Madhouse Mall Maniacs

Okay.  After all that hullibaloo about Black Friday being my all-time-favorite shopping day of the year ...

Black Friday more than wore me out.  Too tired to get frazzled.  Shopped from 11:40 p.m. until nearly 9:00 a.m. 

The top-of-our-list department store we plotted to attack had advertised it's doors would open at 3:00 a.m., a.k.a. 'wee-hour.'  Accordingly, we snatched our place in line, very near the store's entrance, at precisely 2:30 a.m.  Hardly the first customers, but we were close.

3:00 a.m. came and went, while the store's doors remained closed.  I have a hunch it was a conspiracy.

3:05 a.m.:  No change.  Except that now we were nose-to-nose with store employees - or, make that nose to pane of glass - the only thing separating us (the ready-to-rumblers) from them (the we'll-let-you-in-when-we-feel-like-its).  No words.  Just stares.  No!  Make that glares.  No words necessary.  Each 'side' knew what the other 'side' was thinking.

3:10 a.m.:  Still no change.  The 'rumblers' were still ready, but the 'when-we-feel-like-its' weren't budging.

3:20 a.m.:  At long last, open doors. 

Like cattle being called, every shop-'til-you-dropper stampeded directly to the boot department. 

That's our take on it, anyway.

My youngest daughter, Shelby (a Senior in college), decided she'd lead the pack of boot-hungry madhouse mall maniacs by incorporating her cross-country running skills to get a step or two ahead of everybody else.

Indeed, she met with success until ...

She made an all-out attempt at a sharp turn right, dropping her cell phone on the freshly waxed floor, causing it to gain tremendous speed on its journey from one end of the store to the other, in two different directions, no less. 

Her phone had split upon impact.

Now, what?  Recover the phone, or beat the crowd?

Shelby's a quick-decision-maker.  Her phone was recovered first.  The crowd-beating followed immediately thereafter, without missing a beat.

Mad-dashing took on an entirely new meaning.

I haven't quite pin-pointed exactly what it is that draws so much of humankind to the boot department at the local shopping mall, especially at this time of year, but they were drawn there alright - by the gazillions - and, we were amongst them.

What were we thinking?

Boot box tops flinging in frisbee-like fashion, while those of the male persuasion were merely passers-by with their deer-in-headlights stares.  Shelby routinely reminded us during our long-awaited shopping extravaganza, 'They should've stayed home.  They're just taking up space.'

After all, is it not a known fact that women (not men) are shoppers-extraordinaire?

As far as savings go, we did in fact save a bundle (or two).  For the most part, we simply purchased items on our lists, successfully avoiding other never-before-offered temptations.

We had a plan.  We were focused.  We didn't waver.  Well ... most of us didn't.  There's one in every crowd, right?

It was worth every bit of the exhaustion my feet (and every other body part) endured.

Loss of sleep?  Eh, what's one night's sleep loss, when compared with making great memories?

I'll never forget the night, and I'll always cherish the fun and non-stop laughter that was shared between myself, my two sweet daughters - Shannon & Shelby - and our good friend, Emily.

Great company.  Great laughs.  Great memories.  Great 'gift' for me.

But, next year I think ...

I'll probably do it all over again.

'Every good and perfect gift is from above,

And comes down from the Father of lights,

With whom there is no variation or shadow of turning.'

James 1:17 (The Bible - New King James version)

Black Fridays

Traditions!  Love 'em.

Traditionally-speaking, the six-hour-long shopping extravaganza, beginning precisely at one minute after midnight, the day after Thanksgiving, is my all time favorite shop-'til-I-drop event of the year.

Funny thing is ... Traditionally, I don't like shopping.  Not in the least.

Loss of sleep?  Eh, I can always catch some zzz's later on in the day.

Just how many bangs for my bucks can I get this year?  Go ahead.  Ask me.  Quite a few, actually.  I've already scoured the websties.

They call it 'Black Friday.'

Good news!  There's more than one Black Friday per year.  There's a grand total of fifty-two every year. These Fridays belong to the Pro-Lifers. 

Yes.  Even Pro-Lifers have their own Black Friday mission:  Abortion Blackout.

Abortion Blackout occurs every Friday of the year.  On Fridays, many Pro-Lifers wear black clothing to mourn the precious lives lost to abortion.

Scour the Abortion Blackout website:  www.abortionblackout.com

Abortion Blackout is a simple way to show others what you believe.

That's it!  I'm a Black Friday Missionary.

Wanna Know A Secret?

I'm a pretty good secret-keeper.

Share a secret with me, and it stays with me.  Only me.

Well, at least most of the time.  I'll admit I have my occasional slip-ups.

But, I've got a friend who never slips.  Never reveals a secret.  At least not until the time is right.  Perfect, actually.

Until then, His lips are sealed.

If He chose to slip up at least once in a while, I believe I'd be okay with that.

Maybe!

Indeed, He reveals what He determines I need to know. 

When He determines I need to know it is another story entirely.

On the one hand, His secret-keeping determination can potentially drive me bananas.  So much so, that I've found myself dropping to my knees, praying - begging, even - 'Dear Jesus', for Heaven's sake, please share the secret.'  And, 'Why must I wait for an answer?'

On the other hand, perhaps that's His 'divine plan.'  His 'angle.'  The 'big picture.'

He wants me on my knees.  He wants me in sweet communion with Him.  And, He wants me to recognize that He's my Heavenly Father who is there for me all the time, anytime, and every time.

I'm certain He won't keep me in the dark forever.

His will is perfect.  His plan is perfect.  And, His timing is perfect.

I trust Him.

In His time.

In His time.

He makes all things beautiful, in His time.

Lord, please show me everyday.

As you're teaching me your way.

That you do just what you say.

In your time.

* Credit:  Music & Lyrics by Diana Ball

• I am trusting that God will meet all my needs.  see Philippians 4:19
• I am trusting that God did not give me a fearful spirit.  see 2 Timothy 1:7
• I am trusting God with all my heart, and not leaning on my own understanding.  see Proverbs 3:5

Captain Donald L. Ghiata

I've known him for nearly fifty-four of his eighty-four years.

Born on March 1, 1927, he was the first of four sons born to Donald and Gunda Ghiata.

He's my Dad, and I am his 'little papoochnick.'

I never tire of hearing his 'growing-up-on-the-farm' stories.  Matter-of-fact, whenever we're together I encourage him to repeat those stories over and over again.

Ghiata Farm - Spruce, Michigan

The farm life, I'm told, was a hard life back then.  Nothing came easy, and everything came hard.  So different from my own growing-up memories.

He really did go to one of those one-room schoolhouses.  And apparently, he walked to and from school every day - miles upon miles - even on wintry, snowy days - in snowdrifts up to his hips - uphill - both ways.

I'm fairly certain his school teacher was more interested in making sure the students actually learned something, rather than stressing whether spirits might be crushed.

Whenever hyperactivity made an ugly appearance in the classroom ... they had a 'switch' for that.

No telephone, no automobile, no refrigerator, no air-conditioning, no central heating, and no television.

No problem. 

Simply say what needs to be said before departing.  Walk to your destination.  Keep a block of ice in the icebox.  Open the windows when its hot.  Fire up the wood stove when its cold.  And, build relationships with family and friends (even if there really is only a stick and a stone to play with).

Being lazy on the farm was never an option.  Not even a passing thought.  There was no time for that foolishness.

My dad worked hard, long hours.  Day after day.  Still does.

My Dad, Donald L. Ghiata - in uniform, on the farm in Spruce, Michigan
with his brothers ...
Norman, Philip, and Raymond

I'm so proud of him.  Though he quit school at 16 years of age, he never stopped learning.  He served in the armed forces, worked hard for a living, and got an education which eventually earned him the title of 'Captain' on the cement freighters which travel the Great Lakes.

Apparently, there's a lot of truth to the 'early to bed, early to rise ...' thing.

My Dad is also my 'Bible-Answer-Man' ... my 'go-to' guy whenever I have a Bible-related question.  Though he's taught me so much, I have so much more yet to learn.

He's always said, 'It takes a lifetime of living to learn how to live.'

Dad and Mom - Donald and Thais (Kamiske) Ghiata

I'm still learning.

A Bird's Eye View

'The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away.
Blessed be the name of the Lord.'
Job 1:21

He was so tiny.

He came to live with us only a few days after his birth.

His mother either purposefully abandoned him, or something accidentally happened to her.

In like manner, she abandoned his two siblings - intentional or not.  Of the triplets, he was the sole survivor.

He missed his mom so much.  He seemed so frightened, sitting there all alone on our front porch, wondering what in the world was taking his mom so long to provide the next meal.

We knew.

We knew she wouldn't be back.  She'd been gone an awfully long time.

So, we gave him a place to stay for the next few weeks, fed him the meals he craved, made a comfortable bed for him, and even gave him a name.

'Shem.'  (Named in honor of our daughter, Shelby, and her friend, Emily, who lovingly took Shem under their wings.)

We even taught him to spread his wings and fly.

Shem was a bird.  A wren, we think.  Maybe a sparrow.  Not 100 % certain.  Didn't matter.  Whatever his 'breed', we grew to love him.  Pretty sure he loved us too.

Refusing to be one of 'those mothers' who neglects her children, Shem went to work with me every day, for more than a week.  I made him a 'nest' in my bottom desk drawer ... leaving it partially open, so he had enough air and light, but could also snuggle up for a snooze in a shaded area as desired.

He slept alot.  Just like a baby.

And in keeping with the baby-ness of it all, he demanded to be fed every two hours.

Following the advice of our neighborhood veterinarian, Shem's every-two-hour feedings consisted of soft puppy food on a rounded toothpick, followed by water droplets from a syringe.

Shem loved it.  He told me so.  If I didn't get the toothpick to his beak quick enough, he'd let me know how he felt about that as well ... chirping ... CHIRPING.

When he'd had his fill, he'd turn his head away - beak tightly closed - refusing to eat any more.  Babies are like that.

With a full belly, he'd sleep it off for an hour or so.  Then we'd start the feeding process once more.  Day in/Day out.  But at least he'd sleep through the night.

We even took him on a long weekend trip to Ohio.  He met his maternal grandparents, and his extended families.

The weekend we returned home to North Carolina, Shem spread his wings.  In just two days, he'd learned to fly.

To our surprise, many times after a flight around the room or around the deck outside, he'd land on our shoulders. 

To our delight, he'd accepted us as his adopted family. 

Our veterinarian friend told us we could likely count on Shem using our shoulders as landing pads whenever we sat on our front porch ... even after leaving us 'empty-nesters.'

With heavy hearts, we knew the time had come to allow Shem to routinely hang out with 'birds-of-a-feather.'  We had already introduced him to the Finches, Wrens, and Sparrows next door.

He was ready.

I was going to set him free Monday afternoon.

Sadly though, late Monday morning, he seemed to be feeling a bit under-the-weather.  No matter my nursing skills, Shem didn't improve.

Granddaughter, Audrey
and
'Shem', our Bird-Child

His condition worsened.  Quickly.

In the palm of my hand, Shem died at 11:35 a.m.

He did not die alone.

After all we'd been through together, I wasn't going to leave him now.  He'd already experienced loneliness once in his too-short life.  I was determined my baby bird would not suffer the pain of loneliness again.

We miss him.

* sniff *

I have a hunch there must be birds in Heaven.

Lindsey

Lindsey & Minnie Mouse
@ Disney World
'Make-A-Wish' Trip

I'd like you to meet Lindsey.

Stick with me here, please.

Her story is like no other.

• She's 8 years old.
• She's our first grandchild.  The first one of four.
• She's always considered every party to be her birthday.
• She's always loved watching a good soccer game on television with her Daddy - in their matching soccer jerseys.
• She's a lover of dogs, and has three of her own: Casey, Penny & Elvis, who love her dearly, protect her, and sleep under her bed.  She even has an uncle-dog - Uncle Scrappy - who would always sit with her in her special princess chair while watching movies and cartoons at Gramma and PaPa Joe's house.  She misses Uncle Scrappy, but he visits her in Asheville from time to time.
• She's got 3 cousins: Audrey, Samuel & Anderson, who think she's pretty and wish with all their hearts they could play together.  Her cousins pray for her.
• She's 'Princess Lindsey' to her family & friends.
• She lives in the mountains of North Carolina, which can be seen from the big picture window in her mostly-pink bedroom.
• She always loved to bring me fresh flowers, picked right from my garden by her precious little hands.  That's my favorite way to get flowers.  I miss those days terribly.
• She does not like jeans.  You see, real princesses don't wear jeans.
• She prefers only very soft clothing against her baby soft skin.  Real princesses deserve only the very best.
• She's got the softest bed around.  Custom-made by her Daddy.
• She has very soft, long brown hair that her Mommy styles so pretty.
• She has long, gorgeous black eyelashes - just like her Daddy.
• She's a natural beauty.
• She's a fan of the 'Backyardigans' and 'Dora, the Explorer.'
• She's a close personal friend of Mickey and Minnie, and the entire Disney gang.
• She always enjoyed a good game of 'hide 'n seek' at Gramma & PaPa Joe's house.
• She misses her Great Grandma and Great Grandpa Ghiata.  They live in Ohio.
• She's a collector of soft blankets made especially for her by kindhearted souls at the Pediatric Intensive Care Unit, where she's spent too many days and nights.
• She loves a good head-rub.
• She gave a blanket with a big picture of her on it to her Mommy and Daddy to keep them warm at night.
• She really wishes she could play with the kids in the neighborhood.
• She wishes she could tell her Mommy and Daddy how much she loves them, and give them lots of hugs and kisses.
• She has the best and most attentive Mommy and Daddy.
• She has more determination than anyone I've ever met.
• She's too familiar w/ hospitals & medical equipment.
• She has a feeding tube, a trach, and a ventilator.  They're with her day and night.
• She's one 'tough cookie.'
• She never gives up.
• She believes in miracles and Jesus.
• She has Tay Sachs disease.

Never heard of Tay Sachs?

Neither did I, until Lindsey was diagnosed nearly 5 yrs. ago, when she was just 3 yrs. old.

Just 3.

Lindsey and her Daddy
in matching soccer jerseys

She wishes you'd pray for her.  So do I.

This Grandma loves Lindsey so much.

I wish I could take her place.

Hammock In The Shade

My toes are calling.

They're begging to feel the sands of Carolina's beaches between them.


'Come with me by yourselves to a quiet place,
and get some rest.'
Mark 6:31

The rest of my body parts are chiming in, 'We wanna go, too.'

All the while, I'm thinking, 'Y'know, I've got some pretty smart toes.  Quite brilliant, actually.' 

Apparently, they know me better than I know myself.  And right now, they know I long for a break.

Just wish I could find a place on the beach to hang a hammock.  Between two palm trees, perhaps? 

A hammock in the shade ... that's the ticket. 

Twin palm trees, freshly painted pink toenails, a never-ending glass of lemonade (I'm not Southern enough yet to handle sweet tea), a beach bag chock full of good books that have been snoozing on my bookshelf waaaay too long, and me - snug as a bug in my hammock.

Nothing too serious, though.  Book-wise, that is.

I'm thinking more along the lines of mysterious fiction.  Something that will allow for appropriate periods of catching the zzz's that I crave.

That's it!  An effortless reading/dreaming day in a hammock in the shade at the beach.

Just doing as I'm told ...

MARK 6: 31  ...  'Come with me by yourselves to a quiet place, and get some rest.'

Don't know when it'll all come to pass ... But, that's my plan and I'm sticking to it.

Jesus Taught Me How To Pray

Just sitting here.  Alone.

Thinking.  Wondering.  Questioning.

Why?

Because sometimes I just don't know how to pray.

'When you pray, go into your room.
Close the door, and pray to your Father (God) who is unseen.
Then your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you.'
Matthew 6:6

Its not that prayer is at all new to me.  I'm quite familiar with the concept.

Jesus and I have shared quiet prayer time daily since I was nearly five years old.

Matter of fact, I cannot recall a day in my life that did not include prayer.

I understand full well that prayer is my spiritual communion with the Lord.

Yet at times, I still find myself questioning:  'How in the world do I pray about this?'  Whatever the 'this' may be at the time.

While sitting here in my self-induced solitude, trying to figure out how to pray - particularly regarding a circumstance that both saddens and dumbfounds me - I decided to ask Him.  THE Him.

Without delay, He - THE He - spoke to my heart through these verses:

Matthew 6: 6

When you pray, go into your room.

Close the door, and pray to your Father (God) who is unseen.

Then your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you.

Matthew 6: 9 & 10

This then is how you should pray ... (vs. 9)

Thy will (God's will) be done. (vs. 10)

Matthew 6: 36-39

Then Jesus went with His disciples to a place called Gethsemane.

And He said to them, 'Sit here while I go over there and pray.'

He (Jesus) took Peter and the two sons of Zebedee along with Him,

And He began to be sorrowful and troubled.

Then, He said to them ...

My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death.

Stay here and keep watch with me.

Going a little farther,

He fell with His face to the ground and prayed ...

My Father, if it is possible, may this cup be taken from me.

Yet, not as I will - but, as You will.

That's it then.  He answered my question.

I'll go to my room, close the door, and pray to My Father (God).

And though I am overwhelmed with sorrow, I will pray on bended knees with my face to the ground.  I'll make my requests known to Him, finishing my prayers with - 'Yet, not as I will, but as You will.

'Do not be anxious about anything.
But in every situation, with prayer, petition, and thanksgiving,
Present your requests to God.'
Philippians 4:6

'God will meet all your needs,
According to the riches of His glory in Christ Jesus.'
Philippians 4:19

I don't feel so alone anymore.

But, I still have some work to do on the 'anxious' part.

River Rocks and Moon Pies

Between a rock and a hard place.  An unfortunate place to be?  Not necessarily.

Not this particular time, anyway.

The rocky places our kayaks encountered Saturday - all day - were often met with sweet relief.

Case (or 2) in point:

1. Our rock-encounters allowed us substantial time for much-needed breaks from paddling.
2. Our rock-encounters resulted in plenty of good-for-the-soul belly laughs.

Because of the rocks, we gained a greater respect for mother nature, latched onto a heightened awareness of our surroundings, and endured one mighty tough full-body workout.

Yes, full body. 

Rushing white water has the ridiculously amazing ability to slam you and your kayak full-force, and at tremendous speed, smack-dab into the center of a rock that you had no idea was there, and which suddenly stops you dead-in-your-tracks in the blink of an eye.

Best plan?  Don't blink.

I tell ya', it was an obstacle course out there.

Rocks here, there, and everywhere.  And most were winners at the whole hide-'n-go-seek game. 
Child's play?  Think again!

The entire rock-encounter experience could teach 'Mr. P90X' a thing or two.

Oh, yes!  This particular kayaking ordeal worked every single body muscle known to us.  And, even the ones we had no idea existed ... until now.

Five solid workout hours of paddling, maneuvering, slamming into rocks, and exerting all energies in navigating off said rocks, only to discover that more rocks - alot more - were secretly lurking ahead.
Pretty sure we'll be feeling the effects when we roll (literally, 'roll') out of bed tomorrow morning.

Would I do it again?  In a heartbeat, and after I invest in a blow-up/cushiony seat for my hind end.

What part do the moon pies have in this whole story?  After a workout such as this, every good body deserves a moon pie.

If you have to ask what a moon pie is, you're obviously not from the South.

Its chocolatey-marshmallow-heaven.

A Change of Plans

'Do not boast about tomorrow,

For you do not know what a day may bring.'  - Proverbs 27: 1

'Why, you do not even know what will happen tomorrow.

What is your life?

You are a mist that appears for a little while, and then vanishes.'  - James 4: 14

You'd think that by now I'd have this whole 'life' thing down pat.

My entire life, my Dad has reminded me:  'It takes a lifetime to learn how to live, Lori.'

Apparently, I've got a bit more to learn.

Fortunately, my m.o. (method of operation) keeps me from getting too awfully shook up about things that might not necessarily go according to plan.

I'm quite alright with changes in plans ...

• When I was a little girl, I dreamed of marrying fairytale Prince Charming.
• When I became a big girl, I fell in love with and married real-life Joe instead.
• When I was a little girl, I thought my parents were clueless.
• When I became a big girl, I realized the cluelessness was all mine.
• When I was a little girl, I was certain I'd be a Veterinarian when I grew up.
• When I became a big girl, I changed my certitude to Pediatric Nursing.
• When I was a little girl, I couldn't imagine being a Gramma.
• When I became a big girl, I couldn't imagine not being a Gramma.

Even as recently as this very week, significant changes have taken place to big plans I'd made.

But, I'm really okay with that. 

I've learned to be at peace with plan-changes, knowing that ultimately God's will will be done - no matter what my own original plan may have been.

Many things about tomorrow

I don't seem to understand.

But I know who holds tomorrow

And I know who holds my hand.

(lyrics and composer - Ira Forest Stanphill)

It takes a lifetime to learn how to live,

How to share, and how to give,

How to face tragedy that comes your way,

How to find courage to face each new day.

How to smile when your heart is sore,

How to go on when you can take no more.

How to laugh when you want to cry,

How to be brave when you say goodbye.

How to still love when your loss is great,

How to forgive when your urge is to hate.

How to be sure God's really there,

How to find Him ... Seek Him in prayer.

- Ruth Moyer Gilmore

Road Trip - Part Two. Packing.

Packing ... Ugh.

I'm draggin' my heels on this one.

That reminds me ... I need to pack a few of those ... heels, that is.

Second thought:  Nope.  No heels.

Comfortable flats trump fashionable heels.  Every time.

The boxes here pretty much mirror the boxes tucked away in my closet - right down to the dog.

Apparently, Scrappy (my loyal, 10 yr. old Yorkie) thinks he's going with me.  Not.

I've got too many must-haves to drag along.  Can't be dragged down by a dog.  Sorry, Scrappy.

Thus, the entirely-too-many, but can't-live-without-'em packing boxes.

Aside from the essentials - underwear, make-up, and every pair of shoes I own - and the not-so-essentials, I've got boxes upon boxes of books.

But, only one title:  Pregnant at 16.  Authored by me.

I'm hoping these boxes are near-empty upon my return to North Carolina.

If you're attending the National Right To Life Convention this month, stop by my exhibit booth and introduce yourself.

Looking forward to making new friends in Jacksonville, Florida.

Road Trip - Part One. Preparations

Are we there yet?

Hey ... Isn't it the 'getting there' that's supposed to be so much fun?

Soon, I'll be hittin' the open road that leads to Jacksonville, Florida. 

On my own. 

Yikes!

My directionally-challenged behaviors are certain to make this lone excursion, at the very least, interesting if not amusing.

Yup, I've got one of those GPS doohickeys close-at-hand.  But, my hearing disability leaves me at a certain disadvantage, potentially causing me to unintentionally ignore the GPS-guy while he politely informs me (over and over again) he's 'recalculating', due to a turn I missed ... 15 miles ago.

Take a map?

Nope. 

I don't do maps. 

If maps were designed with cute little pictures of landmarks, rather than boring street names and highway numbers, that'd be a different story.  That'd be a map I could deal with ... one with a woman's touch.

That'll be my next big project.

But for now, I'm in preparation mode for the National Right To Life Convention, 2011.

Two Kayaks - A Love Story

Spent the day kayaking, yesterday.

Two kayaks.
Two paddles.
Two people.

Two ideas of kayaking fun. 
His:  Fishing and Exploring. 
Mine:  Reading and Relaxing.

He caught fish.
I caught up on my reading.

He explored.
I relaxed.

He loved the sounds of nature.
I loved the sound of silence.

He toted a 'dry bag.'
I didn't need a 'dry bag', since I had no intention of getting wet.

Our common ground?

• We each own a yellow kayak.  His is sit IN.  Mine is sit ON.
• We each love the water.  He, IN it.  Me, ON it.
• We both love maneuvering the rapids.  I fall out.  He rescues me.
• We each appreciate wildlife.  He, up close and personal.  Me, from a significant distance.

We're a team.

• We work together, toward a common goal
• We respect each other's differences.
• We harmonize our contributions to the cause.
• We each contribute to the overall well-being of the team.

Sometimes the teamwork is a breeze.  Other times, we can work up quite a sweat.

We refuse to give up, but will often give in.  Whatever it takes to have a winning team.

I love our team, and our teamwork.

'Many waters cannot quench love.  Neither can the floods drown it.' - Song of Solomon 8:7

'As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord.' - Joshua 24:15

Rise Up and Call Her Blessed on Mother's Day, May 8, 2011

My Mom ... My personal 'Proverbs 31' lady.   

• The heart of her husband trusts in her. - Proverbs 31: 11
• She works with willing hands. - Proverbs 31: 13
• She rises while it is yet night, and provides food for her household. - Proverbs 31: 15
• She dresses herself with strength. - Proverbs 31: 17
• Her lamp does not go out at night - Proverbs 31: 18
• She opens her hands to the poor, and reaches out her hands to the needy. - Proverbs 31: 20
• Her husband is known in the gates, when he sits among the elders. - Proverbs 31: 23
• Strength and dignity are her clothing. - Proverbs 31: 25
• She opens her mouth with wisdom, and the teaching of kindness is on her tongue. - Proverbs 31: 26
• Her children rise up and call her blessed. - Proverbs 31: 28

That's her. 

That's my Mom. 

I'm so thankful God made her mine.  And, I'm appreciative of her self-sacrificing example.

Now, Mother's Day is just around the corner.  Must remember to put the card and gift in the mail tomorrow.

Oh, what I'd give to be with my Mom on Mother's Day this year.  But time changes things ...

Physically - 550 miles separate us.

Emotionally - Nothing can separate our Mother/Daughter bond.

It is my honor to call Thais Eileen Kamiske Ghiata, 'Mom.'

Happy Mother's Day, Mom. 

I love you.

Lori (a.k.a. 'Little Papoochnick')

Gethsemane

I'm walking through Gethsemane.  My own personal Gethsemane, that is.

Its likely that you might be questioning, 'What in the world is Lori talking about?'

Here's an abbreviated Biblical history lesson, as well as what one of my favorite television preachers - Charles Stanley - recently brought to my attention.

Gethsemane is a garden at the foot of the Mount of Olives in Jerusalem, most famous as the place where Jesus prayed the night before His crucifixion.

To quote Charles Stanley:  'At no other time in the gospels do we see the Son of God (Jesus) more brokenhearted than in these last few hours of freedom before He is seized by the Pharisees' men.'

In the Garden of Gethsemane, Jesus struggled regarding his impending crucifixion.  He prayed - three times, no less - that His Father would remove this 'cup', this crucifixion from Him.  But, its important to remember that He also prayed, 'Nevertheless, my my will but thine be done.'

Mr. Stanley also mentioned:  'Matthew's illumination (read Matthew 26: 36-46 in your Bible) of the Lord at Gethsemane teaches us how to respond to sorrow so that our painful experiences are not wasted.'

Wow!  ... 'so that our painful experiences are not wasted.'  I've had to mull over that one for a while.  Quite a while, in fact.  Indeed, my 'mulling' of this statement by Mr. Stanley has consumed me at times.

Painful experiences.  Yeah, I've had my share - perhaps more than my share.  Most of you reading this have probably felt the same way. 

Dealing with the painful experiences is one thing, but 'not wasting' them? 

What?

I'm guessing, that's to say I'm supposed to put some kind of 'good use' to the painful experiences? 

Not a molehill ... not by a long shot.  More of a mountain, I'd say.

Where in Heaven's name am I supposed to start putting pain to good use?

My conclusion, at least for the time-being, regarding my starting points follows:

• Granddaughter, Lindsey, who has Tay Sachs Disease:  Share her story so that others can see our family's love for the Lord, Jesus' love for us, and how our faith in Him keeps us strong and gives us hope.
• My personal history as an unwed, teenage mother:  Share my own story so that others can be eye-witnesses to the Lord having brought me successfully through difficult times, in order to help others dealing with similar situations, to restore hope to unwed mothers, to save the lives of the unborn, and to bring glory to Jesus' name.
• My frustration with pain from Fibromyalgia and Avascular Necrosis of the Femur:  Jesus keeps me going.  He is my strength.

The 'good use' part of the 'pains'? ...

1. They keep me in constant, prayerful contact with Jesus.
2. They keep me praying for those who are hurting or suffering with illness.
3. They allow for opportunities to witness to others about the loving, saving grace of Jesus.
4. They keep reminding me that Jesus is the perfect example of one who has suffered, but He left the final decision / the final 'will' to God, who is all-knowing and whose answers to prayers are perfect.

So, I'm okay with my personal Gethsemane.  Jesus will see me through ... Perfectly.

Purposeful Determination

Telling my adult friends and acquaintances that I was an unwed teen mother ranks right up there with ...

With ...

Well, with nothing.

Honestly, I cannot think of much else in my life thus far that has made me feel more uncomfortable.  Indeed, verbal disclosure of my wayward teen years has been my biggest personal obstacle to overcome.

Isn't that something?

It seems at times that the toughest part of my story has been the panic associated with the horror of having to repeat my story - one more painful time after another.

Not unlike many folks, when there's the possibility that I might have to endure pain, whether physical or emotional, I avoid it.

So, that's what I routinely did over the course of the past thirty-five years.  I avoided my own emotional pain by dodging situations wherein I might be forced to share my story with others.

I believed that sharing my story would only initiate having to answer tough questions, which would bring about even more unwanted pain.

And then of course, there was the very real possibility that sharing my story would have that domino effect, e.g. having others share my story with even more folks, likely leading to even more questions, and thus even more pain.

More curious people.

More tough questions.

More emotional pain.

I'm not crazy about curious people, because I'm not fond of tough questions.  And, I'm even less fond of emotional pain, at least not when it pertains to my personal life.

One of the most difficult times on the obstacle course that I call my life occurs when someone I'm hanging out with at that particular moment sees an unwed pregnant teenager and utters under her breath, but to me (unaware of my history, of course), and with all the negativity that she can seem to muster, questions such as:

• "What was she thinking?"
• Or, "Where were her parents?"
• Or, "Doesn't she know anything about birth control?"
• Or, "Why didn't she have an abortion?"
• Or, "I hope she puts that baby up for adoption, and gives it to some family that really wants to have a baby, but can't."
• Or, "That girl has ruined the rest of her life."
• Or, "No man is ever going to want to marry her."

The list goes on ...

And yes, I have heard them all, and more.

Comments like those were the driving force causing me to keep my teenage skeletons locked up, and my lips tightly sealed.  Sheltered from opposition and hostility, for good!

Until now.

Now, I'm telling everyone.  What a switch!

I compare the switch to a light switch in my home, except that this particular light switch is not attached to a solid wall.  Rather, this switch is attached to the wall of my heart.

My switch was always kept in the off position with purposeful determination.

I had resolved to keep others in the dark regarding the "Lori chronicles."

And, I felt quite safe in my own personal darkness.  Undeniably, I was unwavering in my resolution to keep my personal history private, and to keep others in the dark.

I had no intention of flipping the switch that would turn my private concerns into public knowledge.

Not only did I refuse to shed light on my very private memoirs with others, but I became lovingly accustomed to the feeling of normalcy by dimming my own memories as well.

Here's the switch:

• What was once dark, is now light.
• What was once unclear, is now clear.
• What was once a mystery, is now exposed.
• What was once black, is now white.
• What was once a closed book, is now open.

Never in my wildest dreams would I have ever thought I would finally get to this place.  But, I am here.  And, what a wonderful place it is.  My fear of the unknown was unwarranted.

I carry within myself a renewed spirit, a purpose, and a plan.  My life - even with its imperfections, shortcomings, weaknesses, and past failures - has a purpose.


I'm here to be a voice for the unborn.
And, I'm here to restore hope to their mothers.

There really is a reason I'm here.

(from chapter 8 - Pregnant at 16)


PROVERBS 31: 8 - 'Speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves.'

A Simpler Life

Simply put, I long for a simpler life.

But ...

• Not so simple that feeding my passion to solve the world's problems is neglected.
• Not so simple that feeding my passion for alone-time with Jesus is abandoned.
• Not so simple that feeding my passion to assist those in need is untended.
• Not so simple that feeding my passion to spread the Gospel of Christ is tossed aside.
• Not so simple that feeding my passion to be a voice for the unborn is disregarded.
• Not so simple that feeding my passion for writing is postponed; and,
• Not so simple that feeding my passion for family intimacy is overlooked. 

On second thought, maybe its not at all the simpler life that I crave.

Perhaps I simply desire to remain on this self-imposed, not-so-simple 'Lori expedition', but at a pace that's more relaxed and slowed down a bit.

But, wait just a minute ...

'But those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength.  They will soar on wings like eagles.  They will run and not grow weary.  They will walk and not be faint.'  - Isaiah 40: 31

'Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.'  - Galatians 6: 9

Okay ... Never mind.

Gotta run.

Just scratched my whole 'simpler life' plan.

... That didn't last long!

One Moment In Time

Though my memory may be dim on a number of things, I have a hundred-watt recollection of the moment that I found out that in just a few months someone, a very little someone, was going to be depending on me - ME! - for everything.  I was still dependent on my own parents.  How was this going to work?

I remember this one moment in time as if it occurred only yesterday.

My mom had just picked me up from high school.  As she drove what turned out to be the longest ride home ever from school, I noticed that she was suspiciously quiet.  I could tell that she was deep in thought, but I had the distinct feeling that she might share those deep thoughts with me.  She kept looking at me with those distinctively special "mom eyes."  You know - the mother's eyes that are so intensely loving, yet so intensely concerned at the same time.

I sensed that she must have something terribly important to tell me.  It quickly became obvious to me that, at any moment, whatever was on her mind would be verbally passed along to me. 

She had something to say, something to tell me, but she just wasn't quite sure where to begin. 

I thought, "Did somebody die?"

As we were driving down the road, having already turned onto the quaint midwestern street where we lived, my mom (who had taken me some days or weeks earlier to the family doctor for a pregnancy test - because moms really do seem to have a kind of sixth sense, especially about their own offspring) decided to just come out and say what I'm sure had been weighing quite heavily on her mind all day so far. 

Ever so gently, compassionately, and quietly, yet matter-of-factly, she put her precious hand in mine and said, "Lori, you're pregnant."

It was at that moment that my hundred watts of mind juices really started flowing and in fact, went into overload.

My heart sank to my stomach.

Then, my stomach made its way up to my throat.

My once rosy cheeks now lacked any color at all.

My insuppressible tears flooded my cheeks, drenched my clothes, and sprinkled onto my high school books.

I glanced over at my mom again.  Her "mom eyes" were bigger-than-life filled with the compassion that only a mom can have for her child.  In my case, a child having a child - her baby having a baby.

After swallowing the big lump in my throat (it took several attempts), I quietly asked my mom to "just drive around the block."

I wasn't ready to go into the house yet.

I wasn't ready to go on with the rest of the afternoon.

Quite frankly, I wasn't ready for anything.

And, I sure wasn't ready to be a mommy.  Not me.  Not at sixteen!

- excerpt from Chapter Five of my book - PREGNANT at 16 - by Lori Ghiata Bowser (available at online bookstores).

- and, from Chapter Eleven ...

My teen pregnancy and the birth of Danny made me grow up fast. 

Yes, my own personal teen-aging process passed by much more quickly than I had originally anticipated early on in my travels down Adolescent Road.

In fact, I actually passed by rather a great deal of the whole teenage process, rather than muddling through its entirety.

Nevertheless, my teenage pregnancy and Danny's subsequent presence in my life pushed me full force into the world of adulthood and consequently, made me a little more mature.  Although some of my close friends might deny the 'maturity' part due to my present-day occasionally mischievous 'schemes.'

Undoubtedly, these friends are probably thinking, "A little more mature?  Put the emphasis on 'little'."

And if, indeed, that is what they're thinking, its okay, simply because my closest friends know me that well, and know that I'm admittedly a fan of the saying, "Growing old is mandatory.  Growing up is optional."

But in the grand 'scheme' of things, and in the course of my everyday life since I was an unwed, pregnant, sixteen-year-old girl in 1974, I can finally say that I am contentedly satisfied with whom I have become.

More importantly, I am thankful for God's mercy and grace for transforming my seemingly hopeless, teenage situation into - as my high school teacher once said - a 'blessing beyond my dreams.'

My own teenage reckless behaviors resulted in a pregnancy.  But, not once - NOT ONCE! - have I regretted my decision to choose life for Danny.

And, Danny has certainly exceeded my expectations by providing me with 'blessings beyond my dreams.'

Sanctity of Human Life

Officially, Pro-Lifers have declared this week in January 'Sanctity of Human Life Week.'

Its the week that serves as a bitter reminder of two ill-conceived, irresponsible U.S. Supreme Court decisions thirty-eight years ago:  Roe v. Wade and Doe v. Bolton.

Thirty-eight years of exploited, damaged women.

Thirty-eight years of heinous deaths of more than 53 million precious children.

Roe v. Wade:  (1973) The Supreme Court said that a fetus is not a person, but merely a 'potential life.'  One without any constitutional rights.  The not-so-supreme Court also set up a framework in which a woman's right to abortion and the State's right to protect 'potential life' shift in the following manner ...  1st trimester:  The State cannot regulate abortion for any reason.  2nd trimester:  the State can regulate abortion to protect the health of the mother.  3rd trimester:  (This is where the 'shift' comes in.)  The State can regulate or prohibit abortion to promote its interest in the 'potential life' of the baby, except where abortion is necessary to preserve the woman's life or health.

Doe v. Bolton:  (1973)  On the very same day as Roe v. Wade, in another case - Doe v. Bolton - the Supreme Court 'modified' Roe v. Wade.  This is when they decided that a woman's right to abortion could not be limited by the State if abortion was sought for reasons of maternal health.  The Court defined 'health' to include 'all factors' - not just physical - but emotional, familial, psychological, and the woman's age.  This 'health exception' expanded the right to abortion for any reason through all three trimesters of pregnancy, even up to and including the baby's due date.

Our Nation ought to be mortified.  Our Nation ought to be ashamed.  And, our Nation ought to make deliberate work of overturning Roe v. Wade and Doe v. Bolton - for the sake of the children, for the sake of their mothers, and for Heaven's sake.

God loves His little children.  Its a theme throughout Scripture.

This is why Pro-Lifers marched in Washington, D.C. this past Monday.  This is why we've marched for thirty-eight years.  This is why we're devoted to protecting the lives of the unborn.  This is why we're also devoted to restoring hope to their mothers.  And, this is why 'Sanctity of Human Life Sunday' and 'Sanctity of Human Life Week' have been observed in January every year for the past thirty-eight years on the anniversary of Roe v. Wade and Doe v. Bolton.

Officially, I declare the remainder of my days as my own 'Sanctity of Human Life Years.'

'Speak up for the speechless,
in the cause of all who are appointed to die.'
Proverbs 31:8