If You Say So....Luke 5:4-7 (NASB)

 There are times when I'm brought back in my imagination to that place in the desert, the military base which I've constructed from actual photos. I can only imagine what it actually looked like to him. The photos are very few and limited in what they show. Day by day for about 6 months I imagined him waking and going to sleep. I tried to think about what his day looked like, although I had no idea. I read several books on military chaplains on deployment. I read about their duties, their locations, the challenges they faced and the things they did. I tried to picture him in many of these activities. Mostly, I saw him listening to service members share their struggles and he in turn giving counsel, guidance, comfort, and praying with them. That was not hard to imagine. It baffles me to this day, totally mystifies me, as to why I cared so much. Why was I so curious? Why do those memories drift across my consciousness now that I know there was another woman who was privy to all t...

       He asked me, again , to meet him in his room because he needed "to talk." Bipolar, mixed phase sliding toward the more depressive side, with notable paranoia. The other nurses and I had animated conversations about his constant, attention-seeking paranoid delusions as being just that - attention seeking and thus, behavioral in nature. I on the other hand, having taken care of him for several days throughout the week, noted the genuine fear in the paranoid delusions. "When I was in the ER, they gave me IV fluids and I think they poisoned me....When I was sleeping at the hospital before I came to this one, I think I got raped. My butt hurts....I got raped, I know it. I think I have HIV. I want an HIV test.....I have a headache, I think I have a brain tumor. I want a CT scan. Call the doctor NOW-I need an Xray of my head!"  And on and on the delusions went. I patiently attempted to address each one and, if need be, contact the doctor to see if further testin...

          The shift had started out fairly routine on the inpatient psychiatric unit I worked on. After getting my patient assignment I went to speak to each of my patients. One of my patients had very serious substance abuse problems and had told me about being a dancer and an artist* overseas in her earlier years. So, of course, I googled her name and yes, she had, in fact, been a very beautiful model at one time. The years of alcohol abuse, eating disorders, drug abuse, and multiple medical issues had aged her significantly. She had been physically beautiful with strawberry blonde hair, chiseled cheekbones, and clear aquamarine eyes. What remained was shades of her former beauty, wrinkles around those beautiful, now-faded blue eyes and blotchy skin. The most attractive thing about her was a sharp, intelligent and slightly sarcastic wit.  I liked her. We talked extensively about her life and I found her charming and brilliant, if not sad and aging i...

Tim and I had a wedding celebration in late November of 1992 after we married in Las Vegas several months earlier. It appeared to be a normal wedding, complete with a wedding program. On that program the verse was written: "A cord of three strands is not easily broken." We liked that verse because we added Jesus to the other two strands that made up me and Tim. With Jesus intertwining our marriage, we would be a strong unit, so the sentiment and hope went. But "not easily broken"  is not "not broken."        It was November 8, 2020 and I was walking into Wal-Mart early Sunday morning. I felt a sharp sensation as my finger touched my wedding band. What was that? I looked down and there was a crack in the outer band of my wedding ring. I tried to twist it off my finger but found it too sharp for the fingers trying to remove it. Soap in the Wal-Mart bathroom did nothing to help slide it off either. I finished my shopping and went home - or that is, to the hom...

Smiley me in the sunshine next to the San Gabriel River this morning in Azusa Canyon.      Blogging has gone out of style in 2025. It's been over a decade since I've written in this blog, primarily because my creative writing juices have dried up, so to speak. There are many reasons for this; busyness, stress, time suckers like social media and massive life changes.      I don't aim to update this blog, per se, but to pick up at this spot, so many years later since the last post. I am aiming to post more regularly, knowing it will probably not be read by anyone IRL - a new acronym since I stopped blogging. The fact that it could be read by someone is enough to motivate me to put some effort into make it interesting and something that I would like to read in the years to come. I'd like it to be an accurate reflection of where I'm at now in whichever way I choose. It's so different from social media where people know others will see what they post. The tempta...

  Those who sow in tears will reap with songs of joy. He who goes out weeping, carrying seeds to sow, will return with songs of joy, carrying sheaves with him. -Psalm 126:5-6   tiny mustard seed          I have a picture of tiny mustard seeds in my hand. I'm clutching to them because that's all I have. The year 2015 that lay before me seems entirely daunting; finishing nursing school, getting a job, seeing Camille graduate from high school, sending her off to college - or having her stay home, deciding where Leanne will attend high school, Elena possibly leaving for the entire summer, Dad's cancer recovery, Julia's learning challenges - so many significant endings, beginnings, comings and goings.....I'm weary already.      It's such a contrast to last year where I pictured myself standing in great faith and praying bold prayers. I have done that this last year. But as 2014 wound down, I felt ...

I want to make an arrangement from my garden like this.    Today is one of the last days of 2013 and I am reflective. So indulge me a bit, won't you?  I love ranunculus flowers! I planted 18 of these.      Last night I attended Elena's church and as I was standing and worshipping, moved by the music and the Spirit, I saw a picture of me standing and raising my arms like I was at that moment, but instead of singing, I was praying. I had this clear picture that this next year was to be a year of fervent intercession with a very proactive stance - literally standing and asking God for mighty and bold things, powerful and obvious displays of his nearness, and definitive answers to prayers for deliverance for the people he would bring my way...      ...As I was kneeling forward in the balmy, breezy intoxicating sunlight this morning and digging dirt out of holes to plant my bulbs, I was pondering how prayer is so much like...