My Daughter

Tomorrow is my daughters birthday.  I'm not going to say how old she is--it just reminds me of how old I am!  Let's just say she's in her thirties, married with 2 children.  I am sure, or I should say I hope that I am sure--that she knows how proud I am of her.  I am sure that she knows how much I love her and that I admire her immensely.  I am sure of that.  I always told my children as they were growing up how much I loved them and how proud I was, but it seems as they grow older I verbalize it less.  My tenderness is most shown now to my grandchildren and that bothers me a little.  So I thought I'd write this blog all about her and what I truly think of her.

She looks and acts exactly as one might expect--she is a true division of her father and me--with attributes of both of us.  The first thing I noticed after her birth was the fact that she had her father's feet and hands.  It was remarkable to me.  As I sat holding her in my arms I was amazed that a baby could look like a person. I don't know why--it just surprised me.  She was a tiny thing weighing only 6 lbs 6 oz. I loved that she was so little.  I wanted out of that hospital fast and into my own home so that I could take care of her my way.  I was extremely scheduled and she followed along nicely.  Sleeping 12 hours at night, yes, I said 12, and taking good naps during the day--my little baby girl was a breeze.  Until she hit age 2.

I don't want to belabor the terrible 2's, or the why? 3's, or the smart mouth 4's--let's just say it was a rough 3 years.  And then she started school.  She was very independent--as we were waiting in line for her first day of kindergarten she let go of my hand and that was that.  She no longer needed me.  She was in her element--friends and fun were about to begin.  I cried all the way home--so much so that at one point I had to pull off to the side of the road.

I have to honestly say that other than hormonal inconsistencies every so often she was easy to raise.  Sure there were the frequent arguments with her brothers, there were a few times of why can't I go?  But, she was a reasonable child with a great personality and a very tender heart.  I didn't go through what some of my friends did--I didn't have problems with her as far as drugs, alcohol, and boys were concerned.  Nope, she was pretty much perfect and she still is--in my opinion.  She's beautiful and super smart, she's got a fantastic exuberant personality, she doesn't shy away from problems, she's a great mom, and in fact, has so much more going for her than I ever did.  I think that's the part she gets from her dad.  She's always smiling, laughing, always ready to lend a hand, and I am so impressed with her that it makes my heart truly swell with pride.  I look at her and I am so thankful and grateful and still stand and watch her in amazement.  That's my daughter?  How did I get so lucky?  What did I ever do to deserve a daughter like her?  I'm glad that I only have one--I can gush over her all I want to.  We are the closest of friends, we talk a lot on the phone and visit as much as possible.  I feel blessed beyond measure.  And I love her so much.

When I grow up, I want to be just like her--my daughter.  Happy birthday!  I love you!

Groceries

Or more aptly entitled friends in need.  I think a lot about friends of mine who were or are in need.  Maybe because I have been and most likely will be in the future--a friend in need.  Right now I might not need money or food.  I might just need a shoulder to cry on or a friend who understands my emotions.  Someone who can just listen and not judge.  Someone who doesn't say--you got yourself into this mess, it's up to you to get yourself out.  Friends don't need that kind of friendship.  Friends need someone to lean on, someone to walk alongside them, someone who does not judge or critique them.  It's the perfect friend really, the kind of friend that I want anyway, and the kind of friend that I want to be.

And so one day without judging my friend, God used me to step up and help out.  This particular friend went to the same church and Bible study that I did.  There were about 30 or so of us in that class.  We'd share needs and pray for each other.  It was all very touchy-feely.  We would talk, cry, pray, and look at what the Bible had to say about this or that.  We would try hard not to judge and we didn't talk about each other outside of that little room.  We wanted to be good friends to one another--to listen, pray and be real.

One friend in the class was in desperate need.  Her phone and other utilities were being shut off one by one--there was no money to pay the bills.  She was running out of food and she needed us.  We all prayed for her and we cried with her.  We could all pretty much relate, we were all young moms just trying to get by.  I think she felt better when she left that day just because she had unburdened herself.

However, God had another plan for me.  As I was making out my own grocery list the next day, going through my coupons and budget, I felt an overwhelming need to get up right then and go to the store.  I left my list on the counter and off I went.  When I got to the grocery store I began to put the oddest things into my cart.  Things I had never bought before.  Things I didn't like.  But, they weren't for me, now were they?


By the time I had paid and got to my car I knew.  I immediately drove to my friends home, knocked on her door and began unloading the many bags of groceries.  The problem though was that she wasn't home--only her husband and son were there.  Wow, the surprised look on her husband's face.  I didn't really know what to say to him--he didn't go to church and I didn't even know his name.  So, I dumbly said the first thing that came to my mind.

I told him--I'm a friend of your wife from church and I was praying and God told me to bring this food to you.  I was very nervous and most likely looked, sounded and acted like a nut, but when I glanced over at him--he was crying.  He reached over and pulled their grocery wish list off the refrigerator door and handed it to me.  And there on that piece of paper was a list of all the crazy stuff that I had bought at the grocery store.

He came to church after that.  He had seen a miracle that day.  I am sure that they felt very blessed by God.  I am sure that they were thankful and I am sure that their lives were changed.  However, my life changed too.  God used me.  I love that feeling.  I want to be used--by Him.  I want to be used by the God that I love and serve with all my heart.  I want to be that kind of friend.  One who listens doesn't judge, and always serves.  I really, really want to.

Little Brown Bag

I was a fairly young mother by today's standard.  I was in my 20's when I had my children.
And with my first child, I was taught a life lesson that has stayed with me all these years.  It was one of many but almost feels like it was one of the first and most important because it is so prominent in my mind even today.  Whenever I see a pair of little girls Mary Jane shoes I immediately think of what I was taught one day.

We had moved into a new home in a new city a few months before and I was just beginning to make friends with some of the neighbors and a few other young moms at our new church.  I had joined a ladies' Bible study and a friend who lived fairly close by was going to stop and pick me up on the way.  However, about a 1/2 hour before she was due to arrive I called her and told her that I wouldn't be able to make it that day after all--something had come up.  I was vague.  I did not want her to know the truth.

That morning while getting my daughter ready I couldn't seem to get her little shoes on her little feet.  They wouldn't fit.  I tried to get them on, again and again, twisting and turning but no way were they going to fit.  And she only had the one pair.  I began to panic a little.  What would I do now?

You see, we lived on a very tight budget.  We lived payday to payday.  We had bought a new house, which meant lots of hidden expenses, I wasn't working, and we now had a child.  Money was tight, really tight.  We weren't getting paid for another week.  I had enough food, I had paid my utility bills, and there was nothing left over.  And besides, children's shoes weren't cheap.  I had no idea what I was going to do.  Stay hidden inside I guess.  Where no one would know.

I remember sliding down to the floor, tears rolling down my face, and praying.  It hurt my heart that my little girl needed shoes and that I had no way of buying her any until the following week.  We didn't use credit cards--I needed cash.  And I didn't have any.  I prayed and I asked God for help.  I don't remember the details of my prayer--just the emotion behind it.  I was hurting for our situation.  Maybe a little mad, a little upset, and maybe just a little proud.  Why was this happening to me?  And why today?  Couldn't it have happened tomorrow?  When I didn't have Bible study.  Didn't God want me to go to Bible study?  I was feeling more and more sorry for myself as the minutes ticked by.

A few minutes later the doorbell rang.  I peeked through the peephole and there stood my friend.  I didn't want to answer the door.  What was I going to say to her?  But, I opened it. And there she stood, with a little brown bag in her hand.  She held it out to me and said here, I don't know why I'm bringing these to you but I couldn't do or go anywhere without dropping these by.  The feeling of urgency was too great.  I opened the little brown bag and there inside was a little pair of Mary Jane shoes--just the size my daughter needed.

Have you heard the expression you could have knocked me over with a feather?  Well, you could have.  I started to cry.  I invited her in and told her my story.  She started to cry and told me her story--the story that was going on in her home.  As she was getting ready she kept walking by the shoes that her daughter had outgrown and had the feeling to take them to me.  However, she was sure that I wouldn't want them.  After all, I had a new house and presented myself as being all together.  She didn't want to feel embarrassed if I turned the shoes down.

Pride.  I think looking back now that there was one word that was the epicenter of our lesson.  God wanted to teach each of us something.  For me, I believe He was teaching me to ask and to trust in Him.  For her, I think He was teaching her to obey when He spoke.

It's been over 40 years and I cannot look at a little brown paper bag or a little pair of girls' shoes without thinking of my own pride and how God met my needs that morning.  I am thankful.  He has always met my needs, has always been patient with me, and has always been my teacher.  My prayer is that I always remain His faithful student.  And that I don't ever forget the lessons of my life.

Tornado warning

I am afraid.  There are tornado sirens going off--the wind is howling, the trees are bending and there is loud thunder.  My poor dog is whining and moaning.  We are in a corner of our basement.  Lanterns ready, listening to the thunder and the wind.  I am still able to type on my computer, I even have an internet connection--so far. I think the harder the wind blows the faster I type.

I have lived in the Midwest for 11 years now and this is the first time that I've ever heard the sirens.  My heart is beating fast.  I am nervous.  I need to calm down.  However, the new sounds outside are foreign to me.  I don't like them.  It sounds similar to a freight train.  Scary.  I am worried about my neighbors.  Are they in their basements?  Do all of them have basements?  I'm not sure.  I should have asked them and told them to come to our house if the sirens ever go off.  Deep breaths.

Fear--alarm, panic, frustration, uneasiness.  Just a few of the dictionaries definitions of the word fear.  I don't like the feeling.  I try hard not to be fearful.  I try hard to believe that God will protect me.  He'll keep me safe.  I have to trust and sometimes that is hard.  And yet, as each minute passes and I see that I am safe, it becomes easier to trust Him.

Hopefully, before too long the winds will die down and once again we'll be able to go upstairs and carry on with our evening routine.  The sounds, the fear, the emotions of the moment will pass.  And I want to know--what did I learn from the experience?   


It seems to be over now.  It's raining a hard steady beating rain.  The thunder is still loud.  But, the sirens have stopped.  Everything is going to be OK, we're back upstairs, watching the weather reports.  O'Hare airport has been shut down, they've herded people into the tunnels.  Trees are down.  Power is out to over 260,000 Chicago residents.  We still have ours though.  Things seem normal here.  Things are becoming calmer by the minute.  I'm glad this is over.  It was exciting though and scary at the same time.

I think I liked it.

The T word

When I was in the 6th grade and 11 years old I had a mad crush on a classmate.  He was so cute, with dark brown hair and big brown eyes.  And low and behold--he liked me back.  Now when you are only 11 years old, it's the little things that can make or break a relationship.  For instance, one summer afternoon as a gift he brought me a small bottle of coke (remember those cute little things from the 60's) and a bag of potato chips.  Which in today's gift market is equivalent to diamond stud earrings.  I was impressed let me tell you.  It was the best gift I had ever received thus far.

We never actually did anything as a couple, other than walking the school grounds talking.  And once in a while, he'd walk me home--I lived just around the corner from the school.  I loved those innocent times.  Just us--walking and talking.  I wish I could remember our conversations, but I can't.  Not even one.  It makes me sad.  I do remember the emotions though. Puppy love at its best.  I think we made a cute couple.

One day stands out in my memory more than any of the others.  A day when he walked me home from school.  Something happened.  We were standing on the street corner talking.  I had my hand on the stop sign pole, swinging around and around--just chatting away.  When out of the corner house a woman came to her front porch and yelled at me.  It was obvious that she'd been drinking, her words were slurred as she screamed out--TRAMP get out of here and go home.  Go hang out at your own house!  I was stunned that she had yelled at me, and even though I did not know what the word tramp meant, I knew that it had to be something really horrible just by the way her mouth twisted as she yelled out the word.  I ran all the way home and when I saw my mother I began to cry.  I asked her--what does tramp mean?   She immediately wanted to know where I had heard it and who had called me that.  When I answered she was out of the house in a shot!  Down to the corner, she went.  I was scared to death--what was she going to do?  


Well, I guess she gave that woman a piece of her mind because the woman at the corner never showed her face again that I can remember.   But, one thing that I do remember was my mother's explanation to me of the word tramp.  I was shocked.  How could I at 11 years old be what that lady called me?  And right then and there I made a vow to myself that I never would be--a tramp.

Isn't it funny how one little incident, one little word can have an impact on our lives?  Because of her, I remained a virgin until my wedding day.  Because of her, I was very careful of the way others perceived me.  I did not ever want to be considered a tramp.  It was hurtful and mean what happened to me that day.  In a way, one word, the T word changed the course of my life.

I don't think about that women very often, but I do think about the words I use.  Do they hurt and tear down?  Or do they encourage and build up?  I like to think that I choose my words carefully.  At least I hope I do, I try.

Jealousy

The topic of jealousy keeps coming to my mind.  I've been thinking a lot about the people and the things that I have been (in the past and sometimes even now) jealous of.  I hate that emotion and when I feel it coming on I immediately have a good stern talking to myself.  I will not succumb to it--ever!  I don't want to be the type of person that is ruled by envy.  I want to always have that feeling of contentment, of blessings, of gratefulness, and if I let jealousy come into play then I have failed.  So, I deal with it when it comes up.  I pray about it and ask God to change my perspective.  And He does--within hours or sometimes days if I'm honest.  My outlook changes before my eyes.  I like to think that I've grown a bit during these times of self-reflection and asking God for His help.  I certainly could not do it on my own.

I thought of something the other day that I try hard not to dwell on.  I think I'll write about it though.  I'm going to be a little vague, I want to protect the person that I am writing about.

Several years ago I made a new friend.  We had many things in common.  We were both married, loved dogs, loved to shop, and had other mutual friends.  We started hanging out, sometimes just the two of us, sometimes as couples and sometimes in our newly formed little group of friends.  But then over the span of 2 or 3 years our relationship seemed a little strained.  She was too busy most of the time to hang out, something always came up.  I also started noticing other little changes--changes in the way my other friends were treating me.  Our gatherings began to become uncomfortable for me and as I expressed these feelings to my husband he would always say--maybe you're just imagining it.  And so, for months I went with the flow and tried hard to not imagine anything.  It didn't work--things only got worse.  Until one day I called my friend and asked her if we could meet for lunch.  She was hesitant, I was forceful.  She agreed.

Looking back now, with hindsight being 20/20, that was a very difficult lunch for me.  She had some mighty powerful words for me to hear.  I asked that she lay her cards on the table--I wanted to know what was wrong.  I wanted the truth--and no sugar coating, please.  It turned out, according to her--that she was jealous of me.  She proceeded to tell me all that she was jealous of--every last thing.  From my relationship with my husband to the freedom of not having to work to my fun loving personality--she basically hated it all.  She plain didn't like anything about me.  I can honestly say that I didn't see that coming.  I thought we were friends.  We had shared some personal stuff.  We ran in the same circle.  Now what?  I told her right then that although I had known something was up, that I had not discussed it with anyone other than my husband.  She told me that she had discussed it--with our mutual friends!  Ah, now it was all making sense to me.  Things began to fall into place.  While I was wasting my time wondering what I had said or did to hurt her--she was going behind my back and gossiping about me.  In my imagination?  I don't think so.

We finished our 3-hour lunch, agreed that we were no longer friends, hugged and said goodbye.  And that was it.  A couple of years later I moved away.   There is still a part of me that is sad though.  I think about that friendship and how it was ruined by jealousy and I wonder why?  Why can't we be happy for our friends?  Why can't we be their greatest cheerleaders, their confidants, their shoulder to cry on?  Why do we have to want what they have, and when we don't, we end the relationship because of jealousy?

I wish I had the answers, but I don't.  I just know that as a Christian I can't ever allow myself to become like that.  I have to--no matter what happens--forgive and forget and go on.  I have to--be the best friend I can be.  I have to--always be there for her--even now.  I have to...

Quirks

I think that even the word quirk is funny.  I love saying it.  Quirk.  It's funny.

I have a lot of weird little quirks, little things that you might not know about me, here a just a few.

I don't wake up first thing in the morning--I need 2 cups of coffee then you can talk to me.
I have to shower and have makeup on before anyone sees me--it's the law.
I eat shredded wheat or granola every morning, I even travel with it.
I collect tiny things--perfume bottles, boxes, itty-bitty things.
I love button-down shirts, flip flops, and handbags.
I don't wear dresses or nylons.  Ever.  I hate them.
I love cold weather.  And snow.
I could easily travel 75% of the time.
I want to always have a house big enough for my children and grandkids to visit.
I will always have a dog.  They are comforting to me.  True companions.
I love diet coke and shrimp.
I love to cook but also love to eat out.
I make friends for life--even if they hurt me deeply.
I love makeup and jewelry.
I hate dairy products, Indian food, and sushi.
I have an addictive personality--I have to constantly check myself.
I love to pray and sing to God, and I do this daily.
I am a texture person--I like to touch things.
I cry easily.  All my close friends know this--I am extremely tender-hearted.
I always have a rocking chair in my home--I actually wear them out.
Although my degree is in Psychology, I also would have loved being a chef or a photographer.
I am a clean freak.  It's a control issue.  I like things nice and tidy.
I make my bed every morning and am always caught up on laundry.
I love to have house guests.  I love to entertain.
I am always ON.  I don't need too much down time.
I love to shop and think of it as a hobby--same with going to lunch.
I don't relax well and have to pencil it in.
I don't understand people who are behind in technology.
I obey traffic laws--almost to a fault.
I gravitate towards people who laugh and talk a lot.
I am sentimental and nostalgic.

So, these are just a few of my quirks.  I like being transparent--even if it causes people to be judgmental of me.  I want to learn and grow from criticism.  However, I also want to be true to myself.  If my quirkiness bothers you--you might want to just stay away.  I doubt that at my age I will change too much, and if there is change coming it might not be for the better.  Just thought you'd want to know.

Number 5

He came this past week, all 8 lbs and 1 oz of him.  He has dark hair and is 20 inches long, just like his daddy--my son.  He looks like his daddy too, and when I held him, he felt like his daddy.   It was fun seeing three of my five grandchildren.  I deeply love my family.

However, something strange has happened to me over the last few days.  It's only happened one other time in my life.  I hope that I can adequately describe the emotions that I am feeling.

When I was nearing my 30th birthday my husband threw me a surprise birthday party.  All my friends were in on it.  I was completely caught off guard.  I was told that we were going to a couples planning meeting for a church committee we were on.  So, pulling up to my friend's house and seeing a lot of cars didn't really seem strange to me.  I walked in and saw my friends and then before I could even wonder why so and so were here that weren't even on the committee, they all yelled surprise!  And I was surprised.  They had an entire sofa full of gifts for me and the most beautiful cake.  I had a wonderful time and thoroughly enjoyed the evening.  Until I got home.  And then I cried.

How was I going to explain to my husband--after all the hard work he had put into that party that I was sad?  That I was depressed?  And that I'd give anything to be 21 again?  What kept playing through my mind for a few weeks before the party and for a few weeks after the party was this one continuous thought--I am 3o years old, I am married and I have 3 kids.  It wasn't that I wanted anything to change in my life, it's just that I woke up one morning to the reality of my life.  I realized that I was getting older and there was nothing I could do about it.  Gone was my youth!  I was 30 years old!

It's funny to think about it now, but it wasn't so funny then.  It took me several months to come to grips with my life.  Once I worked through the pain (and yes, I'm being a little dramatic here) I was fine.  And I've never ever felt that way since.  I haven't been depressed over any other birthday.

And then--grandbaby number 5 came along, and all those feelings came back with a big whoosh--I have 5 grandkids, I'm old and there's nothing I can do about it.  


I know now that in a few weeks I'll be over this little pity party of mine.  I'll be just fine.  I'll be enjoying life again.  Running around with my husband and my friends and feeling pretty ding dang good about life.  It's just that right now--well, it's hard.  Yep, it's a hard time for me.  I've decided to embrace this emotion, maybe hold on to it for a while, feel a little sorry for myself and cry a little.

Then, one bright summer morning I know that I'll wake up and I'll be all better.  I'll still be married, still have 3 kids and still have 5 grandkids.  Nothing will have changed--except me.  I'll have come to terms with reality again.  And all will be well with the world.

If You're Like Me

If you're like me
you might wonder--is this all there is?
If you're like me
you might wake up some days thankful
If you're like me
you might wake up some days not
If you're like me
you might miss your kids too much
If you're like me
you might have a broken heart
If you're like me
you might wish things were different
If you're like me
you might be glad they aren't
If you're like me
you might love life one day
If you're like me
you might not like it the next
If you're like me
you might be very lonely
If you're like me
you might have lots of friends
If you're like me
you might praise Him one day
If you're like me
you might be angry the next
If you're like me
you might feel like singing
If you're like me
you might feel like yelling
If you're like me
you might wake up feeling young
If you're like me
you might go to bed feeling old
If you're like me
we might really all be the same

13 Schools

I had to count and recount them over and over again in my head.  And then I used my fingers and then I wrote the names all out.  Year after year--yep, 13 schools.  That's how many schools I went to and I didn't even go to kindergarten.  It's hard for me to even imagine going to all those different schools, all those different cities and all those different and gut-wrenching first days.  13 times.  13 schools.

I went to 7 elementary schools.  It did a number on my psyche, I can tell you that much.  Imagine being 6 years old and walking into 1st grade for the very first time.  My teacher was a very mean older women who did not like the idea that I had missed kindergarten.  I held her back from her wonderful teaching skills I guess.  I didn't know how to really behave in a classroom setting, I had not yet learned how to read and to top it off I was a very shy and quiet girl. Until I got to know you, and then all bets were off.  It turns out that I was a talker, and she hated talkers.  It was a rough year for me, fortunately, the years and schools that followed were much easier to navigate.  I was a quick learner.  It also helped that I had a high IQ and that I was an observer--which were invaluable tools to have in the schools that followed.

As we moved from house to house, city to city, and school to school several things began to happen that shaped my personality and character. Fortunately for me--I am an optimist by nature.  For that reason, I believe that I was able to overcome a lot of the obstacles that were thrown into my path.  What would have taken some down, made me a stronger more resilient person.  Don't get me wrong--I still to this day deal with feelings and emotions that are fraught with negative implications.  However, I believe that it's all in how you perceive your life--it's that perception that keeps me afloat.

For example--if I believe that God directs my steps then who am I to question the path that He lays out for me.  If I believe that He protects me--then wouldn't He protect my heart also?  And if I believe that He loves me more that any other person on the face of this earth loves me--then who am I to question that love?

So, with that in mind--I chose not to dwell on the number of schools I attended, the number of homes I lived in and the number of scary first days that I endured--instead I choose to have a thankful heart for the people that I've met along the way, for the ability to adapt quickly to new situations, for the heart that He's placed in me to love and care for others, for the love of all things new and fun and for the husband that He blessed me with.  You see--my husband has been the one stable factor (other than God of course) in my life.  I met him when I was young, I was 17 years old.  He has been my confidant, my best friend, my sounding board, and so on.  He is the one who helped me turn my upside down childhood into a right side up adulthood. He is a wonder to me--a miracle, a true gift from God.  It is a blessing when he comes along side me, helps me to understand and make sense of a crazy world, and is patient with me all at the same time.  And while in the midst of it all I am given all the time I need to figure things out for myself.

It's hard sometimes.  I'm not going to lie.  There are days that I question my upbringing.  There are days that I question my insecurities.  However most days I don't.  Most days I am grateful.  Most days.

Question

Many years ago I was asked a question.  I honestly didn't know if it was a rhetorical question or a literal question.  I don't think anyone did.  I was with a large group of people, the question was asked and I had to make a decision.  It happened to be an action question--it required me to do something--if I were to take it literally.  The decision I made was not emotion based.  I did not dwell on it for a long amount of time.  I knew my answer.  I just wasn't sure if the person asking the question wanted the answer.  So, that was my dilemma that day.  How do I take the question?

I chose in those few seconds to take the question literally.  After all--he paused.  Maybe he shouldn't have.  Because I took action.  Right then.  Right there.  I stood up in front of about 1500 people and did what I did.

Here was his question.  What would you do if Jesus Christ were standing here in front of you right now?  Here at this very pulpit.  Looking at you. What would you do?

You could have heard a pin drop in that church, no one breathed, no one moved.  Was he serious?  That's what we were all thinking.  What does he want us to do?

And so, I stood.  I excused myself as I scooted past the others in my row and made my way to the front of the church.  And there in front of 1500 people--I knelt.  That's what I would do, that's what I did. I knelt.  Tears began to roll down my face, so I bowed my head.  I stayed that way for a very long time.  I was unaware of others--were they coming down too?  Was I the only one?  I didn't know.  I could only hear the pastor--he was crying.

After several long minutes--perhaps 10 or so, I got up.  The entire church was still quiet.  It seems that I was joined by just a few others.  I think that's why he was crying.  Really?  Only a few of us?  Where were the others? Where were my friends?  Were we the only ones that thought it was so much more than a rhetorical question?

I slowly made my way back to my seat--red-faced, a little bewildered, a little stunned.  He didn't finish the sermon.  He was done.  He was broken.  His heart hurt.  And now mine did too.

I know that on that day so many years ago others wanted to stand too but were afraid.  Or maybe they didn't want to, I'm not sure.  All I knew was that I had to stand.  I wasn't given a choice.  I had already given my heart and my life to God, so how in the world could I just sit there and do nothing?

Yes, sometimes I wonder what others thought of me that day.  Did they make fun of me, mock me or think that I thought I was so spiritual?  I guess I'll never know.  I just did what I had to do.  I took my mask off that day, I showed my true self.  I bowed before the Lord God my maker.
And I'm glad I did.