Travis W. Inman's Blog, page 7

Mediterranean Madness Part I, Getting There

In October 2013, I took my family on a 12 night Mediterranean cruise.  I am posting this review on Cruise Critic so others can benefit from what we learned on this trip.  I've had several requests to post our story in a format that is a little easier to enjoy.  So, I will post this review both on my blog and the Cruise Critic website.  You can find the CC post here.

This is Royal Caribbean's Serenade of the Seas.  Which would be our home for 12 nights.
Part OneThe Beginning.  Just getting out of the gate is a story all on it's own...Our journey to the Mediterranean began many years before our actual trip, and, by all rights, the trip nearly failed on many occasions.  My wife and I are avid cruisers, having taken our first trip in 2004 on the Rhapsody of the Seas with Royal Caribbean.  We have taken a cruise somewhere almost every year since.  I firmly believe that cruising is the complete package when it comes to vacations.  The world's greatest destinations come to me, and all I have to do to enjoy them is to get out of bed, all the while eating the finest cuisines, drinking the smoothest Scotch, viewing the finest art, and smiling with the perfect wife.  Going to sleep in one continent and waking up in another is a privilege that I don't enjoy casually.
While enjoying our second Alaska cruise, which happened to be the Rhapsody again, my wife, Sarah, and I discussed our future cruising plans.  We rather enjoyed cruising in the company of Sarah's grandparents, who are excellent travel partners, and I discussed taking a Galapagos trip with Papaw.  Unfortunately, he went on to his reward  before we could cruise again.  So, Sarah and I decided that we had enjoyed 7 night cruises so much that we would really enjoy a longer cruise.  But where to go?  We found a lack of interesting cruises in the States that excited us, so we concluded that we simply had to commit to a Mediterranean experience.  Essentially, our October 2013 cruise began in 2009, while skirting the edge of Hubbard Glacier.  We just needed to put a plan together.
 
Sarah's Cruise Bible
Sarah is the consummate planner, who can't seem to go to Walmart without a trip planner, which is neatly bound into a binder, which becomes the Bible.  If you're only going to Walmart, this is overkill.  However, if you are going on a cruise, it is the most important thing, second only to your airline tickets.  My ADD forbids me from obsessing about petty details such as points of contact for an excursion, or the dates of the cruise itself.  I am truly blessed to have an obsessive planner in my life. 
Well, my excessive planner started researching European cruises in 2009 and we began to make plans.  We knew it was going to cost a fortune, and one of us would have to sell a kidney in order to make it work.  (Fortunately, one of our three kids was a perfect match for a Russian mob boss, who paid us cash, no questions asked.  Consequently, Annabelle will not be attending the cruise because she can't leave the closet, where she has lived quietly for several years now.)  By 2010, we had a rough idea what we wanted from the trip, so we began making actual plans.  In between, we went on a Disney cruise to Cabo, and a Carnival trip to Cozumel, and the Mayan ruins in Progresso.  I will never, ever, sail with Carnival again, but that is a post for a different day. 
We knew we wanted to visit France, Italy, and Greece, and I wanted to throw in someplace like Austria or Hungary, but I suppose the country actually has to connect to the Sea before you can cruise to it.  Go figure!  We also knew that there are only certain companies we are willing to cruise with, and Royal Caribbean is one of them.  So, now we were down to actually selecting a ship and an itinerary.  Only...we knew we couldn't afford such a trip unless we allowed plennnnnty of time to budget it into our vacation portfolio.  We simply couldn't get the cruise companies to publish their itineraries 3 years in advance.  I'll talk to the Captain about that when I get a chance.  You can count on it!
In 2012, my wife was at a family reunion in Las Vegas and mentioned the cruise.  Several of her family members gathered around and began a long discussion that turned into a planning session, which turned into an actual ship name and itinerary.  Looks like we were going to have company on our 2013 vacation! In the end, we had a party of 15 which included Sarah's parents, sister and brother-in-law, and many of her brother-in-law's family.
Now we have a great ship and an equally incredible itinerary, which will make this trip unforgettable.  How can you go wrong with Barcelona, Cannes, Florence, Naples, Rome, Athens, Turkey, and the Greek Isles?  Talk about the ultimate in awesome ports, not to mention Europe and Asia, plus the coast of Africa off the port bow!  This trip is gonna rock!  Now we only have to pay for it...
Well, as one might rightly conclude, getting from Northern Idaho to Barcelona is not so simple unless you have a genie in your closet.  And I'm fresh out of genies.  Remember, we had to move our third child into the closet after that kidney donation?  Kidding!  Bad joke.  Not true!  We never actually had her in the closet, it's more like a bonus room in the attic.
Well, we began setting money aside for our airline tickets, as that was almost as much as our cruise tickets.  Sarah spent countless hours planning and comparing, and she finally found what seemed to offer the best choice for our family of four.  And the tickets were only about 1200.00 each.  Not too bad for 18 hours of flying, right?  I mean, that's less than a hundred dollars an hour.  We knew once we bought those tickets, we were committed, and I mean totally committed, bottom dollar, sink or swim, ride 'em cowboy, Oregon or bust! Committed.  We fully intended on making this trip.  And the longer we waited to buy airline tickets, the more expensive it was going to be.  So, we pulled the trigger.  We were on our way!  The trip was actually going to happen!
And then it happened.  Of course, you saw it coming.  I mean, after all, who builds this much suspense if nothing is going to happen, right?  Well, I'm certain most of you will recognize the following word: sequestration .
I don't normally discuss my work, but at that time I was a federal employee when President Obama began talking about shutting down the government in his battle with the Republican's over his non-existing budget.  I can still hear the words the President spoke when he said, "The American people need to experience pain..." We got notice that I was going to be furloughed just a few weeks after we bought the airline tickets.  Tickets, by the way, that have to be used within one year of purchase, or they are forfeited.  Initially, I was told that I would be furloughed for up to 25 days, which ultimately would result in about 40% drop in my income.  That's a pretty tough hit, no matter what your income is, and I was about to find out just how tough it was going to be.  We notified our family that there was no way we could afford the cruise with my pay cut so severely, and we pulled out of the trip.  We decided we were just going to lose the money for the flights.  There was no way around it.
It was so sad to tell the kids that we were cancelling the trip, and it really hit home when Sarah stopped researching because she couldn't bring herself to make plans for a trip that was not going to happen.  We had already paid for a few tours, and we, after planning each port call carefully, even generously extended our tours to the family in order to bring the price down.  And now we were pulling out, which was going to leave everyone else in a lurch.
Well, the American conservatives began to make phone calls and write letters to Congress, and my pay was reinstated -- almost.  I still suffered a 5% income loss, but that was multitudes better than the 40% I was about to lose.  So, our trip was back on! 
The next set back occurred three and a half weeks before the trip.  I was visiting a friend of mine who was remodeling her house.  She removed the banisters from around her staircase, leaving the staircase well wide open, like a black hole.  I was taking the nickel tour at her behest and, while inspecting her crown molding, I stepped backward into that stairwell.  And when I say backwards, I mean I took the Nestea plunge.  My friend described it as one of those falls you take when at a team/confidence building conference where you fall backwards and your buddies are supposed to catch you.  But in my instance, there was no one, just empty space and a wooden staircase waiting for me.  I fell 12 feet backwards and the first thing that hit was my head, and then my back slammed into the stairs, and then I slid down to the bottom, my head hitting every step on the way.
I was addled, but fully conscious.  I wasn't sure what happened, but I knew something horrible happened.  I've had major surgeries in my life, and I relate that state of distortion to the sensation of coming out of surgery and not remembering that you went under the knife.  The air was knocked out of me, and I spent several hours trying to breathe again.  Well, it was probably only a minute, but it felt like an eternity.  Once I caught my breath, I was able to stand, and to walk, and talk.  I was lucky just to be alive.
I went home an hour or two later and broke to news to my wife, who was slightly perturbed at me for falling backwards down a staircase, as if I wasn't already feeling bad about the whole matter.  I went to bed that night wondering what my world would look like in the morning. 
I take blood thinners due to a heart condition I have, and I was extremely worried that I was suffering from internal bleeding, plus the high probability that I could have an aneurysm in my brain.  The back of my head was swollen to the point that I looked as though I had a rump roast under my hair.  Not only that, I really felt bad.
Time would prove that the only significant injury sustained in the fall was the three broken ribs on my left side.  I slept in the recliner for the rest of my time before leaving on our dearly needed vacation.  Our vacation?  Who was I kidding? I had already missed a full week of work, 9 days, to be specific, and I couldn't walk without taking Valium to keep my back muscles from spasming, causing me devastating, debilitating, disabling pain in my broken ribs.  
This photo of my lower back was taken on day 7 once the swelling went down and only the bruise remained.  Looks like an awesome tramp stamp!
Sarah was watching her vacation evaporate before her eyes, but I boldly declared to her that I would not let this minor setback ruin her trip.  I just needed some time to recover.  I still had roughly 12 more days before we had to leave.  I just needed to sit in my recliner and not die.
Guess what happened next?  October the First.  That's what happened next.  And what happened on the first day of October, you might be asking?  Well, I'll tell you.  The Federal government shut down.  The words that echoed the loudest was FURLOUGH all non-essential government workers, and CANCEL all leave (vacation time, for you civilians) until the government passes a budget.  This included sick leave, emergency leave, vacation, etc...  Well.  As Chester Riley used to say, "Ain't this a revolting development?" 
It turns out that I was an essential employee, so I was granted the honor of working without the promise of pay while President Obama continually repeated his determination not to negotiate with the Republicans.
I went to my boss, who was aware of my pending vacation in less than 8 days, and he said he would grant me a waiver because I was so heavily invested in the trip.  This is a good place to insert a plug for TRIP INSURANCE.  Don't leave home without it, especially if you are planning a 20,000 dollar European vacation.  And now, back to the story...  My boss told me that I could still go, but I would forfeit any back pay for my vacation time.  Well, this day just keeps getting better, eh?
Sarah and I discussed the situation over an empty box of Kleenexes and made a hard decision.  We did have trip insurance, but it was limited. It only covered a portion of the money we had already invested.  I could forfeit my pay or I could forfeit what I had already spent money on for the last year.  It was all sunshine and lollypops at my house that day!  Then, the rumor surfaced that Congress was going to pass an emergency relief bill to pay the furloughed employees, so we decided that we would roll the dice and hope for the best.  As I write these words, I am on a Delta flight and looking down at Lake Erie (I can type without looking at my fingers).  As of today, the bill hasn't passed, and I still don't know if I'm bankrupt.  I'll find out soon enough.  But let's get back to the trip before I digress any further.  Before I don't digress, let me take a moment and tell you that eventually congress and the President got together and agreed to create a continuing resolution, which paid all Federal employees for the time we were furloughed.  Just thought I'd get that out of the way.  And now I continue my review...in the next post!

Mediterranean Madness Part I

In October 2013, I took my family on a 12 night Mediterranean cruise.  I am posting this review on Cruise Critic so others can benefit from what we learned on this trip.  I've had several requests to post our story in a format that is a little easier to enjoy.  So, I will post this review both on my blog and the Cruise Critic website.  You can find the CC post here.

This is Royal Caribbean's Serenade of the Seas.  Which would be our home for 12 nights.
Part OneThe Beginning.  Just getting out of the gate is a story all on it's own...Our journey to the Mediterranean began many years before our actual trip, and, by all rights, the trip nearly failed on many occasions.  My wife and I are avid cruisers, having taken our first trip in 2004 on the Rhapsody of the Seas with Royal Caribbean.  We have taken a cruise somewhere almost every year since.  I firmly believe that cruising is the complete package when it comes to vacations.  The world's greatest destinations come to me, and all I have to do to enjoy them is to get out of bed, all the while eating the finest cuisines, drinking the smoothest Scotch, viewing the finest art, and smiling with the perfect wife.  Going to sleep in one continent and waking up in another is a privilege that I don't enjoy casually.
While enjoying our second Alaska cruise, which happened to be the Rhapsody again, my wife, Sarah, and I discussed our future cruising plans.  We rather enjoyed cruising in the company of Sarah's grandparents, who are excellent travel partners, and I discussed taking a Galapagos trip with Papaw.  Unfortunately, he went on to his reward  before we could cruise again.  So, Sarah and I decided that we had enjoyed 7 night cruises so much that we would really enjoy a longer cruise.  But where to go?  We found a lack of interesting cruises in the States that excited us, so we concluded that we simply had to commit to a Mediterranean experience.  Essentially, our October 2013 cruise began in 2009, while skirting the edge of Hubbard Glacier.  We just needed to put a plan together.
 
Sarah's Cruise Bible
Sarah is the consummate planner, who can't seem to go to Walmart without a trip planner, which is neatly bound into a binder, which becomes the Bible.  If you're only going to Walmart, this is overkill.  However, if you are going on a cruise, it is the most important thing, second only to your airline tickets.  My ADD forbids me from obsessing about petty details such as points of contact for an excursion, or the dates of the cruise itself.  I am truly blessed to have an obsessive planner in my life. 
Well, my excessive planner started researching European cruises in 2009 and we began to make plans.  We knew it was going to cost a fortune, and one of us would have to sell a kidney in order to make it work.  (Fortunately, one of our three kids was a perfect match for a Russian mob boss, who paid us cash, no questions asked.  Consequently, Annabelle will not be attending the cruise because she can't leave the closet, where she has lived quietly for several years now.)  By 2010, we had a rough idea what we wanted from the trip, so we began making actual plans.  In between, we went on a Disney cruise to Cabo, and a Carnival trip to Cozumel, and the Mayan ruins in Progresso.  I will never, ever, sail with Carnival again, but that is a post for a different day. 
We knew we wanted to visit France, Italy, and Greece, and I wanted to throw in someplace like Austria or Hungary, but I suppose the country actually has to connect to the Sea before you can cruise to it.  Go figure!  We also knew that there are only certain companies we are willing to cruise with, and Royal Caribbean is one of them.  So, now we were down to actually selecting a ship and an itinerary.  Only...we knew we couldn't afford such a trip unless we allowed plennnnnty of time to budget it into our vacation portfolio.  We simply couldn't get the cruise companies to publish their itineraries 3 years in advance.  I'll talk to the Captain about that when I get a chance.  You can count on it!
In 2012, my wife was at a family reunion in Las Vegas and mentioned the cruise.  Several of her family members gathered around and began a long discussion that turned into a planning session, which turned into an actual ship name and itinerary.  Looks like we were going to have company on our 2013 vacation! In the end, we had a party of 15 which included Sarah's parents, sister and brother-in-law, and many of her brother-in-law's family.
Now we have a great ship and an equally incredible itinerary, which will make this trip unforgettable.  How can you go wrong with Barcelona, Cannes, Florence, Naples, Rome, Athens, Turkey, and the Greek Isles?  Talk about the ultimate in awesome ports, not to mention Europe and Asia, plus the coast of Africa off the port bow!  This trip is gonna rock!  Now we only have to pay for it...
Well, as one might rightly conclude, getting from Northern Idaho to Barcelona is not so simple unless you have a genie in your closet.  And I'm fresh out of genies.  Remember, we had to move our third child into the closet after that kidney donation?  Kidding!  Bad joke.  Not true!  We never actually had her in the closet, it's more like a bonus room in the attic.
Well, we began setting money aside for our airline tickets, as that was almost as much as our cruise tickets.  Sarah spent countless hours planning and comparing, and she finally found what seemed to offer the best choice for our family of four.  And the tickets were only about 1200.00 each.  Not too bad for 18 hours of flying, right?  I mean, that's less than a hundred dollars an hour.  We knew once we bought those tickets, we were committed, and I mean totally committed, bottom dollar, sink or swim, ride 'em cowboy, Oregon or bust! Committed.  We fully intended on making this trip.  And the longer we waited to buy airline tickets, the more expensive it was going to be.  So, we pulled the trigger.  We were on our way!  The trip was actually going to happen!
And then it happened.  Of course, you saw it coming.  I mean, after all, who builds this much suspense if nothing is going to happen, right?  Well, I'm certain most of you will recognize the following word: sequestration .
I don't normally discuss my work, but at that time I was a federal employee when President Obama began talking about shutting down the government in his battle with the Republican's over his non-existing budget.  I can still hear the words the President spoke when he said, "The American people need to experience pain..." We got notice that I was going to be furloughed just a few weeks after we bought the airline tickets.  Tickets, by the way, that have to be used within one year of purchase, or they are forfeited.  Initially, I was told that I would be furloughed for up to 25 days, which ultimately would result in about 40% drop in my income.  That's a pretty tough hit, no matter what your income is, and I was about to find out just how tough it was going to be.  We notified our family that there was no way we could afford the cruise with my pay cut so severely, and we pulled out of the trip.  We decided we were just going to lose the money for the flights.  There was no way around it.
It was so sad to tell the kids that we were cancelling the trip, and it really hit home when Sarah stopped researching because she couldn't bring herself to make plans for a trip that was not going to happen.  We had already paid for a few tours, and we, after planning each port call carefully, even generously extended our tours to the family in order to bring the price down.  And now we were pulling out, which was going to leave everyone else in a lurch.
Well, the American conservatives began to make phone calls and write letters to Congress, and my pay was reinstated -- almost.  I still suffered a 5% income loss, but that was multitudes better than the 40% I was about to lose.  So, our trip was back on! 
The next set back occurred three and a half weeks before the trip.  I was visiting a friend of mine who was remodeling her house.  She removed the banisters from around her staircase, leaving the staircase well wide open, like a black hole.  I was taking the nickel tour at her behest and, while inspecting her crown molding, I stepped backward into that stairwell.  And when I say backwards, I mean I took the Nestea plunge.  My friend described it as one of those falls you take when at a team/confidence building conference where you fall backwards and your buddies are supposed to catch you.  But in my instance, there was no one, just empty space and a wooden staircase waiting for me.  I fell 12 feet backwards and the first thing that hit was my head, and then my back slammed into the stairs, and then I slid down to the bottom, my head hitting every step on the way.
I was addled, but fully conscious.  I wasn't sure what happened, but I knew something horrible happened.  I've had major surgeries in my life, and I relate that state of distortion to the sensation of coming out of surgery and not remembering that you went under the knife.  The air was knocked out of me, and I spent several hours trying to breathe again.  Well, it was probably only a minute, but it felt like an eternity.  Once I caught my breath, I was able to stand, and to walk, and talk.  I was lucky just to be alive.
I went home an hour or two later and broke to news to my wife, who was slightly perturbed at me for falling backwards down a staircase, as if I wasn't already feeling bad about the whole matter.  I went to bed that night wondering what my world would look like in the morning. 
I take blood thinners due to a heart condition I have, and I was extremely worried that I was suffering from internal bleeding, plus the high probability that I could have an aneurysm in my brain.  The back of my head was swollen to the point that I looked as though I had a rump roast under my hair.  Not only that, I really felt bad.
Time would prove that the only significant injury sustained in the fall was the three broken ribs on my left side.  I slept in the recliner for the rest of my time before leaving on our dearly needed vacation.  Our vacation?  Who was I kidding? I had already missed a full week of work, 9 days, to be specific, and I couldn't walk without taking Valium to keep my back muscles from spasming, causing me devastating, debilitating, disabling pain in my broken ribs.  
This photo of my lower back was taken on day 7 once the swelling went down and only the bruise remained.  Looks like an awesome tramp stamp!
Sarah was watching her vacation evaporate before her eyes, but I boldly declared to her that I would not let this minor setback ruin her trip.  I just needed some time to recover.  I still had roughly 12 more days before we had to leave.  I just needed to sit in my recliner and not die.
Guess what happened next?  October the First.  That's what happened next.  And what happened on the first day of October, you might be asking?  Well, I'll tell you.  The Federal government shut down.  The words that echoed the loudest was FURLOUGH all non-essential government workers, and CANCEL all leave (vacation time, for you civilians) until the government passes a budget.  This included sick leave, emergency leave, vacation, etc...  Well.  As Chester Riley used to say, "Ain't this a revolting development?" 
It turns out that I was an essential employee, so I was granted the honor of working without the promise of pay while President Obama continually repeated his determination not to negotiate with the Republicans.
I went to my boss, who was aware of my pending vacation in less than 8 days, and he said he would grant me a waiver because I was so heavily invested in the trip.  This is a good place to insert a plug for TRIP INSURANCE.  Don't leave home without it, especially if you are planning a 20,000 dollar European vacation.  And now, back to the story...  My boss told me that I could still go, but I would forfeit any back pay for my vacation time.  Well, this day just keeps getting better, eh?
Sarah and I discussed the situation over an empty box of Kleenexes and made a hard decision.  We did have trip insurance, but it was limited. It only covered a portion of the money we had already invested.  I could forfeit my pay or I could forfeit what I had already spent money on for the last year.  It was all sunshine and lollypops at my house that day!  Then, the rumor surfaced that Congress was going to pass an emergency relief bill to pay the furloughed employees, so we decided that we would roll the dice and hope for the best.  As I write these words, I am on a Delta flight and looking down at Lake Erie (I can type without looking at my fingers).  As of today, the bill hasn't passed, and I still don't know if I'm bankrupt.  I'll find out soon enough.  But let's get back to the trip before I digress any further.  Before I don't digress, let me take a moment and tell you that eventually congress and the President got together and agreed to create a continuing resolution, which paid all Federal employees for the time we were furloughed.  Just thought I'd get that out of the way.  And now I continue my review...in the next post!

Mediterranean Madness Part One

In October 2013, I took my family on a 12 night Mediterranean cruise.  I am posting this review on Cruise Critic so others can benefit from what we learned on this trip.  I've had several requests to post our story in a format that is a little easier to enjoy.  So, I will post this review both on my blog and the Cruise Critic website.  You can find the CC post here.

This is Royal Caribbean's Serenade of the Seas.  Which would be our home for 12 nights.
Part OneThe Beginning.  Just getting out of the gate is a story all on it's own... Our journey to the Mediterranean began many years before our actual trip, and, by all rights, the trip nearly failed on many occasions.  My wife and I are avid cruisers, having taken our first trip in 2004 on the Rhapsody of the Seas with Royal Caribbean.  We have taken a cruise somewhere almost every year since.  I firmly believe that cruising is the complete package when it comes to vacations.  The world's greatest destinations come to me, and all I have to do to enjoy them is to get out of bed, all the while eating the finest cuisines, drinking the smoothest Scotch, viewing the finest art, and smiling with the perfect wife.  Going to sleep in one continent and waking up in another is a privilege that I don't enjoy casually.
While enjoying our second Alaska cruise, which happened to be the Rhapsody again, my wife, Sarah, and I discussed our future cruising plans.  We rather enjoyed cruising in the company of Sarah's grandparents, who are excellent travel partners, and I discussed taking a Galapagos trip with Papaw.  Unfortunately, he went on to his reward  before we could cruise again.  So, Sarah and I decided that we had enjoyed 7 night cruises so much that we would really enjoy a longer cruise.  But where to go?  We found a lack of interesting cruises in the States that excited us, so we concluded that we simply had to commit to a Mediterranean experience.  Essentially, our October 2013 cruise began in 2009, while skirting the edge of Hubbard Glacier.  We just needed to put a plan together.
 
Sarah's Cruise Bible
Sarah is the consummate planner, who can't seem to go to Walmart without a trip planner, which is neatly bound into a binder, which becomes the Bible.  If you're only going to Walmart, this is overkill.  However, if you are going on a cruise, it is the most important thing, second only to your airline tickets.  My ADD forbids me from obsessing about petty details such as points of contact for an excursion, or the dates of the cruise itself.  I am truly blessed to have an obsessive planner in my life. 
Well, my excessive planner started researching European cruises in 2009 and we began to make plans.  We knew it was going to cost a fortune, and one of us would have to sell a kidney in order to make it work.  (Fortunately, one of our three kids was a perfect match for a Russian mob boss, who paid us cash, no questions asked.  Consequently, Annabelle will not be attending the cruise because she can't leave the closet, where she has lived quietly for several years now.)  By 2010, we had a rough idea what we wanted from the trip, so we began making actual plans.  In between, we went on a Disney cruise to Cabo, and a Carnival trip to Cozumel, and the Mayan ruins in Progresso.  I will never, ever, sail with Carnival again, but that is a post for a different day. 
We knew we wanted to visit France, Italy, and Greece, and I wanted to throw in someplace like Austria or Hungary, but I suppose the country actually has to connect to the Sea before you can cruise to it.  Go figure!  We also knew that there are only certain companies we are willing to cruise with, and Royal Caribbean is one of them.  So, now we were down to actually selecting a ship and an itinerary.  Only...we knew we couldn't afford such a trip unless we allowed plennnnnty of time to budget it into our vacation portfolio.  We simply couldn't get the cruise companies to publish their itineraries 3 years in advance.  I'll talk to the Captain about that when I get a chance.  You can count on it!
In 2012, my wife was at a family reunion in Las Vegas and mentioned the cruise.  Several of her family members gathered around and began a long discussion that turned into a planning session, which turned into an actual ship name and itinerary.  Looks like we were going to have company on our 2013 vacation! In the end, we had a party of 15 which included Sarah's parents, sister and brother-in-law, and many of her brother-in-law's family.
Now we have a great ship and an equally incredible itinerary, which will make this trip unforgettable.  How can you go wrong with Barcelona, Cannes, Florence, Naples, Rome, Athens, Turkey, and the Greek Isles?  Talk about the ultimate in awesome ports, not to mention Europe and Asia, plus the coast of Africa off the port bow!  This trip is gonna rock!  Now we only have to pay for it...
Well, as one might rightly conclude, getting from Northern Idaho to Barcelona is not so simple unless you have a genie in your closet.  And I'm fresh out of genies.  Remember, we had to move our third child into the closet after that kidney donation?  Kidding!  Bad joke.  Not true!  We never actually had her in the closet, it's more like a bonus room in the attic.
Well, we began setting money aside for our airline tickets, as that was almost as much as our cruise tickets.  Sarah spent countless hours planning and comparing, and she finally found what seemed to offer the best choice for our family of four.  And the tickets were only about 1200.00 each.  Not too bad for 18 hours of flying, right?  I mean, that's less than a hundred dollars an hour.  We knew once we bought those tickets, we were committed, and I mean totally committed, bottom dollar, sink or swim, ride 'em cowboy, Oregon or bust! Committed.  We fully intended on making this trip.  And the longer we waited to buy airline tickets, the more expensive it was going to be.  So, we pulled the trigger.  We were on our way!  The trip was actually going to happen!
And then it happened.  Of course, you saw it coming.  I mean, after all, who builds this much suspense if nothing is going to happen, right?  Well, I'm certain most of you will recognize the following word: sequestration .
I don't normally discuss my work, but at that time I was a federal employee when President Obama began talking about shutting down the government in his battle with the Republican's over his non-existing budget.  I can still hear the words the President spoke when he said, "The American people need to experience pain..." We got notice that I was going to be furloughed just a few weeks after we bought the airline tickets.  Tickets, by the way, that have to be used within one year of purchase, or they are forfeited.  Initially, I was told that I would be furloughed for up to 25 days, which ultimately would result in about 40% drop in my income.  That's a pretty tough hit, no matter what your income is, and I was about to find out just how tough it was going to be.  We notified our family that there was no way we could afford the cruise with my pay cut so severely, and we pulled out of the trip.  We decided we were just going to lose the money for the flights.  There was no way around it.
It was so sad to tell the kids that we were cancelling the trip, and it really hit home when Sarah stopped researching because she couldn't bring herself to make plans for a trip that was not going to happen.  We had already paid for a few tours, and we, after planning each port call carefully, even generously extended our tours to the family in order to bring the price down.  And now we were pulling out, which was going to leave everyone else in a lurch.
Well, the American conservatives began to make phone calls and write letters to Congress, and my pay was reinstated -- almost.  I still suffered a 5% income loss, but that was multitudes better than the 40% I was about to lose.  So, our trip was back on! 
The next set back occurred three and a half weeks before the trip.  I was visiting a friend of mine who was remodeling her house.  She removed the banisters from around her staircase, leaving the staircase well wide open, like a black hole.  I was taking the nickel tour at her behest and, while inspecting her crown molding, I stepped backward into that stairwell.  And when I say backwards, I mean I took the Nestea plunge.  My friend described it as one of those falls you take when at a team/confidence building conference where you fall backwards and your buddies are supposed to catch you.  But in my instance, there was no one, just empty space and a wooden staircase waiting for me.  I fell 12 feet backwards and the first thing that hit was my head, and then my back slammed into the stairs, and then I slid down to the bottom, my head hitting every step on the way.
I was addled, but fully conscious.  I wasn't sure what happened, but I knew something horrible happened.  I've had major surgeries in my life, and I relate that state of distortion to the sensation of coming out of surgery and not remembering that you went under the knife.  The air was knocked out of me, and I spent several hours trying to breathe again.  Well, it was probably only a minute, but it felt like an eternity.  Once I caught my breath, I was able to stand, and to walk, and talk.  I was lucky just to be alive.
I went home an hour or two later and broke to news to my wife, who was slightly perturbed at me for falling backwards down a staircase, as if I wasn't already feeling bad about the whole matter.  I went to bed that night wondering what my world would look like in the morning. 
I take blood thinners due to a heart condition I have, and I was extremely worried that I was suffering from internal bleeding, plus the high probability that I could have an aneurysm in my brain.  The back of my head was swollen to the point that I looked as though I had a rump roast under my hair.  Not only that, I really felt bad.
Time would prove that the only significant injury sustained in the fall was the three broken ribs on my left side.  I slept in the recliner for the rest of my time before leaving on our dearly needed vacation.  Our vacation?  Who was I kidding? I had already missed a full week of work, 9 days, to be specific, and I couldn't walk without taking Valium to keep my back muscles from spasming, causing me devastating, debilitating, disabling pain in my broken ribs.  
This photo of my lower back was taken on day 7 once the swelling went down and only the bruise remained.  Looks like an awesome tramp stamp!
Sarah was watching her vacation evaporate before her eyes, but I boldly declared to her that I would not let this minor setback ruin her trip.  I just needed some time to recover.  I still had roughly 12 more days before we had to leave.  I just needed to sit in my recliner and not die.
Guess what happened next?  October the First.  That's what happened next.  And what happened on the first day of October, you might be asking?  Well, I'll tell you.  The Federal government shut down.  The words that echoed the loudest was FURLOUGH all non-essential government workers, and CANCEL all leave (vacation time, for you civilians) until the government passes a budget.  This included sick leave, emergency leave, vacation, etc...  Well.  As Chester Riley used to say, "Ain't this a revolting development?" 
It turns out that I was an essential employee, so I was granted the honor of working without the promise of pay while President Obama continually repeated his determination not to negotiate with the Republicans.
I went to my boss, who was aware of my pending vacation in less than 8 days, and he said he would grant me a waiver because I was so heavily invested in the trip.  This is a good place to insert a plug for TRIP INSURANCE.  Don't leave home without it, especially if you are planning a 20,000 dollar European vacation.  And now, back to the story...  My boss told me that I could still go, but I would forfeit any back pay for my vacation time.  Well, this day just keeps getting better, eh?
Sarah and I discussed the situation over an empty box of Kleenexes and made a hard decision.  We did have trip insurance, but it was limited. It only covered a portion of the money we had already invested.  I could forfeit my pay or I could forfeit what I had already spent money on for the last year.  It was all sunshine and lollypops at my house that day!  Then, the rumor surfaced that Congress was going to pass an emergency relief bill to pay the furloughed employees, so we decided that we would roll the dice and hope for the best.  As I write these words, I am on a Delta flight and looking down at Lake Erie (I can type without looking at my fingers).  As of today, the bill hasn't passed, and I still don't know if I'm bankrupt.  I'll find out soon enough.  But let's get back to the trip before I digress any further.  Before I don't digress, let me take a moment and tell you that eventually congress and the President got together and agreed to create a continuing resolution, which paid all Federal employees for the time we were furloughed.  Just thought I'd get that out of the way.  And now I continue my review...in the next post!

The Wedding Log

Thank you for stopping by.  I know the last short story I offered was silly and less than entertaining.  But this story will not be silly.  But as for entertaining, you will have to determine that for yourself.  We all have dark recesses within us.  And Hans and Jennifer are now facing the darkness.  Share with me your reactions, if you would. -- Travis W. Inman
The Wedding Log
Hans rubbed his jaw and stared at the aspirin sitting on his breakfast plate, wishing he had some coffee to wash the pill down.  His unshaven face felt rougher than normal, but that seems to happen to him whenever he rolled around in his bed all night without sleeping properly.  He closed his eyes and exhaled slowly, hoping his headache didn't develop into a full blown migraine, but the tightness in his jaw foretold his future.
Finally, Jennifer filled his coffee cup and asked, "Did you find your pill?"
"Yes, thank you."  His German accent was hardly noticeable.  He was born and raised in the States; his father was the immigrant, not him.  But he still had a distant hint of his father's accent, especially when he was angry.  He reached for the aspirin and deliberately placed it on the back of his tongue, swallowing only when he had enough coffee to ensure the pill's safe delivery.  The bitter aftertaste seemed to suit him this morning.He tried to read his newspaper while Jennifer scuttled about the kitchen from the frying pan to the toaster, but even the morning comics seemed dull and flat.  Didn't they used to be funnier?  He missed the Far Side, which was always funny.  But now he was living in the far side, and it isn't as much fun when it's real life.
Jennifer refilled his coffee and asked through a thin smile, "Is the caffeine starting to help, Honey?"  Of course, she knew it wasn't going to help.  He rarely got himself so worked up—anymore.  He tossed all night, and the few times he drifted off he ground his teeth, making those horrible nut cracking pops.  All night long.  Neither of them got any rest.  She poured herself a cup and sat across from him.  It was her place to sit, as it always had been from their early years.  They sat with Cassie between them when she was first born, and they never altered their seating arrangements from that day forward.  She reflected over her coffee for a moment longer, and then returned to the stove top, where the ham slices were starting to crisp on the edge, just the way Hans liked them.
He fussed with the paper a moment longer and then seemed to lose the strength to hold it up, allowing it to crumple in his lap.  Jennifer refilled his cup again.  This was going to be a two pot morning.  She dropped the first egg into the skillet and reached for the second before cautiously asking, "So, what are you going to do today?"
The paper snapped back to attention.  "I'm not going to the wedding.  That's what I'm going to do today."  He crumpled the paper like an accordion and shoved it into Cassie's chair.
Jennifer knew the answer, but she needed to hear him say it.  How many days could he brew about the same thing?  It had been months now, and she was starting to worry that Hans was going to suffer a stroke from the anxiety, which he wore like a night shirt, keeping it close to his heart, from the day Cassie announced her wedding plans with Alex.  They feared the wedding announcement because they already knew she was dating Alex.  They'd heard the rumors coming to them from their friends that she had met someone—and they were serious. 
Jennifer knew Hans hated himself for insisting that she go to California to college.  He was so proud when his daughter was accepted into law school; he bragged to anyone who would listen about his soon-to-be-lawyer daughter.  Oh, they had their moments, but his pride in his daughter was a constant for him, even when she was "expressing herself" in her teen years.  Hans was a stubborn man, and he had his rules.  How often had she cringed when he would shout at Cassie, "My house!  My rules!"  Jennifer knew how Cassie felt trapped in her last few years of high school.  Hans felt it was his duty to interview his daughter's suitors, and wasn't beneath issuing mild threats about how those young boys were to treat his daughter. 
Cassie was just as stubborn.  In fact, they were peas in pod.  They loved each other, but they frustrated each other so much that their relationship was confusing to everyone.  And Jennifer always felt as though she was the referee, constantly tossing out a yellow penalty flag when one of them overstepped and said something noxious.  Jennifer had always managed to bring them back together.  She could handle Hans, for she was the love of his life, and she could handle Cassie, for Cassie was always her little girl.  And now her little girl was going to get married.  To Alex.
The day they met Alex was difficult.  Hans was overly stubborn that evening, even though they met at a neutral site, but Hans wasn't going to like anyone Cassie brought home.  Her choices just didn't suit him.  And Alex was never going to win his approval.  Jennifer had to admit that Alex was a difficult person to like, and she herself struggled at dinner that night, each person trying to be civil, showing plenty of teeth, but not many laughs.  Cassie insisted they meet Alex before the wedding, which they did.  Alex tried to be polite, but there was little hope for things to work out right.  Hans would never approve.  And that was not going to change.
Jennifer remembered how Hans had wept that night sitting in front of the TV.  The only other time she'd seem him so emotional was when his father died.  On both of those nights she held him while he sobbed, the tears were flowing freely.  He was grieving Cassie's wedding as if it were her funeral.  And as far as he was concerned it was her funeral.  "When your children are small, they walk on your toes," he lamented.  "But when they are grown, they walk on your heart," and then he wept until he had nothing left to cry with.  Hans seemed so pathetic that night and the very memory of it brought tears to her eyes today.  She knew he blamed himself.  Hans knew that he tended to push Cassie away.  He just didn't know how to be a father to a girl who was as bull headed as himself.  When a child makes bad choices because the parents made bad choices, the pain those parents feel…the regret…seems to be a sorrow that can't be soothed.  Regret can be a hard pillow at night.  Self inflicted wounds hurt the most, and they bleed the longest. 
Jennifer dropped two perfectly cooked eggs onto his plate, along with two slices of toast and a thick ham steak.  It was his breakfast for more than 25 years.  As always, he waited a moment until Jennifer had assembled her plate and settled into her chair before uttering grace.  But today, grace didn't seem genuine.  "Your brother isn't going to the wedding, either," Jennifer said casually.
He was busy slicing his eggs into tiny pieces.  "And he shouldn’t go.  It wouldn't be right."
"Do you realize that if we don't go, then no one from her family will be there?"
"How can we go?  How can we witness her marrying that…"  He reached for the salt and forced himself to relax.  "Alex is not fit for her to marry."
"Honey, I know.  I don't want her to marry Alex, either.  But she is going to do it, whether we like it or not."
Now the pepper.  "I wouldn't endorse her wedding under any circumstances.  They were sleeping together.  They were living together.  That…" his voice was hard, angry.  "That…"  He closed his eyes and practiced his counting technique.  "Alex had no business in her bed."
"I know," she said quietly.  "And I agree with you."
"It is sin," he said flatly.  "It is a horrible sin."  He lifted his fork and dripped egg yolk on the white table cloth.  "How can we show our faces at church?  What they have done is an abomination."  He looked down into his coffee.  "How can I endorse that?  Hmmm?  Tell me, how can I endorse an abomination?"
Jennifer buttered her toast.  "Hans, you can't endorse their sin.  I know that."  She took a small bite and placed it on her plate.  "I think only Alex's brother will be there.  And maybe some of her college friends."
"Well, I won't be there."  He waited for a response, but it never came.  For the first time since she sat down he looked directly at her.  "You aren't going to be there, are you?"  His concern was obvious.
Jennifer sipped her coffee before responding.  "She is my daughter, and I love her very much."He slammed his hand on the table, rattling the silverware.  "I love her, too!" he growled.  "But I can't endorse this disaster."
"I can't turn my back on her, even if I don't approve."
"Well," he said through a large bite of ham.  "As far as I'm concerned, she is no longer our daughter.  Not if she marries Alex today."
Jennifer reached for the salt.  "Is that so?"
He clinched his jaw and fought the tears.  "I have no choice.  She had deliberately turned her back on our family.  On our beliefs.  On our…faith."
"I don't think Alex will last long," She observed.
"It matters not.  Once she says, 'I do,' then I don't.  I don't want to see her again, or allow her into this house with that…"  His lips curled in frustration and he closed his eyes and breathed.  "They are not allowed into my house together.  Ever.  And that's final.  Do you understand?"
She swallowed her bite of eggs.  "Well, let's not make statements that we have to regret later."
"What else can I do?  I have to be true to my convictions."
"Hans, she is our daughter.  She is my little Cassandra.  She is your pride and joy.  How can you just shut her out?"
"This marriage is an abomination."
"Yes, you've established that.  But when I go to the wedding, I am not endorsing her choices; I am showing my love for my daughter."
Hans knew he couldn't stop Jennifer from going.  It would be futile for him to try.  They never had a relationship where he lorded over her.  He always respected her individuality, even though they were a very traditional family.  Honestly, he wasn't surprised that she was going to the wedding.  Finally he said, "Well, if Papa was still alive, this would kill him.  It would put him in his grave."
"Yes, I suspect you're right about that.  He was a very stubborn man."
"Jennifer," he said quietly.  "Please don't go to the wedding.  Please respect my wishes."
Jennifer was silent for a long moment while she spread jam on her toast.  "Hans, I do respect your wishes.  I am not endorsing her choices, or even saying that I'm okay with it.  But, she is my daughter, and I love her unconditionally."
"But our faith," he pleaded.  "What about our faith?"
"Yes," she redirected.  "What about our faith?"  She closed the jar in her hand.  "What about our faith tells you that you can demonstrate God's love by turning your back on them?  How does that reflect our faith?"
"No!"  He pointed at her.  "Do not twist this around!  Their sin is clearly sin."
"I know that.  And that is between them and God.  We are not the ones who died to forgive them, Hans.  Their sin is not against us, but it is against God.  And Jesus himself accepted sinners.  He sat with them, and He ate with them.  He didn't simply shut them out because they were sinners.  You're faith should reflect His values, not yours.  What would Jesus do, Hans?"
He poked the edge of his ham steak and didn't respond.
"By being at that wedding, we are not saying that we approve of her choices.  We are saying that we love our daughter.  She already knows that we disapprove.  But when we arrive, she will also know that we still love her."
"They are still not welcome in my home."  He was still angry.  "In fact, we are going to turn her bedroom into a sewing room.  You've always wanted a sewing room, and now you have one."
"We are not going to do that.  We aren't going to change anything for at least a year.  And you can get off of your pedestal, Mister.  You know good and well that if Jennifer and Alex knock on that door you will let them in."
"Well," he rubbed his jaw.  "They aren't sleeping together.  And I'm not budging on that."
"Fine."  She refilled both of their cups.  "Right now you are offended.  Right now you are upset.  And so am I.  But over the years God has changed who you are, just as He has me.  Neither of us were perfect when we got married…"
"But this is different."
She stood and looked down at him.  "You and I both know that we didn't wait for our wedding night."
Hans's cheeks flushed.  "Well…"
"We almost made it."  She smiled and shook her head.  "One night short.  If my mother knew!"  She blew into her coffee.  "We waited until the night before we were married.  Does that make us sinners?"
He sighed.  "Well, you have to understand…"
"No, Hans.  Did that make us fornicators?"
He squirmed in his chair.  "Yes.  And I have regretted that for all these years."
"And would my mother have allowed us to visit in her home if she knew?"
His voice was smaller.  "Not on your life.  But this is different."
"Sin is sin, Hans.  We made mistakes, and God gave us a clean start.  Cassie is making mistakes, but God can give her a clean start, also.  But she is much less likely to turn to God for help if we use our religion as a crowbar to wedge her out of our lives.  Why would anyone want to seek help from a God when we are demonstrating that kind of faith?  It is the goodness of God that leads us to repent, right?  Cassie knows what we believe.  We raised her with the same set of values.  We have to let God work on her in His own way.  And we will love her and support her, no matter what she does."
"But what if she robs a bank?  Hmmm?  What if she kills a nun?"
Jennifer rolled her eyes.  "Really?  Hans?  What would Jesus do?  He would love us, no matter what we did.  We are to follow His example and reflect His love.  And there is a big difference between faith and religion.  What you are demonstrating is religion.  And I know you better than that.  You are a better man than that.  You have deeper faith than that.  So don't let your emotions rule your faith."
"But…" he was stubborn to the end.
"But, what?  Hans, you love Cassie.  Don't you?"
A tear formed in his eye.  "Of course."  He allowed Jennifer to touch his eye with a napkin.  "But I don't love Alex."
Jennifer thought about that for a moment.  "Okay.  I don't like her either.  But we will both work on that.  And God will lead us through, right?"
He resigned with a heavy sigh.  She was right, and he knew it.  He placed his napkin on his plate and stood."Where are you going?  You haven't finished your breakfast."
"I need to polish my shoes.  The last time I wore them they got scuffed.  And Papa would roll over in his grave if I went to a wedding with scuffed shoes."

Stills is Right

"If you can't be with the one you love, love the one you're with."  Most of you will recognize these lyrics to a 1970 song written and sung by Steve Stills, of Crosby, Stills, and Nash fame.
I heard this song on the radio that other day, and like the theme song to the Brady Bunch, I can't seem to get it out of my head.  The song irritates me for a number of reasons, one of which is the thought it instills in me that you're not with the one you love.  Which seems sad.
 But, the more I thought about those lyrics, I realized that there is some value in what Stills was trying to say.  But, not in the romance department—in the thanksgiving department.  This is the holiday season, and I see so many people tweeting and offering Facebook thanksgiving thoughts and wishes to each other.  And then it occurred to me that none of our lives turned out exactly as we imagined, or even wished.  I was going to be an astronaut, or a fighter pilot, or a four star general, or Indiana Jones.  Most men will understand what I mean.  We all grow up with images of cowboys in gunfights, or soldiers storming the enemy, and we identify with those ideals, and desire to live them.  For women, I suppose it might be the Cinderella fairy tale wedding, complete with fairy dust and Prince Charming.  I sincerely doubt that any of us got exactly what we imagined—and that most of us got something entirely different.  After all, who plans on becoming a data input specialist or a paper salesman with Dunder Mifflin?  To those who managed to live your dream, I offer you hearty congratulations.  
But what about those who didn't get what they wanted?  Those who ended up marrying their worst enemy?  In those situations, I think Stills may have been on to something.  Love the one your with.  Your situation might not be ideal, but it is your situation.  Moaning and crying about it won't change anything.  You can't control many things, but you can control your attitude about your circumstances.  
Take me for example.  14 years ago I was bankrupt.  That wasn't one of my life goals, or, I suppose I should use the phrase, on my bucket list.  Nonetheless, I had to stand before a judge and have him dissolve all of my debts because I failed to live responsibly with my finances.  This isn't really something you want to write home about. Bragging about your shame never seems right.
But… Love the one your with.
I am thankful.  
No matter how bad your situation is, it could always be worse.  Maybe it's time to re-examine your life and find those things you can love.  You might not be living your dreams, but that doesn't mean you can't.  Maybe it's time to think about it this way: If you can't live the life you love, love the life you have.

Caitlin's Story -- The Abreviated Version

A little background:
I was in the Army and broke both my hips in a training exercise while I was still in boot camp.  This story happens while I was in recovery from that injury....

...I talked to Sarah every day from boot camp at Fort Benning, Georgia, asking about her and the baby; then I would hang up while she cried.  We weren’t expecting to have these problems.  I was only going to be in Georgia 13 weeks, but now I had been there for 8 months due to my broken hips, and had seen my wife only briefly.  In July, I convinced my 1st Sergeant to let me go home for the 4thweekend.  I spent 4 days looking at printouts of sonograms that showed our baby and hearing all about Sarah’s pregnancy.  At the airport, Sarah got mad and said, “I am tired of saying goodbye to you.”  Nobody more than me!  I had been living in the movie Full Metal Jacket for 8 months! Later the following month, Sarah called crying.  She had developed problems in her pregnancy; her blood pressure was rising.  I convinced her that it was no big deal, and that things would be okay.  That was in August, the 9th month of basic training.  Everyday, things became more complicated at home with Sarah.  She was continually having problems with the baby, and soon the doctors put her on bed rest.  I was beside myself. Not only that, my chain of command would neither let me go home to my wife nor would let her come to me.  I would hear her cry every time I called, which tore my heart out.  Then in September, on Labor Day weekend, I snuck home for a few days to see about Sarah.  My personnel supervisor told me that, if I got caught, it would mean I went AWOL, but to call and let her know how Sarah was doing.  When I got home, things were getting worse for Sarah.  All I could hear was her begging me not to leave her again.  She was scared that the baby was going to die and that I wouldn’t be there for her.  I couldn’t bear to leave her again, so I called my supervisor and told her that I was bringing Sarah with me.  She was a great supervisor, and quickly pulled some strings to get me permission to stay with Sarah at a hotel for 2 weeks while she rammed my discharge paperwork through the system.  After 2 weeks, we were on our own.  We managed to keep the chain of command from discovering our secret.  Then it happened.  Things got worse.On a Monday morning, Sarah discovered that the baby had stopped moving.  She was 28 weeks pregnant on that last Friday.  I took her to the hospital where they started running tests on her.  They quickly decided that Sarah was dehydrated and admitted her into the hospital.  They pumped IV fluid into her until I thought she would pop.  On Tuesday, they ran more tests and decided that the baby was not doing well at all.  Her heart rate was dropping, and Sarah’s blood pressure was going up.  Her body was trying to abort the baby.  On that Tuesday I had to tell my chain of command that I had my wife here with me, and that she was in the hospital.  They were mad, but let me have a few days off to be with her.On Wednesday, Sarah’s condition grew worse, and the baby’s heart rate was dropping fast.  The Army doctors were convinced that they could handle the situation, but truly, things were spiraling out of control.  The next sonogram was bad news.  The baby had stopped responding entirely, and was 6 weeks behind in her development.  Instead of developing to 28 weeks, the baby was 22 weeks developed.  After we prayed, the Army doctors turned us over to the neonatal hospital unit in Columbus, Georgia (for the Army to release you is a miracle in itself!).  Once there, the tests were underway, and the results were not desirable.  The specialist came in and sat down beside the bed.  Things were grim.  Sarah’s womb had developed a very rare condition; the blood flow to the baby had reversed and was flowing into the mother from the baby.  He told us that if they couldn’t fix the problem, then we would have to do an emergency cesarean.  On Thursday, I called home to Texas and told all of our families that we were about to have a baby; they all jumped into cars and started driving.  To make matters worse, Hurricane Georges was spinning in the Gulf around Mississippi, directly in their path of travel.  I settled in to watch the television, thinking that it might be a pleasant distraction.  However, the only thing on the news was Monica Lewinsky and President Clinton.On Friday morning, the baby’s condition grew worse; she was in bad trouble.  We would be introduced to our baby that very afternoon, 11 weeks early.  The Lord overwhelmed us with peace.  A gift of faith sustained us.  In fact, the staff often asked what was going on in our minds, but we had faith that God was in control.The doctor from the neonatal unit visited us.  He was concerned.  He had seen hundreds of babies come through his care.  He said that there was an 80% chance that she (the baby) would live.  He also told us of the strong possibility that she would be deformed or damaged in some way.  He said that we had some hard decisions to make.  I looked at him and said, “Sir, it doesn’t matter if the baby is born without a head, we will not abandon her, and we most definitely won’t abort her.  God gave her to us, and we will be grateful for his gift.”  The doctor smiled and patted me on the back.  He then suggested that I walk through the nursery and see what babies that small look like.  He said that I would be shocked to see this baby for the first time in the delivery room without some prior knowledge.  At that moment I became concerned.  What would she look like?  Would she be a monster?Well, I walked down, and a nurse escorted me through the nursery.  As I walked into the room, the first thing I heard was alarms going off, breathing machines humming, IV pumps buzzing, and a mother crying.  I tried not to appear disturbed, but babies were struggling to live underneath those incubators.  They were little tiny babies, not even big enough to live.  We were expecting our baby to be about 760 grams, about one pound, 11 ounces.  The nurse took me to a baby that was one and a half pounds, so I could get an idea what my child would look like.  I gasped when she pulled back the blanket covering that little boy.  He was so small and fragile that his skin was transparent.  I could see his heart beating inside his chest.  I could see his muscles flexing as he involuntarily jerked against the IV needle buried inside his leg.  His face was covered with a ventilator.  The nurse had a tear in her eye when she told me that he was a twin that was born at 25 weeks, and that he and his sister were fighting hard to live.  I left that nursery with a heavy heart, but I was ready to see God work on our behalf.  Admittedly, I was concerned that this baby was developed 2 weeks longer than mine, but was about the same weight.  What would my baby look like?That afternoon, they prepped Sarah for surgery and wheeled her into the operating room.  I was suited up like a doctor and joined her shortly.  They gave me a special chair next to her bed, and I held her hand as they started the incision.  I prayed and chatted, trying to keep Sarah from being overly concerned.  Three doctors from two different hospitals told us that our now 29-week-old baby had only developed to 22 weeks and only weighed 760 grams.  We were braced for whatever the Lord chose to lead us into.I will never forget the environment around us.  Thirty people were in the surgery room.  Six of them were doctors, and the rest were nurses.  To the left, a whole separate team waited with their incubator for the moment the baby was born.  Crash carts and emergency equipment were readily available.I can still hear her little squeak as she was pulled out of her mother’s womb and laid upon a cold metal table.  Sarah was dying to look at her, but I could see.  Sarah kept asking whether or not she was okay, but I had no answers.  What I saw was way too small to be my daughter…Little Caitlin Elizabeth Inman was born on September 25, 1998, at Columbus Regional Hospital, in Columbus, Georgia at 5:03 in the afternoon.  She weighed 940 grams, about 2 pounds, 1 ounce, almost 200 grams bigger than they thought!  Somehow between the sonogram and the surgery Caitlin had put on 6 ounces!  Truly God was working in our behalf!  We aren’t stupid people, so we immediately gave God the glory for answering our prayers to take care of our baby.The doctors said that Caitlin was doing well considering that she was born under such circumstances.  I left Sarah and walked over to the incubator, and saw my baby lying under the bright lights.  She had an IV in her head, but she was breathing on her own, something they didn’t expect to be possible.  I stared at her, but I can’t tell you what was in my heart.  A part of me was lying on that table, and a part of me was lying on that gurney having her womb sown back together.  But all of me was looking down at the gift God had given us, a beautiful little girl.  No matter how long she lived, she was my special baby, and my life would never be the same.  They let me hold her tiny hand when I stood over her.  My heart leapt out of my chest.  When they wheeled the incubator out of the room, I felt my first loyalty split.  Should I stay with my wife, or should I go with my daughter?My daughter?  Does that mean that I am now a father?  Wow, things can sure change fast in life.  I walked into the nursery where they were working on Caitlin.  I went and looked at her lying helplessly in that incubator….  I have to admit, my fragile heart was not ready to see my daughter seemingly tangled up in wires and tubes, IVs, and respirators.  She was by far the prettiest girl ever born, even though I couldn’t really see her.  Forty minutes after she was born, a very tired and disheveled entourage of grandparents stumbled into the door.  They didn’t stop once on their 18 hour journey and were dead tired, but full of excitement.  We gooed and gawed over our miracle baby, and were content for the moment.  Sarah settled in to recovering from her surgery after visiting the nursery in a wheel chair.  We sat and stared at our little girl and beamed with joy.The next morning, we got Sarah out of her bed and wheeled her down to the nursery.  Caitlin had done well through the night; in fact everything looked fine.  The doctors said that she was doing so well that all she needed was to put on some weight, and she could go home.  They said that if she would put on another 3 pounds, then she would be released.  Until then, she would remain under their care.  I was fine with that idea until I asked them how long it before she put on 3 pounds.Three months?  That is impossible!  Maybe 2 and a half, if everything goes okay.  Well, I was devastated.  Our world was falling apart around us.  We were along ways from home, the Army didn’t want Sarah to be in Georgia, and we didn’t have a place to live.  How could we afford 3 months of intensive hospital care?  Well, the only thing I knew was that God would make a way.That day passed and no problems looming over us.  Caitlin was doing so well that everyone was amazed.What really hurt my heart was the fact that we had a brand new baby but weren’t allowed to hold her.  We could sit and stare at her all day long, and we could hold her hand, but her existence was too fragile to be held.  In a rare way, not holding her was a mixed blessing.  After all, how do you hold something that small, with all the wires and tubes?  I was scared to pick her up, what if something went wrong?  What if I pulled some tubes out?  What if I looked into her ear and an elephant crawled out?  Okay, I can see that I was being a little ridiculous, but I was carrying a heavy stress load and everything seemed amplified.The next morning, the doctors were more concerned.  Caitlin was now having some problems with her stomach.  As of yet, she was not given anything to eat, as a precaution; but now there really might be a problem.  Her abdomen was slowly swelling, and it was painful to touch.  Earlier that day, we had walked into the nursery and saw that one of the beds was missing.  I asked what had happened to the baby, but the nurse whipped a tear from her eyes.  She told me that one baby died earlier that day.  “It’s hard,” she said, “but he had been dying for a week and we were expecting it.”  The baby had been born deaf and never heard his mother’s voice.  Can you find a better charity to give to than the Children’s Miracle Network?  Every since that day, I never asked where a baby was or what happened to his bed.On day three, Caitlin’s stomach was horribly swollen.  She was in deep trouble.  We called and activated the prayer chain.  Between all our churches, we estimate that upwards of 2,000 people were praying.  We went down to the cafeteria to eat hospital food.  Believe it or not, the food was better than anyone would ever believe.  After lunch, all of us parents and grandparents went back to the nursery.  I was shocked to see that Caitlin’s bed was gone!The nurse saw the look on my face and rushed to our side.  Everything was okay--they had only moved her to another room.  The doctor ordered a culture test and Caitlin showed positive for staff bacteria.  She didn’t have an infection, but rather, the possibility existed.  We gathered and held her little hands as she was wheeled off to the X ray department to see if they could find her stomach problem.  We didn’t wait long.  A portion of her small intestine was dying because of that negative blood flow in the womb, and would be removed.  Later that afternoon they started prepping our baby for surgery.  We gathered and prayed for our baby again.  While we were praying, one nurse got my attention and asked me, “Would you like to hold the baby?”  They wrapped Caitlin in swaddling clothes and handed her to me.  I was so scared to hold her, but when they turned off the lights in the nursery, Caitlin opened her eyes and looked at me for the first time.  I looked into her eyes and told her “goodbye” as they laid her back into the incubator and wheeled her off to surgery.  I can’t shake the horrible feeling I experienced that day, wondering if I would ever see her again, but trying not to cloud my mind with doubt.  We gathered in the surgery waiting room and waited.  We could not pray, or sit, or stand.  We could not eat or drink.  Okay, we ate Chikfile sandwiches and drank Cokes, but we were useless to the rest of the world.  The hours slowly walked by, the hours got to their knees and crawled, the hours got on the floor and slowly rolled past.  The surgery was to only last for 2 hours, but we were instructed not to get nervous if it took longer, even up to 4 hours.  After three hours, we turned on the TV and watched “Touched by an Angel.”  It was a great show about a cop that was hooked on drugs.After four and a half-hours, the doctors came and visited with us.  The chief surgeon said,  “She lost 6 inches of her bowels, but she has oodles left.”  (He was the first doctor that could speak good old American English.)  He assured us that she would recover nicely.  We stopped and praised God that things weren’t as bad as they first seemed.So much more of this story can be told, but for the sake of time, let me tell you that she recovered without too many problems.  Several times we were called at night telling us to run as quickly as we could, for our daughter was about to die.  God had mercy on us repeatedly; no better God or Father can be found than my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.Caitlin is now doing fine.  On September 25, 2013, she turned fifteen years old.  She is still way under the growth charts, but she is as healthy as any child can be, thanks be to God!
Note: IF you are interested in the rest of the story, including my efforts to walk again, you can read this story in its entirety if you search my earlier posts for Caitlin's Story.

Purgatory

Purgatory

“Okay, we go live in 3… 2….” Then the cameraman’s voice was silent and he pointed at the reporter.

“This is newswoman Shara Livingstone broadcasting live from Purgatory State Prison where Governor Smith announced two days ago, a shocking across the board pardon for all the inmates held here at Purgatory. The Governor stated that he loved the people in his state so much that he was compelled to offer blanket amnesty. The only condition to be released was that each prisoner had to ask forgiveness for his crimes, accept the pardon from Governor Smith, and live a life dedicated to fighting crime. Many prisoners have been set free over the course of the last two days and can be seen walking around the prison. However, we have just learned that many of the prisoners held in Purgatory Prison were refusing to leave their cells. Joining us now is Cell Block Lieutenant Imp, “Lieutenant, can you tell us what happening inside the cell blocks right now?”

Imp scowled a moment and then commented, “It seems that most of the prisoners refuse to leave their cells. They just won’t believe that they have been forgiven by the Governor.”

“What are they telling you? Have they offered a reason why the prisoners refuse to leave?”

“They know in their hearts that they don’t deserve to be forgiven, therefore they will stay in their cells.”

“But the Governor has made it easy to be released. Haven't they been told how easy it is to just leave their cells and never return?”

Imp scowled again. “Oh they were told. Some of the Governor’s men walked through the whole prison and made their announcement.”

“What were the reactions of the prisoners?”

“Most of them refused to believe their good luck. But then the first fellow tried his cell door and walked away. It was the dogonedest thing. His cell was locked and then he asked forgiveness for his crimes, and then the cell door just popped open. Heck, we didn’t want to let him go. We knew that fellow was a thief. But after he was given amnesty, there wasn’t anything we could do to keep him there. Some of the fellows tried to get him to denounce his amnesty, but that thief wouldn’t have any part of it.”

“Why would the guards try to keep him in there if the Governor set him free?”

“Well heck, they are guilty and don’t deserve to be set free. Besides, what will we do for jobs if all the prisoners leave the Purgatory Prison?”

Shara Livingstone turned and pointed at the large gothic prison to her right. “Lieutenant, you have agreed to escort us through the cell block. Shall we begin our tour?”

“Might as well. Okay, you go through this here door and you will be inside of Cell Block One.”

“Shouldn’t the door be secured? It’s wide open.”

“The Governor ordered us to open the prison doors. We argued that all the prisoners would leave, but surprisingly, they ain’t left yet. We just keep on doing our jobs. As long as they refuse to leave, then we can keep on getting paid.”

“But don’t you care that their debts against society have been forgiven?”

“So long as it serves my purpose, I don’t care.”

“Okay, I’m now standing inside Cell Block One. Behind me and to my right are many rows of cells. You can see that bars separate and define one cell from the other. My first reaction to this prison is the smell. Lieutenant, can you tell me what that horrible smell is?”

“That is their own filth. All the garbage that they brink with them and all the sewage that they generate here. We don’t offer any toilets or showers here.”

“Isn’t that inhumane?”

“What do I care? So long as I have a job…”

“As I continue walking along, I am stunned by how dark it is here in Purgatory Prison. In fact, the further I go inside these walls, the brighter the light from the doorway that is the only opening to the outside. Lieutenant, why is it so dark in here?”

“Oh that serves several purposes.” He held up a finger as if to count. “For one, they can’t see all the filth that they are living in. B, if they are in the dark, they are easier to control. They don’t go getting a lot of ideas on their own. And third, as long as they can see that light, but can’t get to it, they stay miserable.”

“You sound like you want them to suffer.”

“They are guilty. Ever one of them deserves the death penalty. I hate to see them set free. They don’t deserve it.”

“But the Governor chose to forgive them. Shouldn’t you help them find that light?”

“Oh, they were told about that light. It’s up to them to choose to walk out of their prison. Some of them shout for joy and run out of here like a bull coming out of the chute havin’ just been branded.”

“Is that a prisoner in that cell there?”

“Yes ma’am, it is.” He hit the bars with his night stick. The prisoner flinched as the sight of the night stick. “Hey you! Get over here and talk to this reporter.”

The prisoner obediently stood to the bars. “Yes sir.”

“We have just been told that the Governor has granted you your freedom. All you have to do is accept the amnesty that was offered you. Why haven't you left?”

“Well, I don’t believe in the Governor.”

“Excuse me?”

“I don’t believe that the Governor exists.”

“Well that is ridiculous. Look around you. Can’t you see what the Governor has built here? This building had to have been built by the Governor. It was designed to be a prison.”

“No. It was here before I was born. I didn’t see anyone build it. As far as I’m concerned, this building has always been here.”

“But I hold in my hand the decree stating your freedom.”

“Okay, I’ll play your game. If you can make the Governor appear before me, then I will believe that he exists.”

“Well, I have no control over the Governor. Who am I to make him come and appear to you?”

He shrugged and smiled smugly at her.

“But didn’t you hear about the amnesty? Don’t you want to be set free from your prison?”

“No. This is the only life I know. From this comfortable room I have everything I need. Besides, if there is no Governor, then I don’t have to leave my cell.”

“So, you are choosing to stay here, even though you have been offered amnesty?”

“Isn’t that what I have been saying all along?”

“Yes, in fact it is. I just don’t understand it.” She turned to continue on her journey and the man grabbed a hold of the bars and shouted out at her. “Tell me this, misses Smarty Pants, who made the Governor? Huh? Tell me that?” He laughed at her.

The Lieutenant rapped his fingers with his baton and the man shrunk back into the darkness.

“Lieutenant, who is the man in the cell next door?”

“Hey you, get up and come here.” He beat the bars wickedly. “This is one of our best prisoners.”

A prisoner stood before them with tear-stained eyes. He refused to look at them and stared down at the floor.

“My name is Shara Livingstone and I want to know why you haven’t accepted the amnesty offered by the Governor.”

“I don’t deserve any amnesty. I am a very bad person. I deserve to be in this cell.”

“It doesn’t really matter how bad you were. The Governor has chosen to forgive you.”

“I know, but I just don’t deserve it. You have no idea how bad I was. The Governor could never forgive my crimes. I want to stay here.”

“But the amnesty is all encompassing. None of you deserve it; it is a gift to you. Why don’t you accept this gift?”

“Well, I know that part of the requirements is that you have to turn away from a life of crime. I can’t do that. I am too bad. I don’t deserve to be set free. I’m just too bad.”

“Thank you for your time.” The prisoner sadly turned from the bars and heaved gasping cries of sorrow from deep within his chest. He crumpled down on the filth and wept bitterly.

Shara watched him in amazement. “Lieutenant, who is in the next cell?”

“This joker is a nut case. The psychologist says that he is sane, but the guy just doesn’t make any sense.”

A man was standing at the bars when she stopped in front of him. “How do you do?”

She politely nodded to him. “Sir, I have a few questions about your life here in the prison…”

“What prison?”

“This prison. The one we are standing in.”

“I don’t know about you, but I’m not is a prison.” He looked at over to Imp. “Hey, Lieutenant, where did you scare this woman up?”

“Shut up and answer her questions so I can go back to my work.”

The man smiled warmly. “His bark is worse than his bite. So, what did you want to know?”

“The Governor has just announced amnesty to all the prisoners. Why haven’t you accepted his generous offer?”

“I don’t know what you are talking about. The Governor I know would never build a prison. He is a good man. He is a very loving Governor and would never impose on any of us.”

“But sir, you are in a prison that was built by the Governor.”

“Nonsense. I voted for the Governor. I chose him to oversee us. The man that I chose would never put anyone in a prison.”

“Oh yeah?” A gruff voice in the next cell yelled out. “I don’t even believe that the Governor is knowable.”

The man Shara was interviewing waved him off. “Don’t pay any attention to him. It is amazing how it’s human nature to assume that because we believe or don’t believe something, then that makes it true. This joker doesn’t believe in gravity either. Even though he can feel the effects of gravity, he refuses to believe in gravity. I keep telling him that gravity exists where he believes it or not. The Governor is knowable. I know him. I voted for him. And the man I voted for would never put any of us in a prison.”

“Oh yeah?” Another man yelled at them several cells down. “I read that amnesty announcement and I didn’t understand it.”

“Well, I read it,” a different man yelled back. “And it had a contradiction in it. Therefore, it can’t be right. Besides, one of the Governor’s aids wrote the document for him, it’s not really from the Governor himself. There, I have proven that amnesty is a fraud!”

Shara Livingstone walked several cells down and saw a man sitting on the floor with his feet crossed. “Sir, may I ask you some questions?”

“I already know that you want to ask about the so called amnesty.”

“Yes that’s right. What do you think of the amnesty?”

“It doesn’t really matter. This prison is nothing more than a metaphor about life. Besides, I believe that when I die, I will be set free from this prison. I have lived a good life and what comes around goes around.”

“But sir, you can get out now without having to die.”

“I used to be a thief, but now I live by the golden rule. If I can continue to live a good enough life, then I will make it out of here when I die.”

“Thank you.” She walked a few doors down. “How about you, sir? Don’t you want to get out of this prison?”

“Sure, some day. When I’m older. I’m not through living here yet. But before I die, I plan to take the amnesty and get out. But for now, I’m just having too much fun. Besides, I don’t want to become a puppet for the Governor.”

“Thank you.” She turned to the Lieutenant. “I have time for one more interview. Let’s go to that man standing over there. “Excuse me, I have a few questions about the amnesty announcement made a few days ago.”

“Yeah? What do ya want to know?”

“Why haven’t you accepted the freedom and walked away from your prison cell?”

“Are you trying to make me feel guilty by representing the Governor? I don’t appreciate your attack on my personal beliefs. Who are you to judge me?”

“I’m not judging you; I only want to know why you haven’t taken the opportunity to leave your prison.”

“Well, there is a truth that works for you and a truth that works for me. My own personal truth tells me that I can live right here if I want to. You can’t force your truth on me. That violates my personal space and my personal beliefs. Who are you to come and try to condemn me? Now leave me alone.”

Shara turned away from the cell and began to walk with Lieutenant Imp back toward the exit. “I didn’t realize how far we walked into the prison. It is so dark and foul in here.”

“Yep, but that’s how I like it.”

“Isn’t it amazing how bright the light is from the exit door? It’s almost blinding.”

“Yes it is. I like the darkness better. It’s just too bright outside.”

“Hey, who is that walking around here in the cell block? Is it the prisoners?”

“Well, sort of. These people here stepped out of their cells, but refuse to actually walk into the light. They just love the darkness too much to leave it. What’s more remarkable is that they think that they are free. But they still live in all this filth like the men in the cells.”

“I need to talk to one of them.” She stopped a man that was wandering in the darkness. “Excuse me sir, but I have a question for you about the amnesty.”

“Sure, go ahead. That’ my favorite topic. I love to talk about the Governor. After all, he set me free.”

“But have you really been set free? You are still living within the walls of the prison.”

“I have been set free. There is no doubt.”

“Yet you are still here in the cell block. Why don’t you move on into the light and out of this prison?”

“I’m not in the prison. I am free. Sometime I do go near the light and walk around outside. But, this is where my home is and my friends live here also.”

“But I have been outside, and it’s clean and free outside. Why make your home here?”

“Oh, when I went out there, they wanted me to go and tell others about how the Governor set me free. It just seemed like they were expecting too much of me.”

“That is part of the condition for release, to live a life that directly opposes crime.”

“Well, I didn’t want all my friends to make fun of me. It was just too uncomfortable. I tried it out, but it just didn’t work for me. So, I came back in here where all my friends are.”

“Thank you.” She turned to the camera. “I would not have believed it if I hadn’t seen it myself. These prisoners all have different reasons for choosing to remain here in Purgatory State Prison. Despite the fact that none of their reasons or excuses make sense, they are content to live a life of filth and squalor rather than a life of freedom and responsibility. This has been Shara Livingstone reporting live. Now back to you…”

ACES

Please note- This story is a work of fiction for entertainment purposes only, and is not intended to relay spiritual truth or establish any doctrinal statements.



 ACES
Steve stepped with trembling feet onto the edge of the Bellagio Hotel and failed to notice the chaos of the Strip below him.  Las Vegas had billed itself as the homeland of anonymity; the city guaranteed that your secrets would stay there.


If only that were true.


His heart burned deep in his chest, forcing anxiety to manifest in the form of self destruction.  He lived with his secrets as long as he could.  He couldn't go on.  He was determined to jump.


"God," he whispered.  "I don't know if You care, but I'm at the end.  I'm too ashamed to go on.  I wish it was different, but I can't undo the past.  Please forgive me for what I've done and for what I'm about to do."   He tapped his pocket, guaranteeing that his backup plan was in place.


There.  He'd made as much peace with God as he could.  Now the only thing that remained was to jump.
----------------------------------------------------------- The Heavenly call center was an apiary of activity with angels buzzing back and forth dispatching answers and help in response to the prayers of both the saints and sinners on Earth.  Harney looked down from his supervisor window with satisfaction.  His troops were functioning with their A game.  They were always quick to respond once the orders were cut. 
           
"Now where is Athaneal?" he asked himself.  "Etta is supposed to be helping Athaneal with his orientation."  He referenced his schedule and remembered.  She was showing him the Intake Center.


Athaneal watched the prayer intake board light up with new requests.  "Brilliant," he exclaimed.  "It is almost as bright as the light coming from the Throne." 
           
Etta smiled.  The first time visit to the Intake Center was always inspiring.  "As each prayer is logged," she explained, "a single light burns, which prompts the Gopher Angels to forward the request to the processing center…"


"Gopher Angels?" he interrupted her.  "I'm unfamiliar with that designation." 


"Oh, you know.  They're Gophers."  She smiled eagerly, but he didn't get the joke.  "You know, they go for this, and they go for that…  Get it?"


Athaneal grinned brightly.  "Right, ho!"


"Imagine a type of prayer triage, if you will.  Once the prayers arrive at the center, they are sorted by the angels according to content.  You already know what happens to the prayers of gratitude and elation, right?"


"Oh yes!  Those go straight away to the Jumbotron, which reflects off the Crystal Sea!  It's very exhilarating."


Etta turned to the left.  "The prayers of petition, so called because they don't require an emergency response, are placed on a conveyer belt, where they are processed according to the time schedule approved by the Lord."  They moved farther along the work center floor.  "The prayers of great stress but low urgency are coded with green lights.  Do you know what those are?"


Athaneal held up his manual.  "Yes.  These prayers were uttered by people experiencing a large and sudden dose of fear or stress, but the situation resolves itself of its own accord."


"Very good.  For example, Cindy, who is susceptible to peer-pressure, allowed her school friends to taunt her onto a roller coaster, which terrified her.  She prayed the entire ride, but the situation resolved itself when the coaster rolled to a stop and the bar lifted."  She pointed across the length of the hall.  "That is where we are going next.  The Agent of Change Engagement Center."


"ACES," Athaneal whispered.  "Hold up, I have a question.  We refer to the Center as ACES, but there is no S in Center."


"Before the Great Flood, there were only a few hundred thousand people on Earth, and this was just a station.  As the population grew, the station was too small and it became a center."  They walked into the ACES hall and stopped for a moment to enjoy the grandeur.

Harney joined them and dismissed Etta to her regular duties.  "I will take over the tour now, Athaneal.  Do you understand everything?"


"Oh yes.  It's absolutely fascinating!"


 "Right on, then."  He began walking under the display screen.  "The prayers seeking repentance or salvation are coded orange until the praying human is comforted, at which time the light turns blue, and then falls into the sea.  The prayers of urgency are labeled Code Red.  Once the Code Reds are answered by the Lord…"


"Which actually happens before the prayer is uttered!" Athaneal interjected eagerly.  "It's so cool!"


Harney smiled.  "Code Reds are sent to the dispatch center, where the operator on duty activates an Agent of Change, or an ACE, for short."


"An ACE is often a Christian—or the nearest operative, who will fulfill Heaven's response." 


"And it all occurs at light speed!"  Athaneal was excited to be part of the team.


"Yes it does!" Harney was proud of his job and his troops.  "No prayer too small!" was his team's motto.  "Alright, I'm going to set you at this station.  You are next to Etta, who can help you if you get in trouble.  Godspeed."



Harney strolled the floor watching his dispatch team receive requests and activate the proper ACE.  He leaned over Etta's station and motioned for Athaneal to join him, "This is a good example here of basic ACE management.  Watch how Etta handles this situation.  I'll be in my office should you need assistance."


Timmy, one particularly needy boy on Earth, was always getting himself in trouble, but he knew how to get out of it.  He was a frequent requestor, and his name came up often.  Today, he was stuck in a well, and the only ACE available was his dog.  Fortunately, the dog was very gifted with rescues, and he was able to summon Timmy's dad to lower a rope into the well and fetch the poor boy.


Harney watched as Athaneal returned to his station.  He would do fine.  He was certainly eager enough, and he would have Etta nearby in case of any problems.    


The only time Harney felt stress himself was when his team activated an ACE, but the ACE was reluctant to respond, or too involved in his or her own life to react.  That is why he was often forced to dispatch a pet, most often a dog, (cats are notoriously reluctant to be helpful) because the humans were too busy to be helpful.

One orange bulb lit up and was immediately forwarded to his team.  Some lost soul was crying out for God to save them.  Etta received the request and her nimble fingers hit the keyboard as she located the nearest operative.  She was looking for a harvester.  She activated her microphone and said, "Chaplain Smith to the OR waiting room, Penson Memorial Hospital.  Look for an aged man with a brown sweater, who is wringing his hands with great urgency.  He has called out to God that if He will save his wife's life, he will surrender his own in repentance.  This situation has been forming for 63 years, and he has finally surrendered his life to Jesus."  Harney watched as the orange light slowly faded to blue, and a cheer when up throughout the call center.  Another soul was saved!  What a great way to start his shift!

Harney watched as a red light flashed on the display, and then began pulsing between red and orange.  He leaned forward.  This light meant trouble.  Something was going on, and if it wasn't handled properly, it could end in disaster.  He scanned the floor to see which angel was next in the rotation and his heart sank.  Athaneal.  He came to them from the heavenly choir, but after some unfortunate developments, he became an Angel Junior Grade, of the 3rd Phalanx, 15th Cohort, and was transferred to Harney's company.

As rapid as a courser Harney flew from the window and landed behind Athaneal's station.  "What is it?"


"Well, sir.  It appears that Steve is in a conflict.  He wants to commit suicide, but he doesn't really want to die."  Athaneal glanced at Harney through the corner of his eyes.  "What am I supposed to do?"


"You fix it!  Don't be an oocephalus, Athaneal.  We don't have time for that."

"Ah gee.  You don't have to be so mean."  He looked down at his keyboard.

Harney frowned.  "Yes, you're quite right.  I didn't mean to call you an oocephalus.  Let us put this unpleasant business behind us and move on, shall we?"  He watched Athaneal for a moment, who didn't respond.  "Now get to it.  Find an ACE."

"I don't know what to do, sir.  He is praying that God allows him to die, but he doesn’t really want to die.  Which one am I supposed to answer?"


Harney growled.  "Read the orders.  The Lord answered his prayer.  Read what it says."

Athaneal glanced through the orders and sighed.  "This says for me to activate an Agent of Change."


 "Yes, go on then.  Activate an ACE.  Who is the closest?"


 Athaneal appeared pained.  "It also says to active a specific ACE."


 "Well, get to it."

"But sir, the ACE isn't anywhere around.  He's in Colorado on a ski slope."

 "And where is your petitioner?"


"Gosh, he's in Las Vegas."

 "Oh.  Well, that explains the suicide!  Don't just sit there staring at me.  Get it done."  The blank look on Athaneal's face told Harney everything he needed to know.  He sighed deeply and said, "Very well.  Tell me what's happening?"


 "Well, sir. Apparently the petitioner is in distress over the condition of his pockets and is in so much pain he wants to die."


"His pockets?"  Harney thought for a moment.  "We know he's in Las Vegas, right?  Where exactly is he?"


 "He's standing on the top of the Bellagio Hotel.  I think he might jump."


"Dear me."  Harney looked at the screen.  "Yes, he appears to be rather unstable.  He's holding his face as if in torment. Poor chap.  He looks like the subject of a Salvador Dali painting."  A shiver ran down his back.  "And what's this about your ACE being in Colorado?"


"The orders are specific.  It has to be Joe.  And Joe is in Colorado on a ski slope."


"We must get them together.  Make it happen.  Chip, chop.  No time to waste."

 Athaneal didn't move.  "But sir?  How?"

 Harney wanted to be angry, but he remembered that Athaneal had only been at this post for a few hundred years.  He was still an intern.   "Allow me to help you, and then you can do it on your own, next time.  Right?  Let's see what resources we have here.  Go on, scoot over and let me have a go at the computer."  His fingers were a blur as he tapped on the key board.  "First, we must get a plan together.  What is your petitioner's name?"


"Steve."




 "Very well then, Steve it is. And the ACE is who?"


  "J-J-J-Joe," he said hesitantly.


  "What is it?" he asked impatiently.


   "There is a notation that we've had to use Joe before.  His file was flagged."

 "And?"

"And Joe is a reluctant ACE.  He doesn't like people.  He sort of has a history."


  "Out with it.  We haven't got all day."


"He was an Army surgeon who was arrested and dishonorably discharged when he punched the general's wife in the jaw at the Christmas party."


"Hmmm.  And then?"


"And then he was forced to work in third world countries because he couldn't get a job in the States.  He grew bitter and now he hates people.  He wants to be left alone."


"But you've used him before?"

"Yes.  He was dispatched to help a woman who was having a heart attack."


  "Did he save her?"

Athaneal nodded slowly.  "He mostly saved her."

"And how does one mostly save someone?"

"Well, he saw her heart go into defibrillation and backed his car over a telephone pole, knocking the pole over, sending the transformer to the ground, which shocked the woman and caused her heart to beat again."


 "See?  That sounds like a problem solved."


 "Except she sustained electrical burns over 15% of her body, and the downed power pole caused the black out of Las Angeles in 2005, and subsequently the rolling blackouts of the Western seaboard."


 "Oh, yes."  Harney certainly remembered that day.  It was their busiest shift since the end of WWII.  "Nonetheless, the Lord orders that ACE Joe is the man.  We must make that happen."


"How, sir?  They are in entirely different states."

Harney cracked his knuckles.  "We had better get to it, eh?  Let's see now.  First, we need to get Steve off the roof of the Bellagio."            
   
 "I don't think that will be a problem."

"Why?"


"Because he's about to jump right now!"

Harney nodded.  "That will make it easier.  It's a good thing we have the speed of light on our side!  Now, the Bellagio is the hotel with the lake in front and the spectacular water shows with fountains, right?  So, we set off the fountains at just the right angle and then, presto!" 

Athaneal sat up straighter.  "Incredible!  You just hit him with a blast of water that pushed him higher into the sky and he landed on the crane where they are building the hotel next door.  Now what?"


 Harney smiled.  "Now we need a construction worker to see him and lower him to the ground."

 "There," Athaneal pointed eagerly.  "That guy is looking up at him."

"Okay, that gets him on the ground.  Let's switch over to our ACE, Joe.  He's on a ski slope in Colorado?  Ah, there he is.  He's in the middle of that blizzard and is huddled up in the search and rescue line shack on the top of the slope.  So, he's an emergency worker, eh?  I thought he was on vacation.  This is much easier.  Here's what we do:  He needs to hear someone calling for help, which will get him outside on his skis."  He looked at Athaneal.  "Have something start making a noise that will get his attention."

Athaneal nodded and pressed a button.  A mountain lion crawled out of a tree and perched herself on a windswept ledge and began crying into the darkness.

 "Well done," Harney bragged.  "A mountain lion's cry is often confused for a woman in distress.  That will get him outside the shack.  Yes, there he goes!  Just like clockwork."


"Now what, sir?"

"Now we need to get Joe to the bottom of that mountain.  Can you have the cat lead him through the forest and over to that ridgeline?"


"Yes, sir.  Won't take but a moment to do so."


"And by now, Steve is on the ground with the construction crew trying to explain how a burst of water caught him and pushed him into the crane on their construction site.  We need to convince them that Steve is 51-50."


"51-50, sir?"


"Yes, you remember our code for whacko?  If they think Steve is bonkers, they will call for an ambulance to take him to the hospital.  After all, who would believe that a burst of water would land him on a crane like that?  So, we have an ambulance team who is already there and ready to go."


"But sir, those paramedics are on vacation from Idaho."

"They are not on vacation, they are getting their CEU's by attending a mock disaster drill, and they will be ecstatic to be doing anything but that.  Have you ever had to endure continuing education courses?  They're miserable."  He keyed his microphone, "Boundary County Idaho ambulance respond to construction site next to Bellagio, where you will transport Steve to another location."

Within a minute, an ambulance from North Idaho rolled onto the scene and after a brief examination, loaded Steve into the back of the unit and began driving.


"Now, the fun part," Harney said with a smile.  "We need to direct that ambulance to Page, Arizona."


"Page, sir?"

Harney nodded.  "Try to keep up, Athaneal.  We are going to have both parties meet at Page, Arizona."

"What's in Page?"

"Nothing much, really.  Just Lake Powell, I suppose.  And Antelope Canyon, if you're into that kind of thing.  Anyway, that's about halfway between them, and there is a really nice hamburger joint there called Bonkers.  How are we doing with that cat?"


"Joe is almost to the ridge now.  He's starting to think that he's chasing a ghost."

"That's fine."  He keyed his microphone again.  "Search and Rescue Helicopter One, report to the top of the ridge near Pagosa Springs, keep your eyes open for a skier searching for a lost woman.  Skier will need transport upon your arrival."  He looked at Athaneal's screen.  "How are you doing with your rerouting?"

"Fine, sir.  The CSI television show is filming in the area and have a large section of the road blocked off.  I've been adjusting their GPS to take them around the blockage.  They will arrive on Interstate 15 any minute now, and for some reason they will hang a left instead of a right.  It actually helps for them to be visiting from another town.  Otherwise, they would know how to get around my road blocks."

"Excellent work!  Now my helicopter is landing and Joe is explaining that he needs to use the helicopter to search for the woman.  And now they are in the air.  Good.  Now I need to order an incredibly stiff wind from the east to blow them off course."  He typed a moment longer, and then sat back.  "Their next stop will be Page, Arizona.  We need to get things set up at Bonkers.  Any ideas, Athaneal?"

"Well, sir.  We could get out a bunch of free meal coupons and distribute them to the proper players."

"And how do you propose we make that happen?"

"How about a trivia game on the radio?  Human love to brag about how much they think they know.  Especially about movies!"

"Genius, Athaneal.  Just genius.  Make it so."

Athaneal keyed his microphone and put on his best DJ voice, "Hello all you dogs and cats out there in radio land, this is Athaneal, your voice in the sky, coming to you live on K-I-N-G radio with a fantastic opportunity to receive a free meal from, are you ready for this?  BONKERS!  All you have to do is text the proper answer to HEAVEN.  The first, fourteenth, and twenty second responders will win a free meal at BOOOONKERS, good for this night only.  So don't delay!  Are you ready for your question?  Here it is:  What 1945 movie was known as the film that ruined Jack Benny’s career?  If you know the answer, text it to HEAVEN.  Good luck and Godspeed."

Athaneal's panel lit up with eager text messages.  "Yes," he announced.  "That did it.  As soon as I have texted the coupon code back to the winners, we should be ready for the participants to arrive."

Harney nodded.  "Yes, I've been blowing this helicopter all over northern Arizona trying to get him lined up on Page.  He should be there in less than 10 Mikes."

Athaneal said, "The lost ambulance just won a free meal at Bonkers, so they are going to stop for a bite to eat before continuing on their wild goose chase."

Harney rose from his chair.  "I often forget how much fun this job can be.  What do you say we take our break right now and pop in on the activities below?"

Athaneal eyed him warily.  "Is that allowed?"

"Well, I'll make an exception, just this once."  He looked his trooper over.  "You'll need to change if you're going with me."

"What century is it down there?"

"They just started the second millennium a few years ago."

"Oh, then I'll just don this robe.  Everyone will think I'm a Jedi Knight wanna be."

"Good idea.  I'll do the same, and everyone will think I'm a wizard from Middle Earth."

"Or Hogwarts!" Athaneal snorted, and they laughed together.

Bonkers was busy.  Locals and tourists alike loved to stop in for some excellent burgers and quality Italian food.  After being eyed suspiciously by their waiter, the two angels were taken to their table, where they left their hoods covering their heads.  "What's good here?" Athaneal asked Harney. 

"I think the chicken parmesan is wonderful, but the chicken Italia gets good reviews as well."

"It's so hard to decide," Athaneal complained when the waiter appeared for the fifth time after being told that they only needed a few more seconds to decide.  "When you only eat once ever decade or so, it's hard to make a snap decision."

"Look," the waiter replied impatiently.  "I have a whole restaurant of important guests tonight.  I really need you to order something or you two can take a hike."

"Oh…" Athaneal was feeling the pressure.  "Then just give us two orders of Bonker's Cheesy Fries."

The waiter resisted the urge to scowl at them and quickly disappeared around the corner while murmuring, "Last of the big spenders."  

Harney pointed.  "Look, there comes Steve now."

"The whole ambulance team is still with him?"


"Those guys live in a place where there aren't a lot of restaurant choices.  I thought it would be a treat for them to hang out for a little while longer."

"So, Steve will have a table next to Joe?  Is that the idea?"

"Yes.  That method works really great.  Humans run into old friends in a restaurant all the time without realizing that Heaven actually orchestrated that event.  They'll automatically assume it was a coincidence."

"Gosh, they really are naive, eh?"

"Why are you suddenly talking like a Canadian, eh?"

"Shhh," Athaneal whispered.  Here comes the rest of the party.

"Good, they are being seated next to the others.  Perfect.  I love it when a good plan comes together."

Steve, who had been staring at his menu for the last few minutes, suddenly looked up to see Joe staring at him.  He watched the man for several seconds before it dawned on him that he recognized him.  That was Joe Ponska, his Army buddy—well, associate, from years before.  Joe was an oral surgeon who was deployed with him many years ago in Iraq.  They worked together for their entire tour.  The last time he saw Joe was… and then he remembered.  His glance suddenly faded into the floor, and he prayed dearly that Joe hadn't recognized him.

Joe, who immediately noticed Steve, sat simmering in his booth, wishing he had the freedom to throttle Steve, who abandoned him—left him holding the bag—all those years ago.  He'd dreamed so often of what he would do to him if ever given the opportunity.  He hardly noticed the older couple sitting down between them.

The man and his wife sat awkwardly in their chairs.  They were accustomed to finer dining than Bonkers.  But they did win that free meal on the radio.  Who would have thought that knowing about the movie The Horn Blows at Midnight would ever benefit them?  "Well, dear," Peter asked.  "What do you think?  Should I go with the New York Strip, or the rack of ribs?"

"Oh no, Darling.  You should never eat ribs this late at night.  You'll be up all night looking for the Alka-Seltzer's if you do."

"What looks good to you, Samantha?"

"Oh, I will either have the Seared Ahi Tuna, or the Idaho Trout."

The Boundary County ambulance crew overheard her say Idaho Trout and immediately began to advise her on her diner selection.  "Ma'am, if you don't mind me saying so, I'd go with the Idaho Trout.  We're all from Idaho and there's two things Idaho is famous for.  Trout is one of them.  We're mighty proud of our fish up there."


"Oh, my!" Samantha managed to smile.  "You have certainly influenced my decision.  Thank you so very much."  She glanced at Peter.  "Don't you appreciate the help these men have offered?"

Peter rolled his eyes and folded his menu, forcing himself to look at the table of Idaho emergency workers.  "Yes, there is no way to express my appreciation for your insights…" and then his eyes met Steve's, and just as Steve, his eyes immediately went to the floor, praying that he had not been recognized.  But it was too late.  The wheels of destiny were already turning.

Samantha noticed her husband's sudden change of mood and glanced at the Idaho boys quizzically.  When she saw Steve, her jaw fell.  "Why, it's that…"

Peter was suddenly on his feet.  "Come on, Samantha, no free meal is worth this much trouble."

Steve, feeling the pressure building from a wound many years old, stood to his feet.  Sudden movement to his left caused his eyes to shift.  Joe was now on his feet as well.  And if the others were shocked, Joe was angry.  A storm was brewing, and Hurricane Joe was about to land.

Samantha followed Steve's gaze and when her eyes landed on Joe's square jaw, her face drained of all color.  "Oh dear…"

Peter moved fast for an ageing gentleman and placed himself between Joe and Samantha.  He locked in on Joe and said, "We want no trouble."

Joe growled at him.  "I've waited an entire lifetime for this moment."

Steve snapped into action and positioned himself between the belligerents.  "Now hold on a minute, gentlemen.  There's no need for violence."

Joe pressed closer.  "There is every need for violence.  I've wanted a piece of him for so long I can taste it."

Athaneal watched the chaos unfolding across the room and asked, "What's happening?  How does this situation resolve a prayer request?"

Harney inhaled deeply.  "Well, it's like this:  Years ago, Joe was an oral surgeon in the Army and Steve was his nurse.  They worked very well together, and they did a lot of good healing soldiers who were injured during the war.  Joe was able to repair a lot of dental damages done when a soldier suffered a head wound.  He helped a lot of soldiers get back on their feet.

"Peter, there, was the commanding general of his post.  Peter was the man in charge, and he didn't need or desire anyone's help when it came to managing his post or his troops.  Samantha, his wife, came to their camp in Iraq with an USO tour.  One day, the actors and singers with the tour were visiting the injured soldiers.  Samantha was with them.  They went from bed to bed and shook every soldier's hand.  One soldier recognized Samantha as the Commanding General's wife and thought it would be funny to give her a gift.  It was a live grenade, and the only thing that had to happen was to pull the pin, and it would explode.  Samantha never imagined that it wasn't a dummy grenade, so she was walking around playing with it.  Joe and Steve noticed what she was doing, and Joe tried to get the grenade out of her hand.  She wasn't interested in surrendering her new play pretty to anyone.  She was only playing when she did it, but she reached up to pull the pin, and Joe, fearing for the lives of everyone in the room, hit her on the jaw, knocking her cold.  She collapsed on the floor and he collected the grenade, which he handed to Steve and told him to make it disappear.

"When the General's wife came too, she was lying on a gurney with a broken jaw.  She was humiliated and immediately accused Joe of attacking her.  Joe tried his best to explain the matter, but the General refused to hear any explanations.  He ordered Joe to a Court Martial hearing.  At the trial, Joe tried to explain his actions, but it was his word against her word."

"What about Steve?  Wasn't he there?"

"Yes, he was.  But Steve was afraid of crossing the General and allowed Joe to go down for something he didn't do.  The truth was covered up, and he has lived with that guilt for the rest of his years."

"What about his petition?  He said he had a problem with his pockets.  Wasn't that a request about the money he lost in Vegas?"

Harney shook his head.  "Not at all.  He stuffed the grenade in his pocket all those years ago.  Somehow he managed to make it home with that live grenade, and has had it in his pocket all those years."

"Strange."

"Humans.  There's no way to understand them."

Steve, now standing between the belligerent parties and said, "General, Sir?  I have to say something."

"Who are you?" he demanded.

"My name is Steve Collins.  I served under your command in Iraq, and I served with Joe as well.  I was there the day Joe hit your wife.  And I have to say, Joe was wrongly accused.  He's innocent of all charges."

Joe watched him for a moment, and then backed away a few steps.  The General snorted his response.  "What in blazes are you talking about?"

Samantha placed a hand on her husband's shoulder and calmly said.  "I think he's trying to right a wrong.  Years ago when I was touring with the USO, when I was attacked by Joe, there was more to the story than anyone knew.  I had asked Steve to help me with some headaches that I had been having, and after some persuading, he snagged me some pain medicine.  I took more of them than I was supposed to, and I was a little high.  When the soldier gave me the grenade, I was not in my right mind, and I was pretending to pull the pin.  Joe tried to stop me, but I was too high to know it.  If he hadn't of struck me, I would have killed us all.  We owe him our lives.  Instead, we sent him to prison and ruined his life."

Peter's shoulders fell.  "Is that true?"


Joe slowly nodded.  He had lost interest in a confrontation.

Steve stepped forward.  "It is all true.  Worse, I lied about it because I was afraid I would loose my next promotion if I was discovered for illegally supplying narcotics.  So I allowed a good man to suffer for what I did wrong.  And now I can't live with the guilt anymore."  He thrust his hand into his pocket and produced the grenade.  "I'm sorry, but I have to end it all."  His hand went to the pin and his finger slipped through the ring.


Joe shook his head in disbelief.  How many times can the same bad thing happen to the same guy?  He made a fist and punched Steve on the jaw, snapping his head back, sending him into a heap at the feet of the ambulance drivers.

The General watched Joe for several minutes, and then at his wife.  After a moment, he exhaled loudly.  "Joe, I have no way of expressing how sorry I am for what happened to you.  I can promise that I will restore everything I can to you, and do everything in my power to make it right."

"What about him?" Joe was pointing at Steve.

"Has he suffered enough?"

Samantha jumped into the conversation.  "I sincerely doubt that he has suffered enough, but I suggest that both of you consider showing him mercy.  We all deserve worse than we receive.  I think we should show mercy in this situation, and I think it should begin right here, at this very moment."

Athaneal clapped his hands together fiercely.  "Man, I really love humans.  Sometimes they can really surprise you."

Harney nodded.  "That is one of the reasons God loves them so much.  And it is also why He was willing to die for them.  He wanted them to have mercy as well, no matter what they deserved."

The waiter was suddenly behind them.  "Hey, if you two pixies are finished, I'd like to clean your table and get some real customers in here."


"It's just as well," Harney grinned.  "We have to get back to work anyway."

Reflections by Sara Vinduska (Book Review)

Reflections by Sara Vinduska I recently ran into a young woman selling a book at the fair.  I always try to help out a local artist—especially a local author.  (I believe in reaping and sowing.)  When I buy a book from a local author, I'm always hoping the book will be "okay."  Well, let me tell you, Sara Vinduska is not "okay", she is absolutely fantastic.  I started reading her book late on Saturday evening and before I knew it, I was already on page 40.  I completely devoured the book by Monday, which is a chore for me (ADHD, need I say more?).
Sara sets Reflectionsin both Colorado and Wyoming, with an occasional visit to both LA and New York City, and a really pleasant visit to Ireland which lasts several weeks.  Her book follows a likeable hero named Lash, and a heroine named Justine, and let me tell you, I felt like I was falling in love with her by the end of the book!  The story is a drama/suspense story with a rather tasteful love story woven throughout the story line.  Sara does something that not many authors do: she continues the story once the major storyline tension is resolved.  She continues to follow her characters as the aftermath of their crisis abates, and does a darn good job.  Sara has a firm grasp on basic and complicated human emotions, love, frustration, fear, joy, grief, and excitement.  I would swear she has a PHD in psychology, for her insights are spot on, and could possibly save many people years of therapy if they follow her story line close enough!
Sara's book is rich in dialog, and doesn't bog the reader down with unnecessary details that hinder a reader's progress.  Her love scenes are handled tastefully, and her action sequences are not over dramatized.  Sara's ability to develop both complicated characters and storylines into simple, engaging words demonstrates her skill and firmly declares that she is a master storyteller.  Although, I have to admit, I was a bit overwhelmed with her completely surprising ending (I won't spoil it, and I promise you won't see it coming!), but I suspect she has a purpose for it in the next installment of the series.  Her next book can't come soon enough, that's for sure!
Trust me, Sara is a treasure.  Her work is worth your time, and you will find it as rewarding as did I.  And if you ever get a chance to meet her, you will see that her engaging smile is not her only strength.  There is true depth and foundation deep in her soul, and I expect great things from her in the future.

I Met a Man Today

I met him as I was leading my sons to the temple, where we were to offer a lamb for the Passover. The crowd was always a burden on Jerusalem, but this year…this year there was anger. All day the crowd had continued to gather, and normally there was weeping and penance for our sins, but this year it was different. Few were focused on the Passover. Most were focused on their blind anger.

I lead my sons on a three week journey from Cyrene to Jerusalem. Oh, if I had the money, we could have taken the voyage all the way to the shoreline of Israel, but we are a poor family, and we have to make do with what we have. For three weeks we made our way from Cyrene, across Egypt, and on to Jerusalem and the temple, leading our lamb along the way. We were continually dodging the Roman soldiers who patrolled the highways, the soldiers who were constantly hounding us, spitting the words, "filthy Jews," through clenched teeth as if cursing us.

By the time we arrived in Jerusalem, the crowds were so thick that I feared we wouldn't make it to the temple in time to offer our sacrifice. My boys could feel the tension building around us as the city flared from one shouting match to another; they held the edges of my cloak to ensure we wouldn't be parted.

We couldn't find a way to the temple. It was as if the crowd was pushing us farther and farther away from where we wanted to be. Finally, we found an alley that would take us around the bulk of the crowd and possibly give us access to a less crowded street. My boys were clinging to me as we wound our way through the mass of people. Suddenly, the crowd parted and I saw a Roman soldier riding a horse down the street many paces in front of us. As he rode along, he was followed by a squad of foot soldiers who were armed with swords in their hands, forcing the people to make way. My hand reached underneath my cloak to ensure that my short sword was still there and I felt comfort in knowing that I could defend myself against the soldiers. I've fought the Romans before, and I'll do it again if necessary.

The people were yelling and cursing as the soldiers parted the way. I couldn't make out their words, but it became clear to me that they were shouting at the procession of condemned men, who were being led to be crucified. Suddenly, the crowd behind me surged forward and I felt my young son's hands being ripped from my cloak, and we were separated for the first time in their lives. I tried to return to them, but the people kept pushing and pressing, and I had no choice but to move with them. As we neared the procession, I could feel rocks and dirt pounding me as the people behind me began throwing debris at the soldiers and the condemned men. At that moment I saw him.

Him? Was it a man I was looking at? He was more of a beast than a man. I have served as a soldier on more than one occasion. Never, in any battle I have ever fought, never, have I seen a man in such condition. Even though he was many paces away from me, I could see that his skin was shredded into ribbons of flesh, and the cloth draped over him was soaked with blood. A crown of thorns had been pressed into his hair, and it seemed as though the thorns had been driven deep into his skull. He could only see with one eye, for the other was swollen and bleeding. His beard, or what was left of it, had been ripped from his face. The cross he was bearing was dripping with his blood and left clumps of bloody soil behind him, marking the way he had come.

It seemed that every step he took was accompanied by a slap of a whip against his back and shoulders by the merciless soldiers who were driving him forward as if he were a mule burdened beyond his capacity. The man stumbled under the weight of his cross and pitched head long onto the street and landed with a bloody splat at my feet. He almost splashed his blood on me, and would have done so had I not jumped back in time. His blood would have caused me to become unclean, and I would have been defiled by it. I had to make a sacrifice today. I had no time for defilement.

Fury began to build within my chest as I looked down at this…this…criminal, who almost ruined my Passover sacrifice. I began to yell at him as well, wishing that the soldiers would drag him away from me so that I wouldn't be burdened with him anymore.

As he lay prostrate under the weight of his cross, I noticed that a smear of blood marked the cobble stones on the highway, leaving an impression of his face on the ground. Just as quickly as I felt the anger I felt saddened and I saw him differently, and I felt the words of my protest being choked away from deep within my chest. The beast that lay in his own blood was not a beast at all, but a man. Perhaps he had children just as I did. Perhaps he was someone's son. Perhaps he was someone's brother. No matter what he had done, he certainly didn't deserve to be beaten the way he had been. The longer he lay on the ground the angrier the soldiers became until their whipping him had no point to it. He was exhausted and weak. There was no way he could walk much further, much less bear the weight of that miserable cross.

The soldier on the horse recognized that the criminal was spent and he yelled a harsh command at his subordinates to find someone to carry the cross for him. Yes! Someone should help that man. It was the humane thing to do. Someone should help him.

I saw that the centurion was searching the crowd to select someone to help him, and fear and crawled down my spine when I understood that the soldier had picked me. I began to peddle backwards with indignation, but the crowd was pressing me forward. I saw the soldier's hand reaching to grab me and my own hand reached for the sword underneath my cloak. Filthy Roman soldier, how dare he lay a hand on me! I'll show him…

But before I could grab my weapon, his hands were on me and I was being thrown across the street by his brute strength. NO! It can't be me! I can't be defiled by that criminal's blood. I have to make a sacrifice, I can't be defiled!

Yet I had no choice. The soldier was standing over me and yelling, "Carry that cross, you filthy Jew." When he saw the defiance in my eyes his hands lifted his sword and I could tell that he would run me through if I resisted him.

I'm certain my face was twisted underneath my snarl as I accepted that this criminal was about to ruin my life. Frustrated, I grabbed a hold of the cross and began to lift it from his back and I felt his hot blood drip down my hands. Revolted, I withdrew my hands and let the cross crash into his back once more. And then I felt the harsh sting of the whip as the soldiers rejected my protest. ARGH! This ruins everything!

Jerusalem is a rank smelling city. The tanners who scrape animal skins and then dye them during the curing process cause the city to smell like polluted death. It's a stench that's always offended me. But this man…this man was foul! The blood had dried to his skin, mixed with sweat and who knows what, it was all I could do to be near him.

I swallowed hard and began to lift the cross and was suddenly impacted with the weight of what should have been a small burden. This cross was made from green wood, and was heavy. It was heavier than I ever imagined. How had this emaciated man carried it so far down these crowded streets? It was heavy to me, and I was not bleeding from every inch of my body. As the weight of the cross was lifted from his back, the man gasped for breath, and I realized that it was pressing the very air he was breathing out of his burning lungs. I held the cross for a moment, and then settled the weight of it on my shoulder. Once free of his burden, the criminal gathered his strength and then stood. For a few seconds, he tottered on his feet, and then he looked at me.

No, that's not true. He looked through me. I felt that man's one good eye piercing my very soul, as if he was reading every thought that was in my mind. As he locked his eye on mine, I felt suddenly ashamed of my own selfishness. This man was condemned and was walking the last mile of his life, and I was angry because I had been inconvenienced by a dying man. Was it so much to ask? Was it so much that I help a dying man to his death?

His face bore no expression as he seemed to find strength and he joined me underneath the cross and pressed his bloody body next to mine. Together, we began to make our way down the street toward the city gate. Every step we took I could feel the sharp bite of the whips as the soldiers continued to drive us to this man's death. His exhaustion was apparent each time his feet moved. Many times he fell, and each time he chose to get up. So many men would have quit, but he was determined to see his way to the end. Here was a man who had strength! I think I would like to have known him before he was condemned. I respect strength, and this man's ability went beyond the physical.

As we cleared the gates and began to climb the short hill just beyond Jerusalem, his weakness overwhelmed him and he couldn't move any further. The weight of the cross was causing me to pant, but I hated to see the soldiers beating him every time he faltered. I reached down with my free hand and lifted him to his knees, and then to his feet. And then I embraced the cross with a deeper grasp, and reached across the beam and wrapped my arm around his, locking his flesh against the cross itself. I then carried him and the cross up the hill, his feet barely finding the path as I drug him along. "We're almost there," I kept whispering to him, as if he would find relief in knowing that his death was drawing closer with each step. "It's almost over."

Once on the hill, he collapsed into a heap near the hole that would support his cross. I continued to bear the weight of the cross as the soldiers made short work of nailing the other two condemned men to their own trees. Their pitiful cries offended me as I watched their pathetic faces protest the pain of the nails pounding through their flesh. How could they cry like little girls, when this man, this bleeding, broken, poured out, man was stoically enduring his shame with grace?

I felt the soldiers lift the cross from my shoulders, but somewhere along the way I began to identify with that cross, and the man who was bearing it, and I actually fought to keep it. Of course, it was not my cross, but his, and the soldiers pried my bloody hands from the beams. It was his death, not mine that was about to occur. It was his hands that were about to be crushed by the weight of the nails. It was his…choice?

It all became very clear to me, like the sharp point of a spear. The only way a man could endure such torture was if he chose to do it. A truly guilty man would have succumbed to his guilt long before this. Only a determined man could endure so much. He had to be innocent! That was the only way he could stand it.

The soldier grabbed me by the cloak and threw me across the open ground, where I lay at the feet of the snarling crowd who had followed us from the city. I lay there a moment before I could gather my strength to rise to my feet. I felt hands reaching out to me, not the harsh, grabbing hands of the soldiers, but the warm, caring hands of a mother tugging at me as I pulled myself erect. I looked to my benefactor and found myself gazing into the tear stained face of a woman. This woman was looking at me with gratitude, and I knew then she was that man's mother. No one else seemed to care what happened to that innocent man, but his mother didn't leave him. And that caused a question to burn deep in my soul.

How could a mother simply allow her son to be crucified? I know, I know, a woman had no status to do anything about it, but she should have been, what? Outraged? Truly this man had to be innocent, for I saw it in her eyes. She had a purpose and an understanding as well. She was heavy with the weight of a mother who was watching her son die, but she was doing it with a quiet dignity that I failed to understand. Unless… Unless she, too, knew that he was innocent. The mother of a guilty man would have held her head in shame, but not this one. But? Why would she let him die? Wouldn't a mother try to stop it? Even though she couldn't do anything about it? Why would she seem to accept it?

Then one of the chief priests began to mock the innocent man. He was yelling at him to come down from the cross, and to save himself if he truly was the Son of God. The Son of God? Is that was this is about? That's blasphemy! If it was true, why, he deserved to die!

I couldn't help but steal a glance at his mother as she absorbed the accusations being railed against her son. She had a confident, knowing look about her. She made no effort to stop them, to explain that he was only pretending to be the Son of God. A mother couldn't suffer to let her son die that kind of death for a lie. It had to be true.

This man claimed to be equal to God? To be God, Himself? Could it be? Could he be the one they were calling the Messiah? My heart leapt within my chest when I realized I had been so close to the one who made the blind to see. The words of the prophet Isaiah began to burn deep within me, "…he was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquity…" Is it possible?

What had I done? Had I hastened the death of the Promised One? His blood was on me!

My hands were shaking. I had to leave the crucifixion. I had to go. Yes! My boys were still in Jerusalem and were probably in terror for being separated from their father. I must leave here and go find them. It took me more than five hours of searching to locate them. In my absence they made their way to the temple, which was mysteriously quiet, for the veil in the temple had been destroyed. There would be no sacrifices this year. Perhaps never again.

In the days that followed I heard much talk about that man who was named Jeshua. It seems that He was indeed the Son of God, for there were many reports throughout Jerusalem and as far away as Emmaus that people were seeing Him. I freely admit that I heard those stories with great skepticism, for people are prone to chase excitement. But then I saw Him with my own eyes, and when I did, my heart leapt within my chest. For a long moment he stared back at me with those eyes that burned deep into my soul. He simply smiled and said, "Get your boys and follow Me, Simon."