I walk on down the street and hear her voice behind me... wait... I want to give you something, too... and I stop and look back to see her moving toward me with a plastic shopping bag in her hand... I wait for her... and she reaches me, all smiles and joy, and pulls a lovely red-straw hat with a red and purple rose on it from the bag and hands it to me... I want you to have this, she says... and I take it from her and settle it on my head... our smiles fill the air between us... and I say thank you... and after we exchange a big hug, she tells me... somebody gave it to me last night and I want you to have it... they said it’s, it’s, it’s... and I finish for her... the red hat club?... and she smiles and exclaims, Yes! but I don’t know where it is... I don’t know how to find it... and I tell her it’s in our hearts... not a place... the red hat club is women over 50, which is me for sure... and she says it’s her, too, but she wants me to have the lovely hat...

And she links arms with me and says she will make sure I get across the street okay... and she dances along beside me... our arms linked... singing an old Beatles song... all you need is love, love... all you need is love... and I sing along with her... we reach the corner... she pushes the button on the light pole... and we wait for the walk signal... we are still singing... she is still dancing... then she walks across the street with me... and we stop and hug each other goodbye... and I walk on to my office... still wearing the red hat... looking back before I enter my building to see her safely cross the street and on her way back to her doorway... still dancing... still smiling...

We entertain angels unawares...

An angel gave her a red hat and it gave her joy...

An angel gave me the red hat and the joy spread to me...

And Tuesday night when I go to the nursing home, an angel will give the red hat to a lonely little lady who always, always, always wears hats... and the joy will spread to her...

And whenever I or anyone else sees her proudly wearing her red hat... the joy will spread to us...

We entertain angels unawares...

when she leaves the store... he is standing outside the door... looking a little lost... as if he is waiting for someone... and as is her custom, she smiles and speaks... good evening... (for you never know if your smile is the only one someone may get that day...) and then goes on her way... loads her groceries into the car... gets in... key in hand... and there is a tapping at the passenger window... she looks up to see him there...

his is not a threatening presence... and she reaches across... rolls the window about one-third of the way down... and he asks in broken english... “i got chance call you sometime?” she replies with a question of her own... “pardon?” he repeats... “i got chance call you sometime?” and understanding dawns... she smiles and shakes her head... “well, you could, but I’m married and my husband wouldn’t like it.”

panic crosses his face... he holds both hands up... palms toward her... and begins to back away... “sorry... sorry... i am sorry...” and breaks into a run...

she laughs to herself... life is never, ever boring... and she goes home to her wonderful husband...

She came... she stayed... she conquered hearts wherever she went. We all loved her. And she loved us... loved God... loved our pastor and his family. If the doors to the church were open, she was there. Her servant’s heart beat for us all, and we knew when we asked her to pray that she really would... and did. Yet that heart was frail... often threatening to fail her... she had more open-heart surgeries and procedures than anyone I ever knew, and she was just a young woman, certainly younger than me... sometimes spent weeks in the hospital... visited by one and all.

I remember one particular hospitalization when she was in a hospital near where I worked, and I could pop over to visit her after work... take her something from "outside" to eat... and we’d sit and talk and talk and talk... laughing.. whispering... sharing secrets... philosophizing... dreaming... and when visiting hours were over, the nurses just smiled and left us alone... some nights I was there til 10:30 or 11 at night because she didn’t want me to leave.

In spite of her fragility, she volunteered every year at Camp Victory... a children’s church camp we held down in south Georgia in the heat of July every summer... working right there in the kitchen from before sunup til near midnight every day for a week... on Mondays, excitement triumphed... on Tuesdays, feet began to ache... on Wednesdays, we’d sit together on the side of the tub with our feet soaking in cold water every chance we got... on Thursdays, sadness crept in as we realized the week was almost over... and on Fridays, we cried because it was over for this year and began planning for next year... Cheryl never let her heart hold her back...

She was my friend through trial and tragedy... encouraging me, loving me, caring for me and everyone around her...

Her devotion was especially strong for our preacher... her "man of God," she called him... and even when his life took a wrong turn and he began to abuse the position God put him, she didn’t waiver... if he put some of us away, she honored his commands, and at the risk of breaking her own heart, she put us away, too... hence, I lost touch with her for a while...but never stopped loving her, caring for her, praying for her... and I always believed she never stopped loving and praying for me, either...

Yesterday, I learned her frail heart had quit on her... and she went home to be with Jesus...

At the funeral home tonight, looking down on the shell she left behind, I mourned the lost time of these last three years... and wished I’d not stayed away... wished I’d been there for the subsequent hospitalizations... for the good times and bad... for the joys and tears... I learned from her husband and others that she’d never stopped grieving the loss of my physical presence in her life... and it saddens me anew that we allowed a man with feet of clay to keep us apart... for the God he claimed to serve would never have had it that way...

Alas... the last three years are gone... but the years before that are fresh and beautiful in my memory... and the timeless beauty of heaven waits before us... where we’ll walk streets of gold together... see you later, Cheryl... God bless...

Eight years ago, my world crashed... my marriage fell apart... my then-husband felt compelled to run away from home in search of completion he didn’t find at home... and I thought I’d die... thought my heart would simply stop beating... my lungs would stop pumping air... and in the midst of the pain, God filled my heart with a peace that surpassed understanding... gave me strength to get through each day one minute at a time... then one hour at a time... then one day at a time...

God was (and is) always, always sublimely and supremely faithful to hold me up and love me... to fill my heart with love and prayers instead of anger or bitterness... and finally the wounds healed and I was able to let go of the past and grasp the future... and God prepared me for the man who is now my husband... whose life and love and faith I share... and I can say with all honesty that my cup runneth over... that I am indeed a woman blessed among women... that I am where I belong to be... and with whom I belong to be with...

I share that story with you to set the scene for this one...

One of the blessings He gave me during that dark time was Dina... a new friend whose heart beat for mine... who prayed for me... and talked to me... who listened to me and wept with me... and who, on my wedding anniversary that first year, left her three babies at home with their father in New Jersey to travel to the deep south to spend the weekend with me...

I met her at the airport... literally... we were internet friends... telephone friends... letter writing friends... till that point...

I had a bouquet of helium balloons with me so she’d recognize me... she knew I was blonde and I knew she was brunette... we hadn't even exchanged photos... and, oh, how we laughed with delight when we realized we were both wearing jeans, brown boots, and matching black tops... and the sisterly love that had begun in hours of online chat was cemented at first sight... as we walked through the airport on the way to my car, she took the greatest delight in handing out the balloons one at a time to children we passed along the way...

Our weekend was full and blessed... we had surprise gifts for one another... I’d gotten her an Atlanta Braves shirt... and she had me a New York Yankees shirt... we had plans to go to a tatoo shop the next morning and get me a little heart tattoo (Dina had a little rose)... but we went that night and did it... we had so much fun playing around and entertained everybody there... I wanted a teensy, teensy dime-sized heart and Dina exclaimed, “Omigoodness... you can’t get one that little... have you seen the size of your canvas lately?” I thought I’d choke, I laughed so hard... and I got one a little bigger... she paid for it... called it my un-anniversary gift...

We went home and watched her then-favorite television show... Cops... and I still never hear “Bad Boys, Bad Boys, whatcha gonna do, whatcha gonna do when we come for you?” without thinking of Dina...

We got up the next morning and surprised each other in the kitchen wearing matching clothes again... this time jeans and long-sleeved chocolate colored tops we’d both bought at Victoria’s Secret... we went to Underground Atlanta... Five Points... and Little Five Points... ate lunch at a sidewalk cafe... bought matching souvenirs... little elephants... then went out to supper at my favorite Cajun restaurant and sampled nearly everything on the menu... okay, maybe not everything, but we had four or five entrees filling our table and not nearly enough room for it all inside our tummies...

She went to church with me the next morning... didn’t bring a dress to wear because we knew we were both the same size, so she wore one of mine... and she being Catholic and me going to a little Missionary Baptist church, it was an adventure... she asked me what would happen and I tried to give her the run-down ahead of time... I sang in the choir and she kept waving at me and giggling because she knew that sedate me in the choir had a brand new tattoo... and I waved back... she put a note in the collection basket that said, “Dear Jesus, please take care of my friend because she loves you and she needs you.” (I know because the preacher showed it to me later.) She asked me if he would yell and I told her no, but I was so used to the pastor’s preaching that I didn’t even notice he did yell til I looked over to see her cringing... and she whispered, “You said he didn’t yell... he’s yelling!” I said, “No he’s not,” and she said, “Yes, he is!” and I suddenly realized, omigosh... he is!!!!” When we left, she had a hundred questions... what does he mean by saved... why were they dedicating the baby... and more... and I answered them all the best I could.

I made teddy bears for her babies for Christmas... and we shared more love and laughter, tears and smiles, secrets and stories... our friend Robbie, who Dina introduced me to because she said we were both spiritual and talked about God the same way... once sent us both big packages full of treats, including home-made brownies... and Dina called me to ask if I’d eaten mine yet and I told her I was about to, and she said, “Well, you eat yours and if you don’t die, I’ll eat mine”... and I ate mine, and she ate hers, and the brownies were, incidentally, delicious, and neither of us died... in fact, Robbie was one of the groomsmen at my wedding a couple of years ago...

Then... a couple of years later... in 2002... she was in a freak motorcycles accident in New York where there are no helmet laws... and my beloved Dina didn’t wake up...

Enter Donna... Dina’s heart friend... with children of her own... who went to the hospital practically every day after work to see Dina... to talk to her... to play Dina’s favorite music for her... to put lotion on her sweet skin... to exercise her arms and legs... and did this with love and devotion for years, till Dina was moved to an upstate facility too far away for Donna to go to as frequently, but she still went every chance she got. I’d write to Donna once in a blue moon to let her know that I still loved and remembered, and prayed and thought of Dina every day... to let her know Dina wasn’t and never will be forgotten...

And then I met the man who is now my husband... married... changed my name... moved... (had already changed my phone number, thanks to a stalker...) and didn’t get back in touch with Donna til a week or so ago... just a little card to let her know I was still praying for Dina... still loved her and thought of her... and that I was praying for her, Donna, too...

Last night I got home to a card from Donna... Dina died in March 2006... Donna had tried to reach me, but couldn’t find me...

And so I sat last night and wept for the beautiful... inside and out... friend who is no longer of this world... am weeping now... I trust and believe she is with Jesus now... and no longer locked in a prison of darkness and still and quiet as she was those last four years of her young life... and I am grateful beyond measure to have known her... to have crossed paths with her... to carry her memories in my heart and soul... grateful that she had a friend like Donna who was there for her...

Please, God, bless her children... let them always know how much You love them... how much their mother loved them... and how very, very special she was...

I loved her... I miss her...

My nephew and his bride are expecting their first child on their first wedding anniversary...
I’m happy for them, and excited for them... even never having had a child of my own, I know it’s an amazing thing to have a baby... to carry it safely in your tummy for those nine months... to see it born... to love it and hold it, cherish and protect it, to play with it and teach it.. and raise it up in the love of the Lord...

And even while my heart is overflowing with joy and anticipation of the newest little one to love, it is also breaking over the surrounding circumstances... my nephew is in jail awaiting an uncertain fate... and his bride is essentially alone... my heart breaks that they aren’t together to share every minute of this amazing journey together...

I’m praying, of course, for the judge to look upon Trey with favor... for one more instance of leniency... one more chance... not because he deserves it... he doesn’t, but then, neither do any of us deserve the favor in our lives, so in that respect he's no different than you or me... but I’m hoping for one more chance anyway... for Katie to have a husband by her side to protect her and provide for her... for my new little nephew or niece to have a daddy in his life... for Trey to stand up and be the man he should be...

I think he’s in the belly of the whale now... and like Jonah, he paid his own way in... but when the whale spits him out onto shore, I pray that He is a changed man... one his son can look up to... one his daughter can model her future husband after... one under whose protection his wife can rest safely and securely... I pray that he will have learned that he cannot risk their future and security for any momentary pleasure... that every action has a consequence... and that some prices are too high to pay...

And yet... even in the darkness... even as storm clouds hover over the place he is locked away... there is a blessing forming... a child about to be born... a babe on its way... a baby who will be deeply loved and wanted by his parents, his grandparents, his aunts and uncles and cousins...

Welcome, little one... I can hardly wait to meet you... and I can hardly wait for you to meet your mommy and daddy... I suspect their hearts are about to burst with love for your this very minute...

That's very true... most of us would rather stay in the misery we know than step out and take a chance on the joy we don't know... that's a peculiar thing... and it reaches further than emotional wellbeing... it applies to every aspect of life... like being content to make it from paycheck to paycheck, juggling bills, watching loved ones in need... rather than stepping out and tackling something new (like my Shaklee) that has the potential to make a dramatic change in the financial area of my life... if I don't do it, things stay like they are... and if I do, they'll either get better or not, but they won't get worse... seems like it'd be a no-brainer... but we humans tend to like to stay in our shells, even when they get too tight... fiddler crabs are smarter... lol...

"It sure is," I answered.

And then sleep took us to sweet dreams.

She stood there in her sandals and bell-bottom blue jeans... widely flared legs covered in dozens of hours of painstaking hand embroidery depicting rolling hills, trees, flowers, a boy and girl running hand in hand around the bottom of one leg... and a hill dotted with tiny figures at the feet of three crosses on the other leg... wearing a man’s thin white cotton tank tee-shirt... the old-fashioned kind that her grandfather wore... her blonde hair hanging nearly to her waist in two Indian braids ... red bandana tried around her head like an Indian head-band... silver and turquoise bracelets and rings adorned her wrists and fingers... huge hoop earrings with home-made peace signs fashioned of brown wire hung from her ears... skin browned with the sun... no make-up but the glow of youth and a touch of mascara to darken the eyelashes that were naturally as blonde as her hair... a coloring book in one hand... box of crayons in the other... leather wine-skin filled with water hanging over her shoulder... and she waited on the curb for a taxicab that only charged 50 cents to take her across town to where she wanted to go... her destination the grassy wildflower-filled median that separated the two lanes of traffic going into and leaving town... who can say now why that spot appealed to her... but it did... and when she arrived... she settled herself down on the grass... in the midst of an ocean of summer color and the buzzing of honeybees... and gave herself over to the simple pleasure of coloring the pages before her... feeling the breeze brush over her arms and face... the sun warming her and painting another layer of color on exposed skin... glancing up now and then at an occasional car going past... with the delight and pleasure that came from a mind at ease with herself and the world around her... her mother said she was the original flower child... minus the drugs....

*******************************

I look out my umpteenth floor window onto a blanket of trees... every shade of green imaginable... and one stands out... a huge old magnolia tree... covered in white blossoms... visible even from this height and distance... one tree that stands alone in the crowd...

At a beach last summer in Virginia, I walked the shore line and came upon a spectacle that made me laugh out loud... hundreds... no, thousands of conch shells as far as I could see.. fat ones, skinny ones, small ones, medium ones, big ones, even a few very large ones... and I thought I’d hit the gold mine until I realized that they all seemed to be occupied by hermit crabs... and I couldn’t bring myself to steal anyone’s home... so I left them where they lay... and as I walked slowly through them... taking pictures... watching them scitter and scatter... one remained... unmoved... unoccupied... alone in the crowd... until I picked it up and took it home...

She fancies herself invisible... imagines that no one sees her... no one knows her... that she is part of the picture but not part of the substance... that if tomorrow the “without a trace” detectives came here, showing her photograph and asking, have you seen this woman... there would be no one who remembered... even tho for twenty years she has stood in the same place... wrapping their purchases... counting their change... she feels... alone in the crowd...

He walks in the door... takes a seat... spirits temporarily rising with the music... waits... spirits dropping swiftly... watches life swirling around him... gazes brushing past and through him... words sounding around him... laughter... animation... a little anger across the room somewhere... the waitress takes his order without making eye contact, all the while looking around her to see who’s leaving, who’s coming in, whose glass is empty, whose plate is sliding across the table, what she needs to do, where she needs to be next... and he realizes no one knows he is here... no one will know when he leaves... and he feels... alone in the crowd....

And yet... no one is ever truly alone in the crowd... God is there... our Father... our King... our Lord... our Savior... He goes everywhere with us... the good places and the bad... waiting to be noticed... longing to be reached out to... asking to be loved.... to be wanted...

We... sometimes... fancy ourselves invisible... alone in the crowd... and yet if we only looked up to Him... we’d see we never are...

And He... in all His glory... all His wonder... all His splendor... too often truly is alone in the crowd....

Aliens took it....

No, my dog ate it...

Not the big one... the little one... Minnie, that little four-pounds soaking wet dollbaby... yeah, that’s it... Minnie ate it... okay... gotta write this down so they’ll know... ouch!!!! stubbed my toe again... well, phooey... okay... roll the chair back... get situated... pull the keyboard tray out where I can reach it... lean wayyyyyy forward and start typing... hit the print key... turn toward the printer... ouch!!!! banged my knee... wipe away the tears... back up... lean wayyyyyy foward to retrieve my paper from the printer... ohhhhhhhhh, my aching back... roll back... turn to my desk... ouch!!!!! hit my ankle... uh, oh... the phone is ringing... turn... slide over... ouch!!!! banged my shin again... reach wayyyyyyyyyyy across for the phone... turn to grab a pen... ouch!!!!! there goes my toe again... and I suddenly realize why I’ve been covered in bruises for months... and why I can never, ever, ever get my legs and feet under my desk... it’s the missing cookbook... in pieces and chapters... in illustrations and photos... in boxes... under my desk... waiting to be finished and put together....

The truth isn’t nearly so entertaining as say... aliens took it... or my little bitty dog ate it...

Yet... the best of Tuesdays is yet to come...

When I enter the door, I see people headed down the hall toward the chapel... some walking... some tottering... some wheeling their way... some under their own steam... and some with assistance... faces intent on the journey... faces filled with anticipation... some in hospital gowns or pajamas... some dressed in their Sunday best... and one sweet little lady who always, always wears a Sunday-go-to-meeting hat... as I take the nearest wheelchair in hand and head down the hallway, I can hear the strains of music coming to me... voices raised in worship... guitars and piano filling the air with accompanying music... and then I round the corner to find them all their... happy faces... sad faces... lonely faces... empty faces... excited faces... all kinds of faces... and over the next hour, the music and God’s Presence lifts them all... lifts us all...

Of the group that sings, Sister and I just can’t stand still... we have to move... and dance... winding our way around the room... touching... holding... hugging... saying “I love you”... to every single body there.... once... twice... three times... as often as we can throughout the hour we are there... “this little light of mine... I’m gonna let it shine... let it shine, shine, shine, shine... I’m gonna let it shine....” “somebody touched me...”

We sing... we laugh... we love... and we close with prayer and the Pledge of Allegience to the flag of the United States of America...

And then I go home to more blessings... my wonderful husband... the safety of our home... a roof over my head... a warm bed to sleep in... food to eat... water do drink...

But... this past Tuesday there was an extra blessing... a special blessing...

One of the precious ladies who meets us there to sing shared her story... a story of fearsome tidings... of cancerous “stones” in the glands in her neck and her pending surgery last year... of the pity and regret her surgeon felt over what he had to do and her slim chances of surviving... and of how God doesn’t give us a spirit of fear, but of love and strength and a sound mind... and how she didn’t let the doctor’s knowledge of medical science hinder her belief in a God who is bigger than anything man can say or do...

She says she’s a “holy roller” and that the night before her surgery she knelt at the front of her small church with the congregation all around her, those close enough to lay hands on her did so, and those who couldn’t get close enough laid their hands on the ones they could reach... a continuous web of love... and they prayed for healing while she knelt there with her hands on her neck... and she felt the knots on one side of her neck just melt away and disappear...

When she went to the hospital the next day for her surgery, the surgeon was stunned... it had only been two days since she’d seem him for her for pre-op... and he asked her what had happened...

She told him God took them away... and he asked "What did you say?"...

She told him again that God took them away... and he called someone else into the room and made her repeat it... shaking his head the whole time... and he asked her why God took them from one side and not the other side if it was God who did it, and she told him "Because of you... He wanted you to hear about it." She told him she wasn't afraid to go into surgery for the ones on the other side, that God had a plan and she was anxious to see what it was going to be. When she woke up in recovery, her surgeon was in a chair sitting beside her bed, holding her hand. He accepted Jesus as his Lord and Savior.

It's easier to have Faith and Hope when you aren't being blinded by knowledge...

Sooooooo... get ready... get set... go!!!!

Might seem like a simple thing. My baby brother is leaving on the World Race... a year-long journey that will take him to Mexico, Guatemala, Nicaragua, Peru, Argentina, South Africa, Swaziland, Kenya, India, Cambodia, China and Hong Kong...

But Miracle and I often reach beneath the obvious when we talk... and altho the obvious answer is that my baby brother is leaving and I’m scared... there's more to it than the obvious.

I know that God loves my baby brother more than I do, hard as that is to imagine... and I know he will be in God’s keeping all the way... that God has a plan and a purpose for Clinton’s life, and that Clinton, unlike so many of us, is giving his life over to that plan, following the path set before him...

And I am proud of him beyond words... I think of the rich young ruler who loved God and followed the law, and asked Jesus what more he could do... and Jesus answered him that he should sell all that he had and follow Jesus...but the young man walked away sadly because he had great wealth and couldn’t walk away from it.

These young people... my brother and the other World Racers... are sacrificially leaving all that they know behind them... the wealth of this world... security, home, family, friends, hot showers, an endless assortment of food, movies, television, electricity, cars, church, all the comforts of home, the things we take so for granted that we sometimes forget how blessed we are... they are leaving all that behind to head into the wilderness in small teams, carrying all that they have in packs upon their backs... not knowing in advance where they will be, how they will get there, what they will eat or where they will sleep... and they’re doing it all for love of Jesus.

I cry because I’m proud of him... I cry because I am afraid for him... I cry because my heart yearns to go yet I tell myself I am unable to go when the truth is I am unwilling to make that sacrifice or I would... I cry because I want him home, safe and sound, so that I know where he is and how he is...

My prayer is that God will keep him safe, and healthy... that he will be blessed abundantly in seeing the fruits of his labor for the Lord... that he will plant seeds where none now grow... that he will fertilize and tend to a crop planted by those who went before him... and that he will harvest crops lovingly planted and tended in anticipation of his arrival... I pray that he will have enough to eat and a safe place to sleep each night... that God will open hearts and doors ahead of him every step of the way, meeting every need, providing for every circumstance... that everywhere he will see God’s hand in all he beholds, in all he does... that he will find strength and wisdom, courage and delight, joy and peace, compassion and growth... that he will come away from this journey... this Great Commission... with his cup overflowing... I pray this for all the World Racers...

And I remind myself that his life is firmly in the hand of God... and so is mine... and that being the case, then we are in the same hand and never far apart.

My sadness is tempered with joy...

I love my little brother... my cup runneth over with love for him... and spills down my face as tears...