Amazing Grace… how sweet the sound

This is a speech that I wrote after being asked to speak at a church in Cleveland, TN.  It was written shortly after Jim died, within a month or so, and was integral in my healing from this shock… God is faithful… and He is worthy.  I wanted to share this, as there may be another new widow out there who needs to know that God will not forsake them… no matter what

 
Hello.  Thank you for having me with you today.  My name is Gina Minton Kearns, and I am, among other things, a Christian, a photographer, writer and greeting card designer.  I live in a very small town in Southwest Virginia, on my parent’s farm.  The fields stretch out in front of the house, all the way to the road, nearly a half a mile.  The mountains loom behind it and rolling hills bypass it on either side.  It is a peaceful place.  I love it there.  I’ve loved it there since the first time I ever sat foot on it, before my Dad decided to buy it and move there.  He later, after my Jim and me were married, invited us to move by him on his land.  We went and that’s where we spent the last few years.  Jim and I would have celebrated our tenth anniversary this year.    He was called home two weeks and two days before our anniversary.  It was an awesome shock and completely unexpected.  I really can‘t think of a time in my life when the shock has literally brought me to my knees.  Coming home, expecting to find him doing something around the house, and find him dead over his coffee instead.  I remember thinking, all in a matter of seconds, “well, he’s fallen asleep at his table” and before that thought was complete “he wouldn’t do that”.  And that was true.  He wasn’t asleep.  He was dead.  Had been dead for the several hours I had been trying to reach him.    I can’t say that I was really worried about him when I couldn‘t reach him.  I assumed that he had gone somewhere and forgotten his phone, or as a worse case scenario, he had fallen or become disabled somehow while tending his peppers.  It never occurred to me that he could be dead.  It never once, not even when I was thinking of all the things that could have happened to him, not once, crossed my mind.

I went through, then, what you’d expect:  weeping, wailing, oh-noing, questioning, screaming, crying.  All of it.  Then the funeral home came and took him away.  He was buried in the little cemetery of our beloved church, in a beautiful place that watches the sunset through one of the most beautiful trees I have ever seen.  It’s like it was sewn there, by the birds or the wind, for Jim.  God knows all things.  

I love trees.  I love the sound they make in the summer, when they are full of leaves and the wind blows them.  I love the sound of them in the Autumn, when the leaves are drying and rustling in the wind – then blowing into the air to  make a colorful rainfall of leaves and falling to a carpet that smells earthy and wonderful… and the lonesome whistling as it weaves through the bare branches of wintertime.  Our lives are very similar to that of a tree through one full cycle of seasons.  We start out new and bursting with life.  Growing strong in the sunlight and the rain and all the other blessings of God… and then a season passes and we are mature, having children, bearing fruit for the next generations.  Thriving on health and fullness of life, dancing wildly in the winds and the rains after toiling in the heat of the day… and then another season passes and the children are grown, the seed mature, and gone to their own lives.  Our strength begins to falter and the winds are much harder to withstand.  By the time another season passes, we will be old and waiting for the final call of God when we can give up our suffering and be with him forever.  Bare and naked before the Lord, yet beautiful in a battle-scarred body and our faith… knowing that after another season, there will be rebirth into the place where there will be no death.  God is faithful.

It was hard losing Jim.  He was a precious gift to me from God… a gift that helped to nurture my spirit and soul as we worshipped the Jesus we loved together.  My heart was heavy, too heavy for me to bear alone, so God sent a blessing to me far beyond my wildest imaginings.   I’d like to share my story with you for it is beautiful to me how God works.  He has no care for time, for He is time… all time.  Anyway, I had cleaned out Jim’s closet as I wanted someone to get some use out of his clothes.  They are too good to waste, taking space, that if allowed, would become shrine-like and sacred.  Nothing short of what is God’s should be considered sacred.  Some of them hadn’t been worn in a long time and they smelled stale, so I washed them.  It was on the way to the clothesline with the washed clothes that God spoke to me.  We often think that we can only hear from God if we are in church or during prayer.  But God is with us always, including when we are not in church and not praying.  He is with us when we are hurting and sorrowful.  When we are guilt-ridden and burdened by the trials of this life.   So on the back porch with a basket full of wet clothes, God reached out to me.  There a blooming flower caught my eye.  A beautiful, perfectly blooming, orange calendula.  All the other flowers in the surrounding pots were dead.  The frost had killed them and they had turned brown and stood in the pots like dead trees that had never fallen.  It was then that I noticed that although the bloom had caught my eye, I could only see a tiny corner of the orange bloom, and I realized at that moment, that was how I felt.  Hidden and lost behind a forest of pain and sorrow… grief and guilt… tears and tears and tears and tears… slumping from the heaviness of the burden I had been given to bear.  I moved forward a bit and could see a bit more of the bloom.  The dead zinnia stalks with their dead seedpods were still the most prominent thing in my sight, yet there was more of the bloom than there was before.  And it was here that my journey started.
 God spoke to me through sights and feelings.  I used my camera and could feel the urging of Holy Spirit as I snapped off the photographs that were coinciding with the moments of my life I was being shown.  All the while, with each new vantage point, the days of my future were running through my head and my heart.  Not the actual day, but the essence of it with the weight of the burden I was dragging.  It was in real time.  I knew what I would feel.  I felt what I would feel.  I felt weightless and free as I lived in the moments that God was showing me. There are many trials that we face in life that drag us to our bellies, with our face in the dirt.  Obstacles that seem unsurpassable and burdens that feel unbearable.  And they are unsurpassable and unbearable if we try to get through them ourselves.  But when we turn to God to lift us up and hold us until we are able to stand, the path becomes clear and the burden lighter.  God showed this to me on that day, on the back porch, with the laundry basket at my feet.   

It never occurred to me that I would have to bear two deaths when Jim passed away.  The physical death paled in comparison to the second death.  Though both were painful, it was second, enduring death that left me shattered, broken and lost as I struggled to grasp the magnitude of enduring the reality of losing that part of him that merged with my spirit and made me feel part of the whole.  It is the knowledge that your spirit, though not broken, is severely bent and seemingly irrevocably sorrowed.  It is now that there is only the slightest glimmer of who you are behind all the pain, sorrow and weeping agony that plagues us through silent, lonely nights and empty mornings…  But after a season, although we will still be hidden behind the shadow of their missing spirit, there will be more of us.  Day by day, week by week, a battle fought hard and bitter, though at times so beautiful, the Father will continue to hold us up until our strength returns.  
 
After another season, those things which made us unique will begin to show.  The loss will still be there at the center of our heart but our spirit will slowly be spreading its wings… then at some point, there will be more of our spirit shining through and less of the pain and sorrow that ravaged it.  Although the pain and sorrow will still be there, we will be able to face it, each time, a little better than the last – for as long as we travel in this world, the sorrows and anguish will come unexpectedly… but by then, we will have become stronger than we’ve ever been.  God will have refined our faith in Him and each refining gives us strength and faith beyond what we had before.  God doesn’t want our losses and sorrows to break us.  Though we may cry, weep, pray, scream, question, beg, bargain and crash, in the end you need to choose to live your life in peace, following the roads and dreams that have culminated over a lifetime to make you special… that part you lost that completed the whole, just like the parts of others you’ve lost over the years never left – it is simply smothered, for now, underneath the grief and sorrow, but it will re-emerge in you, and through Grace, you will begin to feel whole again.  For after all, to everything there is a season and a time for every purpose under heaven.  Ecclesiastes 3:1

When we are faced with trials, sorrows, tribulations, temptations and the myriad of other things we will come across as we walk through this life, God doesn’t want us to face them alone.  We are like a candle, whose flame has not been lit.  Once lit, we can either flare out or flare up.  If we flare out, we have noting… but if we flare up, we have hope.  If the trials of life put out our light, we are no good to anyone, especially to God, since with guilt, hurt or betrayal, what more, except those curses, do we have if we have no light.  Instead, we should flare up to God.  Ask him for understanding if it is his will, but don’t give up hope.  For salvation is our hope.  And that is more important than everything else combined.   So as we sorrow or grieve for that which haunts us, we should rejoice as well, for we are children of God and have been saved by the blood of his perfect lamb.  For though this world is just a little while, Salvation is eternal, never ending.  I can’t even imagine never-ending.  I’ve tried.  But in my never-ending, there’s always an ending.  I cannot fathom something without end.  How vast – more than vast- the ocean and earth are vast, but they have ends.  Salvation without end is greater than my mind can bring clear.  Do you really and truly believe all that God has said about seasons, forgiveness, love, everlasting, salvation and eternity?  If so, then flare up for Him so that others can see His light through you.  As God said in Isaiah 1:18-20:  “Come now, let us reason together” says the Lord.  Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow, though they are red like crimson, they shall be like wool.  If you are willing and obedient, you will eat the best from the land; but if you resist and rebel, you will be devoured by the sword.

Call on the Father who loves you more than anything…  Enough to watch His beautiful boy die a horrific death so that you could live with Him in glory.  He only asks for your obedience and acceptance of His son.  As we enter the season of celebration of the Holy Virgin Birth, call out to God to be with you.  He will never, ever leave you.  And He won’t, as we have done to Him so many times, let us down.  
 

a broken road, a mighty God and a multitude of blessings…

It is hard for me to believe that nearly a year has passed since I came home from work to find that my sweet Jim had died.  Although it was obvious that he didn’t suffer, simply by the lack of struggle evident in the room, (that was  and continues to be such an incredible blessing) the shock of finding him that way shook me to the core.  I have relived that moment a million times, that moment of opening the door and seeing him with his head on his little table, thinking for a split second that he was sleeping and then knowing immediately that he was not.  I have found, through this past year, that there is no one like Jim.  He would get excited over the tiniest event, clap his hands each time I would call out “I sold a card”, look at me and see beyond what his eyes could see and speak right to my heart, making me feel beautiful and special… he would tell me how late it’s gotten and that I should go to bed and not say a word when I refused to eat my favorite food because, for some reason, I now hated it, and most profoundly,  clasp hands with me as we prayed together every night.  He encouraged Taylor to get involved in the band and her life was changed, for the better, because of it. Not a day goes by that I don’t thank God for sending this beautiful soul into my life.  We were two spirits, bruised and battered by life, but not broken, scarred but not shattered and, ultimately, tied by the bond of love, first for our Father, and then for each other… (I will always carry the image of standing at the alter with him as we exchanged our vows,  and looking out the window to see the lone bagpiper walking through the cemetery… the one where Jim is now buried…) and through that love, God spoke to both of us and helped us grow as Christians, as people, as family… He used us independently to heal one another and to grow closer to Jesus… to actively seek the divine will of God. Jim had no family to speak of, so he adopted mine and loved them as much as he would have his own…  He had great respect for my parents and, though it took some getting used to for him, being a city boy and all, he loved living in the country…  I spent hours, days, weeks crying and mourning… I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t eat and I had no desire (which frightened me a bit) to photograph anything.  There were months when not a single greeting card was created, I went through Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year’s, birthdays, vacation, big winter snows, an incredible spring, flooding summer rains, births, deaths and re-awakenings… all without the man who helped me to see myself as one of God’s creatures and to trust, without hesitation, in the power of faith.  Now, the year of firsts is nearly over and I find, that of all the things I have faced over the past  year, the anniversary of his death has me trembling.  I realize now that I have deluded myself into believing that once the year was up, there would be some veil that would lift from my heart and I could go forward, knowing that I had made it through the “firsts”.  But, that was a lie… for there are so many other firsts that I will face if God sees fit to leave me on this earth.  If He so wills it, I will go to Ecuador to photograph the people and the places there… I think how excited Jim would be for me and the tears pour from my eyes…  He understood so well how much photographing God’s people and creation meant to me and he prayed, as did I, that God’s will would be done and that if He saw fit, I could see His magnificent creation Through the Eyes of the Spirit when I looked through the lens of my Pentax that He provided for me… It is so hard sometimes to look at photographs I’ve taken and not have him to share them with… not have his dry wit and helpful criticism to help me grow, both as a photographer and a person.  I thought, that as the anniversary of his death drew near, I would begin to relax and fall into some kind of pattern that I could find comfort in… but the things I found comfort in don’t feel the same now that Jim is not here to share them with me.  My heart is breaking all over again as I face this last moment… one we did not share… and though tears blur my vision, I know that the beautiful Holy Spirit will guide me through the pitfalls, triumphs and failures of this life…  and I will go forward bold and confident, knowing that my God has a plan for me… but I will still miss my Jamie… te amo my dear one…

Just a short walk

Earlier tonight, i commented on a post by Janet… she had told of helping her older neighbors by walking their dog… that’s all i know about the entire thing, but it planted a seed in my head and the words just tumbled out, almost faster than I could write them… and my Father showed me a morning with my dad, when he was older and more feeble… anyone who knows him will recognize him… and anyone who doesn’t know him personally will recognize him… because his generation is everywhere…  we just usually choose not to see it… Father, help me treat others as I want my parents to be treated… with love and compassion, help and healing, conversation and company… let me serve you, LORD…. Anyway, without the Holy Spirit, my words alone cant possibly do it justice, so, if you’re willing, whether you believe in it or not, try to see it through the eyes of the spirit… here goes…
The wind rattled his bones just as hard as it rattled the windows, the shingles, the siding and the half-broken porch swing, dangling by one chain, that he just wasn’t able to fix.  Not thinking about the things he could no longer do… at least trying not to think about them, he took a deep breath and began the process of getting out of bed.  What, once upon a few decades ago, would have been quick and easy was now slow and painful.  He had tried looking at getting up in the morning like yanking off a bandage… quick and painful, but over soon… well, it wasn’t quick, but it was painful… and the soreness lasted for three days… so he’d stuck to slow and easy so he could get downstairs to breakfast.  He looked at his wife, still sleeping, and thought of how different it used to be… how more able he was to protect her and take care of her… of course that didn’t diminish his love and devotion to her… she was a strong and steady force in his life and he knew he didn’t want to live without her and selfishly, yet shamelessly, prayed, as he had ever since he laid eyes on her,  that he would go first…  he shook his head, a habit he’d picked up along the way, and took his first unsteady steps of the morning and went in the direction of the bathroom to wash his face and stuff before he went downstairs for the day.  He thought of the bathroom downstairs by the kitchen and remembered toying with the idea of expanding it into a full size bath.. of thinking how convenient it would be… he went back down the hall, passing his bedroom on the way and noticed that she had turned over… knowing she would be up soon and looking for some coffee, he made his way down the stairs, looking out over the foggy meadow toward the road… beautiful, he thought… he moved into the kitchen, glancing, as he put the kettle on to heat, toward the tiny, useless bathroom… but that was a long time ago and he couldn’t do it now even if he still wanted to… and that galled him some, still.  That, even though he does want to, he wants to very badly, he can’t…  he stirred cream into his coffee, then looked toward the stairs to make sure Flo wasn’t there, then put extra.. he sipped and sighed, then went back to his thoughts… he can’t expand the bathroom, he can’t fix the roof, he can’t mow the yard, he can’t drive… he can barely walk, even on level ground… sometimes, where his garden used to grow, he stands and gazes toward the mountain… longing to walk a ways so he can feel the breath of the wind on his face that he can’t get here on this flat ground… shaking his head,  he turned toward the east window and watched the day burst open… nothing he can do with it now anyway… he’s just too old… he feels the depression, always just a breath away, threatening to swallow him if he’ll just give in… but give in?  no way…  he’ll be there as long as his time lasts.. and when he’s done, he’ll go to Heaven… he’s never doubted that… no, he murmurs to himself, he’d never doubted that, but he also hadn’t looked ahead to reality… to becoming feeble… he just wished he were stronger… like in the old days…  But, there was trouble in the days of strength, as there is with anytime… and as he stood in the kitchen with the light of the sunrise pouring into the window, he realized that, though his body is weaker, his mind, his heart and his spirit are stronger than ever… He nods at the day and walks through the house toward the front door.  He heard the first bang of the hammer as he opened the screened door and walked onto the porch…  he heard the footsteps overhead as his roof was repaired before winter… he wasn’t able and he wasn’t rich… and God, faithful God, had, as always, provided… He thanked Him for the young men who lived nearby and had offered to do some work around the house… they were photographers and were willing to trade mountain time for hard labor… to help him and his wife  It was, he realized as he listened to the good-natured banter of youth, a good day to walk… just a little ways… into the mountain… he yanked on the new chain on the porch swing, now hanging sturdy and straight,as he opened the screened door then went back in the kitchen, fixed two cups of coffee, both with just a touch of cream, and creaked his way back up the stairs to see if his wife was up to a walk…  just a short walk, of course…

Remembering to remember so that I will never forget…

on this day, september 11, every american, everyone who knows an american, everyone who loves an american, everyone who has visited america, american children too young to understand and the old and dying… we all remember… as clear as it was nine years, the unfolding events of the day and the heroic actions of people who would do anything for their loved ones and country, the ones who gave no thought to their own safety, are etched with the burn of horror and and unimaginable sadness that this country has not had to face in a long time and a pride for country which can never be distinguished…  in a world where peace, go-green, protection, family and love are the catch words, it seems impossible that our land and our home and everything we hold dear could be so vulnerable… and then, the images of those who gave everything and more, the neighbors, loved ones and friends, firemen, police officers, emt’s, workers from every state and several countries… christians, wiccans, catholics, muslims, black, white, mothers, fathers, sons, sisters, brothers, daughters, grandparents, grandchildren, nieces, nephews, aunts, uncles and friends… the US Military, restaurant owners and hotel proprietors… churches and hospitals, doctors and nurses, daycare workers, secretaries, drug addicts, prostitutes, bums and thieves…they all joined hands, not caring what background or ethnicity the hand they were clasping was…   people who had never given the USA a second thought were held, spellbound, as the true strength of this great country became evident… and it was immediately realized by everyone, everywhere, that weak, timid and vulnerable, we weren’t, but strong, resilient, patriotic and full of love for our fellow Americans, we were… and with the blood, sweat and prayers of us, those and the other ones, we rallied and now, these nine years later, we remember… and we will continue to remember… for God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind ~ 2 Timothy 1:7 (KJV)
History does not long entrust the care of freedom to the weak or the timid ~
Dwight D. Eisenhower

My God, My God

I went on a bear hunt
but I did not see a bear
I saw her poop and claw marks
so I know she had been there
and what I did see humbled me
and it made me stop and sigh
at my Father’s amazing creation
and I cannot fathom why
that such a God who has all power
in both sky and depth of sea
would care so much and love so deep
that He’d sacrifice His SON for me
so here upon His ridge top
with the sound of birds and wind
I lift my hand and praise Him
for His glory, once again
©gmk 9/6/2010

Looking for a bear

So today, I went into the mountain with the sole purpose of seeking out and photographing a bear.  I used my newfound bravery and took the Ranger all the way up to the cabin.  Dad told me to be careful as the road was rough due to the recent flash flood… well, dad was wrong…. the road wasn’t rough as there wasn’t a road… multiple ditches with huge rocks bursting through the ground… it was an arduous and dangerous trip, but I took it slow and tried to maneuver it the way I thought Dad would.  I was really surprised when I saw the cabin.  It has a covered porch which fronts the cabin on the east side.  Inside, there is a wood stove, couch, bunk-beds, two recliners, a table and chairs and a full-size gas stove that will run on propane.  It is quite a little getaway… So, after photographing the marks on the apple tree that were obviously claw marks and judging from the size, it’s a very safe bet that it’s a bear, I made my way around the outside of the cabin.  The place was quiet and very, very secluded.  Since there was no bear at or around the cabin, I went behind and started down the road at the northwest corner of the “yard”.  As I started down, i took note of the steepness of it and though it was quite steep, I side-stepped a lot and thought only fleetingly of walking back up (BIG mistake), and made it to a place that opened up to something you read about in story books… i expected, instead of a hundred years old apple orchard, to see a castle…  I can’t explain it but I felt like I was anywhere and everywhere… like I was going a thousand places just by standing in that perfect place… it was amazing, it was beautiful…  and I want very badly to go back…  but I want to hike to the orchard from the barn because that hill back to the cabin, the one I said was steep…?   Well, that hill is a killer.  I had to stop four times just to keep myself from falling from sheer muscle fatigue.  I knew, without a doubt, that if the bear decided at that moment that this hard-breathing, sweating humanesque creature looked tasty, I was toast… as I was just barely making it.  I remember saying, when the cabin came into view, “Praise Mary and all the Saints”.  It was the first time in a long time that I was so near exhaustion, I wanted to cry… gonna walk on that hill (in moderation, mind you) till I can do it in one sweep.  I thought of Dad while I was huffing and puffing my way up that incline…  I thought, Dad will say “what, that hill?  Why I’ve walked that hill dozens of times”.  Guess what he said when I got home..?  yep lol.  I love good surprises, but at the same time, i find comfort in predictability…

I’m even more uncool than I thought…. sigh

Ok… so have you ever harped and harped at someone for being easily influenced and gullible?  Well, then, have you ever done that exact same thing you’d been harping about…?  Hmmm.  I did.  Did it just today as a matter of fact.  Actually, I suppose the actual catalyst happened a few years ago, not long after Jim and I moved over here to the country.  We still had dial-up at that time, so the very slightest thing would excite us.  Since we were afraid we would shrivel and fade away before the dial-up would take us somewhere we could prove what we were reading, if it sounded reasonable or cool, we’d look into it.  Now, this particular thing, Jim didn’t think would happen… as a matter of fact, I remember him saying “Gina, that is simply not possible”.  Well, what did he know?  I had read it on the internet, hadn’t I.  So, irregardless of his nay-saying, I began to plan the moment of this great phenomenon that I would only see once in my lifetime.  I began to plan the menu and think about, even though I don’t care about it, a nice wine.  We were going to picnic in the hayfield and watch this amazing sight unfold.  I was, of course, going to have my camera.  So time passed and so did Jim…  i would love to hear him tell me he was right without being a jerk about it.  Tonight, I was at the home of two of my dear friends, Len and Randy.  I told them, very excitedly I might add, about this incredible thing that was going to happen tomorrow.  Randy, a skeptic in the best of times, was polite enough not to laugh in my face.  I wanted to prove to them that it was real, so I looked it up, where else, ON THE DROID lol…  And what I found immediately made me think of how many times I’ve complained to Dad that he is gullible and believes every email he gets… well, I can say that the crow was tough and hard to swallow, especially since I am currently a vegetarian.  People, MARS WILL NOT BE AS BIG AS THE MOON TOMORROW….  now desculpe (excuse me) while I carry on wallowing in disappointment at my own gullibility…  lo siento (I’m sorry) Dad…  0:-)

How Great Is our God – a true story

Have you ever heard a story over and over through the years and realized one day that you hadn’t really heard the story at all and had no clue what may or may not have happened.  Well, as of today, I have.  There is a story that has been told in my family for many years about a woman who was caught in a flash flood.  I guess all the recent rain and flooding brought it up…  The way I understood it  was that there was this woman who was caught in a flash flood, grabbed her kid, jumped out of the car and ran to a neighbor’s house, just as the car was washed away.  My WHOLE life, I have thought this to be the WHOLE story.  A little scary, but nothing to get goosebumps over.  At least not until tonight.  I was talking to mom on the phone and after exclaiming over the rain and puddles and streams and… well, you get the picture – she mentioned this story.  I said, as I have many times in the past, “yeah”, or something else lame like that.  But this time, I said something about the lady getting wet wading through the  water…It was then that I found out that I didn’t know Jack… or Jill either for that matter… but she gave me the real scoop… There was this lady living with her husband and little girl  up on a ridge over near where we go to church.  Driving down the side of the ridge into the valley, she was heading to work and was taking the little one, about eighteen months old, as she did every weekday, to the babysitter’s house.  It was raining, but, as I understand it, it was April… and around here, it rains in April.  Now, if you’ve ever been over in these parts, (or if you are from Ireland or Scotland) you know what rolling hills are and that often, the valley between two hills, over time and necessity, becomes a road.  That’s the way it is when you live in the rolling hills.  It is beautiful to look at, but, as mom told me this story, I realized how incredibly dangerous it could be.  But, I digress… so she was in the car driving down one of these little valley roads, and i use the term road loosely, when it started to rain harder.  She was mildly concerned but didn’t really worry because she’d driven on this road in all kinds of weather without any real trouble.  There was a creek (or a crick, depending) on one side of the road and the hills, quite steep, were on both sides…Having driven that road thousands of times going to church, I can say that it is a bit like driving in a city where you can only see the sky above you, except that it isn’t buildings on either side of you, it’s creation, which is a whole ‘nother ballgame.  Again, I digress… ANYWAY… it began to rain harder and water, which had been trickling down the hills, began to fill the ditch on one side of the car and the creek on the other.  A little further on, the heavenly storehouses of rain burst open and dumped the rain as from a bucket onto the already saturated ground.  The water running off the steep banks quickly became a waterfall of mud, rocks and debris barreling onto and over the car from the creek side.  Now, if you notice, at no point did I mention that the lady or her baby got out of the car.  They didn’t. The water was coming over the hills and onto the road so hard and fast that it pushed the car backwards several feet.  The car began to slide and turn sickly in the road and she tried desperately to turn the wheel away from the creek.  This is where God steps in… I just love it when He does that and love it more when I get to hear about it…  the tire of the car caught in the ditch and became wedged there, keeping it from flipping over into the creek. The water, even muddier than before and now full of rocks and debris, was pounding onto, and over, the top of the car.  Fearing that they would both drown if the car flipped into the creek, she rolled her window down.  This let in a deluge of water through the window.  This is the moment when she realized she was in BIG trouble.  The river of muddy water wasn’t just going over the car, it was pushing against the car with such force that she couldn’t open her door.  She was trapped, with the baby, in a car that was rapidly filling up with water.  She sat the little girl, who had been sitting in the front seat, (remember, this was over 40 years ago so there were no car seats) on the back of the seat to try to keep her out of the water, and rolled down the window on that side.  The water was running in her window and out the other side.  Hoping to let more of the water out, she leaned over and cracked the door on the baby’s side so some of the accumulating water could go out.  By this tiime, the water in the car was up to her bra.  Outside, the world had gone wild.  Lightning slashed the sky like a blade… before one strike could vanish, another one would be there to slit the sky open.  The thunder rolled down the valley like a bellowing bull… and the water continued to rise.  Mom said that at that moment, and I can just hear her saying this, she told me that we would ask Jesus to take care of us.  Time has a way of fooling you when you’re scared, but not only did the rain have to stop, but the water had to stop flowing over the car before she could even consider getting out.  After a period of time, she was able to push her door open, and get out.  The water she stepped into was a river of mud and rocks that came to her knees.  She took me out of the car, (she said this was the only time I cried… and can you blame me for not wanting to get out in that) and carrying me, walked, WALKED, through the muddy water, unable to tell where the creek or the road or the ditch were.  The rocks and debris that she couldn’t even see were there, were hitting her legs. Even so, she didn’t fall… she didn’t even stumble… God at work!!  There were rocks in the road that were bigger than the car she had been driving… in the road, I might add, where we would have been if the car hadn’t slid backward.  Her dress, underwear and bra were full of mud as she carried me, who wasn’t wet except a bit on my feet, to the house of a woman named Acklin… now it is pronounced just like I spelled it, but I have no idea if it’s spelled like it sounds.  She got to Acklin’s house and called Mamaw Daphne and told her we were stranded.  Grandaddy said he’d come on the tractor to get us.  A while later, Mamaw called back and said he couldn’t make it because there were rocks in the road that were BIGGER THAN THE TRACTOR.  So, in the front and the back, there were rocks big enough to crush the car, there was creek full of rushing water and a waterfall coming down on top of the car.  There is no reason we should have lived through that.  God pushed that car in the ditch because He knew the rocks were going to fall.  He saved us, plain and simple.  Jesus protected us, just as a frightened young mother and her little girl asked Him to.  Now I ask you…… HOW GREAT IS OUR GOD???  As I said, I’ve heard that story a million times, but until tonight, I didn’t even know the half of it. (by the way, the babysitter was Granny Minton) My mom is, by far, the bravest woman I have ever known.  And because of what she told me tonight, I feel brave and empowered myself.  I feel like I can do anything… and with the help of the same Jesus who looked out for mom and me on that flooded country road, I can.

Minton Family Reunion Pictures

As I was looking through these photographs, I was struck by something Cassandra said in one of her fb posts about wondering where the time has gone.  I found myself wondering that last night, too, when Taylor, my little baby… y’all remember her, cute little thing with curly hair… wild as a buck.. that little baby, called to tell me she was going to come home for the night from college.  She said it was because she was bored… but I know it was because she was homesick…  Anyway, I digress… enjoy the photographs and let me know what you think of them.  I’m going to really try to stick with the blog this time because I believe it’s important in a big way… i don’t know… have no choice but to wait on God to reveal His plan and to serve and worship Him while I’m waiting… My family is something that, if you were to randomly ask people on the street, exists only in fairy tales…  I know that I could call any one of them, and there are MANY, and if I needed help, they would help me in any way they could.  I know that for a fact…  we laugh, we cry and yes, of course, we fight… how could we not… we have descended from the Scots, the Irish and the German… there would be something wrong with us if we didn’t fight… but we don’t hold it against each other.  That’s the key… nobody’s perfect and everybody is going to step on my toes from time to time.  Big deal… I do plenty of stepping of my own so I consider myself living in a glass house…  again, I digress… I’m sorry..   I’m starting to remind myself of people i know… lol… and you know who you are!!!     OK… here are the pictures…