At least during lunch. She makes a pretty good lunch companion in small town USA when a person has no pans and a bacon and cheese sandwich just doesn’t sound that whip-tee-do today. I’m fairly certain if we were to go outside for recess, she would swing on the swings with me, too. She wouldn’t leave me to go play with her fun friends by the tornado slide. She’d prefer to hang out with me. Or at least that’s what I like to imagine.

Marie and me, we long to be, happy together.

I remember when Mom used to MAKE me eat a pot pie from the local IGA store. BLECHHHH! It had VEGETABLES in it. I loved the crust, but ugh, I dreaded having to eat those nasty vegetables inside.

But I grew up. And now I eat all the healthy things. Like Marie Callender’s Chicken Pot Pie.

You know how ELSE I grew up?

I went to the grocery store at noon. But in order to do so, I had to drive a very large pickup truck that was parked with PERFECTION, backed up inside the garage with maybe an inch of clearance on either side. Oh, you say it was easy because all I had to do with drive forward and watch the sides?

Well, I will have you know…as I pulled out of the garage, my thought was, “I’m just gonna leave this tank out here in the driveway when I return and let Sam work his magic on the backing in to the garage talent portion of this little jaunt.”

One roast and a half gallon of milk later:

I am a proponent of back-up cameras!!

I, Rhonda Donda, Rhonda Joy, Rhonda-cannot-back-up-a-car-straight-to-save-her-life-Rhonda, Rhonda-can’t-drive-a-stick-and-never-could-because-she-didn’t-grow-up Rhonda, DID IT.

Thanks to that amazing green runway light in the center of the screen and lots of beeping and yellows and reds when I am Danger Will Robinson!-ing, I backed that horse up without making one little scratch, and when I got out of the truck inside the garage, I LAUGHED. I laughed a very proud “Huh Huh!” kind of laugh.

So today, I am grateful for a back-up camera that assisted my park job.

I am grateful I wasn’t at the grocery store to get ice cream – it would have melted.

I am grateful for a roast in the crock pot.

And I am grateful for all the healthy vegetables I ate for lunch, thanks to Marie Callender.

In the past, I have said:

I quit sharing when you quit listening.

When I felt that my story was not heard, I went silent.

When sharing my feelings and my story was met with judgment, condemnation, and unsolicited advice rather than tender loving care and Christ-like grace, I found tender loving care and Christ-like grace…elsewhere.

I have had some close people in my life who thought they were helping me by trying to offer advice. They tried to “fix” me, instead of offering to just listen to me share what it was like to walk in these “shoes.”

I have had some close people in my life who were so disappointed in me, they walked away instead of listening to my perspective, my story. A few of them wrote me letters telling me of their disappointment and hurt, feeling justified to share scripture and righteous wisdom in order to hasten my repentance.

For some people in my life whom I thought were good friends or close family, they went silent and chose to ignore the battle I faced. I understood, although I was heartbroken. They didn’t know what to say. It was easier to just go silent. I’ve done that to others…

*****

Tomorrow makes me weary. Listening to really good people make ugly comments about this candidate or that candidate is so discouraging.

I told someone the other day that I am just as guilty of thinking one way versus the opposing view, simply because I pay attention to the hate and the internet and the news…and I do not know Donald or Hillary, but God does.

Hillary is His child.

Donald is His child.

And I suspect that deep down, they are both trying to do what they believe is best for our country.

I also know that, according to what I have heard and read, they have done things in their past that they most likely regret. Me too.

Until I sit down and have a conversation with either of them, HEAR THEIR STORY, and walk one step in their shoes, I have no business spreading negativity and hatred and disgust and unkind words. Whoever is my President tomorrow, I owe them a chance, I owe them many chances, because it isn’t going to be easy, and they are going to need me and millions of other followers of Jesus to practice the fruits of the Spirit and carry out the instructions from Micah 6:8.

*****

I am grateful for a lot swimming around in my head today.

I am grateful that I am where I am, that even though it was a long hard road, I can hold my head high, knowing I am forgiven, I am loved, and I am surrounded with the friends and family who cared enough to hear my story before offering judgment.

I am grateful for my friends and my family who are interested enough to ask, and I am grateful for the reminders to be the kind of person who asks others to share their story, because sometimes I get so caught up in my own, I become one who unintentionally goes silent and ignores.

I am grateful for dreary days to appreciate a roof over my head and a warm blanket.

I am grateful for a Sunday message that continues to nudge on my heart.

I am grateful for a day without the TV on, a day without the radio on.

I am grateful for a cheese and bacon sandwich for lunch.

And I am grateful that tomorrow is a new day, a new era of possibilities for our country, and another opportunity for me to wear love everywhere I go.

Okay. So, I am spending my morning here at the computer trying to work, but I have been “put in my place” and it’s all I can think about today!

A co-worker friend has a son who lives in New York City and is a creator of all things cookbooks for the upper crust, the hoity-toity, the elegant and refined.

Her son attended a “white trash” party this past weekend and won a monetary prize for bringing the best dish/recipe. When my co-worker described the ingredients, I began laughing, realizing that is something I make and love to eat!

I don’t know what’s worse – knowing my palate is in the “white trash” category, or finding out he won $250 from the upper crusts for a recipe that “my kind” eats on a regular basis!

Co-worker and I were laughing at the irony and she then shared one of HER family recipes, complete with jello, oranges, and mayonnaise.

Mayonnaise?! Mayonnaise goes in a SANDWICH, not in a jello salad!

Which then reminded me of dinner with Mom and Dad one evening when my daughter and son-in-law were visiting. Mom got all fancy and used actual salad plates in the upper left corner –  you know, moving up a class on the social scale, rather than the usual one plate per person and food served in the pans sitting on homemade hot pads in the middle of the table.

Anyway, in the middle of these cute little miniature dinner plates other people use, Mom had swankified a piece of iceberg lettuce, added a canned pear half, and topped it off with this beautiful dollop (I love that word – it makes me sound posh) of what we thought was whipped topping, the kind that comes in the white and blue plastic containers and is stored in the freezer.

Au, contraire mon frère.

It wasn’t a white cloud of sweet heaven.

It was MIRACLE WHIP.

WHO PUTS MIRACLE WHIP ON FRUIT??? EVEN IF IT DID COME OUT OF A CAN???

I have not laughed that hard in a very long time.

It would take a miracle to whip that “salad” into something upscale and edible, and my son-in-law’s reaction was PRICELESS.

Oh, the memories.

As co-worker and I were laughing at our Miracle Whip stories of growing up on the other side of the tracks, I remembered my little Girl Scout back at St. George Episcopal School.

The population at our elementary school was definitely from the “north end of town,” if you get my drift. We assimilated only because I taught at the school, not because we also had nannies and maids and pools and vacation homes.

The Brownie troop was planning their annual camp out, and the Brownie leaders thought it would be wonderful to have each little 2^nd grade girl share their favorite meal with the troop to garner some ideas for their cookout. The girls went around the large circle sharing “Chicken Picatta” and “Marinated Beef Tips” and “Calzones with Sausage Marinara…”

And then it was Katrina’s turn to share her favorite meal that Mom makes.

My favorite meal is HAMBURGER HELPER!

So today, I am grateful for laughter on a Friday.

I am grateful for all things boxed and canned and plastic-containered and bagged and yummy-in-my-tummy on the south side ‘o town.

And I am grateful that Hamburger Helper helped my hamburger help me make an incredible-tasting meal that made a huge impression at the dinner table…and around the Brownie circle.

I could probably name more than one, but today I will name… MICHELLE. She ate suckling lamb intestines today. I cannot make this stuff up. She did. See?

Last night, I was watching that incredible Game 7 with Dad, and a commercial came on that fits my Michelle to a T.

If you taste something bad, you want someone else to try it. It’s what you do …

Michelle is the friend who initiated me into the world of waxing eyebrows and upper lip. I know. Gross. But hey, she’s a hair guru and it’s what she does. WASN’T what I do until she got ahold of me.

She is the friend who bails me out of my sister’s crazy ideas, because the two of them together are crazy+crazy. They like to go to creepy places where little men practice corporate foot massage in the dark and no one is allowed to utter a sound. I only went along because someone needed to be there to call 9-1-1 and take pictures.

She is the friend who is not afraid of anything, who lives life to its fullest, who fills every waking minute of every day with adventure and doing for others, who puts up with a lot but you’d never know it, who can do ANYTHING and does it well, who is blunt and to the point but in a good way, and who taught me to be real and own my story, no matter the chapters.

Today, I am grateful for Michelle, even if she is halfway around the world in Turkey and eating baby lamb guts.I am grateful for her friendship. I am grateful that she deflects my sister’s crazy so that I can sit back and laugh at the two of them. I am grateful for her gift of hair wonder, her gift of cinnamon roll baking, her gift of cake heaven she inherits from her Mama, her gift of four children who make life very interesting and entertaining, and her gift of admiration for her husband in the middle of the wacky life they live.

And I am so so so so grateful that she is halfway around the world and no where CLOSE to me with that Kokoreç she was eating.

THIS was enough crazy for me for a while:

This beauty is 4 years old today. Her eyes are like blue crystal, and they speak volumes and tell silent stories captivating those who listen. Ama is very grateful for this precious little granddaughter.

This beauty is not 4 years old today, but her birthday is tomorrow, and this Ama isn’t her Ama but is her friend and I’m grateful for the laughter and friendship she’s added to my life.

Birthdays are a big deal. A celebration of life, a celebration of a person and their worth and impact. I have never understood those who choose to ignore these special days. One day each year to notice and show gratitude and reJOYce that this special person is alive and inhabits a spot in our heart.

Birthdays are for eating red velvet cake. Birthdays are for Barbie doll centerpieces. Birthdays are for awful blow-up-balloons-and-then-race-to-the-chair-and-sit-on-balloon-and-pop-it-and-then-race-back races.

Birthdays are for embarrassing sombreros and bad waiter/waitress singing. Birthdays are for trick candles that won’t blow out. Birthdays are for parties at ice skating rinks and McDonalds and scavenger hunts at the mall. Birthdays are for last minute frantic shopping and stressed out Mamas trying to pull off a successful party.

Birthdays are for hamsters in yellow and orange tube cages. Birthdays are for pulling out the You Are Special birthday plate. Birthdays are for slumber parties with sleeping bags and staying up lates.

Birthdays are for silly cards with heartfelt messages and homemade coupons to redeem inside. Birthdays are for cupcake treats to take to school. Birthdays are for making wishes. Birthdays are for happy surprises and feeling very loved.

I am grateful for birthdays that are celebrated and for those in my life who put forth the effort to recognize and appreciate the day a person was born by acknowledging above and beyond.

Birthdays are for making memories. I am grateful for the memories I have of past birthdays, and I wish many years of happy memories for you, Annistan and Julie.

“I wish you lived with us.” – 5 yr old granddaughter

“Can you come back every Halloween or even every holiday, like every Christmas?” – 7 yr old granddaughter

“I was nervous about meeting you, but I like you.” – 13 yr old foster granddaughter

I am grateful for time with these two little girls and their big sister.

I am grateful for a room to sleep in, sacrificed by big sister while I visited.

I am grateful for kitchen science experiments on a Sunday afternoon.

I am grateful for book reading and silly talking before bed.

I am grateful that two girls read ME stories and this Ama learned that she has really smart granddaughters.

I am grateful for the privilege of spending lunch time with them at their school.

I am grateful for good discussion with their daddy.

I am grateful to have been invited to see my daughter teach children’s church.

I am grateful for my hearing that allowed me another opportunity to hear my daughter’s laugh as she played games with teenagers.

I am grateful to have watched a little Wonder Woman and a leopard get so excited about trick-or-treating, ring doorbells wearing little girl nervous grins, and then they dumped their candy in a big pile on the living room floor, just as I did when I was their age.

I am grateful to have witnessed a mommy and a daddy treat the holiday with care, making it a very special memory, complete with a scary story in the dark of the house and then watching Charlie Brown’s Great Pumpkin with generous candy allowance before bedtime.

I am grateful for my Dad, who took the time to call me in the middle of Target yesterday, because he knew.

He knew I needed to hear the words, “I love you.”

I am grateful to be loved and I am grateful for those in my life who say those words and show me. May I always reciprocate and give love freely and without strings attached.

I am so very grateful for my grandchildren and the Grace and Joy they give to their Ama.

And I am grateful for the yellow brick road back to Kansas that I am now on…there’s no place like home.

We are all broken people capable of causing great hurt to others when we act out of that brokenness. – Roberta Lyle, COR GPS Insights, 10/31/16

I am grateful for a text message this morning from Paul, reassuring me that I am loved.

I am grateful for a phone call from Sam a few minutes ago, reassuring me that I am loved.

I am grateful for a text message from my sister, from my boss, and from Elaine, all three giving me encouragement.

I am grateful that God is continuing to heal my broken spirit through others.

And I am grateful for two little girls who make it all worth the effort and sacrifice.

2 am. I am grateful for restlessness that causes me to rely.

I am grateful for the purr of a cat in the 2 am.

I am grateful for the sweet words of Parker Grace who lives her middle name.

I am grateful for a rainy day, inside and outside.

I am grateful for strength to smile.

I am grateful for 2 am to be held and comforted by the Comforter.

I am grateful for reminders that I am broken.

I am grateful for an internal jukebox that plays hymns for encouragement…

…why should I feel discouraged? Why should the shadows come? Why should my heart feel lonely, and long for heaven and home? When Jesus is my portion, a constant friend is He, His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me.

I am grateful for this picture of an umbrella that reminds me when it is raining, I am covered, and I should look up and see the beautiful and not the dreary. I like this umbrella…

…grateful, all the day, and through the night, long.

Daily Scripture: Colossians 3:9-16

9 Don’t lie to each other. Take off the old human nature with its practices 10 and put on the new nature, which is renewed in knowledge by conforming to the image of the one who created it. 11 In this image there is neither Greek nor Jew, circumcised nor uncircumcised, barbarian, Scythian, slave nor free, but Christ is all things and in all people.

12 Therefore, as God’s choice, holy and loved, put on compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience. 13 Be tolerant with each other and, if someone has a complaint against anyone, forgive each other. As the Lord forgave you, so also forgive each other. 14 And over all these things put on love, which is the perfect bond of unity. 15 The peace of Christ must control your hearts—a peace into which you were called in one body. And be thankful people. 16 The word of Christ must live in you richly. Teach and warn each other with all wisdom by singing psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs. Sing to God with gratitude in your hearts.

It’s 5 am. My devotion from church this morning by Ginger Rothhaas (http://gpsinsights.cor.org) included a challenge to take the following list and post it somewhere and work on one or more of Paul’s directives. I see several I need to focus on.

• don’t lie
• put on compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience
• be tolerant
• forgive
• put on love
• have a peaceful heart
• be thankful
• teach and warn with wisdom
• sing with gratitude

I couldn’t sleep. By the time this traveler arrived at her weekend destination, granddaughters were already asleep. So, I am up and waiting to hear the first sounds coming from their room this morning. It’s a good time to reflect, to study, to be grateful, and to pray from my list of requests while I wait for whispers and little voices.

A challenge to begin my day. Accepted:

I try very hard these days to not lie, but sometimes wearing a mask, pretending things are different, omitting details, and responding with, “I’m fine” fall into this category.

Aunt Patsy exemplifies compassion, kindness, gentleness, humility, patience. Be more like Aunt Patsy. And Aunt Estalene. And Roxanne and Linda.

Tolerance is something I am getting better at, but why is it harder to be tolerant of family? Why do we treat others better than the ones who know us best? Why do we sometimes have two separate personalities, public and private?

Will I ever fully learn to forgive? I hope so. Because sometimes it hurts so bad.

I have found peace in my heart, I have been blessed with a peaceful life, and for this, I am grateful.

I’m pretty sure I have the thankful and gratitude thing down, but it’s like my walk with God, always growing, always something more to learn, until the day when I meet Him face-to-face.

I taught. I tried to share wisdom. I could say I’m done, I failed. Move on. But I am learning that the best teacher teaches by doing. Walk the walk, because sometimes words are shallow when they aren’t followed up with action. Living example right here.

Sing with gratitude. My internal jukebox sings constantly with gratitude. I’m not a singer. But when Kevin Bogan orchestrates Sunday morning hymns to end with acapella singing…I’m done. It’s over. I am crying gratitude and want to replay it over and over and over. So I do. I’m a pianist. PLAY with gratitude. As long as my fingers will allow.

Today, I will count every. last. thing. Name them one by one. Beginning with Katrina. And then Parker. And then Reilly. And then…

Time to enjoy. I hear little voices and two years has been too long.

I am grateful, Sam, I am.

I am grateful way up high.
I am grateful as I fly.

I am grateful in this seat.
I am grateful at 33,000 feet.

I am grateful in a cloud.
I am grateful when it’s loud.

I am grateful for the snow.
I am grateful for beauty below.

I am grateful sun or rain.
I am grateful in this plane.

*****

I am grateful for good weather to fly.

I am grateful for the kindness shown to me by so many today.

I am grateful for a ride to the airport from Karen.

I am grateful for a window to my right, and an empty seat to my left.

I am grateful that I do not need to use the bathroom on the plane. Yet.

I am grateful that I can use the iPad to write my gratefuls.

I am grateful for a new book to read, The Princes of Albion, by Jon Hopkins, given to me by Elaine.

I am grateful for Philip Gulley sermons that Dad let me borrow to read and absorb.

I am grateful for a big suitcase. With wheels.

I am grateful that my suitcase didn’t weigh over 50 pounds. Close, but no penalty.

I am grateful for gum to help with sensitive ears.

I am grateful that tonight I see my sweet baby girl again after two long years.

I am grateful that half of my suitcase is full of dress up clothes from City Union Mission thrift store for two little granddaughters.

I am grateful for this morning’s devotion that brought back memories…

*****
Matthew 18:10

One of the most famous paintings in Christian history is Heilger Schutzengel, which means “Guardian Angel.” It’s the scene of two children – a girl and her small brother – crossing a rickety bridge over a roaring stream. A beautiful angel hovers above them, arms outstretched, wings expanding, silently watching the youngsters complete the perilous crossing. The origin of the painting is unknown. A company called Lindberg in Switzerland produced the first copies many years ago. We can only assume the artist was thinking of Matthew 18:10.

The Bible gives few verses on the subject of whether or not everyone has a specific guardian angel, but there’s no question we have angels watching over us all the time. Whether we have one specific angel guarding us is uncertain, but what is clearly indicated in the Bible is that God has His angels watching over us constantly. Don’t worry about whether you have one angel or many. In either case, the angelic host serves as the security detail for believers. They are our heavenly helpers whenever we’re on a bridge over troubled waters.

*****

Aunt Drula and Uncle Fred gave us a gift when one of the girls was born. I don’t remember now which daughter… It was an old picture of two children crossing a bridge with an angel watching from above, a fairly known picture that I had seen many times. It wasn’t anything I would have chosen to decorate a room, but because it was from Aunt Drula and Uncle Fred, two of my favorites, I hung it in the girls’ bedroom for years.

“I believe there are – angels among us,
Sent down to us, from somewhere up above,
They come to you and me, in our darkest hour,
To show us how to live, to teach us how to give,
To guide us with a light of Love.”

This was the chorus to a song my choirs sang one year at a Christmas program, when our theme had something to do with angels, I suppose. We asked the audience to donate teddy bears to the local police department to keep in the trunks of their cars to give away to children facing trauma. And another year, at another school, we collected coats and hats. During the song, the audience passed their gifts to the front of the stage as my kids sang. I was always a sucker for sweet emotional endings with a message.

My sister’s name is Angela, and she was so named because Mom needed a little girl so badly after Judy died, and God answered her prayer.

My granddaughter-to-be, chosen by God to bless my oldest daughter and her family in a few more weeks, will be named Aynjel, a name that will inspire and lead others. Perhaps she will be a teacher or a counselor or a nurse or doctor. Perhaps she will watch over and protect those in need…

*****
So, as I read my devotion this morning from Dad’s David Jeremiah book, I thought about that picture. I thought about my sister who is headed to Texas to be an angel this next week to women and children who have no hope. I thought about little Aynjel. I thought about past Christmas programs. I thought about the scripture of “entertaining angels unaware.”

I thought about the bridges over troubled water in my life that I have had to cross, that I must cross. I know that He holds me in the palm of His hand. I know that He goes before me, He walks beside me, and sometimes He carries me when I just don’t have it in me to take another step. I know that His angels will keep charge over me…

And for that and so much more, I am grateful.

*****
Smooth flight. The pilot announced we were flying over Wyoming a short while ago, so I know it won’t be much longer. The flight attendants are offering last refills, one last pass before clean-up time.

I am grateful for three hours to reflect, to read, to sit in silence and reminisce.

I am grateful for an abundance of friends with whom I’ve reconnected in the last week. Elaine, Cindy and Keith, John and Linda, Donna, Shirley and Lacey. Friends make my life so rich and full…

I am grateful for the support of my husband who praises my independence and continues to encourage me to grow and fully live.

I am grateful for the song, “Bridge Over Troubled Water” that is playing on my internal jukebox right now.

I am grateful for a hug from Dad today and grateful that he and Natia will “hold down the fort.”

I am grateful for a dinosaur phone that at least holds pictures so that I can scroll through and enjoy three years of grandchildren while I become more and more anxious to begin the weekend.

I am grateful for Joyce, and Karen, and Moira, and Mary, who understand the importance of this trip and wished me well just before I left.

I am grateful for shuttle rides and rental cars.

I am grateful for memories of Mom hugging my girls when she saw them. “Grandma, you’re squeezing my guts out!” I get it now. I will TRY not to squeeze their guts out…

I am grateful for instrument flying or whatever you call it, because those pilots cannot see a thing in the middle of this rain cloud as we begin a slow descent.

I am grateful that my seat is in row 19 rather than row 20, because if it had been row 20, I would have spent three hours listening to the woman behind me talking about every. single. presidential. candidate. detail. I’m fairly certain she has expounded on every, and I mean, EVERY. thing.

And I am grateful that we’re almost there, because I have to use the bathroom now.