We see colors of great intensity, breathing their last,
Each of those leaves was once just a seed – a tiny specimen of life –
Part of God’s amazing masterpiece.
That leaf turns green. Tiny veins spread throughout, carrying nutrients to each part of it.
Summer heat begins to sap the life from that leaf. Each gentle drop of rain restores it.
It suddenly becomes bathed in sunlight, heat and sometimes distress.
As the Autumnal equinox approaches, that leaf has changed.
Its edges begin to curl up. Its color becomes weathered. Its life is sapped.
Still, even in that glorious season, new life pours out of it in brilliant hues that only God can display. It resembles a Kaleidescope containing shards of colored glass, changing daily.
He paints each one from the extensive colors of His palette.
The winds and rains will cause it to fall to the ground from whence it came.
Each season has its own glory. They are all in our heavenly Father’s hands.
We are born in the season or spring, when new life begins.
The heat of summer expresses our youth and time of exploration and discovery.
In autumn, life is beginning to depart from us. Our strength withers. Our stamina is replaced with long naps.
In the winter of or life span, we die.
But this is just the beginning. For eternal life is waiting on the other side.
As both of us entered our 40th year of living, we surprised each other with a party that truly did surprise. In February, everyone hid in a photography studio as Paul & the photographer were off on a photo shoot. When it was over, they returned to the studio to be greeted by screams of “Surprise.” In June, it was payback time. I was surprised by a whole backyard full of friends at 9 AM. As he led me to the deck with a cup of coffee in hand, there they were. Thankfully, one of his gifts to me was a new bathrobe. We’ve always loved surprising each other with good times and friends.
Paul was at a point in his career when things were really going well. Our accountant suggested we buy a new house, because our current dwelling was no longer a tax break for us. We moved into our dream house. The foyer opened to a winding staircase, which I envisioned my two daughters descending in wedding dresses. I won’t spend a lot of time on that house, because, as with most of the bad situations in our life, I try to erase them from my memory. I’ve forgotten just about everything about it, except for that staircase and the last Christmas we spent there.
It was 1991. The bottom was falling out of the economy. Large corporations that had fed Paul’s agency for 12 years, were pulling their advertising in order to save money. Paul had to downsize his staff. People whom we had grown to love, had to be cut from the work force. It was one of the most difficult things he ever had to do. Letting those people go, was like cutting off one of his limbs. Within a year, the company folded completely as the bank called in its loan. There we were in this beautiful mansion, trying to figure out how we’d pay the final year of tuition for our youngest daughter to finish high school. Our son was one f the employees who had to be let go as well. Our oldest daughter worked for her dad for a while but was now starting a new life with her husband. The bottom was falling out.
We turned again to the only One who could fix things. God has been our ever-present help in good or bad times. Most of our friends were from our church or Paul’s business. We discovered who the real ones were during this time of transition. Our bank accounts were seized. Our cars were repossessed, and our house went into foreclosure. It was a dark time in our existence, but we continued to look for the positive in what was an almost impossible situation. It’s those times that held us tightly together, glued to the One who had always taken care of us. Paul kept a journal that read like the book of Psalms.
The house went up for sale and we were able to live there for another year. It was kind of ironic, living in a mansion but struggling to survive. God sent another angel to us. We’d encountered many in our life. Just when we thought we might have to live in a cardboard box, under a bridge, a former business associate offered us a house to buy on a contract for deed. Paul was 50. It was hard to get employment at that age. Up until then, we both took odd jobs to keep food on the table and afford us enough to buy a car. Eventually he was employed by another ad agency, back on the lowest rung of the ladder. I worked for a housecleaning service and eventually started cleaning houses on my own.
We had a second, third, fourth and fifth chance. God never gave up on us and we continued to follow the plan he had laid out for us. After a few years of restoration, Paul again decided to start another business. Wood Creek Designs was born out of that time of trial. When he picked up his wood chisels and started to carve things of beauty out of discarded wood, it was as if God was showing us another new path. For me, He had something else in mind. All those years of training young minds how to perform before an audience, allowed me to start a small business too. It’s really amazing how God has already planned our futures for us. It’s up to us to follow His lead.
We would live in the house we purchased from a real angel for 24 years. Approaching our next adventure would take us back to old stomping grounds, old church friends and a new community which would feed our love for the arts. We prayed this would be our final move, but God has other plans for us. I can’t wait to find out what they are.
Next time, I’ll share with you about that phrase in the marriage vows that talks about sickness and health. Our lives have been filled with both of those things. Through all of it God is faithful.
Our first year, like most young married couples, was filled with getting to know the real us. I would discover his passion for hunting. I already knew that being one with nature was part of him. Our honeymoon took us to the north shore of Minnesota, but it was bow hunting season in Wisconsin. I knew that, because we planned our wedding to avoid opening day of the season. Still, on that romantic trip, we stopped at my grandparent’s farm and Paul went hunting. I went along and sat in the car reading a book as I waitied for him to return with a huge deer. Time went by – maybe an hour or so. I had visions of his being trapped in quicksand with no way out. I thought maybe a wild animal was gnawing on his arm. In my panic, you’d think I would get out to look for him, but instead, I beeped the horn. Within minutes he appeared from the woods in a rage. It seems he had just drawn his bow and was ready to shoot a magnificent animal, when I laid on the horn. The incident almost ended our marriage, then and there.
As for me, I’ve always lacked self-confidence. When we would attend his work functions together, I always felt inadequate and out of place. He displayed confidence and could strike up a conversation with anyone. I always admired that trait in him. Eventually some of it began to rub off on me.
His love of hunting would become a seasonal event each year. I’d find dead pheasants in the refrigerator – with feathers and other parts completely in place. I became accustomed to weekend hunting adventures without me. Many times, he would come home empty handed, but in the midst of it all, he was getting a taste of another thing he loved – God’s beautiful creation. I discovered that this nature boy of mine, knew so much about flora and fauna, he could even come up with a cure for something out there in the woods.
During those first few years, we learned to be patient with each other as well as with our challenges in the workplace. He was working for a printing company, setting type like Ben Franklin once did. He was learning all the tools of the trade. I was trying to figure out the scribbles of my shorthand and learning how to adapt to my career in the business world. He was making $1.50 an hour and I brought home $1.25 and hour. Between the two of us, we had enough to pay the rent and eat. We bought our first house for $14,000 a few years later. We created three new lives during those early years. I became a housewife. The jobs on the ladder to success were many. We moved from Milwaukee to Appleton, Wisconsin. A few years later, we moved to Minneapolis. All of our moves took us to new jobs and new churches. We became involved in all of them. Most of our friendships came from our Sunday gatherings.
During my years as a housewife, there were times when I felt trapped. Most mothers do, I think. Especially when this is their full-time career. You go through changing diapers, cleaning up messes, trying to find time to teach, cuddle, read to and love your children, but often neglect yourself in the process. Dirty dishes would sit in the sink until suppertime. Chores would go undone in order to take a sick child to a doctor’s appointment. Potty training – sewing clothes rather than buying them – making sure they were healthy and happy – having a hot meal on the table. All of that was an amazing part of my personal growth. I had a family that depended on me for those things. Still, I felt unfulfilled. Mainly because the budget was exceeding the income. I felt I should be contributing. Eventually I was able to take jobs that would allow Paul to be home with our children while I worked a part time job at night.
During that time in Appleton, we experienced challenges, roadblocks and loss. Our family was growing, our struggles always led us to prayer as we muddled through. I could write a whole book about our children, but that will have to wait. This story is about us. I think every marriage goes through some rocky roads along the way, but if you share a common faith, you have much more of a chance for success. Maybe it won’t be material success, wealth or notoriety, but the one thing that matters most to both of you – your relationship with God will continue to grow. Ours wasn’t without problems though. We came from different backgrounds and many of those old habits wouldn’t change for a long time.
Paul was on the road to success. His years of training in printing, publishing, art, advertising, graphic design would allow him to eventually start his own business. By this time our kids were all in school and I started to focus on something I loved doing as a child. I became a volunteer drama director for our children’s high school. This would lead me back to school myself. I discovered that I could still write scripts. produce and direct them and be with my children while doing it. A win-win situation.
So much was going on around us. It was 1963. President John F. Kennedy was killed by an assassin’s bullet. The event was televised. A few days later, his funeral procession would also be seen on TV screens across the world. In 1963, Martin Luther King addressed the nation with his “I have a dream,” speech. The Beatles made their debut in America. There was rioting in the streets, looting and bloodshed, man’s inhumanity to his fellow man. Camelot was dead. America was changing in so many ways.
The man I loved was about to ask my father for my hand in marriage. My dad had a wry sense of humor and when Paul approached him with the question, he replied, “Go ahead. She’s your problem now.” The voice of tact had spoken, and we became engaged. A year later, my father would be exceptionally testy. He was doing weird things, like throwing the newspaper down the clothes chute and placing the coffee pot in the refrigerator. He was not a man of many words, but something seemed off. He would get angry about things that didn’t make sense. He was making me crazy, so I finally asked him what was going on, I never had the nerve to talk to my dad this way, Tears filled his eyes and he replied, “I’m having a hard time letting you go,” It was a week before the wedding. I was witnessing a completely different side of the dad I grew up with.
We married in that Gothic, Lutheran church that I grew up in. It was a beautiful wedding with all the trappings. The sermon was based on the 23rd Psalm, which would be repeated many events during our lifetime. A reception followed at a German restaurant that had become a favorite of my new husband’s family. Two families were joined as one.
One year later, my father-in-law would pass away in his sleep. This compassionate, loving, talented man was only 56 years old at his passing. Paul would now be called upon to take care of many arrangements, along with a mother who had completely broken down. We were just starting our marriage and a series of new events that would change our lives. We continued to press on, always trusting that God had a plan designed just for us. We were learning new lessons every day about life, death, survival, unconditional love and living for alone another.
As I write this story of ours, I can’t help but be moved by the comments of many of you. Everyone has a tale to tell. Each one is unique and filled with many twists and turns. With each story, we can learn something that will help us get through the tough times. Our story isn’t anything special, but for me it’s a way to explain how special life can be when you share it with the one you love and place God first in your marriage.
Can you imagine what God has planned for each of us. He promises that He will always be with us and that He has a plan designed for each one living on this planet. That’s what makes our stories so unique and interesting.
When I finished my last post, I was reminded that I broke up with Paul during that first year of college. It was a time when I doubted whether making a full commitment to this man was the right thing to do. We were both so young and inexperienced in the dating arena. We had become close friends through high school. We talked about our faith – we had questions about how we would go forward in our lives – he was sure what he wanted, I wasn’t. I felt this time apart would be a real test for us. We could be free to date others and then make up our minds what we would do in the future. He wasn’t happy about my decision. We went our separate ways. I dated one of my college friends. He dated a girl that he worked with at the “Y.” The chemistry wasn’t there for either one of us. I guess it didn’t take much testing for me to find out that my plan was a mistake. We were made for each other.
The first year of extended education was over. Paul would now head out for his stint in the Air Force. He enlisted in the Air National Guard and became an airplane mechanic. He sent me the above photograph in his uniform. My mother went berserk. She said he looked so handsome in that uniform. You’d think she was the one pledged to be his wife. He did look amazing though. When he came home after basic training, he had put on 20 pounds of muscle and had acquired a whole new vocabulary. He was dismissed from the dinner table for using some of it. That language eventually went away- thankfully. During his time in the reserves, Paul was called to be on alert for the Bay of Pigs Invasion. No one was sure what was going on at the time, but they had to gear up and get to the airport pronto. Again, God was guiding our future. The Invasion was avoided, but there was a lot of nail biting going on waiting.
I had another year of school. I was involved in the local learning channel puppet show productions. I acted as a stage manager. I look back at this time as a precursor to what I would do later in life with my writing skills and TV experience. I learned the art of Shorthand. I call it “an abstract art form.” I got my first real job at the end of the school year as a stenographer, because I had this ability. The problem is, I didn’t know what all those scribbles meant. It required me to ask my boss to repeat the letter. Eventually I worked from a dictaphone machine. My boss was a very understanding man. My place of employment was an advertising agency in the media department. I learned all about placing ad space and researching the demographics of specific areas. That experience came in handy when Paul went into the same field of endeavor.
That year went quickly and when he returned from the service, he enrolled in the Layton School of Art to study art. He became well versed in sculpture, design, painting and studying art history. All of those things helped him to follow the path he’d chosen for his life. I was now in the workplace and making money. After the ad agency folded, I found another job in a finance company, working as a cashier, loan closer and skip tracer, which was kind of like detective work. This is when I had the horrific experience of being robbed at gunpoint.
As you can see by the other photograph, Paul was now sporting a Van Dyke beard and mustache – very artsy. I was paying attention to the fashion magazines, with hair that reached the ceiling and required two cans of hair spray. We were a darling couple. We had no idea what we’d be getting into when we married, but it would be an adventure of a lifetime. We watched as some of our high school friends tied the knot. We waited again for the right time to get married. Believe it or not, we also waited to consummate our love until our wedding night. I know that isn’t the norm these days, but we were both glad we waited.
The summer of 1960 was filled with magic moments for both of us. Each had different plans for the next step in our education. I would have to work to pay for mine. So, I spent the summer working at the factory my father worked at. I got quite an education on the assembly line. Women of all ethnicities, coming from different rungs on the societal ladder, would sit for 8 hours a day, assembling miniscule parts. Everyone on the line smoked cigarettes as they worked. I guess that may be what got me into the habit. I knew it wouldn’t be good for me, but I succumbed to the second-hand smoke and decided to participate. I made enough money during that summer to pay for my first year of technical college.
Paul worked part-time as a gas station attendant. The cost of his education had already been budgeted by his parents, so much of his free time was spent at the family summer home on a lake. I’d join him on weekends with his family. I often tried to get up on water skis, but never did. He, on the other hand, was an expert at all water sports. He would spend those weekends as part of the crew on the large sailboats which sailed regattas. He also became a caddy at the golf course for many wealthy golfers. Throughout his life, he has been curious about everything. I’ve called my grandson a walking encyclopedia, but I often think my husband took part in writing those books.
As I was learning how to smoke and a whole different vocabulary, he was gaining confidence, good monetary tips, more knowledge about the upper class and living in a completely different world than mine. When we weren’t working, we spent time together. We’d play tennis – or should I say, he played tennis and I chased the ball. We took romantic walks along the lakeshore. We planned for our future together.
My mother became Paul’s greatest cheerleader. She was sure we’d be married and did everything in her power to make that happen. She tried to impress him with a turkey dinner, (Paul’s favorite) with all the fixings. She prepared the turkey before going to work, put it in the oven and forgot to turn on the timer. When she returned to finish the meal, the turkey was still raw. This happened again the next day. Finally, a turkey with all the fixings was presented at our dinner table. I’m not sure if she went out and bought a new one each time, or if it was the same turkey. He loved the meal and she felt vindicated. I remember a time when Paul had won a huge, fake diamond ring in a gum machine and placed it on my ring finger. My mom took me by the hand to get a better look at it in the light. Mom realized it was a fake and we all laughed about the entire incident.
In the crispness of Autumn, he would be off to Chicago, and we wouldn’t see each other again until Thanksgiving. During that interim, I was settling into a world of new thinking – away from the daily teachings of the Bible. I spent hours at the Milwaukee Public Library, trying to absorb every bit of culture I could. I’d read poetry and philosophical books as I sat in a chair with earphones playing classical music. I thought I was so sophisticated and free. There’s something about taking that step into adulthood and becoming a part of it. I was recognizing the plight of the lower classes. I felt bad about the prejudice that was building in my city. The power of the sexual revolution and the racist issues that were beginning to boil in the 60s ate away at mind. It was a time of wondering. Where was the justice in this world of mine? How could I be a link in changing any of it.
As I tried to imagine my place in this time, he was learning all about his own new world. The reality of life full of sin and darkness became his environment for a time. While living and going to school in Chicago, he began to see corruption, decline in morality, homelessness, depravity and a side of life that he had never witnessed before. Prior to this, he was shielded from experiencing any of it up until then. In his classes, he was learning all about anatomy while drawing sketches of nude models. All of this was a complete culture shock to him, but he pushed forward through it all. Both of us were entering a time of questions.
That first complete year together was filled with many memories, good and bad. When the school year ended, we were both changed. He would be leaving for his time in the military that summer. Six months of basic training at Lackland Air Force Base in Texas would keep us apart and writing letters. Our love for each other continued through those days, but I was starting to question our future. I began to question everything I had learned about God, about commitment and about love.
It was 1957. I thought I knew everything there was to know about everything. As a freshman in high school, we tend to think that way. My dreams of running away with the circus would be put on hold. I was about to embark on my high school years and so was he. We met, we became friends and since that first day, we’ve become friends forever. We attended a Christian High School in Milwaukee, which was on its structural last leg, but we would spend three years in that dilapidated building, which housed guard dogs during the evening hours. It was the same high school Paul’s father attended, so it had been through many years of teenage pranks during its history. There was an extension to the old, brick building called the “annex.” It was much like an old army barracks, unheated and furnished with old school desks. To think, my parents paid tuition so I could attend this place. It took me a long time to realize it, but some of the greatest friendships of my life were formed in that rundown edifice. By the time of our graduation in 1960, a new school was built, and we were part of the first graduating class.
Getting back to 1957. There were two groups of kids in our class – the preppies and the greasers. The preppies were those who planned to go on to college, become teachers or pastors and followed the dress code to a tee. The greasers were those “Fonzie” types, with greased back hair, leather jackets and attitude. The girls were just like you see in those old period movies about the 50s. Actors like Marlon Brando, James Dean and Tuesday Weld were greaser role models, while Pat Boone and Sandra Dee were definitely preppies.
It was the first day of English class with a new teacher, who just got his education degree. I was particularly excited, because our first assignment would be to read from some scripts from the “I Love Lucy Show.” Everyone had a chance to read, but I was paired with a skinny, yet adorable, brown-eyed fellow with a short haircut. His name was Paul. He would read the part of Ricky Ricardo and while I read Lucy’s part. I was in my element of course. We connected instantly – not only as the characters we were reading, but as fast friends who would one day fall in love.
We spent three full years in that building. Our gym was located across town at the Lutheran Center. The only way to get there was to take a city bus, or drive, if you had a car. One of our classmates drove a VW Beetle. No, we didn’t try to all squeeze into his vehicle, but being the only one with a car, he always was the first to arrive. When the bus arrived with the rest of us, he was already dressed for gym. Some of the guys, including Paul, thought they would teach this fellow a lesson. They somehow moved his car to the top of the steps leading to the building. That was the day when they arrived back at school, before the Beetle driver.
There were always adventures going on during this time. Chemistry experiments that went bad and caused the school to be evacuated – time in the student lounge where kids got to know each other – after school events, football games, building homecoming floats – all contributed to our years spent in that part of our education.
Finally, our senior year arrived. Paul was dating one of my best friends. We often went on “group dates.” By this time, he had the use of his father’s car to take all of us home. The car was also used in the transporting of the dearly departed from time to time. It was necessary for Paul to check in with his dad while using the car, in case a call came in at the funeral home. After one of these school events, Paul dropped my friend off first and then me. It was then that our friendship turned into more than that. He asked me to go steady a few weeks later. I accepted.
In those days, it was customary to exchange class rings. Girls would usually attach their steady’s ring to a chain and wear it around their neck. I was on the chubby side, so his ring fit perfectly on my ring finger. Girls would often wear the letter sweater of their steady. The sweater of course would be much too big and baggy. When I received Paul’s, I couldn’t button it. It must’ve been true love, because both of us were focused on the inner rather than the outer appearance. Those early days were about to open new doors and experiences as we graduated. He would go on to the Art Institue in Chicago to study art. I went to the Milwaukee Institue of Technology to work on a career in journalism and work for the school TV station.
The next episode will include the time between 1960 to 1964.
For some reason, WordPress deleted part of my story. This has happened to me before. I have updated the post and you should be able to read it in its entirety now.
Who knew? These two little tykes would someday grow up and become one in marriage. He was from the northside of Milwaukee, and I was from the southside. Even in these early photos, Paul and Kathy were made for each other. It’s true, you know, that God creates the perfect match. He planned it before we were even joined at His altar. He designated us to be together for a lifetime – to grow old together and to share each other’s problems, hopes, dreams and failures. They say that growing old together is a wonderful thing, because you truly become one person. I thought that saying was so romantic when I first heard it, but I didn’t count on bodies falling apart, stretch marks and wrinkles, hearing problems, communication issues, health issues. Through all of it we’ve shared a remarkable life together.
As we reach the end of that journey, I thought I’d share some of the events that made the Boecher family who they are today. Most people would consider it an average life. We were never famous or notorious. We lived with our share of problems, but the one thing that kept us together was having God as our center. Both of us were brought up in Christian families. Both were baptized. He went to Christian schools from kindergarten to 12th grade, while I attended public schools through 6th grade. In 7th grade, I must’ve needed special attention, so was enrolled in a parochial school and continued through high school. These little vignettes are a tribute to us and a record for our family to cherish. If I ever write a book about it, you’ll hear many more details about the things that kept us hopping during this life.
When we both were about the same age as the above photos, we lived in close proximity of each other, but weren’t acquainted. Our mothers may have pushed our baby carriages around the same block at one point, but we never actually met until we were Freshmen in high school. He lived above a funeral home – the family business. I lived in rental properties until I was 25 when the two of us bought our first house together. His family was wealthy. Mine made a fair amount, but we weren’t considered rich by a long shot. His home in a funeral home led to many interesting stories of wearing tailored suits and white shirt and tie. This fact probably influenced his distaste for “dressing up,” and turned him to flannel and denim in his later years – always sprinkled with some remnants of a painting he worked on. I was an apartment dweller and never failed to be well dressed, even though it would stretch the budget tremendously. The boy with a silver spoon in his mouth and a girl with a plastic one, would someday become man and wife.
His childhood was spent surrounded by death and having compassion for those who were left behind. He became one with a tender, loving heart. He had a giant playroom in the basement of the mortuary, which was turned into an archery range, a science lab and room for many dance parties after football games. He stored live garter snakes as specimens in the window well near his science lab. One day, as a funeral was in progress upstairs, the snakes escaped from their sanctuary and slithered into the smoking room, where several ladies had gathered. That brought about an end to the science lab.
I on the other hand was pinning bed sheets to a clothesline to use as a backdrop for the many plays I’d written and forced our neighbor kids to be part of. We’d make little bags of popcorn and sell lemonade at our homemade refreshment stand. Of course, I had the lead in all of the productions, I directed them and costumed them. This love of performance would eventually follow me to a point later on when I would fulfill that dream. I even had an opportunity to act as a vocal coach for one of the clowns in the Cirque du Soleil. I often thought about running away and joining the circus.
Our early years were spent in separate churches – both in the German gothic style – adorned with amazing stained glass and beautiful statuary and paintings. He was the bell ringer at his church from little on and would often be lifted off the ground while doing so. We both attended Lutheran churches. His proclaimed the Gospel while mine dwelled on the law of Moses. A pastor would rise to the height of the pulpit, where he would spew fire and brimstone and scare the hell out of me. I have always felt a strong sense of guilt for my sins. It would certainly have an effect on my spiritual life for a very long time. He, on the other hand, was receiving the joy of Jesus and His love for us.
It would be a number of years before we’d actually meet each other, but I’ll save that for the next episode of “The Story of Us.”
In looking at this photo, my husband and I could be mistaken for the “Yellowstone” Duttons of 1893 or 1923. Paul always said he was born in the wrong time period. He was not made for the new technology age, nor the modern day morality and lack of values. I guess he thinks it would’ve been better to have lived in a time when men were men and women were women. A time when law and order was a shot in the dark. When a man wore a gun and blue jeans. When a woman dressed in clothes that truly identified her as a woman. Today, as we watch movies about the old west, the gunfights, the terror in the streets, I think I prefer living in the time period which God intended for us. Such a time as this.
In the next couple weeks, I’ll be sharing some stories about the two of us – our journey – our walk with God – our hopes and dreams. Eventually a new book may evolve from them. I feel that our “Love Story,” will apply to many couples out there today. They will give you glimpse into the past – Tell you about some of our struggles, successes and dreams – give an example of our faith and the way it has held us together for almost 59 years.
I believe that every one of us has a story that can help someone else to model theirs. God’s story has been the center of our lives throughout our marriage. At times we wondered if He could hear us – if He really cared about us – if we would survive – if we were making the right choices and adjusting to the world today.
“So the Lord God caused a deep sleep to fall upon the man, and while he slept took one of his ribs and closed up its place with flesh. And the rib that the Lord God had taken from the man he made into a woman and brought her to the man. Then the man said, “This at last is bone of my bones and flesh of my flesh; she shall be called Woman, because she was taken out of Man.” Genesis 2:21-23
Change can be good; it can drive us crazy; it can be difficult, but it will happen to everyone. When something disrupts our comfort zone it can really shake us up. The world is in a constant state of flux. Sometimes it’s difficult to understand how changes in morals and ideas occur, but it just shows us how sneaky the devil is. He gets into our moral fiber and slowly eats away at it until it becomes totally unrecognizable. We all have access to the one thing that never changes – the actual words of God which have been preserved for us in the Bible. If you want consistency, that’s where to go.
Thank you, Lord, for giving us your Holy Word; for inspiring men with those words and for keeping it alive today. Even though our world is constantly changing, your love and your laws never do. Amen!
Proverbs 16:9 ESV “The heart of man plans his way, but the Lord establishes his steps.”
Whether you’re a child, teen, adult or aging person, you will have to make difficult choices in this life. There will be many along the way. When you’re growing up, you decide to take a chance which might prove dangerous. When you reach your teens, you imagine that you are invincible and nothing can harm you, so you might make foolish decisions that lead you down another difficult road. When you reach your adult years, you are supposedly at your prime. You make bigger choices that will affect you and those around you. You choose a mate. You find your career. You discover new avenues to take. You buy a house, you have a family, you plan for your retirement. When you reach your senior years, you find that many of the choices you made up until now, haven’t really gotten you where you thought you’d be. You are now faced with life and death choices. When your years come to an end and you take your final breath, will you have made the important choice to follow Jesus?
Each of the choices we make in our journey, will be much easier if we put our faith in Him. When you pray before making a decision and have peace with it, chances are you are making the right choice. Placing your trust in the Creator of the universe is really a no brainer. He has already planned your life for you. He knew you before you were formed in your mother’s body. He determined the length of your days. He is with you through every situation. He will never leave you. He loves you with an unconditional love that you can’t begin to understand. He always keeps His promises. He would die for you. If you haven’t heard, He was willing to shed His own blood for you. He has a place waiting for you in heaven, where you will never feel pain – never be afraid – never be in a dangerous situation – never shed a tear. He’s waiting for you to find Him. He will be revealed to you in the pages of His inspired Word, the Bible. Open one today. Not only will you gain eternal life, but your choices here on earth will be much easier.
The promises of streets of gold and no more tears to shed, Hope for peace and quiet times – no more fear of falling dead, The feast that goes on day and night and never fails to please, A life of independence and of everlasting ease.
Times of quiet contemplation and ever-present peace, Days that wander into nights and joys that will just increase, The perfect habitation, a heavenly, tranquil space, A place where you can talk to God and look Him in the face.
Yet life still holds its treasures, it’s so hard to say goodbye, The people we’ve grown close to, will grieve us when we die, No more are we connected, beyond fading memories, That will remain for quite a while, but wither with the trees.
The things that we accomplish here, while we are still alive, Are still of use as God’s own tools, to help others survive, Our final rest will come at last when we turn back to dust, But God has not forgotten us, in that we too can trust.
So, use me, Lord and let your love be evident in me, And while I live and breathe each breath, inspire and set me free, To do your everlasting will, to serve you without fear, To treasure life with all its faults and know that you are near.
“Anxiety does not empty tomorrow of its sorrows, but only empties today of its strength.”
Charles Spurgeon
It was a glorious day. The skies were crystal clear of any clouds. The air was autumn crisp. Children were off to school. Life was happening all around. Suddenly, the sky was pierced with a deadly attack that would live in minds and hearts all around the world. We sat in the comfort of our homes as the tragedy unfolded right before our eyes. How could this be? Airplanes were attacking the nation’s Big Apple. Within moments the clear blue sky filled with black, death-filled clouds. We were stunned, amazed, angry, fearful. We couldn’t begin to imagine that planes could be hi-jacked and used as weapons of mass destruction, but there it was. Right before eyes. Our son called from his car to find out what was going on. Scattered news reports were exploding on his radio. Still, it wasn’t clear what was happening.
Everyone has a story about this day – 09/11/2002. Most of us remember what we were doing and how it made us feel. How could this possibly happen in our own country? It seemed like we were watching a movie, but the special effects were reality. As rescue teams responded and many of them lost their lives, smoke and ash continued to spew out of the two buildings in the center of New York. People were jumping out of windows to their death in order to escape the heat of the flames. They chose to end their lives in their own way. Meanwhile our nation was under attack by a terrorist cell determined to bring death to America. Another plane, flown by yet another suicide hi-jacker, hit the Pentagon on the west side of the complex. Yet another plane crashed into a field in Pennsylvania. The passengers inside all died, but they did so by fighting back. That plane was supposed to hit the capitol building in Washington, DC, but was diverted by a group of passengers that would die as heroes. Days later, funerals would be held for the victims of the day. Tears flowed, people melted in each other’s arms, we were in a state of shock.
During times of trouble, we seem to rally as a nation. We forget about bias and bigotry for a while and focus on unity. That evening we attended church service as many other Americans across the country did. We sang patriotic songs and displayed American Flags. The flames of the day ignited something else in our country. Patriotism was revived. The next day war was declared on terrorism. Within a very short time, men and women died giving their lives for their country. Families waited for the flag draped caskets to be delivered..
Today, services will be held in remembrance of this horrid event. Names will be read as a bell tolls. Tears will be shed again as the memory of that day remains in the hearts of many. When I look at America today, I wonder if we learned anything from this disaster and the others that followed. Patriotism is a thing of the past in many cases. Wars continue to be fought. Lives end. We try to make sense of the “why.” We blame God, but He isn’t the One to be cursed. Evil will be with us as long as we live, but God will never change. He is good and His mercy endures forever. Even when we think that our country is going to hell in a handbasket, God continues to spread His wings over us. We need to call on Him again today, to rule over our land.
Twenty two years ago, was the height of the hurricane season. Hurricane Erin developed from a tropical wave on September 1st, threatening to land in Bermuda. The airports there were shut down and flights from there were delayed. This was the longest-lived hurricane of the 2001 season. I wonder how this might have affected the incident that occurred on the next day at the World Trade Center in New York City. Instead, the hurricane shifted and moved to the northeast, and turned into an extratropical storm. There was no resulting damage to property. September 11 would be a beautiful day, with clear blue skies and on time flights. The next day would be clouded with smoke from two burning skyscrapers.
On the 10th of September 2001, the armed forces in the United States were considered to be peacetime military. The next day, war was declared on terrorism. Broadway was showing “Les Miserables.” George W. Bush had a 55% approval rating after only 7 months in office. On the evening of the 10th, he was enjoying a leisurely dinner with his brother Jeb in Florida. It would mark the end of such days in just a few hours. 2,977 people went about their business in a carefree manner, without much thought about what would happen the next day. They would become part of a list of statistics that no one wanted to read. The congress was in a state of division – much like today. The next day, we were no longer a nation divided. We were all Americans. Flags were purchased and flown in honor of our nation. A few days later they would all have been sold out. Patriotic songs were sung in churches all over America.
It was probably a day like any other, for most of us. When we woke the next morning and turned on the news, we were stunned by what was happening in New York. We felt violated as a nation, vulnerable, unsafe, fearful. Twenty two years have passed since that fateful day. Today we are once again a nation divided. Crime is running rampant. Technology is pretty much in control of everything. Focus is on gender identity, Artificial Intelligence and climate change. Violence is the fare of the day and morality is in the sewer. We are not currently in a war. Law enforcement is undergoing great changes. We have just come off of a three-year period of isolation. We rarely communicate the way we should. Our words are often mis-interpreted. Our churches are suffering for membership. There is lack of patriotism in our country. Kids are afraid of going to school for fear of mass shootings. Did we learn anything from the past?
One thing I know for sure is that God never changes. He will be the same as He was at the beginning of time throughout eternity. We can count on Him. We should count on Him. He is the only One we can count on.
2 Chronicles 7:14 KJV “If my people, which are called by my name, shall humble themselves, and pray, and seek my face, and turn from their wicked ways; then will I hear from heaven, and will forgive their sin, and will heal their land.”
When you’re in your 80s, it’s not unusual to spend a lot of time in waiting rooms. The one pictured is quite nice. I took the photo while waiting for Paul to get his eyes examined yesterday. As we sat there for 15 minutes, (we always arrive early) Paul mentioned that we had to stop meeting this way. I’ve noticed a lot of changes as time progresses. Most of these areas are filled with fairly comfortable chairs and decorated in rather quiet colors of beige or grey. Walls usually include huge paintings to liven things up a bit. There used to be lots of magazines on the tables to thumb through while you wait, but you no longer see those. Today, most folks are glued to their phones instead. I imagine this is for the better, since you don’t know what kind of germs you might pick up from those magazines.
I’ve also begun to rate waiting rooms. Most of them are pretty generic. Some are filled with light and are coated with white sterile walls, while others are comforting and good for meditating. Most folks don’t stop to think about the decorating of these rooms. Our oldest daughter is an interior designer for such spaces and much of what I’m talking about is considered in the plans. When you’re a patient, you aren’t really interested in the decor, but when you’re waiting for someone to see the doctor, your eyes tend to wander. I’m a people person, so I enjoy watching others. Sometimes you see worry and anxiety covering their faces. Other times, they may be in a hurry and frustrated because of the wait. Some are so into their phones that they don’t hear when their name is called. Some have children with them, causing a brief escape from worry. These little ones become the entertainment for those who wait.
Some rooms have candy dishes with delicious things to nibble on as you sit there. The oncology waiting room is especially good for that. They have the most delightful treats. Some provide coffee with all the fixings or water dispensers if you’re thirsty or in need of caffeine. They all have hand sanitizer, which your never saw before COVID. I suppose I might make a career out of rating waiting rooms. There have been a lot of them lately.
Waiting isn’t easy. You can do so in a well decorated room or while waiting for the sun to rise. We’re hoping for a good diagnosis, an answer, a look at something beautiful or the future. Our perspective is going to change the way we wait. We can dwell on the outcome, or we can welcome it. It takes a patient person to be a patient. Even when our minds wander, or negative thoughts get in the way, your time can be used to pray, to watch, to listen – to plan – or all of those things.
Romans 8:18 “For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us.”
1 John 3:2 “Beloved, we are God’s children now, and what we will be has not yet appeared; but we know that when he appears we shall be like him, because we shall see him as he is.”
isaiah 40:31 “But those who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles; they shall run and not be weary; they shall walk and not faint.”
So, maybe our time on earth is like being in a waiting room, or a holding pattern. We’re here to experience the trials and tribulations of living along with the beauty of God’s creation and love. Soon the waiting will ending and we will experience paradise.
This a photograph taken yesterday as we search for autumn color. It was a cloudy day, so not much to see, but there is a hint of richness appearing on a few trees. A favorite time for Paul & me as we continue our weekly short road trips. Living life, day by day.
As I reach the end of my years, I find I have a lot of good information stored up in this old decrepit mind of mine. If I don't write it all down, it may vanish and no one will have the advantage of my thoughts. This is why this blog exists. I love the Lord, Jesus with all my heart and soul. I know I'm undeserving of all He's done for me, but I also know that His love is beyond my comprehension.
I've always wanted to write. I never kept diaries, but tucked my thoughts in my head for future reference. I use them now in creating stories, plays, poetry and my blog.
I continue to learn every day. I believe the compilation of our time spent with God will have huge affect on the way we live. I know I'm a sinner and I need a Savior. I have One through Jesus, Christ.
My book, "Stages - a memoir," is about the seven stages of life from the perspective of a woman. It addresses all the things girls and women go through in life as they travel it with Jesus, and it is available on Amazon.com.
Life is a patchwork of moments — laughter, solitude, everyday joys, and quiet aches. Through scribbled stories, I explore travels both far and inward, from sunrise over unfamiliar streets to the comfort of home. This is life as I see it, captured in ink and memory. Stick around; let's wander together.
God's amazing grace removes walls and replaces those barriers with Jesus, freedom from sin's consequences, freedom to forgive, and freedom to love unconditionally.
atimetoshare.me 
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