Monday, December 19, 2011


Hello everyone!  I am posting this from my daughter's home in Connecticut.  This will be the first Christmas I have been able to spend with her and her family in five years.  I have been here since November 17th and I am thoroughly enjoying the grand-kids.  I posted these stories last December and will probably make them an annual post.
Before you get started I want you to know in the first story there are “spoilers” for those of you who may still BELIEVE.  So don’t read any further.
I was in the second grade the fall of 1949, and I had a horrible revelation foisted on me by a mean classmate at school.  My parents found themselves with an hysterical child, ranting on and on about a stupid boy and his stupid ideas.
I was VERY angry because he had snidely said,” Only BABIES believe in Santa Clause."  This boy was a “know it all jerk” and made my life miserable for the entire day. 
I was extremely upset, but what I did not realize at the time was that Mom and Dad were devastated.  I was too young to be robbed of this beautiful concept.   They weren’t ready to let their baby grow up.  By the end of the day they had hatched a plan to thwart this young man’s intentions.
The first was to have a conversation with the boy and his father.  Since my father was the superintendent of that school district, this was a sobering event for the bully and his dad.  I was never bothered again.
The second strategy was what ended up being the most memorial event of my young life.  They set out to PROVE that Santa did indeed exist! 
Mom and Dad told me this story several times over the years and now I am sharing it with you.
On Christmas Eve it was snowing and we went about our usual tasks of setting out milk and cookies after figuring out the most likely place for Santa to get into our second floor apartment.  It was finally decided that he would probably come in through my bedroom window because it overlooked the roof of the grocery store next door.  Cookies and milk was set on my nightstand and the window was unlocked so Santa could easily gain entrance. 
I will never forget what my eyes were awakened to the next morning.  It was cold in my room because my window was slightly ajar.  There was snow accumulated on my windowsill and footprints made of snow just below the window on my rug.  The footprints led off into the front room and were slowly melting from the warmth.
I bounded from my bed and bumped into my parents who were standing there pointing out the window with amazed looks on their faces.  I turned and looked out the window and THERE on the rooftop of Schindler's Grocery Store were the long straight marks of Santa’s sleigh and tiny reindeer tracks. 
Just outside and below my window was a large round place smoothed out where Santa had obviously set his large sack of presents.  I WAS ECSTATIC!  It was the best Christmas ever and turned out to be my last because other kids were determined to make this BABY grow up on their timetable not my parent’s.
What I didn’t hear that morning was my mother gasp as she placed her hand over her mouth.  What I didn’t see was that the sleigh tracks came across the roof and drove right past (over) a chimney in the middle of the roof.   Dad in his frantic early morning effort, with a close-line pole, had failed to notice the irregularity.
Nevertheless, it had the desired effect and proved to be one of my favorite stories to be told each Christmas.  Their expression of LOVE was the best present I could have ever received.  Christmas is supposed to be about the expression of LOVE.  I think that a lot of the people in this world have forgotten that.  
kt 2010
Now here is another one:


When I was in high school (late 50s) my mother (ignoring Dad's vociferous protests) bought us a REAL tree.  Up to then we had had a series of really BAD silver tin-foil trees with an annual changing of the color of the ornaments to be used.  One year they were a horrible magenta!

I was delighted that we were going to have a REAL tree. Mom even had it flocked with fake snow.  It was a magnificent tree!

However, (yep, you knew the however, was coming) what she failed to consider was the budgie cage filled with 6 young parakeets.  Our loving couple had blessed us with 8 eggs that fall, 6 of which hatched into adorable little trouble-makers. We thought it would be cool to watch the process but, hadn't a clue as to the problems we were inviting into our lives.

The first thing that happened is that the male (Sam) dropped dead a few weeks after we purchased him a beautiful yellow mate (Samantha).  Apparently, we had waited too long to get him a mate as he couldn't handle the stress.  I guess he knew what was coming as the brood that hatched was a real rowdy bunch.

One day, one of them figured out how to open the cage door (my mother swore that I left it ajar after feeding them) and the whole lot escaped (except for Samantha, who was glad they were gone).  I heard my mother yell, "Noooooooo! Nooooooo! The Christmas Tree!"

I rushed into the front room to find her shooing the flock from her precious tree. They were busily plucking off flocking and pine needles.  The front room was more flocked than the tree.  Thank God my mother didn't have a gun because she probably would have shot the birds, me, and then herself!

By the time we caught all 6 (took about an hour during which time my mother was uttering all kinds of obscenities) the poor tree looked a little sad.  There was white flocking and pine needles in every part of the house.  My mother was livid.

The next day the parakeets were gone (all of them) cage and all.  I never had the courage to ask her what she did with them.  I had visions of her taking them to the Chinese restaurant at the shopping center  down the street (Sorry, was that not politically correct to say?).

We went back to fake trees the next year.  A green one this time!


                         HAVE  A VERY MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE !!!

Thursday, December 1, 2011


My granddaughter, Kallie (pronounced Kay-lee) is birthday is 23 on December 2nd.  Therefore, I had to come out of my "vacation mode" to wish her a HAPPY BIRTHDAY.

Unfortunately, she probably won't be able to see this as she is in Japan training for her upcoming deployment in Kuwait.   Yes, I said Kuwait, I'm not too thrilled about that, but at least it's not in one of those other places.

This is baby Kallie before I knew her.
Anyway, back to the birthday girl.  When I first laid eyes on Kallie it was the summer after her kindergarten year.  She was helping her mother pack for moving; and this adorable little girl was writing the contents of the boxes on the outside (and doing a darned good job of it).  She was a little waif of a thing with sparkling blue eyes that danced with excitement.  You see, her mother was moving because she was marrying my son and Kallie was delighted.  Every time I saw her she was laughing or smiling. 

It wasn't hard to get to know this sweet young girl as she was cute and funny and so easy to love.  She started calling me grandma right away and the next thing I knew she was mine!
The little mother.

Kallie at her mother's baby shower.

 When Gene William came along she was a great a big sister and a little mother to him.


The next few years were full of all kinds of movies, miniature golf, swimming, ball games over nights, and the like.  She was my little buddy.

Click here to read about why I gave her the nickname "Little Turtle."

Then, the summer after she graduated from grade schools I took her on a trip to the Kenai area of Alaska.  My friend, Carol, and her grandson, Stephen, went with us.   Kallie had only met Stephen once, but the two of them were instantly great friends.

The kids and I camped out (in a tent) on the shore of a huge lake, explored the area, and cooked out over an open flame.  I talked to them about bears and how they should make a lot of noise as they walked along.  Of course this was no problem for either one of these kids.  Whenever they got too far ahead of me I would yell "Yoah!"  and they would yell back "Ho-Ho."  The woods echoed with our version of the Seven Dwarfs song.

At one point Kallie and Stephen found some interesting tunnels in the underbrush.  These tunnels were fairly large and when I asked them what they thought made these tunnels they both looked at each other then freaked out as the realization hit them......Both of their heads (sporting the biggest eyes I have ever seen) spun towards me in unison as they quickly backed away from a tunnel entrance and said, "BEARS?"   "That would be my guess," I replied.    From that time on they were a little more careful where they explored.

Just before we ate dinner I heard a splash and peals of laughter.  They had been jumping over a small stream that ran close by our campsite, and, of course, they fell in.   Two giggling, but cold and wet kids showed up within seconds.   After we ate, the fire was used to dry shoes and the like.  That night as we were snuggled into our sleeping bags we heard all kinds of grunts, snorts, banging and rustling.  Good thing we had hung our food high up in a tree as the tunnel makers visited the campgrounds that night.  I guess that is why everyone else was camping in trailers and campers.  Everyone but us, that is.  Oh, well!

The rest of the trip was spent covering every inch of the Kenai that we could.  We took a boat ride out of homer to an island and saw Orcas on the way.  We panned for gold at Homer.  We saw glaciers,  eagles, and moose.

In the picture to the left, Kallie is cracking up because I borrowed a fish from a guy at the market so I could pretend I caught one.

After that trip Kallie started to grow up and I didn't get to see as much of her as I would have liked, but she had other interests.  She still mowed my lawn for me and would visit often but it was never the same.  Then she got a car and, well, you know the rest of the story.

In what seemed like minutes she was graduating from high school.  Before I knew it she was attending junior college.  Then she knocked me off my feet by telling me she had enlisted in the Air Force and would be leaving for boot camp soon.   That just about took the wind out of me. The next thing I knew she was finished and assigned to Andrews Air Force Base on the East Coast.  My baby girl was all grown up and heading out into the world.

Kallie in her BD?s(Or something ike that.  The military is full of acronyms).
Big brother Justin, Kallie, and little brother Gene at her going away party.
(Justin was doing something to GW's neck that is why he has a funny look on his face.)
I really admire her for what she did.  Here was this young woman leaving the small farming area where she grew up in small towns which had very little of anything let alone the large variety of ugliness that can be found elsewhere.  The first time she was without her family for more than a week was when she went to boot camp.  She must have been scared to death, but she never showed it or spoke of it.   I know she was homesick because she called me and her mother almost daily.  However, she never complained.

From Andrews she went to Korea; from Korea she went to Hawaii; from Hawaii she went to Japan and from Japan she will go to Kwiate.  She tells me that she loves military life and is planning on making a career of it.  I will ask her again when she gets back from Kuwait as I think she is finding it difficult to leave new friends she makes along the way.

In DC when her brother and I visited.
Enjoying the beach in Korea

Exploring Hawaii.

Don't ask!


Kallie, I thank God that my son married your mother.  My life has been made rich simply by you being in it.  I miss you terribly and pray that you will be given leave to come home before you are deployed.

S#*!  This took me two days and a lot of C.R.A.P. (new readers that means Computer Related Attacks by Poltergueists) and forth to finally get this to post right.  That's what I get for taking a vacation.
12/1/11 kt

Monday, October 31, 2011


 Dear friends,

My father went to be with our Lord Jesus Christ the morning of Wednesday, October 26th. 

I mainly want to thank you for your support during the last few months as I traveled this part of his journey with him.    I kept him at home, on hospice, right up until his last minutes.  

Please bare with me for a while longer as I do not know when I will be back to blogging.  I have cherished each and every comment received.  Some days they were the only thing getting me through the day.  Even though I chose this route it was more difficult that I had anticipated.

My plan is to take a few months to wind down and explore the changes that will have to take place in my life.  A great deal of this time will be spent with my daughter in Connecticut as I have had to put off visiting with her in order to attend to my father's needs.

Take care, TRY HARD TO MISS ME, and I will write to you again soon, I'm sure.


Monday, October 24, 2011


This coming Sunday (October 30th) is my grandson, Gene's birthday.  He will be 16.

This kid is a real cutie pie.

Was then... ...


One memory I have of him was when he was about two and a half.  I was sleeping in on that particular Saturday morning and my son, Gene showed up with the kids.  Gene William (I call him GW) came on back to my apartment at the back of my parent's house.  I could hear his little feet thumping on the kitchen floor as he ran.  I was laying there waiting for him but, as he walked into my bedroom and began to scowl.  He looked me up and down as I lay there with a pillow between my pajama clad knees and, like a little old man, said,  "Ahhhh, a contour knee pillow.  Memaw, do you have back pain?"  I burst out laughing, grabbed him up in my arms and tickled him as he squealed with delight.

My VERY favorite picture
He loved hats.
One of the many things I loved about him as a little kid was that he was always sunny and laughing .  He was playful and had such a sparkle of mischievousness in his eyes.  He loved to put things on his head.  This started when he was still in diapers.

He, also, is a very loving and giving child.
GW was (and still is) as smart as a whip (I know, all grandma's say that but it's true).  When he was around four, the kid computer he received as a present stopped working correctly.  He would move the mouse but, nothing happened.  So he took the ball out, stuck his little finger up inside and manipulated the contacts inside AND THE DARNED THING WORKED!

Also, GW and I would play word games whenever we drove anywhere in the car.  He surprised me regularly with his vocabulary.  He could beat me at checkers at age five and by six was teaching me chess (and really tromping me soundly by age seven).  GW loved to play board games and if he played the game once or twice he would show no mercy and soundly thrash me .  He eventually started playing a serious board came at a local store (Star Wars Miniatures) and was winning against much older kids (including adults).  He tried to teach me that game (and I USED to be real smart) but as hard as I tried I couldn't get the hang of it.

I can remember meeting his Kindergarten teacher one year and asking her how GW was doing.  She had some very nice things to say about him and then added, "And, he is VERY funny."  I responded, "Oh, No, he's not the class clown, is he?"  She replied, "No, he is just, very funny."

As a kid he was a real cut up.  He liked to grab things and pretend they were microphones then he would sing his heart out and camp it up.  At one of his sister's intramural basketball games my son noticed that a lot of the spectators were not watching the game, but something on the stage.  Even the girls on the court were starting to watch the stage. People were laughing, pointing, and making comments to each other.  When my son, Gene, looked up at the stage, there was my grandson doing a mock performance on the stage.   He had the unplugged microphone in his hands was rocking his hips and knees as well as twirling his left arm around like a propeller.  When he leaned the mike over everyone laughed.  It was obvious that Elvis was in the building (at least in spirit)

I have already written about  what he did to his older sister.
Unfortunately, I didn't know that I was going to be writing a blog or I would have recorded the scores of funny episode in this boy's young life.

He was ambivalent about
He definitely didn't like



But, he loves the big drum
He was not too thrilled with the
Cymbals either.


One of the things I miss most about GW getting older is we don't go to the movies together as much.  I miss listening to him laugh and make smart comments at whatever we were watching.  I miss discussing his take on the movie and the whole experience of just spending a evening with him.  One particular night, several years ago, he was feeling a little curious.  For some reason he decided to see just how far he could stick his arm into the round opening in the arm of his seat.  He had to be in about the 4th-5th grade at the time.  I had gone to the concession stand to load up on our favorite goodies and as I walked down the isle I noticed that he kept looking around, leaning strangely to his left, and had a funny look on his face.  When I got there I could see the problem immediately.  When I started to laugh he shushed me and mouthed H E L P !  I sat down beside him and surveyed the situation and, yes, his arm was stuck tight.  Since the previews had already started I whispered,  "You twit!  (snicker) I'll be right back".  As I headed toward the bathroom to get some liquid soap I paused momentarily to consider if I could run home and get the camera.  Then I realized just how embarrassed he would be so I got the soap and a wet paper towel instead.  In a few minutes we managed to extricate his arm and I heard his heave a big sigh of relief.  Like me he has a good imagination and I am sure he was thinking about how it would look if the fire department had to use the jaws of life to unpin his fettered arm.  He made me promise not to tell anyone (a promise I did not break until much later - after getting his permission).  

My favorite memory is our trip to Orlando during the summer of 2007.  I took his sister to Alaska the summer after she graduated grade school.  So, when GW graduated to middle school I decided take him to Orlando.  We didn't go to Disney World because he had already been there with his parents, but we did go to EVERYTHING else.

If you asked my Grandson about his favorite memory of that trip he would probably say that it was watching his grandmother trip several times and fall flat on my face.  We went to a wonderful dinner theater where we ate and watched pirates take over this hugh ship (surrounded by water) in the middle of the arena.  GW even got to participate in the show.  When we got up to leave I held onto a post while I walked down the steps and the darned thing gave away, throwing me and the post onto the floor.  I did a fantastic pratt fall and GW was probably thinking, "Way to go, Grandma."

Here we are outside the theater area,
 making memories.
They had all kinds of fun and exciting things to do at the Wonder Works attraction. It took us most of the day to experience it all.  The two pictures below were taken at that fantastic place.  That evening we went to a hilarious magic show at the and ate way too much pizza.  I tried to get him to volunteer to go up to the stage, but the chicken wouldn't do it!

 We went to Universal Studios, Sea World, the Kennedy Space Center and the beach.
Can you tell he was already
tired of me taking pictures.

In a better mood for pics (it was after

At universal he refused to go on one of the rides.  When I asked me why he showed me the brochure and pointed to the red heart by the photo of the ride.  I responded, "So?"  He replied "The heart means that a person can have a heart attack while riding that!"

What a kid!  Looking out for his old grandmother.  However, the only possible danger was to the people  around me when I spewed my lunch.
This was probably the best part for him.

We were REAL close!

At the Kennedy Space Center I was so
busy looking up at the hugh space shuttle
that I failed to notice a curb in front of me,
tripped and (you guessed it) fell flat on my

I didn't go into the water, just watched him
cavorting around.  He loves the ocean.

(by the way he's gonna kill me when he sees that I posted this picture).

One of the things that cracked him up about me (besides falling on my face 4 times) is how I got lost three times trying to find the airport the night before we were supposed to leave.  I wanted to make sure that I could find it the next morning.  Well, it took me several wrong turns, several cuss words, and over an hour (for a 20 minute trip) to try to find the darned place.  He was counting the number of cuss words I said and laughing his head off.

I can't begin to tell you just how much fun we had in Orlando.  It is a wonderful place to vacation. I took dozens of pictures, walked until I thought my feet would fall off, and ate like a pig.  Also, I didn't get to tell you about how I got him to the front of the line to feed the dolphins.  I am saving that story for another blog.  Let me just say there were 50 people ahead of us and only enough fish for 5 more.  I made sure that my grandson got his fish (and pissed hacked a few people off in the process).

Happy Birthday Gene William.  
I am exceedingly rich with fantastic memories of the fun we have had together over the years.  You never cease to amaze me with your intelligence and wit.  Your smile brightens my day, your hugs nourish me and your sense of humor delights me.  You have a gentle soul and a big heart.  You are always kind to others and especially to me.  There is never a day that goes by that I don't thank God that you are a part of my life.  

I love you,
Grandma (aka Memaw)

kt 9/19/11

Monday, October 17, 2011


Not exactly nice hard wood floors hiding under the linoleum.
Well, guys, I finally mustered  up the courage to finish the floor of the half bath.  Knowing my penchant for disaster I approach every major project with trepidation.  It has only been about 18 months since I glued my foot to the floor in there (when putting up a backsplash by the sink).  Thinking that the bad mojo must be gone by now I tackled my new project.

The first indication of trouble was when I brought the necessary tools into the house.  As I was entering the bathroom with the sander and electric screwdriver in my hands, my cat, Kit, was turning the corner from the kitchen.  She was heading for the back door.  When she looked up and saw me with the two items, she glared at me, growled (yes she growls when she's mad) and darted away into the house.  You see she has been attacked by a run away sander and elect. screwdriver during two different projects of mine (see Kit #1 below).

Ignoring the omen her attitude may have been issuing, I merrily went about the business of preparing the bathroom floor for its new covering.  About two years ago I purchased numerous square linoleum tiles to put down (thinking they would be easier than trying to cut a pattern and lay down a single piece).  However, before I could put the tiles down I had to sand the floor since the IDIOT (no, not me) who put the last linoleum down apparently meant it to stay there forever and must have used super glue.  When I took up the old stuff it left an uneven surface.
Toby is johnny on the spot, ready to help!
The little "THIEF" IN ACTION!
Armed with two different sanders (one for corners and edges) I attacked the floor with gusto.  I had on goggles and a dust mask to assure that I would not be injured or cough up sawdust balls.  Now, my dog, Toby, had been coming by the door occasionally to check on what I was doing.  When he saw me in the mask and goggles he went nuts.  No, he didn't bark and challenge me, he saw this as my invitation to play.  There I am down on my knees, trying to do my job and this goofy dog was pulling at my mask and goggles, jumping over me, and pouncing on my behind.  So, I had to get up and take the things off to put Toby outside.  That is when he jumped up and closed the door.  Wham!  I couldn't believe he shut the door before I could go out of it.  (Yes, I have been teaching him to shut doors, but, not to shut them to block my exit, surely that was not what he was trying to do....or was it?).

I tossed Toby out and finished the sanding in one day.  However, I failed to realize that this fine saw dust was going to be everywhere and it took me another day to clean up the bathroom, every bottle and shelf in the bathroom, the hall beyond the bathroom, and my bedroom.

The next day 8/16, I got the tile out, the pair of heavy duty scissors and my brand new, handy-dandy. box cutter (underlining is my attempt at foreshadowing).  I carefully measured and placed the first two tiles.  No major accidents so far.  Phew......The next row required some cutting so I zipped out the blade of my handy-dandy, new, box cutter.  I made the cuts on two tiles and they fit perfectly.  Placing the box cutter on the floor I scooted my behind back to start the next row (I don't get up and down to easily, so scooting was the only option).  As I quickly moved my right hand back for the next scoot it (or rather my pinkie) brushed up against the blade of my handy-dandy, new, box cutter.  I yelped and look down to see blood dripping profusely from my pinkie.  Who would have thought that a person could bleed to death from a pinkie cut?

After I bled all over the bathroom floor, the kitchen floor, the kitchen table and the first aide kit I managed to stem the flow and get a band-aide on.   I wisely decided to use scissors from this point on.

In order to make some of the cuts in the squares I had to make patterns out of typing paper (which meant that I had to tape several pages together).  So I jumped up slowly and awkwardly pushed up off the floor and trudged to the office to get the paper and tape.  Once back down on the floor I made the paper square and then fit it and marked how it should be cut.  Looking around, I said aloud, "And, where, exactly are the scissors, you twit?"  I also answered myself aloud, (the sign of insanity....right....talking to ones self and then answering), "Yes, of course, they're where you left them when you fetched the paper and tape IN THE OFFICE!"  I struggled to get up again and retrieved my scissors (unfortunately, this became the major theme for the rest of the day).

The only other problems I had was stepping on a turned up piece of linoleum and having to unstick it from my foot; then cutting one piece wrong and having to sweat out the possibility that I wouldn't have enough tile.  Oh, yeah, I forgot;  while walking out the door to the kitchen I stepped on a piece of paper backing laying on the linoleum floor in the hall and landed with an earth shattering thud on my rump (no damage done to the floor, but my rump has seen better more ways than one).
At least I didn't stick it to the bedroom rug
 (well, this one I didn't).

I managed to finish the floor before dinner.  It doesn't look bad but was harder than I thought it would be.  Now, I only have to buy the quarter round and cut it, (Ohhhh, mannnnn, the potential there is frightening) paint it, and nail it to the floor.  Once that is finished I will need to paint the door into the kitchen and I will FINALLY be finished.

I say FINALLY because I started this project five years ago when I ripped out the floor covering and sink, replaced the sink with a better one (I had a plumber hooked it up because I haven't mastered plumbing, as yet)  put up a new ceiling light (Yes, I have tempted fate by messing with electricity.  Nothing shocking to talk about, again, as yet) glued a hugh mirror to the wall (and framed it), put up back splash, painted, and, now I just put down new floor covering.  Ok, so, that's a long time, but, since I was the major contractor on the job I am not complaining..............

Da-Ta-Da-Da!     kt 8/17/2011
KIT #1:   Ok, I was redesigned the brackets for a wooden rail to go across in front of the bathtub in Dad's bathroom (to eliminate the possibility of him falling into the tub, again). This required using the circular saw and jigsaw again (which, with me, is an accident waiting to happen). However, both cuts went off without a hitch. It was when I had to use the sander that things got interesting. 
Apparently, I had left the sander on the last time I used it and just flipped the switch to the plug. So, when I plugged it into a different outlet it jumped off the sawhorse shelf and raced across the garage floor….. TOWARD THE CAT (who was lounging on the cement floor watching the Karen show)! I don’t know how she did it, but somehow she sprung off the floor, spun around in mid air and almost left skid marks leaving the area. I stood there watching the CATastrophe unfold. I had started to laugh when the sander came to the end of its tether, jerked, and started back in my direction. Oh, _______!  After coaxing my eyebrows down off the ceiling I managed to pull the plug on the errant sander. The cat is nowhere to be found.

KIT #2:  And, I just posted the screwdriver etc. episode on 8/22/11

Monday, October 10, 2011


Rarely do I post a serious piece on my blog.  However, I believe it is time to let you know what happened to me on Monday, October 9, 1995.  On my way home from work I was in a serious accident that should have taken my life. 

The following is the testimony that I gave in church, at the pulpit, the Sunday following the miracle.............................I have not changed a word of it, but I have added a post script.

Sights and sounds were not there,
Silence and darkness was everywhere.
It was the energy of positive prayer,
That held me close to life.

These were not the prayers of strangers,
although some I did not know;
But brothers and sisters in Christ,
fellow souls,
bound closely to me by a golden thread of God's love
that passed from them...
through Christ...
to me.

My heavenly Father chose each and every one who helped me,
either by prayer or deed
to be His earthly instruments
to hold me hear on earth.

I am here today to give God the glory for the miraculous event that occurred in my life and publicly testify as to His amazing grace.

I am relating what was TOLD to me as I remember little about that entire day.  The miraculous events were as follows:

      FIRST:  Within a few minutes after the accident a nurse from St. John's Hospital came upon the scene.  She phoned from her car to get immediated help and then attended to me.

     SECOND:  My car was complete demolished and in the shape of a large C.  My seat and the passenger seat had been crushed together and I was smashed up against the passenger door.  I was trapped in the tangled wreckage.  According to the patrolman, he had dreaded approaching the car as he was sure that no one could have survived.  He could not believe that I wasn't killed immediately.

     THIRD:  It was thought, by the people at the scene, that I was some sort of a health care professional by the way I assisted in my rescue.  I gave calm, clear information (names, phone numbers, medical information).  I even told of internal bleeding and pointed to the abdominal area adjacent to the spleen.

This is what prompted the call to life flight rather than an ambulance to a local hospital.  You see, a major artery passes through the spleen.  Every minute lost was a minute closer to bleeding to death!

The Lamar Fire Department had been called to extract me.  I don't know how long it took them to get there as they were about 20 miles away.  I had to be cut from the wreckage, and Life Flight was waiting there to whisk me away as soon as possible.

     FOURTH:  It was a busy emergency night at St. Johns.  Area surgeons had been called in to assist.  They drew names from a cup (lots) to see on whom they would work.  One of he most prestigious surgeons in Joplin drew my name.  It was his expertise that got to the problem quickly and saved my severely damaged liver.

     FIFTH:  Consider this, I was no longer driving my small white Escort.  A little over a month before my accident my mother gave me a larger, more sturdy vehicle (Oldsmobile Callis).  I have had a small vehicle for almost ten years.

     SIXTH:  The week before my accident I began to consider the effects of side impact accidents, and was actually considering a bicycle helmet and placing a firm pillow at m left side.  I even laughed about my apparent paranoia with my carpool partner.  I commented on how ridiculous I would look and that people would think I was nuts.  I gave in to my paranoia and started stuffing my purse and coat on my left side.

     SEVENTH:  The car was a shredded mess.  Glass and twisted meal was everywhere.  However, there was not one gash, cut, or abrasion on my body.  I only had two small bruises around the area of the left hip.  However, I was in critical condition from the crushing blow;
            1.  My spleen was totally destroyed and I was hemorrhaging...
            2.  My liver was severely lacerated and was hemorrhaging...
            3.  I had a concussion, broken shoulder blade, cracked ribs, and a dislocated collar bone...
            4.  The muscles in my back and neck were a mixed assortment of sprains and strains.
                  The edge of one vertebrae was chipped off...
Now, as to what I DO recall:

There was no pain, no anxiety, no fear.  I do not recall talking to anyone and heard only voice giving information.  I did not know until later that this voice was coming from me.

Then sometime during my unconsciousness the ATTACK began.  At first I didn't know what was happening.  I sensed things were not right because the vision before me was turning to darkness to multiple tones of grey contrasted only by many different sizes of black spots.  I felt uncomfortable, puzzled.  It was like looking into a haze that was being blown in front of my face.  But, then it turned in my direction and I knew what it was. The dark one was making his presence known.

The black spots began to move faster, 
And took on many strange ominous shapes.
Some like cinders and ashes,
Some like large birds, bats and snakes.

Then from the mist of this chaos,
Came not a light, but a dark so clear.
A distorted horned intruder,
Was rushing increasingly near.

The specter was grotesque and loathsome,
With hate burning in his eyes.
As it kept rushing headlong toward me,  
It rapidly increased in size.

I threw my defenses up against him,
yelled rebuke and cast him aside.
Then covered my self with the Lord,
And the attack began to subside.

The darkness was sucked back to nowhere,
Which is where it seemed to begin.
And the light in the air around me,
Glowed with the presence of Him.

The color of blue wrapped around me, 
With brilliant white clouds spiraling down.
Descending on me with such glory,
That I was completely spellbound.

Feelings of well being enveloped me,
An I heard a melodious sound.
Like that of a good piece of crystal,
As one runs a moist finger around.

As the clouds floated slowly toward me,
A change began to take place.
They turned into beautiful angels,
With peace and love on each face.

When I awoke days after the surgery I asked for a pen and paper and began to write down the vision before I forgot.  I would drift back into sleep only to awake and write more and then rewrite.  The above is what I wrote.  I kept telling myself,  "I must remember.  I must write it down.  I must tell."  

But, this is not the end of my story.  Since I moved into the house that I know God chose for me, a little over a year ago.  I have been asking myself why did He move me?  What did He want me to do.  I knew that something was about to happen  I even voiced this at an evening service.  I knew I was placed there for a reason and I prayed for Him to reveal what my service to Him would be.  I excitedly awaited His answer. 

The answer came in the hospital, right in the middle of one of my writing frenzies.  It was a clear as the crystal like sound of the angels.

I tingled, I shook, I cried, I was confused, I was awed!

What did it mean?  Was I moved there because the accident had to occur at that precise spot for events to unfold as they did?  Was I moved so that I could have closer fellowship with this community of saints so they could help me with their prayers.  Or, was I moved for something yet in the future?  I don't know!
If there is one thing I've learned about God it is that I will not understand until He is ready for me to know.  

You see God is not human, we are.  We keep trying to explain and understand his actions (or lack of action) by human standards, as that is all we know.  But, God is so much more than we can know, understand, or imagine.

Keep talking to Him in prayer.  Keep listening and watching for His hand in all that is around you.  Keep reading His word with a mind prepared to be enlightened by new revelations.  All the answers are there...IN...  HIS... TIME......

There was another automobile accident at that exact location.  Again a woman was struck on the driver's side of her autimobile and trapped in her car.  I still lived only a short distance from this interesection and I heard the emergency crew scream by.  Knowing immediately what had probably happened I jumped in my car and went to the scene.  When I arrived, I jumped out of my car and went to within 20 feet, dropped to my knees and started praying for this stranger.  It was my turn to send that golden thread of God's love that passed from me through Christ to her.   Other people were scattered around doing the same thing.

I found out later that (even though severely injured) she too survived.

Prayer, a reverent petition made to God through our Lord Jesus Christ, as promised, works!  Again, often not in a way that we can understand, but sometimes we are blessed to see the answered prayer unfold.

Matthew 21:22 (NIV) 

"If you believe, you will receive whatever you ask for in prayer.”

kt 9/2011