"On Losing It"

discombobulating: v. To throw into a state of confusion; to befuddle or perplex.


I paid for my groceries and headed out to the truck. It was at the end of a long day--a very long one where I had spent seven hours doing hands-and-knees gardening for clients. I needed some food staples so had stopped by the store before heading home. Arriving at my truck, I glanced down at the cart and realized it was empty. Discombobulated to say the least, I realized I had walked off after paying without bagging the food. I headed back in and retrieved the items from the clerk who had set them aside, knowing I would return. "It's been a long day," I told him.

My mind was spinning as I headed home. A couple of weeks earlier, I had some grocery items taken from my cart as I was digging in my purse for the keys to unlock the door--At least, that is what I thought had happened. Did I do the same thing then? Did I pay for my groceries and just walk away? The memory of that scenario added to the confusion of the current one.

"I'm losing it," I told a friend. "I'm just plumb losing it." In an effort and attempt to encourage and support me, I was told that he, too, has forgotten to do something or misplaced items."Don't give me that," I said. "Those are the same things I said to my mother when she was in the beginning stage of Alzheimer's.--They happen to everyone, Mom."

The experiences sat on my mind as I wrestled with them--and with God. 

Mom lived with Alzheimer's for ten years, passing away when she was around my age, and I'm 75. Some suggest it is inherited, asking if I am afraid of a similar fate. I have lived with the belief that it was a path my Mother had to walk, but that does not mean it is mine. I still believe that but the incident was unsettling.

My mind was eased as I recollected I had paid for the earlier items in the self-check. If I had left them sitting, the clerk on hand--or the next customer--would have told me. I've had people track me down when I've left cash in the machine. Yes, that's happened to me as well. And I do remember looking down at the deli chicken in the cart as its delectable odor wafted up as I headed to the truck.  

In my life as I walk with God, there are several basic things that will never change.
     #1: My life is not my own. 
     #2: I can control nothing.
     #3: God is love.
     #4: I either trust Him...or I don't. 

And so I begin another day, full of surprises and adventures. My God is a good traveling companion.

He said to his disciples,"Therefore I tell you,

do not worry about your life, what you will eat,

or about your body, what you will wear.

Luke 12:22

"On Being Held Hostage"

hostage: n. One who is not free to choose their own course of action. 

hostage situation: n. Events whereby the actor(s) (i.e., the hostage takers) are holding one or more persons against their will.


On December 31, 2019, while those countries in our world who use the Gregorian calendar were celebrating the beginning of a New Year, China reported a cluster of cases of pneumonia in people associated with a seafood wholesale market in Wuhan, Hubei Province. Less than three weeks later, on January 19, 2020, a 35-year-old man with a 4-day history of cough and a fever went to an urgent care clinic in Washington State. He disclosed he had returned to Washington on January 15 after traveling to visit family in Wuhan, China. On January 21, 2020, the first diagnosis of novel coronavirus in America was confirmed. 

The Wuhan Virus, the initial description given due to its origin, is a deadly virus which has expanded to touch every corner of the globe. Hundreds of thousands of people around the world have been sickened and thousands of others have died. The virus knows no  discrimination when it comes to income, background, education, or occupation. Those in high places are as susceptible as the lowliest of low. No particular country in the world, including the United States, is favored as it has brought the governments of the world and its inhabitants to their knees, begging for mercy.

Here in America a variety of measures have been put in place in order to try to limit the amount of exposure which may take place during daily life and its subsequent spread. The governor of each individual state has issued a variety of mandates, many of which are causing a grave and serious impact on the nation's economic health and the lifestyle of its citizens. Schools--from daycare up through universities--are shut down. The number of people allowed to meet together have caused physical social interaction to fade into non-existence. Church meetings, going to the gym, eating out at a local restaurant, enjoying sporting events--whether as a spectator or participant--none are allowed.

"Social distancing" is the term--I am to keep at least a 6' distance between me and the person nearest me. The initial suggestion to wear a mask for protection has now become a requirement when out in public. "Sheltered in" or "lockdown" is the wording used to reinforce the stand of the government to minimize becoming infected by the insidious, silent virus through self-imposed restrictions. "Stay home. Save lives" is the theme song of this New Year, 2020. 

Our borders are closed, preventing any from out of the country to enter; air travel is rare; small businesses across the country are shuttered. The orders were issued, and millions of us have obediently complied. Life as we knew it is completely altered. 

Why? Why would an entire nation of people respond so quickly--and so submissively? One could say this invisible monster has taken us hostage. I am going to suggest the virus is not the one holding the people of America hostage, but fear. The willingness to obey came about readily; fear was--and is--the culprit instigating and feeding the beast.

The initial response to COVID-19 was for the population across this land to storm stores, clearing the shelves of toilet paper and paper towels. Hand sanitizers and the ingredients to make them quickly followed as panic ensued. Grocery stores were unable to keep up with the demand for basic food items such as flour, rice, and beans as the fear surged. Fear of what? With restaurants closed, the stocking up of food makes sense. Keeping one's hands sanitized as a preventive measure doesn't seem unreasonable, but no one has come up with an explanation as to why there is a need to hoard large quantities of paper products.

Fear is like that, though. It has no rationale or common sense and no voice of reason.

Fear is the stuff that anxiety and panic attacks are made of. It causes total and complete debilitation, and that debilitation has permeated my country. Fear is the antithesis of peace. It is impossible for the two to share the same space and does not create an environment for health, either physical or spiritual.

In this electronic age where information is immediately transmitted around the world, some folk have found themselves glued to the television or the Internet, awaiting word of where and when the pervasive, insidious virus is expected to strike next. Images of horror are broadcast along with personal stories of life-and-death situations as many succumb to the disease and others recover. For many viewers, these reports only cause the fear to grow.

This encounter with COVID-19 has a war-like feel--against an enemy with the capability of sneaking in the back door and the potential of wiping humankind out. While the virus is very contagious, it appears to be less destructive in our nation than initially predicted. Fear embellishes, amplifies, and colors the most basic of things. It has had a field day with this one. 

COVID-19 set in motion a common, shared experience world-wide, and it has been exacerbated and propelled by fear. We were created as humans to touch, to share time and space. The mandates to wear a mask, hiding facial expressions; the 6' distancing rule, which does indeed create isolation; the perspective that each person we meet may be a carrier of the virus and, therefore, needs to be treated as a potential hazard, not a person--These contradict the very nature of our creation as human beings.

Hostage situations are combative ones with the police or military coming out in force with SWAT gear--their heavy body armor, armored vehicles, and heavy duty ballistics. The goal is always to bring about freedom for the one(s) being held hostage with no loss of life.

As humans we have two parts--the outer and the inner. The outer is the physical part, and the inner the spiritual, including the mind. This hostage situation, with the goal of setting the mind free from fear can never be accomplished by a SWAT team with its formidable equipment. It can happen only at the hand of God.

How does one deal with fear? And what, really, are we afraid of? Those are very personal, individual questions, ones which can only be answered in a searching of the soul before God. 

Personally, I have no fear of death. I don't even have a fear of the virus. As a person of faith, I know my life is not my own. Control of life--and death--is a fallacy. That control is not in my hands. 

Our country--and the world--is going to come out of this chaotic episode known as COVID-19. How are we going to deal with life as that takes place? And after? In fear or in freedom from fear?

May you find peace of mind in His presence. 

There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear; 
for fear has to do with punishment...
1 John 4:18

For God has not given us the spirit of fear; 

but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.

2 Timothy 1:7   

"Perfect Little Girl"

dictionary definition--The condition, state, or quality of being free or as free as possible from all flaws or defects.

Has God created anyone perfect? Is our society perfect? What is perfection? Growing up and hearing the word perfect, I only thought of it as perfect hair and face. It is so very far from that. When people/society call perfect what are they talking about? The free spirit is so much more outgoing and seen than a pretty face you see on Instagram. Social standards suck. It's putting people in a box basically saying if you aren't this idea of beauty you're not good enough. Do you know how stupid that is! When you're laying on your death bed are you going to be thinking about how good your outfit looked that one day or other people's opinions? No, you're going to be asking yourself if you really lived. Have you? Have you really done everything you wanted? Or at least put in the damn effort. Enjoy every moment as if it's perfect because it'll be over before you know it.

Sydnee King

"What are the Odds?"

odds: n. The ratio of the probability of an event happening to that of it not happening.

For those who gamble, knowing the odds factors into the decision made as to how much money to bet or whether or not to even make a bet. How much is the gambler willing to lose? Being aware of the odds gives a mathematical assessment as to the possibility of winning. For example, if the odds are 9/1 that means there is a 10% chance of winning; 1/4 means there is an 80% chance of winning. The greater the odds, the slimmer the chance of coming out ahead. If the odds are 100/1 there is less than a 1% hope of being a winner; 1000/1 makes it less than 1/10 of 1%--not very good odds to say the least.

My beloved sewing machine stopped working this morning--right in the middle of a seam. I have had her for over forty years, and it is the first time she has failed me. I have logged an enormous number of hours on my Swiss Bernina, and I do love to sew--and I love my sewing machine--so I found a shop that could check it out for me.

I thought I knew where the store was located but discovered I was mistaken. I was on a time frame--I needed to meet a client at a local nursery at 1, and I wanted to mow a lawn before that. The detour to the correct location had taken 10 minutes or so, but I thought I should have just enough time to make it. After leaving the sewing machine with the repair people, I hurried off.

Arriving at the mowing job, I parked the truck and was checking messages on my phone before unloading the mower. That was when I saw her out of the corner of my eye.  

She was a woman, probably in her eighties, moving very slowly as she walked down the sidewalk. Her left foot was heavy as she pushed her walker, the kind with a seat. In days gone by she would have been called a "bag lady,' one who carries their possessions around with them. It appeared she was not a person of means, but one who struggles to survive.

I recognize that woman, I thought. Am I going to get out and acknowledge her or not? I decided I wasn't going to--as I opened up my truck door and headed across the grass toward her. Deep inside I knew I could not forgive myself if I didn't speak to her. 

By this time she had traversed a ways on down the sidewalk. "Hello," I said, as I placed myself in her line of vision so she could see me. "Do you remember me?" I asked. Her face exploded in a huge, bright smile, exposing the empty spaces where front teeth were missing along with a single snag of a tooth. "Yes. You're the gardener." 

"How are you?" I asked. "I'm OK," she responded in a tone of resignation, one who is hanging on by a thread. We chatted for a while before she lumbered off, ever so slowly.
"Thank you," she said, an acknowledgement of appreciation that I had spoken to her.

The first time I saw her was several years back at a law office where I maintain the landscape. She stopped as I was working, commending the job I was doing and expressing her opinion about the local city council--"Someone good needs to run for that office." She wanted a person who would listen to the people.

The next time was at least three or four years ago at the same location. She approached me, asking if I knew where a specific address was located and directions to get there. It was quite a few blocks away, too far for her to walk, I felt. I offered to put her walker in the back of my truck and take her. "No. You don't have to do that." I assured her it wasn't a big deal, and yes, I did need to drive her there. 

She talked the entire way, speaking of her faith and her belief in God. 

What are the odds that I would see her again today? She is more frail. Life has not become any easier for her. And yet she still has a smile that lights up the world, toothless smile though it is. 

This is my point--What are the odds of seeing this firefly of a lady after the passing of several years?--not only the second time but this third time as well. I could have been mowing the back yard as she walked by. There was a very narrow range of time as she walked down the sidewalk where I could see her as I sat in my truck--just a couple of minutes. My detour to the sewing repair shop altered my arrival by 10 minutes or so. Traffic, the speed of traffic--there are so many variables. And yet there she was, walking right by me as I prepared to go mow a lawn.

What are the odds? Infinitesimal at the very best. 

But odds do not apply. This is the design of God as He coordinates daily life, giving it the same level of importance as He did when He planned creation, making certain planets to not crash into one another and the ocean's tides ebb and flow. Only He can set up and implement sets of circumstances such as these.

My one regret is that I did not ask her name or where she lived. It is my hope and prayer that the odds will once again be defied as God orders things, and our paths will once again cross.

"On Wrestling with the Devil"

doubt: v. To be undecided about; to lack confidence in; to disbelieve, to question.

How long do you think it was after God told Adam and Eve they were not to eat from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil--because it would mean death--before Satan came to Eve, challenging that instruction? While time as we know it doesn't exist in the Garden of Eden, did he come immediately or did he allow some time for them to experience the epitome' of life with God, free from the curse of death?  

When Satan approached Eve there was no battle, either physical or spiritual. He questioned God's instructions: "Did God say, 'You shall not eat from any tree in the garden?' " She responded that God said they could eat the fruit of any tree in the garden except fruit from the tree that was in the middle of the garden. If they touched it or ate it they would die. Satan countered with a lie: "You will not die; for God knows that when you eat of it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil." He placed the seed of doubt, attached a lie, and Eve bought into it. 

The project was a daunting one. I had committed to sewing 150 face masks for the employees in the company where my son-in-law works. In this current COVID-19 pandemic, face masks are recommended as a helpful deterrent.  

I have sewn my whole life. In fact, I still have my first 4-H sewing project, made when I was very young--a small corduroy needle case, one lined with flannel. It was all made by hand as we weren't allowed to use the sewing machines. 

There is, however, a world of difference between sewing and mass production. For me, sewing is precise and detailed; every stitch is important. My standard is perfection, a holdover from those 4-H days when projects were taken to the county fair to be judged. When one produces a large quantity, it is not practical to be so particular. 

Self-doubt immediately flooded in. Had I chosen the right fabric? What about the pattern? Was it going to fit correctly? The design is pretty straight forward, but making 150 is no small thing and was complicated by a shortage of available materials. It was a challenge, one which took a little over a week as I vacillated between complete confidence and total frustration and despair.

As I finished the final one, packaged and delivered them, the doubt did not dissipate but only increased. What if they were unacceptable? What if they were viewed as garbage and needed to be trashed? I carried them all up to God and dumped them at His feet. Then I walked away.

It was then I realized I had been in a wrestling match from the beginning. I would like to say I've been wrestling with the devil, but he didn't even have to get that involved. His modus operandi was to place one single seed of a thought, a doubt, and then he stood back to watch. I would get settled in a rhythm and a flow, then turn around as another doubt appeared--and I was all worked up again. In fact, I could chart the entire project, every step of the way, and it would be a series of ups and downs.

Satan is the enemy of God; he is my enemy as well. He is shrewd and subtle, one of those who tosses out a comment, then steps back and watches as self-destruction takes place..He loves to stir the pot and does it well. It isn't difficult, either, when my focus has shifted from God.

If I have learned anything from this sewing project, I hope that I have learned that doubt is a tool of the enemy, a trap that ensnares, in the same way it was with Eve. 

As long as I have been walking with God, I should know better. 

"Whatever Happened to God?"

My father was a hard working man. After completing his day job at the local plywood mill, he came home to his second job, that of farming several acres and milking a small herd of Jersey cows twice a day.

He loved to travel. Crammed in the back seat of a car without air conditioning during the heat of summer, my two brothers and I weren't so keen. The tendency for all three of us to be car sick didn't help as he drove 500-600 miles a day to his childhood home of Texas, Mom's birthplace in South Dakota, and a variety of places in between. 

Dad was the ultimate sightseer, absorbing the scenery along the way. We visited the Grand Canyon before it became crowded, went to Disneyland when it was newly opened, witnessed Old Faithful at Yellowstone, drove across the desert of Arizona and were tourists in a myriad of other places. When we weren't housed by relatives, we stayed in cottage motels with a kitchenette where my mother could prepare an evening supper and breakfast the next morning before we once again headed out.

My father's dream was to retire, purchase a travel trailer--he had his eye on an Airstream--and go places. Mom and Dad took only one trip after he retired. As my mother shared the driving load, Dad realized something serious was taking place, that her capabilities had become compromised..  

Mom was in her middle 60's when an invisible, insidious monster took over her body and her mind. Its name was Alzheimer's.

The family was all gathered together, probably after a get-together of some kind. Dad was explaining what the doctors had reported. They thought she might have Parkinson's, and she had been given some medications. "Whatever happened to God?" I asked. Mom's head whipped and, with steely, cold eyes she responded, "Yeah. Whatever happened to God?" It was apparent she felt He had failed her.

The world is in the midst of a pandemic, another type of unseen, dangerous predator. This one has taken the form of a lethal virus, named COVID-19. Everything about it is new and unknown. It has rightfully earned the moniker of novel virus. Around the world, this beast has torn through like a tornado, leaving death in its wake. At the same time many are left untouched and unscathed. 

The news and internet post daily counts of those who have contracted it and those who have died from it. With 24 hours a day, 7 days a week media available, it is like the nightly news from the Vietnam era on steroids.

How-tos abound--There is no end of precautionary measures to take in order to avoid exposure and prevent becoming one of those in the daily count. "Wash your hands for at least 20 seconds with hot, soapy water; do not touch your face with your hands; use hand sanitizer after touching anything you do not know is clean. Practice social distancing; stay at least 6' away from people other than your immediate family; wear a mask. Disinfect anything and everything."

The world waits in anticipation of either a cure-all for those already infected or a vaccine, protection against future outbreaks. 

If those of faith and those who are without faith were placed in a line-up you could tell no difference between the two. All are practicing the same methods of prevention with the same measure of behavior---including me with my face mask. 

As a person of faith I am in the world but not of the world, but where is there any evidence of any difference? Whatever happened to God? How does He want me to live with and deal with the threat of COVID-19? It is a question I, as a believer, need to ask myself.

"Whatever happened to God?," He reminded me. 

This much I know: I know that in the same way I cannot save myself spiritually, I cannot save myself physically. I can do all the "right" things, all the things "they" say I should do to avoid contracting this virus and yet, if it is to be part of my walk, there is nothing I can do to change it.

Whatever happened to God? He has gone nowhere. Nothing is separate from Him, and all of creation serves His purpose. Just because He doesn't work in the way we think He should does not mean He has abandoned us. 

And I hear Him saying to His church, "Whatever happened to Me? What have YOU done with me? Seek me, not the world--and stop viewing me as an afterthought."

Now when these things begin to take place, 

stand up and raise your heads, 

because your redemption is drawing near. 

Luke 21:28

"On Calamities and Focus"

focus: n. Concentration of attention.
calamity: n. An event resulting in great loss. 

While Americans were glibly and merrily celebrating Christmas and the incoming New Year, China was dealing with a virus which had never been seen before. This novel virus, first manifest in the Wuhan Province, is said to have originated from live bats sold in the open wet markets where live and dead animals are in constant close contact. The bats were the original hosts which infected other animals, and the disease was then transmitted to humans.    

COVID-19, as it is called, is a highly contagious respiratory disease. In our exceptionally mobile world, where a person can have breakfast on one continent and dinner on another, it was inevitable due to its ease of transmission that it would spread worldwide.The first confirmed case in the United States took place on January 21, 2020.

The earthquake March 31, 2020 was more than just a tremor. It measured 6.5 on the Richter scale, the standard scale used to compare earthquakes where 6 to 6.9 is classed as strong. It was centered about 80 miles northeast of Boise, but it rattled the state capital for a fraction of a minute and was the most powerful earthquake to strike Idaho since 1983.

I had been weeding in a client's garden and wasn't even aware of the incident until I was asked if I had received any information from my daughter. My Idaho family lives in a suburb of Boise; close friends live even closer to the epicenter.  With the ease of electronic communication, I was able to find out that both families had experienced the quake but no damage was done. "It was a good one," my friend said. They live in a log house, and she commented, "The logs on this old house were a-grumbling. We ran outside." 

First the Coronavirus and now an earthquake. Choose your calamities to focus on, was my thought. Or not.

Television, radio, and the Internet are filled with vast quantities of information about COVID-19, much of it packed with a wallop of intensity, bordering on hysteria. The situation is fluid, ever-changing so it suits our current form of communication--cable television and the Internet--to report on the pandemic twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.

The head count of those infected all over the world, the number of people who have succumbed to the disease, and the lack of resources for medical personnel is staggering. As mankind tries to bring it under control by limiting human contact, the financial ramifications are devastating. Many businesses, particularly those in the travel and hospitality industry including airlines and cruise lines, hotels, and restaurants are suffering due to the government mandates to stay home. Schools from preschool up through universities have been closed in order to avoid one-on-one contact which might precipitate its spread. Self-quarantining, in an effort to limit exposure and the potential threat, has turned cities all over the world into empty tombs.  

The available data on every facet of this pandemic is prolific. 

I found myself reading article after article, post after post written by those who had experienced the disease or those who are treating its patients as doctors and nurses. Information pours out of official government sites as hot spots in the nation try to bring the invisible monster under control. In addition, there is no shortage of videos available explaining "how to" self-cure, avoid being infected, or what to do if infection does occur.

My mind went into overload from the sheer volume of material I had ingested. My concerns for my family and my nation remained unresolved. What is going to happen? There was only silence.

I am one who believes nothing is separate from God and that there is a point and a purpose to all things. Where is my peace, Father? There were no answers of reassurance.

In the same way one cannot physically look forward and backward at the same time, one cannot look to God while focusing on the problems at hand. It is an impossibility. And so, I am given a choice: I can either focus on God, with the knowledge that He is in charge of His creation--which includes me--or I can focus on the situation around me and all that "they" say is or is not going to happen. 

I have made my choice, and I have chosen to not focus on the calamities, whether it's this insidious virus, an earthquake, or any other set of circumstances that may come along. 

Do I know what the outcome of that choice will be? No. I must live it, and I must walk it all the way through. What I do know is that I have a measure of peace that is free from the cacophony of the endless chatter surrounding this great upheaval. For me, that is priceless.

Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on thee:

because he trusteth in thee.

Isaiah 26:3 (KJV)