I Will Always Love You

Whether it be star-crossed lovers, family or friends, I wonder how often that statement has been said. And eventually dismissed as if it meant nothing.

I know over my lifetime I have left so many friends behind because of moves, that there is barely enough room in my head to remember them all. At one point, for many different reasons, I moved 10 times in 10 years. Just about the time I would be getting use to the neighborhood and neighbors the packing would begin.

The first few times I tried to stay in touch via mail or telephone, but eventually, slowly but surely they were lost from me. This past year I contacted or was contacted by a few of those friends that hadn’t heard from me in years, and was surprised to notice that talking to some was like I hadn’t ever been gone and talking to others was like talking to a stranger.

Of course I must say there were times I was glad to get out of Dodge, so to speak and never missed for a moment, those I left behind. It had become a pattern and one in which I was severely tethered to.

After my days of drinking came to an end, those I drank with were no longer interested in having me by their side. I was no longer the funny, silly, sometimes temper laden person they were use to. And to me, they were no longer any of those things either. They were mostly boring or so flamboyant it was almost scary to be with them as a sober person.

There are a few friends I have stayed in touch with and who I love dearly and I have made other friends that I treasure very much. Some are friends from the Internet. Although unlike most Internet friends, I have traveled to see them in person. Which has helped take away my zero trust factor as well.

I think about families who separate one from another. Parents who disown their children. Children who disown their parents. Siblings who no longer even talk to each other. As per usual, I have wondered about it all.

Marriages are broken and anger replaces the love that once was.

My conclusion? God is the only one you can really count on to always love you.

The Three Wise Women

The story of Jesus and the three wise men is a very well known story. At Christmas time especially we hear about them. But I want to write about my three wise women.

They belong to the church where I became a member and fellow Christian. These beautiful women have attended our church for many years. All three are in their seventh or eighth decade of life but I would never call them old because their spirits are still so young. They are what some would call pillars of the community/church and are the most giving and loving women I have ever met.

A year or so ago God called me to lead a morning Disciple class with them. It wasn’t always easy for any of us doing a class that required 34 weeks of intense study. But we did it and from what I experienced we did it well. Not only did I learn more about the bible and scripture but I learned much more from them and always our discussions were interesting.

Those 34 weeks gave me the opportunity to get to know and love those three women more than words can express. Their life experiences and their knowledge were a real gift to me.
Each are different one from the other, although what they have in common is their spirituality, love of God, love of others and the church.

I have been so blessed to have grown close to them. Their wisdom and life experiences have shown me that growing older can really be done with both beauty and grace.

The Christmas Tree

During the time I was a single Mom and times were pretty tough I decided the kids deserved a *real* Christmas tree. Even if we did without something else. So off we went with a friend to one of the places that was selling real trees, although it was still a week or so till Christmas. We also had a specific kind in mind. We want a small tree because it was going to have to sit on a table, and we found one that suited us perfectly.

When we got home I set it outside our side door which we very seldom used. There were houses all around us, one a huge old apartment building all inhabited by people I did’nt know. The day I went outside to get the tree, a week or so later, the kids were gone with their father. It was his weekend. I planned to have the tree up and ready to decorate when they got home. But it was gone. I stood there awhile, looking around, hoping against hope I had put it behind the house instead of at the side door. It was nowhere to be found. I couldn’t believe it. Was it a prank? Why would someone steal a small Christmas tree?

The kids came home, never knowing at that time that the tree was gone. I told one friend about what had happened and how mad I was and how sad I was that the kids wouldn’t have a tree. She is the only one I told, my pride being what it was back then, I didn’t want just anyone knowing how hard it was for me financially, although almost everyone knew since I had gotten rid of both my car and telephone cause I couldn’t afford them. But still, I would never have accepted a handout.

Then a few days before Christmas I heard this knock at my door. When I opened the door, there stood the same friend that had taken us to get the tree. I didn’t know what to say. *Come in and see we lost the tree you helped us get. * She stood there a few seconds grinning from ear to ear, then finally stepped to one side and showed me another Christmas tree. She had heard what happened and knew how unhappy we would all be. I almost cried, the children did cry. She stayed and helped us decorate it with the few ornaments we had and the ones the kids had made. I look back now and remember what a wonderful night that was.

I only tell this story cause of my friend. She was not what anyone would call a Christian. She drank. And I mean she could drink anybody under the table, and often did. She also cussed as much as she drank and was a real party girl. But she was one of the best friends I ever had. A few years later when I was married again and she had cleaned up her act and was in her late 30’s she decided she wanted to be a nurse. She became a nurse. A great one working with children who had behavior problems. She never had any children of her own.

That day is etched in my brain. A day that has helped me remember her always, as the one who gave us a wonderful gift of love when it was especially needed.

Passion

I think of different kinds of things when I think of passion. One that always comes to my mind is the murder of a good friend of mine. We had known each other for several years and had become good friends. Then my life changed completely and I got married again and moved to another town about 45 minutes away from her. I was still working in the town where she lived and my son was still attending kindergarten there.

I had called my friend on a Thursday evening to tell her I would be stopping by to see her the next night. She was excited cause she had a date for Saturday night and she wanted to tell me all about it.

My friend and her husband had been divorced for a few months. Their relationship was one of those tempestuous ones. They would argue and one would move out for a while, but before too long they would be back together again. They couldn't seem to stay away from each other. This went on for years. Their passion was so extreme they hated one another as much as they loved each other.

Friday after I left work and picked up my son from school we stopped at her house but she was not there. I thought that strange but wasn't real concerned because she was always busy going or doing something. As I drove farther down the street and was almost to the ramp that led to the interstate, I noticed a car beside me, where it didn't belong. I looked and it was another friend of mine. He had been watching for me to tell me that my friend had been shot and killed by her husband. I don't remember the drive home that day.

Her husband was convicted and went to prison. He died there a few years later. I can't help but remember how they were both good people. Nice people, kind people, but their passion killed them both.

Passion can be such a wonderful thing. God would not have created that emotion in us if it wasn't supposed to be good. Passion for music. Passion for art. Passion for others. Passion for life. Passion for our Lord. But it also shows me that good things can become bad things and destroy those who can't see the difference. She was my first friend who was murdered. I had another as well. But that's a wondering for another time.

Take it back

I couldn't begin to know the number of times that I wish I could have taken something back. Something I had said that hurt someone. Something I had done that wasn't the right thing to do. Later I would think, why did I do that, or why did I say that? I would guess there are many people in the boat with me on that one.

After God came into my life, I learned that I was supposed to let go of all the things that I do, say or think, that are not the Christian way. That is what forgiveness is all about. You give it to him and you forget about it. But I have a tendency to take it back. I am an Indian-giver with God. Not sure how He feels about this but it is very upsetting to me.

All my life I have not only put my foot in my mouth on most every occasion I have been around others, but I also am an expert at opening my mouth to change feet. The ones who know me really well, don't even notice. But I do. It is something I think about afterwards. What did I say and why did I say that? Oh dear, I have done it again. I can't remember a time when I wasn't that way. Maybe that is why I don't particularly care for *functions*. You know those things you go to where there are people all around you?  Not my cup of tea. Give me a small group any day and I am very sociable. Even laid back. Although I know before the event is over I will open mouth and say something I will regret. Then later give it over to God and take it back.

What can I say, old habits die hard.