Wherever You Are

On July 13, 2015, this is the post I put on my facebook page;

  39 years ago, on this date, God blessed me. God allowed a turn of events to happen to me in which my attitude would guide my thinking. This gave me the outcome that guides my ability to deal with things, most of the time. It gave me a way to view people, knowing that they could be dealing with things of their own, most of the time. Although I fail occasionally, more often than I like, I can honestly say I have been blessed.
July 13, 1976 A car driven by 16 year old girl was hit as she pulled out on Hwy 33 by the light. She was taken to a hospital where she remained unconscious for 4 weeks. Diagnosed with a TBI. She was released after 51 days but returned for physical therapy weekly for another year. She is now living as a witness for the God who created us claiming the life of Jesus Christ as our Savior. Yes, she is writing this post, and loves each one of you who have taken the time to listen. (and those who kept scrolling too) GBYD

I received so many good comments from that post. I learned things that I didn't remember ever knowing before. 

Like, my glasses found in the rootbeer float that I had just purchased, were sitting on the table as a constant reminder to my sisters while I remained unconscious in the hospital.

                                         Wow, an object of disdain or one of hope.

Also, the woman who encouraged, three times, for my sister to sit down at the accident site, actually prayed for me, for her, and my family.

  This woman, another life touched, gave the best thing she could at that moment. The Holy Spirit lead her to give, I don't know who it was nor who might have been around to join in.

One of my cousins was at Church camp when her father, a Pastor, and mother came to tell her.
Another one of my cousins had an accident a year after mine, but with a fatal result.

                                     At times, as her sister recalls, there are lessons everyday even though we don't understand in this lifetime.

Many things happened that I never knew, many people prayed who I had never met, many tears with many lives changed.... 


BUT many are the blessings as a result. God is always in control and always available.

******************

A few months ago, at my mother's memorial service, my father recalled a trip that they had taken to Israel. It was a very moving time for them to walk where our Lord and Savior, Jesus walked here on earth. They saw the trees and garden where He prayed. 
This was followed by the virtuoso singing of Jerusalem in an operatic style by my talented brother-in-law. 


The images that my father described were a beautiful 

visionary of an entree that mom must have taken to her 

heavenly home.

What this said to me, was to enjoy where you are, wherever you are, knowing that God is with you. Someone may use that moment as a reminder of a wonderful memory and someone else may see it as an entree into your heavenly home and someone will be lead by the Holy Spirit to pray.

Romans 8:28New Century Version (NCV)

28 We know that in everything God works for the good of those who love him.[a]They are the people he called, because that was his plan.

Why Not

Why Not?

Once I was told that I indeed supported the goals of others without doubting their ability. I do find this statement to be accurate. Because, why not?

If someone were to say that they would like to walk a tightrope strung up between two of the tallest buildings, who am I to say they can’t.

Well, I want to write in a blog. I have many thoughts swirling around in my head, and I think that they are supposed to be written. Perhaps to help me, but more likely, my words are to help someone going through the same thing with the same thoughts as I.

 Let me explain:

 I feel like I have experienced so many things in my life that will be of value to someone. Deaths of those too young; joys of new beginnings; fears, love, absences, growth.

After having a TBI (traumatic brain injury) at 16, I was limited as to what I could say clearly. I stuttered and couldn’t find the words I wanted to use. I would often say that I could write it down for someone if I felt like they didn’t ‘get me’.

 There it was; the reason that I write all started with my inability to get my thoughts across to someone verbably.

In 1990, fourteen years after the accident, I started taking a drug to help a chemical imbalance in my brain, a direct effect of the TBI mixed with the hormones after the birth of my two children. I feel like this got me back on track, or made me believe I was anyway.

Write!

So now I was even more aware of the need to write, although the actual writing didn’t take place for real until 2001. It was after my grandmother died.  It was then, as a tribute to her, that I began to record my life growing up in my first booklet “A lifetime in July”.  I jotted down the things that had happened to me, co-incidentally in July.

I would visit my grandparent’s house for a week or two, each summer. It was July 1974 that our high school band traveled to Europe and while we were gone, my granddad had a heart attack. He had several in fact, but he lived until we returned, to say goodbye, I think. Granddad died a short while later. It was in July two years later, that I had the debilitating automobile accident.

I gave the booklet to my family members, as a Christmas present. The next year, I gave each one my account of my accident. They were asked to make any corrections or additions that were strong in their minds.

A few years later, as I had my story all put together, I had some friends edit it. One of my friends did counseling for me pro-bono. She was the one that suggested I share in church.

Wait – Me?

I am a writer, not a speaker. I couldn’t. I stutter some, can’t find the right words lots, and I limp when I walk. I can’t get up in front…..

 Maybe not, but the Holy Spirit can do the talking, giving me the words, and God can open hearts to acceptance.

Ok, why not?

No argument held water, so not only did I ask to speak, they had me give the message in the Pastor’s absence.  It was well received.

They also handed out copies of my story printed by the church. Wow.

Next?

Shortly after that, my story was on Kindle. Printed, published, and sold. Then the most amazing thing touched me deeply.

 A woman in my church told me she sent one of those printed copies the church handed out to a relative whose 16 year old son had been in an accident, much like mine. They were happy to read it. She said it helped.

Aha ~ My Call.

The story was removed from publication and put on the church web page. Anyone who needs to read it, may – for free.

Writing? Like talking in the Pastor’s absence, I will let the Holy Spirit do the scribing by giving me the words, and much needed confidence. I will let God open the reader’s heart to acceptance.

So I asked ~ why not?

Yes, I would find a way to tell my story, share what God gave me. I would start a blog. I had the motivation of Jeff Goins, a writer, and encourager, who I have followed for years and I trust him. I will keep writing and I will tell my story along with other stories, to bring glory to God.

Because I have been saved for a purpose.

 (And I don’t want to walk a tightrope between buildings)

Overcoming Injustices

Overcoming injustices

This is the story of a girl who hated stereotypes and labeling. The girl grew up in a loving family with a nice home. There was a swimming pool and a decorative garden, making it seem like a Spanish villa. It was located on a corner making its existence even more regal.

The father, with a PHD, was a top executive and often had guests from other countries coming to America in order to complete deals and develop pharmaceutical drugs that would be used in the company product line. The mother, a gourmet cook, would have parties to entertain the visitors. She would make exquisite foods and they would have meals that included guests from England, Spain, South Africa, Sydney, Australia, India, Japan, etc. Sometimes, more countries would be represented and sometimes less.

The girl’s house was one of the more prestigious homes in the community. The girl had a gift as a hostess for the parties. She would easily converse with the guest from Australia, talking about his sailboat excursions at the same time carry on a conversation with the man from India enjoying the family descriptions in a ‘broken English’ dialect. She was quite comfortable with the tall man from South Africa and laughed with the Asian woman.    

The problem arose when, at school, the girl was mortified to think that anyone would think she was more affluent than others. She would often downplay the dinner party so as to cover-up any idea of being well off.  The girl made an effort to include everyone. If someone would refer to her affluence, she would laugh it off. She hated to be thought of in that way so she made an effort not to talk about the parties or her father’s position.

Another problem she would have was that of stereotyping any person or group. She would not stand by and let the ideas of a few become an issue. If someone were to say something derogatory toward any culture, even as a joke, her blood boiled and she would point out the opposite to be true.

The girl’s siblings did not appear to be as offended by the negative things said. Everything came to an abrupt halt when this girl was in an automobile accident. She could no longer find the words to stick up for the accused cultures. She stuttered now, but knew how she felt; no-one listened to her influence any more.  The girl only observed things and couldn’t do anything about it.

The parties became fewer as her ability to communicate became less. Her parents took a big hit financially due to the girl’s hospital and doctor bills.

The girl still felt a loyalty toward any oppressed group or peoples. Life went on.

When it came time for the girl to graduate high school she did not have the bond that she once did with friends. Two of the foreign visitors from her dad’s work accompanied her to a few graduation parties/open houses for the people that had once been close.

A tall, thin, black man, Iggie Ignacia, from South Africa, and a shorter, white man, Gordon Baker, from Sydney, Australia laughed with her as they entered homes. These adult men were two of the people who would forever be remembered in helping the girl’s High School alone feelings at graduation. Two new friends, if just for a week will always be remembered.

One day, the girl, who was not a child any longer, discovered writing. Finally there was an outlet for her inner thoughts. Could she use it? Would this be a venue to address treatment of others in school? Even with her spelling errors, she wanted to say what she felt about the injustices in this world.

The way I would like this story to end, is still being written. The girl can choose to be self absorbed, listening to her fears and inabilities and endless mistakes. Or, with the help of God through her friends, she can continue to learn from her mistakes and keep trying.