When God Speaks

A heathen philosopher once asked a Christian, 'Where is God'? The Christian answered, 'Let me first ask you, Where is He not?'
Aaron Arrowsmith

About six months after my grandfather passed away, I had a dream.  In this dream, I was in front of a closed door - the door to my grandfather's hospital room.  I opened the door and walked into the room.  The room was devoid of everything except my grandfather lying in his hospital bed with a white bedspread covering him to his chest.  His arms were outstretched on either side of him and Jesus was standing beside his bed.  My grandfather appeared to be sleeping but I instinctively knew he wasn't.  Jesus looked straight at me and said "It's too late for your grandfather but it's not too late for you.  Salvation is not a joke.  It's real."  Just like that, the dream was over.


That was 34 years ago and while some unimportant parts of the dream may have become fuzzy with time (were Grandpa's arms covered or out from under the covers?), every word spoken by Jesus has stayed crystal clear in my mind.  I spent a lot of time worrying about that "too late for your grandfather" part even though I know my grandfather was a born-again Christian man whose last moments on earth were spent in prayer.  I don't think the point of those five words were as important as the next seven:  "but it's not too late for you".


There has never been a doubt in my mind that I was in receipt of a Divine warning - not a warning such as a threat but more like a warning that is intended to keep you safe. The best thing I can think of with which to compare this "Divine warning" would be in the same context a parent "warns" a child to look both ways before crossing the street or to never get in a car with strangers.  It came from the purest and most profound love imaginable.


I've always known that I was supposed to tell people about my dream but never spoke of it until a few years ago when I felt the urge to tell a very small group of acquaintances. Even then, I didn't tell them everything.  I wasn't sure what was holding me back.  Maybe I just wasn't ready.  I don't know.  Whatever it was, the need for me to 'go public', if you will, is stronger than whatever kept me quiet.


I have no idea how many people read my blog - if ANYONE reads it, actually - but I know deep inside that someone somewhere needs to read this one and that God will lead whoever they may be to this entry.


Finally, I believe that God talks to all of us when we need it. I leave you with one question:  What do you do when God speaks to you?

Does the World Need Changing?

"I alone cannot change the world but I can cast a stone across the waters to create many ripples."
~Mother Theresa~

I consider myself to be an optimist.  I have to believe that there's hope for everything.  In my mind, no hope means no reason to continue - whether it be fighting a war, curing a disease, ending racism, rallying against intolerance or any number of a myriad of "causes" one chooses to embrace.  I'm going to speak about a few of those things that are close to my heart.


1.  The war on Christianity.  I challenge anyone to tell me that isn't happening right now.  All across America and some parts of the world, Christian symbols are deemed "offensive".  How many times have you heard about one group or another wanting to remove any references to God from all kinds of things?  Take "In God We Trust" off of our money and stop saying "Under God" when we recite the Pledge of Allegiance.  Remember all the flack that was dumped on Tim Tebow when he knelt in a short prayer on the football field?  Who exactly was he harming or forcing to do the same?


A perfect (and probably the first noticeable) example of this is Christmas.  We have always had Christmas parties, Christmas trees, Christmas vacations.  Now we have holiday parties, holiday trees and winter breaks.  I'm the first to admit that I don't know much about how Christmas began but I do know that it's traditionally been the celebration of the birth of Christ for centuries.  Even atheists celebrated Christmas.  They simply omitted any reference to the birth of Jesus and focused, instead, on Santa Claus.


Not convinced?  Here are a few more examples:  A teen in Tennessee was suspended when she said "bless you" to a fellow student who sneezed.  Notice she didn't say GOD bless you - just bless you.  It was deemed "Godly speak" and was one of several terms banned by her teacher.


A group of atheists filed a lawsuit to have the 9/11 steel cross banned from display in the National 9/11 Museum.  They complained that the cross caused them "physical and emotional" pain.  They lost the suit but only because the judge in the case deemed the cross historical rather than religious.  I agree with whoever it was who said that if the cross has that much power over them, then maybe they're not really atheists.


2.  Political Correctness.  It borders on the ridiculous how many terms we are no longer supposed to use because someone is offended.  Seriously?  I don't know about anyone else but I can't even keep track of all the things I'm not supposed to say anymore.  I admit that there ARE some things that are absolutely derogatory because of the INTENT of the word but this isn't true in every single case.


I am a die-hard, dyed in the wool, never say die, deep in my soul Washington Redskins fan.  I am 100% in favor of keeping the name.  The name was in honor of a Native American and the logo was also created by a Native American.  It began as a term of honor and respect but has evolved into something that someone who probably didn't know the facts decided was offensive.  I recently watched an interview on ESPN in which former Redskins tight end, Chris Cooley, was interviewed about the team name.  One question he was asked was "if one single person is offended by a term shouldn't that be enough to ban the use?"  I loved Chris's answer.  He said "if that were the case, we'd have anarchy because everyone is offended by something".  He's absolutely right.  OMG, if I were offended every time one of my friends called me "munchkin" or when my son refers to me as "shortstop" because I'm short, I'd spend my life being offended!


Apparently, I offend a certain group of people when I call them 'black' rather than "African American".  You see, this is where it gets tricky because that term (African American) offends ME.  It's as if being just American isn't good enough - like there's a shame attached to it.  I totally get that it's good to honor your heritage and that you should be proud of it.  But, c'mon, how many of those "African" Americans have actually traced their roots to Africa?  My guess would be not very many.


3.  ALS Ice Bucket Challenge.  In the beginning, I think this started out to be something wonderful.  I've never heard of a fund raising event for ALS before.  There are all kinds of things that take place to raise funds for most forms of cancer.  Heart disease, arthritis and diabetes have their events as well.  There are even more that I've not heard about..  ALS was a new one for me and I was glad to have a bucket of ice water poured over my head to help raise money for this horrible disease.


Recently, some people have begun to fight against the ALS Ice Bucket Challenge.  Personally, I don't see the big deal.  Yes, a lot of people are having fun with it.  So?  Does that make the cause any less worthy?  It seems to me that the more fun something is, the more people are willing to participate. Yes, some people don't have a clue what ALS is or why they're supposed to be dumping ice water on their heads.  So?  Does it matter how little they actually know about what they're doing (in this case) as long as they're promoting the cause?  It seems to me that any of this "free advertisement" is a good thing and there's really no reason any other illness or disease out there can't do something similar.


So many things need and deserve fund raising efforts.  My family is directly affected on at least two levels by Fragile X - Fragile X Syndrome and FXTAS.  I bet only a handful of you have ever heard of that if that many.  My grandmother and mother--in-law were afflicted with Alzheimer's.  My brother suffered with Parkinsons.  My granddaughter has numerous mental and physical handicaps including cerebral palsy and a form of autism.


I shaved my head for cancer, dumped ice water on that same head for ALS and will be walking in about 3 weeks for Alzheimer's.  What can I do to help raise money for those other maladies I mentioned?  I want a cure for ALL of them.  And I want it NOW.


4.  Racism.  Racism is everywhere.  It's true what they say - no one is born a racist.  I know this from firsthand experience.  When I was a girl in the 1950's, I grew up knowing that people - all people, I thought - were racist against "colored folks".  I heard grownups talking about it all the time.  I honestly don't remember what I actually thought about all the talk.  I don't think I paid much attention to it, to be honest.  It was just the way grown ups talked.


Then my mother's youngest sister married a full-blooded Cherokee Indian.  In my mind, he wasn't "colored" so there was no reason for there to be an issue.  Boy was I wrong!  The first time I heard of an Indian referred to as "non-white" and not as good as the white man, I was flabbergasted! I had no idea there was Indian prejudice - or Jew prejudice or Mexican prejudice or Italian prejudice or Irish prejudice or any other prejudice.  I wasn't exposed to those prejudices so I didn't know they existed.


When Morgan Freeman was asked how we can stop racism, he simply said "stop talking about it."  He's right.  Quit talking about it and it will die a natural death.  The mindset that there's something inferior about a certain race or ethnic group won't be taught to our children and they won't grow up with it.  One generation can wipe out racism forever.  But they won't.  People can be so stupid sometimes.


5. Ferguson Missouri.  There are bad guys and there are good guys.  Some good guys become cops and some bad guys become crooks.  Some of those good guys who became cops turn bad and some of those bad guys who became crooks turn good.  The only conflicts that should come from this is when the cops fight the bad guys.  The issue should NOT be that a white cop killed a black crook.  The black and white of it should never even come into play.  The cop killed a crook.  That should be the end of it.  But it's not.  What if a black cop killed a white crook?  Would that be better?  If so, why?  The sad part is that someone had to be killed.


I know there's an issue that Michael Brown was unarmed.  I take exception with that.  You see, he may not have had a gun but he used his body as a weapon and was therefore, in my opinion, armed.  I find it absolutely appalling that it's perfectly okay for Darren Wilson to put his life on the line to stop criminals but it becomes a source for rioting and looting when he defends his life against those criminals.  How is that just?  Are we to tell our officers that they can only defend themselves against criminals who are of the same race as they?


What's going to happen when good men and women stop becoming officers because they can't protect themselves?  Does anyone recall the history of the American wild west and the lawlessness that was prevalent?


6. Obama.  Oh my gosh, where to begin?  I'm going to totally ignore the joke that is Obamacare and look at a few other things.


First, we have a president who is apparently tired of being the president.  He prefers to spend his time on the golf course or taking vacations then to doing something, well, presidential.  Why should he care?  He only has a couple more years to partake of his freeloading and government funded holidays and vacations.  What are we going to do - fire him?  And then deal with BIDEN for the next two years?  I don't know which is worse.


He sends a contingent from the white house to attend the funeral of a criminal in Ferguson Missouri while ignoring that of a Major General who was killed in combat zone.


He chooses to give a limited amount of lip service to an American who was brutally beheaded by ISIS in favor of his next putt.


He ignores the dangers coming into our country through our unsecured southern border.  Instead, he refers to illegal aliens as "undocumented citizens" and proposes that we grant them amnesty as a first step toward citizenship.  Since when did just coming into our country make one a "citizen" - documented or not?


This man has no character and no moral ethic.  He was born to a white woman and raised by his white grandparents.  Most people I know of in that situation are pretty fair minded but not this man.  He even talks of his prejudice against white folks in his book Dreams of My Father.  Does he still foster that racism?  I don't know but it sure seems that he does.  It seems to me that he's pretty quick to jump into issues that some deem racist - remember the black Harvard professor who had a run in with a white cop?  Remember talking about it over a beer at the white house?


He's a man who makes promises he doesn't keep (can we say GITMO?) and travels the world apologizing for America- and bowing.  The President of the United States bows to NO ONE.  What must the world think of us?


He doesn't care about anyone but himself and his aspirations.  He is untrustworthy and flip-flops on issues as they relate to what he wants.  He was opposed to gay marriage when he ran for office in 2008.  By the time the 2012 election was upon us and he needed votes, he changed his stance and supported gay marriage.


He's egotistical and full of self-importance.  He has a god-like opinion of himself and his abilities, apparently believing it's perfectly acceptable for him to circumvent Congress and act unilaterally to enforce whatever laws and regulations he sees fit.  (Didn't Texas Gov Rick Perry just get indicted for doing the same thing?)


So, to answer my question, no, I don't think the world needs changing but I can't say that about the people living in it.  A little change might make a huge improvement.


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When a Step Backwards is Progress

"We all carry, inside of us, people who came before us."

~Liam Callanan~

A few years ago, I was cleaning out a junk drawer and came across a note I had written when I was about 18 or 19.  As I read the short note, I clearly recalled the day I wrote it.  I was at my grandparent's home and was asking my grandmother who her parents were and who my grandfather's parents were.  As she answered, I would go up another generation: "who were their parents?" That very short conversation ended when after only a couple of generations, she started saying "I don't know".  Everything she told me, I wrote down and closed the note.  I was surprised to find it all those years later.  By the time I found the note, I was deep into tracing my ancestral roots.


So why mention this now?  Because someone I love very much asked why it matters who our ancestors were and what's the big deal with genealogy.  I certainly can't speak for every genealogist in the world though I do think most of us have some common desires that urge us on.  For me, it started with a curiosity and ballooned from there.


I remember the very first time I ever did any actual physical research.  I wanted to find obituaries for my maternal great-grandparents - I don't even remember why I wanted to find them.  My mother, oldest son and I all went to the public library and looked through old newspapers.  I don't remember which of us found the first piece of documentation that those people existed but between the three of us, we found all four obits.  I also don't remember why, but we moved on to census records and found the record for one of my great-great-grandfathers.  I was stoked and the seed was planted.  I had no clue what my goal was or if I even had a goal.  Years later someone asked how I would know when I was finished.  I replied that I'd be finished when I got back to Adam and Eve.  Until then, there's always another branch up to research.


Through the years, I'd do a little research here and there but really didn't know what I was doing.  In the beginning, all I cared about was names and dates.  I'm more into learning about the individual people and their stories now.


Through trial and error (and a lot of reading on genealogy websites and message boards) I started to figure things out.  The very first post I did on one of those message boards hit paydirt.  A fifth cousin ("not removed or anything!" she exclaimed) replied to my post and opened several generations for me.  Her father had lived with someone I actually knew from my childhood.  This cousin told me where my great-grandmother and great-great-grandmother were buried and even took me to their graves.  I learned that day to love cemeteries and the information they held - both on tombstones and in the records held in the offices.


After I retired, my hobby slowly became an obsession.  The more I learned, the more I wanted to learn.  I got more excited over a birth, marriage or death certificate than most people get over diamonds and Ferraris.  I learned to read every column on a census record to discover the various occupations my ancestors held (does anyone have a clue what a Daguerreotype Artist is????).  I even learned from one census record that my maternal grandfather's grandparents lived across the street from each other and have decided in my mind that that's how his parents met.  I can't be sure, of course, but it makes sense to me.


I began dissecting every bit of information on death certificates.  Through them, I've learned that many of my ancestors suffered from some of the same health concerns.  Dropsy, apoplexy, uremia and malaria were common causes of death in the earlier years; cancer and heart disease in the later years. 


Through the generosity of other family genealogists, I have collected photos of some of my ancestors and have been surprised on more than one occasion with the family resemblances between individual family members who lived decades apart.  Though there are many apples and many trees, I've learned that the apples don't fall too far from the trees.


I've learned much about history (and now know why geography is important).  I learned about the roles of men and women in the early days of our country.  I learned that when a man died and left a wife and children under the age of 21 that those children were considered infants and were often appointed a male guardian by the courts - even though their mother was still alive.


I learned about slavery and was surprised to learn that only the very rich kept slaves.  I grew up believing everyone had slaves so this revelation was especially eye-opening for me.  Though I never actually researched which of (or even if) my ancestors kept slaves, I know that some did because they were plantation owners.  I also learned that some did not but hired free negroes to work their fields.


I learned about the roles my ancestors played in the various wars during the early days of our country.  During the Revolutionary War one was tried for treason because he sided with the British and went so far as to blow up his neighbor's boats in the harbor.  In the Civil War my ancestors fought on the side of the Confederacy.  Neither of these facts embarrasses me nor saddens me.  Times were what they were and everyone during those times had their reasons for choosing their side of an issue.


So, back to why this is important.  Certainly it doesn't rank up there with any of the hot issues of the day like our economy, gas prices, the wars in the Middle East, border security and other issues of that magnitude.  But, in my opinion, it's important individually.  Even in the Bible, God gave us an accounting of Adam and Eve's descendants (anyone remember all the "begots"?) so it must have some importance for us.  I think it's up to each individual to decide how important it is to him or her.

You Don't Understand

Everyone hears only what he understands.
~Johann Wolfgang von Goethe~

Recently, we lost a young police officer in the line of duty.  From all accounts, he was a good officer, well liked by his co-workers, a wonderful husband and father and a man who loved God.  According to his obituary, he was the second son his parents lost.  Being a mother myself, I always identify with the mother and feel a deep sympathy for her.  I thank the Lord that I've never been in her position and pray to Him that I never will be.


I also think about the young widow left to raise her now fatherless children alone.  My first thought is always about the children who will have to grow up without their dad and my next is about the wife.  There, but for the grace of God, go I and my sons.


After we'd been married just a few months, my husband told me he wanted to be a cop.  Having no clue what was about to happen to our lives, I supported him 100%.  The process of becoming a police officer took a few months because of all the testing and background checks that were involved.  The day finally came when he enrolled in the Police Academy.


My thoughts then were that this was pretty cool.  I was a cop's wife - a position I considered to be quite the status symbol.  I was proud of my new "position" and that pride has never left me.


During the first couple of years he was an officer, I watched my husband go through a metamorphosis of a sort.  I think he, too, felt he had reached a certain status.   Once he graduated the academy and began patrolling the streets of our city, he developed an attitude that I'm sure most new officers developed - that of "I'm a cop. I'm all-powerful and all knowing".  I likened this part of the metamorphism to that of thinking he was god-like (little "g" - a god - not THE God).


After awhile, he began to change.  He realized that he was arresting the same people over and over.  As fast as he'd put them in jail, the courts would let them out.  He got depressed and was despondent that he wasn't making a difference.  When I would express concern, he would tell me "you don't understand. Nobody cares".  He didn't understand either.  I cared.


Once when his shift was over and he was hours late coming home, I called the precinct and asked about him.  This was before cell phones so I had little choice in how to find him.  He was embarrassed that his wife was checking up on him and told me "you don't understand. If anything happens to me they'll notify you".  He didn't understand either.  I didn't know if he was hurt - or worse - and they hadn't gotten around to 'notifying' me yet.


Many nights, he would come home with blood on his clothes - blood he got either from breaking apart two guys trying to kill each other or maybe from someone who'd been injured.  However he got the blood on him, he would always say "you don't understand. It's not my blood".  He didn't understand either.  It didn't matter whose blood it was, the blood was a stark reminder of how dangerous his job was.


So on and on it went.  I didn't understand what it was like to be a cop and he didn't understand what it was like to be a cop's wife.  Sometimes I wonder how we survived it - we almost didn't, in fact.  I totally get why the divorce rate is so high among cops.


Nine years ago - after 30 years on the job - my husband finally retired.  He has reverted back to the man he was when we first got married and our lives now have a semblance of normalcy.  I'm still proud that I was a cop's wife for 30 years.  I wouldn't trade that life for the world but I can't say I'd want to relive it.


Being a cop is a dangerous, dirty and thankless job.  As we prepare to say goodbye to the young officer we just lost, that fact becomes more and more ingrained in me.  I hope I never lose that feeling.  God bless our law enforcement officers.

Remembering

“To live in hearts we leave behind is not to die.”

~Thomas Campbell~

We all have to accept the fact that some day we are going to die.  None of us are immortal.  I know the vast majority of us don't want to die but we don't always get what we want.


I've recently returned from a week in Washington DC where I spent time reflecting on the lives - and deaths - of those law enforcement officers who gave their lives in the performance of their duty.  Mother's Day takes place while I'm there so, of course, I spend time thinking of my mother and grandmother.  At the end of National Police Week, I reflect on the life of my beloved grandfather who went to live in Heaven on May 18, 1980.  This year, while in DC, I also visited my brother who is buried in Arlington National Cemetery.  He moved to Heaven in February 2013.


So many thoughts of people I've known and loved; thoughts of people I never met but know of  fill my mind.  I think of them and what I remember about them or have heard about them.  I find myself feeling close to people I never knew.


I never really understood - or took comfort in - the sentiment that "as long as someone is remembered, they will never die".  It never made sense to me.  Dead is dead and a memory is not the same thing as having someone with you.  It was when I learned about the life of my third great-grandfather that my thoughts on that began to change.


It occurred to me that if I had never started tracing my ancestral roots, no one would know about these people who came before us.  They weren't famous  historical figures.  I've never found a connection to anyone you can read about in a history book (talking America, here) so why WOULD anyone know who they are?  Not knowing about them is the same thing as them never having existed.  Think about that - how many people in the short history of our young country have lived and died without any acknowledgement of their existence?


So, what makes remembering so important?  Honestly, I have no clue.  I do know, though, that those who I have known and loved have left me with memories that I will cherish until the day I become just a memory for someone.  That naturally leads me to wonder how I will be remembered and what memories my family will come to cherish after I'm gone - at least I HOPE they will have some cherished memories.  I can hear my sons now telling the story of how I would tell each of them when the other wasn't around that he was my favorite but he couldn't tell his brother because it would hurt his feelings.  I'm sure that will bring a chuckle or two.


If I could choose how I'd like to be remembered, it would be first that I loved my family more than anything in the world.  I'd want them to know that my favorite role in life was that of wife and mother.  After that, I would hope to be remembered as a fair person who had an unshakable faith in God, who respected all, who gave all a second chance, who always chose to believe the best and who always ALWAYS forgave.


If I could leave a legacy for my children it would be that they would learn from the examples that I hoped I set - to be fair, honest, forgiving, to have faith in God and to love.


How would YOU like to be remembered?

I Hate Lying Liars

"I'm not upset that you lied to me, I'm upset that from now on I can't believe you.”

~Friedrich Nietzsche~

I don't understand how some people can live with themselves.  Do they have so little self-esteem that they have to lie about their participation in the lives of others because they have no life of their own?  To take credit for work others do because they do no work themselves?  To make up events in their own lives to feel important because they have such a low opinion of themselves?  To call someone a friend who isn't really a friend because they are friendless?


What kind of person makes up stories about having been part of the military during a war when, in fact, they were not?  Are they so needy to "belong" that they have to spit in the collective faces of those who HAVE served?  There is no shame in not having served and there is absolutely no good reason for lying about it.


What is the point of telling others that all the women in the group you were with once or twice a couple of years apart fought over you?  Do you have such a low opinion of yourself that you have to tell despicable lies about others to make yourself feel like a big man?  Is your ego worth the reputations of others?

All of the above, I can attribute to one person.  I used to tolerate this man but no longer.  I have always said that rudeness and disrespect are the top two things on my list of things I can't stand.  This person may have been polite in spreading his lies but there is no respect in such an action.

I decide what kind of people I want around me and none of those people have any of the charactistics of this deceitful liar.  I choose people who are honest, upright, uplifting and optimistic to be in my close circle of friends.  I don't care to have negativity in any sense invade my life.


I love my REAL friends.