Tonight I sit on my back porch listening to the sounds of dogs barking in the distance, and cricket chirping.  I love this porch.  We had a candle light dinner out here tonight and I decided to stay.  I has been a hard two days at work.  Today was a half day and it seemed to take twice as long as a whole one.  There have been discipline issues with one of my students.  The law was involved and the family who was all for punishment yesterday, changed their minds today.  Today it is the teachers fault.  Pulling us from our end of year party to demand an apology...rough day.  Our superintendent was called and now there is an investigation of what we did in the situation.  It is a terrible way to end the year, being questioned.  I fully believe that we were professional in our handling of the issue.  I know that has already come out in our written report.  It is just the idea that I hate.  That after all we poor into these kids...this one in particular...our motives are still questioned.  It is part of being a teacher.  A bad part.  The public feels it has the right to come in during a party and call you down.  Then they are offended when you refuse to bow to their pressure.  Bad day.  Maybe tomorrow, this will be resolved and the last day of school will be salvaged.

Word of Advice

Parents that are reading...please put yourself in the position of the teacher before you barge into a classroom on the attack.  Think about how you would complain to a doctor or lawyer.  I don't think you would run into their office while they were with another client or patient and yell at them in front of the other person.  Please do not do this to your teachers.  We really do love children and want the best for them.

It is the last week of school.  It is exhausting as the students are excitable and we have had to turn in all books.  We have field day, pie in the face day, awards days, and parties.  Hype...and discipline issues because of the hype.  I will be glad when Friday comes!

It is astounding to me how one person can affect so many…like ripples in a pond.  The rings of a life travel far and touch many.  Jason Harkins life was like that, affecting many people that he did not even know. I am one of those people. Hundreds of others lined the streets of our town Friday.  They closed their businesses, left their jobs and stood for hours in the hot sun to pay tribute to a man they never knew.  It was quite a sight to see.

On the way to the funeral, over the road there was a humungous flag draped between two bucket trucks. My heart began grieving for the family at that moment.  It was the beginning of many breathless moments that day. Our church family lined the streets around the church for the processional. We held flags to show our support and thanks to this family for the ultimate sacrifice they have made.  Dignitaries arrived by a helicopter that landed on the baseball field across from the church.  Soon after, we could hear sirens at a distance.  First, the police cars came with lights flashing, then the van with the honor guard, then about 50 Patriot Riders on motorcycles rode with flags; their duty…to protect this day.  Then the hearse came with the flag draped coffin in the back.  Next in line was the rider-less horse, with Jason’s empty combat boots in the stirrups.  It was a solemn moment…breathless.  All eyes were moist and then the tears really began to flow as the black limousine with the family went past.  Helicopters flew overhead, and I wondered what it must be like for a family to grieve in such a fishbowl.  The world is watching you bury your son, your husband, your brother; it cannot get tougher than that. 

The funeral was both heart wrenching and patriotic.  The formality of the military honors mixed with the compassion of the people to create a sweet atmosphere of love and care.  The color guard brought the flag and placed it beside the flag draped coffin. The pledge was said and the National Anthem sung. There were PowerPoint presentations set to patriotic songs that captured the meaning of Jason’s life.  And then the slides of his childhood through adulthood caused all mothers to hold their own children a little tighter and pray for Nancy with great sorrow.  Wives held husband’s hands in a firm grip and mourned with Emily

 Each minister that shared brought another piece of Jason’s life into the spotlight of his death.  The youth pastor that led him to the Lord spoke first about Jason’s desire to know God even as a young eighth grader.  Then the minister that married Jason and Emily told of their love for each other and their desire to have a Christian marriage. A song that his Emily wrote called You Get Used to Goodbye (The Military Wife) followed this.  She wrote it as he left for Iraq never knowing the double-edged meaning of the words would pierce every heart at his funeral.  Compassion and tears flowed from the people as her words, sung by a cousin, hit home.

 Last, the pastor of Concord shared about Jason’s service to the Lord and to his country.  He told about just a few weeks ago when Jason had returned into a hostile firefight to save an injured buddy’s life as he carried him to safety.  He took a bullet in his helmet that day, and it earned him a bronze star.  He saved the helmet with the bullet still lodged in it as a trophy of that victory.  Two weeks later, he died in a roadside bomb.  It does not make sense, but we know that God is holding Jason and his family now, his compassion overflowing for his children.  In private before the ceremony, a Brigadier General presented the family with a purple heart, a bronze star, and other commendations.  The general was recognized at the end of the funeral.  The color guard removed the colors and the body was removed behind them. 

The ride to the cemetery was the most amazing part to me.  I was ahead of the procession trying to find a place to stand among the crowd.  As I rode, I saw diversity standing by the roadside.  Old men in overalls, little children in strollers, men in suits, all varieties of people lined up to pay tribute…for miles.  These are the people for whom Jason was fighting; this is a picture of the USA in all of its diversity coming together in unity for one moment in time.  These people were putting aside their differences and their lives for an hour or two to show their respect to this soldier and his family. 

On the street, we were realizing that our freedom is not free. We saw the cost as it drove by us in a black hearse.  We saw it in the faces of a family in painful agony as they moved to bury their loved one.   It was hushed in the crowd as the cars filed by.  Each one was holding his/her flag up in silence.  Quiet sobs and curious children; tear filled eyes, and veteran salutes were the sights and sounds of respect…breathless.

Once I was back in my car, I proceeded to the cemetery.  The day was beautiful; it was sunny with a cool breeze and bright blue skies. They presented and read a long list of honors earned by this young man.  The honor guard fired the salute that made startled children in the crowd cry out and hold their ears.  In our hearts, we were crying with the children…Stop, this is not right.  It is loud.  It is wrong. Stop. But they did not stop and we did not cry out…breathless. 

The honor guard removed the flag from the casket just as the wind picked up.  They folded it ever so slowly and carefully.  It passed with slow salute from one officer to another, until it finally came to rest in the arms of his wife; then another for his mother and one more for his father. The presenter spoke words of comfort and gratefulness, as the family clung to the red, white, and blue fabric for which Jason died.  The pastor gave a message of hope to the family and The Lords Prayer was sung.  In a final moment, the young widow stood, kissed the casket and said her goodbyes as she clung to the only thing she has left…the flag…Jason’s flag.  Breathless.

The day was full of ceremony but in the end, Jason is still gone.  A family is still hurting.  Our community is in mourning for one of our own.  Our hearts are ripped out. The ripples in the pond are expanding, moving outward.  I did not know Jason personally, but I know his family.  They are remarkable people to handle this event with such dignity and to allow us to watch their very private, personal loss in such a public way.  They are people of faith.  Their desire is that Jason’s sacrifice will lead others to know their Savior, Jesus Christ.  After all, He is one that Jason modeled his life after.  Greater love hath no man than this, that he lay down his life for his friends.  John 15:13  

There were no protesters...thanks for the prayers.  The funeral was very moving as was the ride through the crowded streets to the cemetary.  I have no words...yet :)  Stay tuned.  I will paint you a picture when I can stop crying...

Calling all my praying friends...a member of our church, Jason Harkins, was killed in Iraq.  I have written about him in an earlier blog.  His funeral is on Friday and it is going to be big.  The whole town plans to line the streets between the funeral home in Cleveland to the church in Clermont.  It is to be a show of support for the family that gave the ultimate sacrifice.  We recieved word that a group is planning to protest the funeral.  It is the same group that protested the gay club at the high school and picketed our Easter parade.  They have a twisted and hateful message...and they are always looking for a spot light.  Jason was a native of Cleveland and many of the locals are very angry about the protesters.  Our prayer is that there are no confrontations and that the funeral can be a time of honor to this fallen soldier.  Please join with us in praying for the family and community...you are all the greatest!

Today is Live Strong Day.  It is a tribute to cancer victims and survivors started by the Lance Armstrong Foundation.  The goal of the day is to unify those that have suffered from this deadly disease.  On my way to work, I heard stories of strength and courage.  I have such a story myself, and I have a new appreciation for anyone that is going through or has gone through Cancerland.  The tears come quickly when reliving the details of my own journey, as others share their painful stories. 

This terrible disease brings out the best of the human spirit, the spirit God created within us to fight for life.  It changes your priorities and perspectives.  Everything looks differently after surviving such a challenge.  I think it is like some big sporting event such as the super bowl, only the stakes are much higher...life and death.  Oh, yeah…and you do not get to train.  It is thrust upon you totally, unaware and suddenly you are in the fight of your life.  The only preparation you have is what has been developed in your life up to that point…faith, strength of character, endurance, emotional health, physical strength and stamina.  This fight will try to take all of that away.  Where you are the weakest is where it will hit the hardest.  I have never been through anything that so consumed every part of my life.  Without the Lord and a fabulous support system, I do not see how anyone could survive. 

The incredible part of this journey is that in all of this weakness, with a weary body, soul and spirit…God comes through.  He shines out like a beacon…his strength is displayed through this desire that rises to fight, to endure…to survive.  He built this into the deepest parts of our being.  It is his design.  When all else is weak, He is strong. When you cannot lift your head, you can feel him pouring strength into your spirit.  His breath surges into you, as he whispers to your heart.  “Fight!”  “Survive!”  “Live!” 

My motto…live fully. Lance Armstrong’s motto…live strong.

God’s motto? Live Free.  Free from cancer, from unforgiveness, from bitterness, from sin, from darkness, and from death.  Be free to love, share, give, and live.  I applaud the human spirit that fights for life.  I pray that all of us can Live Free.

Every person in the world has a mother.  Have you ever thought of that?  All the diversity in the world but every person was born in the same way.  God designed this universal uniqueness. His ability to create these kinds of paradoxes is what makes him God. In his plan, we cross over from woman to mother when we nurture and bring forth life.  It is a miraculous thing for God to share this ability, because it is his alone to give.  It speaks volumes of his love and respect of the women he created.  If a woman is unable to bare children, she is not disqualified from this call to bring forth life, for it applies to much more that the physical act of childbearing.  Every mother, every woman is has a unique style about her.  No two are alike.  Motherhood is the same…individual abilities that help to form the next generation.  Some mothers are good.  Some are not.  The fact remains that every mother is designed to bring life to the world around her.  She imprints the people within her life one way or another.  She forms and shapes as the master potter watches and instructs.

This year I know several people facing this day as the “first” without their mothers.  My father is one of these.  My grandmother has left her imprint on his life and on ours.  She had her way, her style of loving and showing love.  She nurtured and brought forth life that was poured out in her own way to those of us she cared about.  It left an impression on my father.  In him, you can see the marks of her artistry as they come forth to us for the next generation.   

I have two mothers to honor this day.  My own mother, who teaches me to be whom God created me to be.  She is my encourager and a quiet confidence within me.  This year has been a particularly bonding time between us as I have faced down death with her by my side.  The marks of her nurture are deep within my being.  They surface and life comes forth even in the midst of a deadly disease. 

My Mother-in Love, Louise is another woman whom God has used to bless me.  For more than 20 years, she has been caring about me.  Now a common road through Cancerland bonds us.  Chemo is not what I would choose to share to unite me with another, but God did not ask me.  Now that we are both on the “other side” of treatment, the imprints of our trial are visible through our scars.  They have created a beauty all their own as life comes forth from them. 

I praise God for my mothers…both of them.  I thank him that I was blessed to know and love my grandmothers as they brought their own personalities to my life.  I am grateful that he invented motherhood as a way to nurture his creation around the world. His blessings to us never cease to amaze me.  

I am sitting on my back porch.  I cleaned  and kicked the dogs out this morning.  I do this each year...except last year.  It is thundering so there is a cool breeze.  My family is all off shopping for Mother's Day gifts for me.  I am enjoying my porch again...I love it out here. 

I am thinking back to last night's Relay for Life.  It was different from last weeks but still meaningful.  Bill and my kids, my parents and his parents all walked together.  It was awesome to have almost my complete support system walking together.  Bill and his dad had on matching shirts as did me and his mom.  That was another acknowledgment that we have walked this road together.  As we rounded the track near my schools tent my friends let out a cheer for me.  That touched my heart and brought tears to the surface.  Afterward, many of them said that when they saw my entire family around me that they were brought to tears as well.  This is all very fresh for all of us.  I am only a 4 month survivor.  It was a blessing to walk a victory lap with so many cheering me on.  It was a good evening.

I heard a great message tonight at church.  First the speaker had two of the students come forward, one boy and one girl.  He poured two big cups of Mountain Dew for each.  One cup had a coffee stirrer in it the other was regular, no lid.  The game was a race to see which one could finish drinking both of their cups the fastest.  Of course, they both chugged the regular one first and then began sucking the straw on the second.  The pace slowed considerably as their mouths tired and their stomachs filled.  The girl gave up because she was too full to drink more.  The guy won when he finished his second cup. 

The speaker used the race as an illustration.  He said it is similar to sitting beside a fast flowing river…the river of God .  It is alive and vibrant.  It flows passionately.  And we sit on the side dying of thirst and sipping it with a straw.  Then when our thirst is not quenched, we have the audacity to blame the river.  It was a great message for the students but for the adults as well.  Are you sipping?  Playing church?  Do you dip your straw into the living water occasionally or are you chugging?  His point was that it is our choice to sip or chug.  Our sipping never changes unless we decide to drink deeply. 

This illustration reminded me of my motto to live fully.  I think it is more than just gulping the water.  I think to live fully you have to dive in.  Run to the river of God and immerse ourselves in its flow.  We have to desire the passionate relationship and pursue it.  The river is rushing by us as we sip from a straw.  My desire is to jump with abandonment into the flow of God.

     The war came home this week.  One of our own, Jason Harkins, was struck down by a roadside bomb in Iraq .  And with that strike, the heart of every mother wretched within her chest.  It is our nightmare, to bury a child.  There are no words, only unutterable groans and tears as mother’s hearts unite in this horror.  The news is especially cruel the week of Mother’s Day. The fact that he died a hero’s death is little consolation when standing beside your son’s grave.  God must’ve cried like this as he watched his son die at the hands of men.  I am convinced that his heart broke that dark day, just as our hearts are broken today for Jason’s family. 

Violence isn’t new to our world.  It has been here since the dawn of time when man chose to follow his own selfish desires.  Caine and Able were the first to learn of its power, and we have been killing each other ever since…as God weeps.  History shows us that this is much bigger than a war in Iraq .  It is bigger than our current politics, though the devil would have you think otherwise.  This is a war for our souls.  For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this age, against spiritual hosts of wickedness in the heavenly places. Therefore take up the whole armor of God, that you may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand. Ephesians 6:12-13. This verse is clear, we are not fighting men and as long as we think that our war is against men, we will loose.  It is not an accident that our country is so divided about this war…that is the master plan of the devil.  Divide and conquer.  It is only when we unite on our faces in prayer that the battle will be won. 

If you need proof that this war is a spiritual battle just ask Jason’s mom, Nancy Fritchey. Nancy is a woman of prayer.  She knows the power of God on her knees.  Last week she helped lead a prayer service for the National Day of Prayer.  She cried out to God for our nation.  She poured out a mother’s heart before the throne for our soldiers and there was power in her prayers.  Today she weeps for her own.  Do you think it is coincidence that her son was killed?  On the day of prayer, the spiritual battle heated up. She struck a blow to the forces of darkness and they did not like it.  The retaliation was swift; the message unmistakable, ‘if you pray people you love will die.’  Isn’t it just like the enemy of our souls, to threaten us with our greatest fear…the fear of losing a child?  He would like nothing more than to grieve us into not praying.  He would like us to fight each other, argue politics, and hate one another.  After all, he comes to steal, kill and destroy.  Our spiritual vision is distorted when we are in emotional pain, then we fall for his tactics and enter into his plan.  His strategy has not changed for generations. 

This week a family is broken in our own community.  The violence half a world away reached out and grabbed us to remind us that our children are not safe.  More than ever, our prayers are needed.  We weep with the family on this Mother’s Day as they await their son’s homecoming.  We cry out to God on their behalf.  We hold them up in prayer when they need God’s strength.  We do not give up the spiritual battle for our children or our country.   We will fight…on our knees.