The dog was looking directly at me, and I could swear it had a look of pity in his little brown eyes.  

I was driving to a meeting, my mind on a dozen other things when I pulled up to a stop sign at the bottom of my neighborhood.  The dog living on the corner was out in his yard on that rather cool early Spring day. 

The people who live there love their pets, so they take particularly good care of them, and this day it meant that the dog was wearing a little hoodie.  It fit him perfectly.  

The problem was that I was wearing the same damn hoodie (different size).  I sat there in my car a moment when it sunk in that I was dressed like the dog – and the look in his eyes made me think that he seemed slightly offended.  (Okay, maybe that was my imagination, but I’m not sure.)

How had I come to this moment?  Sure, it was just a funny coincidence, but but on the other hand, it represented how far I had fallen recently.  I was dressed like a freaking dog!  (Although I love dogs.)

My deterioration began innocently enough.  Through the last few years it seemed that almost everything else had taken priority over me, the way I felt of certainly the way I looked.  I was getting older and that youthful enthusiasm for going out was certainly becoming a thing of the past.  

How does that happen to us?  Should we do anything about it? 

The main thing I want to say about all of this is that it matters!  When we neglect ourselves it sends a message to the world that we have less value, and it sends the same message to us on an emotional level.  It’s really about falling into a rut and not making an effort.

Having hit rock bottom, which I will define as finding oneself dressed like a local pooch, I had to face tough facts.  I had let this happen, it had been having consequences, and I had to turn this car around.  

It makes me angry when people tell a stressed person to “take time for themselves” as it is really just an insult.  It isn’t that easy for many overwhelmed people.  

First I would suggest being realistic about time constraints.  Don’t become more guilty about not doing enough self care or falling behind.  Don’t expect to “take time” but rather, schedule some time to do something unusual rather than trying to relax the traditional way.  

For example, trying an Escape Room could be a great way to give yourself some time, a new experience, and you’ll be sharpening other skills as well.   Or take a one time class of any sort.

It goes without saying that exercise is helpful, but seriously, it’s hard to get started.  But what about watching dance tutorials on Youtube.  It is less time expended, relaxing in mind and body, and it’s a beginning if you just start to get up and move.  Anything is better than nothing.

Breaking habits and ruts is the key.  Sort out your closet, but only in brief increments.  Watch tv shows that are helpful and encouraging (I like Queer Eye).  Watch a comedy special instead of the same old shows on tv, and get an endorphin boost.  Learn to tell a joke, or some small skill that will break the routine. 

Just try anything! Maybe that’s the key. Again, anything is better than nothing. Any attempt to turn it around for yourself is better than giving up.  Anything is a beginning.  We often think that change can only occur when we throw ourselves into a big renewal project. I find change occurs in drops not in buckets.

So, having found myself dressed like a dog, I know it is time to pay attention and begin again.  There are reasons I found myself neglected and overwhelmed, but I won’t fix it all at once.

Today, I am getting a new hoodie.  That’s the best I can do, for now.

“Have you been able to drive by Mimi’s house?”  

I knew what my husband was asking.  It wasn’t about the house.  It had been a year of firsts for me, and yet there were things I had not been able to make myself do, yet.  

The firsts included a first Christmas, New Year’s Eve, Springtime, Birthday without my best friend of many years, Mimi.  But I hadn’t been able to drive that road to where she had lived, and see, for the first time a house now empty.  

My friend, who I met when I was ten years old, had died within two months of her cancer diagnosis. She was young and it seemed so fast I couldn’t comprehend, still can’t, that it could happen to someone as filled with life as she was. 

Perhaps that sounds cliche, because, of course it happens to people of all ages and situations, and it’s sad that we don’t understand that fragility of life until it strikes someone we love.  

This isn’t about cancer.  I’ve lost my parents to cancer. It’s about losing friends, and finding out that we’ve lost ourselves as well.  Parts of who we are live in the memories of friends who share our lives.  My sister used to say she needed a “life witness” or someone to remember who she was along the way, so she could share a memory or experience, and it would remain real. 

So, I relive, alone, times that I shared with Mimi. I can’t help myself.  We just passed the one year anniversary of her death, and I have had dreams about her every night.  As I slowly wake up in the morning, I am confused as to what really happened.  Can she be gone?

It’s been a year and I am beginning to believe that it all happened, and that life now is different and always will be.  She will begin to wane, like the old pictures we have of former years, she will lose the clarity of presence, the colors will fade.  

What remains?  Of course the memories, and they are priceless, but now unspoken.  No one wants to reminisce about times they don’t recall.  I know.  Yet there are times when I hear myself speaking her name, laughing about something we did, crying because she would have loved this moment or that thing.  

That is what mourning truly looks like.  It isn’t those first days and weeks of tears and changes, although that is part of it.  It is the years after that of a space in life that will never be filled.  No one you know and love is replaceable.  

I will treasure the wild tales I review in my dreams, waking or sleeping.  I wish I could look into the eyes of a friend who knew the childhood me, and the hopes and dreams that we spun on long summer nights as we took our first steps out into the world.

When I meet new people, make new friends, perhaps they will be even more precious to me because I know how fleeting it all is.  And just for my own hearts sake, I might tell a story about an amazingly funny friend I had.  Please be patient with me if I need to share those once in a while.  

Her name was Mimi.  You would have loved her.

I once had a boss who was so mean that his personal assistant occasionally put dirt from the floor into his herbal tea.  I’m fairly sure he never found out because I sure didn’t tell him.

I know I should have warned him, but I was young and he was just so mean.   His employees needed the jobs, he knew it, and he took advantage of everyone he could.  

At the time I rationalized that he might be making up for a bad childhood or something but now I can see that I was that one rationalizing working for a jerk because I needed a job.  

The first red flag was when, during my interview for the job,  he called in other employees, males, to tell him if I “looked good enough” to work there.  I thought it was some sort of a joke because who would do something like that?  Later I found out they had to rate my appearance to him before he hired me. It was the late 1980’s and women were expected to put up with shenanigans so I just focused on getting a job I wanted and I thought my hard work would end the foolishness.  (You can laugh at my naivete.)

This was all a case of  “I should have known what I was getting myself into” but my youth and hope blinded me to what the daily experience of that place would be. 

The other people I worked with were some of the best and nicest I’ve ever met, which created a strange tension.  Slowly I began to get used to the abuse, because they all seemed okay with it too.  

The Boss once had my office door locked because I was five minutes late.  He didn’t want to hear my excuse that my neighbor had fallen down with a heart attack that morning and I stayed with him until the ambulance came.   I had to profusely apologize in order to get back into my office.  He screamed at me but I felt I needed my job.

The presence of employees was mandatory at parties he held in his home where he would show off his lavish lifestyle, and insult us by using mean nicknames “all in fun” then tell terrible off color stories.  He was the king and we were serfs in his weird kingdom.

Each morning as I began the ride up the long driveway to the office, I would hold back tears and focus on how I needed to do this to take care of my family, and it was a good job.  I thought I was being honorable for those who depended on me. At the time I never told anyone what was going on because I was embarrassed by it all.  The ends justified the means in my mind.

There began a turning point however when, during my commute I would imagine my joy on the day that I would drive out of that place for the last time.  My day would come I promised myself.  It did.

It happened suddenly when I was interviewing a camera man to film a commercial and the Boss called us in where he proceeded to tell the man I was incompetent, then he insulted the man himself, and off handedly made remarks about the man’s obvious disability, which was cerebral palsy.  

The camera man quickly left, (he had some dignity) but the experience had been my tipping point.  As the Boss’s “jokes” about the man and his disability went on, I blew up.  Finally.  I told him what I thought of his insults, name calling, and abuse.  On the way out of his office I announced that I was giving my two week notice. 

Within minutes his assistant came to my office to tell me to get out immediately, and I gladly did.  I finally made that drive down the long entrance road for the last time.  I was free, but there would be a price to pay.  

That Boss called people in my career field and encouraged them to never hire me.   He took the time to try to wreck my prospects, my reputation with lies and innuendo, and for a while it worked.  I always wondered why anyone would believe him when he had a reputation for being so cruel.  

Yet, it felt like that mean Boss didn’t have to pay for what he had done to me and many others.  In the end, much later, he did.  It took years though, and his punishment was not equal to the pain he had caused so many.  It still makes my angry.

I wish I could say it was smooth sailing after I survived the entire episode, but it was not.  As a result of it all, my family and I went through a tough time, and again I did my best to hide it even from them since it was my responsibility and doing, and they were forced to share the suffering. 

Perhaps, I was absorbing punishment for having ever allowed myself to get caught up in such a negative place.  It hadn’t been a mystery, there were red flags from the first day.  Warnings that I did not heed.  

People say that Evil comes in disguise, but no.  I have seen Evil arrive, reveal it’s lies, ill intent, and people still accept it because Evil brings false promises of an illusive reward.  

The trouble starts when the voice of Evil changes it’s tune.  Once you are there for a reward, the words change to those of shame, self destruction, guilt, and all manner of negative characterizations.  I know because I’ve been there.  You may have too.

However, my experiences have given me more compassion and open heart toward others who endure that which they cannot control.  I understand what it is like to be powerless, and I know how it feels to be hurt.  

So, with regard to people who are cozying up to Evil, are mean and insulting, take advantage and lie: hey I see them but I wouldn’t want to BE them!!

You want to know what I learned, in the end, about all of this and how I feel when I see the booming activity of internet Trolls, evil dictators, those who use others, a lack of compassion for those who are in need and cannot help themselves?  We have the right, the command, the mission to stand up and say “We do not have to live like this!!!!” We have a right to fight Evil.   

Are you good with that?  I mentioned last week at Church that ultimately you are in or you are out!  No means to an end foolishness.  No looking away from abuse and injustice.  These issues need to be addressed in a way that will change things – so your griping on Facebook or Twitter doesn’t count for a damn thing.   

If you hadn’t figured it out, I am a Christian and that’s my deal, but if you have a different deal, then you can fill in the blanks with what I am about to say.  

In my tradition, the first three chapters of the Gospel of Mark read like a freaking action movie, staring Jesus, who takes on and then crushes every manner of Evil he can reach and he does it real fast.  Point being, that stuff can change, that we can endure, that we are not alone, and we should be ready for the fight.

Looking back, I don’t know what the heck I was ever thinking by going into the world and not expecting a guy like my Boss to be under every rock.  I was vulnerable because I didn’t like to think that way, and I felt powerless – both of those things changed.  

I’m going on too long but my point is that we have to reject, and stand up to, and fight evil.  You can’t find any?  Are you out of your mind?  Look around and do something!  Don’t stand for the crap.  You are not alone.  

I have plans to follow, and protests to begin, and I see a world of options for my energy and hope.  We can’t do everything, we are meant to complete our own mission.  Getting caught up in too many things waters down your power.  But do something!  Be about something!  Don’t put up with abuse, don’t watch bullies get away with it, don’t allow those in power to abuse it, just start somewhere.

I’ve run out of energy, so I’ll take a breath.  (Serenity now.)  But look around and find your way, based on what you can do to change the way things are!  It’s really exciting.  That day of talking back to my Boss felt great!  It got me though the tough times ahead. 

You have a mission – and something in your life will point you in the right direction.  If you don’t mind my saying so:  You are on a mission from God.  Are you in or out?  (If you are out,  don’t be surprised if someone puts dirt in your tea.)  

Are YOU in or out?  

Playing outside all day in the summer, tagging home base, chasing lightening bugs at dusk, and creating a make believe world with neighborhood kids belonged to the memories of my generation, and it was fun.  Yet if you were also from that era, then you may additionally have some anxiety ridden recall of a “game” from childhood aptly entitled “Monkey in the Middle.”  If you do, and if, like me you have personally experienced the “monkey” part, then your blood just ran cold at the reminder.  

If you don’t recall it, I will explain: The experience involves one person (designated as the “monkey”) between two or more “players” who have taken an article belonging to said “monkey” such as a hat, book, toy, (and definitely the dignity) and then toss it back and forth between “players” over the “monkey’s” head, just out of reach, until the “monkey” is exhausted, perhaps angry, definitely defeated.  

The end of the game is often marked by the demand that monkey calls the magic word “Uncle.” (Why, this particular phrase is used to indicate unconditional surrender is one of the mysteries of the universe.)  The “players” then drop the tossed item in the dirt, over a hill, or they might just hand it back.  This finale of the game is what one might call the “players choice.”   Fun times.

I was a small kid, younger than others in my class, and not athletic so I had to know my way around the contest of being Monkey.  This was only made more challenging by the honed skills of the neighborhood Monkey in the Middle Champ Nicky Gasparato, due in part to his athletic ability plus the tag team power of he and his brother Larry.  (They did grow up to be nice; but I digress.)

The reason I bring up this classic childhood game is because I have been fighting with some of the same feelings and frustrations that were part of that ghastly game. It was easier when at least we had a name for it, and I knew I was “in the middle” and I understood that the rules were stacked against monkey-me. 

I was never the kid on the outside of the ring, and for that I am oddly thankful, but I accepted my trial in the game as part of life, which it was for many of us. Now, when I feel frustrated because my goals seem just out of reach, I admit I can feel more permanently beaten.  

As a kid, I knew that tomorrow was another day, and that by the evening we would be back to jump rope, or chalk coloring on the sidewalk, or I’d get friends to play my games which was their payment for winning Monkey in the Middle.  

We never gave up, or got so angry that truly mean words were spoken, and we continued to believed that it was possible, it just could happen, that one day we’d catch our book or jacket as it sailed over our head from our spot as monkey in the middle.  Gosh I need those skills again!

No, not the skills of losing the game, but the skills of never letting anything be the last word.  As kids we were unendingly creative, and more resilient than one might imagine. The experience might be horrible, but we knew that the game would change.  (And if it got out of hand there was always: “I’m gonna tell,” as a very last ditch, which meant that we were aware that we are not alone in our little world.)

Today, there is a lot of negativity flying around, but we might be best if we let that sort of thing go over our heads.  It’s important that we never give up, we just can’t!  There are still adventures, battles, and more than ever there are injustices to fight.  I love being creative, I love seeing the creative spark in people around me.  

We went through a lot as kids, some kids much more than others, and it’s a challenging time to live.  So, I’ve been dusting off my Monkey in the Middle ability to take it, as it is, as it comes, with less animosity, less anger, and certainly with a belief that there is always hope! 

We may be on different sides at times but we are in this game together.  I really mean this: I’m a Monkey in the Middle survivor, I’ve got my faith, my crew, and nothing scares me anymore.  

“…for God did not give us a spirit of cowardice, but rather a spirit of power and of love and of self-discipline.” 2 Timothy 1:7

Did you watch the royal wedding this past weekend?  Many people did, and the change that Meghan Markle (now Her Royal Highness) is making reflects major steps forward!  She seems wonderful, and has always had a heart for helping people and encouraging girls and women.  (This is where we all clap for her – or curtsey, as you will.)

I like the Royal family, they generate a ton for the UK, but even if you watched the wedding you were likely not invited, not just because you don’t actually know Meghan or Harry, but because we don’t frequent the world in which they live.  Meghan had famous friends due to the miracle of being successful in the entertainment industry (in no small part due to her looks), but if she had been a teacher, social worker, accountant, or if she had a weight problem, a weird feature, then her odds would have been fairly low (like 0%) of gaining the attention of a Royal.  (Kate drew William’s attention as a model in a lingerie fashion show.)

I’ve watched little girls and young ladies interviewed on the news proclaiming that Meghan has given them new confidence, and that is great.  Meghan as a bi-racial, divorced, American can still jump social barriers, and I cheer along with everyone.  

However, she still ascended based on her appeal to a man who had the power (from birth) to offer the “success” she now enjoys.  She will follow royal protocol, and have too much attention from the press, but I still feel that is not so much of a price to pay for absolute freedom from worry about bills, healthcare, education and opportunities for your children, and being overworked on a daily basis.  You know, like the rest of us.  But we rarely articulate all of that.  

Truth is that our “role models” as women are often those who gained their opportunities based on their appeal to the right man.  It doesn’t lessen their power or my admiration for the work that they do, however it is a subtext that we seem okay with ignoring and never speaking aloud.  (Maybe we can sing it. I was once watching a very old movie in which Al Jolson, surrounded by a chorus line of dancing women, sang the song, “You’d Better Stay Young and Beautiful If You Want to Be Loved.” Yep.)

I’ll say it: Meghan is a royal because Harry chose her.  She couldn’t earn it or aspire to it because it comes only through the grace of a man who has the power to choose.  Is that the story that is giving girls confidence?  I guess it is, because in reality there is so much truth to it.

If you admire any First Lady, we can applaud their good work, but they didn’t apply for the job.  They married it.  The only woman on the list of the wealthiest people in US was born into it. The wealthiest women in the world are “heiresses” or married a wealthy man.  We can’t compete with that, and there is no college major for “marrying into a rich family.”  

For the men, I can’t imagine the pressure in life to try to compete in a world where the “competition” has been handed the trophy of family wealth from the get go.  They can occasionally “marry” for stability but for the most part it is up to them.  (Although I did see Elton John’s husband at the royal wedding, so there is some hope, guys.) 

Yes, I have lots of issues with this entire subject, but it was summed up in a video posted by an Irish mom who had to explain to her lovely young daughter that she was NOT going to the royal wedding – because it isn’t for people like her.  (Cue the sound of my heart breaking for her.) That’s a hard lesson to learn: not for people like us.  

What is my point with all of this?  I suppose I would like us to speak more honestly about the conundrum, and question the class system, but I don’t know if that will ever change anything.  What I will speak for is holding up our own value, our own support of one another, our own ability to do good in our little part of our own little non-royal world, and not placing too much attention on those places where we are not invited.  

Our role models can be the teachers, parents, hard working men and women who truly make the world better, day by day, with no fanfare, no castles or carriages to keep them separate and special.  The women and men who change our lives rarely get a curtsey, or even a decent “thank you!” for all that they do.  I would like to change that….but…?

I’ll enjoy the news of the royal couple, wish them well, enjoy their lives and work from the internet sites that constantly feed us updates on “important” people like them.  But like the rest of you I will get up in the morning, and again try to do what I believe is the right thing, even when no one is watching, even though I will never be a guest at the Palace.  

I mean, does it really make anyone a better person if they are famous or royal?  Hey, the Bible tells us that we are all sons and daughters of the Most High God, so maybe we should act like it; and if I want a crown I can always go to Burger King!

“For all who are led by the Spirit of God are children of God.  So you have not received a spirit that makes you fearful slaves. Instead, you received God’s Spirit when he adopted you as his own children. Now we call him, “Abba, Father.”  For his Spirit joins with our spirit to affirm that we are God’s children. And since we are his children, we are his heirs.” Romans 8: 14-17 

As I stood, mesmerized, in front of the wall display of Jimmy Choo designer shoes, time stood still.  When I finally looked around, Richard had a bewildered look on his face.  He had a shoe in his hand with the price tag dangling from it, so I’m guessing he was a victim of “sticker shock” and may have feared that I had been caught in the siren call of lavish footwear.  Jimmy Choo shoes are pricey.  

The alluring display was at the local “Fancy Mall” and although I was taking a rare walk through a store, the shiny and colorful high heels caught my eye and stopped me.  There was a time when I was well acquainted with those sorts of shoes, and I had even developed a near athletic level of proficiency such that I could run in high heels through gravel, no prob. It was the equivalent, in my day, of a gold medal winning triple lutz in figure skating.  Yes, I had shoe skills.  I’m sure you have unique abilities too.

At one time I knew the world of labels like Chanel (two C’s), Louboutin (red soles), Vuitton (LV), and so on.  It was a place that I inhabited for a relatively brief time in my life, but having come out of a strictly K-Mart blue light special and Murphy’s bargain basement context, I found that my ticket to an upscale atmosphere was somehow healing, like a super weird and expensive band-aid. 

I worked and I explored various and ridiculous things in order to feel as though I was permitted to be more than where I had come from.  I have some great memories along with a few regrets because flashy products and events can be distracting. I can’t go back now but I learned from it all.

When the kids were young I insisted on taking them, at least once, to the Opera, a ballet, a Broadway show, a dress up special event, a nice restaurant.  It wasn’t because I particularly wanted them to love any of it, but I wanted them to know that they could get through the doors to those elegant venues, and they belonged wherever they wanted to be.  They belonged.

So now, let me be clear about what I want to say to you: any and every good thing is for you.  You are permitted and worthy of the good things in life, enjoyment, meaningful missions, love and respect…every good thing.  If you, (like many of us) grew up questioning whether or not “people like us” could enjoy culture, education, true love, or an abundant and blessed life, then let me give you the holy truth: you are worth it, absolutely, no doubt.  If you believe and accept this, it will save you a whole lot of time and heartache, along with missteps and detours in life.  

Back at the mall, I didn’t even try on the Jimmy Choos, or the Valentinos, or the Manolo Blahniks, because they don’t appeal to me at this point; although I still like a lovely shoe and I have enough.  (I think Richard was relieved although he is valiant enough to always tell me I can get what I want.)  

I do still use nice perfume and I go to the Opera because those are things I truly enjoy.  The point is that my choices are no longer bound to my sense of worth or if the world values me or not, and I don’t have to prove anything to myself anymore.  I fought that battle already.  Oh, I have other battles to face, for sure, but life is a challenge.  It’s become more fun to give things than to get things at this point, so I have evolved.   

So next time you pass the luxury shoes, try them on if you get the urge, just to see how it feels.  Much like Cinderella, (or Cinderfella for the guys?) I’ll bet they fit just fine.  Hey, maybe test drive a dream car, Prince or Princess Charming.  You don’t have to choose those items, you don’t have to have that overpriced stuff.  The point is that you are worth it all just the same, and you can’t put a label on that!  

PS: God really loves you – exactly as you are.

“Well, that happened,” I said to Richard as I looked at a photo taken at my Ordination, eighteen years ago today.  

Have you ever looked at old photos of yourself and wondered about that person looking back at you from another time?  My first inclination, after gratitude, was to look at myself with some embarrassment because, gosh, I look much older now, and the dreams I had…well many of them remain in my heart, yet unrealized.   

That person in my old pic still looks shiny, and look at her smile, and see how she is surrounded by friends and family who have passed on and therefore closed the book of their earthly life?  Yet, here I am, with years of my life written that were only imagined at that long ago time.  And I wonder.

 That woman in the photo has not experienced the hollow sadness of the losses to come, the sharp pain of disappointment, the ache of guilt or regret, the breathless joy of dreams that have come true, of love bestowed, or gifts received; but all of those things are on the horizon, just out of her sight.  I am grateful for that wonderful Ordination day, but having celebrated it again today I put the pictures away, knowing that while all of them are cherished memories, those photos are no longer me.

So I turn away from an old photograph, and into a mirror of this day.  I see the lines on my face formed by tears of joy and sorrow that made my life deep and full, the sadder eyes that have recognized the reality of changes in the world that leave us wrung out at times yet hopeful, the smile tempered by the absence of loved ones who are no longer here with me but linger in memory and spirit.  I have changed. 

Yet, every line, imperfection, ache, pain, or regret has come from living this amazing life.  This gift of life has included experiences that have marked me, changed me, even wounded me (much as my ancestor in faith Jacob when confronted with the reality of God’s presence all along).  

Here’s the truth:  I wouldn’t change a thing. I wouldn’t rid myself of one sleepless night of mourning, not one tear of concern or love, not one moment of experience although I have at times been driven to my knees by the weight of life.  I wouldn’t change a thing because it has given me the love, the laughter, the people, the creativity that forms my life today.  So often unbidden, God was leading me, and although I rarely knew it in the moment, I know it now. 

Looking at my old photograph reminds me of how much has changed, and I think of it all as I contemplate that special day all those years ago.  I am so grateful. That happened.  It all happened.  Life goes on.  And I thank God. 

“I can’t wait to find out what Richard is getting for his birthday,” I said to the kids this week. They all laughed. My husband Richard’s birthday falls during Holy Week this year- so we’ll have to plan to celebrate at some later time.

However, everyone in our family had to laugh again at what happened last year. Last year we had gotten into the rut of not paying attention to each other. The needs of friends, family, etc. can absorb our time very quickly. It’s too easy to disconnect or take blessings for granted.

At Richard’s birthday dinner and I gave him a beautifully wrapped gift; and when he opened it, he found a bottle of MY favorite perfume. He seemed confused, until I explained that I knew that nothing would make him happier than giving, and since he had been so busy, my gift to him was giving him a gift – to give to me. My favorite perfume!

Sounds selfish – and I confess it is, a bit. Yet, he says was his most cherished gift. It said to him that I understood his hectic schedule and I knew his intention is to give and show love. It told him that he is still my hero, who gives me what I love. It gave him an opportunity to do what I know means more to him than anything – to give.

Okay, what about you? It’s easy to complain that our family takes us for granted; but what if we assume the best, and help them to give – then shower them with appreciation? Letting people know how much they give to us through their kindness is a gift back to them. Letting people know that they bring great value to us is a gift to them too.

So, what will Richard get for his birthday? Hmmm…that perfume was nice – but the important gift is telling him how valuable he is to me, and that I know how generous he is. Does that make sense? Either way I come out smelling sweet. Blessings, and I’ll see you in church!

“Until now you have asked nothing in My name. Ask, and you will receive, that your joy may be full.” John 16: 24