We are told that we are the hands and feet of Jesus. That we are also all a part of one body of Christ. These are familiar sayings in most of the denominations that I have been part of in my church journey over so many moves and forty plus years. I always had questions that placed literal biblical interpretations directly up against figurative ones in scenarios like this.

I particularly remember one small charismatic church I joined in my first move after I gave my life to Jesus. It was different than any church I had ever been in and they often had lively services on summer evenings on the grass behind the old barn that housed the church in upstate New York, and young women would dance happily during the worship music. It was fun to see such an open expression of joy and hand raising in praise as we worshiped the Lord together. There were a number of changes in my life during that time period, which actually deepened my faith and my personal relationship with God rather than tested it, but when I was led to leave the church and move my family to Florida, I was met with suspicion. No one left the church easily, it seemed, and there was a lot of submission to the elders’ judgement in terms of personal decision making. I never left my autonomy behind, knowing full well God had been with me when I came there as a single mom and He would be with me when I left as a single mom, so I wasn’t a bit worried that they didn’t agree with my decision.

I did dare to question the elders however, as to the whole family of God thing or more explicitly, the body of Christ expression, because I wondered if there happened to be only one nose, say, and that nose smelled fire and tried to tell everyone else; but the others didn’t see fire, feel fire, or smell fire and so they just told the nose there was no fire. When I tried to tell them some things I felt God had prompted me to share with them, their response was basically “God didn’t say that.” So I went on my way, taking my faith and my children with me. I always felt if we each as a Christian had a piece of a puzzle of a body, and I happened to have the nose but I didn’t put my puzzle piece on the table with the other pieces, it wouldn’t reveal a complete face or a finished body. How do we know which piece anyone has been given until they share it, and yet a refusal to share one’s piece makes the whole face or body incomplete, doesn’t it?

Years later although that church didn’t burn to the ground, it basically folded, for many of the reasons I had tried to share earlier with those in authority. I felt badly that they had not been more open to a conversation with the whole church body they shepherded about things that really mattered, to them and to God. They were certainly not expecting someone relatively new to their church, and that person also a woman, to bring something to their minds they hadn’t considered could possibly be a word from God. The Bible is full of examples of God speaking through many, even an animal, who did not fit the criteria of the day that those in high religious authority required in order to ‘hear’ God. I have always loved all those stories, especially where God totally surprises everyone!

I saved this as a draft over fourteen years ago. I had someone ask me this question the other day. I have been back on the East Coast since 2018. It is now 2025. I share the rest of this original draft mostly as a reminder to myself that unless we change something, some things don’t change. I still do not have the discipline of a writer, but perhaps I am realizing my heart leans that way and I am enjoying it more, now that there seems to be so much less sand in the hourglass.

from notes, 2013:

The past year and a half since my move from East coast to West have been full of new adventures with God. I see Him everywhere in my life and the things I see are often like parables and seem to matter to people when I share them, particularly those who know Him well.

Yet I go from one day to the next, many of them with time to sit down with a computer or a pen but I have not done that. I did do it when I was struggling to make sense of my life, to see the next step ahead of me, wondering how to provide for myself, or at least I did when I thought I was struggling….and therein lies the difference. I am not struggling now, even though I continue to seek His guidance every day, many times a day, for the same reasons I did before. The difference now is that I am confident He has the answer for me and that He will present it at the appointed time: His time, not necessarily mine. And I know that it is good, in fact, perfect that way.

I must begin to write these things down, because they are becoming too many for me to hold in my head and recount to those who seem to want to know. When  I am questioned by someone about the meaning of something in daily life, these stories all spill out of me. I am often asked why I don’t write them down and I have no answer. I do not want to get to see my Maker and have no answer. I must look at my time differently and expect more of myself. I believe that He may be expecting more of me, and I don’t want to let Him down. The people He has put in my path are daily miracles, full of wisdom and insight and the power of His love and our prayers in this life. It is a rich and wonderful story that needs to be told, even by someone who thinks she is but a grain of sand. It is not for me to ask why, but just to do my part. This is my portion.

This was quite possibly one of the biggest lessons I’ve ever learned in my life. I only learned it after years of hurting myself and my son by holding onto betrayal and believing I was somehow owed some sort of apology. I had a husband who fell in love with my best friend and neglected to deal with it until we had a son and had purchased a new home. I gave them both the benefit of the doubt, even when my own mother suspected them, continuing for some time believing they could never possibly do that to me.

I was wrong. They could and they did. When I finally found out it became a soul crushing betrayal by two people I thought cared deeply about me. It was difficult for me to recover and continue in relationship with them, yet I had to because we shared a 1 year old son when he left. She left her husband a year later and they were married for over 25 years before she died much too young of cancer. We continued with a polite but empty communication style for years, often snagging when my son spent vacation time there.

Fortunately, long before we lost her and while our son was still in college, I had an amazing conversation with God that changed everything. I was crying out to him that they were causing great emotional harm to my son and therefore to me. Everything seemed a horrible triangle, with my ex blaming me to her and her to me, for anything that had to do with the financial support of our son. It was always difficult to get to the truth of anything. In the very old days I might have trusted my friend over a cheating ex husband. But this was the friend he had cheated with. An absurd mess that I didn’t want my son in the middle of, ever. He loved all of us, and did not want to choose sides. Nor should he have to. We were supposed to be the grown ups. I cried my heart out to God and asked Him to please intercede on our behalf. What I heard back in the silence was ” are you willing to forgive them?”

Nope. That was easy. I was not willing. Yet, as I sat with the pain of my son caught in the middle, I tried to find some way around that question. I didn’t do it, why should I have to forgive them? Silence. At this point my mind started to query whether I had ever done anything for which I should ask someone’s forgiveness. Of course there was less than total clarity on that issue. In my mind, I could find at least some questionable behaviors of my own, even within my marriage. There were certainly many other relationships I had been in where I might not have behaved well, or as well as I could have, all the time. Yet I did not remember any specific apologies on my part. The thing I wrestled with most was the agony caused to my son, when he had done absolutely nothing wrong and got caught in the middle of our adult drama.

I reframed the question I felt God had asked me, rolling it around in my head. While my response didn’t change, I did realize that an act of God might be absolutely necessary for the results I had requested. I then quietly whispered to Him “I am not willing, but I am willing to be willing”. I thought that was a way of somehow distancing myself from the consequences of my reluctance to obey. Wrong. What I had forgotten was the fact that God changes hearts, and I had effectively just given Him permission to change mine.

It wasn’t a minute later that I realized I had nothing but love for my ex husband and my friend, who had now been his wife for many more years than I had been. What? Wait a minute here. What? Where did all my justified anger go? What about all the…(^$%*&($#@!) things (that I suddenly could no longer remember) that hurt me? Ironically they had been replaced with thoughts of …why shouldn’t a child enjoy the love of two moms, both his Mom and his step Mom, when that love was offered to him so genuinely? Why would any person want to come between that? And so it went from there, for at least five more years.

If there is any story I have shared more in Christian circles and prayer groups, I cannot remember it. Even when it is hardest to change our stubborn minds and hearts, I always offer this advice: Tell God you are not willing to change, but you are willing to be willing to change. He will do all the rest because all He needs is our permission and He goes right to work! I never knew what hit me, but hit me it did. And I was the one who experienced the loss of our deep friendship when she passed away so young and who understood my son’s heartbreak at losing her. It is I who have missed her bright illumination at our future family gatherings with the amazing grandchildren she never got to meet or love “to the moon and back!”. God restored a deep, respectful relationship between us that, while not exactly the same as it had been before, was magnificent, made even more precious because of the cracks that had been so delicately and purposely filled within it.

I got a sweet thank you note from one of my nieces yesterday and included in her response to my joy following the birth of her daughter was an admission similar to many others I’ve received from my nieces and nephews (and sons!) as they welcomed their first child into the world. That first week or two and often again, even much later, were moments where they became fully aware that having a child (especially on your own, lacking a supportive spouse, nearby family and financial stability), was suddenly a daunting revelation to them. Add into it being a single parent already raising an amazing five year old with a 7-day-a-week storefront to run, ten employees to schedule, supervise and pay, and you have an even better glimpse into my complicated life 43 years ago. I really don’t remember that much of it, yet moments like this when I can pause and reflect are somewhat mind boggling to me too, for sure!

How did I do it? Well, that’s I guess that’s how it became the point at which I asked God into my life, having my actual ‘come to Jesus’ moment on Dec 9th, 1983. I knew I was truly outnumbered now with two small sons under six and I was definitely going to need some help. It is definitely the anniversary I most remember and celebrate in my life, one my Mom always phoned me to mark as well. Not because it was so special on the actual date. It was a just a day that a single mom from my church had come to help clean my house, while I was home recovering after the birth of my second son. Her money was tight, but she always tithed ten percent of her time to the Lord and I was the grateful recipient of her love and service that particular day. Although I had regularly been attending our Presbyterian fellowship for the past three months, she didn’t take anything for granted so somewhere in our day she asked me if I had ever asked Jesus into my heart? I replied something along the lines of “not in so many words.” Having been raised Christian, baptized, confirmed and having always attended church, I didn’t know there was anything missing, at which point she said ‘Well, let’s make sure’, and then she gently led me, with my permission, in the sinner’s prayer. It was not an event followed by lightning bolts from the sky and yet, looking back now, it was definitely the most important moment in my life.

After that, all my decisions were no longer made alone but with the quiet guidance of the Holy Spirit, as the Lord took up residence in my heart. As with any move-in, there were things to be sorted out and cleaned up, some to throw away, some to move to a secondary position, some to add to the existing mores and celebrations that were already in place with my little family tribe. We made room for a newcomer, Jesus. And my life was never the same after that; by that I mean never as lonely, never without joy, never without provision or the hope of provision for me and my boys. Life changing.

I guess this website is the story of some of those times as my memory is jogged here and there, just a note or a quick story, to pay tribute to the all encompassing love that came to fill my heart that day, assuring me that I would never run out of that love, regardless of any other struggles and circumstances sure to come my way. Such complete fullness, impossible to describe, though I do try.

Psalm 27:5-7 NIV

A year ago I received a call from the lady who plans the annual Gala that supports the crisis pregnancy center in St Petersburg, Florida. She was getting people lined up to head committees for that year’s celebration and she was reminiscing over the year prior. I had moved to town only one year before and had known no one involved in the pregnancy center ministries there. I had found a church family and about that same time one of the pastors announced she was forming a team to look into the possibilities of our church helping to support that ministry and I stepped forward to assist that committee.

Within a few short weeks I had met the woman who ran the center and bonded with her immediately as if we had known each other for a lifetime. Actually I have learned over the years that that is exactly the feeling one has when God puts you in a place where you never thought to go on your own. With that in mind, I signed up to be on the decoration committee, feeling it would be an inobtrusive place to help wherever I could. We were zoom calling our meetings at that time and I attended each of those where they admitted they had yet to find a head for that committee. I knew no one but had met the Director one time, so I just listened to try and get up to speed on the needs of the center. The gala date was only three months away and they were feeling a bit desperate. I volunteered to take the lead and come up with some ideas and prices for the formal evening for 250-300 guests for dinner at the huge and not exactly cozy Coliseum. They had no theme and no color scheme. In retrospect, I have often found God has me step in when no leaders step forward and then He supplies both the ideas, skills and the people I will need to succeed. I call myself a place card holder because I never really take possession of a role, knowing the rightful person will be arriving sometime soon. I fill in the gap. It always happens that way and it is easy for me to also step to the side when it does. I am a sub, by gifting and by nature, it seems.

The plans and team came together and all was provided that was needed. I was even able to use some of my ‘decorator’ talents to save the center a lot of money on the presentation. It was a gorgeous and warm welcoming evening. My abilities to do elegance on a shoestring allowed for a significant gain to their bottom line that evening. They had usually hired a decorator or event planner. When the financial officer looked back on it she called me to ask “Where did you come from?” as she couldn’t remember how I swept in and then, just as quickly, swept out of their midst ( I moved to Jacksonville two months after the Gala on the spur of the moment, to be in place for the birth of my newest grandson). In trying to replace me, she had tried to think through the whole scenario of how my being there had come about. We enjoyed a great conversation, as we retraced how God had supplied the very need they had laid at His feet in prayer, by a means they could not have foreseen (i.e. no one they knew!) and in His own perfect timing. We decided to pray together that He would do that once again and to trust that He would, as we already had proof that He had.

It is always fun to be reminded of things that He has done and the way He has provided for those who put their trust completely in Him. I came as an outsider. These women, many of them the same who started the center, had put together this Gala for twenty eight years. The revelation to us both on that call was that even though I was an ‘outsider’ to the center, I was an insider to the faith that ran it. They knew me because we both knew the One who sent me, and we recognized, from our long but separate journeys with Him, that our hearts were indeed already family. They trusted me implicitly, because they trusted Him completely. How often I have witnessed that in my lifetime and it is so beautiful. No egos to put aside. Grace.

Recently my grandchild was rehearsing for a part in a play and was resistant to feedback from her parents during that time. After losing star billing to someone else, there was great consternation. Her main query was “why didn’t you tell me?” implying that if they knew what she could have improved, why didn’t they share it with her before it was too late? The response of course was, “We did try, but you didn’t want to hear it.”
I often wonder right now, as I am often on the opposite side of many hot political as well as recent medical options with close family and friends, if I will one day hear similar words from someone I love.
I often check my thoughts at the beginning of any conversation, because they may well be quickly rejected out of hand with ‘that’s not happening here’, or ‘not in our community’, ‘its perfectly safe’ and ‘your news and information sources are all wrong’. Are they though? Do we truly have all the critical facts we need to make important decisions for our children, and have we always been told the whole truth? And who do we trust as our sources for truth? Will any of these family members or friends some day say that same thing to me? Or me to them? Some of us will undoubtedly be proven wrong by history, but who? And what might the cost of that omission be? The cost of saying anything right now seems terribly high in many of my closest relationships. It is a dilemma that many families are experiencing across the globe. No good or easy answer, and none without risk, I am afraid. Yet silence may have a price of its own as well I fear.

I wonder if God is often feeling the same way with us. “Why didn’t you tell me?” we plead, after taking some wrong turn in our lives. “I did, but you didn’t want to hear me.” And isn’t that the real truth?

Reflecting on the children’s game of Simon Says, it seems as though the Holy Spirit was the one whispering the ‘not Simon‘ directives in my ear. I often seem to have taken the path that no one else heard, as it was likely not meant for them, nor were they nearly as apt to follow it if they had heard. I mean, who does that? Hears voices? And they would probably have been quite angry at themselves for not following the crowd (and thereby also having been put out of the game), by righteously heeding only Simon’s instructions. I guess I took the path less traveled, as it were; the one that was whispered into only my own listening ear. “Go to Ithaca” said The Voice, clearly (although when I repeated these instructions later on the phone to a dear friend he replied “does God lisp”? Funny.)

I was home with a very new baby and a six year old at that time. I had a mortgage on the home I had received as the result of my recent divorce. I was the sole proprietor of an ‘open seven days a week’ gift shop in a sweet suburban town in New Jersey. It was a store I had started from scratch with a friend only seven years prior, which now boasted a handful of terrific, loyal employees. I had great friends and tons of wonderful, supportive customers. I had a vibrant church community. Why would I sell everything and go to a place I had never been, where I knew virtually no one? Remember in those days, forty years ago, there were no “virtual” ways to know people; no Facebook, no next door apps etc. It was either a huge leap of faith, or just plain crazy on my part, come to think about it. Yet it remains one of the clearest commands I can remember hearing in my lifetime. So I sold my house and my store and moved me and my boys upstate to Ithaca, N.Y (actually to the adjacent town), never to look back. And my adventures with God had only just begun.

Another year and a half gone by! Where does all the time go? A new grandson in this case. Born end of March 2023, but by last August I was caring for him three to four days a week while Mom and Dad worked. I am loving living so close by! He is the best companion and it is the most worthwhile use of my days; i realize it wont last forever so I am just enjoying every minute.
My other son had to again retrieve this lost part of my recorded thoughts and it took him quite awhile but I am so blessed that he did. I told him it wouldn’t be worth the money or the trouble he went to, but it truly was. Rarely have I captured the thoughts and notes of my life on paper so this is kind of a look into the way my mind works…scary thought in and of itself!
The older I get the more I tend to question my memories, so it is good to be able to look back a bit and note the dates I finally wrote them down. I always mean to write more, but time goes much too fast and I forget. So just begin again, as they say. I guess writing is a bit like dieting! Not much good at that either.

Four words that my son said were my most used exclamations on our five day trek across the country twelve years ago. We were in a small sedan complete with me, my then 28 yr old son and my trusty rescued dog, Gypsy. Oh, and every bit of clothing and memorabilia I could fit in the trunk along with a sewing machine, just in case I needed curtains or something to make my new home quickly homier.

It seemed that my response to anything unexpected was one or a combination of these expressions. I feel as though they accompanied a certain period of my life; one full of the unknown, of changes, both in scenery and in relationships. It was a time of experimentation with the boundaries of the self I had pretty much ignored during the raising of my two boys. There is only so much time available, and mine was already spoken for between their needs and those of making a living. This was not my retirement exactly, but as close to it as I might ever get. It meant still working, but only enough to cover my rent, as social security and Medicare had kicked in, taking with them the huge burden of so many years with no personal health care off of my shoulders. I was able to attend to the repair of my body and doing some needed maintenance that had often been postponed. I started a decades long update on my teeth, as I found my smile was my most treasured attribute and a loss I did not want to accept if there was a choice. And now there was.

I am often reminded how very fortunate I have been to navigate this life time with always enough opportunities to take care of my basic life needs, and I am ever conscious of those who do not have access to them. I am distressed by the constant promotion of dependence on government, rather than the human family and community surrounding them, to comfort and provide incentives to address those needs. God never intended an absentee and faceless, often heartless, entity to do what other humans could do so much more efficiently and kindly, with an accompanying love and appreciation for the soul, not just the body, of the individual… not just the case number.

And so I try to remember what those four words meant as I used them during that time. Perhaps I was only talking to the ‘inside’ me, the one giving herself permission to fail, to stumble, to pause or to grab on to a lifeline as needed, as her rocky life journey evolved. I rarely, if ever, use them anymore, but they were certainly wonderful handrails when I needed them.

When I wrote my last post, Tardy, it was with the complete intention to begin writing again. Here I am six years later just typing back in. Where did all that time go? Really the better part of a decade of my life. Hmmm. We shall see if the upcoming blogs are the result of some wisdom or clarity somehow obtained through osmosis during such a long absence. Was that time put to good use just living or reflecting upon the deeper meanings of my life? There certainly have been many changes, additions and losses during that time, so perhaps they will all get caught up in the tapestry I hope to continue to weave. We shall see. Time will tell…or maybe not. I might have just leapt over those chapters and they may not resurface to be examined by my further down the road brain and emotions. I am willing to take a chance to see them only in the rear view mirror, rather than try and create them from memory the way they might have been at the time. So here we go: forward!

I do have my oldest son to thank for getting all the back end work done to make this available to me again, as servers had changed and so had all the admin stuff (codes and connections to domains) needed to allow me to get back into and use my site. His hours in chats have made this possible and I am very grateful, because the familiar layout is very comforting to me. It fits me better than my old wardrobe, and it’s gypsy-like motif and the happy colors still make me smile.