music

Have you ever heard a song…..and been instantly transported back to another time and another place?  Does music evoke memories and emotions for you?     Perhaps a first kiss,  your first dance, your first boyfriend?  Your favorite song from high school, the song you played on repeat when you first learned to drive….the songs you listened to when you had your first heartbreak.   The songs you listened to with your friends as you hung out after school, the songs you sang at church as a child, the songs your family sang together.  Songs from summer camp or vacation Bible School, songs you sang to your children when they were babies.

How many, many words are there for songs or music?  Must be hundreds, maybe thousands!!   Songs, lullabies, ditties, nursery rhymes, slow jams, groovy dance hits, fight songs, inspirational hymns, Psalms, spirituals, anthems, arias, drinking songs and shanties, rounds, incantations, ballads, carols, chorales, ditties, chants, refrains, verses, odes, lyricals, poems, pieces, strains, melodies, numbers, tunes, choruses, madrigals, carillons, arrangements, cantatas, concertos, operettas, works, scores, etudes, stanzas, symphonies, opus,  rhapsodies, sonatas, cavatinas, pastorales, cadence, standards, compositions…..

And types of music?  There is just something for everybody!!  Golden oldies, country, western, rock and roll, rap, opera, soul, r & b, hard rock, punk, grunge, indie rock, new wave, progressive, blues, gospel,  contemporary Christian, dubstep, acoustic, bebop, chamber music, choir, folk, fusion, heavy metal, instrumental, marches, lounge lizard, techno, soundtracks, tv themes, jingles, bluegrass, honky-tonk, surfing music, harmony, modern, ragtime, swing, acapella, classical, pastorale, Motown, reggae, ska, art rock, grind core, hip-hop, barber-shop quartet, celtic, zydeco, pop, standards, world-beat, electronic, Gregorian Chants, nature tracks, ballads, soft-rock, symphony, marching band, and music from every decade from the roaring 20’s to the present.  

I can hear a few strains of a song from a pivotal time in my life and it is instant time-travel for me.  I’m taken back to the time, the feelings, the emotions, the smells, the sights, and the memories…...

"I got the Joy-Joy-Joy-Joy-Down in my heart!" or "Jesus Loves me" or "There was a Wise Old King" or "Father Abraham" takes me right back to a happy little Sunday school classroom with a flannel board and tiny short plastic chairs and tables low to the ground where the room smells like grape Kool-Aide and animal crackers and paste and crayons.  


Another music memory:  My first Kiss ever!  On the dance floor at Church of the Nativity during my 8^th grade dance during the Kenny Rogers song, “Lady” with my very first boyfriend, David.  It was dim, slightly smoky (from the fog-machine), and all together magical!!  His lips were so soft and my heart was beating so fast I thought it would jump out of my chest!  We had just won a dance contest (for dancing our hearts out and doing the splits during the song, “Celebration.”   It was in 1981 and I was in the 8^th grade.  If I hear that song now, I’m instantly taken back to that night and I’m swaying and swooning in that church gymnasium.   

Songs from the movie soundtrack “Top Gun” takes me back to my high school dating years……as does any song from “Fame” or “St Elmo’s Fire" or "Sixteen Candles"   Ditto for anything by the Police, Styx, REO Speedwagon, Journey, Steve Perry, Wham, Boy George and Duran-Duran. Basically, if I tune into any good 80’s radio station and I turn into a teenager again.

Any songs from Petra or Greg X Voltz takes me back to the very early days of my marriage and to the time when my daughter was born. We attended a Petra concert when I was about 8 months pregnant and then played their albums on repeat for the next year or so.  It was a magical, difficult, exciting time in my life.  Those memories are very sweet now. 

If I hear Lawrence Welk type music, I’m transported back to Saturday nights of my childhood……my grandparents enjoying watching “And-a-one-and-a-two….” And the same goes for Hee-Haw.  Tammy Wynette standing by her man, or Loretta Lynn being a Coal-Miners daughter makes me very nostalgic.  

Hearing the opening tune from the TV theme song for the Walton's almost makes me cry….remembering watching it with my Mamaw.   I still love watching the corny reruns of “The Love Boat” and even though I never watched the show, I even get a bit nostalgic  hearing the theme song from “Dallas” which was a big deal back in those days.   

I  wasn’t allowed to watch Sonny and Cher because my grandparents truly believed that youngsters shouldn’t be exposed to Cher because she didn’t wear decent clothes, showing way too much skin-which meant she was a fast-loose-woman of ill-repute.....but I longed to watch it like my friends did.  I wanted to sing "I got you Babe" too!    But I watched Donny and Marie Osmond.  Faithfully.  Every Friday night.  And to this very day, I’m still a little bit country and a little bit rock and roll!!!!

Wee-Sing Bible Songs or the "Goin Quackers" songs  take me back to long car rides with my kiddos in their car seats, smashing cheerios into the seat cushions and asking if we are "There Yet"

I have a few "trigger songs" that I just can't listen to any more because of painful emotional associations....."Red River Valley" and "Blue Eyes Cryin In the Rain" because of my Papaw and how he used to play them on his harmonica....."Amazing Grace my Chains are Gone" because my husband sang it at my sweet Mamaw's funeral and  "Lord I'm Coming Home" because it was one of her favorites and "I Can Only Imagine" because Steve sang it at his aunt's funeral.

I hate some songs just on principle.  I absolutely REFUSE to listen to "Christmas Shoes" and "Butterfly Kisses" for obvious reasons and after the untimely death of Stephen Curtis Chapman's little daughter, I can't her the song "Cinderella" or his song "Heaven is the Face" without ugly crying.

Some songs make me feel melancholy - "Summer Breeze" by Seals and Crofts  and "Longer" (and pretty much anything else)  by Dan Fogelberg. Landslide by Fleetwood Mac...Careless Whisper......Bridge over Troubled Water.....and it's not a sad feeling really.....just kind of mellow and reflective.

Some songs make me feel happy and energetic! "Let's Go Crazy" by Prince....."Walking on Sunshine" and Livin On a Prayer by JBJ......Bohemian Rhapsody.....Centerfold....Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go...….. and Don't Stop Believing…..Dancing Queen.....Born to be Wild....Hot-Hot-Hot!   I just have to dance when I hear these songs!

Some songs take me to a specific time or place in my memory - The original Hill Songs (Shout To the Lord or Revival in Belfast) whisk me away to North Carolina.....as does "Vitamin C"

Petra's "Beat the System" and Sandi Patti's "Morning Like This" and Leslie Phillips "Dancing with Danger" all transport me to my senior year of high school and my first car, that 1976 Camero with faded silver paint and a cassette player!

Music really is the soundtrack of our lives - it touches us and transports us and transforms us every day.

Friends....kindred spirits...

I have been itching to write something for a few weeks now.   I have all of these ideas bouncing around inside my noggin;  I get greatly inspired by a line in a book I'm reading, or something that someone says at work, or by something a patient of mine has done, or something my husband says............and then I come and sit quietly in front of my computer to get it all down in black and white....... and it's like my thoughts and words turned into the fluffy white feathers of a dandelion held tightly in my fist and although I tried to carefully carry it, a big wind came and blew the feathers away and all I'm left with is a giant, ugly, bald brain with only one or two straggler thoughts that aren't even coherent when put together.   And then I stare at the blank white word-canvas and think.....Huh.   I have absolutely NOTHING of any value to say.  And I walk away feeling let down and disappointed.

But this afternoon, I have been thinking and I ran up here to the computer to try to capture some of the thoughts before they elusively float away on the wind of consciousness...the wind blown by business, rush, and stress.

This evening, I am thinking about my friends.  And I have been blessed with some of the most PRECIOUS, most amazing friends you can imagine.

Some of my friends go waaaaaay back....to second grade......to elementary school.....to awkward times on the playground playing kickball and four-square and jump rope and Barbie Dolls.   You knew me when I had braids and freckles and buck-teeth like Laura Ingalls.  You were the ones who shared my obsession with Donny Osmond.  You were the ones who invited me to my first sleep-over party and even went to the bathroom with me because I was afraid to go by myself (after we ate birthday cake with Donny Osmond's face airbrushed on top!!)  It was your Mom who came to pick me up at the school and taught me how to use a sanitary pad and belt (those were the days, huh?) and took me home to change my clothes and celebrated my "womanhood" with me when I got my period for the first time and I thought I was dying (because I was so young and clueless and had no idea  THAT was going to happen to me!)  You are the ones who laughed with me on the playground while we enjoyed our candy-sticks that we bought from the school store with our saved dimes.   We watched "The Electric Company" together every morning and I can't even think of hearing "HEEEY YOU GUYYYYYS!"  without seeing each of your faces.

Some of you lived at Battlewood Apartments when I did, and you are the ones who know that the "Battle" part of Battlewood was the battle of making ends meet.   We lived in the projects....we got giant blocks of "Government Cheese" which tasted pretty much like Velveta and shame.  We were the kids who had to go through the "free lunch" line in the junior high cafeteria....in case anyone didn't already know we were poor.   We had those cold, institutional white tile floors that our moms tried to cover with area shag carpets and we got to wade through waist deep water every time we had a lot of rain because the entire complex would flood.

Some of you, I met in Junior High.  Ahhhh, those complex, troubling, awkward years of change, self-discovery, and self-awareness.  Back then, there were steep, concrete steps leading from the "horseshoe" in front of the school where the buses and cars picked up and dropped off students up to the front of the school.  I fell on those stupid steps at least twice in the two years I was there.....causing bruises, bleeding, and much bodily harm....but mostly humiliation. I wasn't the only one..those steps claimed plenty of victims.   Maybe that is why they tore them down.  Those steps were almost symbolic of my junior high years.....a nemesis, something to be conquered, but still something that would leave marks on me for the rest of my life.

Middle school saw My first school dance, my first boyfriend, my first kiss.......my (short-lived) foray into athletics as a member of the gymnastics team, the volleyball team, and as manager of the basketball team.   I tried out for cheerleading, which was a dismal fail that left me in tears for a week.  I wanted desperately to be in the band, but being in the band cost money....money we didn't have..... for instruments, lessons, and uniforms.  And I didn't have a ride to/from practice because I lived with my elderly grandparents by then, and they couldn't drive.  So I joined the Art Club and I joined the Newspaper and I joined Bible Club.....because they all met during school hours.  I had always been a straight-A student, so one day I was taken to a special class room and was given a battery of tests and was labeled "GIFTED" and got to go to a new class called "Independent Studies" that made me feel really smart.  Until I took Algebra my 8th grade year.....and got my first ever (cue the dramatic music.....) C.  I was devastated.   And grounded all summer.  I made some of my really solid, enduring friendships in junior high...and you all know who you are.

And some of you, I met in Highschool.  Oh. My. Gosh.  Highschool.   Pimples, popularity, pubescent hormones....... insecurities and exaggerated sense of the importance of every faux paux. Who am I?  What am I?  What am I going to be?  Going to Pizza Hut every Friday night after the football games, hanging out at Eastgate Mall, trying to dress like Madonna with lace gloves and lacy headbands and jean-jackets, acid-washed, high-waisted jeans.....having sleep overs where we made chocolate chip cookies and listened to record albums all night long, giggling and sharing secrets instead of sleeping.  Feeling so grown-up because we watched Saturday Night Live and laughed at Gilda Radner's jokes.  Getting our first jobs......getting our driver's licenses.....getting our hearts broken.   The dreaded "dressing out" in PE, the slamming of lockers in the hall, the confetti on PepRally day as the band played and the cheerleaders cheered and we all clapped.  Lunch periods spent in Mr. Leathers' science lab instead of the lunch room because in Mr. Leather's class, nerds were welcomed with open arms..it was a safe haven for me.   Field-trips to Quiz Bowl and Science Bowl, Math Club, and Toss-up and Future Problem Solving Bowl.......those were the BEST times!!  You haven't lived until you have spent 3 sleep-deprived, hillarious days living with a short bus full of highschool nerds.  The Big-Bang Theory cast had NOTHING on our little gang of intellectual misfits.  I always secretly wondered when they would figure out that I didn't really belong - I wasn't half as smart as the rest of the group (I didn't even take MATH my senior year, for goodness sakes!)...and I constantly lived in fear of being called out....but thankfully, it never happened.   We would play Mad Libs, make up songs, and we even created a fan club for one of our teachers.....I was a proud founding member of the Carolyn Towns Fan-Club.    High school faded into early adult hood with prom, class night, dating, senior play, and finally graduation...…..but friendships were forged that would last a lifetime.

I started nursing school, got married and had a baby - all in rapid succession the year after high school. It was so fast that my head was spinning. And then I graduated nursing school and had another baby and started my nursing career.  Through those early years of my marriage, I didn't have any really close friends outside of my marriage.  My husband was my best friend and that worked really well for me. Actually, he still IS my best friend. Even after all these years. I wasn't a hermit or anything.....I had some superficial friends at work and at school and at church.. folks we talked with, went out to dinner with and visited...but no BFF's that I could call in a time of crisis.  We had pleasant friends that we would see at events and at the kid's school meetings and church, but mostly it was just me and my man and kiddos against the world.

Since then, I've had the privilege of working with some really, really great friends.  Nursing attracts caring people to begin with and throughout the years I've gotten fairly close with many precious people.  We would spent hours and hours of drudgery interspersed with minutes of sheer terror in the name of nursing and "saving lives" and that tends to promote a closeness that other professions don't necessarily share.  We see patients at their most venerable and sensitive times- at times of diagnosis , at times of catastrophic illness....and times of life-changing accidents - and it tends to boil life down to what is important and lasting.  Most of the nurses I've worked with would walk through fire to help each other out.   I am so thankful for the front-row seat I've had to learn from some of the best of the best nurses out there.

Because nurses deal with some really heavy situations, we tend to find dark humor a very effective safety-valve to let off the steam that builds up over a 12 hour shift.  I can't tell you the number of things I've inappropriately laughed about when I wanted to cry instead....but laughing was more acceptable in the moment.  The laughter binds us together and helps us cope - and makes us stronger. So many, many memories of laughter and friends that I have laughed with over the years.  

I've met and loved so many friends at church!  God has a way of putting people in my path that encourage me, that lift me up, that inspire me.....friends who have bravely fought (and ultimately lost) the battle with cancer.  I'm thinking of at least 3 precious ladies who touched my life more than they ever knew as they faced their fears and their illness with grace and hope and strength and peace.  Their strength has been woven into the fabric of who I am just by knowing and loving them.  

I've had other friends who were friends for a season ….a time of Bible study, a time of retreat, of renewing our faith and growing together.   I've had other friends who were friends for a reason - they needed a babysitter or a sympathetic ear to just listen or sometimes even a shoulder to cry on. I've learned vicariously from their life lessons along the way and it has made me stronger and wiser.

Some of my friends were definitely given to me to challenge me and make me think.  Some of my friends come from different faiths, different ethnic backgrounds, different socioeconomic levels, different denominations, different cultures, different mores, different beliefs, different political views, different ages, different genders, different orientations, different experiences,  and out and out completely  different mindsets.  And that's GOOD!   I'm so thankful for our differences!  If we were all the same flavor - how boring that would be?!? I like to think of my life and friends like a calico quilt - the more colors and fabrics and textures that are woven in - the more beautiful and special and valuable the quilt becomes!

Funny how now - over half a century into my life - some of those very first friendships I ever forged are still some of the most important to me today.  We still keep in touch - still check in from time to time.  Still laugh and still cry together.  Still love and learn from each other.

I am so very, very thankful for the myriad of "quilt pieces" that make up the patchwork quilt of my life so far!  I have been blessed, so very blessed.

I"m a hoarder.

Pretty sure I'm a hoarder.  Not the kind like on TV who is buried underneath years and years of old news papers and old empty butter bowls...….well, at least not yet.

I read all the research on how clutter leads to and feeds anxiety. And I thought...hmmmm.   I sure do have a LOT of clutter, maybe THAT'S why I feel so anxious?  So I read up on how to cull through my belongings and make piles "Donate" "Keep" and "Trash" and how to look at and hold each object to see if it "brings me joy" and I read about which is the best charity to donate to and I read about the joys and benefits of recycling and I was IN.  I was ALL. IN.

So I opened my first cabinet to start culling.  I figured I'd just rip off the band-aid and dig right in -so I pulled everything out of that cabinet and stacked it all up on my counter top so that I could really see what was in there and objectively figure out how much of a "JOY" score to assign to each piece.

The first things I put back into the cabinet were those things that have significant sentimental attachment for me.  Things that remind me of a special person, a specials time, a special place or feeling.....taking the time to hold each object and remember the circumstances and memories associated with each one.....outright laughing at some of the memories, smiling at others....and shedding a few tears over a few as well.

Remembering each person involved- one item was a gift from a friend that captured her personality perfectly and it makes me smile and think of her every time I see it.  we were once bosom friends and very close - but we both moved to different states and time went by and we grew apart......but every time I remember her, my heart is warmed by our memories and I miss her.   Can't get rid of that.  It means too much. Back in the cabinet it goes!

Next item - OH!  We bought this on a fantastic trip!  I remember those sun-drenched golden afternoons and the way the air felt and the laughter and remember the thrill of  exploring a new place and seeing new things!  This item embodies the very essence of that amazing vacation!!  Gotta keep that.  Back in the cabinet it goes!

This next thing is OLD.  I'm talking - I had it when I was in junior-high old. It belonged to a different me....a me who was unsure of the future and yet hopeful that I could be whatever I wanted to be.  It belonged to the me who sang into hairbrushes and wooden spoons with all the grace and style a pre-teen can project!  It belonged to the me who was still becoming - who was still figuring out who I was.....the young, innocent me.  She's still in here somewhere, I'm pretty sure? Maybe?  I'd better keep this. We have such a history...maybe I'll just put it in the very back of the cabinet.

Next item - Heart melts.  It's from when the kids were little. Like, little bitty (they are both adults now and long flown from the nest);  holding this makes my tear up a little - remembering the tiny, fun little people they used to be...maybe even mourning a little for the mom I used to be; that part of me has been lost to the passing of time but sometimes I miss her.  I miss the kids too. I stand there holding my object thinking about those long days of tying shoes, cooking dinner, chasing down homework, stepping on Legos and Barbie Shoes.....remembering mostly the good parts, forgiving the not so good and wistfully wondering how so much time could pass in such a flash.   This thing isn't going anywhere except back in my cabinet!

The next item belonged to my Grandmother.  My precious, sweet Mamaw.  Her hands used to hold this just like mine are now.  OH to feel the warmth of those hands on my face again. If only I could  look into her eyes one more time and tell her how much I love her!! But I can't....and holding something she once held is as close as I can get.....so obviously I will never part with this.  It was hers and now it's mine.  It's precious....a link to her love.  And I'm keeping it. Forever.

The next thing?  Oh goodness!  I got this at my bridal shower!  When our love was new and shiny and scary and hopeful!  So hopeful!  We've used this through the years and it represents how far we've come. How much our love has grown since those early days of uncertainty and naivety. Our love was so exciting and thrilling then.....and it's so much deeper and richer now - but the memory of those days is the foundation for our life together  now - so there is no way I can get rid of this!! We've had it for > 30 years now!  It's a keeper.  Back into the cabinet.

This next thing?  Well, it's new - but so fancy!  So delicate!  So NICE.  I was so proud when I found it at such a good price and brought it home! It's pretty and it's useful - so I will keep it in the front of the cabinet so we can use it all the time.

And this one - it's sooo cute!  It makes me giggle.  It's funny and fun and whimsical.  And I need some whimsy in my life.  This is good for the gray and gloomy days when my heart is low and my mood needs a lift! This will make me feel sooo much happier. Maybe it needs to be up front too - surely it will fit on that shelf!

This next thing isn't so much new, or even very pretty - but it's very sturdy and very serviceable.  It works and gets the job done.  It's one of my go-tos because it's reliable. It's good.  It works. It would be extremely foolish to do away with something that useful.  Back in there it goes!

And so I continue - until every blasted thing is back in that dumb cabinet and my "donate" pile is nonexistent and my trash pile contains only an empty gum wrapper and a bent paperclip I found in the back of the cabinet (and even the gum wrapper has some sentimental value if I dig deep enough! but even I'm not that crazy) Haha!

So.  This is how it will end for me. I have seen the future and it's not pretty.   I will eventually be buried somewhere inside my house under a pile of sentimental and useful old stuff that I can't bear to part with.   But I will be happy with my sweet memories and silly stuff......so I'm keeping it all.  It all brings me JOY and makes me HAPPY.   Maybe it feeds my anxiety?? But the thought of parting with my most prized worldly possessions makes me more anxious - so I'll just deal with it. Hahaha!

Hello. My name is Amanda. I'm a hoarder.

My Growing up in Church Memories

I did one of those super-scientific quizzes on Facebook tonight….it was “How well do you know Hymns?”  Well, I got 100% and it proudly told me, “You were probably born a Southern Baptist!”  And they are almost correct.   It got me to thinking about growing up in church and how I came to be a believer and why I still believe today, some 40+ years later. 

I was toted to church by my Mom and Dad, who were both strong church attenders.  My dad was a deacon and usher and my Mom taught Sunday School and Vacation Bible School and we went to Home-Comings and singings and did all the good church things families did back in the late 1960’s and early 1970’s.   Some of my first lucid memories are of vacation Bible School and the beloved flannel-board characters that brought the Bible to life before my pre-school aged eyes!  Zacchaeus was a Wee-Little Man, Deep and Wide, The B-I-B-L-E, Jesus Loves Me, Jesus Loves The Little Children, This Little Light of Mine…….all of these dear songs were sung at full-volume with utter delight to anyone who would listen to me sing! 

My Dad left us when I was 6 years old and we kind of moved in with my Grandparents then and my mom stopped going to church because she was having to work 2 jobs to support her two kids with no assistance.   My Grandmother was a old school Baptist believer and, she rode the Senior Citizen’s Church bus to church every Sunday morning and I was brought along.   I loved going to church!  I loved the songs, the smell of the Sunday School rooms (I can close my eyes and remember that magical smell!  It smelled like paste, books, and grape popsicles!), and I loved singing in church!   I loved Vacation Bible School best of all!  I loved memorizing Bible Verses, learning sign language, learning how to macramé (hey, it was the 70’s and macramé was the craft-du-jour!)  I loved lining up and marching in to “Onward Christian Soldiers!”  and  I loved the puppets and the stories and songs! 

I did learn sign language in church.  My best friends at church were deaf and they taught me.  I also sang with the deaf and hearing choir….but they asked me to sign with the deaf kids instead of singing out loud.  That might have given me a complex, but I did sooo love using sign language to sing the songs.  It was so expressive and felt like a form of worship to me.  It still does….I catch myself signing along with songs all the time at church, even today.  I have forgotten most of the sign language I learned back then, but I still remember the good “churchy” words like God, Sin, Jesus, Heaven, Angel, Sing, Cross, and the like.   This was about the time when I really, truly had 2 ambitions in life.  One was to become a Solid Gold Dancer……OR the other was to become the little lady in the circle at the bottom of the screen on the Billy Graham Crusades on TV...the one interrupting all the sermons into sign language .   Sadly, neither ambition came to fruition.  Thank goodness.  

About the time I turned 11 or 12 years old, our Sunday School class started having “testimony time”….and I dreaded it sooo badly!   I was only a pre-teen and didn’t quite have a grasp on theology yet….but I  faithfully read my Bible, not wholly understanding everything, but still soaking it in.  I remember being particularly troubled by the verses that talked about “where there is much sin, grace abounds”  or something to that effect……and in my mind, it kind of meant that I needed to have some kind of sin that was worthy of being saved from……and I was deathly embarrassed because my sheltered life afforded little room for sinning.  My Mamaw saw to that.   I was embarrassed to get up and give my testimony that I was saved from “talking sassy to my Mamaw” or that I was saved from “staying up past my bedtime to read” or “being mean to my little sister” or  any one of the other multitude of boring sins that I had to ask forgiveness for.  I felt like……well, I felt like Jesus’ sacrifice was too much for my petty little sins…..that I needed to have bigger sins to be saved from…..and then I could lead others to Jesus!   But……the question was……how to go about sinning some BIG sins???   Well, I knew I’d never have the opportunity to do anything that bad without getting caught (and I really WAS an obedient child and breaking the rules was not something I did on purpose usually)…..so I came up with a compromise….I wouldn’t actually commit BIG SINS…..but I would make up a testimony about big sins…..and I would share that testimony in Sunday School and people would come from miles around to be saved because they would know that God had saved me from BIG and BAD things….and He could forgive them too!   Oh, I had it all worked out…I wasn't going to just be the lady in the little circle for sign language on YV...I  going to be a young-teenaged-girl version of Billy Graham himself!   People would hear my testimony and weep and walk the aisles just begging to repent!  So I had to make it good.

I made it good alright.   When it came my turn to give my testimony….I stood up, swished my Laura Ingalls braids behind my back and just went for it!   I started out telling about how I had sold myself into prostitution to pay for my Heroin addiction… about how I was homeless and hungry and stole food from the grocery store because I was too poor to buy food.  I laid it on thick!!  (As thick as an 11 year old with very limited understanding of what Heroin actually was could lay it on!)  But then, with tears streaming down my earnest, freckled face….I shared how I had been saved!  SAVED!!  From such a horrible life and now I don’t do drugs any more and I go to school like a normal kid and eat food that we buy at the grocery store!   I didn’t get the reaction I thought I would.  The kids just stared at me and it likely confirmed the fact that I was really weird…..and honestly, I don’t even remember what my teacher said at the time.   Thinking back, it dawns on me that it should have occurred to me that my Sunday School teacher’s mother lived RIGHT NEXT DOOR to my Mamaw and she had known me my whole life and watched me grow up….so she knew that NONE of my “testimony” was true.  Hahahaha!!  Oh, how I wish I could go back and ask her what on earth she thought of my testimony back then!!  Hahahahaha!!  Goodness!  I now understand that making up a testimony is not the way to go....and that telling lies is indeed a BIG sin.  Since then,   I have had plenty of sin to be saved from…..and thankfully none of it had to do with prostitution or heroin or stealing groceries. 

I loved going to the Golden Agers dinners…and I went to all of them......let me tell you this…..Church Ladies KNOW how to cook a casserole!!  Nobody dared bring in a store-bought cake or cookies.  No ma’am!  There was banana pudding!  REAL banana pudding – not made with some box of mix.   Real cakes, real pies, real food!   And plenty of it!  Being the only child in a group of about 40 senior citizens was pretty sweet!  And I was quiet and well-behaved….so I was like their pet or mascot of the group.   After every meal, they would have “the sangin”  (singing for those not from the south) and there would be a whole afternoon of good old Gospel songs…..some fast and snappy, some slow and mournful….but all wonderful and rich with the Good News!   There would be groups sometimes….in the style of the Gaither Home Coming…..and there would be special singers who would do solos.   I loved them all.  

Once I became a teenager, I moved on to a different church and became even more involved in church life.  Church played a Huge part of my teenaged years.  Looking back, I can see that I was struggling with depression even back then…..but church was my safe place…it was indeed my refuge.  By the time I was about 16, I started teaching Sunday School classes and GA’s (Girls in Action – a missions group for young Baptist girls) and I sang in the choir and I played piano a little bit (but was never really good enough to play in Sunday Morning services….I was a work-in-progress!hahaha!)  We put on Christmas Plays, Easter Pageants, Cantatas and so forth….oh how I loved, loved, LOVED those times!  

I was introduced to contemporary Christian Music by my friend, Cheryl when I was a junior in high school and we went to a Petra Concert and Leslie Phillips was the opening act.   And my eyes were opened to Christian music with a BEAT!!!  Oh what joy!  To quote a favorite group of mine, “Why Should the Devil Get All The Good Music?”  Why indeed??  I started listening to Leslie Phillips, Amy Grant, Michael W Smith, Dallas Holm, Petra, Twila Paris, The Imperials......and just fell in LOVE with Christian music.  To this day, it’s all that plays in my car.  I need the positive focus and positive energy!  Every now and then, I will go back and play those old albums from the early 80’s and it takes me right back to my teenage years!   

I do love Contemporary Christian music;  I love old Gospel music;  I love Praise and Worship music…..but there will always be a soft-spot in my heart for those poetic old hymnal songs….sung from a dusty hymnbook with a heart full of joy.  And I’m not making ANY of that testimony up! J

Hurricane Irma

Hurricanes are hard work.

We started preparing for Hurricane Irma on the Sunday, the day before Labor Day.   We filled both cars with gas because we heard that the price of gas was going up due to Hurricane Harvey out in Texas.   We were so uneasy, watching the footage of the damage and flooding and heartbreak of Houston after Hurricane Harvey.   We didn't quite believe that Irma was going to make a visit to us on the west coast of Florida...most of the spaghetti models showed her heading due east towards Miami and up the Eastern coast.  But we were still uneasy.

By Tuesday, the models were all over the place, and some showed Irma wobbling westward, so we began to prepare in earnest.   Steve went online and ordered a generator, camp led lanterns, and filled our giant water containers with clean water for drinking.  Well, the storm was brewing and generators and camp lanterns were hard to come by, so sadly, they would not arrive until after Irma.   It  was becoming pretty certain that Irma was still a Cat 5 and even if she only hit Miami and the Eastern coast, she was wider than the state of Florida, so we would still have some hurricane force winds to contend with.  So I got up very early Tuesday morning and went to Walmart before sun-up and stocked up on non-perishable food items.....tuna pouches, pouches of Swenson Chicken Breast, tins of Spam, Cans of Chili, peanut butter, soda crackers.....stuff like that.

Wednesday evening, I made a trip to the Dollar General store to purchase instant coffee and see if I could find a loaf of bread.  Nary a slice of bread nor a bottle of water could be found for purchase in all of Florida.   I did manage to find some "Fried Green Tomato" potato chips that I bought for Steve, but he didn't like them.  They were merely "okay" but didn't taste like fried green tomatoes in any kind of way.

By Thursday, our Hurricane Disaster Plan was in full-force.   Work became a chaotic zoo....trying to track our 78 or so patients and make sure that each and every one had water, medications, a safe place to shelter, and a plan for post-storm electricity-outages for the oxygen and ventilator patients who would require generators to maintain safely.   We made copies of every patient's medication profiles and copies of their plans of care.....along with hurricane safety instructions and lists of shelters and we sent out clinicians in every direction to deliver a hurricane folder to each patient.  We manned the phones from the time we got to work until the time we left......calling and confirming the plans of each patient so we can find them if the worst of the storm does indeed hit our area.  Being responsible for 78 patients and 20 or so staff members' safety is a heavy burden.   We tried to think of every possible worst-case scenario and tried to come up with a contingency plan for each "what-if."   It was completely exhausting.

By Friday, the threat was eminent.....we had 2 more days to batten down the hatches and the whole state took on a very strange atmosphere.   Some of our clinicians had already evacuated, so I was out seeing patients in addition to my work in my office.  The day was gloriously sunny, the sky was achingly cerulean blue with fluffy white clouds...the waters in the gulf and the bay were sparkling like millions of gleaming diamonds.   We had a good gale sea breeze, but there was no other indication that a beast of a hurricane was headed our way.   Except all the gas stations were completely out of gas.....all the tanks covered and closed.   Many restaurants and stores boarded up early and closed shop so their employees could evacuate and escape.    I made a quick stop at Walgreens for some medicine and some snacks and the lines were long.   Sure, folks had already bought up all the bottled water, but people were buying up the ALCOHOL like crazy!!!

I stood in line behind a little lady who had at least 20 bottles of cheap wine in her shopping cart.....along with an assortment of chips and cookies and other junk foods.  She said, "Girl!  I'm ready for the apocalypse!  I won't care what happens outside with all this wine!"   And the air in the store was expectant and everyone was chatty and friendly with each other......offering advice and offering to help carry things, let folks with less items in front of them.....it was almost festive....like on Christmas Eve!  I fully expected Tiny Tim to jump out and yell, "God Bless us, Everyone!"  But that didn't happen.   My friend DID overhear a near 80 year old man, standing in line to check-out at Publix.....he had a giant box of condoms and a couple bottles of wine and he announced (rather proudly) "I'm ready for the hurricane!  I got my wine, my rubbers, and my weed! What more does a man possibly need?"    Indeed.   That's Florida for ya.

By Friday evening, we had our patients tucked in as well as we could manage and we had plans in place for everyone.   I hurried home after a 10+ hour work-day, now able to turn my focus on getting my OWN home prepared for the storm.   As I pulled in the driveway to my house, I saw Steve, already up on the ladder, fastening the first of the Kevlar coverings over the bottom windows of our house. My husband is honestly the hardest working man I know...he had also worked an entire work-day before coming home to tackle the physical labor at our house.   He took a quick break so that we could go have some Friday night dinner.....but the only place we could find that was open was Tijuana Flats, which didn't hurt my feelings one little bit!  Fully of lovely Mexican food, we came home and decided to get up early and finish our preparations in the morning, as we had until Sunday to get all buttoned up and we were both exhausted from our chaotic work weeks.

We watched as much as we could stomach of the news.......and I must say that there are a few phrases that have worn thin over the last week.   I could go a very long, long time without ever hearing such terrifying poetic rhetoric as "Spaghetti Model" ....."Eye-Wall"......  "Cat 5".....  "Total Devastation"...."Irma" ....."Wind Sheer"..."Staring down the Barrel"......"Shelter in place" .... "Storm Surge"....."Costal Flooding" ..... "Hurricane Party"..... "Wipe off the map" .... "Batten Down the Hatches"...and my all-time unfavorite:   "HUNKER DOWN."   ugh.   Just no more of this.  My psyche can't take it.  I had hurricane-fatigue by Friday night and the storm was still 48 hours out.

We got up at the Tramp-Stamp of Dawn on Saturday morning (which is a term my son coined to mean just a wee-bit earlier than the proverbial "Butt-Crack of Dawn") and I made a huge and hearty breakfast for Steve and a giant pot of steaming, magical coffee for me.   We knew the day was not going to be a fun, relaxing weekend day.  Steve was up and down the ladder all day.....hanging the Kevlar window coverings.  From about 7am until about 10pm, we toiled. We sweated. We worried. We planned.   My duties consisted of making baggies of water to put in the freezer that we could use to keep our food cold in the coolers for when we lost power, emptying the ice trays every time they were set with ice (for the same reason), preparing and baking foods we could eat during the power outage (such as muffins, brownies, etc...), brewing a big gallon jug of coffee so I could at least have cold coffee and not turn into a raging caffeine-deprived werewolf during the power-outage.....helping with the window coverings (okay-mostly holding the ladder and passing tools up to Steve, but I did fasten a few of the ones I could reach from the ground)...and last, but certainly not least....carrying every single item from our lanai into the house for safe-keeping during the expected high winds.   Every pot of flowers, herbs, lime tree, fern.......every chair, table, lounger.....every pool item, every grill implement.....it was like a giant lanai clearance sale:  EVERYTHING MUST GO!!!  My living room and dining room looked like a jungle and someone said that all the extra lanai chairs in my dining room looked like I was ready for a baby shower!    haha!   I also cleaned out our kitchen pantry and made a "safe-place" in case the storm got REALLY bad....swept and Pine-Sol mopped the closet and put down cushions and quilts so we could be as comfortable as possible if we had to be in there for hours on end.   I washed every stitch of clothing, towels, and linens we had.....because we had no idea how long we might be without power and we would need to have clean clothes to wear.    It was a race against the clock to get it all done.  By about 10pm, we still had a few things left to do.....but the storm wasn't supposed to hit until Sunday night....so we figured we had a few hours the next day to finish up.  Church for Sunday morning was cancelled.   Half the congregation was evacuated to other states...the other half were crazy like us....getting everything as ready as we could.

Sunday morning dawned pearl-gray with gusting winds and misting rain...but it was still hot as blazes and the humidity (and barometric pressure) were unrelenting.   The first of the dreaded "outter bands" of Irma were sweeping over. The news was grim.  Irma was still a Cat 5 and she was headed for a direct West-Coast of Florida hit.  We were under the gun.  This was NOT a drill.   

We finished up the window coverings......grilled what foods we could to clear the freezer, for we had no idea how long our power would be out....and in the evening, we spent some much needed time resting.   With the rest of humanity blocked out by the Kevlar window coverings....our world became tiny and cozy. The winds picked up and the rains got harder....but inside our little cocoon, we were safe, snug, and content.   We grilled our supper and then Steve closed the last of the sliding glass doors with the Kevlar.  It was official.  We were bolted into our house with Kevlar over every opening save the Garage doors....but they are heavy-duty hurricane doors.  They would be the only way out of our house until we unbolted the Kevlar.  And then.....we waited.  

We were a little anxious, not knowing what to expect, but we were never panicked or overly anxious.  We had prepared as best we could and felt fairly safe.  We had a plan if the storm got really bad, we would crawl into the back of the pantry.  We weren't in any flood zones and our  house is only 6 years old and was built to very exacting hurricane mitigation standards.

So, we waited.   We watched some TV.....although reception was spotty because we don't have cable, we have an antennae and reception is iffy on a sunny day....and we even managed to watch a couple of episodes of "Call The Midwife" on Netflix before the power went out.  We shared a bottle of wine and a giant bowl of popcorn and we snuggled up on the couch and the rains came down.  Around 10pm, the storm made landfall as a Cat 3 about 3 hours south of us.   The worst was expected for us around 2am.   The winds picked up steadily throughout the night and right before midnight, we lost power.   We lit our flashlights and candles and made our way upstairs.  We felt safe enough to sleep upstairs in our bed.....and after the wine and the food.....we actually had no trouble falling asleep.  We woke up several times during the night to hear the wind howling and howling and the rain beating against the Kevlar.....but nothing seemed amiss.  We awakened about 5am and quickly got dressed.  We waiting for daylight so we could see and then we opened the garage doors and stepped out to survey the damage.

To our (very happy) surprise, our bird-cage over the pool and lanai withstood the winds and we had zero structural damage to our house.  My truck didn't fit into the garage...but it sustained no damage what so ever.  We had 3 trees down in our yard (a small live-oak and 2 oleander trees) and our landscaping flowers/plants took a good beating.....but most everything else was still standing!  We were amazed at God's provision and His sheltering hand over us!!  The power was still out...so we transferred all perishable food items from the fridge and freezer to our coolers (we had them washed and at the ready beside the fridge for just such an exercise) and packed everything in with the giant baggies of frozen solid ice.  Steve started removing the Kevlar from the windows and doors because without power, it was stifling hot in the house and the Kevlar blocked all of the breezes.  There was a steady, cooling breeze blowing all day....but to take advantage of it, we had to get those window coverings off.  We worked all day Monday, taking down the coverings and I took everything back OUT to the lanai that had been stored in the living room and dining room....all the plants, the furniture, the chairs, the gardening tools, sundial, lemon tree...cushions....everything.  It was another unbearably hot and sweaty work-day.   The pool was overflowing with about 6-8 additional inches of water....and the water was ice-cold....but after working like a mad-woman all afternoon, we got into the icy water and it felt heavenly and refreshing!!!  Never had I appreciated jumping in cold water more!!

After we were finally cooled down and all the windows were open, we were able to sit out on the lanai under the shelter and enjoy the breezes.  We still couldn't leave the house (nothing was open anyway......there were downed power lines everywhere...no one in the whole county had power).....so there was still   an almost magical sense of being locked away from the world!   Just the two of us (and Sophie, of course) and we sat together quietly and read, we talked, we laughed....and just thoroughly enjoyed being together without distractions of TV or homework or work or anything.  If only we could bottle that magical essence (without the power outage and all the sweaty, back-breaking work part)!   We felt extremely blessed, we were able to use our phones to access the internet and let family and friends know we were safe and we got the stunning news that Irma had lost a lot of steam, was only a Cat 1 when she came through our area and at the last minute, took a jig eastward to safe us from the worst of the destruction!!  Talk about feeling humbled and so very, very thankful!!  It could have been so much worse.  The pictures of the damage in the Florida Keys were heart-breaking.  We are soooo very blessed.

It took more than a week to find all of our evacuated patients.  But our lives were quickly back into our usual routines.  My heart aches for the folks less fortunate than us....and I am praying for them daily.

10 Things My Momma Done Taught Me (Relfections on Mother's Day)

With Mother's Day rapidly approaching I have been thinking about my Momma quite a bit.  I think about her often anyways....actually, we are blessed to pretty much talk on the phone every day.  All throughout the day, when things happen, or I see something I know she would like or appreciate.......Or I hear a funny joke or do something crazy that I know will make her laugh....I file it away to tell her that evening on the phone.  Tonight, I got to thinking about all the things my Momma has taught me over the years and thought I'd try to make a list.  Here goes! 

1.  My Momma taught me to ignore stupid people and not own their stupid crap.  

When I was younger and kids were picking on me or laughing at me (I know it's hard to believe because I'm so cool now, but I used to be a very nerdy, awkward, and socially inept kid;  shocking, right???).....my Momma taught me that these kids were stupid and not worth my time. She said they teased me because they were jealous of me (on account of how wonderful I was, see?).  So she taught me to literally or mentally just "Give 'em the HAY!  And don't take it back!"  Now that sounds a bit weird- but basically here's how it works:  You'd point your finger at that person accusingly and (in a long, drawn out 50 syllable manner that only a Southern Lady could pull off easily) say, "Haaaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyyy!!!!"   And then you walked off.  And you don't take it back.  That conclusively  marked that person's poor opinion of me as inconsequential and their teasing as ineffective.  And as you walked off, you would mention (rather loftily and snootily while looking up in the distance), "I do believe I see a buzzard!"    Done. Deal. Diss. Burn....For the WIN. 

2.  My Momma taught me to work hard. 

My Momma is the hardest working woman I've ever met.  For most of my childhood, she was both Mother and Father to two bratty girls.....and she often held down at least 2 jobs at a time....working 80+ hours a week in carpet mills (which is hard, back-breaking work by the way) ....just to make ends meet and keep us in clothes and food and housing.  She is 70 years old now and still works more than 40 hours a week most weeks....on her feet, climbing up and down ladders to get shoes for people to try on.   She still works circles around everyone else....always has.  You can't keep her still for a minute.  We always laugh because before you finish your dinner, she is already washing your plate.  She is a power-house and gives everything she does her best effort.  A real-life Energizer Bunny.   She gives 150% and makes it look easy.   She is amazing.  I have learned a lot by watching her work throughout the years.

3.  My Momma taught me to respect others.

To this day, if you are even 1 day older than me or if I am in a role where I am serving you, no matter what age you are........I will call you Ma'am or Sir.   I was raised to do it and I will say it with respect and I can't NOT say it.  I will say please and thank you.  I will hold the door open for you.  If you drop something, I will pick it up for you.  If you need a seat, I will stand up.  If you come to visit me, I will offer you a beverage or something to eat.    If you sneeze, I will bless you. It's not optional.   If I pour us both drinks, I will pour yours first.  My Momma taught me how to be respectful of people...especially my elders.  She taught me The Golden Rule, "Treat others how you want to be treated yourself."  Be friendly and always say hello to everybody, no matter who they are....and do it even if they are mean they are back...because as long as I'm nice, I've done my part.  And the 'Yes Sir' and 'No Sir' and 'Yes Ma'am' and 'No Ma'am' stuff???  That  is also not optional.  If my momma ever heard me say, "Yep"  or "Yeah" or "Whatever" to an older person.....she would gasp in horror and remind me that she taught me better than that.  And she did.  Yes ma'am, She did!! 

4.  My Momma taught me to be a strong woman.

I have seen my Momma be stronger than any woman should have to be.  I've seen her hurt and I've seen her cry.......but every time, after that good cry, I've seen her dry her tears, pick herself up and dust her self off ......and solve her own problems and then (as she would say) "Go on about her Rat-Killin'!"  She is a strong, strong woman.  And an excellent role model. 

5.  My Momma taught me to pray.

From the time I was a little bitty girl, I remember Momma teaching me to pray.  From the first mealtime blessing prayers of "God is Great, God is Good, Let us Thank Him For our Food"  to the every night before bedtime prayer staple of  "Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep...."  followed by praying for every member of our family and all our friends, neighbors, classmates, and even pets.    Even now, at least a couple of times a week, she tells me that she is praying for me, my kids, my husband.......and it means the world to me.   I'm convinced that the fervent prayers of many praying Mommas is what keeps most of us out of life's ditches everyday.  

6.  My Momma taught me to laugh.

When we are together....or even on the phone....we laugh.  And we laugh.  And we laugh. And then, we laugh some more.   If anybody ever got a wild hair and thought to listen in on any of our conversations, they'd haul us all over to Moccasin Bend Mental Hospital and throw away the keys!!!  We laugh until we cry some times.  Sometimes we start out crying, but then somebody will mention about that time a grasshopper got up Mamaw's dress caused her to dance a fancy jig out in the washroom......or that time when Papaw lost his britches and yelled, "Dad-Gum, Bea!" in the truck-stop parking lot...........and then we are all laughing again.   We can barely go out together in public without making a spectacle of ourselves.....for example,  Mom took us to Red Food Store to get something and she was writing a check and I looked over at the check suspiciously and then looked at the cashier and then looked at my Mom and said, "Momma, who on earth is Mary Doss and where did you get those checks? (Then, giving her the stink-eye I stage-whispered), "MOMMA!!!  Did you steal them checks?"   That poor cashier....the look on her face!!! She didn't know what to think......it was HILLARIOUS!!  And we laughed all the way home. Laughed until we snorted.  There ain't much hurt that laughter won't heal.  We always get into some meanness along the way.  We always make sure to laugh.

7.  My Momma taught me generosity.

If there are 5 hungry people and only 4 pieces of chicken, my Momma is the one who will declare that she really isn't hungry.  If you are cold, she will give you her own coat.  If she cuts the piece of cake into two pieces to share, she will always take the smaller piece. When I was little, I remember her telling me, "The More you share, the more you will get."  She always thinks of others and puts them ahead of her own comfort.  She has a big, kind, giving heart.  Nobody is going to go hungry when she is around, that's for sure.

8.  My Momma taught me how to cook.

When I was a little gal, Mom would sit on the couch and yell out things for me to add to a recipe.  We'd start with a big bowl.  We'd add butter, sugar, eggs, and flour.  Then random stuff.....chocolate chips, nutmeg, oatmeal, raisins, cinnamon, and nuts.....the kitchen sink!!  And I'd add stuff in and mix it all up and we'd bake all sorts of stuff. She trusted me to put in whatever it was and usually it turned out delicious!   She taught me how to bake cookies, cakes, pies, banana pudding, cornbread.......my Momma is a GOOD cook!  Nobody can make potato salad like my Momma.  Hers is magic.  Pure magic.  Like...."angels blessed it and it will change your life" magic.  Every time I go home, we end up cooking up a storm!  And it's so much fun!! 

9.  My Momma taught me that "Pretty Is As Pretty Does." 

Momma taught me that beauty is more than skin deep......but she also taught me to always use moisturizer and always fix my hair (my mom will not go outside without her hair fixed!! And nobody is allowed to mess up her hair!! ).    But seriously - She taught me that "Pretty is as pretty does" and that any pretty girl who acts ugly isn't  really pretty anyways.   You can't just talk the talk -- you gotta walk the walk.  And you ain't going to be pretty even if you primp and get all painted up and dressed up in Sunday-go-to-meetin clothes....if you are talking ugly and acting ugly......then you ain't nothing but ugly.  

10.  My Momma taught me about LOVE.

If I talk to my Momma 25 times in one day.....I can guarantee you that she will tell me that she loves me no less than 25 times that day.  Every time we talk.  Every time. Even if I'm not being nice.  Even if she gets mad at me.  She still tells me that she loves me.   I know that I am loved.  I have always known that My Momma loves me.  What a precious, lovely gift!!!  Deep down, that's all that any of us want:  to be loved.   My Momma loves me.  No doubt.


My Momma taught me way more than just 10 things.....but you get the idea.  She is one AMAZING woman.   Happy Mother's Day, Momma!!  I love you!! <3 <3 <3

Palm Sunday...memories of my own trip down the Mount of Olives into Jerusalem

This year, we made a pilgrimage, a trip of a lifetime the Holy Land, Israel.   That trip has completely changed my life and the way I read my Bible and the way I relate to the beloved Bible Stories that I've heard all my life.   Today is Palm Sunday and I well remember a couple of months ago, standing on the Mount of Olives, overlooking the city of Jerusalem on near to the same exact spot where Jesus stood that day as he looked out over his beloved city and wept.   I remember the cooling breeze on my face, the sounds of the city below, the birds chirping in the nearby trees......and I remember the overwhelming sense of history and awe that I felt, standing in the same area that He stood so many, many years ago.
                           
View from the top of the Mount of Olives, The Old City of Jerusalem, across the Kidron Valley


We started out at the top of the Mountain, with a magnificent view of the old city sprawling out below us, just beyond the Kidron Valley. The sides of the Mount of Olives and the sides of the Temple Mount are now covered in cemeteries.  The Jews on the Mount of Olives, and the Muslims on the side of the Temple Mount, in front of the sealed-off Beautiful Gates of the Triumphant Entry (also called the Golden Gates). The gates are bricked up and sealed tight for hundreds of years now, and guarded by the dead Muslims graves because they feared that the Messiah would return as promised and would enter through those gates as prophesied, and they didn't want that happening.  Pretty drastic measures, don't you think?  As if a few bricks and mortar and graves could stop the power of our God! 
   

The Beautiful Gates (site of the Triumphant Entry), all sealed and bricked up

We stood there, taking in the scenery and we were approached by a man with a donkey who kept harassing us to "Take a Ride on his Jesus-Taxi" for only $5.    No one took him up on it.....I, for one, couldn't imagine riding down the narrow, steep roads on a donkey as a lark....almost as if poking fun of the way Jesus rode into the city on that day.   I did like seeing the donkey.....and it did bring the story to life for me, as I could only imagine more clearly the donkey he road that day.

Donkey on the Mount of Olives

I have read and heard preached why Jesus came into the city on a donkey.  A donkey is a docile, peaceful animal.  If he had come in on a horse (as he will in the End Times) it would have been a signal of war.  Horses were ridden into war.  Donkeys were beasts of burden, for peaceful times. And he rode the colt of a donkey. People laid their cloaks over the donkey and in the road in front of the donkey and the threw palm fronds down to cover the dusty road in front of him as if welcoming their King.  They lined the narrow streets, waving palm fronds and chanting "Blessed is He who comes in the name of THE LORD! Hosanna, Hosanna!"  Do we stand among the crowd?  Our hearts thrilling to see our King riding by.....tears of joy streaming down our faces as we bow and throw our clothing down to cover the dirty road and as we sing out praise with all our hearts?  Remember that these same adoring crowds on Palm Sunday are some of the same people who cried out just as passionately "Crucify Him!" but a week later.  Oh, yes.  Sadly, we are among the crowd.

The passage down the mount is steep and narrow

Can you imagine how Jesus felt?  He was receiving praise and adulation of the crowds, but He also knew what was coming.  He knew what would happen and he knew the hearts and minds of the people calling out to Him so joyously that day.  I can only imagine Him looking down into the faces of each person, making eye contact and feeling the pain of their inevitable betrayal even then. About half way down the Mount of Olives, we stopped at the place where it is said that Jesus stopped, to look over his beloved city and there, he wept for Jerusalem.  He knew the pain and desolation coming to them.  He knew they would refuse to believe and repent.  He knew they would pay a terrible and horrendous consequence for their unbelief.  And it broke his heart.  This was his creation, his masterpiece. His Holy City.  His people, his children.  His creation.  And they refused to know who he really was.   He said that he longed to gather them under his wings like a Mother Hen would gather her chicks to protect them.  This reminds me of how God hid Moses in the Cleft of the Rock and covered him with His hand to protect him.  Oh, the provision of God for us! 

 Mosaic inside the Church, built where Jesus stood to overlook the city and where he Wept.

                       The passage of scripture describing the events that took place at this spot.

I remember sitting there on the side of that mountain in the coolness of that January morning, just in silent prayer and thinking about the fact that Jesus walked these hills and valleys.  This was his home.  This is where so much of Bible History took place and the fact that I too was allowed to stand there and see these things come to life before my very eyes......it was very humbling.  As I head into this Holy Week, I do so with a mindfulness that I haven't had before.  The stories in the Bible aren't just dusty tales of another time to me now.   They are living, breathing stories with a place in time and space and having walked in the land myself, they are more than cloth pictures on the flannel boards of my Sunday School memories.  What a precious gift!!  Hosanna! Hosanna!!  Blessed is He who comes in the name of THE LORD!

                 Looking up at the Beautiful Gates, now blocked off by bricks and a Muslim Graveyard

                                Looking out over the City of David from the Mount of Olives