2023-11-14

My Psalm

Have you ever written your own psalm? 

By definition, a psalm is a sacred song or hymn. 

There is an entire book in the Bible that contains 150 psalms that are wonderful. 

About 10 years ago, I was challenged to write my own psalm; to voice my own worship of God. I really enjoyed the process and the quiet space I had to record my thoughts. The main reason I'm recording it here is to challenge you to write your own if you haven't tried. 

The one that I wrote so long ago, is still valuable for my life right now. A wonderful reminder in the turbulent times in which we live.

Written on September 10, 2013 as a part of a CBS retreat.


My Father, my Savior, my God;

Loving, eternal, longsuffering; You alone deserve all glory and honor.

I praise you as the One Who actually knows all when I think I already know what I need.

I praise you as the One Who leads when I think I'm already on the right path.

I praise you as the One Who paves the way when I think I've already chosen the correct direction.

I praise you as the One Who provides just what I need when I think I've already filled my barns.

I praise you as the One Who, as a part of Your plan, allows evil for a time, and builds hedges around Your children.

I praise you as the One Who knows the end from the beginning and possesses prefect perspective over what is happening now.

I praise you as the One Who is big enough to use me and my many failures for Your good and Your glory.

I praise you as the One Who 

Empowers the powerless,

Directs the directionless, 

Motivates the unmotivated,

Gives worth to the worthless.

I praise you as the One Who saves me from myself.

As I look back on what has been, and forward, wondering what will be, 

I thank You for the ability to trust You with all of it.

I praise You as my own.

My Father

My Savior

My God

Loving, eternal, longsuffering; You alone deserve all glory and honor.


 

"Then Samuel took a stone

and set it up between Mizpah and Shen.

He named it Ebenezer, saying, 'Thus far, the Lord has helped us.'"

I Samuel 7:12














2022-06-05

The Maker

 


5 Newbs looking fancy in 1989

Little brother, Bunns, is a high school teacher. When he came into this world, it never occurred to me that he would eventually have the power to influence thousands of other peoples children during his lifetime. I'm kind of glad. Knowing what the future might hold would have been frightening.



A typical little kid... protecting the neighborhood



Taking a break from influencing America's youth

He reached out recently requesting some assistance with a project that he had assigned one of the brainiac classes that he teaches. He was walking his students through an assigment to create a brief oral history  that centered on an artifact they might have in their homes. The project would involve an item and a story about that item as a part of the larger tapestry of their family's history. 

He wanted to provide an example of what he expected and asked if I would record a short description of our dad

He identified one of dad's gifts as being "a maker." Since I am so much like my father in being a "maker" as well, he asked if I would record a bit about him. I thought that preserving some memories of the man who raised me was a pretty cool way to spend an afternoon. 

There was a lot I could have said. Dad was a renassiance man who dabbled in a lot of things. But he was definitely a creative type with the ability to envision a final product and the steps to achieve it. 

He was good with his hands and was willing to give anything a try and as a result, not only taught himself new skills, but also left some pretty cool items for us as his children to treasure. 

Dad also had a beautiful singing voice. I wish that I had a recording, but I enjoy the many  music books and memories he left behind. 


The Scribner Music Library

Though I barely scratched the surface trying to describe my dad as a maker, I'm thankful I could leave an audio recording about him here as it helped little brothers students understand a bit more of what he wanted in the completed assignment. 

A Maker

Dad left a wonderful legacy in so many ways. Being a maker was only a part of it. He was a man of creativity and integrity. And he is sorely missed. 


This was taken about 10 years after the one above. 
My hair completed the journey to white and the brothers are well on their way.
It's another part of dads legacy!

Little brother said the assignment went brilliantly. "It's one of the best things I do all year." It was a sweet legacy project to be a part of.




 As for those twelve stones which he had taken from the Jordan, 

Joshua set them up at Gilgal. 

And when he said to the sons of Israel, 

"When your children ask their fathers in time to come, 

saying, 'What are these stones?' 

then you shall inform your children, saying 

"Israel crossed this Jordan on dry ground."

 Joshua 4:20-22




Other projects from this "maker"






2022-04-21

TSA - "I'm Carrying Human Remains"

There is no getting around the fact that travel is no longer fun. Gone are the days of making a last minute decision to go somewhere, dropping everything and jumping on a plane just because we could. 



I'm thankful that our travel privileges came during a time when it was easy and fun to use them. Rarely did we have  trouble getting seats. In fact, we had friends who used to hop on an airplane just to eat lunch in flight and then turn around and enjoy dinner on the return trip home. We never loved airline food that much, but it was nice to have meals and not just a bag of air and three pretzels.

Those were also the days when  we could come and go in airports easily to meet people at the gate, or just hang out. Some of the best food and shopping in Pittsburgh, PA was in the airside terminal.




But times have changed. Mask mandates accompanied by dire warnings for not complying or wearing them incorrectly, abbreviated flight schedules, overcrowded airplanes, getting through security, and mask mandates. Did I already mention that?

TSA is often one of the first agencies encountered when flying and, depending on the airport, are responsible for adding one more layer to the challenges faced during air travel. Some of the most cheerful people in the airport, and some of the most miserable we've encountered have been TSA agents and the general public doesn't hesitate to criticize these folks.





TSA is a federal agency. So one would think that they would be uniform in the way they function from airport to airport but that's not the case. Because of that, people never know what to expect. The list of travel requirements is long and you never know which ones will be enforced. We call it TSA roulette.



But I recently had an experience with TSA that I didn't expect and polite interaction always deserves a pat on the back.

A phrase I never would have imagined having to utter was "I'm carrying human remains." And the first time I said it was to a TSA agent in the Greenville Spartanburg airport in South Carolina.

My mom had ended her earthly journey in October of 2020 and because of COVID, a move, and our retirement, ended up spending a year and a half in a quiet closet in our home.

But the time had come to take her back out west to join my dad at the Riverside National Cemetery in Riverside CA. 



We placed dad here in 2004. I've really missed him


Mom always hated travel. Cars were difficult, but air travel was especially bad. 
This trip was pretty peaceful.

We did our homework with the airlines and read up on what to expect while travelling with her, but there was a lot of conflicting information as to how to make it all come together.

So I arrived at the airport early in the morning, still having no idea what would be required of me. I stepped up to the podium, showed my ID and boarding pass and uttered those words, "I'm carrying human remains."

The first agent politely pointed me to another agent who walked me through sending this unassuming little box through X-Ray. But before doing so, they placed the box in it's own bin sitting on a velvet cushion and held in place there by a velvet tie.



The bin was sent through on it's own with no other articles and then respectfully set aside. While still sitting on the velvet cushion, the box was tested for explosive and drug residue, which I fully expected, and the agent performing the tests was careful to keep me informed as to what he was doing. When he was finished, he carefully handed back my moms remains. 

To say I was shocked was putting it lightly. I never would have expected such a show of respect for her and for me in the way they treated this little cardboard box. 

I was reminded that these folks who work for TSA are just ordinary people. Not always polite, but working with the travelling public, I can't say I blame them for a little impatience.

There was obviously a system in place for travelers like me and they performed their tasks admirably.

Travel still isn't fun, but those folks did their jobs well. Thank you, TSA, for doing what you do. And for stepping up for me when it counted most. 


 

Big Bear means we're almost home.





For He will give His angels

orders concerning you, 

To protect you in all your ways.

Psalm 91:11





Other Projects

2022-02-09

I Married a Pilot - What It's REALLY like!

 When our children were small, they were riding in the car with a friend and when he passed the airport, he pointed to it and proclaimed "Look! That's where your daddy works!" Our youngest, in her matter of fact way, replied "my daddy doesn't work. He's a pilot ." Just one of the misconceptions people have about my husbands career.

I find it amazing what some people have always thought our life was like. Some reactions have been entertaining, some have elicited eye rolls, and a couple really hurt. 

But the time has come when I can actually tell some true stories. 



Enjoying a classic!


Hanging out between the runways.





When my husband went on active duty, one of the first activities I attended as a newly minted USAF wife was to go to a luncheon hosted by our CO's wife. Her intent was to get to know us, open the door for questions if we had them, and also give a little advice. She was a lot further down the road than we were so was well qualified to do so.

She had several helpful things to say but 3 points really stuck with me: 

    1. "Your husband is going to be flying multi million dollar, sophisticated aircraft. So keep things happy when you send him off." (In other words, save your drama for another time.) I thought this was good advice and always sought to follow it. That was easy because I've always been short on drama, and it actually became automatic for me.

    2. "No one really wants to know who you are. Leave the schedulers alone." Not all of the pilots at my husbands first duty station would go on to experience careers that included long absences, but that's what we ended up doing. And I had a number I could call to ask the schedulers where he was. I used it very sparingly thanks to this bit of advice and many didn't even know I existed. 

    3. Her last bit of advice was a defining moment for me and I kept it religiously for over 43 years. "When your husband is gone, those who need to know WILL know. You don't need to blab when you're alone. This one is for your own safety." 

And so most people never knew just how much he was gone. I remember a conversation with his parents about 30 years into his career and they were actually taken by surprise when I did the math for them. They knew he travelled and was gone, but I don't think they really ever put together just how much. 

An average of 18 days a month quickly adds up to years and then decades of absence. We've been married nearly 44 years and he just retired a couple of months ago. With the exception of a couple of years in management that kept him home a little more, the 18 day schedule was typical and it adds up.

Sometimes training kept him away for much longer. When we got to our second  duty station, I moved us, set up housekeeping and got a job while he went through training in another state. The neighbor kids thought he was my brother when he finally came home. "You ain't married!" 



When daddy went for training, the girls wanted to go along!

The people I worked with even thought I was making him up. I think they were relieved when he finally showed his face. 

Over the decades, he's done different types of flying, but the schedule was always similar and my behavior never changed. I never felt the need to talk about him being gone. It was just a part of our family life. I never questioned it and never made a big deal about it. He loved to fly, and I loved him. So that was what our life looked like. 

Because of that, most people had no idea when the kids and I were solo. Over the years I learned a lot about basic home maintenance and the like so rarely had to ask for help. 


When the kids got old enough to start answering the phone, I taught them how to do it so as not to give anything away. It wasn't a big secret, it just wasn't anyone's business.  


I've already told the story of his flying career from his perspective while I went along for the ride. Now that he's home every night and I'm no longer alone for long periods, I feel free to tell the story from my perspective.  Some of the things we experienced at the courtesy of his flying schedule were rather funny. Others were heartbreaking.

As a family, we traveled. A lot. And for free! The airline portion of his career afforded us the opportunity to see and do some pretty cool things. When he began the last portion of his flying career and left the airline business after 20 years, my biggest concern was how I'd fly because I knew I'd lose my flying privileges. No worries. We've managed. I just don't fly as much or as cheaply!



But whether he was flying in the military, airlines or corporate, Murphy's Law ALWAYS  applied when he was gone. Washer decides to walk down the drive during the spin cycle? Yeah. he's gone. Water main breaks? He's gone. Weddings? Birthdays? Broken sprinkler system? Yup. Gone. Dryer fire? He missed that. Threatening phone messages? That was a weird one that he missed. 

Car trouble? ER visits? Accidents? Going into labor? Yup. He was gone, but miracle of miracles, made it home by the time our daughter came!

Holidays? The only time I actually cried when he left was on a Christmas morning. He had flown Christmas's before, but the kids were home. This time it was just me. That was tough.

Anniversaries? I think he missed more of those than he made!

I learned early on to be strong and take it in stride when he was gone. I knew he was going to fly when we got married, but I had never flown before meeting him, and I had no idea what it would actually be like. So I understand when people really don't get it. 

One man expressed condolences when he found out how much my husband was gone.  That was so sweet of him. From him I learned that many people assumed  my husband was home every night and just flew days. Uh... nope. 

A woman actually got really angry at me when I assured her that I understood what her children were going through being separated from their spouses by their work. We had known each other for years but apparently, it never occurred to her just how much the kids and I were alone. That one hurt.

Another woman got pretty critical when she learned we travelled separately. Not sure how else we could do it when that was my husbands job.

Most of our experiences while my husband flew came with the ability to laugh them off. Humor helped us survive his schedule. But there were those times of crushing grief that just had to be survived. 

He wasn't able to be with me when my dad died. I had extended family there, but I missed my person. He was also flying when my mom reached the end of her life.

But by far, the most painful experience at the hands of his flying schedule came in the first few years of marriage. Shortly after Christmas 1981 he took off and within a couple of days, we lost our first child. Coming to terms with that by myself was how I spent New Years. 

Looking back, I probably should have called his commander, but I was in such a fog, I just waited until he came home to tell him. There were no cell phones or computers, and when I called the squadron on occasion to ask where he was they talked a big talk but truth be told, had no idea typically. 

So while he was on the other side of the globe, I walked one of the hardest paths I've ever walked, and told him about it 10 days later. I was 10 days into my grief. His just started. 

His career was hard on him too. All of those broken things, missed celebrations and losses? He was alone too, in some hotel or military Q. He didn't like me having to field the challenges alone any better than I did. But I had to learn to trust him from the get and he had to trust me too. 

So... why am I telling my story? Because it's my blog and I can. I waited for a long time to tell what it's really like. If you landed here and stayed until the end, now you know. 

Do I regret spending my life this way? Absolutely not. Aviation equipped and strengthened me in a way nothing else could have and whether people knew I was  alone or not, I still learned my lessons and became better for them. 

I have to laugh when I hear about the glamorous lifestyle people think we must live. Being married to a pilot is fun and hard, enriching and draining, interesting and sometimes mind numbingly boring, unique and nothing like what most  people think. It's airplane decor everywhere, lots of airshows, learning  pilot jargon and how to identify different "equipment", clothes that smell of airplane exhaust and stale air, unpredictable schedules, and never knowing when he'll be home so being unable to commit to anything because of it.





Our home decor is "Early American Aviation"



I was a diligent student. I am able to say with complete confidence that these are two very different cockpits.

We lived a schizophrenic lifestyle because I couldn't possibly function the same when he was gone as I did when he was home. Our children just assumed everyone had a mommy world and a daddy world.

I've also found myself answering the same questions over and over:

"Yes my husband is a pilot. No I don't know where he is. Yes, he's flying. No I don't know when he'll be home. Yes, he's real. No I didn't make him up. Yes I iron his shirts. No I don't have a maid..." and they go on and on.



I finally bought a Tshirt!


 Even with the hard times, I thank the Lord for the gift of taking this ride with my husband. I can't imagine doing life any other way. 

Now you know.


The drop offs and pick ups were, more often than not, always either late at night or very early in the morning. This was our last 4am drop off.

\

He always had the best seat in the house



Our youngest daughter got to park her dads final flight while I just went along for the ride. Our oldest daughter was busy having a baby but was with us in spirit.



42 years apart




Who are these who fly like a cloud

And like the doves to their windows?

Isaiah 60:8


Your wife will be like a fruitful vine

Within your house,

Your children like olive plants

Around your table.

Psalm 128:3


For my husband is not at home;

He has gone on a long journey.

Prov. 7:19






2020-11-10

Lost and Found

 "If I take the wings of the morning, and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea, even there your hand shall lead me, and your right hand shall hold me."

Psalm 139:9-10


16 years ago next month, shortly after the death of my dad, we sat at the closing table to purchase the home in which we live. '

Today, shortly after the death of my mom, we will sit at the table once again and sign the papers selling it. 

We're doing so early because the arduous process of the actual move begins bright and early tomorrow, but if all goes as scheduled, the buyers are supposed to sign tomorrow. I expect the buyer to show up then as he seems so excited to take possession, and we're ready to pass along this beautiful home to its new owner. 

Covid is blamed for everything nowadays, and because of that and the insanity of the real estate market, mortgage companies are too busy to keep up. Even in the best of times, closings happening on time are iffy, but we've never been delayed...

yet...

I've been compulsively planning for this week for years. And here it is as I wonder when and how it will actually happen. But the Lord tells me to rest in Him. To take this process in moments, not days and weeks. He has always been so faithful - in the big things, of course, but especially in those small things that so often tie me up.

When my mom was living, she was driven by having "stuff". She wanted to show it all off to other people and she never had enough of it. It drove her crazy because I used an antique chest in the basement to keep the TV on and no one would see it there. 

At her death, she had  very little jewelry, and I took possession of it all in a very small bag.





Yesterday, as I organized and cleaned out my own things, I couldn't find her small bag of treasures. 

I had already discussed with my brother where some of her things should go and I was just sick that it was seemingly gone. How would I ever explain it to him that I had lost it?

I looked and prayed for quite some time before bringing others into my equation to pray along with me, and literally within 5 minutes of doing that, I went right to where I had placed the small bag when we got this home ready to put on the market.

I never doubted that the Lord COULD guide me to it, but WOULD He? 

His hand led me to exactly where I needed to go. Those things that are my concerns, no matter how small they may be, are at the top of His list too, and He proved that once again. It's happened before as I looked for lost things, and I know it will again. 

So whether we close on this home on time tomorrow, or 10 days from now, or even if this seemingly golden deal falls apart at the last minute and we're forced to re-list this home and try to sell it while empty (Oh Lord, please no...), I can trust in Him.

I may plan and prepare and try to move the pieces on the board to my own satisfaction,

But God...

"His hand shall lead me, and His right hand shall hold me". In that place, I find my true home.




Rejoice always, 
Pray without ceasing,
Give thanks in ALL circumstances;
For this is the will of God in Christ for you.
1Thessalonians 5:16-18











2020-07-26

Down Dementia Drive

This has been a big part of my story in recent years, and I struggled for a long time trying to decide whether or not I should share it. My hope is that in finally speaking up, I can encourage someone else as they experience caring for their own loved ones. 




Dad and mom in their younger days


In June of 2003, I sat on a ship in the port of Seattle and made a phone call that would be a crossroads in my life. I was checking in with my folks before going off grid and my dad gave me the really difficult news that he had been diagnosed with lung cancer. 

What followed were several trips west over the next 12 months from our home near Philadelphia. The frequent trips were to check on my parents, until the last one that kept me there for several months taking care of dad as he came to the end of his life. 

It was with him that I first experienced the ravages of dementia. His was the result of his cancer metastasizing.  

I had no idea that it was merely the beginning of a very long journey.



Our last family picture



Dad, shortly before his death


During that time of being dads caretaker, I spent a lot of time with my mom, and began the transition into being her caretaker as well. I just didn't know it was happening. 

Mom's dementia was harder to recognize than dads. His was expected because of his disease, and quite frankly, he did and said some funny things. One of the best laughs I had during that time was when he told a doctors waiting room full of people that he was a "solar powered sex machine". The cancer treatment had stolen his hair and the dementia had stolen his inhibitions but neither had stolen his sense of humor.

But because moms style was always "ready, fire, aim" it was hard to know what was really "not right" and what was "just mom". Erratic behavior was kind of her MO, but one of the many things she told me as I took care of dad was that she would never be as easy a patient as he was. It was a prophetic statement.

After a few years alone in the house my folks had once shared, and with more trips west for me to shore her up, it became evident that mom could no longer live alone and I could no longer be expected to keep her going while living thousands of miles away with my own family. Yes, I had two beautiful children and an amazing husband that made up my life. 

So the decision was made by my brothers and myself to move her near me. It just made sense and the Lord opened the door for her to be able to afford it. My brothers and I were in agreement, and as time passed, we quickly saw the wisdom in it. 



Shortly after the big move


She was able to enjoy living independently for a time after moving here, but it wasn't without significant time on my part to keep her going. Cleaning her place, doing her laundry, changing her bedding, doing her hair, doctors visits, the trauma of getting her to the dentist, managing her medication, cleaning up messes created by bowel incontinence, and the frequent reminders that she needed to bathe. 

She often jokingly said it was like I had another child. To which I would respond "No it's not. Because my children obey." She found that hilariously funny.

There was also the anger. She had always been a very angry person, but it went to a whole new level as she deteriorated. She made frequent erratic claims of people stealing her things, paranoia because people were talking about her, and even accusations leveled at me for various imagined offenses, angry late night phone calls complete with screaming and hang ups... 

And she was so afraid. Fear was a constant companion through her life, but now she knew something wasn't right with her. She had no control over what was happening in her head and her fear just compounded the anger she felt.

In actuality, no one stole anything. She squirreled things away because she was afraid they would, and by God's grace, I quickly learned her hiding places and was able to restore her things to her until "someone stole them" again. Her neighbors were so very kind and were the reason she was able to stay in independent living as long as she did. As much as I was with her, there were still things I didn't know because they were all so good at covering for each other.

I had gone down a hole that I didn't even realize existed. 

When the time came to move her into assisted living, I really believed it would get easier, and some of the tasks were lifted from my shoulders, but some were not. In addition to her own late night calls, I began receiving them from the kind and caring nursing staff informing me about one thing or another. 

I have so appreciated the care she's been given, but have to tell you, I get very tense when the phone tells me it's a call from the "Raisin Ranch". (a term coined by my funny big brother) She falls often, and is at times very combative with staff. 

She began experiencing "sundowners" shortly after moving into assisted living, and would often pace the halls at all hours of the night. Those times always brought a call from the staff and I often made the trip to try and calm her down. That was never successful because I wasn't the one she wanted to see, and she just wanted to "go home". In her mind, I was the reason she couldn't.

I quickly learned there is no reasoning with a person suffering from dementia. Distraction is your best ally. 



Little brother teaches mom the finer points of taking "selfies"


I made several trips to the ER with her, most often late at night. Those were especially difficult because her default to worry became exponentially amplified as she aged and that stress brought on the incontinence that is so much more difficult to deal with in a public place, but I had a lot of practice. The ER runs also had to happen when I was out of town, so I learned how to manage those long distance.

My parents changed me, fed me, and kept me clean as a child, and dads illness called for me to do the same for him. After his death, the task of doing so for my mom also fell to me. I've cleaned up messes that I would have insisted I couldn't bear to deal with, but you do what has to be done. 

Mom and dad were born the same year, and he died entirely too soon at 75 years old. After moving here and spending 2 years in independent living, and 7 years in assisted living, mom was registered for hospice care 2 years ago. She is now 91. 

I just recently realized that my journey down dementia drive started in 2003. That's a long time, but when you're in the midst of "it" you just lose track of how much time is passing.

While mentally mom is gradually fading away, relatively speaking, she's in good shape physically for her age and state. While she spends most of her time in a wheel chair, she's still mobile with a walker for short distances. 

She hasn't known me for quite some time and seems to think I'm just another one of her caregivers. As long as she's in her familiar space, she's fine with me being there, but COVID-19 has made that impossible. Now visits have to take place in a beautiful outdoor area that is completely unfamiliar to her. She must wear a mask and so do I, and the fear of being left in this unknown place with me causes a fear in her that results in completely shutting down. She's still chatty and relatively responsive in her own room, but during a visit with me in this outdoor space, there is no speech, no response... nothing. 

So until I can once again visit with her in her own space, I won't see her physically. Her own feelings of safety and security are more important and that's stolen from her when I try to see her right now. 




The setting is lovely, but too stressful for her


This time only reinforces the importance of making sure your loved ones are well taken care of in your absence. In addition to the nursing staff in her community, mom also sees a nurse practitioner and her hospice nurse on a weekly basis. For now they are my sweet and faithful eyes and ears and they sing the praises of moms assisted living home.

Bottom line? Dealing with dementia is a dirty, hard business, both for those experiencing it themselves, and for their caretakers. Everyday brings a new issue that you can't possibly prepare for because the disease has a mind of its own. 

Dementia results from physiological changes to the brain. Simply stated, there are physical gaps in the brain tissue that result in mental gaps in those who have it. My mom tells very believable fantastic stories because she's just trying to fill the holes in her memory. They aren't lies, but an attempt to bridge gaps that make no sense. 

My goal in even writing this is two fold. First to process what I've been doing for the last 17 years of my life. I can't believe I've been on this journey for such a long time, nor would I have believed you if you had told me what would be expected of me when I took that first step with my dad. 

But more than that it's to help others who might stumble upon this accounting and find help and encouragement here. You're not alone, my friends. The community to which you belong is a big one. You're often asked how your loved one is, which is such a hard question to answer. The whole truth is just too hard to vocalize, so you just say "relatively, she's doing well". We all know it's not the truth at all, but to tell the truth is just too hard. It's too big.

Rarely are you asked how YOU are. But those of us on this journey understand. We know how you are, because we know what is expected of you and we're right there with you.

Nothing could have prepared you for what you're experiencing right now. But the God Who created you laid this path before you because He knew it's what you needed. His intent is for us to honor others and that looks different in every family. 

Honoring someone is in part, providing the support they need when and in the way they need it. It includes doing hard things. Sometimes feeding them like babies, changing diapers, and cleaning up messes you didn't think you could ever deal with. Yet God gives you the grace when the time comes. Sometimes it's handling their finances like my sweet husband does for my mom. But for you, right now, honoring your loved ones, whether they are parents or others, is doing exactly what you're doing, and doing it excellently. 

Watching over those that can't watch over themselves. Doing the hard things that they can't do for themselves. That, my friends, is a noble calling. 

Don't be discouraged. You're doing a good thing. 

And so my journey continues. It's a bit different everyday, yet stays very much the same. I don't know what my future holds, but my God does. And He never fails. 




Beloved, if God so loved us, 
we also ought to love one another.
1 John 4:11

Honor your father and mother; 
and you shall love your neighbor as yourself.
Matthew 19:9

So that we can confidently say, 
"the Lord is my helper. I will not be afraid."
Hebrews 13:6

Just as I have been with Moses, I will be with you. 
I will not fail you or forsake you.
Joshua 1:5