Bring the past only if you are going to build from it. ~ Doménico Cieri Estrada

Paths

(For Sara)

Our path starts
from the moment of conception.
We float in darkness
and dream to the beat
of our mother's
heart.
And once we're here
our path
is directed by
those around us,
those who make decisions
for us.
We are like grains of sand,
blown this way
and that,
no sense of direction,
no light.
But as the winds ripple,
the gales howl,
a sweet breeze is there
at the end of
the tunnel.
It lifts us and buoys us.
It beckons to us
and we find ourselves
shifting our
path
in that direction.
We find ourselves
straining our faces upwards
towards the sun,
the promise of warmth
and
sustenance.
The promise of
a
beautiful day.

With Love,
Aunt Kris

A little faith will bring your soul to heaven, but a lot of faith will bring heaven to your soul. ~ Author Unknown

You can think what you will about this post but because this, most importantly, is my personal journal for my grandsons to read someday, I am going to share this. There may be some of you out there who read this and will scoff. There are those of you who may read it and not believe it. And then there are those of you who will read it and rejoice with me in what a wonderful Savior we serve. But what I am telling you is the absolute truth.

This morning I awoke with a start. I'd heard some kind of noise and I lay there in the dark, straining my ears, trying to figure out what I'd heard. Dear Hubby was already up...the alarm hadn't gone off at 5 and it was now almost 5:45 so I figured he must've awakened before the alarm and turned it off, that he'd be downstairs in his den where he goes to read his Bible and pray every morning. I went down quietly and peeked in the door, not wanting to disturb him. And there he was, just as I knew he'd be, on his knees lost in prayer. So I crept back upstairs, got my breakfast ready, and went to sit on the couch with my coffee and bagel. He came upstairs a few minutes later and as he came in to the living room he told me, "I don't know what's wrong but I'm really confused." Alarm bells went off in my head. "What do you mean? What's wrong?" I asked him. But he couldn't tell me, outside of the fact he was very 'befuddled' and couldn't figure out what was real and what wasn't. I had him sit down. I asked him if he knew what year it was, who's the President of the United States, what year he was born, his birthday. I checked his pupils, had him track my finger with his eyes, and had him write down his name. He passed those tests with flying colors but I could tell there was something really, really wrong with him. So I sat beside him on the couch and we talked. I told him about how I am attacked by the devil sometimes...I spent 7 years deeply involved in satanism and the occult when I was young...and how the devil can get to me in dreams in ways he no longer can when I'm awake, how we're so much more vulnerable when we're asleep. That sometimes after one of those kinds of nightmares I wake up and I don't know where I'm at, whether I'm in reality or still stuck in dreams. It's very disorienting. But he said no, this was different. He couldn't tell if what he was thinking now was something that had happened or if it hadn't. I got up and grabbed my Bible and brought it over to him. I said, "Hold on to this. This is what's real. The Lord knows what's wrong." And as he held it he began to weep. I put my hand on his shoulder and I began to pray with all my heart and what can I say but the Power fell from Heaven like a bolt of lightning. It's giving me goose bumps all over again as I'm writing this. The Lord truly came down and met us there. I have never, ever felt anything like it in my entire life. And as we finished praying together Dear Hubby looked at me and said, "I'm fine now. It's gone!" Just like that, in a moment of time.

You can argue this with me until the end of time but I know this is true. I was there. I witnessed it. God still hears and answers prayer.

Turn around and they're one, turn around and they're 4...

I stumbled across this gem today, sticking out cockeyed from a bookshelf Dear Hubby and I have in the bedroom. As I went by and began giving it a push back in alignment with the other books I stopped when I realized what it was: an autobiography written by my son when he was 9 years old. As well as that, there was also a biography in it he wrote about me:

"When my mom was little she had a dog. My mom has 3 brothers. There names are K, T, and E. K is the oldest of her brothers. My mom ran away one day and when her dad found her and her friend he took them to have ice cream. One day at school she was caught reding a book when she should be working. Then her teacher took the book and burned it up. She married a man named D. She loved D. He looks nice. She had my sister in 1977. She had me when she was 22. Her favorite foods are apples, popcorn, and elk meat. My mom is very pretty. She has brown hair, beautiful eyes. She loves me very, very much and I love her! She likes writing and reading and a hole lot of stuff. She likes watching baseball games if there exciting. She is a busy mom. She is very alergic to cotton wood trees."

It was my Mother's Day gift that year. Taped inside is a paper tulip he'd made and given me, too.

I write about my grandboys a lot. But when I read thru this little journal this morning, this book written by my son who is their father, it transported me back 22 years ago as if it was yesterday. And I remembered the darling little boy with the flyaway hair, the skinny little butt that needed suspenders to keep his pants up, and cowboy boots splattering thru every mud puddle they could find. And I marvelled and was appalled at how fast those years have gone by. Did I treasure them enough, him enough? And as I searched my heart I knew that I had. But if I'd only known then what I know now I would've treasured them more.