I'm baaaaaack!!!!

I can't believe it's been a whole year since I've posted anything here. Where has it gone? I was going to be consistent with a blog, but life happens, I guess. In fact, I lost my blog address. Fortunately, I found it again. So let me update everyone on what's been going on in my life. I've been in Texas for the past year, and it's been a crazy time. I have never seen such a hot place. Literally. Here it is, February 14, and it was 72 degrees today. Supposed to be 75 tomorrow. I used to think I would really like that -- the heat during the winter, that is. But I've discovered that it's not as fun as I figured it would be. Being from northwest Indiana, I just plain ol' got tired of the snow every winter. There was tons of it each season. Big, thick blankets of it, even. And months of dreary days. Blah. Depressing. I hated that, and I still do. I don't want months of snow, ice and frigid cold. But I don't want months of heat, either. I guess I should explain. This past summer here was, in my humble opinion, pretty much hell on earth. I got here in January, and by March, it was pretty warm. Ok, I thought, I can handle that. Then it got warmer. And warmer. And by May, it was reaching the high 90s. It just continued to get warmer and warmer. We had a whole summer -- literally -- of 100-plus degree days. No break. Day after day after day. No rain came. Just scorching heat. I have never seen such a dry, crackly place. There was a pond at the place I was living, and it almost dried up. Everything was parched. In fact, the fire danger was sky-high, and the area where I was living had a massive wildfire that destroyed numerous homes. Suffice it to say that by the time October rolled around, I was hoping for some relief. But it hasn't come yet -- we have been mostly in the 60s and 70s this winter. We had 10 minutes of snow the other day. That was it. I MISS the snow -- at least a little of it. I want to experience the seasons again. I don't think there will be a spring here. We'll just dive right into hot summer in about a month and it will be here for a long time. I am not looking forward to it. I'm really missing Tennessee. I loved it in the Pigeon Forge area, and if God allows, I'd like to head back that way. It would be a relief to be back there in the green beauty of the Smoky Mountains. It has been so dry and brown here. So this is my update on my life for right now. We will see how and where God leads. He might have me stay right here, and I guess that's OK if it's being in the center of his will. I'm hoping for something else, but I'll do whatever he says. Stay tuned and I promise to write more!!!

A month of changes

Have you ever followed a cloud by day and a fire by night? Hmmm, you're wondering. What's she talking about????

Let me explain. Do you remember the story of the Israelites and how they wandered in the wilderness? In Exodus 13:21-22, it says "And Jehovah went before them by day in a pillar of cloud, to lead them the way, and by night in a pillar of fire, to give them light; that they might go by day and by night; the pillar of cloud by day, and the pillar of fire by night, departed not from before the people."

Clear leading. If you have a pillar of cloud in the day and a pillar of fire in the night, it's kinda hard to miss the twists and turns in front of you. That's how my life has been this past month. God has made it very clear where I'm supposed to be and what I'm supposed to do. It doesn't always happen that way, let me tell you. But it's exciting when it does.

I'm in Texas right now. I was in Tennessee. How did that happen, you wonder. Me too, sometimes. And yet it did. A series of events unfolded before me -- that cloud by day and pillar by night -- that began with getting laid off from my job in Tennessee and moved into a clear leading on what I was supposed to take with me to Texas (I stored everything that I couldn't fit in my car and it waits for me back in Tennessee) and when I was supposed to leave (there was a small window of opportunity between the snow storms that kept pelting Tennessee).

So I left the Volunteer state and drove for two days to Texas. On the day I pulled into Austin, I got a phone call from a newspaper that I had sent a resume to the week before. Now mind you, I had been sending resumes out for several months, and had not received one call about it. This paper is two hours from Austin -- close to Emily and the kids, and closer to Houston than Austin. I did not care for Austin.

I drove out for the interview, and was hired that day. Amazing? No. One more step along the constantly illuminated route. I had been trying to find a cheap weekly hotel in Austin, but when the job came through, that plan quickly changed and I paid for a week at a hotel 25 miles from my new job. I started work that next Monday, and began looking in earnest for an apartment, as I only had enough money for one week at the hotel and did not get paid for two weeks.

Was I going to be homeless after that week? No. Pillars again. I looked at several apartments and none seemed to be right. Finally, I was directed to a man who owned several apartments in town, and he let me move into one with no cash outlay until my paycheck came. People have brought me a couch, a tv, a mattress and more.

I am where I am supposed to be. I am doing what I am supposed to be doing. No doubts. I am working at a newspaper as an editor, and I am enjoying it. And I am very aware that God has me here for a reason.

It is satisfying to know that God has been leading me so obviously. Scary, too. It has been a month of big changes, but God has comforted and led me through it all. I await the next twist and turn on this road before me.

God is moving...and so am I!!!!

Wow. I stand amazed at how God is working in my life right now. Overwhelming.

I have been wanting to go to Texas to be with my daughter and grandkids for several months now, but the time has not been right. I needed to work and save up money to make this grand move, so I stayed. And I waited for a sign that it was time to go. Well, several weeks ago I just knew it was right. Time to get started packing and readying to move down the road. I wasn't sure how I was actually going to do it -- takes a lot of money to make that kind of a change, and I didn't have a job or apartment or anything.

I've never been one to shy away from stepping out on faith, but this one was pretty scary. I've been steadily packing. And packing. And I put a bunch of stuff up on Craigslist that I was wanting to get rid of before I left (and of course, the money for it doesn't hurt, either). Well, I was planning on staying here and working -- to save up more money -- until the first part of February. But everything changed today.

I went in to work and there was a note in my mailbox that said to see the Human Resources lady. This is the lull in the year, and our theaters typically lay off several hundred people until March, when the shows resume. Everyone pretty much knew they would be laid off -- but I worked all winter last year and thought it would be the same this year. So the HR lady says she gets the dubious honor of telling me that the company has decided to eliminate my position and I am being laid off -- immediately. Wow. I was counting on several more paydays to give me some extra money. Guess not.

Actually, I had been worrying about this move, because I don't have a job. It's called falling without a net. Hopefully, I could get a job quickly when I got there, because no more money would be coming in for me. Well, it's funny how God sees ahead of us. Because I will be on unemployment very shortly, and it pays almost as much as I make working full-time. So I can make this move knowing that there is an adequate net underneath me. And while I was kinda bummed about being laid off, it turned out to be a blessing in disguise.

And to top it off, I've had people at my house this evening, looking at some of the bigger items that I have to sell. And they bought both of them. So I have enough money to make the move, and enough to live on until I can find a job. And because I am laid off now, I qualify for food stamps, and I'm not too proud to accept them while I'm transitioning.

Praise God for his compassion and care!!!!!

God Knows

By Kim Steele

God knows my heart -- cold and alone

As it threatens to die like a seed on hard stone;

God knows my mind -- too often unpure

And eager to follow sin’s challenging lure;

God knows my body -- its fleshly desire

Draws me through the sharp thorns

of life’s bramble and briar.

God knows my words -- bullets and knives

Carelessly spewed out on innocent lives;

God knows my thoughts -- harboring evil

That blots out the love and gives place to the devil;

God knows my deeds -- selfish and grand

And intent on arrangement

by my human hand.

God knows my weakness -- faith that’s so small

When toddling behind Him I stumble and fall;

God knows my failure -- the goals I can’t reach

And the lessons ignored that He labors to teach;

God knows my sins -- their numbers immense

With all of them lacking

in wisdom and sense.

But God knows my search -- to be honest and wise

As I open my heart and take off my disguise;

God knows my toil -- seeking sweet rest

And eager to lay weary head on His breast;

God knows my cries -- petitions I send

Of peace for the weariness,

hope for the end.

(copyright 2010)

Surprised by God

Oh, I was drowning in a sea of self-pity this afternoon. Sitting in the parking lot, with big ol' crocodile tears running down my cheeks. Hey, it happens. It was just one of those days, you know? The weather was frightful -- cold, cold and more cold, with a good dash of gloomy thrown in for good measure. I did not move to the South to endure this kind of weather. I had more than enough in Northwest Indiana and thought I had left the worst of it behind me. Not. This is supposed to be one of the colder winters on record here. Can't wait (note the hint of sarcasm). And I was missing my grandkids -- haven't seen them in several months and just want to hug them and listen to them chatter on about their lives. Really missed them today. And then, to top it off, I went to the eye doctor recently to get glasses and it cost a lot. Actually, truth be told, I got a great deal on the glasses with my vision insurance. The whole thing -- exam and bifocals (yes, I'm getting old) and glare reduction and frames -- cost a whopping $600, but with my insurance, I only had to pay $200. I was very happy with that, but that $200 was pretty much my grocery money out of this paycheck. So I was feeling the pinch today when I added all the bills and there wasn't much left afterwards. Gotta have the glasses, but man, it hurts. I was just feeling down, with the mix of weather and no grandkids and extra money for glasses. And I cried. So God heard me (doesn't He always, even though sometimes it seems like he's a little deaf???) and surprised me. See, the employees where I work had received a letter from the owners several months ago, saying that because of the bad economy this year, there would be no Christmas bonuses. These are great owners -- they took the employees on a free cruise last year, and gave nice Christmas bonuses last holiday season. So it was obvious they wanted to reward us this year, but had been hit hard by the economy. We all accepted it and moved on. Bummer, but that's life sometimes. Well, I went in to work after my shift tonight and was talking with the accountant about the weather, when she gave me my check stub in an envelope and said to look inside because there was a surprise. I did, and there was a $100 gift card for Walmart, along with a letter from the owners saying they really wanted to show their appreciation to us this year, after all. Keep in mind they have about 400 employees!! I was absolutely shocked at their show of kindness, and could almost feel a big poke on my shoulder and a chuckle from God. Was He listening? You betcha. It was just the shot in the arm that I needed. It's these kinds of things that remind me that God does indeed understand us and know what we need when we are down the most. He picks us back up, brushes away our tears and offers us His love. I am grateful for that today. I really needed that encouragement. And I just want to say thanks.

A short story

Make It Count

By Kim Steele

Jeremy Ross carefully pulled the warped old farmhouse door shut behind him, pausing when its hinges squeaked so he wouldn't wake his father, and stepped onto the screened back porch. The willowy 14-year-old hesitated as he peered into the darkness. It still wasn't too late to turn back.

A sleepy cat mewed and rubbed its coarse, matted fur against Jeremy's leg as he buttoned his coat, tucked his blonde hair under a camouflage hat, and jammed his soft fingers into thick gloves. "Quiet, Brandy," he whispered, gathering the purring calico animal in his arms and setting it on a nearby chair. "You'll wake Dad. Go back to sleep." He squinted at his wristwatch, turned his head to make sure there was no noise from inside the house, then pulled a shotgun from a dark corner of the porch, where he had stashed it the night before. It was 4:30 a.m.

Jeremy opened the screen door and felt his way down the steps and into the yard. As he stood in the dying grass and waited for his eyes to adjust, the cold night air quickly hardened the damp streaks of green and brown crayon decorating his nose and cheeks. Above, white stars played hide-and-seek, winking and blurring before disappearing from view. The sweet warmth of his rumpled blankets beckoned to him, but Jeremy shook his head to dislodge the temptation.

Gathering his courage, he trudged to the yard's edge. A weathered fence post stood nearby, and Jeremy rubbed the bumpy surface as he studied the cornfield beyond it. In the early hours, the dark, broken ground resembled a giant battlefield littered with deadly spears. How ironic. To the boy, this mission was almost like going to war. The only difference was that the enemy would be himself, not someone else.

It wasn't the first time Jeremy had stood here with his heart pounding in his ears. Last year, he helped his father prepare for their first hunt together. Jeremy stuffed a backpack full of supplies while his father regaled him with the stories behind the trophy deer heads hanging on their walls. Jeremy tried to share his father's excitement, but a shudder gripped him when they reached the cornfield and he heard the dry stalks play their death rattle in the wind.

"What's the matter, boy?" his father had growled, glaring at him as Jeremy hesitated. "When I was your age, I couldn't wait for my daddy to take me on my first hunt. It was in my blood, and he knew it. But you act like this is the last thing you want. All I ever see you do is draw birds and flowers. That's sissy stuff. When are you ever going to be a man?"

Jeremy, his face burning, had gripped the shotgun as he scurried behind the tall, broad form, trying to keep up with his big steps. Finally, they stopped under a large oak tree and climbed high into a weathered deer stand his father had built years ago. The boy's stomach fluttered as he gazed at the ground far below them. His father grabbed the shotgun, inserted a shell and handed it to him. "Make it count," the man spat.

It was an admonition that would haunt Jeremy long after the day had ended. Even now, his eyes watered as the scene played in his mind. A delicate doe wandered down the trail, within view of their hiding place, and his father slyly grinned and nodded to him. Arms shaking, Jeremy lifted the shotgun, aimed and pulled the trigger, sending a bullet ripping through the deer's flank. The animal crashed into the woods, a trail of bright red blood marking its path.

Father and son had tracked the doe for a quarter of a mile, until they finally found it lying in a thicket. "Kill it, boy," barked his father. "Don't just stand there." Jeremy stared as the wounded animal struggled to stand again, and when its terrified eyes met his, he burst into tears and turned away. The father's single shot had echoed in Jeremy's ears, and neither spoke to each other for days after the man angrily gutted and dragged the doe out of the woods.

Actually, the long silences weren't new to Jeremy. They began when his mother died almost two years ago. He could still remember his father meeting him at the same porch door after school to tell him she had been killed when her car skidded off a dirt road. Jeremy pulled away and ran to the barn, where he cried until he fell asleep. His father found him later and carried him to his bed.

At first, they tried to struggle through together, but as time went on, they discovered what she had known about her two men for years. Jeremy, a budding artist, had little in common with one who loved to till the raw earth and hunt its bounty. Jeremy could still remember his parents' late-night conversation about him shortly before his mother's death. He had snuck halfway down the stairs, his stomach growling for a snack, when he overheard his mother crying. Jeremy knelt in the shadows and listened.

"Tom, why do you have to be so hard on him all the time?" she asked. "He's going to think you don't love him. Is that what you want? He's such a good boy, and so talented. Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

"Of course it does. I love Jeremy. But the boy has to toughen up or he won't make it out there. It's a hard world. This artwork, well, it's nice, but what's it going to do for him? Maybe he'll make a little money at it someday, but chances are he'll end up farming this land and raising a family here, just like me. I'm preparing him for real life."

Jeremy heard his mother sigh. "Try to encourage him more, Tom," she pled as he stood behind her and stroked her hair. "I want him to have more choices than we ever did. I know you love the farm, but it may not be Jeremy's dream. We've got to be willing to accept that."

Now, the boy swallowed the lump in his throat as he surveyed the field once more. His thoughts returned to the cozy bedroom, and to the small wooden desk that held his pencils and sketch pads. If only his father understood. Drawing a deer, instead of shooting it, meant the animal could return to its natural place in the wilds. And yet, a part of it would always remain with him. To his father, the only part worth holding onto was the animal's stuffed head.

Jeremy tightened his grip on the shotgun. This time, he would show his father he was a man. Another blast of wind roused Jeremy, and he shivered as he stepped between rows of jagged cornstalks that smacked his coat. Soon, he entered the woods, and the hard dirt gave way to a soft layer of leaves. He quickly reached for his flashlight and trained its warm yellow beam on the path. Stark branches, bare from the season, creaked overhead as he stumbled down the trail.

Finally, Jeremy spied the familiar oak tree and directed his lamp beam toward the deer stand. Shoving the flashlight in his pocket and fitting the gun's strap over his shoulder, he planted a mud-splattered boot against the callused trunk and hoisted himself into the branches. He climbed higher, the tree's remaining leaves breaking away and falling to the ground as his hat pushed through them. Positioning his boot above a wide cleft in the trunk, Jeremy pulled himself onto the platform and sat down to wait.

Soon, the darkness surrendered to an overcast sky. Jeremy loaded the weapon and rested it beside him as he watched fat squirrels scurry through the leaves and a brown rabbit cross the trail. Birds scolded him from tree branches. As Jeremy waited, he pulled a small sketch pad from his pocket and penciled the body of a deer. It was the second drawing he had started in as many days. The first deer, its legs too long for its graceful body, lay crumpled on his desk at home.

As the hours dragged and the cold stiffened his fingers, he set aside the pad and began to watch the trail. If necessary, he would wait in this tree all day. He sighed. Would there ever come a time when he didn't have to prove himself? Drawings covered the walls of his bedroom -- colorful birds perched on a feeder outside his window, kittens chasing a butterfly in the yard, a rusted car surrounded by brilliant flowers, his mother kneading bread. Family and friends marveled at the talent, but nothing earned his father's respect – until recently.

Jeremy's art teacher had unexpectedly invited him to draw a series of outdoor scenes for a statewide contest that could earn him a scholarship to college. The boy could hardly contain his excitement as he relayed the teacher's compliments about his artwork to his father. The man listened carefully, then agreed to let Jeremy participate as long as he kept up his farm chores. It was a contest Jeremy's mother would have wanted him to enter, his father gruffly explained later.

A loud snap on the path interrupted Jeremy's thoughts. There, to his right, stood a magnificent buck with antlers proudly arching over its head. The boy was close enough to see the clouds of steam rising from the deer's nostrils. Its large ears twitched as they strained for the unfamiliar sounds of hidden enemies. Satisfied, it thrust its cold, black nose through the dead leaves to a green patch below.

Jeremy's heart pounded. Minutes dragged as he watched the massive animal rip the vegetation from the ground. He inched the shotgun to eye level and aimed at the buck's heart. In an instant, a slug burst from the barrel and buried itself in the target. The deer jumped, twisted in the air, then fell to its knees before picking itself up and hobbling down the path. Jeremy's eyes followed every move, watching in wonder as the animal finally dropped on its side and was silent. Death had come quickly.

Jeremy stared at the deer, then gazed at his hands. His arms shook as he slung the shotgun's strap over his neck and shoulder, hugged the tree and began the climb down. He wanted to touch the deer, ruffle its warm fur and memorize the shape of its body. As Jeremy lowered his boot to a limb below him, a noise from the animal's direction caught his ear. He froze. Could it be getting up? No! He couldn't lose it now. As Jeremy turned toward the path again, his grip loosened and he slid downward.

The boy closed his eyes and grabbed at the tree trunk to slow his descent. He could feel the rough bark tearing his hands as he bounced against the tree and his body twisted. Finally, he stopped. Jeremy cautiously opened his eyes to find himself hanging sideways, about four feet above the ground, with his right foot firmly wedged in the cleft. Jeremy grabbed a nearby limb with one hand and pulled himself up enough to rest his stomach on the branch, then wiggled his foot. It wouldn't budge.

Jeremy clutched at the tree and tried to think. He couldn't hang like this forever. Darkness would come soon, and it would get even colder. Already, his arms ached and his ankle throbbed. Jeremy was sure it was broken. At least he still had the shotgun. There were three shells in his pocket. Surely, if he fired a warning shot each hour, someone would find him. His father would worry when he came in from evening chores and found the boy had not returned. The man would figure Jeremy had ventured into the woods to draw animals and something had happened. A search would begin immediately.

At nightfall, Jeremy managed to discharge his first shot, screaming as the shotgun's kick shook him. The noised echoed through the forest, then silence. The sky was black, except for a few stars twinkling above him. As he waited, Jeremy dug a sharp hunting knife from his coat pocket and reached over to rip the thick leather trapping his foot, which had grown numb. He was so close to freedom. If he could cut the boot open, he could slip out of it and fall the remaining four feet to the leaf-cushioned ground. After an hour, exhausted and bleeding from a deep gash in his leg where the knife had slipped, the boy quit trying.

Frightened now, Jeremy fired another shot and, after the pain subsided, strained to hear familiar voices. Tears filled his eyes as he shivered in the cold night air. None of this would have happened if his mother were alive. He missed the way she studied his sketches, picking out her favorites and framing them. "You're just like your grandfather," she boasted. "My mother would always find him in the woods with his pencils, copying squirrels and wildflowers and anything that would hold still long enough for him to put its likeness to paper. Your father doesn't understand, Jeremy. But I do. You have a very special gift. Don't let it die."

No, his father didn't understand then, and he wouldn't now. Jeremy whimpered. There in the darkness lay the deer he had killed. It was beautiful, and worthy of a place on their wall. But when his father found the boy caught in a tree with a mangled leg, it would be meaningless. Jeremy would have failed -- again. And any dream he had about winning a scholarship would be gone, now that he couldn't do his chores. There would be no drawings.

Jeremy's hand trembled as he reached in his pocket and touched the final shell resting there. His teeth chattered, and his head pounded. Jeremy carefully inserted the shell, then cradled the cold gun in his hand. One shot left.

"Make it count. Be a man." The words swirled in his mind. Swallowing hard, he awkwardly positioned the muzzle under his chin and closed his eyes just before the noise reverberated through the woods.

The two men searching for the boy paused at the sound, and Jeremy's father clutched the crumpled deer sketch he had found on the desk. "Jeremy! Where are you?" he screamed into the black night. The only answer was the pounding of his heart.

(Copyright 2010)

Issues of trust

I have a black and white cat named Bonnet that I rescued from behind one of the theaters that my company owns. His mother is as wild as the wind, and has lived in the stable area there for years. Two of her kittens -- Bonnet and Miracle (a black cat) -- got used to me coming around and feeding them, and I finally was able to catch them in a huge animal carrier by placing wet cat food on a plate inside the carrier and sitting nearby, holding a string that was tied to the carrier door. Now they live at my house. Miracle is the friendlier of the two, letting me pet him every now and then. Bonnet rejects any attempt to pet him, but he loves meat and will get close enough to allow me to place small pieces in front of him. That's the extent of his friendship with humans. See, Bonnet has trust issues. There was a live trap sitting near the barn -- no one had baited it -- and he found his way inside it and got stuck there all night. In his panic to get out, he injured his nose, possibly even breaking it. Bonnet's nose has healed since then, but the experience left him with trust issues. I have a friend -- a human -- who is much like Bonnet. We have been friends for more than a year, and have shared secrets and laughter and dreams, but I have never been invited to her house or met her family. See, this friend was devastated by two horrible experiences in her life. Two people she loved dearly were ripped from her grasp unexpectedly by death, and it has left a jagged scar on her broken heart. I want to get close to Bonnet and to my friend, but they both insist on controlling their situations so they don't get hurt again. And who can blame them? Still, it is frustrating. I'm not going to hurt either one of them, but I can't get them to see that. Is there some way to reach them? How ironic that these thoughts and questions swirl in my mind this Christmas season. None of us -- me included -- is much different from Bonnet or my friend. We all have trust issues. We've all been hurt, but we are petrified of the only One who can help us. There's good reason for that. Just read the Old Testament, and you'll see a magnificent, thundering God who, let's face it, can be downright frightening. Most people were scared of Him. But perhaps that's why God sent his Son to a hurting world in the form of a baby -- the sweetest, tiniest, neediest, most benign form you can find. Who could be afraid of an infant? The world was in awe of him at his birth, and still is today. That's why we celebrate Christmas. God knew what we needed to be able to move beyond our fears and trust Him. He gave us the tender Christ-child. At this special, holy time of year, gather up your courage and reach out for his tiny hand. There's nothing scary about beginning a relationship with someone so accepting and loving.