Sarah Martin Byrd's Blog, page 17

The Death Angel

Sometimes I am so filled with anxiety that I can't concentrate on anything except my worry. My aunt with ALS (Lou Gehrig's Disease) is constantly on my mind. She is so helpless and when I'm not there I worry about her. Is she getting enough fluids, does her nose need wiping, are her clothes arranged comfortably? These are just a few of the things she cannot do for herself. As I've said before: Lou Gehrig's Disease a wicked sickness. One that robs you of your voluntary skills while letting your involuntary skills live on. When the brain still works and the rest of you don't it is a pitiful situation.

I am hurriedly writing this today so I can get back to my aunt's home. She had a really bad day yesterday. Her oxygen levels dropped and she was in pretty bad shape. Today she seems much better with the oxygen machine turned up. There is no way to describe the emotion that goes into watching someone pass away. I've been with a few as the Death Angel took their hand and they drew their last breath. My wonderful Grandma Verlie. She just breathed in that one last bit of air and gently floated to a better place. My husband's mother Idesta recited The Lord's Prayer the last night I stayed with her. She couldn't respond to me, but there was no mistaking the quite, humble mumblings of her prayer.

I truly believe there are angels all around us. Sometimes I can feel them helping me. Other times I'm unaware of their presence. I don't know when my aunt's time will come, but when it does I am assured of one thing, she will die, but she will never perish! This morning as I lay awake around 4 a.m., a scripture traveled through my mind. John 3:16 For God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life.

The Great Comforter sent His angel of peace to me this morning. As I watch my aunt struggle through these next days, weeks or months, I know she is surrounded by her own angels. And until The Lord sends down His Death Angel for her, I myself will open my arms and welcome whatever happens. And when I feel overwhelmed all I have to do is remember God's promise.

A Servants Heart

The 4th of July is drawing near, Independence Day. Not just a time for fun and fireworks, but also a day to remember those who serve so we may remain free. I want to take this opportunity to thank all the people who have sacrificed their lives for our freedom. As I sit typing I am in a nice cool home. I have clean water to drink and plenty of food to eat. I'm not afraid to walk out my door in shorts or speak up in church. I can carry a weapon if I have the correct permit and no one is going to censor this blog.

Oh, how we take our freedoms for granted. Freedom of speech: Be careful with this one because the Bible tells us we should listen more often than talk. Freedom of religion: The right to believe any way we choose and to be able to attend church and display our Bibles in public. Freedom to bear arms: I have a small, belt clip 22, but I would really hate to ever have to use it for protection, freedom of the press, and so on. Not all are as fortunate as we are here in The United States of America.

In the good old USA we can start our own business. We can travel without permission, and we can love whom we choose. Not tied to a person through bloodlines or arranged marriages. Yes, with all the challenges we face in this country I still declare that this is the best place in the world to live. And I am so thankful for men and women who join the leagues of our armed forces. By signing their name they belong to the military. They must go wherever they are told. Live wherever they are sent, and report to work even when they don't feel like it.

I've known a couple of men who came back from fighting on the front lines and they wouldn't speak of the horror they'd seen. For the rest of their lives they will try to block out the terror. Waking up in a cold sweat, remembering what they had to do and what they saw. I know families who have sacrificed time together while mom or dad went on a year tour to a far away country. Mothers have birthed babies, not knowing if it's daddy would ever lay eyes on it.

Yes, I think we all need to get on our knees and thank God for these special people who get up everyday not knowing what they will be told to do, or where they may have to go. We should honor the ones now serving and also remember the ones who have served in the past.

Before I got married I thought I wanted to join the armed forces. Now after all these years I know I would not have been cut out for it. I hold in high regard the ones who have such courage. There is strength in one who has to take another life so others can be free. It is a dedication that I will never understand but will always respect. God bless to all who have the heart of a servant.

Grasping the Moment

It's a Saturday and I'm sitting on my deck at the river. Rain is pinging off the tin roof and thunder is clapping, echoing between the mountains. Canoers and Kayakers are frantically paddling to get out of the stormy rain. You haven't lived unless you've been caught in a canoe during a thunderstorm. With nowhere to go but down river there isn't a whole lot you can do but grasp the moment. (Note: the safe thing to do is get out of the water. Pull the canoe out and flip it upside down over your head. However, make sure you're not sitting under a tall tree. Lightning can strike the tree and travel through the roots to where you're at and kill you. I saw this very thing happened to three of our cows many years ago. Poor things. Flipped them onto their backs, legs sticking straight up in the air. Not a pretty sight or memory.)

Another remembrance of long ago happened Saturday, February 22, 1975. I met my husband on a blind date. Today we are celebrating our 35th anniversary. Thankfully after all these years we still enjoy spending time together. No, the ride hasn't always been smooth. No, the path has not always been clear. But thankfully, and by the grace of God we've weathered the storms. We've paddled down the river of life. Sometimes not knowing which fork to take, but thankfully the river carried us home and back to each other.

In 1975 I would never have dreamed after 35 years I could care more deeply for someone than I did then. It is however frustrating living with a person who is always right? And, does it bother me that his snoring sometimes keeps me awake? Yes. But would I trade him for all the silver and gold in the world? No. We are a team, a somewhat perfect mis-matched pair. Many may wonder: Aren't you bored living with the same person all these years? Not me. There is never a dull moment at my house. My husband loves to live. He works hard, but then he likes to play hard too. He'll kill me if any of you mention I've written this blog about us. He told me a long time ago, "Write all you want, but don't write about me." Most of the time I listen to him, because most of the time, yes, he is right. But this time I've just got to tell the world what a lucky woman I am. Truly blessed beyond any quantity of measure to have a good husband.

Trials and temptations come to all of us. No matter how much we love someone or are in love we never know when that union might be severed by death, infidelity, or just plain stupidity. I learned a long time ago never to say never. We are all human. So for every day the Lord blesses this union with my man–I'm going to be thankful.

You should treat one another as a precious gift, and when you lie down at night ask yourself this question: If you knew you were going to pass away and you could only tell one-person goodbye, who would it be? My answer would be the man I've lived with for 35 years. Sorry Jerry, I just had to do it. Thank you for all the memories, and the times that have took my breath away. It is a wonderful gift from God to be able to say, I not only love you—but I like you too.

Orphaned, but not Fatherless

A few weeks ago I noticed a birds nest sitting high up on the rafters of the shed that covers our camper at New River. I soon made friends with the mother bird. I watched her as she traveled back and forth to her nest. She would fly in and perch on a nearby two by four cautiously checking me out. She must have been wondering what kind of person I was and if I was going to be a good neighbor.

When I arrived at the camper the following Friday I was again greeted by mother bird. This time as she hopped along the rafters toward her nest she had a juicy red worm dangling from her mouth. As she approached the nest a loud chorus of chirping started coming from above. Then I saw three or four tiny bird heads, necks straining, and their beaks open and ready for dinner. I stand amazed at how God created everything. How He knows that mother bird and her babies. Always supplying food for their bellies and twigs for making a home.

With Mother's Day behind us and Father's Day only a few days away I consider the care we receive from our Mom's and Dad's. How they work to fulfill our wants and needs. I think of my Mama who has been gone for almost three years and my Daddy who passed away nearly twenty-nine years ago. I sometimes ponder on the fact that I am an orphan. A friend of mine said this to me several years ago when her last parent passed away. When she said, "I am now an orphan," that really stuck with me and made me think.

Childhood memories of good and bad times surface. No parent is perfect, so as I reminisce I'll shut out the bad and only dwell on the good–Mama cooking a delicious supper, and Daddy lying on the couch snoring after a hard days work. Mama's fingers moving as she made beautiful crocheted dollies–Daddy's sour cherry trees and red-rose bushes–so many reminders and memories. The old saying, "gone but not forgotten" is truly right. One day when I've passed on I hope my daughter will only remember the good things about me and forget all my mistakes. She is such a wonderful mother herself.

At the end of the day when I lie awake and think of all the years that have gone by I miss my loved ones, but I have hope. I know that no matter what happens I have an eternal Father, one that will never die.  A Father who has withstood all the tragedies this world has to offer. One who is always watching out for me, full of advice if I will only seek it. Yes, what a comfort to know that even though my Mama and Daddy are gone I will never, ever, be Fatherless!

Sweet, Sweet Summertime

Officially summer doesn't begin until June 21. Don't you think someone needs to tell Mr. Outside Thermostat? Man it's hot. I truly do love summer. One of the things I enjoy most is my garden. We have already been eating lettuce and onions and my husband Jerry just brought in a banana pepper and two cucumbers. Fresh salad is on the menu for supper tonight. Yum. I can't wait to can green beans and tomatoes. And my rhubarb is ready to cut and freeze.

Another of my favorite things to do in the summer is fish. Last Saturday Jerry and I were on the river early. The fog was still lifting from the surface of the water. The cool morning was invigorating and I was ready for yet another challenging day of trying to catch more fish than Jerry. Mind you its never happened. That's right. After years of fishing Jerry has always caught more than me. A couple of weeks ago on our first fishing trip of the season I was hopeful. I snagged the first, a twelve-inch small mouth bass. Then Jerry got two, then, I got two and was ahead again. In the end Jerry landed two knotty head and won by a single fish. Again!

This past weekend I caught eight and the master fisherman caught eleven. I never dreamed I'd enjoy fishing so much. Even if I don't win I love the feel of a catch on my line. The way he struggles for his freedom, tugging left, then right swirling, jumping out of the water. I never try to hurt the poor fellows. I gently un-snag the hook, look them in the eye and thank them for letting me catch them, then throw them back into their watery home.

You see all kinds of things while floating down the river. Last year we spied the largest turtle we'd ever seen. He was under water perched on a big rock. The hole was deep and he was just resting, hoping a fish would float by to supply his dinner. There is no telling how old that turtle is, maybe as old as the ancient waters of New River. So many animals live along the water. Muskrats, beavers, snakes, geese, ducks, cranes, and on hot summer days, lots of people. River folk are a friendly lot. We always holler across the way to each other, "How you doing? Having any luck?"  On Saturday two guys passed our boat. One commented, "You two must have a good marriage if she'll go fishing with you." I thought, how does he know I'm not the one letting Jerry come fishing with me?

Yes, time together doing simple things can strengthen a marriage. Years ago I would take a book with me to read, just in case the fish were not biting, but not anymore. I fish from the time we leave the shore until we reach our destination. Jerry has a saying; "You can't catch a fish if your hook is not in the water." So true, and one day just because I'm diligent, I'm going to beat him and hook more of my slimy gilled friends than him.

Diligence is the key to most of life's successes. For a writer it's a major factor. Sometimes it takes years for us to write a novel, then more years to get it ready for another set of eyes to read. Then even more to find a publisher or agent. I have to admit sometimes I wonder if all the work is worth the effort. Then a person will email me and tell me how much they enjoyed my writing and ask when my next novel will be released. Somehow this makes all the hours seem worth it.

Often I wish I were the type person who could leave my responsibilities behind and go off on a retreat to finish my work, but I can't. I'm simply not made that way. Though sometimes I have to go fishing. I believe that if I'm doing what I am supposed to do, whether playing with my family or tending to the needs of others all else will fall into place. Enjoy the summer everyone. Let's go fishing!

An Author Is Born

This week I'd like to introduce you to an aspiring new author. Her name is Emma Brooke Jolly and she just so happens to be my granddaughter. Last Thursday was her last day as a first grader. She brought home piles of work she'd done throughout the year. One folder contained stories and poems she had written. I couldn't wait to feast my eyes on her words.

I took the hand written pages out to my rocking chair on the carport and started reading while Emma played with her five week old kittens. Every once in a while she would look up to see if I was still reading. Her tender, honest words made me laugh and brought a tear to my eye.

I can promise you Emma will have plenty of support if the desire to write stays with her throughout the years. I can only hope she'll be able to do what she loves. Even though making a living from writing is tough. I'll still encourage Emma to become a doctor, nurse, teacher or whatever it takes to pay the bills. The old saying "starving artist" applies to writers too.

I can't wait for you to read one of her stories and a poem. Here they are.

What Is Summer?

Emma Brooke Jolly

Summer tastes like water floating in my mouth.

Summer sounds like birds chirping.

Summer looks like flowers blooming everywhere around me.

Summer smells like the smell from flowers.

Summer feels like the sun beating down making me sweat.

Bunny Tail

Emma Brooke Jolly

Once upon a time there was a bunny that wanted a tail. So he found somebody, and her name was Emma Brooke Jolly.

He said, "Can you make me a tail?" he said in a squeaky voice and smiling.

So I made him a white tail out of chewing gum. Then he hopped off.

But he came back and said, "My tail has got stuck so much that I have decided that I do not want a tail anymore. But I do want a best friend."

"Okay, I will be your best friend," I said looking happy.

He said, "Thank you."

And I said, "You're welcome."

The End.

Wasn't that the cutest thing you've ever read? Full of imagination, and so descriptive. Okay, I can't stand it. Here's one more:

Homework

Emma Brooke Jolly

I hate doing my homework. So bad that I want to flush it down the toilet. Even I want to flush school down the toilet.

But one day I got home and started to get out my homework and it was not there. I was so happy I just about flew out of my pants and broke the ceiling.

I yelled, "I don't have any homework."

"You what?" My grandma said.

"I don't have any homework!"

Finally I went home and went to bed.

The End

What a blessing grandchildren are. I thank the good Lord everyday for Emma. And who knows, maybe one day we'll write a book together. We did jot down a short story last year called, There's a Heel on my Hill. Maybe we'll share it with you soon.

Thanks for bearing with me, while this old Grandma brags. Have a blessed week all.

Trash or Treasure?

While running away from home for a few days last weekend I was able to scratch another item off my bucket list. I stayed at Cades Cove in the campground. For twenty years my husband Jerry and I have been traveling to Cades Cove, Tennessee. The cove is about forty-five minutes from Gatlinburg in The Great Smoky Mountain National Park. All these years we've lodged in hotels about thirty minutes from the cove in a small town called Townsend. Every year we'd travel back and forth from the cove to Townsend. As we left the cove each time I'd always look at the campground and wish I were staying there. I wanted to be where the action was with the bears, deer and turkeys. Thanks to a wrecked F-450 motor home I was finally able to.

Last winter Jerry came home from his job of picking up scrap metal at junkyards. He started telling me about a motor home at one of the yards. It had been rolled over on its side and the insurance company had totaled it. Jerry and I had been drooling after an RV for some time. We would travel to RV lots and look at those eluding homes on wheels. They'd stare at us with their glowing headlights, sun reflecting off shiny wheels, satellite dish perched on top, and their slide-out proudly extended. Occasionally a salesman would crack one up and the motor would hum out a tune that sounded something like: On the road again, like a band of gypsies we go down the highway.

One thing has been holding us back from purchasing one of these beauties. Green backs, cold hard cash. Yes, these traveling abodes cost a small fortune. There is no way we would put that much money in a vehicle. Even one that sports a queen sized bed. Then the day came when Jerry found the one that had been bumped up a bit. He came home telling me about the totaled motor home and my eyes lit up and my heart picked up a beat or two. This might be a RV that we could afford. Then the next week Jerry came home from the junkyard and said he didn't think he'd buy it. He was sort of afraid we'd be traveling down the highway and parts of it would start flying off. Regardless of the homes flaws he wouldn't stop talking about it. It took Jerry four trips to the junkyard before he drove the RV. That day he came home and told me he wanted me to go see it.

I was reluctant at this point, but he kept bragging on how good the motor ran, and how nicely the junkyard man had fixed it up. New awning and mirror, a little body work here, a swipe of paint there. So next day off we go. Two hours later we arrive. There she sat. I wasn't that impressed. It was way bigger than I expected. Even though it was only 29 feet long. The first thing I saw when I opened the door was a hole in the wall. During the crash the microwave had flown out of its space and smashed into the paneling. Some of the cabinet doors hang by one hinge and it was dirty, real dirty.

I sort of slipped out the door and stood in the sunshine thinking my husband had really lost his mind this time. While the junkyard man and Jerry talked about generators; and why the step wouldn't go in, I was thinking, no way is this thing going to my house. When the junkyard salesman left us alone Jerry asks the big question, "What do you think?" I proceed to make a list of all the things I see wrong. Jerry says, "Only cosmetic, easy to fix." I again protest. Jerry then reminds me how cheap the motor home is. Finally, seeing his mind is made up I give in. Age has brought about a kinder me, more agreeable. Besides, I hate fussing. As we left the junkyard I followed behind the RV in our pickup. Goodness, that thing in front of me was big. It took up the entire lane of the country road. I knew I'd be scared to death riding in it. As the trip home progressed my fear lessened. Jerry did a great job of holding it in the road and my confidence in his decision grew.

After some minor repairs, lots of elbow grease, a picture of kitty cats from the dollar store to cover up the microwave boo-boo, and a simple tablecloth to hide the cracked table, everything looks pretty good. Jerry was right again… only cosmetic. Since our second trip in it to Cades Cove this past weekend I can honestly say, I love my junked house on wheels. Camping in the cove was even more special than I'd hoped for. Yes, sometimes others junk can become another ones treasure. We can't always judge a book by its cover.

Note: Don't laugh, but for 25 years I took a bath in a bathtub that was purchased at a junkyard. It had a few scratches, but hey, it held water just the same, and it only cost a few bucks. You gotta' love a good bargain.

Cross Country

Last week while picking up my Aunt Lafayette's granddaughter Tess at The Charlotte/Douglas International Airport in Charlotte, North Carolina, thoughts of other times at airports flooded my head. First came the memory of waiting, then waiting some more. Arriving way too early my husband and I sat around watching people. Of course I'm reading a book while occasionally glancing up when someone strolls by. The world is made up of all sorts of faces. How can millions of individuals look so different? The Man upstairs must have a bunch of different patterns on file.

Then, thoughts of other trips surface, an Alaskan cruise and land trip. Cancun, Mexico, and the island of Kauai. New York City. And my all time favorite, a road trip to Wheeling, West Virginia. As we watch the silver birds float onto the airport landing strip in Charlotte I again marvel at how these huge vessels get off the ground, and then stay in the air.

I have seen so many beautiful places. One very special time was when we were driving along the frozen tundra in Alaska. The tour guide told us that we were going to pull over and try to see Mount McKinley, or Denali as the Indians call it. We stepped down from the bus and stood staring in the direction the guide was pointing, and then all of a sudden the clouds parted and the top of the 20,320-foot mountain appeared. I felt so honored to have been invited to such a spectacular viewing.

If you ever get a chance, Alaska is the place to visit. I even saw the Northern Lights, some call them The Polar Lights or Aurora. Different hues of greens and blues swirled in the black sky. It was a mystical experience. We saw whales jumping, bald eagles soaring, and Caribou grazing, glaciers, totem poles and The Trans-Alaska Pipeline. I traveled by plane, train, cruise ship and bus. The thing I remember most vividly was a native Alaskan woman speaking to us one day as we stopped at a rest area. The lady, dressed in Indian attire stood on a knoll and told us the ways of her people. Then when she started sharing with us the death of her young son I was spellbound. She said her people believe that it takes two years for someone to get over the worst of their grief. She spoke of customs where ladies join together and make quilts as part of the grieving process. She told us that you always have someone with you sharing in your pain during this time.

Other things that I remember during my travels are, the turquoise blue waters of Mexico. Flying through the mountains as we descended to the island of Kauai, and my friends wedding there on the beach. Our jet boat adventure, sailing on a catamaran, and the huge waves! A trip to New York City with my daughter is one of my favorite memories. Why? Because it was our first–girls only– trip together, and her first plane ride. Flying into New York and seeing Lady Liberty welcoming us was surreal. Then last but not least was our trip up the Ohio River to Wheeling, West Virginia. You can travel lots of different ways, but you'll never see the real world unless you get in a car and ride the back roads.

That's why later this year we're going to pack up our RV and set out for Yellowstone National Park, then to Glacier National Park and who knows where from there. If anyone of my readers has done this please let me know what else we need to see while visiting out west. Yes, I love to see the world, but I always dread being away from home and my daughter and granddaughter. But you can't have it both ways. Looking out my back door I have a beautiful view of The Blue Ridge Mountains, but unless I load up and go there I won't be able to smell the mountain laurel in full bloom, or experience the coolness of a valley stream.

When it was time to take Tess back to the airport tears filled my eyes as I watched the sad goodbyes. At the young age of twenty, Tess has already seen much of the world. She's even been to Europe a few times. But I have to wonder if she realizes she has just taken one of the most precious trips she'll ever take? The one to see her grandmother for what could very well be her last time. I too remember being young and carefree. I didn't think much about death and the reality of it. Now as the year's pile up death seems to be everywhere, grasping for first one loved one, then another.

There are no guarantee's any of us will have another day, but when you have an incurable disease like Lou Gehrig's you know your days are few in number. I can only hope Tess knows she can one day see her grandmother again, that the parting of bodies does not have to mean the end. For those of us who believe in a grand re-union, death is only a separation for a while. To be absent from the body is to be present with The Lord. That final cross-country trip should be the one we look forward to most of all!

1Corinthians 5: 6-9

6)  Therefore we are always confident, knowing that, whilst we are at home in the body, we are absent from the Lord:

7)  (For we walk by faith, not by sight:)

 We are confident, I say, and willing rather to be absent from the body, and to be present with the Lord.

9)  Wherefore we labour, that, whether present or absent, we may be accepted of him.

(A note from Sarah. I have tried every way possible to remove the smiley face from above and insert the number 8. It looks fine until I post, then it reverts to the smiley face. I guess God really likes that verse and is smiling.)

The Big Bad Wolf

All of us know the story of Little Red Riding Hood. It seemed everywhere she went there he was, that big bad wolf. Lurking behind a tree, around the corner of her house and even dressing up like Little Red Riding Hood's poor old grandmother. He had one intention and that was to get Little Red Riding Hood and hurt her or even worse, eat her!

How different are times today? We have predators sneaking around us everywhere. Lying in wait for that one weak moment when we let our guard down. When we take our eye of those we are watching out for. I don't mean to scare anyone or be pessimistic; I'm only trying to make you all aware of the danger in our own back yard.

What a sorry piece of crap is the person who hurts children or anyone for that matter. There is no way I can describe how I feel about someone who treats children badly or worse, those who prey upon our young ones.

Last week in our small town a predator tried to abduct a young girl in the local park. The same park where my granddaughter sometimes plays. The man actually grabbed the girl around her waist and tried to haul her off to his van. What kind of terrible sickness could a person have to do such a thing? And even worse there was a woman helping him. I can only imagine what they had planned for this innocent child. The same couple was also seen in a neighboring town making lewd advances toward another young girl. Where will they strike next?

Who do you trust? Do we really know the people we come in contact with everyday? Are they saints by day and demons by night? I have never been a very trustful person. I found out early in life even some family members couldn't be trusted. Not that I don't let strangers into my life, because I do. I just don't give them my social security number, security code or let them take my grandchild on an afternoon drive.

I realize how quickly a child can disappear from sight. One minute they're on the slide, then the swing, then gone! We just can't be too careful with these little ones whom God has entrusted us with. I know I may sound like a worrywart, but I just feel an intense need to send out this message to all who might have an eye to read it.

I know I have some young adults who are following my blog so this message goes out to you also. Do not trust anyone you don't know! If someone approaches you, and you feel uncomfortable, scream, run, kick, pinch, do whatever you have to, alerting someone that you need help. Don't be afraid to cause a scene. If the young girl in the park hadn't fought back she could have been gone forever. Be on guard young people, the big bad wolf is on the prowl.

God has a message for those with sick minds, the ones who prey on the young and weak:

"And even as they did not like to retain God in their knowledge, God gave them over to a reprobate mind, to do those things which are not convenient; Being filled with all unrighteousness, fornication, wickedness, covetousness, maliciousness; full of envy, murder, debate, deceit, malignity; whisperers, Backbiters, haters of God, despiteful, proud, boasters, inventors of evil things, disobedient to parents, Without understanding, covenant-breakers, without natural affection, implacable, unmerciful: Who knowing the judgment of God, that they which commit such things are worthy of death, not only do the same, but have pleasure in them that do them." (Romans 1:28-32)

Please go on line and read the details of the attempted abductions in Elkin, North Carolina, and Pilot Mountain, North Carolina. A description and artist sketch can be found at this link: http://www.wxii12.com/news/27801604/d...

In The Twinkling Of An Eye

Well it's been another wild and crazy week at the Byrd house, sickness, surgery, golf trip, and a tragedy in the middle of the night. Sounds like the makings of another novel, doesn't it? Yes, these things really happened this week. Real life stories are sometimes much more unbelievable than fiction.

I'll start with my daughter. She had a much-needed operation last week. She is doing great, just a few weeks of rest to recoup and she'll be fine. Meanwhile, I was full time mom to my granddaughter for several days. I know why God intended for young people to have kids, because grandmas like me are worn out! But I loved every minute of it. Each second I'm given with the only grandchild I'll ever have, fills me with an indescribable amount of joy. I'm blessed and I know it!

After living with my husband Jerry for over thirty years, I thought I knew all the terms that were associated with that little white thing called a golf ball. Bogie, double bogie, shank, slice, par, eagle… But then after Jerry came home from a three-day golfing trip to Pinehurst, a new term was added to my vocabulary, double eagle! Jerry was so excited. Of course not knowing what a double eagle was; it took me a few minutes to join in the celebration. I asked, "What's a double eagle?" "What's a double eagle?" he says. "Well, it's about the best shot you can make in golf. If the hole is a par 5 and you get it in the hole in 2 strokes, then that's a double eagle."

Oh yea, that made sense! Jerry went on to tell me that the golf course owners had never seen that happen on their course, so I suppose it was a big deal. What a wonderful time of fun and fellowship Jerry has with his golfing buddies, having a bounty of friends to share our pleasures and sorrows with is truly one of life's greatest gifts. Laughter is by far the best medicine. But sometimes the distress and grief we experience in life make it very hard to see any reason to be merry.

While spending the night with my daughter and granddaughter on Saturday night, a loud noise woke me around 4:30 am. I thought my recouping daughter had fallen. After checking to see that she was all right, I looked out the window and saw a vehicles light in the neighbors yard across the road. A phone call confirmed a vehicle was indeed in their yard, and it was lying on its side. While my daughter dialed 911 I jerked my clothes on and headed out the door to the scene of the accident.

Four other neighbors already stood vigil over the poor gentleman who had been thrown from the vehicle. He lay on the cold, damp ground, motionless. Two of the ladies present were registered nurses and they just shook their heads, saying it's bad, real bad. What a helpless feeling to be with someone in need and know there is nothing you can do for him or her. I knew the only thing I could do was pray. My thoughts were spinning… did the man know the Lord as his Savior?  Who was he? Why was he out so early in the morning? Did he have a wife and children at home wondering where he might be? Then his cell phone rang, confirming there was someone out there who loved this man and was worried about his where a bouts.

The sun rose that morning just like it always had, the dawn of a new day revealed the mangled steel of a red Ford truck. First hitting a mailbox, then plowing into a large oak tree, the F-150 came to rest on its side. Debris was scattered across the grass of my daughter and her neighbor's lawn.

EMS workers were diligently doing their job, cleaning up the aftermath of this fatal accident. Papers and personal items were everywhere. Pieces of the truck were strewn all over the place. A folding lawn chair, still in its canvas bag lay in front of me. Then I saw it. An EMS worker held it in his hand. It was a black leather bound book. The man held the volume up for his co-workers to see. For the first time since I came upon the scene a slight smile brightened my face.

A feeling of relief came over me. The man was a believer; my heart felt lighter and my worry for him eased. I can only hope and pray that his family will find comfort in that leather bound volume, the book that holds all the truths of the world and the key to everlasting life. Death will someday swallow us all. It may come to us as quickly as the blink of an eye or we may linger in pain as a disease ravishes our body. Either way there is peace… if you only believe.

1 Corinthians 15: 52

In a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trump: for the trumpet shall sound, and the dead shall be raised incorruptible, and we shall be changed.