jan has had a bone marrow transplant.
cancer of the blood. huge doses of chemo which
left her with no hair. the second toe on each foot
began to cross over her big toes.

she lost all her hair.
the hardest part, hands down,
of all of it. today, if has grown in blond,
amazingly thick, and wears it short. everyone
raves about how she looks. has been in remission
three years.

as she went in to the beauty shop to have her
nails done and hair washed, her manicurist
came over to her. arms folded. eyes closed
(i guess out of nervousness). she said,
"jan, i think your hair doesn't look good a little longer;
you need to wear it very short. it's stunning that way."

the sun had suddenly crawled behind the lingering clouds.
all music stopped. noise in the beauty shop ceased. and
jan's happy spirits were erased by sorrow and unspoken'
sadness. cancer had brought alot of difficult things into her
life. more than anything, she looks in the mirror, and
doesn't even know who she is anymore.

the punch-in-the-stomach words are often said
without realizing what they might mean. i really
don't believe this woman meant to hurt jan. jan is
just yearning to accept her new identity. i've never
had cancer, but will died of kidney cancer, and know
many who have had it. you are never quite the
same.
well . . . i think most aren't.

in loving the world to Jesus,
it seems best to be more quiet than loud.
more sensitive to what others might possibly
be feeling. how they might interpret things.

it's a skill: loving the world to Jesus.
building bridges instead of walls. try to think of
beautiful words that might cheer someone.

there was a man outside the grocery store today.
and right next to my car. he asked if i knew my one
light was out. honestly, it would be impossible NOT
to notice. still haven't had the courage or money to
get it fixed. hmmmm. here was someone God had
placed in my face.

he talked about how hard it was to make it in this
economy. that he had a place for his family to sleep
every night. but nothing left over for food. i only had $8
in my purse. but i looked at him.

"sir, do you know Jesus? He's our only Hope, you know..."
well, he needed to get his family back in church. . . yes. . . just
hard to do alot of things. i put my cash in his hand. reminded
him that no matter where we are, Jesus is far bigger than our
impossibilities. and patted his shoulder.

light a candle.
study the people around you.
look for ANYTHING that might touch
them. kind words go a long way with me.

candles burning. the weary-worn world reaching
for the flicker of light. be faithful, soldiers.
one day at a time. as the glow begins to dim.
understand that the shadow of God's Presence
is always, always with us. leading the way.
love, ann

our journey to grace

my daddy was a preacher.
fired up. sometimes, spit flew as he
was talking about the wiles of the devil.
he would hold his Bible up, and pace,
back and forth on the platform. He
would tell the congregation there was NOTHING
to fear or doubt or lose hope ever because the
Lord would always be taking care of it all.

we had family devotions every morning and
night. it was an absolute that we all kneel,
and that my father would always do the
praying. always. always. as if God wouldn't
hear one of us. and His prayers went on and
on and on. my mother, who was a concert
pianist. . . and so laid back. . . somehow believed
herself that we would all only make it to Heaven
because of daddy.

my father would always write, in his check book,
"to my dear Heavenly Father" for each tithe payment.
He loved Jesus and was devoted to his "flock".
we would be having dinner, and someone would call
with a need, and my father would listen and counsel and
weep as he prayed with them. on the phone in the
kitchen while we ate and listened and observed.

in his prayers, my father would always pray to be
removed from every atom of sin and self. i never
knew what that was really. . . but it was major to my
father. and he just couldn't, until a few years before
he died, accept that his son, fred, was a rebel and
prodigal. that is where my co-dependency started.
five years old, and it became an all-out mission to
make my father happy.

my beautiful mother was the one we ran to if my
father chastised us and told us that our arguing
made God sad. God. . . sad??? that scared jan
and me, and my mother would console us by saying
that she wanted to scream many times, and God understood.
that He never demanded perfection. we could keep going
with that. comforted.

that was jan's and my genesis. but, even now, i don't
think there is a day that i don't sin in thought or deed.
a thought of pride. an argument with jan over the phone when it
was nothing. andn i should have kept my mouth shut.
and let it be. just let it be. she means more than life to me.
just like my four children. i talk when i should be silent.

living really isn't about perfection. only about wholeness.
at celebrate recovery, i go to the room for co-dependents.
i'm a recovering pill addict, but i need women with substance
who can lay their sins on the table beside mine. i don't want
to push down a secret. keep it hidden. and i'm still afraid
to tell certain people in my life what i really feel. i end up
choosing to go along with their plans, and letting mine scatter.
down the hills. into the rivers. lost. gone.

always remember grace.
God's magnificent way of really knowing us
deep down, and showing us mercy when we don't
deserve it. it's such a beautiful thought that i can
taste the goodness of it. sweet to my lips. warmth to
my bones.

late again. reading all your thoughts.
longing for goodness in each of
your lives. chew, and swallow. . . the treasure
of grace. accept it for yourselves. i am always
trying to do the same. to always remember. . .
God is merciful.

Jesus, use me today...

your comments keep coming.
i read every one of them, riveted by
your love and journeys. a thick chord
of rope ties us together. makes us a
family. . . and gives us the Race to run
together.

if you have questions, or something you want
me to write about, let me know in your responses.

i'm driven by a mission to touch the world for Jesus.
this seems so difficult for most people to understand.

every day, in the morning, we earnestly ask the Lord
to put people right in front of our faces. from no where.
the bank teller. a woman in the grocery store who needs
something. the gas station attendant. we don't have to
go looking for people. God does that. and we don't have
to always speak about Jesus because we are, with everyone
we connect to, building a wall or a bridge. well, i'm out
to build bridges. . . not walls. . . and sometimes, building takes
time.

i was sitting in the lab at the doctor's office when a beautiful,
young hispanic woman walked in with her little (4 yrs. old)
son. she looked at me with a desperate, scattered glance.
i immediately got it. they were going to draw blood from
the child, and she was worried over how he would get through
this. suddenly, his name was called, and i nodded to his mother
that i was praying; covering her back. within minutes, my name
was called. there were little rooms divided by drapes.

suddenly, i heard this little boy screaming. in terror. in pain.
sobbing endlessly. i was praying. they were now drawing my
blood and i'm not very enthusiastic either because i have very
little veins that wiggle and move. i was on my way out of
this office when i suddenly stopped. i had noticed that the
little boy was still in the room. i looked in my purse. i found
a $5 bill. turned around. went back to the child's little room.
his face covered with tears. hiccuping sobs.

i walked in. smiling. i took his little hand in mine. put the
$5 bill in his palm, and folded his fingers around it.

"this is for you because you have been such a brave
little boy today. it took so much courage, and i'm proud
of you. this money is for you to go and buy ice cream, or
anything else you want!" i hugged him.

he looked up and smiled.
"thank you."
his mother and grandmother stood. smiling.
and i walked out of the big building of offices.
heading for my car. my eyes were shining. the
breeze warmed my face. i was no one. just one, ordinary
person in the world. but everything was changed.
i had loved a little boy like Jesus would. He and i and
love, changing the world together.

"come walk with me. . . through field and forest. . .
come climb the hills, and hear that song. for even
hills cannot be silent. they just can't help it. God
gives a song..."

for you. for me. for any and everyone.
try praying this prayer today:
"Jesus, please put someone in my path today
that i can love for you..."

a miracle is waiting for you!

almost midnight, and i've been reading all
your messages to me. some from people i
personally know and love. . . and mostly from you
all whom i've never met. . .but i genuinely love,
and feel we are a family. you measure my heart.
you teach me. we are reminded that life is a battle.
that we stand together. and i keep praying for you.
every one of you.

a miracle today.
i took $15 out of my account (lvg. $15 until sunday
when social security drops money into my acct.)
because i just HAD to have a work-out, and have
been waiting to see about a special offer for a yr.'s
membership. so. . . they've been charging me $15
for a two-hour work-out. can you believe that?

i walked up to the counter.
you must understand that i go to the gym without
any make-up. in shorts or sweat pants, with a cut-out
old tee-shirt. sleeves cut off. as low a profile as i can.
hair falling loose from my ponytail. i walked up to the
counter with my $15 when the manager walked up.

"you are ann, aren't you?
we gave you that 30-day membership didn't we?
i'm trying to come up with a special plan for you. . . so are
you alright at the moment?"

"well, i have to pay $15 every day. . ." and i am embarrassed
suddenly by my appearance.

"what? no. . .no." he turns to the girl behind the counter.
"give ann a seven-day, free pass."

miracles. just reminding you that Jesus is FULL of surprises
and miracles. and everything. . . our doubts, our failures, our seemingly-
hopeless situations. . . our
struggles and heartbreaks. . . everything is all covered by the Blood.
even the holes we fall into. the Blood of Jesus pulls us out and
sets our feet back on track. the Blood delivers us. sets
us free. there isn't alot of talk today about the Blood, but it's our
Redemption. it is EVERYTHING!

"how precious is the flow...
that washes white as snow...
no other Fount i know,
nothing but the Blood of Jesus."

today, kiss a child. tell someone she is beautiful.
smile at EVERYONE who looks your way. and watch.
we don't have to go door to door to share Jesus. we
just tell Him every morning that we are ready for Him to
put someone right in front of us. someone who needs
God's love. and He will do it every single day if we are
watching, and listening, to Jesus.

miracles and the Blood.
oh, i want to bathe in Jesus' Blood.
soak in it until it has seeped into my
brokenness. my pain. my yearning.
the crack in my soul. until i am whole.
not perfect and complete, but whole.

well.
here i am on monday.
2 p.m. and still in my pajamas.
have had my devotions. eaten.
covered my emails. dragging myself
like a snail. coming up with any detour
i can to postpone what must be done
today for me to have any self-respect
when i go to bed tonight.

jan called. she said i talk too much
about my money situation. as if i am
begging you all to help me. i stopped
breathing. silence and horror pounding
in my head.

jan, i speak about my situation because so
many people today are struggling. the economy is
so bad. i've tried to let my readers know i am
with them. i understand. but... as you say this
(and i am whispering to my sister at this point),
i believe you are right. NOT about people helping
me, but scratching worry lines in my blogs.
exposing my fear and lack of trust in Jesus for
my situations.

tuesdays are always better than mondays.
i've talked myself in to believing this.
but i want to ask you all, who might feel
like my sister, to forgive me. one of my
daily sins is the fear of not making it
every month. the Lord COMMANDS us to
NOT worry. sooo............

pray for me.
and i will, for you. and i am
earnestly going to attempt speaking
without whining and fear.

now. . . i must run. vacuum. clean my
closet. and fit the gym in. before i sleep
tonight. i will, as always, check in to see how
you all are doing. i love you. ann

have i told you that i not only hate
early mornings, but i especially dread
mondays, with an entire week to get through?!!
monday mornings . . . require a
more rigorous task than just walking through a
serious tornado. early on mondays means
forcing me to not only do the tornado run but climb a
slanting mountain through a slippery waterfall.

you guessed it.
tomorrow is monday.

brandt and jasmine dropped off colben
my doll-baby grandson. two week-end days.
you can see why i LOVE week-ends.

well, after devotions and prayer time with God,
i am sure that heading to the gym is my best solution.
run it out. let sweat roll and tensions ease. just clean
it up with Jesus. when your work-out has calmed your
anxieties and levelled all the pressures, then, you can
go home and clean out your closet. straighten your
spine. wipe the bathroom counters. unload the dish-
washer. pay bills (as many as you can).

monday mornings must have been evaluated by God,
and He decided they are VERY important in our
discipline to say "yes" to Him, no matter what. it seems
He created what i call 'misery' to keep us on our toes
in this relentless battle called 'life'. to force us to take
our feet. swing them over the bed. . . align them, and start
walking. . . and waiting for Jesus to put people right smack
in front of us to love and be kind to. and often to speak
about this glorious Savior who can steady every
broken heart, and what seems like relentless hardship
and failure.

i'm determined to work on my spirit re: monday mornings.
to go even farther, and just let Jesus do in me whatever He's
noticing that is out-of-tune. i want Jesus. want Him with all
my heart. He has a big job cut out when it comes
to me. many corrections, and even some coersion issues.

Jesus says we are to run to win.
to WIN! some assignment. huge
in my book. i need some rushing water and
encouragement and reassurance. even a thunder-clap
now and then.

it is after midnight.
when we open our eyes in the morning,
let's don our crowns. and our big boots for
marching. i am so HOPING i'll see you on the trail.

proverbs 3:5-6

one a.m.
another day wrapped up.
always checking in on your lives
and thoughts. anointed water...in
some way divine...running down my
back, my eyes, my soul. your honesty
haunts me. makes me yearn to be purer
and cleaner and more-unveiling to you,
my friends and readers.

i spoke tonight to about 20 women, in a
chinese restaurant 45 min. away. a small
church needing a speaker. would i come?
yes. yes, of course. my neighborhood.

i stood. 15 minutes.
trying to explain the simplicity and ease of sharing
Jesus in each of our world's. and ALWAYS confessing
that i am an addict in recovery. imperfect. human. flawed.
Jesus begins to breathe in us.
His love is like a torch in our darkest places.

you do not need to go door to door, shaking and terrified,
to share Jesus. just pray. ask Jesus to put
people in front of you today that you can touch. a word.
a smile. speaking the name of Jesus. a $5 bill tucked
into a little boy's hand. a song. then, Jesus does
the rest. it is that simple. and one by one, the world
around us is changed. you watch! you'll see!

tonight, may God's rest cover you. may His love
soak into your wounds, and heal them...and you...to
your core. just remember that we are all broken, and
we'll clean our slate of failures for today...and tomorrow,
somewhere, we'll probably mess up again. a thought of pride.
a moment of unkindness. it's not hard. we just slide right
off the road to the wrong side of good. in a second,
before we can catch ourselves. i sin every day somewhere.
lack of faith. worry. it is like a bad habit i can't overcome.

i love you. i carry your wounds with me.
we are shoulder to shoulder.
marching sort of lopsided along
the road. we'll get there. to the other side.
in His time.