Nellie

God is at it again!

I met Nellie today. Nellie and her husband operate a ministry to homeless people, mostly men, perhaps exclusively men... I know few details except that these dear hearts are not part of a larger movement or connected to the welfare system. They have incorporated as a ministry and do the fundraising and mercy delivery pretty much all on their own. They live in a modest house with 12 or so homeless people they care for, some with special needs. In addition, they feed about 100 homeless down by the lake every Sunday.

A while back I had offered to help Donna, our church Missionary coordinator, by providing paper goods to Nellie, but as happens with me, I forgot all about it. Then yesterday after cleaning at the church, I felt I had forgotten something and asked the Lord to show me what I had missed. Suddenly, the paper goods came to my mind and I was off to Sam's Club to get them.

I got Nellie's address from Donna this morning and after church drove over to make the delivery. Her smiling clients unloaded the carload of cups, plates, etc. while Nellie and I got acquainted. "You came just in time, She told me, "Only yesterday afternoon I was praying because I was running out of paper goods and hated to call Donna again."

I told her about my prayer of yesterday afternoon and we both marveled at God's amazing goodness. I just love it how He works! She prayed, I prayed, He answered at just the right time.

I had some meat for Nellie's bunch, too, and Richard and I dropped it off this afternoon on our way to Bible Study. I was glad Richard got to meet Nellie. She's quite an inspiration. She demonstrates so well the heart of Christ. She may not be able to make a difference in the "homeless problem," but she makes a world of difference for the 24 people who live in the two homes she opens for the neediest of the needy.

Truly Miraculous B

B is for Book Entry. I have been putting first draft snippets of my book at the end of some blogs. It seems a simple way for me to save them and to share them. Prior to publication, I will, of course, compile, edit and refine them as well as add conjoining material as needed. To make "Book" entries more easy to find, I will be adding a B to the title of any post to which one is added.

Now back to today. It was a glorious Saturday, and I reveled in it as I drove to Kissimmee. The sun was brilliant, the temperature just right, and I was pain free, breathing on my own, driving a reliable car.... all of which were special blessings many folks do not enjoy. I am so thankful to live the life I live. I can't say how often I stop and stand just amazed at how well my Heavenly Father takes care of me! Truly Miraculous!

I spent the morning cleaning at the church with two precious people who always inspire me, then I went to Sam's Club to get paper plates, etc. for a homeless shelter. I came home, played with the dog, finished reading "The Red Badge of Courage," and visited with my honey when he got home from work. I had a blast all day!

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Truly Miraculous!

Growing up, I thought of my mother as boring and could not imagine her having a single adventure in her entire life. She said she had sown some wild oats in college, learning to jitterbug, driving a car one time and even smoking a cigarette. I remained unimpressed. Mama just didn't tell any tales of "derring-do."

But I was vastly mistaken and did not perceive my error until Mama was in her eighties. When at last I realized the magnitude of her lunge toward a wild and unpredictable life which was made all in one day, I saw her in a glaringly new light, apprehending all the more the awesome miracle of my own conception.

Having left the T.B. sanitarium to be sheltered and fiercely protected by her step-mother, Iona, Mama grew more reclusive by the year. She had always preferred the safety of home, shunning most social interaction, fearing the erratic moods and judgments of others, especially men.

Long abandoned, if it had ever budded and blossomed at all, was any hope of romance, marriage and a family of her own, although she loved children, or so she thought. In truth, while babies were not threatening, children were somewhat intimidating, and the thought of dealing with a husband who would be expecting so much more than she could possibly provide... Well, her life was best left as it was, and after all, she was well past thirty and in frail condition at that.

Iona ran a boarding house in Custer, S.D., and one of the boarders subscribed to the Denver Post. On a sultry Sunday evening in August as Thelma browsed through the want ads looking for nothing in particular, she was bemused by an ad from a Denver man seeking to correspond with a "refined young woman." The ad bore his address and Mama, on a whim, made note of it. She didn't honestly think she would actually write this man, but in the end, that is precisely what she did. As she wrote, she told herself, she would never really post the letter - four pages of it - and was filled with excitation when she finally slipped the envelope in the box along with the outgoing mail of the boarders.

Soon, they had exchanged photographs, although hers was not a recent one, and she was writing Edgar Hamlet Snider almost daily and was receiving as many missives in return. Over the next three months, they opened up to one another, the distance lending an air of safety to their disclosures. She told him of her illness, of the fears held over from childhood, of feeling helpless as she heard her father beat her brother, and he shared his regret over his brief marriage to a firey waitress with whom he fought continually. They told one another things they could tell no other, secrets of heart and mind known only by God Himself.

At length, they pledged their love and he proposed, sending a railway ticket and money for the trip, not waiting for her assent. She replied that she would come to Denver but had to discuss marriage in person.

Riding the crest of a wave of elation, Thelma packed and prepared for the trip. She blocked all thoughts of Iona's reaction and was thankful her father was not then in the area, but as soon as all was in readiness, she boldly made her announcement. She must do it quickly or her nerve would surely fail. In a rush, she burst into the dining room as the boarders were being seated for supper and Iona was laying foods on the table before them.

"I'm going to Denver on a little holiday," she blurted, her voice quavering and shrill, "to see my friend I've been writing." She had never divulged that her pen pal was a man, but clearly had not committed the sin of claiming she wrote to a woman although she well knew that's what everyone believed.

Iona was in a dither. She finished setting the food about for her tenants before putting forth her arguments against this rash and potentially dangerous excursion. Both women were stunned by Thelma's resolve, yet each privately took a degree of pride in it. Thelma was discovering things about herself she would not have known. Iona considered this newfound strength with hope for more. Letting go was hard, but it was only for a visit.

Thelma had no problem spotting Edgar as he met her train. He was a deeply tanned, dashing man almost a head taller than most of the crowd and crowned with a shock of thick black hair which grew in a large V forming a wide Widow's Peak. He did not reach to touch her, but beamed his approval as they made awkward attempts at conversation. By the time they were out on the street, they had become more comfortable and found life and each other incredibly amusing. They were laughing and, before she even realized it, holding hands.

They walked a while and Thelma began to be chilled and tired. It was a cold December day, and she was not accustomed to so much activity. She was mystified at how openly she could talk with Edgar, even letting him know she needed to sit a while. A movie theater was nearby, so they bought matinee tickets and went in to rest and warm themselves. He placed his arm protectively around her shoulders and she didn't let herself stiffen at his touch. She sat silently marveling that she was alone with a man who might be her life's companion. Nothing could have been more unlikely, only last spring.

Soon, Edgar inclined his head until she could feel him lightly against her hair. Worry began to gnaw at the edges of her euphoria and she quickly and deliberately fought it back. She would need to repel nagging doubts more than once this fateful day, but she was resolute and bound to maintain a tenacious grip on what she felt was her first and last chance at "real" life, "true" love. She turned and looked into his leathered face, smiling. Then without warning, but ever so tenderly, he held her by the chin and kissed her full on the lips. At 33, she felt like a blushing schoolgirl.

The skies had grown darker and a light snow was falling as they left the theater. Amid gusty flurries, he walked her to a nearby park and sat her on a snowy bench whereupon he knelt on one knee and quite formally asked her to marry him. She had already decided and gushed "Oh, yes, oh, yes!" She was thrilled with his sense of romance although he appeared to be a rugged man not accustomed to the more refined side of society. They were oblivious to the weather as they celebrated their mutual commitment with a second kiss followed by unrestrained laughter. She had not laughed so much in her entire life as she did this wonderful, fairy tale day.

Next Edgar hurried her to a car parked within sight of their bench and drove her to the courthouse. He had obviously plotted to take her to the park and left his car in readiness for the next step of his plan.

"You mean we're getting married today?" Thelma said in utter astonishment.

"Why not?" Edgar grinned, "Are you thinking you don't want to?"

He had declared his love for her and she him, so awe struck and swept along by the joy of it all, she threw herself into the magic of the moment and spontaneously reached up to hug him.

That afternoon in the Denver courthouse, Mama did the most uncharacteristic thing of her life; she said, "I do," to a man she barely knew... and it began the most incredible journey imaginable, especially for a recluse! Truly miraculous!

But she never looked back. She was wholly committed to Daddy for the rest of her life. She had doubts about many things and worry was her continual companion, but she never doubted nor regretted her wedding vows.

The Good Life

It was a wonderful Friday. I had finished all my cleaning and laundry yesterday, so I could concentrate on our finances today. Happily, with all the bills paid and transactions recorded before noon, I had time to curl up on the couch and read much of the afternoon. It was particularly quiet and peaceful in my world today, both externally and internally.

I visited with sons David and Norman, both at the same time, thanks to Norman. Isn't technology grand? They are both more technosavvy than I and like to gently tease me about the fact that I still have trouble with text messaging. Frankly, I see no point in "texting." Talking is so much easier and a whole lot more fun.

When he arrived home, Richard told me he needed a covered dish for a co-worker's retirement celebration tomorrow. That's always news I like to hear. I had a great time making up a new macaroni salad. I used macaroni (of course), hard boiled eggs, bacon, asparagus, tomatoes, artichoke hearts, capers, parsley, chives, Caesar dressing, pecorino romano and cheddar cheeses, and mayonnaise along with seasonings to taste. It is awesome! I love it and hope I can make it again.

God was doing His cool stuff today again, too. One thing was He put it in my head to go over to the church tomorrow morning to see if they needed any help. I didn't work last week because I was sick. Then this evening Kathy called to see if I "had plans" for tomorrow morning because one of the cleaners needed to be elsewhere. How cool is that? God had already arranged for me to be there. I love it when He does those things. Sometimes I don't notice though, because I'm not in a God frame of mind. I just really need to remember, there are truly no coincidences.

Yesterday, I was full of energy and finished the housework that had gone begging while I was feeling poorly last week. I actually did all that and the laundry in time to leave a bit early for Giveback. I needed the extra few minutes to pick up Erica on the way. Erica is from England and I love her accent as well as her perky personality. 

Dr. Schutz gave us quite a workout in a new exercise to help with contextual perceptions. Like most brain injured folks, social situations can be problematic for me because I miss so many social cues... and for other reasons, too. Being so hard of hearing is a huge issue for me as well. 

Wednesday, I went to Bible Study at the Vine. I always enjoy Mike's teaching and preaching and am glad that the entire group opted to continue this Bible Study. It's different from the facilitated Small Groups we have been having in that it is more"teacher" based - more what I am used to. I like both formats, though. Mike will need to be gone some Wednesdays and I will be the "sub." I was honored and will enjoy staying prepared. 

We spent Wednesday evening with church friends. We almost always see them in a group setting, so it was good to get to them more intimately. They are an amazing young couple with wisdom beyond their years and parenting outlooks much like our own.

Day after day, my life is good - full, rich and blessed. I am both humbled and filled with joy by this.

The Raiders & Morocco

Richard needed to go to Disney today to finalize his off time for our upcoming family reunion trip in June. Of course, he really didn't stand a chance since that is smack dab in the midst of Disney's busy time and Richard has less than two years seniority. We had prayed and both of us believed enough to actually plan our trip.

I waited in the pickup while Richard went in to talk with management about time off. The best we could hope for was to have the time granted, certainly, we hadn't even thought of getting more than a day or two of paid vacation or Floating Holiday time. Well, as you might guess, our God is so much bigger than we expect and He just loves to give His children good gifts. Richard will be off from June 9 through June 25 with every day paid! Scripture says, "You have not because you ask not." (James 4:2) But God smiled tolerantly and took joy in providing more than we asked. Not because we are deserving or have been better than we asked for, but because in Christ, we are highly favored... Pure GRACE!

Athena will travel with us in June and she says getting time off is no problem for her. She has much seniority at UCF and they love her work and her person... Plus, of course, we've been praying!

So, after we praised God for His loving gifts to us, we headed over to Epcot where the International Flower & Garden show is in full swing. We toured the amazing displays scattered throughout the park and tantalized our taste buds with Moroccan cuisine. I chose to bypass an entree and instead tried a trio of appetizers and a dessert featuring three delectable pastries. 

Ethnic music and authentic decor set the mood and a crimson clad belly dancer amazed us with the moves her super flexible torso was capable of. All the while Richard relished his beef but turned up his nose at the couscous and veggies rounding out his meal. I, loved everything I was served and ate his veggies as well. The couscous and some bread came home with us and I will make short work of them tomorrow.  

It is a special time at Disney with the festival going on and it's also Spring Break, so the park was packed. Disney expects this and has designated this time "Blackout Days," meaning cast members may not bring unpaid guests to the park. Because of this, we didn't expect to get into Paul Revere & the Raiders show which was slated to begin just about the time we finished our meal, but again, we were highly favored and walked right in finding seats only about six rows from the stage!

The show rocked! What a treat to see one of my favorite bands - free! As I looked around the crowd, I was also surprised that nearly every seat was taken as the show got underway. Again, I was shocked we had been able to walk right in to great seats five minutes before show time.

We were well fed and well entertained, and I only wanted to do one other thing before heading for the house, see the new O Canada circle-vision movie. We both frankly didn't think we'd get in without a long wait, but it was on our way out of the park, so we gave it a shot. 

Again, we arrived just before the show was to begin, and again, we walked right in! The movie was good. Not fantastic, but quite well done. But the biggest treat of all was feeling like God had just given us one more special treat. It was like receiving a warm hug and gentle kiss from our Heavenly Father. He makes me feel so loved!

I will add more to my book later, tonight I am just basking in Abba's love.

Keeping Track of Time

I was well enough for church Sunday and what a wondrous time it was! There was an early service for everyone who performed any service or work, then the regular service. The place was packed and Mike preached one of the best and most unusual sermons I've ever heard. Afterward, there was a church family party, complete with Easter egg hunt and huge Easter dinner (ham, chicken, rice, veggies, salad, side dishes, desserts and more)... wow! I enjoyed another ham dinner with Richard after he got home from work, then we shared a quiet evening together.

Today was the last day of the women's Bible Study I go to at First Baptist and we went out to the Olive garden after the lesson. We'll start a new study April 14. I still am a bit run down so spent the rest of the day just relaxing with Richard. It was his day off. So how boring is all this? But it helps me keep track of time.

Now an entry for my book

KEEPING TRACK OF TIME

My life began in Denver, but I don't imagine either of my parents knew just when this miracle occurred. And miracle it was. Oh yes, every conception is a miracle and each birth an even greater one, but in this case there was so much more to marvel at...

Come with me as I slip from my mother's womb and travel back in time to 1906 and watch her as a frightened two-year old somewhere in Illinois listening to the pain wrenched cries of her raven haired mother in the another room. Strangers were in the house and her father, always tall and aloof, acted like a stranger, too. No one seemed to notice Thelma Marie huddled on a sofa in the ornate parlor.

At some point, her mother grew silent and there was the shrill squeal of a newborn. Thelma had a baby brother, Christof Carl Arndt. In a flurry, someone brought him out of the bedroom and fussed over him, still paying her no mind. Timidly, she crept into the kitchen to see the baby. Her father had gone into the bedroom, but not long after, he and everyone else left that room and the door was shut. Thelma never again saw her mother alive. She would later learn more than she wanted to know about pre-eclampsia (toxemia) and eclampsia, including the hereditary links.

Richard Jacob Arndt, a German immigrant, was not a good single parent and he knew it. He was bitter and heartbroken over the loss of his beloved Mary Elizabeth, and life without her became grim to the point of unbearable. His children were mostly a burden he left on the shoulders of hired caregivers. Indeed, every time he looked at Chris, anger welled from deep inside. This child had cost him the love of his life.  

Thelma was a quiet child, well provided for and not mistreated, yet she seldom smiled and was keenly aware of her father's unresolved anger. Chris was often beaten and there seemed no way to avoid it. Thelma wanted to protect him, but how? And who knew if she might not be next? Her only recourse was to shelter and nurture him all she could, but there was always the worry, always the stress, and in the end, there was simply no way for her to control or mitigate the situation.

Finally, in 1910, when Thelma was six, her father remarried. Her new mother was named Iona and brought with her a son named John. Suddenly, everything changed. Her father actually smiled now and then and, for a time, seemed to be less harsh with Chris. She hoped it would last, but she still worried it might not.

Iona was a strong woman and it wasn't long until she had several business ventures going in addition to managing the household. Three years later, she bore a son, Donald Anderson Arndt, who was the apple of Thelma's eye and the darling of the family. Richard never struck any of his other children but continued to whip Chris until the boy ran off as a teen and became a merchant marine. Even so, Thelma always worried about who might be her father's next scapegoat.

Thelma idolized her step-mother who lavished her with the acceptance and affection she had never received from her father. Iona encouraged Thelma to be more outgoing, but the girl preferred her books and solitude more than venturing out with friends or into activities.  

The family lived in Illinois, Nebraska and South Dakota. John Naugle followed his mother's footsteps and became a businessman, Donald graduated from Colorado's School of Mines as an engineer, then became a pharmacist, and finally went on to medical school and practiced all his life in Berthoud, Colorado. 

After high school, Thelma's story acquires a hint of mystery. She always told us she went to college in Chadron, Nebraska until she was 19 when she contracted tuberculosis and was in a T.B. sanitarium for five years before going to live with her folks in Custer, SD, until 1937 when she married. But she also told of teaching in a one-room school and boarding with certain families, which just didn't all fit in the time frame.

Follow along with me now, as keeping track of time becomes even more difficult. I visited Chadron State College and obtained a copy of my mother's transcript. "You won't have to pay a fee," said the registrar who had gone to the basement dig up the record, "because every student gets one official transcript free of charge, and she never got hers." Mama had never ordered a copy of her school transcript even though she was so proud of having a "college education."

The transcript was all hand written. Mama did well in English Lit. and was a D student in Chemistry and P.E. She had two years worth of credit but was, not surprisingly, in no extracurricular activities. But the shocking aspect of this document was the date. There were some unaccounted for years between high school and college, so that she is not having T.B. at 19, but withdraws from school, ill, at 24. Keeping track of time, we find then that Mama must have left the sanatarium in 1933 at age 29.

Does it matter? Only in that it is so unlike my mother to have any sort of mystery about her life, and of course, as my own daughter said of it, if there is missing time in your mother's life, you may have a sibling you haven't met. That would also be SO out of character for both my mother and her mother, Iona, both of whom I feel would have kept the baby. So much for keeping track of time.

Mama was hidden away from the world and it's bacteria for five lonely years, but she enjoyed them. The safety and sameness of the days was comforting. Her college and teaching time boarding with families had been a lot like living with her father, fraught with worry that she might displease.  The people she lived with were sometimes harsh. Although her family wasn't poor, she was expected to pay her way so earned board and room by keeping house and caring for the children where she stayed. The sanatarium had no expectations and no unpleasant outbursts.

In spite of her sheltered care, healthy diet and carefully timed sessions in the sun room, Mama dwindled to 89 pounds, her condition grew worse and she wasn't expected to live. Finally, Iona would have no more of it and brought Mama home, supposedly to die, but everyone one who knew Iona knew she didn't believe that. These two women, one bold, strong, determined; one timid, shy and dying, both had a strong faith in God. They prayed, one believing, the other no longer caring, but trying to please her adored mother... and God honored those prayers.

Mama never should have lived to conceive me, but God stepped in. Somewhere along the line, maybe even during those "lost" years, or perhaps when she was so ill, some doctor told Mama she could never have a child, or that to have one would kill her, I'm not just sure any more. The pregnancy was miraculous for another reason as well.

SUNDAY'S ON THE WAY!!!!

http://ionanet.com/press/cards/helives.htm

I called in sick this morning and prayed the Lord would energize His other workers to make up for my absence. I am still praying to be there for tomorrows service.

I did finish up my Easter page just now and hope you are blessed by my brief message there and all the super cool links. Just click the banner above or the tiny print above that.

Have a cool Saturday and always remember, SUNDAY'S ON THE WAY!!!!

Good Friday

I won't be in church this evening. I am still sick and even so might have gone anyway except that I feel that exposing others to an illness is wrong. My infant baby sister died after being exposed to an ill neighbor. Any time I'm tempted to mix and mingle, especially where there are children, the elderly or other vulnerable folks around, I see Virginia Rose laid out in her tiny casket. That black and white image is the only picture my parents had of her.

So, I'll be home tonight, coughing and sniffling and wheezing along... and praying I am better by Sunday morning. These three days, Friday - Sunday are commemorative of the most important time in the history of mankind. Jesus' death, burial and resurrection bear eternal consequences for all creation - the entire universe! Celebrating that with other believers is very important to me, and I pray I can at least do that Sunday. I'm drinking lots of fluids, resting and trusting God for healing.

I did do two loads of laundry today. Big whoop. Also fixed a simple dinner, baked tilapia (so good!) and a boxed creamy shell mix with canned peas. Now, I'm tired and full and the earache is leaning me toward a pain pill, so will hope to be more verbose tomorrow.

Fender Skirts

I've been in Destin, Florida with Kim and Peyton. Had a great time! Came home happy but getting sick. Still feeling ugh so I'll post this bit of humor I found a smile in:

I came across this phrase in a book yesterday "FENDER SKIRTS". A term I haven't heard in a long time and thinking about "fender skirts" started me thinking about other words that quietly disappear from our language with hardly a notice.

Like "curb feelers" and "steering knobs." Since I'd been thinking of cars, my mind naturally went that direction first. Any kids will probably have to find some elderly person over 50 to explain some of these terms to you.

Remember "Continental kits?" They were rear bumper extenders and spare tire covers that were supposed to make any car as cool as a Lincoln Conti nental.

When did we quit calling them "emergency brakes?" At some point "parking brake" became the proper term. But I miss the hint of drama that went with "emergency brake."

I'm sad, too, that almost all the old folks are gone who would call the accelerator the "foot feed"

Didn't you ever wait at the street for your daddy to come home, so you could ride the "running board" up to the house?

Here's a phrase I heard all the time in my youth but never anymore - "store-bought." Of course, just about everything i s store-bought these days. But once it was bragging material to have a store-bought dress or a store-bought bag of candy

"Coast to coast" is a phrase that once held all sorts of excitement and now means almost nothing. Now we take the term "world wide" for granted. This floors me.

On a smaller scale, "wall-to-wall" was once a magical term in our homes. In the '50s, everyone covered his or her hardwood floors with, wow, wall-to-wall carpeting! Today, everyone replaces their wall-to-wall carpeting with hardwood floors. Go figure.

When's the last time you heard the quaint phrase "in a family way?" It's hard to imagine that the word "pregnant" was once considered a little too graphic, a little too clinical for use in polite company. So we had all that talk about stork visits and "being in a family way" or simply"expecting."

Apparently "brassiere" is a word no longer in usage. I said it the other day and my daughter cracked up. I guess it's just "bra" now "Unmentionables" probably wouldn't be understood at all.

I always loved going to the "picture show," but I considered "movie" an affectation.

Most of these words go back to the '50s, but here's a pure-'60s word I came across the other day - "rat fink." Ooh, what a nasty put-down!

Here's a word I miss - "percolator." That was just a fun word to say. And what was it replaced with? "Coffee maker." How dull. Mr. Coffee, I blame you for this.

I miss those made-up marketing words that were meant to sound so modern and now sound so retro. Words like "DynaFlow" and "Electrolux" Introducing the 1963 Admiral TV, now with "SpectraVision!"

Food for thought - Was there a telethon that wiped out lumbago? Nobody complains of that anymore. Maybe that's what castor oil cured, because I never hear mothers threatening kids with castor oil anymore!

Some words aren't gone, but are definitely on the endangered list. The one that grieves me most "supper." Now everybody says "dinner." Save a great word. Invite someone to supper. Discuss fender skirts.

Not Tonight

A wonderfully busy day and everything is done. I am even all packed and ready to leave for my week on the gulf coast with sweet little Peyton marie and her fantastically talented and beautiful mom, Lt. Colonel Kim. I meet their airplane tomorrow afternoon almost 400 miles from here, so I'll need an early start. Good thing I'm so tired or I wouldn't sleep a wink. But sleep is where I'm headed. No book entry tonight... and maybe not tomorrow. Maybe not even a blog tomorrow.

Impossible Dreaming

Bruce brought the food and I took the drinks to the Giveback meeting last night and as hoped, the refreshments lured folks to hang around after the meeting and do a bit of bonding. They were still digging the dialog ninety minutes after the confab ended. So, from now on, the first Thursday of each month after our "Community Meeting" when survivors, family members, students, professionals and Dr. Schutz address particular topics, we'll nosh and network.

Today, I'm proud to say, I tackled a tax problem for an old client, a creditor problem for a family member and banking issue for a dear friend. I even set up a credit repair plan for someone. I made the needed calls, stayed focused, wrote the required letters, stayed focused and balanced the balances, still staying focused. It was an all day job and I took breaks between each task, but I am satisfied to have met my fiduciary responsibility to each person, pleased to have made a difference and done something for them they had been unable to manage by themselves. Being useful is such a boost!

Tomorrow after cleaning the church, I will pack and prepare for my trip to Destin on the Florida panhandle where I will play with my new granddaughter, visit with my daughter and become decadently slothful lolling around in a luxury hotel. Works for me!

But now I shall begin to keep my promise about THE BOOK. Unlike real authors with undamaged brains, I have no outline, no idea what to include or exclude and won't be able to write sequentially. I intend to work on my life's adventure story as the mood and memories hit. We'll discover it as we go, then I'll edit and put the completed pieces together chronologically.

IMPOSSIBLE DREAMING

It was just past seven on a foggy California morning and I, along with three other Juniors, was relegated to the school library as punishment. We would spend an hour before and after school in the library, in my case, for a week. I considered myself a political prisoner. At John Swett Union High School, girls were to be properly dressed in dresses or skirts, never clothed in pants of any kind. Ever. Sick to death of the restrictions society - and especially my father - placed on females, I was determined to bring about change.

Too modest to go the Godiva route, I had recruited almost thirty girls who agreed to wear slacks or jeans to school and carry protest signs all around the school grounds beginning that Monday. Only seven of us actually showed up, and six were easily dissuaded by a few words of warning from Mrs. Keyes, the girls dean who, along with a large crowd of staff and students, had learned of our planned demonstration via rumors which we, ourselves had spread. A protest demonstration without an audience would of course be pointless.

I began my speech as my spineless friends slunk off to change into "decent attire." Although my tummy quivered and a cold sweat formed on my brow, I stood my ground even after our no nonsense principal Mr. Wilson pried the sign from my trembling fingers and gave me "one last chance" to become the demure young lady he thought I should be. I was a great disappointment to him and he had no choice but to suspend me on the spot. Later, he relented and exiled me to the library gig.

Jealously, I gazed at the boys lounging in the shadowed west corner of the library. No one told them how to dress. All three wore their blue jeans low on their hips with the waist bands rolled over so the belt loops didn't show. Narrow cuffs turned up all six pantlegs to a height just above the shoe revealing white socks. One of the Buscalia boys had on a snug white tee shirt with the sleeves rolled high and tight. His cousin wore a starched plaid shirt with a similar sleeve treatment. Outside the school grounds, he kept a pack of unfiltered Camels rolled securely against his left arm almost at shoulder height.

In my blue and green plaid pleated skirt, short sleeved blue sweater bloused at the waist and a green neck scarf tied with poofy short tails, I fit right in with the other girls, and I hated it. The boys ignored me even though I deliberately chose a path to a table nearby. I was embarrassed and angry. I wanted the freedom they so easily walked in. I wanted to be regarded as their equal. I needed to do something to prove myself worthwhile, as strong, independent and daring as they thought they were.

That's when I met Gertrude Caroline Ederle who became my role model. I found her in a magazine left open on the library table where I sat sulking. She was short, well muscled, even a bit stocky. I admired her countenance, with a slight smile but a firm jaw and a look of sheer determination. She was pictured in a plain, one piece swim suit, but I was convinced she wore pants any time and anywhere she wanted. The picture wasn't current. Gertrude, born in 1906, was now fifty years old, an old, old woman. Nonetheless, excitement replaced my shame as I hungrily read her story.

Gertrude was a swimmer, had been to the Olympics and had won many competitions, but what really caught my imagination was her quest to swim the English Channel. She was disqualified on her first attempt but in August of 1926 was the first woman to conquer the Channel just a few months shy of her 20th birthday. Eventually, she swam it in both directions.

I was enthralled! Over the next few weeks I researched and learned all I could about the Channel called the "Mount Everest of marathon swimming," and the swimmer who had quickly become my heroine. I learned that Gertrude used a swimming stroke called the front crawl and I searched for information on how to do that. Since I was not at all a swimmer yet, I had no idea of the amplitude of this learning curve. You cannot adequately learn to swim from a book.

Over the next two years I swam in the bay from the shoreline near Joseph's Marina which then included a cafe, bar, boat and swimming docks, bait shop and resident "experts" on swimming, boating, fishing and everything nautical. Soon everyone at the marina knew of my Impossible Dream of swimming the English Channel, a treacherous twenty one mile, heavily traveled sea-lane prone to raging winds, cross currents, frigid waters, powerful tides and Portuguese man-of-war jellyfish. Most scoffed, some good-naturedly, others with mean spirited scorn, but a few took me under their wings and even chaperoned me in their small boats as I took longer and longer swims.

The marina was within walking distance of the low-income project in Rodeo where our family lived and I swam afternoons and weekends, then after my parents were asleep, I crept out of my bedroom window and down to the marina to swim at night, usually with someone, but occasionally alone. I had no idea how to train and never figured out what a front crawl was, but training became my passion, and although I continued to push for female rights by unsuccessfully signing up for auto shop and dropping out of home economics, swimming kept my political activities in check to the point I was able to complete high school without being permanently expelled.

At last, as my high school graduation loomed just weeks away, I began to face the sad truth that I had no sponsor or any idea how to attract one. I also had to admit I lacked the endurance for the Channel. I could go the distance in the bay. Greased down and kept hydrated and fed by my volunteer trainers in their little boats, I had made swims of twenty three miles on several occasions, but not in the hostile conditions I would find in the Channel.

It was the day before graduation practice that I walked to the marina for my last "Impossible Dream" swim. No grease, no guardian in a boat, not even a swim cap, just me and the bay. I stayed in the water three hours talking to myself and the Lord, bidding the Impossible Dream farewell. It had served its purpose. Now, there were other dreams on the horizon, other adventures to experience. I asked God to fill my life to the full even if it hurt at times. The salt of my tears flowed and mingled with the semi-saltiness of the bay streaming down my face as I left training in those murky waters for the last time. Yes, I would swim again at the marina. Like ordinary recreation bathers, I would play in the water with friends, but never again would I truly be a "swimmer."

The BOOK Cometh

What a standout Wednesday! Usually I am a bit worried on Wednesday. I am never worried about going to the eleven AM study at the church although I've been praying for the Lord to show me what He wants me to say rather than let my mouth run away with me as I so often happens. My concern normally is focused on the evening Small Group... saying what is profitable rather than something that might hinder another, as I feel I did the first night. Indeed, although I don't worry much about money or provision, I do concern myself over fulfilling God's plan for my life, giving Him my best and loving those He loves. Whew! That "love your enemies" bit? That's is a toughie!

I am also pressed by the fact that several times, and in variant ways, God has called me to write a book. The story of my life is a story of God and He is incredible, it's also a story of brain injury told with candor. If I write this story, satan will be riled, family members (some, not all) will be disturbed, friends might be nervous... I've made some starts and soon dropped it.

After our evening Small Group meeting at the Cooks, God led to to deep thought about "THE BOOK." No more excuses, It is a beginning. Anthony, Sarah, Brandy and Richard have unknowingly pushed me into God's lap from which I derive the courage to type that first faltering feature, The Foreword...

FOREWORD
(Not FORWARD, as I once thought. Logical, but quite gauche in literary circles, I'm told.)

My life is full and rich and so very blessed! There's not much I would change. I would add my family to my neighborhood if my dream to do so was possible and didn't interfere with their own dreams and drives, but even though most of my beloved progeny are miles away, I am blessed to share a home with an adoring man who is consistently my biggest fan - as I am his; to share the area with my brilliant and delightfully creative, though benignly destructive daughter Athena and her equally brilliant Brian, who is more of a constructive sort ; to worship and fellowship with a church family I so sincerely love, I would gladly claim any and all as housemates. These people are more than dear to me, they are precious! I find them awesome to be around and always learn from every encounter.

Folks who've known me a while, realize I can be and often am, painfully transparent and have few, if any, of my own secrets. I am currently working on this book (or perhaps two) and do not plan to leave secrets untold. By invitation early in my years in Christ, I have led a particularly unusual life, so much so that many, until they know me better, assume most of my experiences are pumped up, aggrandized, or just pain lies. Not many in my family and only some friends know the full extent of where God has walked me to and through... or where I've foolishly wandered off on my own. Simply put, my story is too full and too weird to be untrue!

God had great plans for me and he knew I love adventure and indeed find in each day some sort of mystery, miracle, merriment, misery, marvelous new fact... the list is endless. My story includes murder, attempted murder, healings, incest, romance, rape, redemption, hijacking, Mormonism, miracles of every sort - real, hard core acts of God outside the parameters of the explainable, near death experience, stupidity (my own and others') great love, deep sorrow, death, life, joy, hate, sin, fun and so much more... My story is about God and His amazing dealings with me and those close to me.

Read it and be blessed. Not by the writing, which is ordinary at best, but by the amazing way God takes a personal interest to see that I had lessons to bring growth. He used every experience as a personal sermon wrapped elaborately and especially for me. Some were incredibly painful, others had me literally jumping with glee, I've never been bored in my life, never! True statements. Come along and see....

So, after years of requests from friends and foes alike, I have prayerfully decided to continue in transparency and make the plunge before stroke, senility, yet another TBI or other brain insult makes the project even harder to accurately produce. I don't plan to hold anything back, not the hurt, not the silliness. I will try to protect identities if appropriate but hope for permission for complete candor. I don't do well with lies, get mixed up with pseudonyms, I even having trouble getting the truth straight at times and mix two events ending up with an entirely new one... interesting but not always accurate. I will be using a number of people and documents to help me keep one fact appropriately connected to the next. Wild as it may seem, each adventure is true as I recall it. I hope you weep, rejoice and walk with me as I lead you along the treacherous mountain goat trail in a semi, the agonies of incest, the glories of miracles, epiphanies of a most unusual sort, a walk out of addiction, the threat of death delivered by church fathers... Oh, I'd better leave it at that or I'll give away the plots!

What I write is true to the best of my knowledge. If you discover boo boos, let me know and we'll seek the truth together. The stories are incredible as has been my life. They are tragic, and funny, melodramatic and gut-wrenching, slap-stick and dramatic... My life has never been dull and never shall I expect it to be boring, but then I am more easily and interestingly entertained than most.

Hectic

We just got home from a nice night time walk. It's been a strange, sort of hectic day, and the walk was a nice way to unwind.

We spent almost four hours trying to get my Well Care health insurance set up. I had it in Kissimmee and loved it but when we moved here and I tried to change our address with the company, I met with nothing but frustration. I called and they said I had to have a different plan because Polk County didn't offer the same plan as the rest of Central Florida. They promised to send me information on the plans offered here but instead they sent me a form to change plans without any info on the selections. I called again and they sent all the Central Florida info (which I already had) and the same plan change form to our old address. Once more I called and gave all the info over the phone. Then I got a letter saying thanks for changing from the Essential Plan to the Essential plan (?) and leaving my address in Kissimmee. Finally, I answered an ad for a 10 AM sales meeting here at the Davenport Perkins. I was at last able to move my coverage but had to sit through all the sales pitch and all the questions and wait my turn, so it was almost two before we finally left to do the other business of the day.

For some time, I have wanted to move my Wal-Mart stock to Edward Jones who handles other money stuff for us, but I never seem to remember to get over there with my statement for the transfer. This afternoon, we actually accomplished that while making bank and investment deposits in Kissimmee. That was a blessing.

It was almost four by the time we made it to the library where one of my books was overdue. They were having a book sale, so I had to browse and buy. Brand new, never opened hardbacks by James Patterson. Yum! I bought four at $2 each!

We got home, ate supper and I sat by the phone waiting for my fire-breathing attorney Mr. Marcus to call. They had made a phone appointment with me so we could talk over settlement issues. Just befor the window of time closed, the phone rang. I had my pen and pad all ready, but his office said he would need to call another time. He's hugely busy. It will be nice when everything is finished.

So, now I have a headache that threatens to force my skull open in several places just to relieve the pressure. Enough blogging for the night.

Good God Day

After church, I met with the Vintage Violets, our local Red Hat Society club, and went to see "The Music Man" at the Osceola Center for the Arts. There were 29 of us and we all enjoyed the play immensely. It is the second play I've attended at the Center and it was even more amazing than the first. The quality of performances, set and entire production far exceeded my expectations for an amateur presentation.

From the playhouse, we caravanned over to Crabby Bills where we spent the next two hours (or more). The food was great, the service confused. There was a medical emergency (not ours) complete with police and ambulances, etc. which understandably set the staff in a dither. Our group rearranged itself after placing our drink orders as well as some food orders, so the waitress was confused, and some of us didn't recall what we ordered... it was interesting or frustrating depending on your point of view. Two waitresses came with food and about five of us had forgotten what we ordered and weren't sure what we wanted of the plates left on the tray. I thought it was kind of fun that way, getting to look over several plates of food, but the serving staff weren't having that good a time with it.

The same problem developed as the tickets came around. Not everyone remembered what they ate. It took a while, but finally everyone paid and we left. I rode with Maureen, the second lady I met when we first moved to Whispering Pines. She was in tears part of the time because a small dog had run out in front of her golf park last week and been run over. There was a great deal of discussion about the dog and its owner and what Maureen should do about having run over the little thing. It was all very emotional until I discovered the dog was not killed at all but just had a few stitches. Not that I am insensitive, but I felt there was way too much dither about it all. I think the issue is really that the dog owner is mad at Maureen. She'll either get over it or she won't.

Scott called collect from prison while I was still in Maureen's car with the group. Fortunately, we were just pulling up to my car so I said my goodbyes and visited with my son for the allotted time. They cut the calls off after so many minutes. It was good to hear from Scott. He is doing well, considering his situation. and may get to move to a halfway house sometime this summer. It's all very up in the air right now. I am praying for God's will in that situation.

So, I had a fantastic day. It was wonderful to be in the house of the Lord this morning, to spend time with my Red Hat friends seeing a delightful play and partaking of a unique dining experience today and hearing from Scott this evening. God is sure good to me!

Book Day

I have done nothing productive today and am fine with that. I finished reading Ticktock by Dean Koontz one of my favorite authors. I love how he mixes genres with wild abandon and makes it work! Would that I could write with the ease and flow he manages to intimate.

Another favorite author is James Patterson and am especially fond of the "Women's Murder Club" series as well as the novels featuring Detective Alex Cross. Sometimes Patterson team writes and some of those novels cross my line for foul language and shock value. Also, those tend to sacrifice good tight writing and story line for sensationalism that does not quite ring true.

As you see, I love a good mystery, but more than that. Agatha Christi hasn't captured me yet. I don't think she's quite weird enough for me. I like a bit of zany, other worldliness mixed in with my who-done-it reads, oh, and don't forget romance - NOT LUST OR SEX, BUT ROMANCE!

I loved the Left Behind series and This Present Darkness but sad to say, not many Christian authors put out mystery stuff I enjoy reading. I am praying God will anoint some in that area.

Well, I need to go match and fold sox. Richard will be home soon and I want a fun evening with him. We're one day behind on our Bible study. Who know how that happened. I have forgotten yesterday already.