This is Why We Have Rules

This is Why We Have Rules

I hate to use public restrooms. When I think of the microbes and germs crawling all over every surface, it makes me anxious. I try very hard to not touch ANYTHING I don’t absolutely have to. I have a routine for minimizing my toxic exposure — a routine which, of course, includes, “hovering.” Women know what I mean — the “squat” position one assumes over the toilet to avoid contact with the seat. Yes, men, you’re not the only gender which pees standing up. When possible, I avoid public restrooms altogether. For example, if I know we are going to an outdoor concert or anywhere I might be forced to share a port-o-potty with drunk people, I stop drinking liquids for HOURS before the event. But that isn’t always an option since typically, I drink over a gallon a day. (more…)

My Experience with Intermittent Fasting

My Experience with Intermittent Fasting

For a long time, I hesitated to share this with anyone — confiding only in those who know me best. I didn’t want to tell people that I hardly ever eat breakfast or lunch anymore. I wondered how they would react if I told them that most days, especially Monday – Friday, I seldom eat a thing before dinner at 5:30 or 6:00 p.m. But that is what I do and it has become such a blessing in my life that I want to share it.

(more…)

Warm and Fuzzy

Warm and Fuzzy

A few weeks ago, one of the women in our jail ministry team brought SEVERAL winter coats and heavy jackets with her to our Monday night meeting. She wanted me to take them to Hamilton County Community Corrections for those in need of a coat. In all honesty, I’ve been so busy lately that I could only see taking them to the facility as one more thing I had to do — a chore. (more…)

Reflections on September 11

Reflections on September 11

Like many of you, I find myself reflecting on the events of September 11, 2001. Where was I when I first heard? Where was I when the first tower fell? Who could have done this? Will our country ever feel “safe” again? Fourteen years later, I can still remember the feelings of confusion, helplessness, and utter, devastating loss.

But one of my most profound memories is from September 12 — the day after — as I drove the car. My daughter Morgan, just 3 years old at the time, was in her toddler seat in the back.

During such car rides before, she and I had shared many conversations about American Flag etiquette. She understood the significance of a lowered flag prior to Old Glory being lowered to half-staff for this most recent tragedy
As we drove past a large American Flag, appropriately lowered and hanging limp with the lack of breeze, she commented in her innocence,

“The flag looks so sad, mommy.”

Where usually, I would have jumped on that “teachable moment,” not that time. No, on this occasion, it was all I could do to swallow the lump in my throat and reply,

“It is, sweetie. It is so sad right now. But the breeze will come back.”