They say that the eye is the window to the soul. But it is the soul that is the window. ~ Andrew Hamilton

I had kind of a strange thought the other day as I sat watching my oldest grandson playing a wrestling video game.  Video animation has improved to the point where, if you come in unawares to a room where someone is playing a game, you aren't sure if what you're seeing is real or created.  The body movements are so fluid, so human-like.  That is, until the face turns towards the screen and you look into the eyes.  No matter how talented the animators of today are there is one thing they can't create:  a soul.  The eyes are flat and lifeless.  I have been with people who've died.  When the soul is gone from the body, the eyes are empty.  Sightless.  Immediately.

As my mother died, she shed one last tear.  The hospice nurse told my sister-in-law and me that many people do that.  Regrets?  Pain at leaving?  I don't know.  But once the soul is gone, it's gone.

People argue all the time about what a soul is.  What it isn't.  Where it goes.  Where it doesn't go.  That souls create auras around people.  That photographs show them leaving the body. 

I will tell you what my soul is.

It is the thoughts in my mind that are never quiet.  The voice of me.  The essence of my conscience.  The inner me who gazes out at the outside me.  I know it is contained inside of me and yet it isn't anything finite that I can hold up and show you.  It is the image looking back at me in the mirror.  The part of me that feels joy and sorrow, peace and anxiety, love and pain.  Who communicates with the outside world thru words and touch and gestures.  It feels the wind and holds its face up to the warmth of the sun.  It heard the voice of God and recognized it when it did.  And it yearned for something more...all my life...some way to fill the empty void it felt until it found the peace that passes all understanding.

And people will argue with me, when I tell them my soul was touched by God.  And that's ok.

I know what I know.

The feeling remains that God is on the journey, too. ~ Teresa of Avila

When we left Portland not only did we leave our home and our friends and our family.  We left behind our church as well.  And here in Michigan we are hundreds of miles from what we call one of our 'branch' churches that are scattered around the US and Canada here in North America.  The nearest two are in Chicago which is 266 to 303 miles away, depending on which route you take, and Kitchener, Ontario, Canada, which is 204 miles.  It's 133 miles inland from the US/Canada border so when you go to Kitchener you are definitely IN Canada and not some border town that seems as American to us as I'm sure our border towns seem almost Canadian to them.  Since we've been living in Michigan we've been 'worshiping' via the live internet broadcast of our Portland church's Sunday morning service.  Tho here, in the Eastern Time Zone, we're settling down on the couch at 2 pm.  It's been working very well for us, too...we 'see' everyone we know on the screen and, in all actuality, probably focus better on the music and the sermon better than we ever did 'live' in the sanctuary.  There aren't the people and noise distractions.  The cameras might scan the congregation here and there, but mostly it's on the musicians, choir, and pastor.  Very up-close and personal.

Even so...it's not quite the same.  I no longer have my beloved Aunt Lois to come and sit with me most Sundays.  I miss her sweet smile, her infectious laughter, her hugs and kisses.  We don't get to chitchat with dear friends.  I can no longer catch my dear friend Karen's eye across the sanctuary and I miss the discreet little waves we'd give each other.  But we made this choice to move.  We felt when we made that choice we were in the center of God's will for our lives.  And we still feel that just as strongly now as the day I boarded the jet to fly 'home' to the Detroit area, the day Dear Hubby and our daughter-in-law set out to drive 2/3 of the way across America.

In all of the official switching over from residence in one state to another, we of course needed to get new drivers licenses.  Here in Michigan because it borders Canada you can choose to apply for an enhanced license  which works almost like a Passport in allowing you to cross the border.  It has an embedded microchip in it and you have to keep it in a sheath for radio frequency protection.  I believe it's not only for easing the border crossing but also helps encourage commerce between the two countries, especially for towns and cities nearby.  It seems like a lot of information is needed to prove you live here in Michigan.  I told the clerk at the Secretary of State office I'd brought everything but my Death Certificate.  She thought that was pretty funny.  To get the enhanced license you have to provide answers for a couple of security questions.  They asked me, "What was your father's occupation at the time of your birth?"  I mean, really.  How many people would know that?  But I have a photographic memory and as I pictured my Birth Certificate in my mind I saw "mailman" and indeed he was.  Whewwwwwwwww.

Dear Hubby and I had been wanting to attend our church in Kitchener but we had to wait to have our enhanced licenses before we could go.  Mine finally came the Friday before Easter.  Not enough time to make plans.  So we decided to make the trip this past Sunday.  We drove to Port Huron and as we crossed the bridge there to Sarnia, Ontario, what a beautiful view of the port and Lake Huron!  It was my first trip ever into Canada so that was pretty exciting for me and crossing into the country was very pain free.  It was a gray and overcast day but even so the landscape was so pretty.  Many, many farms with barns and silos.  Well-maintained farm houses.  We stopped along the way to buy "petrol" and for a 'breather' - if you catch my meaning - and as we walked out to our vehicle a very nice young gentleman stopped us and asked us where we were from in Michigan...he'd spotted our license plate.  We told him from the Detroit area and he welcomed us to Canada and wished us a pleasant visit.  As we came to Kitchener, a city of 230,000, traffic became a little more congested.  We had Google Map directions and wouldn't you know they weren't quite right.  So we drove around in circles for a few minutes until I convinced my son to stop at a market so I could go in and ask for directions.  "From the States, eh?" the clerk asked me, and he was very kind and gave me excellent directions.  Got us right to the church.  We ended up being almost late...the musicians had already started playing...but the usher greeted us warmly and we went inside and took our seats.  We were given song books and people all around us smiled in welcome.  And then the congregational singing started!  There was a piano.  An accordian.  A couple of guitars.  A choir with 14 members.  And mercy, they almost took the rafters off the building.  It was WONDERFUL!!  The vast majority of the congregation is Canadians from Newfoundland who'd moved inland to find work.  And they love their music and they love to sing!  I could have sat there and just listened and sung along with them the rest of the day.  I had never experienced anything like it in my life!  And such a sweet, sweet Spirit in that place.  Such a sweet, sweet Spirit in the prayer service that followed.  And then every congregant came up and either shook hands with us or gave me friendly, heartfelt hugs.  They made me feel as if I'd been coming there forever!  The pastor and his wife invited us over for dinner and what an amazing experience that was, too, being welcomed so warmly into their home and being made to feel so comfortable and at ease.  I know Canada is 'right next door' to America but it still IS another country and what a privilege it was to be invited into a family's home to share food and wonderful fellowship.  I felt like a sponge the entire day, just soaking it all in.  And all too soon it was time to head back to 'the States'...it was a 3-hour drive to get there, 3 hours to get home.  But worth every penny in gas, every mile traveled on that smooth and clean Canadian freeway!

And will we go back?  Oh my, a million times yes!  As long as gas prices don't go thru the roof.  As long as the Lord wills.  No matter where in the world you go, God is still the same today, yesterday, and forever.

Genius is more often found in a cracked pot than in a whole one. ~ E.B. White

This morning was cool for the first time in several days so the grandboys and I decided it'd be a good day for a bus ride and walk. I'd given them some of those cheap disposable cameras to take pictures a while back and I've been meaning to get them in to Walgreen's to get the film developed. I am notoriously bad about doing stuff like that, so those cameras have been battered and banged about and chucked in to the bottom of the toy bins more than once. In fact, we had to empty out one of the bins this morning to find one of the cameras. Once we got them collected we took off to walk the two blocks to the bus stop where we'd catch the first bus on our trip.



Coopy loves to hold the bus tickets as we walk along and as we wait for a bus to come. He's quite reliable. He considers himself quite the big boy being given this responsibility and takes it quite seriously. He has never lost or dropped one yet. So when the bus pulled up I lifted him on to the step as Dylan stepped on too and started to get on myself when Cooper looked at me with a stricken look on his face and said, "Ahma! Ticket!" and pointed back out behind me. I turned around and sure enough...the ticket sat in the middle of the sidewalk. So I asked the driver to hold on a sec while I went to retrieve it. I stepped down. And the next thing I know, I'm on the ground. Right on my rear end! In the middle of the sidewalk. But I swooped up the ticket, hopped on the bus, and deposited it in the kiosk. The driver, a woman around my age, was so concerned. "Are you sure you're ok?" I laughed and said yes, I was just fine. The only thing bruised was my dignity. She reassured me, "Honey, no one saw you except me anyway." And I looked back in the bus and all there were for passengers was an older man nodding off in his seat and a teenager with ear plugs hunched over texting away. I sat down with the boys and she and I began to chuckle. "Oh, the things you get to see during the working day, huh? At least when I sat on my seat I was well-padded!" I said. That got us both to giggling and she said, "Honey, you just went down so smooth!"

When I go in for crash-landings that's how I like to do it....smooooooooooooth!

I blame it on my progressive lenses. That's the third time I've misstepped. My depth perception is very tricky with them.

Anyway...we did our walking and our bus transferring and made it to Walgreen's and back and bought a pizza for lunch. The boys took a good nap. I read several pages of a book my bloggy friend Pam had written about on her blog. Dylan woke up first and we went out back to check on the garden. My neighbor Sharon called over the fence and asked us to come over...she wanted to show something to me. She and her husband just had new grass planted in their back yard and they're leaving on Friday to go to Yakima to visit her sick aunt so she showed me the grass and asked if I'd be kind enough to water it on Saturday for them. Not a problem.

Dylan and I went back home and as I was getting some juice for the boys he came in to the kitchen and asked, "Gram, why is Sharon going to Yakima?" And I told him about her aunt who's very sick. He wandered off and then came back to me a few minutes later. "Gram," he said, "Can we pray to Jesus right now and ask Him to make Sharon's aunt all better?"

Oh, that touched my heart! And when I told Sharon about it later, needless to say it touched hers, too.

So of course I said yes, and he hugged me as we prayed together.

A little child shall lead them.

A Broken Heart -- Revisited!

(original artwork for this project by
Kathleen Snider)

How surreal. This afternoon I'd gone to my church's website to look something up and the first sentence of a story in the Youth section caught my eye. I thought, "Well, why does that look familiar?" So I clicked on it and lo and behold, it was one of my stories that I'd written around 25 years ago! Back in the early 80s two other writers and I spent 3 years writing Sunday School curriculum for primary aged children. The curriculum, to my knowledge, has been used by our English-speaking churches worldwide. Since it's been years since my own children have been in that age group I didn't know if our writing was still being used or not...but my random visit to the website showed me that indeed it is. I've mentioned several times in my blog about this writing so here's a sample of my child-level writing:

"A Broken Heart"

Julie and Tara had volunteered to stay after Sunday school to help Mrs. Evans, their teacher, decorate the classroom. First they took down the cutouts of snowflakes and other wintertime decorations, setting them neatly on the table. After Mrs. Evans rummaged around a bit in a cupboard, she came over to the table with a big box in her arms and put it down.
“It will sure be nice to put these winter things away and hang up some springtime decorations,” said Mrs. Evans, smiling at the girls. “I know spring doesn't really come until next month. But after all the ice and snow we've had, I'm really looking forward to seeing the trees budding and the sun shining!”
“What do you have in the box?” Tara asked.
“The Garden of Eden.” Mrs. Evans opened the box and very carefully eased the miniature garden onto the table.
“Oh, how neat!” Julie exclaimed in delight as she and Tara examined Mrs. Evans' creation. She had made tiny trees and flowers, little lambs out of cotton, and a pond with miniature ducks on it. There were even dolls representing Adam and Eve! And right in the center of the garden was a red heart.
“What is that heart doing there?” Tara wondered aloud, looking at it curiously.
Mrs. Evans smiled at her. “Touch it,” she said.
Tara gave a questioning look, but when her teacher nodded she reached out and touched the heart. To her amazement it fell apart!
“It broke!” Tara turned to her teacher. “Oh, Mrs. Evans, I'm sorry!”
“No, no, don't worry Tara .” Mrs. Evans hugged the girl. “It's supposed to break.”
“But, why?” Julie wanted to know.
“Because it represents God's heart,” Mrs. Evans said as she put the pieces together again. “You see, God loved Adam and Eve with all His heart. He made Adam in His own image. Then, when they sinned and went against the things God had taught them, it broke His heart.”
“That's so sad,” Tara sighed.
“Yes, it was sad for them. But our lives can have a happy ending,” Mrs. Evans told the girls as she set the rebuilt heart back into the garden. “It hurts Jesus when we sin. But, if we pray to Him and tell Him we're sorry for our sins, just as Tara told me she was sorry for breaking the heart, it makes Jesus happy. And our hearts are happy too!

For all have sinned, and come short of the glory of God.
— Romans 3:23 --

And -- back to my 'adult' voice here -- isn't it wonderful to know it's just that simple? What a trip down memory lane!

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.