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It has been said that not since biblical Adam, has a human known solitude like Michael Collins. Even though “his” event happened in my lifetime, and more specifically on my birthday, I had to ask, “Who’s Michael Collins?” Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin are names quite familiar to us, but Michael Collins, even though no less important, is less familiar. He piloted the command module for Apollo 11 which carried the men to the moon and allowed Mr. Armstrong and Mr. Aldrin to be the first humans to walk on the lunar surface. While the two astronauts stomped across the moon and planted the first American flag, Mr. Collins circled the moon in the module. As he drifted to the back side, all communication with both his fellow crew members and with those on earth were severed as was expected. In his journal that day he wrote, “I am alone now, truly alone, and absolutely isolated from any known life. I am it. If a count were taken, the score would be three billion plus two over on the other side of the moon, and one plus God knows what on this side.”

I can’t claim anything close to this degree of solitude, but I do remember a time when I was so lonely for my family that I didn’t know if I would survive another day without seeing them. I had just finished up a grueling season of demanding work during my nurse’s training. A mega paper that had required hours of research had at last been handed in. For weeks, my mind had been focused entirely on the paper, my work schedule, my patients, and other “nursing school” details I have long forgotten. No time since have I experienced such an overwhelming relief once that intense month was behind me. I desired nothing more than to have my Mom and Dad visit and give me a hug and take me to dinner.

It didn’t happen. Not to mention it was a five hour trip to Lincoln, NE, but it was also a busy time on the ranch. Ranchers, as you might know, don’t just don’t take off at the drop of a hat or the call of a daughter. I lived through it, but I might have shed some tears.

Fifty years later, I have had many opportunities to “feel” that loneliness again. I have experienced extended periods when I have had long evenings by myself that could have turned into a pity party of major proportions. But, I have been spared the agony. How come, you ask? Why is it different now? I can only credit it to increased spiritual maturity. Back in the 70’s I was still looking for other people (my folks, for example) to fill the void. Today, I rely upon Jesus. He is always with me and there’s no one that can love me more than He does.

So now I live with the confidence that there is nothing in the universe with the power to separate us from God’s love. I’m convinced that his love will triumph over death, life’s troubles, fallen angels, or dark rulers in the heavens. There is nothing in our present or future circumstances that can weaken his love. There is no power above us or beneath us – no power that could ever be found in the universe that can distance us from God’s passionate love, which is lavished upon us through our Lord Jesus, the Anointed One! Romans 8:38-39 (The Passion Bible)

Until next time – keep on readin’ and I’ll keep on writin’.

We had weird forms of entertainment when I was a kid. I suppose some of that comes from not having game boxes, cell phones, or even a TV with good reception. But…never the less – we found entertainment in many of our daily activities.

Sometimes, for whatever reason, the family or part of the family would find itself sitting on the concrete steps of our front doorway. It would start with one family member sitting on the step taking a rest from daily chores on the ranch. Another would walk by and plop down beside the first. Mom might hear us from the open kitchen window and not wanting to miss out, she would join the group. Whether it was just a couple of us or the entire family, we always had a ranch dog or two that wanted in on the action. They would nuzzle their way between us – hoping for attention in the form of pats and rubs.

It was typically warm weather when we perched on the porch steps. As we would pacify our canine’s nudges, we would often come across an engorged tick enjoying a satisfying juicy supper. If you’ve never seen an engorged tick it looks completely different than the tick that hasn’t been feeding on a host’s blood supply. Where as a non-eating dog tick is small with a wrinkly appearance, the body of an engorged dog tick can be almost 5/8 of an inch long with a smooth appearance. The color of the two changes from a reddish brown to an almost white or gray/blue body. She (the female is the only one that becomes engorged) buries her head beneath the skin surface. The tick’s mouth has reverse barbs that dig into the skin to hold it in place. But, don’t wince yet- no discomfort is detected by the dog because the tick injects an anesthetic solution into the surrounding area where they choose to get their dinner. (They are still not my heroes by any means, but this did make me feel a little better about ticks.) Hanging on like this, as if it is surely their last meal, they are often difficult to remove.

That’s when Dad would reach into his back bib overall pocket and pull out his pliers. Those little creatures would hold on even tighter when grasped with the jagged edges of the tool. Eventually they were no match for Dad’s strength and they would lose the battle.

Once the tick was off the host, the fun began. Remember, we were three ranch kids that came up with creative ways to have fun. What better way than to see how far we could make that blood fly in that fat tick when smashed beneath our shoe or pinched tight with a second pair of pliers. The whole idea doesn’t sound appealing to me now but it had its charm back in the day. (With all the research that’s been done on tick born or carried diseases, I’m sure parents today wouldn’t allow such behavior.)

When I think back on those days of sitting on the step and dealing with those determined ticks hanging onto their host with all they’ve got, I can’t help but think how great it would be if Christians had that amount of resolve to shine God’s light in this darkened world. If we were all to do that, it might not look dark at all – it might transform everything. We might see the darkness the way God sees it – the night shines like the day because darkness is as light to Him. (Psalm 139:12)

It’s easier to shine our lights during the Christmas season than it is at any other time. Maybe Christmas could be our time to start, with the intent of letting our light shine throughout the entire year. For my New Year’s resolution I think I’ll vow to increase my resolve.

Merry Christmas! Until next time – keep on readin’ and I’ll keep on writin’.

No doubt, we have all heard this icebreaker statement. “Tell the group something very few people know about you.” I was thinking about that question this week and wondering what I would say. Then, it came to me. I’m not sure my extended family even knows this about me.

I used to skin muskrats! That’s right. I can hardly believe it myself now – forty plus years later. We had the cutest shed that my first husband had built for just that purpose. It was white, trimmed in brown to match the house. We were a young couple, and trapping was a sideline hobby for my husband. To be honest, the furs he harvested allowed us to buy appliances and a few extras along the way.

Trapping season occurs in the colder weather when the furs are prime. This means they are at peak color, length, density and texture. As I remember, the average muskrat pelt was worth $4.00 in the 80’s. It took a stack of those to add up, but when you could supplement them with mink, raccoon, beaver, or coyote – all worth five times that amount, then a new freezer or TV seemed less like a dream.

My motivation for helping out in the not so pleasant smelling fur shed, was less about the new freezer and more about family time. If the boys and I were to see their dad through the winter months, we would have to join him. He was skinning, fleshing, and stretching hides every night. The shed was equipped with a small electric heater and once the four of us added our body heat, the small space was flannel shirt comfortable. Daniel may vaguely remember these evenings, but Caleb was still tucked beneath blankets in the infant seat.

We had a radio tuned into the local country western station while we worked. Once I got used to the strong, musty smell, (that’s as nice as I can put it) it wasn’t a bad environment. I could skin a muskrat in about 4 minutes – twice as long as it took my husband – but he was grateful for the help and knew better than to complain. It freed him up to tend to the larger animal pelts.

I would have never seen myself enjoying doing this kind of activity, but I came to look forward to those evenings we would all be together in the shed. The experience taught me that, sometimes, in order to receive a blessing, we need to step out with a positive attitude and try those very things we’ve not been inclined to favor.

It makes me think of Esther in the Bible. She stepped before the King, knowing he could have her put to death, but what a blessing she received. The entire Jewish nation was saved because of her willingness. I didn’t save any kingdoms, but I did put a deposit down on some good old-fashioned family time. And now you know my secret life. 🙂

Until next time….keep on readin’ and I’ll keep on writin’.

When my boys were toddlers and preschoolers, we lived in a ranch style home in Cozad, Nebraska. The patio door looked out onto the small backyard where the sandbox and the swing set resided. On increment weather days, Daniel and Caleb would stand at the patio door, hands and noses pressed to the glass, longing to go out and run their trucks through the sand or climb onto the swing set. I do not claim to be a meticulous housekeeper, but I did use a fair amount of Windex and rags on that patio door! So many prints!

This week, I was reminded of that as I heard the song, “Fingerprints and Noses” by Newsong for the first time. A friend on FB posted a video where he did an awesome job of singing it and commenting on the lyrics. I invite you all to listen to the song now from Newsong.

As I listened, it made me ask if I have the same hopeful anticipation of these children. Do I believe without a doubt that if He says He’s coming, He is?

Father God…give me this childlike faith. Bless these little ones that display it so well and help me to learn the lessons they so willingly teach me. Amen

Until next time…keep on readin’ and I’ll keep on writin’.

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Have you ever received encouragement from a nightmare? It doesn’t seem that those two words – encouragement and nightmare deserve to be in the same sentence. But maybe we are too quick to judge those encounters. When we awake from those awful nightmares, we often pass them off as horror films and want to forget them as quickly as we can without attempting to wonder what the experience could mean or teach us.

This last week I had one of those nightmares. Wow! It was a tough one to get through, but in the end it provided peace and encouragement.

My worst fear is falling from a cliff or some sort of frightful edge. Whenever I’ve closely approached an unguarded edge my heart rate spikes and my respirations multiply to twice the normal rate. My hands get clammy and my stomach churns. It’s enough to give me the heebie jeebies just thinking about it.

You can probably guess where this is leading in context of a nightmare, but let me give you some background into my perilous subconscious incident. A group of 5 or 6 women, including myself, began piling into a Suburban. Some aspects of the dream are hazy as they often are. I wasn’t particularly good friends with any of these women but we had a destination in common so someone suggested car pooling. For whatever reason, (another hazy detail) the vehicle’s owner wasn’t wanting to drive and one of the other women volunteered. The driver made a wrong turn and we found ourselves in a one lane small private parking area behind a home. Unfortunately, the home rested very high on a tall, steep cliff with the severe drop off at the edge of the paved parking area. The Suburban was a larger vehicle than the driver was accustomed to. She began to inch the vehicle backward, but it was soon obvious she was nervous about backing her way to the street. As soon as the pavement widened just a bit, she began to attempt to cramp the wheel to turn the vehicle around. I was nervous…but not to the point of panicking…yet. However, as the minutes went by, my body began to react. I felt my jaw clench and I grabbed onto another passenger’s hand with my sweat drenched one. And then, as I could feel us inching closer to the cliff, full panic set in. I clenched my teeth, held my breath and squeezed my eyes shut tightly. Intuition told me disaster was eminent. The other women gasped and screamed as my stomach parachuted upward and I felt the stability of ground disappear. We had just gone over the cliff.

The fall seemed to be geared in slow motion, taking much longer than it would have in real life. We cried out to God. I can’t remember my specific prayer but I can still feel the intensity of it, even now. I began to sing the first song that came to me – “Jesus Loves Me”- and the other women joined in. I was less scared of dying than I was of mass injuries and pain. The singing helped keep my mind off the terrible thoughts of crashing. In a dream – where all things are possible – the Surburban zigzagged as if floating through the air. This continued until the last few seconds before impact. It then took a direct vertical descent to the ground. We held our breath as we prepared for the massive, jolting crash. I wondered if this would be my last conscious breath before impact. But then impact came with a totally unrealistic surprise – a soft and easy landing; less noticeable than a plane coming in on a smooth runway. The spectators on the ground were as awestruck as we were.

I couldn’t imagine why or for what purpose I had had this completely unrealistic nightmare. Wide awake now, I lied in the darkness and pondered the aspects of the dream. It had involved my worst fear. We thought we were all doomed to die a horrid death or at the least, terrible injuries. Yet, we were calmed by bringing God into the situation and knowing that Jesus loves us. Lastly, He had brought us safely through.

As I thought about it, that is what I would learn from this very unpleasant experience. This nightmare had placed me in the worst situation with my most dreaded fear, yet when the women cried out to God – He was there extending His hand to help us. I know Bible verses, like Psalm 136:12 and Isaiah 41:10. He acted like a strong hand and powerful arm and I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand. But, sometimes it takes a visual to grasp the full meaning. This is a visual that I’m not to forget soon and I’m grateful for that.

I came to understand that night how “nightmare” and “encouragement” aren’t necessarily an oxymoron and how there’s a life lesson in most everything.

Until next time – keep on readin’ and I’ll keep on writin’.