Sounds of Hope

There isn't much about a carnival that I like. I know that sounds strange. I've never been able to figure that out myself. I just don't like carnivals. I've never been one for rides either. I get dizzy just watching the merry-go-round go round and round. Seriously, I just don't even handle the mildest of rides. When I was a kid I used to go to Steeplechase Park at Coney Island. I liked to go even though there were few rides I could handle. I remember one time I went with my cousins Bobby and Joe from Pennsylvania. I was old enough to know you didn't have a crush on your cousin and old enough to want to please a boy. They talked me in to going on the roller coaster. I survived. It was very difficult. Then there were those tubes that you walked through. Never having been coordinated, I felt like a fool. My mother said she always enjoyed the swing. I don't think I ever had the courage to go on it. I thought that was pretty whimpy that my mother liked a ride

Today you will find me as the blogger on Kingdom Bloggers . Our theme this week on KB is doubt. It has sort of amused me that this would be the theme since I just wrote Confessions of a Former Optimist. On KB I wrote about Thomas and his doubts. I wrote about the disciples hiding behind locked doors because of fear. You really should check it out - you can do so here: I'M FROM MISSOURI - SHOW ME Sometimes you just need to be shown. Sometimes you just want to know what is real and what isn't? I ran out of steam or space, not sure which, before I finished my thoughts on doubt. I wanted to talk about the opposite of doubt. Many would say it is faith. I have a hard time with the concept of faith. I just don't really understand it. At times my view of faith has been distorted through the lens of my own works. If I confess it enough, I'll have it. Now, I think there is something about being careful what you say - I also think you can go way overboard with that c

Some people will find it very hard to believe that once upon a time, I was an optimist. People hear my laments over and over again. I lament where I live. I lament the loss of a career and/or the lack of one now. I miss Nashville. I miss my family. I lament over broken relationships. I lament the past, the present and sometimes the future. But truly, once upon a time, I was an optimist. I used to run a very large Senior Center in Connecticut. When I finished my degree at the University of Missouri in Recreation and Park Administration it seemed an odd major for an uncoordinated girl from Brooklyn NY with three small children and pregnant with the fourth. However, you have to know my emphasis within Parks and Rec for it to make sense. My emphasis was Therapeutic Recreation with a specialization in Aging Studies. I had the required coursework for a certificate in Aging Studies. After four years of working at a neighborhood mental health facility in Missouri, we moved to Connecticut. Fi

F or such a time as this… If you spend any time in Christian circles, you’ll hear this phrase mentioned. It comes from the story of Esther in the Hebrew Scriptures . I’ve taught the book of Esther many times. I’ve even done more than casual research on the book. It is a fascinating and empowering story. I read in something I received today the phrase “for such a times as this.” It stopped my day. It seemed to hit my soul. I think sometimes we become conditioned to these common phrases that they no longer have any power in our lives. They become mere clichés. There are times in charismatic circles when someone has a “word” for you. These words are usually sprinkled with scripture that can be nothing more to us than spiritual clichés. Now don’t get me wrong, I am not saying that these words may not be words that empower and enlighten through the work of the Holy Spirit. What I am saying is that we don’t hear them anymore because our ears no longer hear. I have a sense today that I

When I started this “mini-series” leading up to Bethany’s birth, I had no idea I would cover such emotionally charged ground. Since I do plan to write a book, it is probably wise that I stop telling the story at some point. Before I stop let me share a few highlights. Bethany came home just in time to join me at a shower that the church had for me. I remember the woman who hosted it, and where she lived. I can’t remember her name. I remember Jane took us in her white Cadillac. I wanted to breastfeed Bethany. I tried to express milk to bring to the hospital. I had little luck. One day I went in and they told me they had just given her some of my milk. I didn’t have any milk there. Whose milk it was, I have no idea. Nevertheless, it didn’t harm her.  After weeks of struggling with nursing, in the middle of the night I uttered a simple prayer. I asked God, if you want me to nurse this child you’ll going to have to help me. Literally, from that moment on, she and I figured out breastfeed

Alvin did come to the hospital on Sunday. Bethany was still in ICU. I was still in the private room. I don’t think I had seen him since the beating. I felt conflicted because of the children. They should have a father. But he was no father to them. He abused them. I was not sure how to navigate the spiritual landscape of divorce. I still believed in the old fashioned values concerning marriage. Some people will still tell you that God always wants to restore a marriage. I think that is true. However, both people in that marriage have to come to the foot of the cross and be willing to be changed, molded and transformed into whole people. Alvin simply didn’t. Alcohol and other “demons” controlled his life. I had begged God to change me. I had begged God to make me into a good wife. Yet my instincts as a mother also told me it was past time to protect these children. There was a new child lying in the ICU fighting for her life. Alvin walked with a strut. He strutted in with no shame.

Once in the delivery room Dr. Halverson took his place. I was already fully dilated the full ten centimeters. I was ready to push. I hadn’t seen Jane since the Emergency Room. I was alone, all alone. I assumed she was somewhere. I was pretty sure she was praying. It was a very good thing that she was. While I was ready to welcome this new member to my family, I was worried about our future. I knew God. I’d known Him since I was a child. I had received Jesus as my savior many times. I was always riddled with guilt so I almost always responded to an altar call. One can’t be too careful about one’s salvation if you are full of guilt. I really felt my life was over. Alvin and I had remarried. I had such hope. I thought sure we were going to be that couple with the great testimony. Eventually, I would be the preacher’s wife. I would be respected. But here I was, ready to bring another child into the world. We had no money. I didn’t even have a telephone in the trailer I lived in. I had a

This time the doctor at the Medical Center wasn’t in Clinic 7. He was in the Family Practice Clinic. A resident preparing to care for the family, he was kind, very kind. Ultimately he would save my daughter’s life by his quick action in the delivery room. They had a social worker see me; her name was Williams. She knew her job and was always kind. Another professional, a nurse practitioner with a PhD, Dr. Mausch would see me as well. They were a great team. This time I had support. Dr. Mausch, Peg Williams and Dr. Halverson – I thanked God for them. Two other angels stepped in to help me, Jane and Duane Shingleton. He was the President of the Full Gospel Businessmen's Fellowship International (FGBMFI) Chapter in Columbia Missouri. She was the President of the Women's Aglow Chapter. They were the quintessential Charismatic couple. They owned a large hog farm. Alvin had worked for them for a short while. They befriended me and loved me. They prayed for me and bought me food. The

I don’t know why I stayed. I supposed it was because I had nowhere to go. There were no domestic violence shelters in 1974. I still believed in miracles. I wanted one. I prayed desperately for one. Ultimately, I would understand that a miracle of deliverance did come. It just didn’t come like I expected it to. We had never gone back to Columbia First Assembly after Alvin returned from the Army. We had become quite worldly. My mother was going to Christian Chapel so we went there too. Lacking the strong leadership of Brother Parker and perhaps never really having a relationship with God, just rules, Alvin never connected there. I stayed at Christian Chapel during our first divorce. Now it was viewed as my church and First Assembly still seemed out of the question. We ended up at the new Highland Park Assembly on West Worley near Nowell’s Grocery Store. They met in the garage of the Pastor’s home, Brother Cooper. All I clearly remember about Brother Cooper is that he always wore a bow-

I was living in a four-plex on Weymeyer Drive northeast of Columbia. Ironically, his cousin, on his father’s side, owned it. A cousin he barely knew. Now married again, he moved in with me. Nathan had started kindergarten. As a harbinger of things to come, Nathan had spent his first day of kindergarten with the principal. This is the actually apartment, second floor. Many were the exploits of Nathan. He had been thrown out of Sunday School because he would climb in the windows and bark like a dog. Nathan was just like his mother. He learned even more quickly than I, that attention comes by acting out. He also had tremendous energy and creativity. He had the nerve to do the things he thought about. Considering all the trips to the ER, it is a wonder he lived. I had gotten a job, a real job. I worked for what is now Shelter Insurance, then call MFA Insurance. I would descend to the bowels of the building on West Broadway to file thousand of little papers in hundreds of five drawer fil

Being a veteran and older, Alvin was now credit worthy. Alvin was ready to get a business loan and be an entrepreneur. He started with a used tractor, mower, rake and baler. Soon he moved up to a brand new blue Ford tractor. It didn’t have a cab but the summer heat of Missouri was not a problem for him. I drove the red and white Rambler station wagon. He had a blue Chevy pick-up. With the boys in the car, I would travel the gravel roads to find the field where he was mowing. I would have a jug of tea, some sandwiches or left over fried chicken. Often I would get lost, as directions were always vague. Attempting to turn around, I'd end up in a ditch. Somehow I always got out. Then he found the baler. It was meant for the flat fields of Kansas, not the hills of Central Missouri. It was a novelty. We drove to St. Louis together. He returned driving this monster through St. Louis rush hour traffic with me dutifully following behind. We picked up a few employees. I think all of them

When I started this series with the entry A Draft , I had no idea where it would go. Like a snowball that cannot be stopped as it rolls down the hill gathering more snow, this story keeps going and growing. Many of the details are still laying in the snow pile. You are hearing just the highlights, or lowlights. Everything is true. Nathan would run the trailer court. Often he'd sneak out of bed before I got up. He'd be outside playing by the time I did. It was a safe place. His best friend was Butch Hamilton. I could peek out the windows and see Nathan and Butch digging for frogs and worms. Too excited from play, trip inside to use the bathroom were optional. Nathan picked up a southern accent from his friend. Life seemed good. I had good neighbors. Army communities are like that; people cling to each other. Betty Boomer would take me to the store. Later, another Army wife decided I had to learn to drive. She gave me her car keys and said drive. That was all I needed. At 19,

I went once to Fort Leonard Wood and stayed in the guesthouse for the weekend. He wasn’t supposed to have visitors during Basic but I took Greyhound anyway. I brought Nathan and remember in the quietness of that room he learned to point to his nose, eyes, ears, mouth and chin on command. I can still see his sweet little face as he sat on my lap and we played.  I went to his graduation from Basic. He came home for a short leave. My stomach was growing as another child was preparing to come into our family. He moved on to AIT, Advanced Infantry Training, at Fort Polk Louisiana. The welcome sign at Fort Polk declared it was the training ground for Viet Nam. I bought a Greyhound bus ticket to go to Louisiana for a weekend visit. Sunday we rode an old school bus to church in Leesville. The young pastor of the church gave us use of his car for the day. We drove around the swampy environs of Leesville enjoying our day of freedom. We returned the car to him after the Sunday night service. Th