I’m No Angel and Never Will Be


Snapchat is such fun!!!  I have been having a ball posting those short videos to Facebook about the deer committing suicide (deer season) because they wait on the side of the highway until a person gets right up even with them, and then they bound out either in front of the vehicle or smack dab into the side of it.  W.E.I.R.D.

My deer motto:  Kill them all!  Eat hearty!

There is a reason I dislike deer so very much.  Too many people have died as they tried to avoid these animals or from the result of hitting them.  My friend, Bob, an Indian motorcycle enthusiast, was killed by a deer doing one of the things he loved most:  riding his Indian motorcycle.  It came out of the trees as he cruised along one morning and either ran into him or right in front of him.  He laid that beloved motorcycle down trying to get away from the deer.  But the deer won.  The trauma was too much for his body.

Now, here is the whole purpose of telling you about Bob and why I will never be an angel.  Bob was a believer and a follower of Jesus the Christ as am I.  He struggled with stuff as do I and most other believers that I know.  Those things range anywhere from saying something we know we shouldn’t to you name it.  Those things break the good relationship, the good friendship, the joyful association, between Christ and us unless and until we acknowledge that, yes, that was sin, and we are sorry.  It does not, however, take away my salvation nor take away my assurance that what Jesus did for me, and what I accepted as truth and embraced for eternity, can ever be jerked away.

God the Father, our adopted Dad, forgives and gives us peace about making that wise choice.  God the Son is joyous that his sister or brother has made a leap in her/his faith and walk with him.  God the Spirit breathes easy for his work was accomplished, that nudging to recognize sin as sin, no matter how large or small.

And so, you see, when I die, I will be in Heaven with Jesus.  I will be walking by his side and talking with him and enjoying in the most profound sense his essence, his glory.  I will not be an angel.  I will not gain my wings.  As a believer and child of God, I will be so much more than an angel.  Scripture says believers will judge angels for we are the sons and daughters of God.  Only we human beings are made in the image of God; not angels.

If you have someone who has moved to Heaven already, as I have, then you can rejoice in your great sorrow because you know without a doubt that they have surpassed getting wings.  They are in the presence of Jesus in a very close and personal way as we cannot experience here on this limited earth.

And sometimes… perhaps those now unfettered by time or space people we love check in on us now and then.  Or perhaps they send angels to do that job for them.  Either way is fine with me.  I just know that someone is.

And when they are not, this little angel is:  my Ava.


My little angel



May you have a happy new year!

Guess My Little Projects Can Wait

Harrisburg just named the seventh victim who after a week in the hospital has just died of his injuries.  The loss of lives is just so sad.  Henryville, Indiana, and the surrounding communities have been on my heart as well.  Forty people have been counted dead.  Little Angel’s story perhaps the saddest of all:  Mom, Dad, three children.

The video by the young man in Henryville was just scary.  I can’t imagine the energy from not one but at least two big tornadoes.

Vodpod videos no longer available.

Raw Video by Danny O’Shea, posted with vodpod

getting ready to rebuild

So my home improvement projects seem rather trivial in the face of this kind of devastation.  One of the carpenters from our area was only gone about an hour or so to give the estimates on the repair for several homes.  When asked why he was back so quickly, he stated “they don’t need carpenters; they need bulldozers.”

They are starting from scratch while I am just scratching at my surface to give it the attention it needs.  Attention that can sit on the back burner until those who have no home can spare a carpenter.

Sweet Sam

Well, it’s not tomorrow, if you read my last post.  But it is Sam’s day to shine.  And he does love to shine.

Sam summer 2009

This pic was a couple of years ago, but it portrays his sweet little smile that he still has today.  Although, this picture does show his mouth closed which never happens.  He talks nonstop.

On our way home from K.C., as he sat way back in the far back seat, he asked his Mawmaw, who had driven the whole trip, why she had to do all the driving and Gigi was just sitting there.  See how thoughtful he is?  Then he proceeded to tell us how unfair that was and all Gigi was doing was just lying around.  I had to save my reputation and explain that I had to take care of little Ava so I really couldn’t drive.  I don’t think he bought it.

Sam is a special gift to me from God as well.  If you read my last post, you saw that 2001 was a bad year, but in 2002 God gave me little Jack.  Then the next year, in 2003, we were all busy getting ready for Jack’s first birthday which kept me from dwelling on the anniversary of my husband’s death, as well as all the other things that were occurring within my family.  Then in the latter part of 2003, Julie (bless her heart) was pregnant again.  Another baby due the last of April!  Yippee.  Another surprise since they chose to let the sex be kept a secret from them once again.

And once again, in March of 2004, five weeks early, Julie had to go into delivery with Sam.  Another wonderful distraction from sad memories.  This time I didn’t make it in time for the birth, just barely missing it,  and so the evening was filled with anticipation and eagerness to get there, phone calls back and forth.  “Do we have a baby yet?  What do you think it’s going to be?”  And once again, the little fella came five weeks early, on March 12, the exact date of my husband’s death only two years previous.   And once again around the exact same time as my husband lay dying, my little nephew was being born.  A gift to me from God.

Little Sam fell as in love with me as I was with him, just as Jack had done.  My life was again filled with a baby, a new little life, plus the added delight of a two-year-old Jack. Such wonderful distractions from sad situations.  And once again my sister and Julie shared their little bundles of joy with me.

So for the four years after the death of my husband, on each anniversary of that death, a little life was born or a celebration of that little life was taking place.  These two boys have been God’s blessing to me… and at this time of thankfulness, I am so thankful for them.

My Sweet Jack and Sam

The sister and I took a day trip to the doc today, getting all kinds of tests taken and blood vaccuumed from our veins.  Next week is the return trip to see how healthy/not-so-healthy we are.  Let’s hope it turns out better than today’s extraordinarily long day–maybe she will allow me to tell you about it later — however, we did swear each other to absolute secrecy.

But the whole point of that little intro (because we talked about them) was to bring up my nephews, Jack and Sam.  I’m sure I have mentioned them before and maybe even why they are so special to me, but today I am going to tell you again because today I am counting them as one of my greatest blessings and am most thankful this month for the little boogers.

Sam and Jack Easter 2011

The year 2001 at approximately 5:00 in the evening on March 12 my husband died.  And I was devastated.  Exactly one year later, little Jack was born.  And here’s the story…

The week of March 12, 2002, I took off three days of work because I knew I wouldn’t be able to concentrate at work.  It was the anniversary of my husband’s death, and the year had been extremely rough for me.  In January of 2002 my mini-breakdown, as I call it, was only appeased by a trip to the Eagle’s Nest (another awesome story for another day).  By March I was back at the regular grind of learning to live without parts of me or, in other words, great grief.  The only way I can express to you how grief feels is to say it is like losing parts of your body, say, a leg and having to learn to live without that part, learning to walk all over again.  Knowing the days around March 12 were going to be tough ones, I prepared and took time off from work.

My sister’s daughter-in-law was pregnant at that time, due the middle of April, but on March 11 Darla calls and says, “Julie’s water broke; we’re going to the hospital.”  Oh, my!  That’s at least five weeks early!!  I jumped in my vehicle and met them on the highway, being the lead vehicle, honking at people to move their slow butts out of the way (the contractions were getting closer and by golly she wanted that epidural!).  We had to get there in time for the epidural!!  It just so happened that the 11th came that year on the same day of the week that James died, not the date, but the day of the week.  I had been reliving all the events.  Until Dar called.

As we raced to the hospital and waited for him to be born, I forgot about everything else.  Wes, the uncle-to-be, was there with the video camera interviewing all of us.  “What do you think it’s going to be?  Girl?  Boy?”  Davy and Julie had chosen to be surprised at birth instead of finding out from the sonogram what the sex would be.  That made it doubly exciting!  Wes had all sorts of neat things on that video, fun things, and we were all so eager.

Not until it was all said and done did we realize that little Jack had been born at the same time my husband had been dying only a year earlier.  What had been destined to be a heart-wrenching evening had turned into one of joy and thanksgiving.  A gift from God to me.

Jack summer 2009

From the first moment that little fella was put in my arms, he loved me.  He wanted me even when his Momma was around or his Mawmaw.  And even though Jack was my sister’s first grandchild, she gave him up to me, letting him love on me instead of her many, many times.  And even though Jack was his Momma’s first-born son, she gave him up to me, to let him love on me many, many times.

How can I express my thankfulness to God for these women?  How can I make you understand how special a gift that was to me in a time I was losing every person I loved to death or mental illness or drugs?  What can I possibly say to convey the depth of aloneness that was relieved by this little baby’s hand grasping mine and his great love and longing he had for me?

My gratitude to God for this precious gift He gave me, even though his sweet Momma had to give birth five weeks early for me to get it/him on the day I needed, is deep.  I will not understand this life until I get to Heaven; it is too complex; there are too many contradictions.  Why does something bad happen or something wonderful happen?  When I was yelling and screaming and mad at God, He finally had a little talk with me, through chapters 38-41 in the Book of Job, and told me to stop.  I’ll let you read it and see what He said.

Tomorrow… Sweet little Sam.

The Week in Retrospect

There is a little saying that I tell my children all the time, and other people, too, if I feel they need to hear it: “Just give it a year; a lot can happen in a year.”  In that year we have had babies born to lift our spirits, overcome hardship, renewed a marriage… the list goes on and on.

A lot can happen in a week, too.  This past week they were sad events: the loss of my little Boaz and much more importantly the loss of a dad, the dad my children still needed in their lives.  And the little saying just won’t work this time because that kind of loss never leaves.  That kind of loss is the kind in which a person has to learn to live differently:  without the presence they loved.

This week was an emotional week where my children and family met to honor someone they loved, to remember the goodness and the grace of God within him, to pour out loving support.  It was a time where friends of their dad came to tell our children good things about their dad, tell funny stories, and express sorrow.

When I woke up this morning, I was going to hop up out of bed and start right off with the Halloween contest and the goals for the month.  But starting off with remembering the past week was more appropriate.  And then we have to move on because that’s the way life is.  It may take us longer than a year (sometimes a lifetime) to move on, but that we must do.

My grandfather-in-law, Joe Wright,  was a mortician.  He experienced death on a personal basis regularly, not just in his business but through the loss of many of his close, loved, family members.  After the death of his grandson, my husband James, when I was so distraught, he talked with me and said, “Life is for the living.  We have to keep living until we die.”   Not existing, but living.

So this month, I want you to live.  Make the effort to do something you don’t ordinarily do:  exercise? read your Bible? dance? say I love you at least once a day? send me your Halloween photos?

Blessings to you on your efforts.  Send me an update on what you are doing.  Send me Halloween photos.


March 12 , 2001, was the day schizophrenia finally won the battle within the mind of my son, and the day my husband died as a result of that lost battle.

I purposefully waited until after that date to write this tribute to my late husband because that is also the day his sister tries to celebrate her birthday.  A hard thing to do, I’m sure, as she has lost her entire family unit (grandpa, grandma, great-aunt, great-uncle, mother, father, and brother) with whom she spent her childhood years until she moved away to college and then marriage.  Thankfully, God has given her a great second family although this year she has also lost a member of that as well:  a wonderful, loving, caring father-in-law.

It has been ten years since my husband died.  It seems like yesterday.  I will write about him this week because he deserves to have things written about him, and I know others miss him as much as I do and are taking note, as I do, of the passing years without him.

James Joseph “Jimmie Joe” was younger than I was; someone I wouldn’t in a million and one years have ever dreamed I would one day marry.  I suppose God had a different plan, or maybe He just took the circumstances James and I started and created something good, as only God can do.

James lived down the street from me.  He was between girlfriends, I suppose, and I was going through a divorce.  He would call and talk for a brief moment or stop and talk if he saw me out, and one day even knocked on my door.  And tell you the truth, I’m still not sure how I finally said I would go out with him.  But those first encounters eventually led to an actual date a few months later… and a marriage a couple of years later.  It was a scandalous affair!  We were the talk of our little town, and didn’t give a rip.  The only thing I cared about and he cared about were our families and how they would handle it, what they would think.  And I have to say, they were great sports even though I’m sure it was difficult to understand.  After all, James and I were polar opposites.

What a beautiful smile!

He loved that hat!

Can you see why anyone could not resist that smile?

Being polar opposites wasn’t enough to stand in the way of fate.  At least that’s what James always said, “You may as well accept it; it’s fate.”  There were lots of things he said, good things from a good man.

Tomorrow we’ll talk about that good man some more.