CHRISTMAS EVE

It's the night before Christmas, and I find myself thinking about the men and women in the armed forces, knowing their Christmas won't be like mine. Even as I enjoy our beautifully decorated tree, the quiet of the night, the joy of knowing  my husband is still with me, and that tomorrow, our son and grandchild will spend Christmas day with us, it's hard not to cry.  Sometimes I do. How could I not?
     Our troops, so far away from home, have no pillow beneath their heads, no warm shower, nobody to hug and kiss them or comfort them when they are weary and lonely, fearful and worried. They don't have a warm breakfast to start their day, don't get to enjoy something so simple as a cup of coffee, and have nothing much to look forward too, except more of what they just experienced the day before.
    These brave men and women are where they are because they love their country and want to keep it safe- want to keep all of us safe. I think sometimes we forget that the freedom we have came with a price, a very HIGH price. 
   We need to stop taking what we have for granted; need to truly appreciate all that we have. We are so blessed, so rich, yet in the ways that count- sometimes very poor.
   Please, as you celebrate Christmas, do it with our troops in mind. And then, as the New Year begins, consider making a commitment to pray for our troops every day; and not pray only, but do something for them.

Type  Support Our Troops in your toolbar and a page will come up giving you all kinds of ways to help.

I'd like to wish every one of you a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year too.
Remember that the new year gives us another opportunity not only do better, but to be better too. I love do-overs. Don't you?

A SIMPLE GIFT

I'd been sitting at the computer for several hours, updating journals and answering mail, when I got an email from a friend. She asked me to pray for a little boy who has cancer." He's just five years old." she wrote," and his Grandmother is very worried about him."
    I wrote her back, asking  her to send me the Grandmother's email address. As soon as I received it, I wrote the grandmother, asking her to tell me about her grandson. The letter she wrote me was long, and quite sad. Her love for her grandson was so great, that the very thought of losing him was making her ill. "I can't sleep," she wrote, "and can't keep food down much either. I cry all the time. My precious Marco (her grandson) is my heart. He has been in and out of the hospital, Barb, since he was three and a half. The cancer went away, but came back again, six months ago. The chemo is not helping much. He is wasting away, is but skin and bones. "
    I asked about Marco's parents. She wrote "His father cries almost as much as I do. His mother is like a zombie, just walks around the house, doing things that need to be done, then sits down and stares into space.
   And Marco's little brother, who is three, keeps begging to see Marco. But Marco won't see him. He gets hysterical if asked to see his brother. He says "I'm ugly now, with no hair. I don't want my brother to see me." so the parents don't make him. They try to keep him calm as they can.
Barb, this is so hard. What will I do if my sweet Marco dies?  I don't know what to do to help him. He looks like a little old man; never smiles any more, doesn't talk much, just gets more depressed."
    Sleep became rather elusive, once I began writing Marco's grandmother. I kept thinking of this small child, so loved, who was dying a little every day. I prayed about it; asked God to bless Marco and his family, and to help me find a way to lift their spirits. He did.
    I  bought two big bottles of Bubbles, 1 smaller bottle of Bubbles, and six fancy Bubble wands. I also purchased a miniature Bambi (stuffed animal).
    Angels must have delivered Marco's present, because it seemed I barely sent it, when I got a thank you letter from his Grandmother.
   She said, "Dear Barb. I can't thank you enough. I wish you could have been here when my sweet Marco opened the gift you sent. He is very weak, and the medicine he's taking makes him  very sleepy at times too, so when he got the present unwrapped, it took him a few minutes to realize what he was looking at. He was too weak to open the bottle of bubbles, so I did. I dipped a wand into the bottle, then waved it back and forth. Bubbles were everywhere, BIG ones as well as little ones. Marco's smile, Barb, lit up the room. He said,"Let me try, Grandma." I held the bottle, while he dipped the wand. When he waved it back and forth and saw the bubbles, he laughed, Barb...for the first time in many months. And not only that, he said, "Go get Anthony (his little brother)
so he can blow bubbles too. And the sweet Bambi, Barb, he plays with it all day, and at night, when he goes to sleep, he places Bambi on his pillow. "

A small gift, bubbles, but what huge blessings came out of that gift.
Marco's grandmother tells me that Marco never runs out of Bubbles. It has become his favorite thing. This happened three years ago. Marco is now eight, has thick, curly hair and runs and plays like any other eight-year old boy.
    And Bubbles? I keep many bottles on hand. I take some with me and hand them out to kids, to people sitting alone on a bench, to family members, to neighbors, to anybody who crosses my path. Sometimes I sit on our patio, and blow bubbles. Try it, silly as it sounds. You just might be surprised. The simplest of things often are the easiest and cheapest way, to help another smile again. 

First Impressions

People matter to me so I go out of my way to understand them; to learn what makes them happy, angry, sad, disappointed, hopeful, depressed, or fearful. I try to learn what makes them feel good about themselves, hate themselves, get to the point that they want to give up. I like to know why some people are so successful, while others struggle just to make ends meet; like to know why some individuals have dreams and set goals, while others set no goals, don't even have a dream.
  
What I know about people, including myself, is that their inside seldom matches their outside. It is wise to look behind angry words. An angry person is usually a hurting person. A smile doesn't always mean a person is happy, tears don't always mean a person is sad.
     People who don't cry are sometimes seen as too emotional. But quite often it's simply their way of keeping strong. It happens sometimes, that if you've cried openly, shared that deep sorrow, and got put down for it, were criticized and ridiculed, you no longer cry; or if you do, it is when you are alone. As well, many hurting people are afraid to let themselves cry; believing that once they start they might not be able to stop.
  
We all influence somebody at some point in our lives, but may not realize it. And, on the other side of the coin- we are influenced by another person's confidence, their strong faith, their talent, perhaps just their ability to express themselves. We're influenced by those who climbed to the top, when others failed to believe they'd be able too.
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People wear masks; pretending to be happy, when they aren't, pretending to be alright, when inside, they are falling apart. They pretend to be satisfied with their looks, but in reality hate themselves, always wishing they were different.

People pretend to be strong because others tell keep telling them how strong they are. It never occurred to them to just be honest and say."Look, I"m not feeling strong today." They may be feeling  afraid, insecure, lost and misplaced, or worse, losing the desire to live. Many people would find it difficult to say, "Could you stay with me for a little while, or call me? I'm really struggling today, could use some help."

People have become cautious, find it difficult to trust any more. Our world has become a dangerous place, is filled with violence, and threats of violence. People,  being fearful,  withdraw, too many, making a fortress out of their home. They are too fearful to venture out. Their comfort zones have shrunk. Where once it covered a huge amount of space- it now covers  home, to the store, to a relatives house, a doctor maybe, and to church. Some people are afraid to even enjoy their front yards. It is wise to be cautious, but a mistake, I believe, to let those who are evil have such control over lives. Bad things happen to good people too.

 Shared this because it is the holiday season; a time for sharing our love, our friendship, as well as food, and perhaps shelter for somebody. So many people, even in our own neighborhoods, could use some support, an invitation to a meal, a home visit, an unexpected email, a letter of encouragement. We all have something to share. I hope this day finds each of you doing well, in reasonably good health, in touch with family and friends, and remembering how unique- how special you are.

Have an awesome day. And don't forget that life is short, so create a beautiful memory.