Lessons from the Bed Desk

I’ve just returned from what seems like a long journey.  Even now things seem … surreal, and like I am not yet back in my body.  For 7 days I’ve been on doctor ordered bed-rest, or bed-desk as I prefer to call it since I had to work the whole time.    I have discovered a new depth of respect for those who are chronically ill, who must fact long-term treatments for chronic illness, and for those who for whatever reason have permanently lost their ability to speak. 

I was reminded how fragile this physical life is, and at the same time how amazingly designed by God are these human bodies.   Especially the pulmonary systems - the delicate act of respiration, and the incredible amounts of mucous that can be produced with respiratory illnesses.  The doctor diagnosed me with an upper respiratory bronchial infection; undiagnosed but recognized was the very real possibility of pneumonia, given my symptoms and history, and all this was later complicated by learning I’d been exposed to whooping cough at a local hospital while visiting. 

For some reason this area has become my Achilles heel, my constant weakness, as an adult.  I wasn’t plagued with it as a child, but since a near-fatal bout of pneumonia and Type A flu back in the early 1990’s that has been my area of struggle regarding health.  If our government proceeds down this current health “care” disaster road, I’ll be a prime candidate for the death panels:  serious asthma for which I take 3 meds, allergies, and history of respiratory infections and sleep apnea – oh the bureaucrats will love me. 

I am grateful, still and always, for modern technology that allows working remotely, for access to good doctors and medicines and the means to pay for it.  For living in a country where those things are taken for granted, expected as part of a typical American’s life, and without which we get very impatient and cranky. 

When life throws me a curve ball God has taught me to avoid the Why questions and ask instead Lord, What do you want me to learn from this thing?  That is infinitely the more useful question.  During this illness I was moved to cling to 2Co. 12:9, where the Lord told Paul “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.”  Instead of asking why me, why now, why on a 3 day holiday weekend, why when I have so much do to, why this illness, etc., I found if I simply acknowledged that this is what God is allowing me to go through and there must be a reason I could accept that and have grace for the task at hand or the difficult symptoms of the illness, or both.

Easier said than done, but very doable when you have Jesus on the throne of your heart and His strength to do the work.   There was a reason that I have these things written at the top of my page in my prayer lists:

          God is more interested in my growth than my accomplishments.

          God’s will is not about my plans

          Ps 71:14  -  I will always have hope

          Ps 125:1  -  Be unmoved by circumstances

          Ph 4:19    -  God will supply all my needs.

          Lk 1:13     -  Never give up, the grace of going on

God is Truth, and He has never failed to keep any of His promises.  I found that indeed His grace was sufficient during that hell-week.  There was only one day that was particularly hard; I shed lots of tears, started to feel sorry for myself and in general had myself a nice little pity party.  When it had subsided, I realized that I had let my focus shift from Christ to circumstances, and when that happens I always get off track.    Even as a believer, when I KNOW I’m a child of the King, that I have the joy of my eternal salvation and the knowledge of all my blessings and many answered prayers, that nothing can separate me from God’s love – even with all of that sometimes Satan can crush my spirit, my hope, and start me down the road of despair.  Why?  Because I take my eyes off the Lord and focus on me instead of what He is doing in me.  When I focus too much on me and how badly I feel I become miserable.  But when I step out of my pain and pray for others, or just read the Word, His grace IS sufficient.  It’s true – try it for yourself and find the freedom that is the life of a Christ follower!

I was reminded anew of the power of prayer, how you can somehow tangibly feel the prayers of God’s people.  It is a humbling, amazing thing.   I can’t imagine what it would be like to go through life without that. 

Toward the end of my bed rest I opened one of my favorite devotionals, Oswald Chambers’ My Utmost for His Highest, and the bookmark was placed at a date about two weeks earlier.  I glanced at the next page and knew immediately that God wanted me to read it that day, the day I found it.  I couldn’t miss the message intended for me:

The Habit of Enjoying the Disagreeable

  Do I manifest the essential sweetness of the Son of God, or the essential irritation of “myself” apart from Him?  No matter how disagreeable a thing may be, say:  “Lord I am delighted to obey Thee in this matter,” and instantly the Son of God will press to the front, and there will be manifested in my human life that which glorifies Jesus.

… you cannot keep yourself fit to let Him be manifested if you give way to self-pity.   It is one thing to choose the disagreeable, and another thing to go into the disagreeable by God’s engineering.   If God puts you there, He is amply sufficient.

Other lessons learned.  I need to do more of what I do best when it comes to audit time at work – delegate.  There are things I can do post-audit to try and improve the billing process now that should help next year at audit time if they are consistently implemented.  I need to figure out a pro-active process to identify and correct errors prior to their being tagged in audit.  I can hand off more administrative responsibilities to some around me, and I must find a way to make some of that permanent.  Our CEO was right to comment in a meeting earlier this year that we have GOOD people at our company.  We do.  We have done some pruning in the past year and the resulting team is really good and excellent to work with.  We will get past the backlash of errors from those who are no longer with us, and I don’t need to let those define our corporate identity in the support staff arena.

And thank God for a blog!  It’s been too long since I’ve used it to free up all the stress captured in my body (the best example of which is blog 1 about the Duke Disaster) and I think I may have produced one of my better ones in Nightmare on Audit Street.  What a great God we serve – He gives me a love of writing, some talent with which to work, and many avenues to explore the use of this gift.  So, onward in health, in writing, and in a life lived out in gratitude to the only One who is worthy.

Nightmare on Audit Street

Audit:  1.  an official examination and verification of accounts and records, especially financial accounts.  2.  a report or statement reflecting an audit; a final statement of account.  (Dictionary.com)

April is always my favorite time of the year – winter is gone, summer isn’t quite here yet and wildflowers are in full bloom.  Everything is beautiful, new, fresh, inspiring hopeful.  Except the audit work with which I am tasked each year at this time.  The bond numbers may be “fresh” for the current year, but there is nothing beautiful, new, fresh, inspiring or hopeful about this process – at least not to me.

I’m a writer by nature, an Administrative Manager and Human Resources professional by vocation, and spiritually a Christ follower.  There is not a bone in my body that understands, identifies with or appreciates anything about audits or auditors.   As I often say at work, “math is not my thing.”  Details?  Yes.   Procedures?  Absolutely.   Rules and Regulations?  I was born to be a hall monitor.  Doing things the right and most efficient way?  In my blood.  But auditing?  No way.  From where I sit it’s just a bunch of accountants who don’t understand our industry who look for errors, refuse to take what we consider supporting documentation as such and who wouldn’t know a working day from a calendar day if it bit them in the butt.

This year I got my first list from the Wis (my pet name for our CFO, who is an absolute PRINCE in my book – whatever he gets paid it’s not enough) on March 30^th.  It was a tame little list of 60 or so bonds and I worked it through and sent it back.  Then the annual routine began.  Based on the auditor’s pickiness findings, I received another list, then another, of bonds which I had to review.  My responsibility is to review the way the bond was billed in the system, research the supporting documentation and either clarify it, find it if it isn’t on file, or admit to error and show support for the correct dates.  The support docs I provide have to be accessed, the appropriate sections pulled and annotated, saved to a folder supposedly accessible by the auditors and ready to be pulled again at any time.  There is of course a tracking list to enter all the data, and to monitor which bonds have had support provided ongoing.  There is also the fun task of having to loop in an underwriting assistant or underwriter, explain what I need and why I need it and when I have to have it and how it has to come to me and yes I really need it that way and that quickly.   These are the things that I am tasked with.  Not a big deal really.  Unless over the course of 2 months it amounts to nearly 1,000 bonds, many of which had to be looked at again and again as the auditors back and forth questioning went on.  And on … and on … and on.

The Friday before Memorial Day I was finishing up what I hoped was the almost last batch when the Wis sent me my “last” (ha ha, ho ho , he he, oh that is funny) audit list to research.  It contained 310 bonds each of which needed to be researched and an adequate support doc or explanation provided.  I was by now weary of the process but such is life, it’s part of my job, and since I was sick anyway and on bed rest per the doc I figured what is one Memorial Day weekend to have to work through.  It’s not a real sacrifice like those men who died so that we might life free.  Having been steeped in the Word and “prayed up” I did pretty well with my attitude Friday upon receiving the list.  God’s Grace was sufficient for me again on the Saturday, Sunday and Monday of Memorial Day weekend - which I spent alternately resting due to my illness and working on the audit – and even on Tuesday, after receiving spreadsheets with auditor questions on bonds I’d reviewed that needed my reply comments, when I realized gosh, it still wasn’t over, I was still on “bed-desk” and now working 14 hours days to get this accomplished.  But Wednesday was another story.

First, I didn’t start out with my regular prayer time, which always sets the tone for my day – big mistake.  I had been up late the night before, didn’t sleep well due to the coughing spells and awoke late at 8:30 to find four emails from my CFO about the day’s work that lay ahead.  Something in me snapped when I read that 4^th email with yet another list.  Did these auditor people not have a heart or soul?  Were they simply masochists at the core, sitting in their borrowed cubicles rubbing their hands together in glee at the agony they were inflicting on our staff?  Or were they just geeky nerd droids who had zero life and it never occurred to them that others might have other things to do like a regular job or get enough sleep?  Perhaps they were control freaks who relished the power of being able to tell others what to do, the timeframe in which to do it, and upon completion of the task immediately circle back with inane questions or thrice repeated requests for the same exact documents.  (Personally I’m convinced they ask for the same document over and over to try and get us to send different or conflicting ones, thinking that what we’d initially sent was inadequate.  No one working for a top national accounting firm making big bucks could possibly be that stupid or sloppy to miss something so clearly identified in a folder set up exclusively for their use.)  Or perhaps they were truly just doing their very best to do a thorough job before issuing a financial report on our company.          Nah, that couldn’t be it…..

Today is June 1^st, and the Wis says we have completed our last, Truly final round of Q&A with the auditors.  This never ending, audit without end, Nightmare on Audit Street is really over.  I think I believe him.  And I have a final word for the auditors (whom I sincerely hope never end up reading this blog). 

Good riddance I say! 

Here’s your hat, what’s your hurry? 

Don’t let the door hit you in the butt on the way out. 

Can I call you a cab? 

You made my life a living hell! 

Get on back to your fancy office and quit taking up real estate in a busy surety company’s office. 

We gave at the office – really, we gave it ALL!  Blood, sweat, tears, everything but the grandchildren and you aren’t getting them! 

Bon voyage!  Auf Wiedersehen!  Aloha!  Happy Trails!  GOODBYE!

The Harper Dynasty

J. D. Harper was one of the kindest men I ever knew.  I first met him in the late 1970’s when I moved onto Brentwood Street.  As a young adult in my twenties right out of college I didn’t have much money after paying rent and bills.  But the folks at the neighborhood shopping center always treated me with friendliness and the utmost and respect.  At the Crestview Minimax the owner, Herb Prellop, always greeted me by my first name.  What little dry cleaning I had I took to Sabrina at Perfecto Cleaners.  I got my hair cut at Crestview Beauty Salon.  And all my drug store needs were met by Mr. and Mrs. Harper at Crestview Pharmacy.

Most of the time I just needed sundries but occasionally I needed to fill a prescription and Mr. Harper always had what I needed.  Their service was so fast there was never a need to wait, but often I would stay a bit and talk with Mr. Harper about how business was, or the weather.  Or Mrs. Harper would fill me in on the latest about the children and grandchildren as they started to come along.  I could look up above the counter and keep with the grandchildren and follow their progress through school. 

Once I was very sick and went to the pharmacy to get a prescription filled.  When Mr. Harper told me how much the medicine was my face fell.  I realized I didn’t have enough money to pay for it and payday was still a week away.  He was very kind and suggested that he set me up with a charge account.  I didn’t even know what that was.   He had to explain that it would allow me to sign for my purchases, they would send me a statement in the mail and I could send them a check.  I was amazed - me, a young lady with no credit worthiness other than my promise to pay and the fact I was a regular customer – I had my very own charge account at a local business!   My loyalty to the Harpers was cemented in that moment and I remain a customer to this day. 

Later when I was married and began to have babies I would bring them to the pharmacy with me.  Mrs. Harper always oohed and aahed over them and I solicited her advice on their current health or development issues.  She gave her opinion about colic, sleep habits, toilet training.  When they got older they began to look forward to the pieces of candy she would hand out to them.  Going to the pharmacy was always a treat for them.  Years later when they were in high school and driving, I could send them to the pharmacy and they could pick up our medicine by simply signing on the account. I’d get a statement to review for exactly what they signed for and that added some accountability along with their new-found freedom.

I knew that J.D. was well-educated, a successful businessman, husband, father, grandfather and knew the pharmacy business well.  At his memorial service, I learned also that he was a fellow-Believer, a veteran, an entrepreneur, a native of Ranger, Texas, and had a wonderful dry sense of humor.  Mrs. Harper was his high school sweetheart and they were married over 55 years. 

Attending Mr. Harper’s service was very important to me.  We must never let our lives get so busy that we don’t make time to honor the lives of those who have made a huge impact on our own.   J. D. Harper was a good, honorable man who made a significant impact in my life and who was a great help to me when I needed it most.  I praise the Lord for J.D.’s life, for the lives of his sons who will carry on the Harper Dynasty, and for the continued opportunity to show my gratitude and loyalty by giving my business to the Harpers at Crestview Pharmacy.

Easter

Easter morning.  Cool spring breezes move through the morning air, the birds celebrate the advent of spring with their songs, and the flowers boast in their vibrant colors as they welcome the day.  I love Easter; as a Christian I am one of the Easter people.  Easter means the Resurrection of Jesus, preached about by all good pastors each year on this special morning.  It means church and dressier clothes and special music and together time with some of our family and maybe a special meal.

This year we were blessed to celebrate it with Emily and Molly and their wonderful parents, so Easter also meant granddaughters in pretty pastel dresses, lacy topped socks, shiny shoes and special hairbows.  Fresh innocent faces and hugs that make my heart sing.   In the morning before church we open their Easter baskets with plastic eggs holding candy and coins.  I read the Easter Story aloud as we sample candy for a pre-breakfast snack.

We drive to their church, the girls contentedly in the back seat of our car while their parents follow behind.  Seated in a pew in the center of the balcony I take in the gorgeous view.  My husband and daughter are on one side of me and my granddaughter is on the other, wearing the charm bracelet I’ve begun for her.  Magnificent music swells from the orchestra, with full choir and pipe organ set against lovely majestic stained glass windows.  What heavenly moments, beginning with Joyful, Joyful We Adore Thee, then a good sermon about the evidence of the Resurrection as it was displayed in the lives of the disciples, and ending with the Halleluiah Chorus from Handel’s Messiah.   Absolute bliss.   Just when I think my heart can’t take any more or it will burst, I hear my precious Emily’s sweet 5 year old voice beside me singing the “halleluiahs.  I feel as if I am already in heaven.  What better evidence of a Universe-Creator God, the Highest Power, than through music that originates in the hearts of men and which cannot help but come out to praise You!

From empty plastic eggs to the empty tomb, we also offer our praise to you Father. 

Alleluia!  He is Risen!  He is Risen indeed!

Our Spring Break Adventure

Actually, our “Spring Break” was to be a weekend trip out of state for a wedding.  The wedding for my “second daughter” - as dear a daughter to me as if she were my flesh and blood.  We would be leaving on the first Friday of the two weeks that encompass Spring Break so I knew we’d need to allow extra time at the airport. 

That Friday morning I was up at 4:30 a.m., feeling quite proud that the night before I’d packed everything except last minute toiletries and makeup.  I woke Paul up, and finished arranging my carry-on bag with reading materials and snacks (lots of snacks) while he showered.  We left the house a little later than I would have liked but I felt confident that we’d still have plenty of time.  The offsite parking lot was quick and efficient, and no sooner had we parked and unloaded bags than the shuttle arrived.  As we boarded the shuttle I began to get that excited “finally, I’m on vacation” feeling.

We checked our bags curbside and walked quickly into the terminal.  I was ready to get at the end of the line where the security lanes were cordoned off.   I wasn’t ready for was the security officer to re-direct me from the cordoned lanes over to the true end of the line which snaked back almost to the door through which I had just entered the building.  Moving to where he directed, I surveyed the long, slow moving lines of people and began to cry.  At that moment I realized there was no way we would be able to get through this line in time to make our flight.  I was instantly angry at myself for not leaving earlier and full of despair at the prospect of missing this flight, the connecting flight, and ultimately my daughter’s wedding. 

My husband took one look at me and immediately he sprang into action.  He told me to stay put and he would scope out other available security lines.  I stood forlornly in place, trying not to look at the screens which displayed the Departures, clearly showing Flight #791 “On Time”.  I tried to hold back the tears.  I’m not typically given to discouragement and despair, but this seemed impossible and I had no one to blame but myself. 

Looking up I saw Paul walking toward me, gesturing me to come out of the line and join him.  I hesitated, unwilling to lose even this paltry place in line, but knowing he wanted to make this wedding as much as I did.  I re-shouldered my bag and walked at my quickest pace to join him.  We were walking so fast I couldn’t keep up but I began to have a glimmer of hope.  Paul led me to a different checkpoint where the line was indeed a bit shorter and actually moving.  Still, as we took up our new position at the tail end of this line the tears once again formed in my eyes.  There was simply no way we could make it through this crowd and board our plane on time.  

I thought of Lena and how she was counting on us to be there for her special day.  I thought of my “first” daughter and her husband, waiting to meet us at the airport and also wanting us to be there.  I tried to steel myself for missing the flights.  I thought about finding another airline that could get us there regardless of the airfare cost and how we could possibly make the connections work to get to the east coast in time.  I could NOT bear the thought of not making that plane.

Once again Paul flew into action.  Moved by my tears, he reassured me:  “Honey, just stay here, I’m going to go up ahead and see if I can get someone to let us move up in line.  Watch for me and if I motion to you, run to join me!”  “Thank you,” I answered, “ this IS our daughter’s wedding and I can’t bear to miss it!”

I chatted with the lady ahead of me who graciously offered to give us her place in line.  Unfortunately that wouldn’t buy us any time.  The tears just kept coming; I kept sniffing and dabbing.  Paul had told me to watch for his wave.  When I saw him waving me up I said goodbye to my short-term friend and thanked her for the offer.  I joined Paul at where would typically be the end of the cordoned lanes.  He introduced me to the couple who were kind enough to let us cut in line in front of them.  They showed genuine dismay when we told them what time our flight left. 

Now the race against the clock began in earnest.  As we slowly moved through the lanes, I was praying hard that we would make our flight.  I tried to keep calm, but the anxiety just mounted each time I glanced up to see the words “Boarding” flashing next to #791.  About halfway through the lanes it occurred to me that as a Christian, I was always to pray about things but I was also to praise God in every situation.  Even the seemingly hopeless ones – maybe especially those.  I was so stressed I could hardly recall my favorite praise songs, so I began softly singing the Doxology – “Praise God From Whom All Blessings Flow.”  At first it was just the discipline, but quickly I began to feel hope rise within me.  It was amazing.  Once I turned from desperate prayers to praising God even though I didn’t really feel the praise in my heart, I started to calm a little.   I moved into “Alleluia”, then “Agnus Dei”.  The line wasn’t moving any faster but I was feeling calmer by the moment.  As I glanced up to see “Final Boarding” next to #791, I started singing “Hear the Call”, humming the parts where I forgot the words but always finishing strong with “Salvation in Jesus’ name!”  I did see a few strange glances come my way as I would turn into the next lane, softly singing my little heart out.  I just smiled and let them think I was crazy.

Finally it was my turn to be called forward to present boarding pass and ID.  Paul had suggested that we take separate security lines when it came time to put our carryons through the conveyor and remove shoes, etc.  We decided that whoever made it through first would grab their things and run to the gate to let the attendant know the other was coming.  I watched as the young man in front of me carefully, slowly, arranged his backpack and laptop on the conveyor belt.  He seemed to want everything straight and perfect.  Then he removed his shoes, placed them neatly in the bin, and seemed to consider whether to remove his sweater.  It was his turn to go through the xray machine, and the TSA agent instructed him to remove his sweater.  Which he did … eventually.  I wanted to yank off his sweater and shove his things ahead on the conveyor but I held onto my calm.  It was the most excruciatingly slow passage of time I think I’ve ever experienced.

My turn in the machine went smoothly, and as I exited I noticed Paul had not yet made it through.  I grabbed my bag, slipped my fingers into my shoes and ran as fast as I could to the gate, hoping I wouldn’t slip in my socked feet and bust it on the slick polished tile.  Breathlessly I handed my boarding pass to the attendant and told him my husband was coming.  Then I turned around to wait.  It seemed to take forever but was probably only a couple of minutes when I saw Paul in the distance, just coming out of the security area.  He had his tennis shoes in his hand, belt hanging around his neck, and his carry on flying behind him as he looked for me.  I waved wildly.  He saw me and headed to our gate. 

I couldn’t stand it, as soon as I knew he was headed to the right gate I went on down the jet way.  At the entrance to the plane I turned to wait for him but didn’t see him.  Seconds passed.  Where was he?  Finally there he was, walking at a normal pace down the jet way.  How could anyone walk at a normal pace at this time??  When he reached me, we said a collective “we made it!” and walked onto the plane.    I found a middle seat close to the front, he found one toward the rear of the plane.  Thank God, we had made the flight.

Our connecting flight was going to be a tight fit.  The departing flight left at least 20 minutes late, and we only had 40 minutes originally between landing and taking off again, but we would be in the same terminal so I felt pretty certain we could make it.  Toward the end of our flight, Paul came up the aisle and asked for the address of the hotel we would be staying at.  I gave it to him, thinking he’d met some nice people on the plane and wanted to connect with them once we arrived.

However, he had another reason for asking.  I got off the plane before he did and waited for him to come off the jet way.  We found the restrooms, and once we reconnected in the terminal he said he had something to tell me.   “I lost my wallet.”   The words hung there in the air between us.  “Your wallet??  That had our only credit cards and all our travel cash!” I exclaimed, panic starting to rise.  “I don’t know how it could have happened,” he said.  “Fortunately I placed my driver’s license in my pocket, so at least I’ll be able to board the flights home.”

I let our situation sink in.  Good news:  Paul still had his driver’s license.  Bad news:  we had no credit cards or the hundreds in cash we’d brought for the trip.  Good news:  I had a debit card and a little over $20 in cash.  Bad news:  I wasn’t sure how much money the account accessed by the debit card had in it.  Good news:  we had enough for lunch.  Ok, one thing at a time.

The flight attendant had given Paul a number to call for TSA lost and found at the airport.  He called, and as soon as he gave his name Melanie, the lady on the other end, said, “We have your wallet.”  His exhaled a huge sigh of relief as he thanked her.  He asked about the credit cards, she said they were there.  He asked about the cash.  “How much did you have?” she asked.  “A little over $500,” he answered.  Melanie didn’t confirm or deny the cash, just said OK and told him to check in at the TSA lost and found when we returned.

Good news:  they had his wallet!  Other news:  we may be out $500 and we wouldn’t know until we returned home. 

We decided we had a few minutes to grab lunch and headed over to the closest counter, where we bought 1 slice of pizza, a plate of chicken and veggies, and a fountain drink for $18.10.  Good news:  I had some change!

We walked over check our gate for the connecting flight.  I couldn’t figure out why they hadn’t started boarding yet but no one was at the gate, so we took a few minutes to breathe and eat a few bites, marveling at the miracle of the found wallet.  All of sudden we heard the loud speaker come on:  “final boarding call for flight #1271”.  Holy cow – that was our flight!!!   I realized we had been so pre-occupied with concern over the wallet and the cash that I had totally lost track of time.  Fortunately we were standing at the proper departing gate, so we quickly packed up our lunch remains and ran over to the attendant.  Once again we were the sole people on the jet way.  Once again we would not be sitting together, but rather each in a middle seat in totally different parts of the plane.  Good news:  we made our connecting flight!!

It took a while for me to calm down.  I could not believe we had almost missed two flights due to my unprepared ness that was SO unlike me.  But everything was ok, we were going to make it to the wedding, and as that finally sank in I sat back in my seat and took out my lunch.

We landed at the airport close to the originally scheduled time.  Our wonderful son-in-law was to pick us up in the rent car, take us into the next city to check in our hotel and get ready for the wedding.  Now I was starting once again to feel like I was on vacation, only with limited resources.  We connected with Craig by cell phone, and before long he drove up to where we were standing in a nice big Crown Victoria or the Crown Vic as we liked to call it.  He was new to the area too but had driven from the airport to the hotel once (albeit at 12:30 a.m. after their own airplane and rental car adventures), so I felt confident we would be at the hotel in plenty of time.  As soon as we were on the highway Paul and I began telling him of our experience that day, reliving the anxiety, drama, and relief that we were finally here.  He told us of their rental car experience and I started to feel like these ‘adventures’ were running in the family!  

After a while I checked my watch and noted that we should be quite close to our destination.  Strangely, we weren’t even on the right highway – how odd.  About that time we each realized that in our talking as we left the airport we also left the correct highway and were now headed in completely the wrong direction.  It was 3 hours until the wedding, and he had to get back to deliver dresses, shoes, etc. to the bride and his wife, the matron of honor.  Good news:  we had a GPS system and 2 smart phones with GPS!

Even after we were re-directed back toward our hotel, Paul and I kept checking our respective phones to double check, make sure, and in general be helpful to Craig with our backseat GPS-ing.  We discussed our various findings, swapped phones to see whose had the more accurate route, and in general acted as though the timely arrival at our destination depending on us.  Craig was very patient with the whole process, but finally at one point said, “Guys, thanks for your help and you can keep checking your GPS but I really do know where we are.”

And he did.  He drove us straight to the hotel and while he unloaded our bags we checked in.  I asked for a room as close to his and Laura’s as possible, knowing that he would be the runner not just between hotel and wedding venue but between our rooms as well.  Inevitably Laura and I would need to share/borrow hairspray, flat iron, powder – and every time Craig was happy to be the go-between.

Paul and I went up to the room, unpacked and for the first time began to breathe in a relaxed manner.  He was anxious about being totally without any cash, so I generously offered him a short-term loan and went downstairs to the ATM.  Delivering the $400 to him in the room, I gently asked him to keep a close eye on it.  He promised he would and that as soon as we landed he’d repay me.  I touched up our wedding clothes with the iron and before long we were ready.  Craig was to be our driver in this too, and having made numerous trips between the two places already that day he was all over it on the short drive over.

The bride was gorgeous, the wedding a beautiful Christian ceremony, venue delightful, and the cake very tasty.  What a blessing to watch Lena say her vows, share in the wedding feast and see my girls looking so beautiful and happy.  The tension of the day had already faded, and what remained was the blessing and gratitude of being able to attend such a very special day.

The time to return home arrived all too quickly.   Once again Craig would be our taxi driver in the Crown Vic, this time accompanied by Laura, and we enjoyed a pleasant visit during our ride to the airport.  We arrived well ahead of departure time, and exchanged lingering hugs at curbside.  As we watched them drive away, we headed into the terminal.  Two and ½ hours until our flight left.  What a nice feeling, having to wait and kill time in the airport!

Our flight home was nonstop but as full as the others had been.  As we lined up to board I asked Paul about seating.  Sometimes we’ll take two aisle seats to we can both have leg room and I suggested we do that for this flight.  “Besides,” I said, “it might allow a couple to sit together who otherwise couldn’t.”  Little did I know how prophetic those words would turn out to be.

During boarding we moved toward the back of the plane and found aisle seats across from each other.  After two harried flights totally separated from my husband I wanted him within arm’s reach!  At the last minute, a nice young couple asked if the seats beside me were taken and I said no.  They smiled and asked to scoot in.  I learned later while getting acquainted with April and Andrew that they had hoped to sit together and had found the last two seats together next to me.  They too had been in Florida for a wedding, and we enjoyed our visit over the next two and ½ hours.

Our plane landed on time and we made a beeline for the nearest TSA agent  to get directions for Lost and Found.  He instructed us and a few minutes later we were standing outside a very non-descript door marked “T315”.   Paul knocked.  Shortly the door opened slightly and a very in-charge woman asked us to identify ourselves.  Paul explained why we were there and she opened the door a bit more.  As he moved into the doorway I followed, but she quickly stopped me with the curt words, “There is only room for one.”  So I took his carryon and shouldered it, and waited for several minutes while my husband was inside the secret room with Madame General.  The door opened and he walked out.  “Wow, that was neat – I could see the room with all the security monitors but she told me I had to move where they were out of sight as I wasn’t allowed to look.”  “What about the wallet??” I asked.  “Oh,” he replied, “it’s fine.  My credit cards were there, all other info intact, and the cash is there to the penny.  Nothing is missing.” 

We could not get over it - it was all there.   Praise God and pass the biscuits!  Oh, and pass the wallet – someone needs to repay me $400.  :)

Saturday Morning

The dripping of the rain onto the porch railing and the copper roof of the birdfeeder.  The quiet stillness, rich in its peace without the Duke moving about on the back porch.  The playfulness of Pete the Cat as he enjoys the back porch, dog-free, and chases bugs, geckos, or nothing at all.  He pretends he’s smelling the flowers in my hanging basket but I know he’s scouting for my birds, and I will not allow him to get one.  He gives me the longing look with those green eyes, and I stare him down.  I love Pete, and I know he’s just acting on instinct, but I so enjoy the variety of birds we have in our back yard that I won’t give Pete the chance to act on that instinct.  The birds aren’t quite as confident about that.

It’s one of the rare Saturday Mornings when I have no obligations that day, I can sleep until I wake naturally (goodness, I must have needed that 12 hours!!), and I can pray, write and read to my heart’s content.  Time will pass and I won’t even notice, so unusual for a person driven by the clock, by its every 5 minute increment on other days of the week.  My walk this morning was delightful – once I turned off our busy street, I found the same quiet stillness, the rich green of hopeful nature after a long rain and thunderstorm last night.  After last year’s drought, and the fires, we welcome every single drop, no matter how or when it comes. 

Once again I acknowledge the power of God Almighty, giver of every breath and producer of rain, wind, temperatures cold or hot, and all the scents that come with the elements of the weather.  It is amazing when I read in the Old Testament and find so much Truth about nature.  Long before our modern day scientists and technology, the Bible was declaring that the earth was round, that air has weight (which Galileo later proved), oceans and wind have currents (Matthew Maury’s studies revealed that), light travels, and planet Earth hangs in the universe supported by nothing – except the setup of that universe which God designed.  I marvel about the current archaeology discoveries which have confirmed events described in the Bible, many of which were thought impossible or just stories of the human mind.  Like the walls of Jericho which fell down flat on top of themselves, unlike other ancient cities’ ruins, or the existence of a people called the Hittites, talked about only in the Bible.  Even the creation of man out of dust is validated in this Book.  The 16 elements that make up the human body also make up the earth’s crust.  Time after time the Bible is proven to be true scientifically; even without faith, we don’t need to look to theories for how man and nature came to be.  The Truth is already recorded for us, put down thousands of years ago.  All we have to do is expose ourselves to it and believe.

The air is cool this morning; I am glad for the warmth of my sweats.  How shall I spend the rest of this day, this precious gift of time?  I am in regular touch with my children and grandchildren so I feel satisfied there.  My book is in the evaluation stage, both with the judges of the writing contest and with my newly found editor who just received the manuscript yesterday, so nothing to do there at the moment (finally!)  I have some transcription to do for my citizen journalist peers and for a friend at church, but that won’t take long.  I will spend a good chunk of this time in the best way I know – in communion with my Maker with prayer, reading His Word, writing in my prayer and praise journal, and listening for Him to speak.  For when His children come to Him He does speak.  Whether by His word, jumping off the page to touch some life circumstance, or by the word of a friend, or into my spirit where it lodges until I think it through or act upon it.  A mystery, but a grand one. 

Thank you, Father, for this gift of today.  Help me to spend it wisely.

Black Sheep Nativity

Lily, our almost 3 yr old granddaughter, likes to put on a show for her family from time to time.  So far it’s always been the same show, the biblical account of an angel visiting Mary to tell her she was going to give birth to God’s son, Joseph’s taking her to Bethlehem and the account of Jesus’ birth.  Her parents had informed us that if she said “put on a show” this is what she meant, rather than something to watch on TV.

We kept Lily this weekend and she did indeed want to put on her show for us.  We determined that performance time would be right before bedtime.  Grandpa was to be the narrator and I would help with props and sound.  As Director and Main Star, Lily took her roles very seriously.  She directed me to go upstairs and get the wooden cradle, baby, and a blanket for her costume.   When I came downstairs to put the cradle in place, she had just arranged a couch cushion on the floor which would be Mary’s bed and later also serve as donkey and manger.   She came over to have me arrange her robe and when she was satisfied walked over to the cushion and lay down.

Grandpa began, “Mary was sleeping.”   Mary shut her eyes tightly.  “An Angel visited Mary and told her that she was highly favored of God and had been chosen to give birth to God’s Son, that his name would be called Jesus.”  There was no movement, so Grandpa looked at me, and then said, “Mary woke up.”  Instantly Mary was awake and sitting up.  Grandpa continued, “Mary went to tell Joseph what had happened.”  Lily walked over to Grandpa and said, “You be Joseph.”  Joseph announced that he too had been visited by an angel, that he and Mary would be married, and that they were going to Bethlehem for the census.   End of Act I.

Act II began with Mary astride the donkey and the Narrator instructing her to ride more animatedly, which she did.  “Joseph and Mary made their way to Bethlehem, where they went to the inn to ask for a place to stay.”  Grandpa stage whispered to Lily, “the inn is over by the window”.  Mary moved to the window and Grandpa became the Innkeeper.  “I am so sorry but there is no room at the inn.  The best I can do is my stable, and you can have the cow’s hay for bedding.”   Mary walked back to the cushion, now a stable, and prepared a place to stay. 

Grandpa continued.  “Mary and Joseph went to the stable with all the animals.  And the baby was born and they named him Jesus as the angel had said.”  Mary went over to the cradle and picked up her baby doll.   “Mary was a very good mother, and she wrapped her baby in blankets carefully.”  Apparently this information was to be part of the show.   “That was the night a special star came out in the sky.”  Another stage whisper instructing her to look up at the ceiling fan light, and she dutifully gazed up at the “star”. 

“Over in the fields there were shepherds watching their sheep.”  Mary was informed that the fields were over by the door.  Then Grandpa had his brainstorm:  “Duke is out there with the shepherds.  Lily, wouldn’t Duke be a great sheep?”   Before the props manager could utter a sound, she let Duke in and after he sniffed around a little he actually lay down in the vicinity of the stable.    “And angels appeared to the shepherds telling of the good news, that this night a Savior was born.  The shepherds said let us follow the star and go see this thing that has happened.” 

And there was the little manger scene, complete with Mary in a long robe tending to her baby, a star shining overhead, and a 90 lb black “sheep” laying still by her side, looking perfectly composed, almost as if he knew exactly what he was doing.  Our very own Black Sheep Nativity.