Part 2 - She Had a Friend in Jesus

I must make a confession. I have always, as you can hopefully tell from my writing, had His beautiful spirit in my heart. That spirit -how would my friend Roy from Southern View Ministries say it- didn’t come from book learnin’. Sorry Linda and Roy, it felt right and I couldn’t resist. I love you both.

I don’t even know if there was a Bible in my house. The only bible I remember was Emily Post. I just know that my Heavenly Father was there, with me, putting His words in my head and filling my heart with His love. He taught me His lessons, one on one, just Him and me.

I haven’t read the Bible until last fall when I started Bible study classes at my church. I call myself the Bible virgin – but not for long. I am learning new lessons everyday.

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She Had a Friend in Jesus

Without having exposure to religion of any denomination our Heavenly Father found a little girl named Karen and introduced Himself to her as she was huddled underneath her bed alone and scared. He wrapped His protective arms around her to keep her safe. His angels surrounded her to calm her fears. The one true solace she had was her God. She had a friend in Jesus.

That little girl was me. To say I grew up in a dysfunction family would be an understatement. The daily lessons I learned was to question my existence, fear what each day had to offer and not to trust anyone. To attend school each day was the closest resource of a daily safe haven I knew. Even that brought ridicule from classmates because I wore home sewn clothes along with my introverted personality.

On Sunday mornings I would wake myself up, make breakfast, get dressed and walk alone four blocks to the closest church. Only five years old, I loved going to church. It offered smiles, hugs, and words of encouragement. I truly do not think any one ever realized I was there by myself. Jesus was in my heart and I knew I would be okay no matter what the rest of the day would offer.

There was a continual tug of war going on in my life. My parents pulled on my arms and God warmed my heart. How does a five year old mentally comprehend this battle? Children are supposed to be able to trust their parents to keep them from harm. What happens when the parents are the ones causing the hurt and pain?

The journey of healing and forgiveness has been a challenge that has brought me to my knees many times over the years. The opportunity to love and nurture my parents in a way they were incapable of loving and nurturing me presented itself as my biggest blessing.

Someone, just the other day, asked if I loved my parents. Of course I loved them. Never was it my place to judge them for their actions. I would not trade my life for anyone else’s if that would have been possible. I never have judged them. I knew at some point in their life there would be a time that they would meet their Maker – if there were a time for judgment, it would be then.

Please understand, it is not my intention to be disrespectful to my parents. They were good and loving people. They just did not have the capability of expressing that love to a child. Though be it sad, it is the truth. Not all people are cut out to be parents.

I lived a life of chance. I was abused by chance, but I chose to survive with the hope, love and guidance of my Heavenly Father.

There are many men, women and children like me that have chosen to survive. You may be one of them, if not I guarantee you know someone who is a survivor. Please have patience with us. We need those extra smiles and hugs. We also need that validation that we are loved.

God is working with and through me. He is guiding me on a path, His path to help others in their own personal journey of healing and forgiveness. Their stories may be different and they may be in different stages of healing and that is okay. I am just so excited to see where He is leading me in my own personal journey with Him.

God is good! Amen.

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Seasons on the Parkway

I first wrote this 3 years ago after observing a devastating ice storm that hit St. Joseph, Missouri.

Twenty six miles of parkway systems which are listed in the National Register of Historic Places intertwine throughout the city of St. Joseph, Missouri.  Each are lined with trees that display individual personalities with each season that the Show Me State is best known.

The winter displays the true character of the trees as they stand tall with their branches proudly outstretched, naked for all to see.  The ice and snow of Mother Nature tests the strength of the tree to the tip of each branch.  Frozen trinkets twinkle from every limb. The sun glistens on them in their finest glory framed by the matting of the deep blue sky.  Whether the trees are young seedlings or old mighty oaks they reach to catch their share of freshly fallen jewels from the heavens above.

The warmth of spring starts to tease us as winter typically lays its final blanket of snow throughout the city.  This time of year each tree experiences renewal.  Little buds start to form on the branches of the hundreds upon thousands of trees outlining the boulevards.   With the blink of an eye, the trees are adorned in their finest of green leaves. 

When summer arrives; the individual tree is no longer visible.  Maples, elms and birches are co-mingled.  A gentle breeze produces slight whispers of sound.  Larger leaves wave a greeting to those that stand closest.  The green foliage looks mundane to the glancing onlooker, but if studied closer, one can see variances of lime to olive to emeralds in the color spectrum.  Shapes and sizes vary as widely as the tints and hues. 

Breathtaking colors of autumn are a gift bestowed by the snow of winter combined with the rain of spring and dog day afternoons of summer.  Glorious color palettes of yellows, oranges and reds beckon a flood of cars filled with families admiring the awe-inspiring beauty.  Parents share stories with their children, of their own grandparents taking them on the same Sunday afternoon drive when they were young.

The magnificent leaves adorning the branches of the trees are their swansong to the warmth and comfort of the fall air.  Slowly, almost meticulously, the leaves begin to fall to the ground blanketing the trunks of the trees as if to provide warmth for the long cold winter ahead. 

Driving the parkway was a family tradition for us. I drove the parkways with my Father on what turned out to be his final car ride. On that last drive for him he looked toward a clearing of trees and saw a deer standing majestically, staring in what appeared to be our direction. As tears formed in his eyes he said to me Karen, that is probably the last deer I will ever see. With all the wisdom I could muster in that poignant moment I replied why would you ever think there are not deer in heaven?

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The Six Foot Branch

Several years ago when my children were much younger, I was in charge of a company picnic for my employer. I chose Watkins Mills State Park which is located just outside of Lawson, Missouri to sponsor this first time event.

People travel hundreds of miles to enjoy the 100 acre fishing lake with beautiful winding bicycle paths, and an abundance of picnic sites. A National Historic Landmark, the Watkins Mills Woolen Mill sits adjacent to the State Park.

The only con to hosting our picnic at Watkins Mills was a pro for our family. The picnic areas are first come, first serve so it was a welcomed excuse to camp there for the weekend. That way we had first dibs on a primo picnic spot. Believe it or not, our family enjoys roughing it in our 8 X 10 tent any time we can.

My husband, kids and I packed our van as quickly as possible after work on Friday. Being one of the first to the campground insured the perfect spot to tuck our tent under the trees as a retreat from the sun. We packed our bedding, coolers and cooking utensils meticulously in the back of the van. We double checked our supply list and we were off.

Anyone familiar with the sick feeling you get in the pit of your stomach when you are leaving your home for a few days and think you might have forgotten to turn off the coffee maker, iron or unplug your curling iron? Chances are all are off, but…….About 20 miles out of town I got that sick feeling. Not about the above appliances, but something I may have forgotten to put on the supply list to appropriately check it off. Firewood. How could we cook our meals without wood? Most people would use charcoal, not us!

It seems ironic to camp in a State Park full of trees and not have firewood available. We knew we could only find so many twigs on the ground so in this case, a plan b was in line. A reasonable solution was to stop at the store in the nearest town to purchase wood. We found that it is next to impossible to find firewood for sale in August. Though, we did discover the butcher at the local market had just trimmed a dead elm tree in his yard, and he welcomed us to help ourselves to what we needed.

I have not forgotten that man’s generosity. We left the store with directions to his home. He lived just a few blocks away. His house was easy to find and we were able to pull our van into his back yard. When he trimmed his tree he had placed the wood in a tractor tire sandbox that his daughter had outgrown. Anyone sense trouble here?

We picked up and carried as many branches as our arms could carry at one time to our van. Then, it happened. I picked up a piece of wood that felt different than the rest I had already carried. I never felt clammy wood before. I looked down realizing I had a 6 foot black snake in my hands. Finding myself in an unacceptable position, I knew I had only seconds to decide how to handle this dilemma.

First instinct was to run and SCREAM and not stop s c re a m i n g until home safely under the covers of my bed! Gary and I agreed when we had our kids not to place our fears on them. Anyway, how polite would it be for me to run screaming across the nice gentlemen’s yard even though he did share more than what we had anticipated? So, a scream was nixed, even a muffled one.

I spent too much time contemplating my predicament; snake still in hand, so in a calm and gentle manner, I very carefully, nonchalantly lowered the snake back down inside of its tractor tire sandbox. I apologized profusely for disturbing its afternoon siesta.

I turned around and saw Gary on his way back to the sandbox. I grabbed his arm, pulled him out of ear shot of the kids. It’s time to go! It was obvious he wasn’t ready to leave yet, so I said, it’s time to go, NOW! Shall I say I didn’t have to repeat my desire to leave a 3^rd time?

He did not know until after we arrived at the campground, set up our tent and grilled our dinner on our recently gathered wood why we departed our firewood supply so quickly. So, when the kids were off playing and we had an opportunity to relax, I witnessed a sly grin on his face as I related my experience. Something told me he had already noticed my nemesis.

It is not typical for me to have a fear of critters that slither across the ground or that squeeze through small holes in your wall or even the ones with multiple legs. If I am aware of their presence, I don’t like it, but I can manage. It’s the surprise visits that I’m not particularly fond of.

I must confess though, because my children will personally call each of you reading this and say – she is petrified of birds. I do not care what man, woman or child is close – put me in a room with a bird and you might as well call the EMT’S. But, that is a whole different story I might share someday when I feel stronger.

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Why not me, Lord!

You have cancer sir. The man thinks about his impeding retirement, tears welling in his eyes. Overcome with thoughts of his mortality, his wife of 40 years, a new grandbaby on the way, he wipes the wet from his face. He asks, why me Lord?

The lump in your breast needs to be biopsied. The room goes dark for this young mother. She can not make the sensation of being on a spinning carnival ride go away. The doctor is speaking, but his words are inaudible to her. Who will care for her babies? She asks, why me Lord?

A torrential spring storm moves quickly through a quiet neighborhood in the Midwest. A funnel cloud drops from the sky devouring a young family’s home. They just purchased it. This family asks, why us Lord?

The above are normal initial responses to tragic situations. Our faith or temporary lapse of it spawns our reactions to these tragedies. I tend to say, why not me Lord, almost every day of my adult life.

My husband and I struggled to make a good life for our young family. We moved to a new home. He attended school full-time while working more than 40 hours as week. I made every effort to be a good wife, super mom, and reliable branch secretary to my employer.

I became ill, was hospitalized and diagnosed with resolving viral encephalitis. It was a viral infection which started at the base of my spine and traveled to my head. There was swelling in my brain. Powerful narcotics controlled the pain. The prognosis was if I lived, there would be permanent damage of unknown extent. I survived with no complications whatsoever. I asked, why not me Lord?

I had routine surgery when my children were school age, there were complications. I did not know I was a bleeder until I received 6 transfusions in less than a 24 hour period. It was determined I had a blood clot. They x-rayed every inch of my body before I received a pneumonia diagnosis. My physicians, in all of their wisdom, stated I may not survive. I lived and I asked, why not me Lord?

A few years later, we moved again. We have a stairwell that drops from the floor in the dormer room over the garage. While searching for Christmas boxes, I accidently touched the stairwell door with my big toe, and it opened. I fell through to the garage floor only after hitting against the front fender of the car, flying back against the truck, back against the car then to the floor. I could have, or shall I say should have died from the fall. That is what they said in the emergency room. I asked, why not me Lord?

Bad things happen to good people all the time. Some of the most loving, caring people I know, have had horrible things happen to them and we ask why?

God told me when I was a little girl I that I am his child. Armed with this knowledge, I knew he was sparing me, though I did not know or understand why. After the brushes with death that I have experienced over the past 25 plus years I knew God had a plan for me. I did not know or understand why or what His plan consisted of.

His patience with me has been miraculous for sure. Finally, I have figured it out. The revelation of His plan came to me last fall. As usual, He had to go to extreme measures to get my attention. I was napping on my sofa last fall and He rolled me off my couch. HE HAD MY ATTENTION.

I was lead to Ephesians 6:19 Pray also for me that God will give me a message when I am ready to speak so that I may speak boldly and make known the gospels secret. I have listened. I have prayed. God has placed His message of hope within my heart and I am ready to speak!

This is why God has spared me. His message and purpose for me is to spread His word through my testimony of healing and forgiveness. Do you listen to His messages?

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