What doesn't kill me makes me stronger

I just read my sister’s blog and find myself wanting to respond to some of the things she said. 

She was talking specifically about what to do and say to friends and loved ones when they are experiencing a loss.  As someone who has suffered a lot of pain in my lifetime and yet managed to come through on the other side and better for it.  I feel that perhaps I have the ability to say what one can and should do when others are hurting. 

Mindy mentioned the old Biblical phrase, “this too shall pass” and it is a good one, but it isn’t the phrase that has brought be through the fires in my life. 

From the Bible, my phrase, since I was a child was “I can do all things through Christ which strengthens me”.  That is what I use to face things on my own in my own life. 

But, there are two phrases that have also helped me.  The first one is a more recent discovery, based on a song that I enjoy.  “What doesn’t kill me makes me stronger”.  Well, it’s true.  If you walk through the fires of life and come out on the other side, you have deeper calluses on your feet.  The deeper the callus, the better you will be able to walk through the next fire. 

The other one, is a phrase my husband taught me, and to be perfectly honest the first time he said these words to me, I was skeptical.  When I was down and out and felt like my professional life had come to a certain end, he said to me “everything happens for a reason”. 

Okay sweetheart then spell it out for me please, because I could see no reason that I was having to go through what I was going through. 

What was the reason that I spent hours at my mother-in-laws side watching her slowly die?

What was the reason that a month later I lost a very dear friend to cancer?

What was the reason that in just a few short months after that I lost a $50 k a year job? 

Well, some of the answers were obvious, some not so much.  My mother-in-law passed from this world in my home with me by her side.  The reason it happened this way was so that she could rest in peace and leave this world knowing she was loved. 

My friend fought a hard, hard battle, and it wasn’t getting any better, was never going to get any better, so allowing her to leave me was the best thing I could do for her. 

Losing my job?  Well that one was a bit tougher because it left Rich and I in a terrible financial position, and threw me into a genuine depression that I didn’t think I would ever come out of.  I cried daily, literally for months.  I was self-condemning and considered myself a worthless human being.  I tried to hide it from everyone but Rich.  He knew my heartbreak and tolerated it better than any man should ever have to. 

So reason number one, I could say was so that I could see just what a great person I had married, a man who was caring, understanding, supportive, and more than anything patient.

 

Then comes the next lesson.  What was the reason that I took a job at Wal-Mart, worked there for 13 months then walked out to go work for someone whom I considered at the time to be my best friend, only to have that job end in less than a month? 

Another tough one to explain, but in the end, yes there was a reason for all of it. 

First, working at Wal-Mart was good for me because I had to become friendlier and more outgoing in order to do the job I was doing.  I had to smile and speak to people I didn’t know.  I had to carry on conversations and deal with difficult people on occasion. 

These were things I had never been good at.  I am not the "people person" that my sister is.  I was always happy about the lack of human interaction I had at my Community Action job, but at Wal-Mart I had no shield, no door I could close and be alone in my work. 

So, that experience happened so that I could become a more personable person. 

Why did I have to go through loosing not only my best friend but also my next job? 

That one took a while to figure out. 

First of all.  I think I had used poor judgment in choosing my friend, and I needed to see her for the person she really was.  Spending 30 days with her as my boss ripped off the blinders and I was able to see that she was not the kind of person who should be my friend. 

There was a lot going on there that doesn’t need to be drug out into the open, but I’ll just say she was a wolf in sheep’s clothing, pretending to be a good Christian woman, when in fact some of the things going on in her personal life were so horrible they came close to being criminal, seriously. 

But I also had to lose that job so that the door would be open to another opportunity. 

It was just a few month after that, as I sat at home unemployed, that I came across an ad for a stringer for Lincoln Daily News.  For those who may not know, stringers are like free-lance reporters in that the work is sparse and paid per published unit.  They are different from free-lancers in that the stringer is obligated to just one publication. 

I responded to the ad and by November of that year I was working for LDN as a stringer with an estimated monthly income of $75.00, yes $75.00 a month. 

At first I felt guilty about taking the job because it wasn’t really enough money to make a significant difference in our financial situation, but as Rich and I talked about it, we agreed it was better than nothing, which was what I had prior to the job. 

When I interviewed for the stringer position, I was told that the highest paid stringer in the history of LDN earned $3000 in a year.  Well, truth be told, I blew that record out of the water in just a few months. 

The stringer turned into the ‘city desk’ reporter and I was guaranteed $200 a month after working for LDN for only 30 days. 

I moved on to being an at-large reporter, and started doing special features like the personalities of the week. 

Everything happens for a reason?  Well here comes the big one.  Doing face to face interviews with strangers is something I don’t know that I would have been capable of doing, had it not been for the 13 months I spent at Wal-Mart.  Ha!  What a deal, Rich was right, lesson learned. 

As time progressed, it was discovered that I had some fairly decent photography skills.  That led to covering events.  The big one came the next summer when I was offered a whopping $300 to cover the livestock barns and 4-H shows at the Logan County Fair. 

As time passed, the job grew and grew.  Then I was offered the opportunity to work 3 hours a day in the office posting classified ads.  From there, the bosses learned I had bookkeeping skills and I started doing the billings and my hours increased. 

Over time, and it didn’t happen overnight, it took a couple of years, I had worked my stringer position into something very close to a full time job. 

I earned the respect of my employers and when the paper experienced a serious shake up in 2012, I was standing in just the right place to benefit from it. 

I was offered and accepted the position of News Director, and job became a fulltime career with a nice annual salary. 

Now here is the kicker to this part of the story.  When I was a child, writing and creating stories was my passion.  In high school, it was the career I wanted, but it just didn’t happen. Life took me on another journey instead, but one that once again “happened for a reason”. 

Had I achieved the goal early in life, what would I have missed?  Too much to recount, but most importantly I would have missed the opportunity to live my life with a husband who loves and understands me, and believes that everything happens for a reason. 

But the story doesn’t end there.  What doesn’t kill me makes me stronger.   

Taking on the new position with LDN had its challenges.  I was immediately thrown into working with the editor in chief whom up to this point I had not been exposed to all that much.  The managing editor who was now gone had always kept himself between me and Jan, so we really didn’t know each other, or understand each other. 

We went through some pretty tough times, and I had days I wanted to just throw up my hands and walk out, and I’m sure she had days when she wished I would. 

But, for once in my life, I resisted the temptation to move on, maybe because over the years, I had learned to be stronger than my impulses, to stick it out and fight if you will to achieve what I want to achieve. 

I look back now and realize I really didn’t fight for my job at community action.  Hind sight is 20-20 and I’m glad now that I didn’t, but still I see that was my weakness, not standing up for what I wanted and needed. 

With Jan, I did fight for my position, sometimes literally as we had several disagreements in those first few weeks of really getting to know each other.  But I’ll fast forward just a little to say that now, 2 years into it, we are an unbeatable team on LDN and we work together so well that we even have simultaneous thoughts and can read each other’s minds sometimes. 

Within a few weeks of all these big changes Jim and Jan suffered a gigantic loss.  Their son-in-law whom they loved dearly died suddenly from an aneurism in the heart. They were devastated and to a certain extent paralyzed by it all. 

I couldn’t begin to know what they were feeling, but I could understand the devastating pain, the desperation to be there for their daughter, and the reason why that the paper had to take a backseat for them.   

What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. 

I had suffered losses, too many of them.  My grandparents, my dad, my mother-in-law, a sister-in-law, a brother-in-law, aunts, uncles, and dear friends, I understood loss all too well. 

I also understood that there was nothing I could say that would make it better for them, but there was something I could do.  I could run the paper, take charge, and I could shield them from the worries of that part of their life.  I did that. 

Chris was a much loved, well thought of young man.  The night Rich and I went to the visitation, we truly stood in line over 3 hours just waiting to get to the casket.  It was hard for Rich and I both because of the losses we had suffered, but we felt the need to be there regardless and “I can do all things through Christ which strengthens me”. 

Like so many others, I wondered what I would say when I got to the receiving line, what could possibly come out of my mouth that would be meaningful to them.  But when our time finally arrived, it wasn’t what I said that mattered.  It was what they said. 

It was first Jim, and as Rich and I came face to face with him, he gave me a hug, but he spoke to Rich.  He said to him, “Thank-you for letting us have so much of your wife.  Thank-you for letting her be a part of us right now.” 

Jan and I hugged, and she said to me, “I trust you explicitly, and we couldn’t be doing this right now without you.”  All I could say was, “I’m doing the best I can, so you won’t have to worry.”  And she said “I’m not worried, not at all, and I wouldn’t be able to say that if you weren’t here.” 

So in the end, it was nothing that I said that made their life better or easier, but it was what I did. 

When people suffer losses, words are not always the important part of the equation.  Another old saying, “actions speak louder than words” comes to mind.  What you say doesn’t matter as much as what you do. 

So back to my sister, and her friend who thought she had found a new love and a new purpose in life only to have it taken away.  What can you say?  Not much.  For this friend, yes, going through this will eventually make her a stronger better person, but it could take a while.  And yes, this all did happen for a reason, but it may take years for that reason to be realized. 

It may come someday down the road, when her son experiences heartbreak and she can truly understand what he is feeling because she has felt it too.  It may make her a stronger, better mother.   

This may have also happened so she could eventually find the right person, the one who is good for her and good to her.  She may have had to experience something bad in order to make her recognize something good when it comes along. 

But for my sister right now, what can she do?  First she can listen, just listen.  For the most part, people who are going through a tough time do want to talk about it.  They want to get the words out into the open air.  It is a relief for them like suddenly exhaling after having held your breath for a long period of time. 

But, they are also afraid to, because they don’t necessarily want other’s opinions or even their sympathy, they just want to talk. 

And then there are the actions.  Send an email, mail a card, buy a balloon, do something that will brighten her day.  The words don’t matter.  Something as simple as “I care about you’, “I’m here if you need me”, or “You’ll always be special to me” are enough to let her know she isn’t alone even though she feels like she is. 

For the friend who lost a loved one, sometimes saying I’m sorry for your loss is all you have, and that is okay because what you’re really saying is “you matter to me or I wouldn’t be here”.  But again, I look at what can I do to show this person I love them and am hurting for them. 

I hate platitudes.  People will come up to you and say, “I know just what you’re going through”.  Well no, you really don’t because you are not inside my skin.  Or it will be “if there is anything I can do call me”.  Really?  Call you?  I’m having a hard time getting through the day on cruise control.  What makes you think I can think well enough to come up with something you can do? 

I started doing this years ago, and have made it a part of my life.  When someone I know loses a loved one, I call them and ask them if they need any laundry done.  Sounds silly right?  But the thinking is what can I offer to do, what am I capable of doing for them right now that could help them out? 

For me, I’m more than capable of doing laundry.  For someone else it could be does your car need gas?  Does it need washed?  Is anyone helping you in the kitchen, can I come do that for you?  Do you have people coming in on the plane or train, can I go pick them up for you?  Do you have enough beds, someone could sleep at my house.  Or it could be something as simple as go to store and buy a load of paper plates, cups, silverware, and napkins so no one has to wash dishes. 

Not that you should want to do it for this reason, but none-the-less, when it is all said and done, the person who did the laundry or washed the car will be remembered for their act of kindness much longer than the person who said “I know just what you’re going through” and more pleasantly as well. 

I can attest to this personally through my mom.  When my dad died, we didn’t want a dinner at the church.  Instead we had everyone come to our house before the funeral.  There was a mob of people there.  We ate lunch then went to the funeral and the graveside service. 

When we came home, two of my cousins were there washing the dishes and cleaning up the mess from the dinner.  My mom to this day though it has been decades, remembers that before she remembers anything else.  Their actions spoke louder than words, and their deeds spoke volumes to her about how they cared. 

So in the end, what is the moral to this long and laborious story?   

Well I guess it would have to be, I can do all things through Christ which strengthens me because what doesn’t kill me makes me stronger and it all happens for a reason.

Do you know where your hydrant is?? Public Safety Announcement

Recently the local water company issued a warning to the residents of the city of Lincoln regarding their fire hydrants. While that warning was specific to that town, it applies to anyone who is currently suffering through the huge piles of snow that are the aftermath of the BEAST.


The water company warned that when streets were plowed, large accumulations of snow where thrown to the curbs, and in some cases covered up or at least obstructed access to fire hydrants.


They recommended that residents go out and locate their fire hydrant and shovel the snow away from it so that it is easily accessible if needed.


This week there was a house fire in Lincoln, the home was a total loss. In talking to the fire chief, a new dilemma was discovered. Firefighters had to deal with sheets of ice as they sprayed water on the fire. The spray runoff that hit the ground; between temperatures being in the single digits, a one foot accumulation of snow, and THE INABILITY TO LOCATE THE STORM DRAINS formed an icy surface around the home. The work of the firefighters was greatly hindered, and became even more dangerous for them.


So, regardless of where you live, if you are currently burdened with snow, take a look around, find your hydrant, make sure it is accessible, and if you know where your storm drains are, see if you can do something to clear those out as well.

The Christmas Clown

At the beginning of 2010 I was truly blessed to be offered the opportunity to work a few hours a day in the offices at Lincoln Daily News.


Since 2008 I have been with the paper as a “Stringer” or freelance reporter.

The job started out with a conversation with the Editor Mike Fak who told me at best I would get one or two assignments a month, but in the end it ended up being so much more.

At that first meeting he told me that he too had started out as a stringer for the paper, and that the most any stringer had every made was $3,000 in a year and that was him.

However, in 2009, Nila became the new record holder when my income from writing along came in over 4 times that amount! Happy me!

Then when the offer came in 2010 to join the office staff for a few hours a day, I knew that the Smith household which has suffered severely since I left Community Action was well on its way to recovery.

My income is not even a fraction of what it was back then, but with my pay and Rich’s combined it is enough, and isn’t that the best we can all ask for to have “just enough”? I think so.

The real blessing though has been the camaraderie of the people that I spend my mornings with 5 days a week and then some.

I can say with no uncertainty that the group I am now happily a part of is the sweetest, most caring, most dedicated to their work and their co-workers group I have ever had the privilege of knowing.

So it will surely come as no surprise that we all enjoy an occasional work-day get together. We started these little lunch time fellowships last fall, and they have come to be a very important part of who we are.

The get together involve a potluck lunch where we set up big tables in the front end of the CCA side of the building, and all the staff from CCA and LDN sit down to an hour to hour and a half of good food and fellowship.

At Christmas time this year, we scheduled one of our potlucks, and with everyone on staff being on tight budgets in this horrid economy, it was decided that we would have a “White Elephant Gift Exchange”.

I have never partaken in one of these, so I had to do my research asking my co-worker and often partner in crime Karen to explain the whole thing to me.

The jest of it is, don’t buy anything. Look around your house for something that you don’t necessarily want or need, wrap it up and put it under the tree.

There are also twists involved, in that the gift doesn’t necessarily have to be something you think someone else will want. In fact it is actually more fun if you can come up with something that you don’t think anyone will want.

I knew that I had tons of stuff left over from my desperate days of selling junk on eBay, so I had no concerns about coming up with the perfect package for this fun little game.

I’ll remember that day always because before we sat down to an unbelievable buffet, my boss Jim offered up a prayer. I nearly teared up (just as I am at this moment) when he spoke to God saying that the day was not about the food or the fun, but about the love we all feel for one another, and the joy we find in being together.

After devouring a huge lunch, it finally came time to pick our gifts from under the tree.

Everything was nicely wrapped but no one had tagged their items as to who had brought them. We drew numbers to decide the order of picking a present. Karen was number one. She had no choice but to take a present from under the tree. However, from then on out, when ones number came up he or she had the option of choosing something from under the tree or taking a gift from someone who had already opened one.

To make it fair then for the first picker, Karen at the end had the opportunity to go around and take any gift she wanted and give her gift to the person from whom she stole one.

I won’t pretend to remember the order of everyone. I know Karen was first, Tim was 3rd I was 4th, Mike was 8th, and beyond that I’m kind of lost.

When Karen got her gift it was a gingerbread house shaped candle, Tim drew a bag with a cocoa mug and cocoa and coffee in it, and I got an onion.

I was not all that unhappy about getting an onion. It was a nice big sweet Vidalia and I knew that Rich and I would enjoy it on a burger, so I was fine with that, something Jim found very humorous, as throughout the even I kept my onion hid, hoping no one would remember I had it and want to take it away from me.

Other gifts that I remember, Mary got a Superman Coloring book, Jan got a bag with a box of crayons and a journal in it, and Brian got one of those glass subway blocks stuffed with lights.

Jim got a long hand knitted contraption that looked like a scarf with pockets on the ends; those I have seen before and kind of think they are neat.

However, when he put this one around his neck the pockets were way too far down there. Finally the person who brought the gift had to explain that it was a book holder. The scarf part goes between the box springs and mattress of a bed and the pockets hang out the sides and hold books, TV remotes or whatever else someone might choose to put in there.

When it came Mikes turn to choose a gift, he took Tim’s coffee and cocoa, Tim then took my onion! I was severely disappointed!

Anyway, I then had to choose a gift, so I took a Snowman shaped fondue set away from Lisa, which Lisa had already taken from someone else (the rule is taken twice, it’s out of circulation) so I knew I was set, no one could take it from me HAHAHA!!!

Throughout the exchange, we were all having great fun. Brian wasn’t really pleased with his glass cube and kept trying to give it away, but he had no takers, Mary was looking forward to coloring Superman, but wanted Jan’s Crayons. The Fondue pot, some thought was strange and others coveted it and resented that it was out of circulation.

And poor Lisa, every time she’d latch on to something, someone would take it from her, so in the end there was one gift left under the tree and only Lisa to open it.

It had been such a fun day, and we were all looking forward to seeing what the poor girl had gotten saddled with, but the look on her face when she peered into that bag was almost enough to make me cry.

He gift, the one she was stuck with was a cast iron clown mechanical bank. The clown has crazy eyes, a big mouth and a mechanism that makes him swallow coins.

As se pulled it out of the bag the hoots of laughter were absolutely deafening. Everyone hated the clown, but Lisa was more than concerned about what she was going to do with it.

Of course it was ugly, a gift no one could love, but in addition to that it was creeping her out, and she said that her 22 year old son would lose his mind if she took the thing home.

I felt bad for her, she was trapped, so as the fun and games came to an end, I did what I thought any friend should do. I took her the Fondue pot and said that I would take the clown.

She protested only mildly before taking the pot back. As we all sat around laughing at the fun we had had, I had a thought, the best way to end the day….maybe.

I carefully put the clown back in its gift bag along with the tissue paper and decoration it had come with, and then, I held the bag way up over my head and yelled “Look Guys!! I’m ready for next year!!!”

With the echoes of all the hoots and hollers of “take a picture of that bag” Don’t forget what that one looks like” and much more, I drove home that day happy and content with my decision and my clown.

A few weeks later, Rich and I had the good fortune to have two of our granddaughters for the News Year’s Eve weekend.

Chelsie who is only 5 has always loved playing with a big bottle of pennies I have, and she never forgets I have them or where they are. So, when she got the bottle out, I went out on a limb and asked her if she was afraid of clowns. “NO!” she yelled. So I went to a cabinet and pulled out the mechanical bank. She played with it for hours, carefully feeding the clown his supper of pennies.

The next day after the party though, when I got to the office Karen had to ask, “What did Richard think of the clown, what did he say?”

Well, I really couldn’t tell her what he said because had I done so, my biggest secret would have been out of the bag because when I brought the clown home he looked in the bag and then asked me about the clown.

I told him the whole story, and he said “Well, I think he’s kind of cute”. Of course that is the exact same thing he said the day before when I was wrapping it up and carefully placing it in a gift bag to place under the tree for my first ever White Elephant gift exchange!

And, now you all know the rest of the story. In my mind, I choose to believe that I was the biggest winner of all in that little game. I made a difference for a friend, and I had the only TRUE WHITE ELEPHANT in the whole bunch!

Just Because I like it

I got called out this morning to cover a Haz Mat situation on Lincoln Parkway.  No real biggie, a semi tank of flammable liquid went off the road, and was sinking in the mud that has resulted from heavy rains the last couple days.

No fuel was spilled, no one was hurt in the one vehcile mishap.  I went out, did my usual observations of the situation, got it in my mind what facts I could presnt, and snapped a few pictures that acutally applied to the situation at hand.

Then, I lingered.  Always and forever I look for that one perfect shot, the one that is exceptional, and today I got it!!!  These are two members of the Lincoln City Fire Department.

I am cheating just a bit, because I also sent this pic to my editor telling him I was sending it "just because I like it".  He emailed me back and said "I don't like it..........I LOVE IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!"  Look for it to be one of our top pics in tomorrows paper!  But now YOU get a sneak peak!

Have a great day!
N

A Special day for Memorial -- Heaven's Tiniest Angel

Memorial lay on her tummy peering of the edge of a fluffy white cloud.

In her hand she held a small pouch of gold dust swept up from Heaven's floor.

As she dipped her tiny fingers into the pouch and released the dust in the morning breeze, she giggled in delight as it landed on the dew kissed petals of the rose below.

She lay on her tummy, kicking her feet about her back, watching as the little girl in the garden below ran from flower to flower. Memorial clapped her hands in delight when the gold dusted rose caught the eye of the child.

As the little girls skipped toward the rose, she exclaimed "Grandma, we need this one! It's the prettiest rose in the garden?"

"Memorial;" the voice of Gabriel spoke behind her; "what are you doing here?"

As she stuffed the pouch of gold under tummy she looked back on the senior angel and with wide innocent eyes, she replied; "I'm just watching".

"And what are you watching?"

The little girl below is helping her grandma pick roses from their garden. I'm helping her. Oops, I mean I'm watching her."

"What are you hiding Memorial? I saw you tuck a pouch under your tummy, what is in it."

"Just some old dust I picked up off the ground."

"Just some old dust; you mean just some old gold dust don't you?'

Memorial ducked her head, and her tiny halo went tumbling forward, and landed on the soft pillows of a nearby cloud. "Yes sir", she whispered.

"Uh hum, well, you know, you've been warned about this. Now fetch your halo and come with me."

Memorial rolled over the edge of her perch, and landed in a soft plop' on the cloud that now held her halo. With tiny fingers, she picked up the halo and did her best to right it into its proper place.

Gabriel stood near by, patiently tapping a toe on a cloud as he watch the little angel piddle and stall.

Finally she was beside him, and he reached to take her tiny hand.

Together they went through the gates of Heaven, and walked to the great throne where sat God, in all his glory.

He looked down on Memorial, and spoke in a low quiet voice. "Have you been misbehaving again Memorial?"

The tiny angel shuffled her feet and closed her eyes against the look of disappointment she knew she would see on God's face "yes sir, I have."

"And what were you doing?"

"Helping the little girl pick flowers."

God smiled only briefly at the innocence of the reply, then pressed further even though he knew the answer, "And how were you helping?"

In barely a whisper Memorial said "I was sprinkling gold dust on the prettiest one."

"If it was the prettiest one, why did it need gold dust?"

"I don't know, just because."

"Because why?"

"Because;" Memorial stomped her little foot, and sent her halo ajar. "If I didn't help her, she might not see it, and she needs the prettiest flower in the garden because she's picking it for her mommy, and if she missed it then saw it later she would be sad because she didn't see it in the first place. I didn't want the little girl to be sad, you don't want her to be sad either do you God?"

God chuckled; Heavens tiniest angel was feisty, sometimes naughty, but always well intentioned. "Well, no Memorial, I would not want the little girl to be sad, especially not today."

Memorial cocked her head to the side, and again the little halo went askew. "Why not especially today? Is it her birthday? It's not Christmas, no roses at Christmas, Mother's day was just a moment ago, so why especially not today?"

"Today is a special day, a day when everyone on earth remembers all their loved ones who have gone to Heaven. And, for today I have a special chore for you."

Memorial gasped in delight as she clasped her tiny hands together. No one had ever given her a chore, not the minor angels, not Gabriel, and especially not God.

She bounced up and down, clapping her hands; "I have a chore! Oh my! What is my chore? Is it really special? Will I like doing it? Is it important to you? Can I tell the other angels you gave me a chore? Oh!"

She looked into the eyes of God and saw that he was trying to be quite serious. She clamped her hand over her mouth, and waited for him to speak.

His eyes twinkled, but he kept a straight face at her little outburst. "Today you are going to visit with humans as they visit a special place. You chore is to help them remember the people they love who now live in Heaven."

"As far as liking your chore goes, you know that I would not give you a bad chore, but it won't always be easy. If you think it is getting hard, remember me and know that you are indeed doing something that is very important."

Memorial whispered; "yes sir, I will remember you."

At that Gabriel took her tiny hand and led her to that special place that God wanted her to go.

Memorial was a little puzzled by what she saw there. It was like a large garden, but instead of growing roses, it appeared that the garden grew stones.

The stones were a variety of shapes and sizes, and Memorial saw that each stone had writing on it. She asked Gabriel what the writing was, and why this place was special to God.

Gabriel explained that when people die, their souls go to Heaven to be with God, but their bodies are put in a special place called a cemetery.

The stones with writing on them are markers so that when loved ones want to visit the grave of their loved on, they can find it.

Memorial cocked her tiny head to one side, a puzzled look on her face, "But why? Why do they come here, when the souls are in Heaven?"

"Because, they can't come to Heaven, not yet at least. So this place is where they come to feel close to the one who has died, and to remember them in special ways. That is your job today Memorial, to help them remember."

So memorial planted herself at the gate of the strange garden and waited for someone to come who needed help.

By and by a couple came to the gate, their steps were heavy and their faces looked very sad. They carried a wreath of rose and carnation, decorated with a ribbon of red, white, and blue.

Memorial watched the pair, and knew that it was her chore to make them smile. She skipped along behind them until they knelt at a stone. No larger then a fleck of dust, she perched near the ear of the lady. She whispered gently, and the lady smiled. "Do you remember the day he enlisted?"

"I do", the man replied. "He was so happy to be going to serve his country. He felt it was his duty, his responsibility."

"He got that from you". She smiled "Always do what's right, always stand up for what you believe in. You told him that all of his life. He felt complete when he wore that uniform."

The man smiled; "Yes he did, but he got part of that from you too. Always look out for those who are weaker than you. Always show compassion to those who are not as blessed as you."

Again she smiled; "he was a fine man, a son to be proud of."

"Yes indeed" the man said.

When the couple left the special garden their steps were a bit lighter, their faces wore faint smiles of gentle remembrance. They had lost a son in battle. But his memory was renewed that day, and they felt a great sense of love and pride.

Memorial smiled wistfully, she had done a good job on her chore she knew, and wondered if the next one would come along soon.

Soon came along an old man, carrying a bouquet of snow white daisies. He walked slowly, using a cane to support himself. His eyes were bright with unshed tears, and Memorial knew she had a chore to do.

Too stiff to bend, he could do nothing but drop the flowers in front of the stone. Memorial drew a deep breath and blew on the flowers until they fanned out beautifully showing each little petal and each golden center.

The old man laughed, "Imagine that! They landed just the way you used to spread them out! I remember you always took such care to make everything perfect. I didn't know it mattered until now, but it did."

He chuckled out loud; "remember the time you fell down and spilled the flowers? You looked so funny sprawled out on the ground with peonies and iris and roses scattered from here to yon. You hollered when I laughed, but I couldn't help myself, even now, it is as funny as the day it happened. And in time, you laughed over it too. Not that day, but in time you did laugh."

As the old man turned to go, for just a moment, he caught a glimpse of his lovely wife, laughing and poking fun at herself, and Memorial knew she had completed her chore.

Throughout the day folks came and went. Memorial planted memories and happy thoughts like a country gardener planting flowers.

As evening grew near, she knew that her chore was going to end soon, and she hoped that God would be pleased with her work.

As she sat there wondering what he would say, she spied a child coming through the gate with a bouquet of roses clasped tightly in her hand.

Memorial gasped when she saw the rose, the very one that she had sprinkled with gold.

She wondered why the little girl was there. She had picked the roses for her mommy, and her mommy couldn't be here.

Following behind the child was a woman, the little girl called out to her "I know the way gramma"! Memorial hesitated and wondered, the little girl didn't look sad. But there had to be a reason that the same little child she'd helped chose roses was here at this place.

She followed behind the lady and girl, and stopped just short of them when they came to a stone.

The little girl laid the flowers on the ground, and said "here you are mommy, I picked them myself! Oh look at this one; it is the prettiest of all!"

Now angels are never sad, they have no sorrow in Heaven at all, and Memorial wasn't sure what the feeling inside her meant, but her tiny blue eyes grew misty, and her heart began to ache. What did God want her to do? She couldn't give the little girls mommy back to her, so why was she here? For surely nothing else could make the child happy.

The lady put her arm around her grand daughter. "Do you remember your mommy" she asked.

The little girl dropped her head and shuffled her feet, and immediately Memorial knew that this was the most important chore of all.

With invisible wings she flew to the child and whispered great things in her ear.

The little girl looked up at her grandma, "Yes I remember mommy! She used to hold me and sing songs to me.

"We used to play house together under the kitchen table, and when I would fall down and skin my knees she healed them with kisses.

"And she told me that no matter how big I got or how far away from each other we were, I would always be her little girl, and she would always love me very, very much!"

When the little girl left the special stone, Memorial lingered, making memories of her own. She was there yet when Gabriel returned and took her by the hand.

As she stood in front of God, he asked her how her day was, and she told him it was the loveliest day she had ever spent.

He smiled a great smile that made his face glow, and he told her that this was the day for which she had been made.

He told her that she had helped them all in a very special way, for this day was her namesake, Memorial Day.

So when you go to visit a stone, just know that you are not there alone. Memorial is there right at your side, helping you remember all the good things you should, and wiping away your tears with gentle memories of a life lived, not a life lost

Walking Through Fog

In the spring of the year when the air is warm, the humidity rising, and yet the earth remains in its more frigid state, a fog will rise.

The fog begins low to the earth and rises up from the valleys to ascend the hills.

I walk into the fog at its first rising. I feel like a tall tree or perhaps even a mountain as I turn my face to the heavens and behold the twinkling of the stars, and the soft glow of the moon, just as they are peeking through a crimson and golden sunset.

As I cast my face back toward the earth, I see below me a mist, which clouds my vision and makes my footing unsure.

Yet, as I look up again, there is wonderful clarity.

Walking through the fog can be a marvelous thing.

As the twilight deepens and the skies lose their crimson glow, the fog comes to meet my face.

The cool dampness of it caresses my skin and cools my body from the warmth of the day.

My sights are limited to the spaces before me, and those I see as though in a room lit dimly.

My mind leaves that place of worry and wondering about what lies in the far distant future, and concentrates solely on what is in the immediate.

Walking through fog can be illuminating.

In the depths of darkness, the moon and stars are hidden from my view by the mire of the fog that surrounds me, suffocating me, making me invisible.

I am lost in its density, struggling to find my way on a path I’ve traveled for all of my life.

My heart sinks in despair, then raises into my throat as fear envelopes me and robs me of all good judgment.

Walking through fog is terrifying.

I pray for strength, I pray for insight, the pebbles beneath my feet feel like boulders as I struggle to stay on the path.

I reach out my hands, grasping for some something solid, someone solid to give me a sense of security, only to find a vast wall of nothingness.

Tears are blurring my vision, flowing down my cheeks in waterfalls of despair; I am lost and alone, with no hope.

Walking through fog is humbling.

My struggle seems to last my lifetime, the journey is endless in a world that is no longer familiar to me.

I push forward in fear. I fear what lies ahead, yet I am afraid to turn back, afraid to face what is behind me.

As I struggle forward, I stumble, I fall, I cry out in fear.

On my hands and knees I crawl forward, and suddenly the fog lifts, I see my surroundings and laugh aloud.

You are standing there, your smiling eyes peering into my soul, you hand reaching out to bring me upright again.

The moon shines brightly illuminating your face, your smile reassures me that I am once again in a safe, secure place.

As the fog dissipates, and the sky lightens with brilliant splashes of blues, purples and gold, a new day begins.

The fog is once again at my feet, and I am a mountain or perhaps a tall tree, turning myself to embrace the warmth of the rising sun, and the promise of a new day.

Walking through fog is a marvelous thing.

Spring has sprung

How do you know...

When spring....

Has sprung?

When you can see....

That the burning.....

Has begun!!!!

It's that time of year in Logan County when the skies turn a hazey gray with occasional pillows of black smoke wafting through the air.

It's burn off time for the native grasses!

Yea, soon they will be green again, the skies will be blue the temperatures warm and all will be well with the world!