Confessions of an Island Tourist

    I relaxed in a patio chair on the lanai of an island condo, enjoying a spectacular view of the Pacific ocean while I worked on my writing. What more could I ask for? I watched turtles gliding through the waves, as near by snorkelers bobbed up and down, and an occasional whale would breach the surface and come crashing down into the deep blue water. While vacationing in Kauai, I was privy to a true Paradise. However, I have to admit, during my tropical get a way I made a couple tourist blunders that left me a little red-faced.

One of my favorite activities is swimming and snorkeling in the aqua marine water that surrounds the Hawaiian islands. One day my husband and I were snorkeling in a popular cove with our good friends, Mark and Beth. Eventually, we all drifted apart as we each followed different schools of tropical fish. Although I thoroughly enjoy participating in submarine adventures, in the back of my mind I am aware that I am sharing the territory with some potentially unfriendly creatures – namely, sharks.

                                                              Fool Me Once

A most brilliantly colored fish had drawn my attention and I had been following it for quite some time, when suddenly I felt something sharp scratch at my leg. An adrenaline rush hit my chest and spread pins and needles to my extremities. I sucked a puff of air through my snorkel as I jerked my leg up toward my chest and looked over my shoulder, hoping not to see my worst nightmare staring me in the face. What I found was the face of our friend – with a snorkel-clenched grin. I shot to the surface and pulled my snorkel from my mouth just as he came to the surface laughing. “You brat!” I hollered, “You’re lucky I’m not carrying a spear-gun!” I laughed as he popped back under the surface. Then I looked around for my husband while treading water and waited for my racing heart to slow it’s pace. Now you would think after suffering such a nerve-rattling offense, that I would never consider inflicting it on someone else. However, I have always thought that one good trick deserves another, so when I caught sight of my husband’s bobbing snorkel, I headed straight for him.

                                                               Fool Me Twice

As I made my stealth underwater approach, I made sure that I stayed directly behind my husband so that I could make my attack un-detected. I maneuvered carefully until I was close enough to see his blondish leg hairs glistening in the sunlit waters. Then I slowly reached forward and was just about to give those hairs a good pull when I noticed that my husband was wearing a different color of swim trunks. I jerked my hand back as one of my fingers just brushed the stranger’s leg and I saw him turn in my direction. I whirled a 180 and shot out of there like a sailfish! Did you know that sailfish can swim up to 70 mph? If they were land creatures, they could out race the average freeway driver. O.K., maybe my fins weren’t going quite that fast, but I was on the move and I never looked back!

                                                                        I Give Up

I decided to avoid pulling any more underwater pranks, although I just couldn’t help but being playful while exploring the underwater world. I mean, life just wouldn’t be fun without playfulness…right?

I had been chasing a cute parrot fish, that would teasingly stay just a few inches from my reach, when I saw my husband snorkeling close by. I did a quick scan to be sure it was indeed the man I married – same color swim trunks, same color snorkel gear, body build matched, and short spiked light color hair – yep, that was him. I was excited about the brilliant fish I had been playing with and wanted my husband to see it. So, in my excitement I quickly made a submerged swim toward him. He was busy studying a small school of fish at the time, so I playfully dove under him and popped up essentially mask to mask and gave him a big grin. He grinned back. It is amazing how different your spouse can look while underwater. Hello? It is also amazing how you can feel the embarrassed heat in your cheeks while you are submerged in

cool water…

 

…reverse fins…

                                                          

                             

                                     

                                                                   Stranger Alert

I had been thoroughly enjoying every aspect of my vacation, including all the yummy tropical desserts which were available, which meant I had to burn off those extra calories somehow. We had just returned from a wonderful day on the beach and I had finished washing off my snorkel gear ahead of my husband and our friends who were with me. So I left them at the outside water faucet in the condo parking lot and I hustled up the outside stairs for some extra exercise. I jogged up a couple extra floors higher than ours, then down a three and back up one to our third story condo, feeling pretty good that with all that I was still the first one back to the condo. I was breathing hard when I walked up to our door. It was then that I noticed that the outside privacy door was closed, but the inner security door was wide open. I dropped my gear and in full alert I cautiously opened the privacy door to find a man standing across the room with his back toward me. The stereo was playing and he was casually leaning against the edge of the  sliding glass door which opened to the lanai. He apparently was feeling quite at home, as he had poured himself a glass of wine and seemed to be enjoying the ocean view.

I don’t consider myself to be the bravest person on earth, but when it comes to fight or flight, I become a fighter. I took a quick breath in and held it as I planted my feet and clenched my fists at my sides. I was just about to yell, “Hey! What do you think you’re doing?” when I noticed that a different sofa was in our condo…then I heard the voices of my husband and friends echoing from the corridor on the floor below me. Really? I cringed and silently mouthed my panic. I had officially created an all new meaning to the word, dork. I took a cautious step back from the condo entrance and bit my lip as I carefully closed the privacy door in front of me, hoping that Joe islander would stay entranced with the scenic view. But the door clicked as it closed and he started to turn in my direction. I let go of the door handle, whipped around while scooping up my snorkel gear and shot out of there like a sailfish on land. Have you ever tried to run quietly on your tip-toes while wearing flip flops? The flapping sound reminded me of playing cards wedged into the spokes of a fast moving bicycle. The noise bounced off the halls of the corridor as I ran to the staircase and made my escape.  I didn’t slow my pace until I reached the condo with the familiar sofa, and a living room occupied by people I recognized.  My aerobics were done for the day.

Have you ever been, so to speak, caught with your pants down? I would love to know that I am not alone. Mahalo!

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Cell Tower Melt Down

“Patience is the ability to idle your motor when you feel like stripping your gears”  Barbara Johnson

In thirty-six hours, I would be on my way to the airport to catch a plane destined for the Hawaiian islands. I had looked forward to this respite with my husband, but there were two problems that dampened my excitement. First, the list of things to get done before leaving town wasn’t shrinking fast enough. Secondly, cold and flu season had hit hard and seemed to be on a never-ending cycle at our house. I had just recovered from my stint of illness about the time it hit my husband – for the second time. Determined not to fall victim to the viral monster again, I disinfected all surfaces of possible contamination on a daily basis, and to be on the safe side, I abandoned my “chemical free air” motto and saturated our breathing space with an aerosol disinfectant. I gave my husband an arsenal of medicine and quarantined him to our bedroom, while I retreated to set up camp in the upstairs bedroom. Despite my Hazmat efforts, it seemed that my body had once again been infiltrated by “the bug.”

I called my friend, Lisa, who was a fellow mentor mom of a local young mother’s group, and lamented to her about my aching body. The group would be meeting the following morning, and it was my turn to bring a hot dish for breakfast. She listened sympathetically and graciously offered to prepare the casserole and deliver it for me the next morning. I felt the least I could do was bring the ingredients to her door step, so I told her I would drop by after dinner. I had not been to her house before, so she gave me directions and I made a note of it.

The next few hours passed by quickly as I moved at sloth pace to complete my check list. I had already cut the list it in half by asking myself, “If I died today, what items on this list would matter?” But the remaining number of “must do’s” made me groan. The clock struck nine and I still hadn’t dropped off the casserole ingredients. My body felt like it had been hit by a truck, so I swallowed a couple more Ibuprofen tablets and then asked myself, “If I died today, would I care about this list anymore?” After a short contemplation, I picked up a pen and wrote my kids a note. If our plane goes down, hire someone to clean the house, there is grocery money in the attached envelope, you know the rest. I love you!  Then I packed up the casserole ingredients, hopped in my car and headed across town toward Lisa’s house.

It was when I reached the half-way point that I realized that I had left the paper with the house address on my kitchen counter. I growled through clenched teeth. I just wanted to lay my head down on the steering wheel and go to sleep. I put my foot on the brake to slow my car while I contemplating what to do. I knew the general vicinity of where my friend lived, and the thought of turning my car around made me feel like either crying, or saying things I shouldn’t say, so I decided to wing it. Fortunately, my waning memory was able to bring me to the correct street. Great! I would just call her to get her house address. I took my cell phone from my purse to make the call. It was then that I noticed the no service symbol at the top of the lighted screen. I had forgotten that cell service was sparse on that side of town. Ugh! You have got to be kidding me! I shouted and squeezed the phone tightly.

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There are some great advantages of living in a small town that is nestled in the forested foothills. But street lights are few and cell service can be elusive. If you are in a poor service area, you may be lucky and find a sweet spot – if you are patient enough to maneuver your phone around until that one saving bar of service appears on your screen. Then you freeze frame your phone in that position, dial the number and contort your body until you can connect your ear to your phone.

I proceeded to drive slowly down the dark road, while holding my cell phone by my steering wheel and watching for a service bar to pop up. I strained my eyes to see out the side windows of my car, hoping I would find a familiar vehicle parked in front of one of the houses. Nothing. The long road seemed to be taking a gradual decent into the abyss and the space between houses had widened. I groaned. I had to find a sweet spot. So I shifted into reverse and slowly backed up the road, while I waved my phone across the front windshield area. My eyes shifted back and forth from it’s small screen to my rear view mirror. I was almost to the top of the street when a service bar popped up on my screen. I hit the brakes. The bar disappeared. So I shifted into first gear and slowly rolled forward a few feet. The bar popped up and disappeared again. So I shifted into reverse and inched backward. Voila! There it was! I held my cell phone above the steering wheel with clinched fingers, avoiding the smallest increment of movement. Then I reached across my body and pulled the emergency break with my left hand, wishing I would’ve thought to hold my phone in that hand instead of my right. I carefully dialed my friend’s phone number, then un-hooked my seat belt and pushed myself upward, twisting my body and tilting my head toward my phone. I heard a faint beep and the service bar disappeared. This is ridiculous! I shouted at my phone.

Over the next several minutes I repeated the same scenario, verbalizing my utmost frustration. I shouted that I hated small towns with tall pine trees and no street lights. I called my phone names that I would never consider calling people. I was in a state of rapid decline when at the far end of the road I saw something quickly moving in the darkness. It appeared to be bouncing down a slope on the right side and heading straight for the road. I drove slowly toward the moving object, when suddenly in the beam of my headlights I caught sight of my friend who was jumping up and down, waving her arms, as she ran down her long driveway. Apparently, the light from my bouncing cell phone had summoned an S.O.S..

When I pulled along side of her, my entertained friend was laughing. She had seen my entire in-motion saga. Fortunately, it hadn’t come with a sound track. I rolled down my window and admitted that I was going to have to go home and wash my mouth out with soap. She roared with gracious laughter. I shook my head in shame, but couldn’t help but smile. It’s good to have a friend who can withhold judgement and forgive your shortcomings – as well as laugh at your idiosyncrasies.

It’s hard to admit to such poor behavior when I would rather think of myself as one who has mastered patience – and can slay the drama queen despite my circumstances. However, I have found that confession is the first step toward change and it can bring accountability to my actions. I thanked my friend as I handed her the bag of casserole ingredients and then drove away. On the way home, I thanked God for the gift of good friends and for his perfect forbearance despite my daily failures. I also told him that I really didn’t mean it when I said I hated small towns with tall trees and no street lights. I was grateful to live in such a lovely place. But in my heart, I knew that He already knew this, and when my head hit the pillow that night I slept well.

I’m Tired

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I was in the grocery store when I observed a toddler walking behind his young mother. She was pushing a grocery cart that was laden with food items, along with an infant in it’s carrier that was positioned in the top section of the cart. As the toddler plodded along, I noticed that his pace began to slow, when suddenly, he plopped himself down right in the middle of the canned food isle. His mother noticed that he wasn’t directly behind her and turned to him and asked, “What’s the matter?” He leaned back on his elbows and answered, “I ti-yard!”

As I watched him recline on the tile floor, I thought to myself, “Little man, I’m right there with you!” Then I thought, if big people were allowed to do what this little one was doing, then there would be adults plopping themselves down in grocery store isles all across America!

This little guy was physically tired from walking, what was to him, a long journey through the grocery store. As we become adults, the tiredness that we experience becomes more than physical. There is a mental drain that comes with the daily stressors in our lives, which often transfers and taps our physical energy. It is often called “the daily grind,” but what starts as a small pack on our back can often build to a heavy burden we end up carrying on our shoulders – and we become tired.

Are you feeling tired? What burdens do you carry on your shoulders? A possible job lay off? Bills that surpass your paycheck this month? A negative medical report? Your child’s future? A failing relationship?

If you are like me, there are times when you feel the weight of the world on your shoulders. This isn’t what God planned for our lives. In fact, he says for us to bring our burdens to him, to give them to him to carry for us. He offers something that is humanly impossible for others to offer to us.

When I go to him and vent my worries and frustrations, he patiently listens. Then when I am quiet and ready to listen, he tells me to give him all my worries, all my junk, to lay it all down at his feet and leave it there. When I take him up on his offer, I can feel him lift the weight from my shoulders. Doing so gives me a sense of freedom that can’t be found in this world. A wave of peace washes over me and my restless nights dissolve away. Jesus tells us “In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” (John 16:33) Because of what he has done, and what he continues to do, He has become my hope and my resting place.

Trash to Treasure

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Trash to Treasure

   I spent my childhood years making family trips to the ocean. We spent hours being chased by the crashing waves and warming our wet toes in the heated sand. Those were days that I looked forward to and they have left imprinted memories in my heart. Since then, I’ve married another beach lover and we have had our own family tradition of making summer treks to the oceanside. I’ve watched my own delighted children as they’ve danced in the ocean waves and let the cold sea foam roll over their toes.

One beach that we frequented over the years had an unusual characteristic. Decades before our arrival, the seaside town residents had dumped it’s trash over the cliff’s above this small beach. This was long before the birth of ecology awareness, at least for the general public. Amongst the garbage was tons of discarded glassware and pottery, along with appliances and old cars. Eventually, the dumping was forbidden and a long term cleanup of the beach was done. In the meanwhile, over decades, a wonderful thing happened to the broken glass that had been thrown away.  As the pounding waves cleansed the beach, they also transformed the broken pieces of glass, smoothing, and polishing them into thousands of jewels that washed up onto the shoreline. It became a treasure hunt for our family to find the perfect pieces to bring home with us.

Our children are now grown and several years have passed since we’ve walked along the pebbled glass shore together. A few pieces of those memories sit on my office desk for me to enjoy. When I look at the unique shapes and colors of glass, I wonder if they could speak, what would they tell me about their journey? I think about how these simple pieces of glass had become someone’s garbage that they threw out, they were considered as trash. Yet, here they are on my desk, and they have become my treasure.

I have made a small candle holder that is lined with some of my jewels and on dark days, I’ll light the candle and the colorful glass pieces come to life. Today is one of those gloomy days, and the rain is beating against my office window. I’ve lit the small candle in the holder and as I enjoy watching it’s light dance through the unique glass jewels, the thought occurs to me that there is a resemblance to humankind in this artwork. Each person has their own story of what has brought them to this place in time. Some have had a long and meaningful journey, others have hit rough waters. Then there are some who, as the glass on the beach, have been discarded as trash. But as the glass has been transformed into treasure by a majestic power that cannot be bridled, I believe that  we too, can be transformed. I believe that the One who moves the mighty ocean holds us as treasure in the palm of his hand, and says, “Look! Aren’t they beautiful?”

Bacteriology 101

“Don’t touch your face!” I constantly warned my children during cold and flu season. Children’s fingers tend to gravitate toward the nearest nostrils.  “Bad germs that can make you sick like to live in your nose,” I would instruct, “and sometimes in your eyes.” Then I would direct them, “Scrub your hands and don’t stop until you’ve sung the entire ABC song!” But somehow those little buggers made it to the gateway needed to set up camp in a nostril, or two, and then wreak havoc in our household. Out came the thermometer, Tylenol, cough syrup and case of Kleenex, along with a new set of rules. “Cover your mouth when you sneeze and cough!”

Today I sit with a box of Kleenex at my side, blowing and sniffling, while sucking on a Zicam tablet. While I don’t allow any of my fingers to nostril hang, apparently, at some point I broke my own proverbial rule and “touched my face,” or I was privy to someone’s uncovered cough, or sneeze. I’d like to believe that it was the latter of the two. Either way, an undetected viral organism made it’s stealth transfer into my body and has made itself at home.

When I was in college, one of my required science classes was Bacteriology. I learned more about bacteria than I ever wanted to know. The more I viewed the squirmy, crawly organisms under the microscope, the more I was aware of their encroachment of my surrounding environment. They became my invisible enemy. I envisioned them on my countertops, doorknobs and sink faucets. When I got into my car, they were on the door handles, steering wheel and stick-shift. I battled against them as I scrubbed and disinfected all surfaces of possible contamination. But when my husband took me out to dinner, they were at the restaurant too. I grabbed my little cleaning cloth from my purse and wiped down my fork, knife and spoon prior to use. The first time I did this, my husband took a quick glance around the room, then leaned toward me and whispered, “What are you doing?” I blinked. Didn’t he know the dangers that may lay on the surface of the utensils that he was about to put into his mouth? It was apparent by the look on his face that he did not, so I informed him. “You have no idea who has touched those, and whether or not they washed their hands first – they could be infected with E.Coli for all you know!” He rolled his eyes and retorted, “You are beginning to sound paranoid!” To which I replied, “I’d rather be paranoid than dead!” I’m afraid that it didn’t end there.

One day while working on my home decontamination plan, my husband said, “You know, you can’t avoid germs, they are in the air you breathe.” I promptly went to the closet and grabbed the Lysol spray and fumigated every room in the house with it. When I realized we were beginning to run out of oxygen, I relented to opening up all the windows.

I’m not sure when my germ paranoia began to fade. Perhaps it was my mother reminding me that I had made it through the first two decades of my life in good health. She informed me that in my first few years of toddling around on this planet, that I had eaten with dirty hands on more than one occasion and once had bitten a live snail in half. That totally grossed me out and I told her that she could have kept that information to herself. Perhaps it was reading health related articles about the overuse of antibacterials, that we were killing the good bacteria that protects us while trying to kill the bad stuff. Or coming to realization that mom was right (as well as my all-natural friend who refuses to use hand sanitizers), that we are made with an immune system that works, short of a serious condition, and some exposure to germs may actually be good for us. Eventually, my germ phobia dissolved. But I do have to admit that I still occasionally wipe down my steering wheel and stick shift in my car with an antibacterial wipe.

Yesterday my husband came home and promptly placed his work bag on top of the freshly cleaned kitchen counter. I asked him if he would put it on the floor instead since it wasn’t clean enough to be on the countertop. He said that it wasn’t dirty, that it had only been on his truck floor – and that was clean. I wanted to give him the entire run down on how bacteria is invisible to the naked eye, and how life threatening bacteria can be transferred to kitchen countertops and into the food we eat. But instead I replied, “Would you lick your truck floor?” Point made.

Old habits die hard.

Cyber Tells

Recently,  I was at the lab waiting to have my blood drawn when I noticed that I had a text message waiting on my cell phone. I opened it and found that someone apparently had the wrong number, as they were looking for a fellow named “Nick.” I didn’t want them to think that “Nick” was ignoring them, and so, with the intent of being helpful, I hit reply and sent a quick note saying that this was not Nick’s number. A minute or so later, I received a reply, “YOU HAVE THE WRONG NUMBER.” I was a bit taken back by the all caps reply. I blinked while looking at my cell phone screen intently and thought, “Are you yelling at me?” After all, I wasn’t the one with the wrong number! I was only trying to be helpful! I thought about this as the all caps stared back at me without batting an eye. Humph! I thought. If this person had a half of a brain, they’d know that I hit reply and was responding to a message that came straight from their cell phone! They had the wrong number, not me! My pulse increased and my blood began to race through my veins.

This is ridiculous, I thought, and then the left side of my brain said, “Just put your phone back into your purse and let it go.” But the helpful, right side of my brain reasoned that I should educate this dim-witted person about how the “reply” button on a cell phone works. The right side won out. And so, I hit the reply button once again. I gave a short explanation that I had received a message sent from their phone for someone by the name of “Nick,” and that I was responding only to let them know that THEY HAD THE WRONG NUMBER. And yes, I did use capitalization in my response. Now the person on the receiving end must have had lightening speed thumbs because I received a reply within 30 seconds, “ONCE AGAIN YOU HAVE THE WRONG NUMBER.” This time I knew that speedy thumbs was yelling at me – and it had to be a woman. After all, a man wouldn’t bother using capitalization. A man wouldn’t have bothered to respond to a misdirected text in the first place. He would ignore it, assuming that the other person would figure things out. He wouldn’t care that poor old Nick was going to be in hot water when he came home for dinner that night. It didn’t matter that Nick wouldn’t have a clue why he was in trouble, because he never received the text from his female counterpart. I felt bad for poor Nick, having to come home after a hard day’s work to Ms. Capitalization. But a man’s response would be simple, “Whoever Nick is, he’ll figure it out.”

I sat in my chair and clinched my teeth. I thought about all kinds of capitalization’s I could respond with. Then I heard the technician call my name. I followed her to the back room and took a seat. She swabbed my arm and was delighted to find a nice big vein to poke. “Wow!” she said, “You’ve got some nice veins popping up here!” I smiled in response, but thought, “If you only knew.” I held my cell phone in the opposite hand as I watched my blood shoot into the glass tube. The technician chatted away about the lovely weather outside, but my mind was busy formulating a clever, all caps response to Ms. Cyber-thumbs. I thought I could make it short and sweet, something like, “PUT A CORK IN IT AND LEARN HOW TO USE YOUR CELL PHONE.” The technician placed a Band-aid on my arm and sent me on my way. I rotated my phone in my hand while I walked across the parking lot to my car. Then a small voice in my head told me to put my cell phone back into my purse and let it go. “Humph!” I mumbled. Then I tossed my phone into my purse, but kept the feed so I would recognize the number should I receive another misdirected text from HER again.

Over the next day or so, I forgot about my cyber-rage episode. Then I came across the feed while sending a text to a friend. I re-read the exchange and began to analyze the situation. I wondered if the text sender was just having a bad day, or if they needed serious counseling. I thought about how I had let this unknown text opponent get under my skin, and then wondered if I needed to seek counseling. It is amazing how quickly we can react to another person’s words, or actions. We can let these things interrupt our day, our week, or even our sleep. By allowing negative thoughts to take up residence in our mind, we can miss the good things that come our way. I feel a little sheepish having to admit that my human nature got the best of me – and it probably won’t be the last time it happens. But I do hope that I’ll remember that such minuscule things in life aren’t worth expelling energy on, that letting some things go is the best choice. I tell my kids that we can’t change other people, or how other people act, but we can change our own actions and attitudes. We can choose to focus on the positive. Kindness almost always wins out. It’s not easy to take the high road, but the view is so much better from there!

Proverbs 12:18

Trust

I had an injury a few weeks ago that fast became a pain in the neck – literally. I was referred by my physician for physical therapy for pain reduction and correction of vertebrae position. I wondered silently if they could do wrinkle reduction and upward positioning of other body parts while I was there…But I knew that solution lay in an entirely different sort of practice, and after envisioning myself in tight-eyed surprise, with lips of an Orangutan in a permanent cock-eyed smile, and – well, I’ll stop with that, I decided to deal with old-er age and gravity as it comes.

So today my physical therapist decided to use cervical traction as a part of my treatment. He said most people either love it, or hate it. My mind flashed a scene of my body being pulled in two different directions and me screaming out for mercy. But I agreed to give it a try.

Once the therapist placed my head into the contraption that would soon be elongating my physique, he cranked two small, curved bars inward to the sides of my neck to firmly secure my condyle(s), which according to the Greeks, are a rounded projection at the end of a bone that anchors muscle ligaments and articulates with adjacent bones. I wondered if this was comparable to the Terminator taking a firm grip around my neck. Next, he started squeezing a hand pump that moved the unit which embraced my head upward. With each squeeze, my head was pulled northward as my body stayed at the equator. While laying there I began to think about what I was allowing this person to do. I had entrusted him with a very essential part of my body. Although I had never seen his credentials, or checked the America’s most wanted list for his name, I trusted that he was a competent, licensed physical therapist. A slight perspiration began in my underarms, and I wished that I had used deodorant. As my head continued to inch upward, I pictured it like a cork, stuck into the end of a bottle of champagne and at any moment it was going to pop right off my shoulders, bounce off the ceiling and roll out the door. But before that happened, the therapist asked how I was doing. I replied, “I think that’s good.” Fifteen minutes later, I felt like a giraffe and I was free to roam about the room. All in all, I have to say it was worth it. I had a better view of the world below me and I was in less pain.

On my way home, I thought more about the trust I had placed in my physical therapist. He said that he could help me, and without question, I believed him and placed myself in his care. I had put my faith in him. Then I thought about my life, my future, and those I love. I say that I believe in the God of our universe – the one that actually created it, yet so often I hesitate to completely place all that I am and all those I love into his care. When my physical therapist brought out the traction unit, I didn’t say, “Uh, I’ll take it from here”, I let him do what he knew best, even when I was feeling some uncertainty during the process. I didn’t know what the outcome would be, what the future would hold for me, but I had faith that he knew what he was doing.  As I write this, I can see a golden sunset on the horizon that lay in contrast to the dark grey clouds that dominated the day. In my heart I am resolute to give the God that I trust all aspects of my life. I give him the dark clouds that can hover over my day, I give him the good, the bad, and the ugly. I entrust those who are a part of my life to his care, and I look to the horizon of my life with the hope and assurance that he’ll be there with me.

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