Dark Nights of My Gummy Bear Soul

You know it's serious when I don't even have a sarcastic or fun, happy-clappy title for you. The first time I encountered the Confederate flag face to face I was a grown woman of 32 years old. I was welcoming a southern presbyterian college group from a state that could be classified as the "Deep South." Many of the participants in the program I helped facilitate were from a college ministry of the Presbyterian church and many of them hailed from the South. I loved experiencing a taste of southern culture through the students, interns and campus pastors. We had many groups from all over the country, but hands down my favorite teams were usually from this specific denomination and college ministry that was so prevalent in the southern part of our country. ** I clicked so well with leaders and students from this denomination, that when Mike and I relocated totally unexpectedly to the South from Chicago we had peace and joy about joining a church from that denominati

As my mother lay dying at the hospital she had previously worked at for years, I was intrigued to see who came to visit her. It wasn't the higher level executives that she had faithfully served for years, often times befriending them and attending their dinner parties and things.  No, the people that knocked on her door and stood somberly by her bedside were the cleaning crew, the former foreign exchange med students my mom had welcomed into her home and our family, the security guards, and techs from this hospital. They often stood there quietly, some with tears in their eyes, and told who ever was there that my mom was special. She was kind. She looked out for them and always gave them little "surprises." (my mom gave little tiny weirdo gifts of candy and trinkets to me all the time. It was the kind of thing you received in the mail or in person and were like WHAT? but its the kind of thing now I miss receiving. I guess I wasn't the only one she handed these ou

I never saw that movie by the way. I don't plan to. If you know me well, you know when I'm really angry or upset, Im quiet. If I'm seemingly angry, but still yelling....then we're mostly good. I lose words when Im to the point. Resultingly, I pray or commune with God at times in pictures. Mental pictures. Im not referring to visions or anything supernatural in this instance. Like after my mom suddenly died, I was far too overcome to look at God for quite a while. I did not turn my eyes to the hills from which my help came. I had these times of sitting in this old, overstuffed blue recliner chair in my silent apartment and rocking and staring. It was a sun-filled apartment and the usually rowdy, rocking complex was quiet in the daytime hours. I knew I wasn't alone and had the comfort of knowing the Lord and his angels were heavy with me many days as I rocked in my utter grief. In my mind's eye, I was comforted my images of God looking at me while I looked awa

Today MJ's service coordinator pushed me again (3rd time) to consider being a mentor to parents of children with special needs through CDSA and the Exceptional Child program. Im kinda like.....are you sure? For many reasons, Im not sure . I think if she knew me a little more, SHE might not be so sure. Nevertheless, I have been contemplating what I would even say to other moms. Im kinda-sorta in a few special needs moms groups solely online, but I don't participate or relish in those communities.  In fact the weight of many of the other moms burdens scare and overwhelm me and it makes me take my eyes off the ball that is faithfully living our life. I don't think Im strong enough or smart enough to enter into another families pain and fear and try to lead them anywhere. I could tell them about Jesus, but I don't think she was asking me to evangelize other moms.  Here are my preliminary thoughts on all of this. Dear mom who has been graced with the label of "SPECI