Does anyone make a difference?

Dear God,

If I die tomorrow

Or a thousand tomorrows from now,

Will it matter?

Will I be changed

Or have changed the world?

Will another moment from eternity of existence

Cause the moon to fall,

The oceans to weep,

The trees to walk?

But if an extra heartbeat brings one smile to a teary eye,

If all my heartbeats can make another soul sing,

Another life less dull,

Then my entire being has purpose.

And eternity becomes an instant of joy.

(by Pat Loehmer)

If I looked back through all the letters my sister Pat wrote me over the years, I would probably find the date when she wrote this. But I am pretty sure that it was well before she was diagnosed with cancer, well before she realized that her days were numbered, that mortality would come knocking way too soon.

Last night I finished yet another draft of my memoir of my mission trip to Kenya. Much of that trip was spent wondering if I made a difference, if any of those people who I tried to help actually had been helped in any way by my presence for that very short period of time. It took me several years to realize why I had gone to Africa; I should have read this poem then and it would have come clear. 

A cemetery visit

 

 Since it was Memorial Day this past weekend, on Friday, I helped Mom sort through a pile of silk flowers she had recently purchased. These two for Grandma and Grandpa, those two for Aunt Helen and Uncle Bob. My brother had already promised he would take her to the cemetery here in town the next day. Which left me to place the one bunch of flowers out at Woodlawn Cemetery fifteen or so miles down the road. That’s where the grave of my sister and best friend is.

I know that I have mentioned it before, but Pat passed from this life June 18, 1999, after a long battle with cancer. She has always inspired every word I write, every breath I take. Not a day goes by, barely a minute each day that I don’t think of her, remember her and ask myself “what would Pat do?”

I write for a lot of different reasons, mostly, I suppose because these stories inside of me are burning to get out. But the one story which I hold most dear, which I will not write until it is time, would be Pat’s story. You gotta keep patiently following me and some day you will have the privilege to read Pat’s story and know her like I do. 

Ah, youth

Scanned photo - pretty obvious, huh?

Digital is a lot better.

For years, high school graduation has occurred on the Saturday of Memorial Day Weekend in my small home town. Hard to believe that my son graduated eight years ago already. And for my baby girl, it has been four years. Where did the time go? How did they get all grown up already? Ah, but they are still so young. 

Do not let anyone look down on you because you are young. 1 Timothy 4:12a Good News Translation

I didn’t attend the graduation ceremony yesterday. Because we can never count on the weather, the ceremony is always held indoors, in the field house. With so many people crammed inside, no matter what it is like outside, after an hour or so, it is hot and stifling in there. They told me that it wasn’t too bad though yesterday.

The daughter of a friend of mine was one of the valedictorians and gave one of the speeches.  I talked to her momma last night. Her daughter stood up for what she believed in and in front of the packed field house, gave glory to her heavenly Father, thanking Him for allowing her to be there that day. Did I mention this is a public high school? 

It is Memorial Day weekend. I kind of think it should be God and country, instead of one or the other.

Most misunderstood cat

 Friday evening, when my kinship kid was over, I had some planting to finish up in the garden. I turned her loose with my camera. She went on a photo-shoot with Fred. Thank goodness for the digital era.

 Fred must be the world's most misunderstood cat. Sometimes he's friendly, other times he's a snob. And sometimes he's outright mean. I never know what is in his head.
















We think that is because his mom abandoned him and his two siblings. The kittens were raised by the father of one of my daughter's friends. This man has the physique of my husband, which is probably why Fred would only snuggle up to my husband for a long time.

 I never know anymore who (or what) Fred might snuggle up to. When my daughter still lived at home, Fred would go in her room and drag her clothes around the house. Now he just tends to twist the rugs into a bunch.

But what can we do? He's our cat for life.

Do you need a new paint job?

 I had the little red wagon out last week to help me with some gardening. It sure looks like it has seen better days.

Your beauty should not come from outward adornment, such as elaborate hairstyles and the wearing of gold jewelry or fine clothes. Rather, it should be that of your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God’s sight.

1 Peter 3:3-4 New International Version

One Sunday morning in the fall of 2003, I heard our town’s fire whistle blare while I was sitting in church. I said a prayer, as I always do when I hear sirens or see emergency vehicles with lights flashing, for the people involved. After church, I taught my Sunday school class and then went home without any further thought of the fire alarm.

When I pulled in the yard, my son Nick met me at the car. I was oblivious, as usual, when I got out of the car, and said, “what?” to him. He took my face in his hands and turned my head in the other direction. There, behind our garage, was what was left of an old storage shed that had been on our property since way before we bought it. The previous owner had left behind lots of junk in that shed. Over the years we had cleaned most of it out, replacing it with our own junk.

And now, whoever’s junk it was had been burned up in a fire. Luckily Nick had been home and seen the flames. He threw one bucket of water on the shed, I think, before he realized it was a hopeless cause and that he needed to call for help.

Most of the contents of the shed were destroyed or not salvageable. The little red wagon, though it still has some issues, doesn’t look too bad with a new coat of paint. I fill it with my gardening things as I plant my plants around the yard. The push lawnmower however did not fair so well. It still works, but no one ever got around to giving it a paint job. And the handles which melted in the heat of the fire? The duct tape we wrapped around them didn’t really do the trick.

 Like the red wagon and the lawn mower, we go through our share of disasters too. Lucky for us, whether we are the wagon or the mower, whether we come through our catastrophes requiring only a paint job or much more, God will be there for us. He doesn’t care what we look like on the outside, he sees who we are on the inside. 

What's your "ah"?

“Have you noticed how the pebbles of the road are polished and pure after the rain? And the flowers? No word can describe them. One can only murmur an ‘ah’ of admiration . . . One should understand the ‘ah’ of things.” A master of Zen Buddhism

My freshly-planted flowers sure have their “ah” now. Give it a couple months for my brown thumb to turn them into “blah”.

Dino approaching middle-age

Dino was at the vet's last week for his yearly checkup. His doctor told him that he has put on some weight, but since he is approaching middle-age (he's only five!), we should expect him to put on a few pounds a year. Funny, my doctor doesn't tell me that! And even though I am 50, my doctor better not tell me that I am middle-age.

Since he's getting so old, perhaps we should get Dino a chair of his own on the deck. Oh, that's right, he already thinks that everything is his.

He obviously also thinks he is too good to check out the new fire-pit that Daddy put in today. 

Being as he is so old now, do you supposed he is checking out the flowers, trying to tell me which ones he wants at his funeral?

All I know is that this pup better live a long, long time. I don't know how I could get through a day without his goofy mug in my face. Me and my husband are blessed to have him as part of our family.