Sacrificial Love

It’s Valentine’s Day—a time to share hearts, flowers, chocolates, and words about romantic love. Just like every other female, I like that stuff.  But the best gifts I ever received were not perishable like flowers and chocolates, but touched and changed my life in ways I never imagined. Three times when I was in desperate need, I received three amazing gifts of sacrificial love.

The word sacrificial is described in the dictionary as: “the act of giving up something that you want to keep especially in order to get or do something else or to help someone.”

My first experience with sacrificial love occurred when I was 21 years old, and found myself struggling to make sense of my life and wanting hope for a better future. After searching in many places, I realized that God was offering me the free gift of his sacrificial love. He gave up all the glories of heaven and came to earth as Jesus to die on cross so that I could have eternal life. All I had to do was accept His life changing gift. I now have meaning and purpose each day that I never before imagined.

Sacrificial love came again into my life when I was in my early fifties and I was facing a bleak future because of terminal liver disease. For many years I had felt a sense of impending doom knowing that my life’s time clock was rapidly ticking down. I was widowed and an empty nester and at times felt very alone as I faced a very uncertain future and a scary liver transplant. No man in his right mind marries a woman with terminal liver disease, but that is exactly what happened to me. God sent Charles into my life at just the right time. We both risked it all not knowing how long we would have together and after almost nineteen years of marriage are convinced more than ever that we made the right decision.

Two years later I received the blessing of sacrificial love again when I was admitted to the hospital to wait for a liver transplant. A family of strangers in the midst of their grief and loss made a decision to donate their daughter’s organs. My transplanted liver enabled me to regain my health and have a second chance at life. The thank you letter I wrote anonymously to my donor family could not adequately express the overwhelming emotion of gratitude that I still feel even to this day. 

I am challenged every day to show sacrificial love to those around me, so that they too can pass it on to others. Those deeds will last long after February 14 has come and gone.

You can read the rest of my story in my memoir “Born Three Times–A New Life, A New Liver, A New Love.” 

Order it from Amazon at http://www.amazon.com/Born-Three-Times-Life-Liver-ebook/dp/B00A3UBK9C/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1423938011&sr=1-1&keywords=Born+Three+Times

"Snow" Back Thursday

One of the most popular posts on Facebook is Throwback Thursday. People usually post photos taken in their younger years, which is a fun way of creating an online gallery of their lives. In honor of the Snow Blizzard that bore down on my home state of New York this week, I thought I thought I’d share some “snow” back memories from my years growing up in the Empire State. 

I spent the first six years of my life in a very small town (maybe 300 people) one mile from the Canadian border in upper New York State.  Winter was always a challenging time for my family, but as a kid I enjoyed it thoroughly. Even in the winter I loved to play with my cousins on my grandparents’ front porch. The snow dripping from the roof onto the porch overhang would refreeze at night and produce amazing stalactite and stalagmite icicles as big as six inches around and three or four feet long. We would break off a length of ice to hold in our mittens to suck on and sometimes to use as a sword. We totally ignored the taste of roof soot in our Popsicle.

The annual Sugar Social at the Methodist Church was a much anticipated event. In March when the maple sap was rising in the trees, it was collected in buckets, then boiled down to make thick syrup. Fresh snow was gathered in big metal pans and the syrup was poured on the snow instantly making maple syrup taffy—a delicious treat. 

I fought many battles from the snow forts I helped to construct. A mound of snowballs was stored for the inevitable snowball fight that would follow. It was mostly the boys against the girls and sometimes I was on the winning side.

I moved away from that rural lifestyle and eventually ended up in Georgia where snow is an exception and not the rule. One winter I returned to the place of my birth to visit my father who was very sick with cancer. The closest airport to my small town was several hours away, so my sister and I had to drive on icy roads to reach our destination. Snow drifts covered all the surrounding farmland as far as my eye could see. The full moon rose over the horizon and cast an ethereal glow on the snow laden fields. It was a beautiful sight and a much needed reminder of God’s beauty in the midst of human suffering.

Here’s hoping for snow this year in Georgia—enough to shut down the roads for a few days, but not enough to affect the power lines. The world will stop and peace and quiet will prevail until the temperature rises again. 

A Bible verse about snow:  Isaiah 55:10-11 "For as the rain and the snow come down from heaven, And do not return there without watering the earth And making it bear and sprout, And furnishing seed to the sower and bread to the eater; So will My word be which goes forth from My mouth; It will not return to Me empty, Without accomplishing what I desire, And without succeeding in the matter for which I sent it.”

Chills, Pills & Bills

Hal Borland, Author and New York Times journalist once said:

“Summer is a promissory note signed in June,

Its long days spent and gone before you know it,

and due to be repaid next January.”

With the temperatures in the single digits and the flu knocking on our door, I wished I had bottled the blue skies and warm temperatures of last year’s June and saved it for this year’s January. A friend posted on Facebook that she wasn't leaving her house until the temperature exceeded her age. I responded that I would see her in May.

The last time I ventured out in the bitter cold was to take my late bloomer husband to “urgent care” and then to the drugstore to stand in line for our doses of Tamiflu. He's sick but I am taking the anti-viral as preventative medication. After all somebody has to make the Chicken Soup.

 January is normally one of my favorite months of the year. The short-cold days are really a blessing enabling me to concentrate on my ought-to-do list. After the busyness of the holidays, I like to regroup and organize my dysfunctional house. The pantry, drawers, and closets are badly in need of being cleaned out. The problem is deciding what comes first. There is so much to do, I am easily distracted and flit from one project to another. As a result nothing gets done completely—just enough that I can call it quits and live with the mess a while longer.

One of my biggest chores is organizing our 2014 bills and paperwork so that we can begin estimating our quarterly taxes. I’d rather get a root canal and the cost wouldn't be much different. Then I get to shred a box full of papers containing personal information. My office will look like it snowed in there by the time I’m done.

My foremost desire for 2015 involves two more rhyming words: "Quills" and "Stills." I want to pick up my “Quill” and finish writing my latest book, then organize the boxes of “Stills” begging to be put into scrapbooks and digitized.  But first I shall turn on the fireplace, fix a cup of hot tea, and enjoy the “Thrill” of having a warm house and the good health to enjoy all the blessings of January.

The Remains of the Day

Why is it a surprise to wake up the day after Christmas and be a little overwhelmed by the remains of the day? So much effort and preparation has gone into making a holiday to remember, the ordinary things of life have been neglected. Now it’s time to “face the music.” I have yet to figure out how people have enough time and energy to rush to the after Christmas sales. I've seen enough malls and stores to last awhile. However, I am tempted to visit online stores and spend my gift cards. But first I must deal with household clutter, leftover food, and paperwork. I tell myself it will be easier to tackle the unpleasant if I dwell on all the joyful and fun events of the past few weeks.

Then I remember, there are only five days left in the month of December and the beginning of the New Year. Writing my last blog post of the year suddenly seems much more important that cleaning up all the clutter. So I back away from the broom and mop and try to get my creative juices flowing.

The lead up to the holidays started on Veteran’s Day weekend when Frieda’s son and family came from Toronto, Canada for a pre-Thanksgiving visit. Since the Canadian school holidays are different than ours, we had to celebrate earlier than usual. Did you know that the Veteran’s Day sales are as good as Black Friday sales? We ate and shopped until I dropped. During the next few weekends we had visits from my nieces and grandchildren from Charles’ side of the family. At Thanksgiving, Frieda’s college-age granddaughter came to visit. More shopping, cooking, and eating concluded with the realization there were only 28 days until Christmas. And you know the rest of the story – four more weeks of shopping, cooking, and eating. 

The remains of the day are looking pretty good right now. The leftovers mean I have at least a two day reprieve from cooking; the household clutter will eventually be put in order and I have a warm, comfortable house to keep it in. The receipts will get organized and there is enough money to pay the bills. Soon all of that will be history, but the warm glow from being with family and friends will last long after the ball drops on New Year’s Eve.

Thanks for following my blog “Two Late Bloomers” this past year. As I enter my third year of posting, I continue to be challenged to write fresh and interesting material. Your feedback is always appreciated. My goal is to do more writing in 2015. What’s on your agenda for the New Year?

A Christmas Tree Lesson

Childhood Christmas memories make us feel nostalgic this time of year. My childhood memory was traumatic and triumphant at the same time. I didn't really appreciate its value until later in life. It proves to me that God wastes nothing in our lives if we allow Him to work His will in us.

A Christmas Tree Lesson

I stood on the shore of Gull Pond watching the last hurrah of summer. The trees in this picturesque place were bathed in the glorious fall colors of red, orange, and gold. A perfect mirror image reflected in the sparkling waters. My eyes fixated on a beautiful sugar maple and a tear trickled down my cheek. It occurred to me that this might be my last time to see this beautiful place. One by one I watched the red leaves float on the autumn breeze and skim the surface of the water. My life was ebbing away just like the life in that tree. 

I had survived a rough year, with numerous hospitalizations and near death experiences and there were more challenges to overcome. I had come to my family’s camp in the mountains for a time of recuperation. Soon I would be added to the national organ transplant waiting list. There was no guarantee I would receive a liver transplant in time to save my life. I wanted to be optimistic about my chances, but I was having a pity party. My prayer was short and to the point, “God show me your will and your plan for what remains of my life.”

Immediately my mind flashed back forty years. I stood in our living room looking at our Christmas tree. Like any ten-year old child, I awaited Christmas with great anticipation. All my hopes and dreams were wrapped and ready under the tree, but the tree itself was unwrapped and almost naked. 

The bitter cold winds and lake effect snows had blasted my town on the shores of Lake Ontario. It was an unusually cold winter and the old oil furnace in our upstairs apartment worked overtime. My mother’s asthma and my dry skin suffered that year and the Christmas tree didn't like it either. My bedroom was next to the living room and at night I could hear the steady drip, drip of needles falling from our newly decorated tree. By Christmas morning dead needles and shattered ornaments covered the presents. 

I was devastated since our family tradition was for the tree to stay decorated and on display until well after New Year. Our naked tree just wouldn't do since I couldn't show off my tree and gifts to my friends. I carried on so that my father agreed to go look for a new tree. He drove the old car around town until we saw several trees at a roadside stand. A farmer saw us coming and probably wondered about folks out looking for a Christmas tree on Christmas morning. It was my job to explain why we were there and only had five dollars to spend. “No charge!” the farmer said as he loaded the tree into the trunk of the car. My father sputtered and fumed as he dragged the tree up the stairs and mounted it to the tree stand. I didn’t dare complain as I swept up piles of dead needles, strung the lights, and hung the unbroken ornaments on the tree.

A squawking flock of geese diving into Gull Pond brought me back to reality. I suddenly realized that like that tree so long ago; I too was on life support. Just as my earthy Father had saved my Christmas by helping find a new tree, I believed that my heavenly Father would spare my life long enough to get a new liver. I left the peaceful setting of Gull Pond with renewed hope and a confident faith in God’s provision.

Two years later when the springtime trees were in full bloom, I received my donor liver and a second chance at life.

My memoir:  Born three Times—A New Life, A New Liver, A New Love tells this story and many others from my life. You can purchase my book from Amazon.com in either paperback or e-book format. It is an inspirational Christmas gift for anyone on your list.

http://www.amazon.com/Born-Three-Times-Life-Liver/dp/1462403875/ref=sr_1_1_twi_2?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1418739200&sr=1-1&keywords=Born+Three+Times+A+New+Life%2C+A+New+Liver%2C+A+New+Love

Count Your Many Blessings

During this Thanksgiving week a song has been stuck in my head.  It was written by Rev. Johnson Oatman in 1897, but it is still very relevant today. All of us have so much to be thankful for.

From time to time I have shared an update on our new Towne View Baptist church building. Our congregation finally moved in the first week of November and shared our first Thanksgiving meal in our new facility last Sunday. We were all asked to contribute to a Thanksgiving Tree. Scattered on each table were colorful leaves and markers. Everyone was asked to write something they were thankful for on each leaf—not just generic stuff like food or family, but something specific. 

The children gathered the leaves and taped them on the tree as a reminder of all our many blessings. I wrote on my leaf “organ transplants and donors.”  I wouldn’t be here without that second chance at life.

So my challenge to you is to find something specific in your life that is a unique blessing to you and take time to thank God for that blessing not only at Thanksgiving but all year long. Here are a few words from the song chorus that inspired this blog and a UTube link if you would like to sing along.

“Count your blessings, name them one by one,
Count your blessings, see what God hath done!
Count your blessings, name them one by one,
 And it will surprise you what the Lord hath done.”

www.youtube.com/watch?v=9fMjgS4vu4o

Here are photos of our new church building and our Blessings Tree. Have a wonderful and blessed Thanksgiving!

Our Far Flung Family

It’s the time of year when many families are planning large family gatherings and times of celebration. Since Charles and I have only a few family members who live close by, our holiday events are usually small. This year Christmas came early and all before Thanksgiving! Frieda’s son, Stuart and his family visited from Toronto, Canada on Veterans’ Day weekend.  His wife, Ruth, along with granddaughters Rose and Belle, really enjoyed the Atlanta area shopping and filled their suitcases to the limit of their customs’ allotment. Then they filled their bellies with Chick-Fil-A, barbecue, and Mexican food which are not available in Toronto. They safely flew home before the first major blast of winter hit their area. 

Four days later my niece Sally, from Rochester, New York, came for a visit since her husband was in Atlanta for a convention. We had lunch with my other niece, Sandy, and enjoyed travelling down memory lane. They left Monday just as the lake effect blizzard was crossing the Great Lakes. They have been stranded in a Motel 6 ever since with their car buried under massive mounds of snow. They are staying warm, but food for two days was limited to the contents of a vending machine. I just received word that a McDonald's in the area opened with walking distance of the motel. With no winter clothes between them it was a very cold trek, but at least they got some hot food. It’s probably two more days before they can travel.

Today Charles’ grandson, Jesse, flies in from Hawaii to join his wife and three girls. He was able to get leave from the Air Force and, hopefully, can stay through Thanksgiving. They are staying elsewhere, but will visit with us this weekend.

Then Frieda’s college-age granddaughter, Marcella, takes a break from her studies at Texas A&M and arrives here a week from today. We will have a great time catching up with her life and doing some Black Friday shopping. 

It’s an exciting time for us to be ground zero for so many family members. This is one year I will sail through the Christmas season very thankful to have been so blessed by the presence of our far flung family.

During the holidays there is a special joy in sharing with those who hold a special place in our hearts.  Psalm 128:5 (TLB) “May the Lord continually bless you with heaven’s blessings as well as with human joys.”

                                    Nieces Sandy DuVall, Sally Weidert, and Frieda enjoying lunch