Just Faith

Faith is a gift from God. Faith can move mountains, even the mountain of addiction. Ending a life of self abuse caused by addiction will happen when you trust God to lead the way over, around and even through the mountain. God's "Twelve Step Program" begins with one easy step-believe in Him.

Monday, April 18, 2016

Through Their Eyes

From the very first moment we see them only through our eyes. We see them struggle to take their first breath; we will never forget that sound. Without notice, we begin to see all the changes in their life; how quickly they come. We see them change as they grow from gurgles to giggles, from bottles to snacks. Like a great mountain, a life of changes has erupted. We change their diapers, their clothes, their toys; we do this because we are their parents, guardians, their guide. We know the changes must come. We teach them to understand and embrace the changes that are a part of living in an ever changing world. We teach them to change from crawlers to toddlers, from walkers to runners. We teach them to change from pre-school to grammar school to the hectic halls of the high school. We teach them right from wrong, good from evil. We teach them about man and God—how man is entangled in constant change, loved by a God that never changes.

We teach them to change  habits that will slow them down. We teach them to slow down when they are going too fast. We teach them to change their childhood games and to learn the complicated rules of an adult life.

We teach them that change is good when they accept it as the greatest challenge of life.

We watch all these changes as they grow each day. We store away these notable changes, the good and the bad, in our picture books and in our fragile memories. How much they have changed! I once cradled them in arms that can now only hope for the occasional hug. Yet I look through the portals to my soul and know that the changes I witnessed are good.

Another change is looming.The day will come when I must see their world through their eyes. The changes now belong to them. Full ownership is their's. They change their words, their music, and their friends. I don’t really know any of these. Their words have redefined. Their music has a different melody. Their friends come from a different world.
They have changed.
I must try to see it through their eyes.

And then one day…one day, their address changes. A home to call her own.

This is what we wanted. This is what we worked for, struggled for, and fought for. For them to change from a child filled with needs to an adult filled with responsibility, hopes and dreams. This is good change. (Right?)

Alas, there is one more change that I must see through her eyes, for mine are to blurred by tears to see. My evenings will be quiet. My little buddy miles away.
Change is good.

Right?



Sunday, March 13, 2016

                                     From "It Takes a God" by J Hirtle
Abbey Goode stood silently. Only her eyes, stippled in blues and grays, searched the night sky. Any movement, she thought, would steal away a chance to hear him. She gazed past the moon, beyond the twinkling stars and into the charcoal colored heavens, searching, listening. She wanted to hear him breathing. She needed to hear him breathing! He had been a part of her, now he was gone. Listening…just listening.
 Twilight’s lull was interrupted by the shrill of a snow owl hunting the game that scurries along the shoreline, small innocent animals camouflaged by the dark night, unaware of the predator’s pursuit. Abbey turned towards the sound… "Hush!" She whispered to the creature. The moon’s light catches the beautiful bird, wings spread wide as it glides over Wharf Road, heading east moving towards the sleeping ocean. Then, just as quickly the owl dips down below the light of the moon, disappearing into the darkness. The cries of the owl gone; the silent night returns. She stands there listening, seemingly incapable of movement. Every sinew frozen in obedience to her desire to hear him breathing one more time.

Abbey Goode strains to hear that which she knows she will never hear again.
She stands facing away from the double doors which open into her father’s house. She knew she should turn and go back inside. Late night winds would soon arrive. Coming off the inlet, their strength would turn the November air frigid. Winter in Shelburne, Nova Scotia, is not marked by calendars but instead by the unpredictable and dithering Mother Nature. This year the perennial battle between the end of autumn and the arrival of Old Man Winter was being won by the latter. Inside her childhood home she would be warmed by the kindled blazes dancing in the fireplace. Inside is also where memories live. Memories that Abbey Goode did not want to rekindle. Not tonight. Not ever again.

 Her father would be sitting at the long cherry oak table; where so many meals had been shared and good memories shaped. He would be staring out the large bay window that peers out towards the docks. Docks now vacant except for the Cape Islander christened the “By Grace”; her father’s lobster boat. All the other ships had left port early that morning, setting a course for a longitude that would be rewarded when the ship’s crew hauled the prized lobsters out of the depths of the sea. It was only the second time in almost twenty years that her father’s boat had not lead the fleet out of the harbor on dumping day, steering their prows eastward hours before the sun cast its golden light upon the dark blue horizon. The image of the “By Grace” moored without companion was as dark and lonely as the image of her father sitting at the long table. Abbey couldn’t bear to see her father so… discarded. She had never witnessed her daddy, her hero, anything other than filled with life.