Tag: Poetry

Sometimes Winning Means Letting Go

Ch. 7 of Amber O’Brien’s Book Love. Always. Wins.
Short true story entitled “Unshackled”

Clunk. She dropped the phone and started to sob uncontrollably.

Hearing only the dial tone, I collapsed in a nearby chair stunned by my own words. I could only wonder how my dear friend would respond as she sat in her wheelchair in a psychiatric day room while she recovered from a stroke. Would she follow through on her threats to end her life ? Did I just push her over the edge?

Two-and-a-half years before this call, I had moved right next door to her and we had often chatted while our children played. Soon I discovered her grief due to the recent loss of her father, along with other stressful life changes. But as the months passed, Cindy seemed to be stuck in her sorrow. Because of the continuous blue days, she enlisted a psychiatrist and received medications, yet nothing seemed to alleviate her pain. In addition, sleepless nights and panic attacks escalated into a severe clinical depression.

My heart hurt for her as I watched her struggle. I doubled some meals to share with her family, and her three children often spent time in my home as I helped them with schoolwork. I held her hand while she cried, and often prayed for her. However, my words never seemed to sink in.

During this time, I observed Cindy’s unending freefall into the depths of unsuccessful treatments that seemed to make her situation worse, not better. I felt so helpless. Admission to the hospital seven separate times proved fruitless for her, even while different combinations of medications had been prescribed. Horror shook me the day I noticed the black and blue marks that ran all the way up and down her arms because of the needles used to put her under for electrical shock treatments. As a last resort, my friend submitted to ECT which erased her memory and left her in a zombie-like state and with no expression on her face.

Equally painful was the awareness I had of the profound effects that Cindy’s illness caused for her children. Her voice flat, her words few, and her lack of awareness about her family shadowed the entire household.

Medical setback, after setback, seemed to fling Cindy deeper into depression. Where was God? I wondered. Why won’t you help this family?

Then the depression penetrated so deeply that Cindy attempted suicide. One day, after her family had left the house for school and work, she swallowed a bottle of pills. Her husband found her in time and drove her to the emergency room. She screamed, “NO! I want to die! Leave me alone!” again and again as they pumped her stomach.

In contrast, right next door in our own home, my two little girls and I felt excitement as we prepared for our third baby. But to our great shock, Megan was born three months early, and soon rested in the clear plastic incubator in the NICU. I sat in a wheelchair beside her, dazed, and sore with the staples in my stomach from the emergency cesarean.

Two days later on Christmas morning , I found myself still alone and confused in my stark, white hospital bed. They released me so that I could go home to be with my family, but Megan would need to stay in the NICU and would not be coming with me. Why did you allow this to happen, Lord? I pleaded fervently, Please , please, don’t let my baby die!

~~~

On January 30th in a psychiatric hospital not far away, my dear friend, Cindy, experienced a hypertensive crisis. After being transferred to a local shock trauma center, she underwent surgery due to a stroke and remained in ICU. Now Cindy lay paralyzed, unable to speak or move. So now, in addition to battling depression, she became a patient incapable of attending to her own personal needs of bathing, dressing, feeding herself, and walking.

It was only three days later on February 2nd, that I sat, again, in another hospital holding my precious baby girl for the very last time. After forty long days of ups and downs, the doctor informed us that her little organs had begun to permanently shut down. I held my tiny daughter in my arms as she breathed her last while my husband cried softly in the corner of the room.

During this final moment that I held our infant daughter, I sensed a supernatural peace. I knew for certain that Megan, an innocent baby, was now “healed in heaven,” and safe in the arms of Jesus.

I absolutely felt God’s peace and presence that day, but as the weeks after her death crawled by, my initial numbness melted away. I felt overcome with disappointment and anger.

Cindy became more and more angry at God too.

In fact, Cindy’s anger prevented her from following instructions, and she decided to stop taking her medication and food altogether. That is when Cindy’s husband called to inform me that, “Tomorrow they will have to put a tube down her throat to force feed her.”

Suddenly, my compassion for Cindy turned to anger. When I heard that she was making a conscious decision to end her life, then I had had enough. My own loss over Megan’s death fueled my passion as I picked up the phone to call Cindy.

Her ears recognized my voice, but not my stern, authoritative tone. “I heard you have stopped eating?” I started.

“That’s right,” she answered. After a pause, she continued. “Maybe when I’m dead and gone, then everyone will realize how sick I really was, and they’ll be sorry. Mark will be sorry he didn’t take my illness more seriously.”

“Cindy —NO ONE is going to feel sorry for you if you die. They are going to feel sorry for Mark who would be left alone with three small children. Life will go on if you die. Sure, Mark will grieve for a little while, but then he will marry another woman! Someone else who will then take care of your children! They need you, Cindy! They are not being properly cared for.” “That’s Mark’s job now,” she retorted.

“NO, it isn’t! You are the mother. You have been very strong-willed and selfcentered. All you have thought about is yourself and your needs. You never flick an eye to help others, not even your own family. You’re so wrapped up in anger and resentment that you can’t see beyond the tip of your nose!”

That is when she dropped the phone out of her hand that had been propped on the wheelchair. Clunk! Unbeknownst to me, she began to sob so loudly that staff ran to her and took her back to her room.

A few hours later, providentially, a pastor visited to talk and to pray with her.

He reminded her about how God valued her life, and about how her family loved her and needed her. Later that afternoon, Cindy pondered my piercing words that paved the way for her to hear the warmth of God’s love for her spoken by the minister.

Over the next few weeks, Cindy worked with a physical therapist every day as she recovered from the damage done by the stroke. From relearning to feed herself and to walk again, she made steady progress.

After time to reflect, Cindy made an important phone call to her husband. “Mark —I want to tell you! I gave my life to Christ last night! I could hardly sleep all night! —I was so full of joy!”

Cindy progressed physically, but I was most excited about her new desire to pray and to memorize scripture. I wrote out Bible verses for her which she taped to the wall next to her hospital bed and she memorized each one. Not long after, she asked God to help her to forgive her father and all the other ones who had hurt her. Cindy began to pray, keep a journal, and listen to a Christian radio station.

Four months after the stroke, she finally returned home. Even though she had more speech, occupational, and physical therapy ahead of her, and she couldn’t even drive a car for a few more months, her depression had lifted. Day by day, I watched as God healed her physically, mentally, and spiritually.

One morning, I visited her home while she was still recovering and sitting in a rolling chair. She shone with gratefulness as she explained to me that she wanted to buy pizza for all those still left behind in the psychiatric ward. In addition to her awareness of others, I noticed that her eyes often looked upward when she shared about even the smallest reason for thanksgiving that others might take for granted. “I was taking a bath and noticed my toes!

How amazing of God to give us toes so that we can balance.”

Twenty-five years later, even though other life hardships and challenges have taken place, Cindy has not fallen back into depression. Now she peer coaches others who are hurting in her church and in the surrounding community, and she shares her amazing testimony of God’s faithfulness.

Both of my prayer requests for healing were answered for my dear friend and for my beautiful baby.

One healed on earth, the other healed in heaven.

* * *

Surrender

(short poem)

He stretched out his wounded hands,

and embraced the world,

“Father, forgive them,

for they know not what they do.”

Then He surrendered His Spirit,

And His will to His father.

Oh, this is Love.

After Rising from the dead,

He once more stretched out his nail-scarred hands,

And said, “Peace be with you,”

A trinity of times.

He then breathed out His Spirit

“Forgive, as I forgive.”

Oh, this is Love.

* * *

Mary’s Love Song

Poem

Its already been a long road,

They judge and stare at me,

Every door was closed in Bethlehem,

But your Love rescues me.

They already try to kill Him,

King Herod makes us flee,

A sword will pierce this mother’s heart,

But your Love sets me free.

Heaven, Manna from Heaven,

Purest of Love and Light,

Rests in my arms tonight,

Heaven, I’m holding Heaven,

And. All. Will. Be. Made. Right.

All will be made right… through Jesus,

All will be made right,

Heaven’s best sent down to save us, so,

All. Will. Be. Made. Right.

Both the Holy Lamb of Heaven,

and All-Mighty God is He,

He comes to break the chains of sin,

To set All people free.

In this world we will have trouble,

So He came to hold our hands,

Our story ends in victory,

Heaven for those who stand.

Heaven, Manna from Heaven,

Purest of Love and Light,

Rests in my arms tonight,

Heaven, I’m holding Heaven,

And. All. Will. Be. Made. Right.

All will be made right… through Jesus,

All will be made right,

Heaven’s best sent down to save us, so,

All . Will. Be. Made. Right.

* * *

The Pieta’s Peace

~~Sometimes winning means letting go~~

I couldn’t stop gazing at her hands. Carved from white marble, they did not tightly grip him, but they gently cradled his limp body upon her lap. Her left hand lay open with its palm facing upward as her beautiful, serene face admired her lifeless son.

St. Peter’s Basilica in Vatican City overwhelmed me as I knew I could never take in all the meaning and beauty within a single visit. One of the largest churches in the world, as well as a masterpiece of architecture, it contains numerous chapels and altars with lavish decorations, renaissance paintings, mosaics, and sculptures.

Despite the numerous fascinating art adhering to every ceiling, wall, and floor in the massive cathedral that houses the tomb of St. Peter, I felt drawn back to Mary’s hands. The smooth, small relinquished open palms portrayed in the masterpiece, The Pieta, by the world-renowned sculptor, Michelangelo, spoke to my own grieving heart.

The Pieta depicts a moment just after Jesus is taken down from the cross, and when his mother, Mary, holds him in her lap one last time. The sculpture, chiseled out of stone 1500 years prior, mesmerizes crowds today who stand in silence to comprehend the heart-wrenching experience of Mary. The son who the angel had promised would be called the Son of God, lay dead in her arms after the long torture of scourging by whips, rejection and mocking by men, and dying the horrendous, slow death of suffocaton on the cross. Despite this treatment, Jesus demonstrated love until His last dying words which extended forgiveness for those who hurt him.

I kept wandering back to this stunning statue to ponder the secret of Mary’s beautiful, peaceful face. The answer, I realized, lay in those open, trusting hands. Mary’s hands still rested palm up while Jesus lay on her lap. Meanwhile, my own heart and hands tightly gripped a loved one back home who faced a difficult situation.

Captivated by The Pieta and the message it carried, I decided to google Michelangelo and his timeless sculpture. At the early age of six, after losing his mother to a long period of illness, Michelangelo was sent to stay with his uncle, a stone cutter. After suffering such a tragic loss at such a tender age, Michelangelo knew the agony of grief. Perhaps, though, he also learned how God could reconcile loss as he stepped into his career as an artist using the skills he learned in his uncle’s workshop.

The word “pieta” literally means “pity, compassion, and suffering.” Michelangelo revealed later that he did not want his version of the Pieta to represent death, but rather “to show the religious vision of abandonment.” Abandonment. Yes, that is what those surrendering hands demonstrate.

I interpreted the scene as Mary trusting in God, and giving back to Him the gift that had been given to her so many years before. I wondered if the sculpture that took two years to complete could have been Michelangelo’s gift back to God. Maybe he learned as a young boy the secret of abandonment, letting go, and he displayed that serenity that is reflected in the carving of Mary’s face. Perhaps he desired to share with others the peace that could be found when one loosens their grip, and stops trying to hold on so hard.

The image of the Pieta rested in my mind even when I’d returned to our accommodations that evening. Kneeling beside the bed, I stretched out my hands, palms turned upward, and I placed my own struggling loved one back into God’s strong, loving, and dependable hands. Yielding, I released this special one to God, and said out loud, “I give her back to you. She is Yours.”

I continued to pray this, “prayer of abandonment,” whenever an anxious thought gripped me. I chose to release my own expectations and demands, and made room for God to intervene and work. As I handed her back to God, I felt peace. My surrender led to to sweet, indescrible peace, as beautiful as the expression on Mary’s serene face.

* * *

* * *

Discussion questions for those who want to delve deeper:

  1. The Story of Cindy Narup, produced by Unshackled, the award-winning radio drama through The Pacific Garden Mission in Chicago is Episode #2616, February 2001. While first created in English, one can now listen to Cindy’s story on the website, Unshacked.org, in Korean, Polish, Romanian, Russian, and Spanish. Thousands have tuned in to hear her story from around the world. In truth, we all face the challenges of being shackled by selfish attitudes and choices. But, God’s powerful and constant love can set us free. What did Cindy finally do to let God in?
  2. Look up Proverbs 27:6 and Proverbs 24:26. Do you appreciate when afriend is honest with you? How can we know when to speak up, or when to be silent? (Remember in the previous chapter, Not Guilty and The Garden of Paradise, that the author confronted a friend when the best action in that case actually would have been to be quiet and listen).
  3. Look up 2 Corinthians 5:17. How does this passage describe Cindy? Whatother analogies remind you of transformation?
  4. Who has God arranged as your neighbor? Whose path do you cross often?The author grew to love Cindy as they spent time together, and attempted to express love to her neighbor in multiple practical ways. If Cindy had not had a close relationship with the author, then could the phone call have ended badly?
  5. The poem, Mary’s Love Song, proclaims the final victory that will result because of Jesus. Look up Colossians 1:19-20. What is God’s will for all things? How does this need to be accomplished? While you are in Colossians, chapter one, read verse 17. Can you trust Him to hold you and your family together? Now, extra slow, read Colossians 1:15-23. What is your role as described in this passage?
  6. Read again, slowly, the poem, The Pieta’s Peace. Study the sketch of this famous masterpiece. Especially observe the position of Mary’s hands. Think about what, or who, you might be gripping?
  7. Look up Luke 7:36-50. How do we receive true peace?

* * *

Time for Dessert

Write a letter to someone who has hurt you. Write out all your anger and resentment that you have been holding inside. Now rip the letter up and go forward !

Epilogue

How Not to Host a Husband Bash

( Ch.6 of Amber O’Brien’s Love. Always. Wins.)

~~Sometimes love turns the tide~~

I recently attended a tea party fit for a princess. My generous friend shared her gift of hospitality with five of us and considered every detail. She greeted us with warm enthusiastic hugs individually as each one arrived at her door. Real china and crystal candelabras set the lavish table, and soon, the scones, quiche, and chocolate-covered strawberries followed. As the tea steeped, she asked clever questions of each guest so as to connect us all in a positive manner and to help the conversation to flow.

But then… the sweet picture-perfect scene turned sour.

The conversation spiraled into negative sharing about our husbands. Light- hearted jokes snowballed into complaints and ungratefulness. Regrettably, I laughed along and joined the banter.

But then… the gracious and wise hostess offered the suggestion that turned back the tide of our elegant tea party. “Why don’t we go around the table and say something good about our husbands?” she encouraged us. “Okay? I’ll start…” she began.

My friend shared a cherished routine that her and her husband enjoy when he returns home from a business trip. Soon after he’s home again, they dress up (her husband puts on a dinner jacket), and they dance in the kitchen to celebrate!

Now the energy flowed as each woman shared a positive point about her husband. One couple, we learned, text each other the words of their favorite songs during the day as a code for romantic messages. A chorus of women giggled, “That’s so beautiful! We love that idea!”

After taking a sip of the now simmered tea, another friend thought of how her husband always complimented her in public, and how she wanted to be more like him in this way.

The previous drip-dripping of negativity that wears away at relationships, turned into a rain of refreshment. Our time together resulted in new ideas and in a renewed appreciation of our loved ones.

In the book of Proverbs, the impact of a wife’s nagging and negative words is compared to an irritating leak…drip, drip, drip.

“A nagging wife is like water going drip-drip-drip on a rainy day.” Proverbs 27:15

In addition, the book of Judges tells the story of strong Samson and the constant imploring words of Delilah. She ‘nags him to death’ and he eventually reveals the actual secret of his hidden strength. This results not only in Samson’s eyes being dug out, but also in him being chained in bondage until the end of his life.

Words can tear down and words can build up. Smearing the dirt on our husbands is like rolling in the mud for everybody to see because we are one unit as husband and wife.

I know the excuses we tend to give because I’ve used them myself. “I’m just venting,” or, “My friends are my therapists.” But a therapist would not personally know your husband and would not be passing any information along to others. In truth, your friends probably will. At the very least, their opinion of your spouse will decrease.

So guard your mouth and speak only life-giving, delicious tidbits about your spouse. Love protects relationships and looks for the best in others.

What should you do the next time you are tempted to focus on a negative quality of your spouse?

Take out a pen and paper, and write down ten positive statements about them instead. The next time a situation arises, read the list out loud.

Be ready for the next time when a friend begins to share some of her complaints. Perhaps interject something like: “I know that Joe isn’t perfect, but what is something that he does really well?” A true friend will support your marriage and help pull you out of the pit of self-pity.

So… lay out the good china dishes, my friend, and fill them with the choicest of words.

~~Love never grows old~~

As I was walking down the beach today, I overheard a white-haired lady chatting with her friends. “Do you know what my number number one bucket list item is?” she paused, and then exclaimed, “To fall in Love!” and added, “Again!”

Was she a widow? Was she divorced? All I knew was that she placed falling in love, AGAIN, as her top priority.

While I continued to walk along the shore, I remembered a simple poem that I had written many years ago about God’s desire for us to each fall in love with our spouses, again and again. God can ‘make all things new.’ We can’t control our spouse or change him, but we can ask God to help us to be the best wife and the best friend to our husband as possible.

How to Fall in Love… Again

Oh give my husband a brand new wife,

One that will partner lovingly.

Give him the helpmate that he so needs,

And may that ‘new wife’ always be me.

Oh give my husband a hot lover,

One that will surprise lovingly.

Give her energy and fresh ideas,

And may that ‘lover’ always be me.

Oh give my husband a new best friend,

One that will listen lovingly.

Give her Your wisdom to find the good,

And may that ‘best friend’ always be me.

As newlyweds, Dave and I searched for our first Christmas tree. I remember shivering in the cold, and being perfectly willing to take home any one of the many trees that we spotted along the way.

But Dave kept searching for, “the perfect tree,” which we all know is not a thing. (Neither is there a perfect wife).

This poem was my tongue-in-cheek way to find the good in having a husband who takes soooo long to pick out certain items.

I hope, sweet sister, that you will look for the positive qualities in those around you. When I get frustrated or angry, for instance, sometimes I make a list of the top ten great qualities about my husband. Focusing on the good always changes my perspective. Perhaps the best gift you could give you and your spouse today is to start making such a list right now.

“Finally, brothers and sisters,

whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable

—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy

—think about such things.”

(Philippians 4:8)

Moon Beams

Soon after the “I do’s,” and sometimes even during the honeymoon, we realize that our spouse might not be as perfect as we once imagined. On the other hand, despair might drag us down when we learn that we have disappointed our dear one, and may have grown less-than-shiny in their eyes, as well.

We are left with a decision to either run away, or to stay, and look up to the only One who will love us completely, and meet our deepest needs.

Oh my sister, we so long for beauty and to be beautiful, don’t we? The answer is one and the same. For wrapped up in human skin, our heavenly father sent a gift of true beauty and pure perfection. As we seek to spend time with Him, more rays of His light, beauty, and love will reflect out to others. We will mirror back His healing love just as the lightless moon reflects the powerful brilliance of the sun.

Oh, what comfort. Despite our many craters of flaws and mistakes, God’s love is more. God’s love, poured out for us on the cross, smooths over and makes us flawless. Like a waxing moon in a velvet sky, your soul is growing more radiant as you continue to choose to turn toward the Son.

A Mid-Life Epiphany

Husbands please be patient,

I know we now both agree,

Your wife is far from perfect,

Just like your Christmas tree.

Our needles are brown and shedding,

Our bottoms have grown too wide,

Once firm branches are now drooping,

Too tattered for trimmings to hide.

Don’t look too close is now our plea,

Your search might be mistaken,

And please don’t look around fretting,

“All her youth has now been taken.”

Long ago Magi searched the skies,

Longing for Israel’s winning King,

Wise men still seek to find this Son,

A perfection worth worshiping.

So husbands look up past the tree,

Echo out epic epiphany,

“As the moon mirrors the sun’s light,

You reflect God’s love beautifully. ”

Stay

~~Sometimes love doesn’t take the easy way~~

Grimacing in pain, he gripped his cane while he teetered stiffly to our table, like an accident victim in a full body cast who was just learning to walk. However, once he finally arrived, he didn’t sit down because for John, standing was only slightly less painful than sitting.

So John stood by our round table at the restaurant, while his wife, my husband, and I, enjoyed our spicy Mexican tacos in iron-wrought chairs. He did not stand in order to see the winding river below our patio, but to find relief from his chronic back pain. This awful pain had worsened over the past two decades that John and his wife, Bonnie, had continually sought medical care and prayed for God’s intervention.

My heart hurt as I watched his handsome face (much too young for a cane) wince in pain at every movement. I could only imagine the long-suffering heart of his wife who has lovingly cared for him each and every day, through surgeries and ‘recoveries’ due to his long term back issues.

Bonnie patiently ‘waits’ on God as she also lovingly ‘waits’ on her husband. For months she brought food to his upstairs bed as it was too painful for him to move downstairs. She chose commitment over fleeing, as most days she is also housebound.

However, although detained in her own home, her example of sacrifice and faithfulness reaches to her children and others, like the brilliant light that the moon reflects for so many during long, dark nights. The moon’s beautiful glowing is but a reflection of the awesome sun, which is powerful, radiant, and the center of our universe. Bonnie and John have made their devotion to Jesus, the Light of the World, the center of their family’s universe.

She spoke these words to us across the table, as gently as her life demonstrates them:

“Love is not a feeling… Love is a commitment.”

She faithfully holds on to her marriage vows of, “for Better or for Worse,” with one hand while her other hand clutches God’s promises to be faithful to her and her family.

Her greatest concern is for her children’s character. They observe real life lessons day-in and day-out as both of their parents remain steadfast in their hope and trust in God, despite the failed procedures and chronic pain.

She has a long term perspective. Bonnie refers to this time on earth as “a blip” compared to eternity.

Her commitment is to God and to her husband. Her desire is for her children to marry someday and to be spouses who exhibit true persevering love in every circumstance.

She. Is. More. Beautiful. —than any runway model. Bonnie models

True.

Unselfish. Enduring. Committed. Love.

* * *

What should you do, sweet friend, when the feelings fade? When life disappoints?

When you want to flee?

To give up?

Look to God’s love wrapped in raw flesh on the cross. Did Jesus feel like carrying his cross? Did He feel like staying on the cross? Remember how in the garden He begged that the bitter cup be taken away?

Jesus, all human, and, at the same time, all God, could have come down at any moment. But instead, Jesus stayed on the cross —for us.

Love stayed. He stayed.

He stayed because He loves you, my dear one,

and He so desires to spend eternity with you.

Love stayed.

Love became the way.

* * *

Discussion questions for those who want to delve deeper:

  1. Have you ever been to a tea party that turned sour? Why is it so easy to complain about those closest to us?
  • Read and underline Proverbs 14:1. What does a wise woman do instead? Turn to Proverbs 18:21. What is the most powerful part of your body?
  • Read Matthew 7:1-5. Ouch! Do you notice your own personal plank, or the sawdust of another? How can we accomplish this difficult task?
  • In Mid-Life Epiphany, the author bemoans that she is changing as she grows older, and is no longer “perfect” in her husband’s eyes. What makes a person beautiful to you? To God?
  • Can we expect to change our spouse? How can we become a better wife, or friend?
  • How is Bonnie like, ‘the full moon on a velvet night’?  Does our culture encourage this commitment? Do you feel like running away sometimes from your situation? (*To be sure, at times a trusted Christian friend or counselor might help to gain perspective when we share personal thoughts —which is very different from the story of the ‘husband bashing’ that might occur in a social setting).
  • What would our world be like if Jesus did not ‘Stay’? Why did He ‘Stay’ for you?

* * *

Time for Dessert

Sit down and write 10 positive things about your spouse or family member.

Better yet, after you make your list, place it on their pillow tonight.

You both will sleep better.

When you need God the most..He is already there.

In The Midst of Storms

~ Sometimes love means getting wet in the rain. ~

Ch.5 of Amber O’Brien’s book Love.Always.Wins.

So. Much. Rain.

For two whole weeks ⁠—long, dark days of rain ⁠—short, violent storms and hail. Broken branches littered my yard and canceled plans littered my calendar.

“Where is Noah?” I asked, “Is his ark about to pass us by?” I teased my coworkers as we looked out my office window at the sheets of rain falling on the parking lot.

But what I was really looking for was a rainbow.

Don’t we all hope for the rainbows? Aren’t we all searching for some beauty after the pain, some encouragement after the rain?

But for the longest time I couldn’t find one.

“Look for the sun,” my husband reminded me. “Both the sun and rain are needed at the same time to create a rainbow.” And then… It. Happened.

On our way to dinner we drove through the middle of a perfect rainbow. Glorious colors —red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, and violet on both sides of a giant arch with the ends close to each side of the road. Our car slowed to a saunter under the middle of a breathtakingly beautiful rainbow.

My sweet sister, Liese, calls this, “A kiss from God.” A kiss or God-wink is an aha moment when our loving father provides a reminder that He is always with us and knows what we need.

This rainbow reminded me of the promises from our loving, caring creator that joy does come after times of drought —and it does come after long nights of doubt.

Most comforting to me was the realization that I didn’t have to wait until the rain had ended to see a rainbow. Both sun and rain are needed at the same time.

In my soul I was reminded of God’s faithfulness —I am here. I am here in the rain. I am here in your pain.

Soon after I noticed God’s sign in the sky and I caught my breath, I began to sing the chorus of a poem I had written years before:

In the midst of storms, rainbows are born, His love shines through our tears.

In the midst of storms, rainbows are born,

He is here, He is here.

He loves you, my sweet sister. He promises to be with you through the storm. Just as Noah and his family stepped off the ark to realize the beautiful bow in the sky, the fresh arched piece of God’s gift of glory covers the roads you embark on.

Sweet surprises are ahead for you.

Your part is simple… just like my husband encouraged me, “Look for the Son.”

* * *

In the Midst of Storms

* * *

Kind Kisses

~ Sometimes love means being kind first. ~

If looks could kill, then every morning she killed me again, and again.

Each morning that she dropped her daughter off at our school, our paths crossed, and I noticed her body froze, her face turned to stone, and her eyes pierced my own when I greeted her. The constant reminder of how much discord existed between us when we saw one another seemed to make her more irritated and miserable.

Months before, we’d had a tough meeting. It happened when my job had been to set some boundaries with her after her unpleasant words toward one of my employees. As a result, she was asked not to interact, or even to approach that person for a temporary period.

My assumption had been that she would pull her child from the program, but instead, she kept her daughter in our community because she thrived in our care. But maybe, she had just stayed to make my life miserable.

So far, she was winning.

I felt ready to move on and to forgive her for the incident, but her eyes demonstrated that, “if looks could kill,”then she wished, instead of moving on, that she might want to, “move over,” my dead body.

My initial tactic had been to act cheerful and friendly when I spotted her arriving at school with her daughter. “Good morning!” I’d greet her with a smile, and tried to push through the uncomfortable situation.

The upbeat engagement that I attempted only seemed to result with her increased irritation. Her already anxious face grew exceedingly serious each time she stepped through the door to leave her daughter before going on to her high-level corporate position.

Unfortunately, I am ashamed to admit that I grew weary and turned my greeting into one of sarcasm one morning when I called out, “Have a nice day!” She picked up my tone, and responded in a like manner, leaving me with a feeling of defeat and disappointment in myself.

Weeks passed while I now resorted to avoid her. However, the daily tension became so great, that I decided to zero in on the problem with God.

“Oh Lord, what can I do to make this better?” Vaguely recalling a Bible verse from Proverbs about winning over an enemy with kindness, I began a google search. “A gift in secret pacifies anger,” it states in Proverbs 21:13.

What gift could I give her? I kept thinking about this, and praying. I realized that some common ground that we shared was the joy of her daughter. In fact, this woman was a wonderful mother, even so much that she chose to leave her daughter in the best situation despite her own personal discomfort. Maybe I could write her a card about her bright and engaging daughter that she could read in her own personal space. Taking a pen, I shared the truth about what a gift that Becky continued to be at our school. To illustrate, I included some specific examples for her encouragement.

A few days later, our paths crossed, and this time her face softened when she saw me. She approached me and thanked me for the card. After chatting briefly about her amazing daughter, we both went on to enjoy our day.

“Looks can kill,” but a thoughtful, authentic gift can heal.

* * *

Creamy, Cool Kisses

~~Sometimes love remains anonymous~~

Yesterday marked the anniversary of my infant daughter’s ‘Heaven Day.’

After 40 days of encouraging ups and heartbreaking downs in the NICU, God’s loving presence embraced me as I held my baby’s beautiful, perfectly formed body for the last time. Peace covered me like the soft, warm wings of the angels that carried her home.

Days later, while I watched her tiny coffin lowered carefully into the frozen ground, this peace continued to cover me as the thick, white snow clings to a barren tree.

Soon after all my friends and family went back to their own lives, I realized why the loss of a child has been described as having one’s arm cut off. The limb will never grow back, and the pain is agonizing as the process of the raw, open wound slowly heals. Insensitive comments and pat explanations sting as if salt is being rubbed into the open wound.

My husband and I both carried gaping wounds and grieved differently. As a result, we could not comfort each other. During this lonely, terrible time of darkness, my sensitive small daughters each regressed as they reacted to the recent rollercoaster of events and emotions. The oldest, who before Megan’s death had been potty-trained, reverted and started to cling to me for support. Both vied for my attention, and bickered between themselves. I struggled to care for them as the grief sapped so much of my energy.

For example, I remember standing at the sink one day, and yelling out to God, “Why did you give her to me… only to take her away?” Tears ran down my cheeks and I shook with pain. Underneath my anger cried a hurt little girl who felt that God had ignored her prayers. Truly, I had begged for God to heal my baby.

A few months after both the funeral and my emotional outburst to God, I bundled up my two older daughters (three-and-a-half, and two-years-old), and drove to the local mall. Soon after we arrived, I decided to buy ice cream for my precious little ones in the food court. When I approached the register to pay for it, the cashier explained that our treats had been taken care of. The bearded man explained, “Each day a man comes here, and picks someone to buy ice cream for. Today he picked you and your little girls.” Oh what a sweet kiss from God when I needed it the most.

My need wasn’t money, for I had plenty to buy ice cream. But what I had needed to know was that God saw me. I needed to know that He cared about me, and that He would tend to my tender faith and raw questions.

I now had proof that I was not alone. This was the beginning of my awakening to the fact that God saw my sore, hurting heart, and grieved with me.

He would gently guide me through my it, and help one moment at a time.

God’s loving touch of sweet provision soothed my raw, hurting heart as cool, sweet ice cream runs down and coats a sore throat.

Twenty-four years later, my eyes still fill with mist when I remember how I felt during this time, the lowest and loneliest season in my life. But then those sad tears join with ones of gratefulness as I also remember God’s personal kisses of kindness.

I now realize how important doing acts of kindness anonymously can be, for then the recipient does not have to use up energy to repay anybody back. Because of this, the recipient can truly receive a gift from the hand of God ⁠—the One who is The Giver of all good gifts.

I call these inspired and Spirit-led acts of kindness giving a KISS from God.

K – Kindness

I – In

S – ‘Spired by the

S – Spirit (The Holy Spirit)

A KISS is different from the often referred to, “Random Act of Kindness” or “RAK,” which has the connotation of just being due to random luck. Instead, a “Kiss” in not accidental at all, but consists of who looks and prays for someone who is hurting, and by listening to God, takes action for how to best respond.

“What is Love to me?” someone might ask.

A small cone of vanilla ice cream given by a stranger.

* * *

Discussion questions for those that want to delve deeper:

1. What does a rainbow promise in the Bible? Look up Genesis 9: 9-17. The Bible begins and ends with a rainbow, for in the last book, Revelation, a rainbow circles God’s throne. See Revelation 4:1-4. What do you think this means?

1. Ponder and share a specific way that God has ‘kissed you’ recently with His kindness.

1. In Kind Kisses, a written note softens a strained situation. Have you ever given or received such a gift? Is the Holy Spirit leading you to express love to someone in your world?

1. Sometimes, like in Creamy, Cool Kisses, the best kind of gift might be anonymous. Why is it more difficult to give in secret? Or, is it easier? Share an example from your life.

1. How can we allow the Holy Spirit to guide us so that our ‘kiss’ reaches the right person at the right time?

1. Look up Colossians 3:12-14. Read it slowly. How can your love act like glue in your relationships?

1. How is the acronym RAK different from KISS? Why does the word, ‘random,’ not work as well in our walk with the Lord?

* * *

Time for a Dessert Challenge

Place a giftcard in an envelope with a short note that says,

God sees you and adores you, for a neighbor, or a friend who is struggling.

What is Reality?

Ch. 3 from Amber O’Brien’s book, “Love.Always.Wins.”

~~Sometimes Love Means Planning a Retreat~~

Locked in our small powder room, I cling to the phone with my friend
on the other end while my three children knock on the door and call
out, “Mom, she hit me!” and, “Jacob won’t let me use the computer!”
Then my husband chimes in with, “Amber, have you seen my shoes?”
Ignoring the interruptions, I ask my friend on the line, “Have you ever wanted
to just get away to a deserted island?”
This scene is actually the opening of one of the many hilarious videos that
I have submitted to the reality show, Survivor. If you think I am crazy for
wanting to go to a remote location for thirty-nine days to live off the land,
eat bugs, wear no makeup (yikes!) and to put myself in a situation that risks
ridicule and failure, I don’t blame you. I have wondered the same thing, time
and again.
The producers must have wondered about me, too, after seeing the second
part of the video that we submitted. My ‘director husband’ captures me on
camera during a tropical family vacation in which I suddenly emerge from
the sea of blue, sparkling water. After my exaggerated expressions of finding
myself on the beautiful Caribbean beach, I skip toward the shore, beaded
hair flying in the breeze, and full of pure, inexplicable joy —when BOOM!
—Three children (my own!)— run into me, and knock me to the ground. As
soon as I manage to sit up, I shout with laughter, “I meant without the kids!”


Yes, I confess to submitting videos and applications to be on the show more
than once. I imagine that the overtired judges might have put their fingers in
their ears as I belted out the tune of the Gilligan’s Island theme song, rewritten
in my own words: “Just sit right back, and you’ll hear a tale,… the tale of a
homeschool mom…”
While the words might have been clever, my singing voice has never been one
of my best assets. Nevertheless, creating the videos was always great family
fun.
In contrast to the lighthearted videos, the application questions forced me to
dig deeper. One especially caused me to stop and ponder: “Who is your hero,
and why?”
I soon realized that my heroes were not the former winners of Survivor, or
even the idolized actors or athletes on television. Instead, my thoughts turned
to those unrecognized people who serve God every day in the way they take
care of others. My list of heroes grew to include:

  • The couple down the street who care for a special needs child,
  • A woman who allows her personal anger to dissolve into forgiveness,
  • A friend’s husband who turns away from temptation,
  • Another friend who regrets a past decision, but now helps others not to
    make it,
  • The family who says “yes” to an unexpected child,
  • The couple who commits to counseling to reconcile their dying marriage,
  • A teen addict who seeks help,
  • A single parent who plays both the roles of mom and dad,

    The list goes on, and on, and on, including all who face their challenges by
    choosing love.
    These precious people give, and forgive, when no cameras are rolling, and
    when no crew is watching. These “true survivors” endure hardship and
    heartache which last longer than a mere thirty-nine days. No chance of
    winning a million dollars, or of appearing on Good Morning America loom in
    the future to reward them. These are not sexy super-models, but they are the
    ones who ‘model’ for me who I hope to become.
    Despite my family’s support and our best efforts, I never did receive the call
    to come in for an audition. Yet, as time went on, my dream to be on the show
    remained.
    I tried to rationalize and justify my desires.
    The draw of adding to the diversity in this social experiment appealed to
    me. After all, I reasoned, they needed a Christian homeschooling mom on
    the show! I mean, how many homeschooling moms made it on the set of
    Survivor? Zero! (Of course, it’s questionable if any have actually applied).
    I also wanted justice. I just hated to see someone who lied and cheated get the
    win. Perhaps I could show them that the best strategy is to be truthful and
    trustworthy. Perhaps my mission field would consist of millions of viewers!

  • Mother Teresa’s quote rang in my thoughts: “Don’t look for big things, just
    do small things with great love.” Remembering her words helped to ground
    me, once again, to be content with the everyday roles that God had given me.
    I decided to pray, “Lord, take from me this desire to get away, if it is not of
    You.”
    Then. It. Happened.
    My desire “to get away” became a reality one weekend when I answered an
    invitation to attend a silent women’s retreat with a friend. So wonderful.
    My private room greeted me with fresh-cut flowers, and handwritten notes
    reminding me that others were praying for me. I felt spoiled by the delicious,
    homemade meals prepared for us, and the well-cared for lawns to walk
    throughout. Together, they refreshed my body and soul. I listened in the
    quiet, and I soaked up the devotions that seemed to be delivered just for me.
    “What is reality?” the priest asked. And then, he answered his own question:
    “Reality is the love Christ has for you,” he said, as his words stunned me
    to attention.
    “You might think that you worked hard to plan this weekend away, —but
    Jesus, for all of eternity, has been planning to spend this special time with
    you.”
    I believed that God had orchestrated this whole weekend all along. This
    respite (from the busyness of my routine and draining days) restored and
    refreshed me.
    After time to be still and reflect, to know truth, and to allow my heart to be
    changed, I left rejuvenated and clean, just as if coming out of a warm, soapy
    shower. I returned home as a re-energized wife, and a revitalized mother.
    I realized now that I had agreed to come because of those earlier stirrings
    in my heart to get away. It turns out that I didn’t need to flee to a deserted
    island. Instead, I actually needed to step away and be still for the eyes of my
    heart to be opened to the reality of God’s renewing love for me.


A Love to Last the Ages – A poem by Amber O’Brien


Jesus and me have a date today,
Gonna be half past nine,
He’ll tell me I’m beautiful,
I’ll tell Him, forever, He’s mine.


Jesus and me have a date today,
He’s gonna whisper in my ear,
I’ll tell Him all my worries,
He’ll tell me, “Girl, —never fear.”


For I am His,
And He is mine,
A Love to last the ages.
I’ll share with Him my inner thoughts,
He’ll whisper through the Pages.


Jesus and me have a date today,
I know He’ll be on time,
He’s always been faithful,
Lord, help me, to be, ‘in kind,’


For He’s waiting by the seashore,
My coffee table, too.
Every red light is sacred,
Lord, help me, to be as true.


For I am His,
And He is mine,
A Love to last the ages,
I’ll share with Him my inner thoughts,
He’ll whisper through the Pages.

Wrapped Around the Shepherd’s Neck


If you were a lamb, how would you describe yourself? Obedient, or strong-willed? Have you ever wandered off during your life journey? Perhaps
you have not physically wandered away, but perhaps you have become
emotionally distracted with the appeal of another lamb, one who appears
fun and adventurous. Or, perhaps you ran ahead of The Shepherd in your
excitement for a new grassy field in the distance. What if The Shepherd saw
that you were about to fall off a cliff because of a poor choice?
Imagine Him reaching out and using the end of his shepherd’s crook to save
you from yourself. Your life is spared, but your leg is painfully broken. The
Shepherd kneels down and with his strong, firm hands begins to pick you
up, and places you around his warm neck. At first, you just think about your
pain and become jealous of the other lambs that are frolicking down below.
You writhe in discomfort, and question God with, “Why did you allow my
leg to break?”
Sometimes the agonizing hurt keeps you up at night. “Please, just heal me
now!” you plead. But, in time, you realize that now you are close enough to
hear the beating of the kind shepherd’s broken heart. His tears fall on your
face, and you realize He is suffering with you. You are so close that you can
feel His warm embrace and His compassionate kiss. You discover that being
this close to the faithful shepherd, and hearing Him whisper in your ear is
much better than aimlessly playing down below. You delight in your new
names of ‘Chosen’ and ‘Entrusted.’
While still hurting and sorrowing, you start to pray for the lambs who are
making poor choices, and for those who are also suffering in so many different
ways (hunger, sickness, grief, loneliness, depression, and more). Then you
pray for the entire flock, because you sense how His heart breaks for so many
other grieving lambs, especially for the ones who will not let Him hold them
and accept His healing love.

Then to your surprise, the shepherd declares that your leg is healed and you
are now free to be released and play with the other lambs.
What would you do?

Ode of the Crippled Lamb (poem by Amber O’Brien)


Dancing down the dry and dusty hills,
They plead for me to come down and play,
The leaping lambs bound past the Shepherd,
Wrapped ‘round His shoulders, I long to stay.


This crippled lamb clings to you, Shepherd,
So close I hear you whisper my name,
I am stilled by surrendered suffering,
Your kiss gives me purpose, midst the pain.


Once I followed the flock far from Him,
To a steep cliff, death valley beneath,
A shepherd staff reached down to save me,
My leg crippled in Love’s saving reach.


Sweet love kneels down to bandage my wounds,
He gently pulls me close to His chest,
Limping along, love weeps for my loss,
Healing me with His hot, Holy breath.


They plead for me to come down and play,
Wrapped ‘round His shoulders, I long to stay.


Discussion questions for those that want to delve deeper:

  1. When have you known that you needed to get away from the routine of
    your life?
    Where did you go?
    Do you need to plan for one in your near future?
  2. The author thought that a spot on a reality show would fill her desire. Have
    you ever thought that fame or fortune would bring you fulfillment?
  3. Who is your hero?
    Who do you respect for their generous Love?
  4. In the poem, A Love to Last the Ages, the author finds time throughout the
    day to chat with Jesus. How can you experience similar “mini-getaways”?
  5. Read the Song of Songs, chapter 2. Take out your journal, and ponder with
    your pen. In this love poem in the Bible, God is believed to represent the male
    lover, while we, His Bride, symbolize, “His beloved.” He says He wants you
    to, “Arise, come, my darling; my beautiful one, come with me,” (v.10). Write
    down the terms of endearment (the adjectives) that He uses for you.
  6. Look up John 14:1-7, and write it out. How do we know The Truth?
  7. In addition, look up Revelation 3:14-21. Who is knocking? Who must
    open the door?
    During the author’s weekend retreat, the Lord works in her heart to help her
    reevaluate her desires, wants, and needs. When you go on your ‘date with Jesus,’
    perhaps, ask Him if there is anything that needs changing in your heart. Write it
    down, and ask for help and strength to be transformed.

Time for Dessert
Set a time to meet with Jesus tomorrow morning, and schedule the date on
your calendar. Grab your Bible, a journal, and a favorite pen. Choose a special
spot to meet.
A handy acronym, that I use, is ACTS.
A = Adoration
Pick an adjective to describe God’s character
and express worship for Who He Is.
C = Contrition
Ask God to shine His light in your heart to reveal any actions or attitudes
that might be harmful. Have honest conversation with Him.
T = Thanksgiving
Write down three good gifts in your life,
and thank God for them out loud.
S = Supplication
List people you care about, and problems that you face today.
Ask God for specific help.
Linger and listen and look to the Word of God for direction, courage, and
comfort. Write down a takeaway from your time such as a Bible verse, a
keyword, or an important thought to remember

Whispers from the Grand Canyon

Ch. 2 of Amber O’Brien’s book
Love.Always.Wins.

~~Sometimes love is too large for words~~

I took refuge in the bathroom of the hotel room, laboring with my pen and paper, and tried to give birth to a poem. My family played National Park Monopoly outside my makeshift office as I sought to describe, in written words, one of the most amazing, natural wonders of the world. The overwhelmingly gigantic gulf, composed of pastel layers of crumbling stone, contrasted against a desert blue sky. It spoke to me of God’s beauty, power, and timelessness.

Though hours had passed since my first encounter, I remained captivated by recalling the vastness of this immense abyss —so huge that the human eye can only take in twenty percent at a time. The ranger had explained earlier at the park that even a camera from an airplane could not take a photo of the entire range, but a satellite from the heavens is needed.

My oldest daughter, age 12, said over dinner, “The Grand Canyon makes me feel like an ant.” When I asked my younger two children why they thought God created the Grand Canyon, my son declared, “Because He loves us,” and his sister Katie chimed in, “To show us how Big He is… and how Old!”

Early the next morning we hit the trails again. But, in contrast to the feast of spiritual revelation and gratitude that I felt for the experience of the Grand Canyon National Park, my children grumbled. “My foot is stuck in the mud,” one complained as they walked the trails. “I’m too hot,” said another, just as the youngest bemoaned, “I’m too tired!” I noticed them looking downward at their aching feet while all around them the God of the universe whispered a Love Song.

Whispers from the Grand Canyon

She beckons the weary eyes of the world,

Canyon after canyon of crumbling curls,

Layers of sand, suntanned and hand-swirled,

Bronzed desert beauty queen among girls.

Come sweet mysterious beauty sublime,

Whisper of ancient secrets now buried,

Who poured out each towering layer of time?

Can a bridge to cover this gap be carried?

Love older than the stones that crumble,

Love tender bridged the immense abyss,

Love beyond measure became humble,

Sealed with a Kiss,

Bliss, sweet bliss, filled the abyss,

Sealed with a kiss, bliss, sweet bliss.

She draws suitors with wild desert flowers,

Crashing lightning echoes down from the sky,

An hourglass poured from Love and power,

A canyon too grand for the human eye.

Love older than the stones that crumble,

Love tender bridged the immense abyss,

Love beyond measure became humble,

Sealed with a Kiss,

Sweet Jesus bridged the immense abyss,

Sealed with a kiss, bliss, sweet bliss.

* * *

In a famous interview of actor, Katharine Hepburn, by Barbara Walters, Katharine states that she is “like a tree.”

Barbara follows up with, “What type of tree would you be?”

Katharine responds, “Well I think most people would like to be an oak tree, as it is strong and pretty.”

Well, personally, I would like to be as a weeping Willow tree, whose deep roots reach down below the surface, to drink from the streams of living water.

The Weeping Willow Tree

A delicate cascade of greenery flows in the wind.

Translucent and serene, the willowy veil provides shade and refuge.

Tenderly she weeps and allows each tear to freely flow.

A strong, thick trunk supports the lush drapery.

Stable and strong, the root foundations of the willow reach deep in the ground.

No squall or tempest will uproot her,

Though the relentless winds often rage and blast.

Oh, may I be as the weeping willow tree.

May my tears flow as freely

When the defenseless innocents play around my trunk.

May my supple branches act as a shield

To the aged man who has come to drink from my shade.

May my thick trunk teach the widowed woman

As she hears the joyful rush of my leaves whisper,

“Don’t give up, stand as firm and free, as I.”

* * *

Discussion questions for those that want to delve deeper:

  1. Where is your favorite nature place to go to relax and refresh? The forest? By the seashore? Or a nearby pond or lake?
  • What does this natural place reveal to you about your Creator?
  • What do you think God is speaking to you when you linger, listen, and soak up the beauty all around you?
  • What did the author perceive about her Creator when she stood in awe at the edge of the Grand Canyon? What does the canyon symbolize? What does the bridge symbolize?
  • Look up Psalm 19:1-4. List what the psalmist views in nature that causes him to want to give glory to God.
  • When have you been like one of the three children who complained and bickered as the God of the universe surrounded them so powerfully?
  • Look up Romans 1:20-23. Why are we without an excuse ?

Think about this: Is it easier to worship the creation, instead of our Creator?

Love . Always. Wins.

* * *

Time for Dessert

Read Psalm 103.

Underline the word “love” as you read this awesome psalm of praise.

Stop Panicking, Keep Stirring

Ch. 1 from Amber O’Brien’s Book, Love. Always. Wins.

~~Sometimes love knows exactly what we need~~

The pulsing, whirling sounds of helicopter propellers vibrated above my head while my panicked legs pumped in the chilly preseason Atlantic Ocean and my shivering arms held onto my capsized

elliptical paddle board.

Burrrroooom, ticka-ticka-ticka! Burrrooom, burrrooom, ticka-ticka-ticka!

“Lord, I don’t need a helicopter,” I screeched into the wind. “Just send me a motorboat. I don’t need a helicopter.”

The bright red Coast Guard rescue vehicle circled overhead, and I waved back at the pilot.

The loud motor and choppy propeller, ticka-ticka-ticka, sound WAS NOT music to my ears because of my dread of having to awkwardly climb aboard a hanging ladder —especially in front of a crowd of people. Weariness zapped almost all my strength and I couldn’t imagine holding on, so I continued to plead against the helicopter.

Glancing at the shore, I noticed numerous rescue vehicles, including an ambulance, a police car, and even a fire truck. A crowd of people gathered about them, and I knew they had the same thought that I did: What in the world is that crazy woman doing out there in the ocean by herself?

Just an hour before, I had arrived at the beach with my husband and oldest daughter before the lifeguards took their posts. For a special birthday present, Dave had bought me a new toy—a novel paddleboard with handlebars for state-of-the-art steering and stair-stepper like pedals for advanced control. What we didn’t know at the time was that, in our excitement, we had tightened an important screw and dismantled the steering mechanism. (Ok. I know what you are thinking. Duh!)

I remember suggesting that we try out this new watercraft on the quieter bay nearby first (I should have gone with my gut), but when we both peered at the ocean earlier that morning, it appeared to be unusually calm and inviting.

Excited to try out the new gift, Dave pushed me towards the horizon on my virgin voyage, out past the breaking waves. I stood upright and vertical, pedaling the board forward –straight out into the vast sea. After several yards, I squeezed the right handle and expected to veer right.

Nothing happened.

Instructions in the box had warned that I would need to pedal faster for the steering to engage and so I pumped my legs even faster, and squeezed the handle with all my might trying to turn so I would not continue to be going straight out to sea.

My husband yelled from the shore, “Turn! Turn!” but I moved out further away from him and my daughter on the shore.

“I AM! I AM TRYING To TURN! ” I bellowed back.

At this point, I panicked, my adrenaline increased, and my muscles tensed up. I kept thinking “What am I doing wrong?”(Remember that I didn’t know that the steering didn’t work) Thus, in my frantic panic to correct what I thought was my mistake, I moved forward faster and faster. Before I knew it, I found myself one-fourth of a mile into the deep waters of the ocean. By leaning my body weight all the way to the right, my direction turned 90 degrees so that I now became parallel with the shore. This was better than going straight out to sea, but I needed to turn 90 degrees more so I could ride back to the shore.

The current and the wind worked against me as I kept compressing the handlebars. It took all of my effort and energy just to stay upright. For ten beach blocks, my tiny board and I managed to travel parallel to the beach as my husband and my daughter, Mary, dashed along the sand as fast as they could, trying to keep up.

My heart quickened. Anxiety so overwhelmed me that instead of stopping to regroup, I scampered faster like a nervous, squeaking gerbil on a metal running wheel. Over and over, I squeezed the handlebars with all my might, “Help! Lord Jesus! Help me! Help Me!” I squealed out desperately as I pedaled on without considering a new plan.

In one final desperate attempt, I leaned my body all the way over toward the shore and then I heard a giant splash (KER-SPLOOSH!), as the board turned sideways, and flung me into the cold, dark ocean. Shocked that I was now capsized and in the freezing water, I wrapped my arms around the bobbing, overturned board, saltwater wading into my mouth, nostrils, and eyes. (I was tied with a rope around my wrist to the board so that I had no choice but to stay put).

After a minute, I kicked furiously with my feet to see if I could move myself forward and toward the shore. However, the wind was against me and the overturned board had a long handlebar underneath that was causing a drag.

Can they see me? I wondered. I worried not just for myself, but also for my husband and daughter back on the beach. I shivered, and my legs felt numb… “ Oh, I hope they are getting help,” I pleaded. The exhaustion from traveling a panicked half-mile caused my heart to continue to race as fast as my legs were trying to kick toward the shore.

That is when I heard welcome music to my ears: Sirens. Loud, echoing sirens that called out to all the volunteers on Seven Mile Island. I knew help would be arriving soon, and while I was a little embarrassed to have caused such a hullabaloo, I felt relieved that help was on the way.

Maybe a motorboat might come to my rescue, I thought.

I waited in the water and held on tight and hoped they would hurry. Finally I started to calm down enough to stop my frantic pleadings and so I could begin to finally listen.

First, my new found ears heard the burrrooom ticka-ticka-ticka, burrrrooom, and looked up to see the alarming crimson helicopter carefully making a wide circle above me. Like a hovering, rumbling, rotund mosquito that was “tsk-tsk-ing” me for my panicking and capsizing, it buzzed overhead.

To my great chagrin, I then proceeded to tell the God of the Universe exactly how He should rescue me. “Not a helicopter, Lord. Just send me a motorboat. I don’t need a helicopter.”

I then heard a calm and authoritative voice deep inside me say, “I know what you need.”

I stopped kicking and surrendered to God. A peaceful hope replaced my panic as I decided to trust that God would provide a way out and that I didn’t need to give Him suggestions. Now that I had stopped struggling, I waited with calm expectancy, curious to see what would happen next.

It must have been at least ten minutes that I clutched the board while I faced the shore, attempting to spot my husband and daughter among the spectators lining the water’s edge.

To my great delight, I suddenly heard the vroom-Vroom-VROOM sound of a powerful race car engine. Like a strong and swift eagle flying over the waves, two energetic lifeguards swooped to my rescue upon a sleek and speedy jet ski. The zippy watercraft bounced upon the waves while water spouted up and behind to form a halo of spray around the lifeguards’ athletic frames. The bright sun shone behind their calm, yet compassionate, beautiful faces and once they arrived within earshot I called out to them, “Oh thank you! You are my angels!”

Greeting me, they assessed my situation, and both men lifted me up under each of my arms until I lay face down on the back paddle of the waverunner. I noticed handlebars available for a passenger to hold onto, but to my immense relief, they seemed to recognize my weariness and that I wouldn’t be able to hold on by myself for the trip back to shore. As a result, one of the kind lifeguards accompanied me on the back of the jet ski.

Soon I heard the revving up of the engine and the vroom-Vroom-VROOM as we rose up and glided over the ocean waves like a mother eagle who carries her young on her back and lifts them away from danger.

Each time we bounded over a wave, we slid, but the lifeguard recentered me and I giggled at each unexpected rescue. His warm and strong body secured me to the back paddle, and I smiled as giant splashes of salty water rained down and we raced to safety.

We soared over the finish line and landed at the edge of the shore.

Emergency responders approached while spectators clapped, smiled, and laughed. The brouhaha ended, and my husband and daughter ran up to

embrace me, along with two of the paramedics. A warm blanket wrapped my shoulders, and the cold numbness began to melt away.

You were right, God, I inwardly reflected. You knew just what I needed.

* * *

Keep Stirring

~~Sometimes love needs time to simmer~~

I almost gave up.

Maybe I didn’t follow the directions correctly. The still hard, grainy arborio rice, the main ingredient of a mushroom risotto dish, only left a stale, bitter taste when I tested it.

Ten more minutes passed after the recipe’s instructions for when it should have been done, and I was still stirring.

The goal for this unique rice would be, “Al Dente,” which means soft on the outside, but firm in the middle. (Think of Goldilocks who had to find the porridge that was, “just right.”)

My arm felt heavy as I continued to stir the mushroom risotto well past the 25 minutes promised in the recipe. The secret was to slowly add the boiling stock one ladle at a time, and to keep stirring. And stirring. And stirring.

If I left it for even a minute, then I might miss the “just right” moment.

My hungry husband entered the kitchen to check on my progress. As the

primary chef of the family, he offered me the relief I’d been hoping for, and took over my position.

In tiny amounts, he added water, gently stirred, and tasted some more. After ten more minutes of, “long-suffering,” the risotto transformed into Al Dente. The desire that I had thought might never, ever happen, finally did.

At dinner, the rice melted soft and creamy on my tongue. It seemed like rich velvety pasta that relaxed in my mouth, like when Goldilocks found just the right bed. At the same time, its tender form had retained its firmness so that it was not mushy. Each morsel, so distinct.

The flavors of mushroom and chicken stock blended together with true perfection.

Worth. The. Wait. Perhaps… some of the important matters in life might take the longest time.

What are you waiting for, sweet one, and where do you need a breakthrough?

Maybe it’s an old friend who has grown distant because of a misunderstanding. Maybe it’s a marriage that has turned cold and silent. Maybe you are experiencing sorrow because of the stony disposition of one of your children.

Oh, Dear Sweet Sister… your loved one’s heart is like the risotto rice kernel that is still in need of warmth, attention, and stirring. Keep standing, and keep adding the liquid of love and kindness. With patience, keep praying.

Ask God for the help you need to not give up. The hard shell of your loved one’s heart will eventually become soft. Remember, God yearns for unity and reconciliation, too. In fact, he loves your family and friends a trillion times more than you do.

Never leave the stove, Dear Sweet Sister, because at any moment you might gain a glimpse at the work that God is doing, —softening, restoring, and reconciling the relationship between them and God, and them and you.

Ask a trusted sister to stir with you. We sisters need each other to help in the kitchen of life.

The first ingredient in the recipe of love is patience. Additional ingredients are listed in I Corinthians 13:4-8, and include these: Love always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres…

Love. Always. Wins.

* * *

Love. Always. Wins.

Oh my sweet friend, True Love Always Wins,

Come to The Well, again and again, Fill up to the brim with all that’s true,

He came to restore, make All things New, Oh my sweet friend, True Love Always Wins.

Oh my sweet friend, True Love Never Fails, Once we sat helpless in death-rows jail, God’s red love lavished to set us free, Long-suffering turns the prison door key,

Oh my sweet friend, True Love Never Fails.

Chorus:

True love is bloody, and sometimes it hurts, True love kneels down, and then takes off His shirt,

Love washes our feet and seeks all to Save, Love always wins, for He conquered the Grave.

Oh my sweet friend, True Love Always Wins, Love covers the ugliest of sins,

Pull out by the root your bitterness, Pay forward God’s undeserved forgiveness,

Oh my sweet friend, True Love ALWAYS Wins.

* * *

Discussion questions for those that want to delve deeper:

  1. Like a panicked hamster, the author kept pedaling. Are you stressed and running frantically, perhaps on a “mental hamster wheel?” What causes your heart and thoughts to race? What do you need rescuing from, or what do you require God’s power to rise above?
  • How can you pause your panicked pedaling? Look up Psalm 46:10. Are you making time to be still and listen to God?
  • Why is the eagle considered the ‘King of the Air?’ Look up Isaiah 40:31. Are you tired and weary? What does it mean to mount up like an eagle? (An eagle can fly up to 10,000 feet above the ground and has incredible eyesight).
  • What is your favorite dish or dessert that takes a long time to prepare?
  • Read out loud I Corinthians 13: 4-8. In God’s recipe of love, what is the first ingredient? Why would this one be first on the list?
  • Read the poem, Love. Always. Wins. What is the goal of love? Why does love sometimes hurt? Why does love always win?
  • While you wait, what can you do to soften your own heart?

* * *

Time for Dessert

Reflect on all the ways that God has been patient with you.

Love softly knocks on our hearts, and never barges in.

Love waits.

The toughest thing I have ever written or presented: In honor of Steve Narup

(the son of our dear former neighbors completed suicide and I was given the honor of speaking at his celebration of life. Oh how I love Steve who is now “healed in heaven”, his mom and dad, brother and sister so much. As I wrote and painfully delivered these words my heart was feeling the great heartache of all involved. yet………

But we do not want you to be uninformed, brethren, about those who are asleep, so that you will not grieve as do the rest who have no hope. Thessalonians 4:13-14

I feel so connected to the Narup family and to Steve for our families have shared so many highs and lows together. For over 12 years the Narups lived next door to my young family in Country walk community and we literally shared a backyard. A rainbow playground set became the kids meeting place as well as the court behind our homes. My three children and Stef. Steve and Jon and the other neighborhood children built forts on that Rainbow jungle gym. They played Red Rover, kick the can, dodge ball and so many fun outside games. The hill connecting the Narup home and our OBrien home became the perfect sledding area as the children held onto each other and laughed and shouted as they raced down the hill together. They laughed and played and sometimes squabbled. Most times, they were more like siblings than neighbors. Since my children were younger and needed more supervision, I was often outside and sometimes would guide them with conflict resolution. OK so What happened ?  so What should you have done? What should you do now? You could say you’re sorry and that you’ll never do that again….ok now its your turn ….you can Say I forgive you and both of you hug or shake hands ….now go on and play and  never bring up what happened again.  The children would say they were sorry and forgive so quickly and completely and then proceed to play together as if the offence never happened……you know I think that might be one of the reasons why it says in the Bible that we must be like little children to enter the Kingdom of God.

Steve had such a kind heart and definitely took on a big brother role with the younger children. During my children’s birthday parties, sometimes he would help led a game station, I watched as Steve patiently helped and encouraged the younger children and then proudly give then a prize. Later, I watched that same kind and gentle heart grow even larger as he so enjoyed being a dad to his daughter Madison.  He was the middle child who so adored His older beautiful and vivacious sister Stef and so cherished his younger brother Jon who is so bright and creative.   He was so loved and cared for by his mom and dad who faithfully supported him as he grew and gained confidence socially and in his career. I could tell Steve was both an observer and a deep thinker. Three years ago he sent me one of the kindest birthday messages I have ever received. In it,  he thanked me for my role in his life and his family and then he told me to “stay on the path”.  I am still so touched every time I think about it:  for he reached out to me with gratitude and encouraged me to stay on the narrow path…even though he himself was struggling and searching for his own path.

On Easter Day, he used up some of his last bit of energy to get to church and say He was sorry for his sins and receive the cleansing forgiveness of the sacrament of baptism. He publicly chose to be a follower of Jesus Christ who is the Way, the truth and the Life. He chose the path that leads to everlasting life.

I was recently reminded of the story of the two men who were crucified on either side of Jesus.

One of the men was an observer and a deep thinker and recognized Who Jesus was and despite being in great pain turned to Jesus. He said, “remember me when you come into your kingdom.”

And Jesus replied, “I assure you, today you will be with me in Paradise.”

So this late convert who made the good choice…who chose to turn to Jesus while suffering, still physically died that bittersweet day.

He was not immediately rescued, and angels didn’t come to remove him from the cross that he bore.

But we know from God’s word that the man was spiritually reborn the moment that he turned to Jesus. He was completely forgiven, his wounds are now healed in heaven and he is suffering no longer.

And we trust that Steve is completely forgiven, Steve’s wounds are Healed in heaven and Steve is suffering no longer.

For God so loved Steve that He gave His only begotten Son Jesus, that if Steve believes in Him, He should Not perish but have everlasting life. 

(for those of you who are hurting now with a broken heart and feeling left behind and perhaps angry or  confused by it all ….. I believe Steve would say to you, “I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. Will you please forgive me? “

And for those of you who, like me, feel a heavy weight of guilt and wish that you had done more for Steve or tried harder or perhaps you left some words unsaid, I believe Steve would say to you and me , “I forgive you, I always knew that you loved me. I love you and I am praying for you. I am praying that you will use every bit of energy that you have to find the path. For only God’s love can heal a broken heart.

And for those that have already found the One who is the Way and the truth and the Life …I believe Steve is now praying and patiently encouraging us as he echos out what all the angels and saints around God’s throne are saying as they are cheering us on:  keep going forward, look upward   ….. .and  Stay on the path!!!!!! )

               

In the Midst of Storms, Rainbows are Born

I, the LORD your God, will hold thy right hand, and say to you, “Don’t be afraid, I will help You”.  Isaiah 41:13

Dear Sweet Sister,

I sat with my morning coffee and my bible in hand when I received the text, “please pray for my ______(family member) ….and then she wrote,

“When it rains it pours!”.

This sweet sister has had many tough challenges recently and now she had another family member who needed help.

I wrote her back the first verse of the poem below that I had written years ago:

In the midst of storms rainbows are born, His Love shines through our tears, In the midst of storms rainbows are born, He is here, He is here. 

I wrote this poem after my husband remarked that for a rainbow to appear, rain needs to still be in the air as the sun shines through the droplets.

Before this revelation, I had always stated the often quoted “After the rain, the rainbow”. But this quote isn’t accurate is it?  physically or spiritually? The rain is needed to create the rainbow.

My sweet sister texted me back , “Rain always brings beautiful flowers”.

“Yes!”I replied “and God the gardener prunes those that He loves…So that we become stronger and bear more fruit”.

The idea that God is in the midst of our pain holding our hands brings such peace to me.

A rainbow speaks of God’s promise to provide dry land and a second chance once the storm subsides.

I hope the poem below gives you hope and peace. He is making something beautiful out of this dark stormy time.  He is with you during the storm…for in the midst of storms, rainbows are born.

Oh Give My Husband a Brand New Wife

My friend’s sobs echoed over the phone as she shared that her husband didn’t value the “new her,” but instead wanted to keep her back from growing into the vivacious woman I knew her to be. How sad that he couldn’t value growth and put in the effort and grow to love the “new Kelly.”  I sat down and wrote this poem after our phone conversation.

A Brand New Marriage

Oh give my husband a brand new wife
One that will serve him lovingly
Give him the helpmate he deserves
And may that “new wife” always be me

Oh give my husband a hot mistress
One that will surprise him lovingly
Give her energy and fresh ideas
And may that “mistress” always be me

Oh give my husband a new best friend
One that will listen lovingly
Give her wisdom to find the good
And may that “best friend” always be me   

So how does one protect one’s marriage as we grow individually and through the seasons of Life?

Here are some tidbits of advice that my husband and I have gleamed through the years.

IMG_8034
Happy 27th Wedding Anniversary to my husband!

Keep dating.
Our priest from Gettysburg College, Father Phil gave us the advice to “keep dating” when he met with us before our marriage. With each season of our marriage, life has changed, and so have our dates. A neighbor babysitter coming over for two hours a week so Dave and I could go out when our children were small, intimate lunches when we started our business, family members who watched the children so we could take a long weekend. Be creative, be proactive, and just do it.

“The best thing you can do for your children is to have a good marriage.”
This was the advice we received when we went to a day-long marriage encounter. This quote helped take away all my guilt about leaving my children to “date” their father or travel with him.  The children will grow up and share their own relationships and putting our spouse first is a way to model for them what a thriving marriage looks like.

“A successful marriage is the union of two forgivers.”
– Ruth Graham Bell.
Yes, your partner is not perfect. Yes, they are irritating at times. Yes, they keep hurting you.
This is what Love is about. Forgiving and seeing the overall good in your spouse. May they see the overall good in us. For we are imperfect people, who make mistakes and we can be so irritating to others. Love is a covering. Love does not “keep a record of wrongs,” so when you are angry or hurt or lonely, write down 10 good things about your husband and see if your perspective changes. Keep a record of Rights. What is right about your hubby.

This weekend seek out a way to date your spouse. What are some creative ways that you like to spend with your spouse? Please share them in the comments below.