you’re not the only one living here?” Cindy huffed. Why does she always use my arguments against me?
We attended sunrise service at the cemetery. The sun rose over the landscape while we sang, “He has risen!”
At the conclusion of the ceremony, covering the topic of death’s defeat in the person of Jesus, the congregation wondered among the tombstones laying flowers on all the graves. Babs and I dawdled over one resting place in particular. The dates etched on the marble stone spanned sixteen years that ended two decades ago. The day of Babs’ death when all pain and suffering ceased, when she left the hospital to go home. Easter time. Her bodily resurrection will occur at this site when the trumpet sounds on that glorious morn, but till then I get to enjoy her presence in my heart by carrying out our pet project in her name and for Jesus’ glorification.
Cindy came up behind me. “I sure wish I could have met aunt Babs.” “You have your chance every year but you don’t say a word to her,” I admonished.
Cindy gave me “the look” and announced, “That’s it, absolutely no more blue hair spray for you. I’ll bet there’s even a warning on the bottle; toxic to people over thirty.”
Babs looked over Cindy’s, blew me a kiss, and shot into the air to head back home. Cindy gasped, “Look mom. A shooting star!”
Duet 7:3-6
Duet 31:17-18
Isiah 53Luke 24
1 Thes 4:13-18
I Cor 15:50-58
Eph 1:13-14
Monday, April 9, 2007
DOG GONE
I was tired. I had been driving for several hours and decided it was time to let my daughter, Cindy, take the wheel, against my better judgment, while it was still light. I needed some rest before our up coming adventure and letting her drive seemed counterproductive to that end but I had to give it a shot, I was going to need steady nerves and quick reflexes in a few hours.
After getting a few winks in, I glanced out the window. The scenery was a blur and cars along side us (they were only alongside us for a brief moment in time) were giving us unpleasant looks.
“Why are you passing all these cars?”
“Because they’re going slow?”
“I think it’s because you’re going fast. What’s the speed limit?” I queried, already knowing the answer.
“For me or them?”
“Pull over.” This is why teenagers shouldn’t drive, or parents shouldn’t take cat naps. Thank heaven’s we had not passed any “smokies.”
We spent the duration of the trip making our plans and bickering about the ethics of the hair brained idea that I hatched after the last visit home to my parents. I had to admit inwardly Cindy was right, there were other ways, but something had to be done. I threw in some driving lessons by showing her what not to do ( intentionally, of course). We stopped occasionally to stretch our legs but we had a dead line to meet. We must complete our job while it was dark and everyone was sleeping.
Signs appeared telling us we were close to my hometown. Nearer and nearer with each gallon of precious gas. In the long haul the gas bill would be the cheapest expense, not to mention well worth it. I turned on to my parent’s street, slowed and turned off the headlights. Every house was black, no lights on anywhere, no sign of life. Things were going as planned so far. I parked at the entrance to the alley and turned off the ignition. We still had time to repent.
“Let’s synchronize our watches.” Cindy suggested, getting into her role. Who wears watches anymore? I use my cell phone and that wasn’t coming with me. I didn’t need that blasted thing going off and jingling my slowly unsteadying nerves. I wouldn’t be accepting any calls at work tonight.
Stepping out we closed the car doors very gently. Pulling our ski masks down over our faces we proceeded up the alley, cautiously. My mom and dad were light sleepers and we didn’t want to be caught. Mother and daughter slinking around in the dark, miles from home, two states from home actually. Great quality time.
We stopped at the back yard gate and tried the handle. Pad locked. Sure, why should this be easy. A small town like this, no crime and the gate is locked. Cindy cupped her hands to lift me over and I snagged my t-shirt on a loose wire scratching my abdomen. Great, I’ll need a tetanus shot when I get home! I feared I’d fall and call attention to us. No lights came on in the bedrooms. Cindy vaulted over effortless. Gymnastic classes were paying off, they obviously are a prerequisite for a life of crime.
We had chosen a moonless night for this escapade, not intentionally, mind you. I don‘t have the best night vision. Proving this, I tripped over some object in the yard jamming my toe into my ankle. Cindy clamped her hands over my mouth at the start of some unlady like verbiage (sorry, can’t print the expletives here, use your imagination, but remember, I’m a Christian.)
There he was. Our reason for being here at one in the morning. The poor dog’s chain was tangled up around a tree giving him limited motion, his water dish spilled over making a mud pit for him to sleep in. He lay listlessly, head on paws, warily observing us approach. No barking, no tail wagging. Just big sad eyes. Probably expecting some abuse. Definitely not expecting anything good to happen to him. Why should he? He’d been mistreated ever since he was abducted from home. His mother had no idea what would become of him when he was snatched from her side at the tender age of eight (weeks).
We advanced at a snail’s pace, not wanting to risk his getting jumpy. No threat there, apparently. I untangled the chain and tried to coax him to the gate. Wouldn’t budge. Cindy offered him a beef jerky we brought to entice him to follow us. It got his consideration. His head went up so suddenly Cindy dropped the beef jerky and our victim, ignoring our presence, sniffed around for it showing the first hints of a pulse. Now that we had him on his feet we couldn’t budge him by pulling on the chain until he found his treat.
Whistling came up the alley. I had a strong suspicion a person was attached to the melody. Jumping behind a hedge we ducked, squatting on our heels, ready to bolt. Dog followed us now, having eaten his tid bit he wanted more. The quiet listless dog was transforming into an excited one, right before our horrified eyes. It wasn’t so quiet in the back yard now. The whistling stopped. A flashlight scanned the yard, the beam passed over us, returning to us with a swift movement. We’d been caught. By who? All we could see were light spots on our retinas.
Before we could dash off a voice warned us, “Halt, police.”
My life was over. It exploded before my eyes. My future. Incarcerated. Working in the steamy laundry, making license plates, learning to smoke, building muscles at recreation time. Group showers. Waiting for Sunday afternoon visitation. In five years I’d have a hard, tattoo-ed body. A record. Cindy would hopefully get off lighter, juvenile hall, out at eighteen, rehabilitated. Taught a career. No permanent record.
“Come out here so I can see you, please.” So courteous. So far no signs of impending police brutality. “Remove your masks, please.” We were commanded by a uniform aiming a revolver and light at us.
Our ski masks came off allowing our identification.
“Cindy? Marcy? Is that you? Your parent’s didn’t say you were coming to town.”
“Well, they didn’t exactly know.” I responded.
The officer put two and two together and came up with four. Pretty good for a man. The dark clothes, the night time visit, Dog sniffing Cindy’s body, where more beef jerky was secreted. We were on a heist. He killed his flashlight and holstered his weapon.
“Well its about time someone rescued this unfortunate beast.” He announced. “You’re not taking us to the slammer?” Relief flooded my soul. Paroled earlier than estimated!
“Hell no, but I’m not going to assist you either. I do have to uphold some professionalism.” He retreated and vanished into the night. He was never there. He’d been just a fabrication of our over worked imagination.
Tugging fiercely on Dog’s shackles we got to the fence, boosted him over, (it took the two of us, getting tail, belly, etc. in our faces) and raced back to our get away vehicle. But not before the downpour. I hadn’t planned on that but it explains why we couldn‘t see the moon! . Muddy, smelly, wet, Dog was placed on the covered back seat next to Scruffy, my furry son, who sniffed at the new comer and edged away under the drivers seat, yapping his disapproval. Snob.
No sooner had I turned on to the main thorough fare an alarm went off. Guilty conscience? You bet. It was okay now, it was only my cell phone. Answering it I discovered it was my sister.
“Hey Marcy, as long as you’re in town come by here and get these clothes I’ve saved for Cindy. Help me save the postage, will ya?”
“Ellen, how did you know I was here?” Crooks don’t usually get calls on the job. The cop. Her husband, my brother in law. He squealed after all. Coppers! I was thinking like a criminal now.
Home at last. Fifteen hours from start to finish. I had some explaining to do with my husband. He knew where the dog belonged, but how he got here, he could only guess from the muddy paw marks covering the back car seat and windows. I had a hard time convincing him the dog was just a look a like, no connection to the one from my parent’s native soil. I don’t think he bought it, but didn’t wish to accept involvement by association so he refused to continue his line of questioning.
A few days latter the land phone went off. My mother was calling to inform me someone had stolen her neighbors dog! The one she knew I always worried about when I came for my infrequent visits. (mom’s idea of a guilt trip, I‘m there for every major holiday counting ground hog day!)Just incase I still didn't know which dog she was referring to she reminded me of the time I reported them to the SPCA. I happened right under their noses at night. My brother in law, the police officer, claimed the dog was there when he had done his rounds. Well, the dog was there when he made his rounds. We just happened to be there also. The papers called it grand larceny because the owners claimed it was a two thousand dollar blood hound ( An insurance scam?) but they were more concerned about loosing a member of the family. Yeah, one they kept in bondage in the back yard and visited occasionally I was looking at the gas, vet and groomers bills. Fleas, ticks, bald patches, mal nourishment, heart worms, intestinal worms, vaccinations, rabies shots, dental work not to mention shampooing the car upholstery. No, they were right. In the long haul, two thousand dollars was an underestimate. I wonder if I should file for reimbursement. I better not get over confident. One thing was for sure. If my parent’s ever visited, the dog would be unrecognizable. Manicured, fattening up, and, for the first time, eager for companionship, he was not the same brute that had lived across the alley from my child hood home. Now I had to work on Scruffy. Snobbery was intolerable in my house. He needed to remember how he came to be a family member!
Cindy came bouncing home from school all excited.“Hey, mom, get your car keys, we have another job to do!”
“What are you babbling about?”
“One of my friend’s at school was talking about some horses near here that are being abused. Let‘s see, we need a horse trailer, pick-up to pull it, bolt cutters for the fence…….”
I grabbed the vet bills for the dog, mentally multiplied the cost for a horse, covered my ears and ran from the room with Cindy in hot pursuit, laughing her young head off and waving a ski mask in the air.
Prov. 12:10
isaiah 43:1-4
Hosea 13:14
John 10:10
Eph. 4:28
Col. 1:12-13
After getting a few winks in, I glanced out the window. The scenery was a blur and cars along side us (they were only alongside us for a brief moment in time) were giving us unpleasant looks.
“Why are you passing all these cars?”
“Because they’re going slow?”
“I think it’s because you’re going fast. What’s the speed limit?” I queried, already knowing the answer.
“For me or them?”
“Pull over.” This is why teenagers shouldn’t drive, or parents shouldn’t take cat naps. Thank heaven’s we had not passed any “smokies.”
We spent the duration of the trip making our plans and bickering about the ethics of the hair brained idea that I hatched after the last visit home to my parents. I had to admit inwardly Cindy was right, there were other ways, but something had to be done. I threw in some driving lessons by showing her what not to do ( intentionally, of course). We stopped occasionally to stretch our legs but we had a dead line to meet. We must complete our job while it was dark and everyone was sleeping.
Signs appeared telling us we were close to my hometown. Nearer and nearer with each gallon of precious gas. In the long haul the gas bill would be the cheapest expense, not to mention well worth it. I turned on to my parent’s street, slowed and turned off the headlights. Every house was black, no lights on anywhere, no sign of life. Things were going as planned so far. I parked at the entrance to the alley and turned off the ignition. We still had time to repent.
“Let’s synchronize our watches.” Cindy suggested, getting into her role. Who wears watches anymore? I use my cell phone and that wasn’t coming with me. I didn’t need that blasted thing going off and jingling my slowly unsteadying nerves. I wouldn’t be accepting any calls at work tonight.
Stepping out we closed the car doors very gently. Pulling our ski masks down over our faces we proceeded up the alley, cautiously. My mom and dad were light sleepers and we didn’t want to be caught. Mother and daughter slinking around in the dark, miles from home, two states from home actually. Great quality time.
We stopped at the back yard gate and tried the handle. Pad locked. Sure, why should this be easy. A small town like this, no crime and the gate is locked. Cindy cupped her hands to lift me over and I snagged my t-shirt on a loose wire scratching my abdomen. Great, I’ll need a tetanus shot when I get home! I feared I’d fall and call attention to us. No lights came on in the bedrooms. Cindy vaulted over effortless. Gymnastic classes were paying off, they obviously are a prerequisite for a life of crime.
We had chosen a moonless night for this escapade, not intentionally, mind you. I don‘t have the best night vision. Proving this, I tripped over some object in the yard jamming my toe into my ankle. Cindy clamped her hands over my mouth at the start of some unlady like verbiage (sorry, can’t print the expletives here, use your imagination, but remember, I’m a Christian.)
There he was. Our reason for being here at one in the morning. The poor dog’s chain was tangled up around a tree giving him limited motion, his water dish spilled over making a mud pit for him to sleep in. He lay listlessly, head on paws, warily observing us approach. No barking, no tail wagging. Just big sad eyes. Probably expecting some abuse. Definitely not expecting anything good to happen to him. Why should he? He’d been mistreated ever since he was abducted from home. His mother had no idea what would become of him when he was snatched from her side at the tender age of eight (weeks).
We advanced at a snail’s pace, not wanting to risk his getting jumpy. No threat there, apparently. I untangled the chain and tried to coax him to the gate. Wouldn’t budge. Cindy offered him a beef jerky we brought to entice him to follow us. It got his consideration. His head went up so suddenly Cindy dropped the beef jerky and our victim, ignoring our presence, sniffed around for it showing the first hints of a pulse. Now that we had him on his feet we couldn’t budge him by pulling on the chain until he found his treat.
Whistling came up the alley. I had a strong suspicion a person was attached to the melody. Jumping behind a hedge we ducked, squatting on our heels, ready to bolt. Dog followed us now, having eaten his tid bit he wanted more. The quiet listless dog was transforming into an excited one, right before our horrified eyes. It wasn’t so quiet in the back yard now. The whistling stopped. A flashlight scanned the yard, the beam passed over us, returning to us with a swift movement. We’d been caught. By who? All we could see were light spots on our retinas.
Before we could dash off a voice warned us, “Halt, police.”
My life was over. It exploded before my eyes. My future. Incarcerated. Working in the steamy laundry, making license plates, learning to smoke, building muscles at recreation time. Group showers. Waiting for Sunday afternoon visitation. In five years I’d have a hard, tattoo-ed body. A record. Cindy would hopefully get off lighter, juvenile hall, out at eighteen, rehabilitated. Taught a career. No permanent record.
“Come out here so I can see you, please.” So courteous. So far no signs of impending police brutality. “Remove your masks, please.” We were commanded by a uniform aiming a revolver and light at us.
Our ski masks came off allowing our identification.
“Cindy? Marcy? Is that you? Your parent’s didn’t say you were coming to town.”
“Well, they didn’t exactly know.” I responded.
The officer put two and two together and came up with four. Pretty good for a man. The dark clothes, the night time visit, Dog sniffing Cindy’s body, where more beef jerky was secreted. We were on a heist. He killed his flashlight and holstered his weapon.
“Well its about time someone rescued this unfortunate beast.” He announced. “You’re not taking us to the slammer?” Relief flooded my soul. Paroled earlier than estimated!
“Hell no, but I’m not going to assist you either. I do have to uphold some professionalism.” He retreated and vanished into the night. He was never there. He’d been just a fabrication of our over worked imagination.
Tugging fiercely on Dog’s shackles we got to the fence, boosted him over, (it took the two of us, getting tail, belly, etc. in our faces) and raced back to our get away vehicle. But not before the downpour. I hadn’t planned on that but it explains why we couldn‘t see the moon! . Muddy, smelly, wet, Dog was placed on the covered back seat next to Scruffy, my furry son, who sniffed at the new comer and edged away under the drivers seat, yapping his disapproval. Snob.
No sooner had I turned on to the main thorough fare an alarm went off. Guilty conscience? You bet. It was okay now, it was only my cell phone. Answering it I discovered it was my sister.
“Hey Marcy, as long as you’re in town come by here and get these clothes I’ve saved for Cindy. Help me save the postage, will ya?”
“Ellen, how did you know I was here?” Crooks don’t usually get calls on the job. The cop. Her husband, my brother in law. He squealed after all. Coppers! I was thinking like a criminal now.
Home at last. Fifteen hours from start to finish. I had some explaining to do with my husband. He knew where the dog belonged, but how he got here, he could only guess from the muddy paw marks covering the back car seat and windows. I had a hard time convincing him the dog was just a look a like, no connection to the one from my parent’s native soil. I don’t think he bought it, but didn’t wish to accept involvement by association so he refused to continue his line of questioning.
A few days latter the land phone went off. My mother was calling to inform me someone had stolen her neighbors dog! The one she knew I always worried about when I came for my infrequent visits. (mom’s idea of a guilt trip, I‘m there for every major holiday counting ground hog day!)Just incase I still didn't know which dog she was referring to she reminded me of the time I reported them to the SPCA. I happened right under their noses at night. My brother in law, the police officer, claimed the dog was there when he had done his rounds. Well, the dog was there when he made his rounds. We just happened to be there also. The papers called it grand larceny because the owners claimed it was a two thousand dollar blood hound ( An insurance scam?) but they were more concerned about loosing a member of the family. Yeah, one they kept in bondage in the back yard and visited occasionally I was looking at the gas, vet and groomers bills. Fleas, ticks, bald patches, mal nourishment, heart worms, intestinal worms, vaccinations, rabies shots, dental work not to mention shampooing the car upholstery. No, they were right. In the long haul, two thousand dollars was an underestimate. I wonder if I should file for reimbursement. I better not get over confident. One thing was for sure. If my parent’s ever visited, the dog would be unrecognizable. Manicured, fattening up, and, for the first time, eager for companionship, he was not the same brute that had lived across the alley from my child hood home. Now I had to work on Scruffy. Snobbery was intolerable in my house. He needed to remember how he came to be a family member!
Cindy came bouncing home from school all excited.“Hey, mom, get your car keys, we have another job to do!”
“What are you babbling about?”
“One of my friend’s at school was talking about some horses near here that are being abused. Let‘s see, we need a horse trailer, pick-up to pull it, bolt cutters for the fence…….”
I grabbed the vet bills for the dog, mentally multiplied the cost for a horse, covered my ears and ran from the room with Cindy in hot pursuit, laughing her young head off and waving a ski mask in the air.
Prov. 12:10
isaiah 43:1-4
Hosea 13:14
John 10:10
Eph. 4:28
Col. 1:12-13
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