FULL CIRCLE

I like full circle-type things--things that further confirm faith in the belief that our steps are ordered and nothing happens by accident. Tonight I'll be performing at The B Spot-- Art collector and master framer Barry Lester's new gallery on Capitol Hill. It was formerly called "Attitude Exact" and was located on 8th Street/Barracks Row, not too far from the new location on Pennsylvania Avenue.

About 14 years ago, my "Vision" brother, Grammy winner Raymond Reeder phoned me and said, "I'm at the gallery. Get your stuff from under the bed and meet me here". I didn't know what or where the gallery was. What I did learn when I arrived, was that many of the paintings I'd done while in my classroom at P.R. Harris--paintings I'd given away to anyone who said, "I like that"--were somehow making their way to Attitude Exact Gallery. 
My work was being enclosed in spectacular, intricate frames, and when I would see them again, I hardly recognized them, if not for the fact that my signature was there. The frames were works of art in and of themselves. It seemed that EVERYONE knew about the gallery and the artistry of Barry Lester except me!

When we met, he looked at my work and told me he recognized my style because he had handled so much of my work before. He also recognized immediately that I had very little business sense and knew nothing about placing monetary value on my work. He promised to archive my work, and keep it safe. That he has done from then, until now. Even when I would need framing for my students' work, he wouldn't take my money. I always admired his philosophy that art and artists should be a part of the community, like they were during the Harlem Renaissance. Attitude Exact was always a lovely place to visit. Just being surrounded by such wonderful art was so inspiring. Like its predecessor, The B Spot doesn't disappoint.
On the walls of the new gallery are, among other contemporary artists, the works of one of my former elementary school students, Shaunte Gates. I get misty every time I see his work. It makes some of the not so good days as a teacher, worth every minute.

Tonight is really special to me. It's bringing together two things I love, Art and Music. I'm excited to just sing songs I like in the company of people I admire and appreciate, and people who appreciate art, in a space I find refreshing and lovely...the smoothies and flavored teas are divine, too....: )

PROUD MOMMY MOMENT

It's been a long time since I've addressed envelopes. This time the task is more joy and less work. Oh, who am I kidding. I've always enjoyed handwriting and calligraphy. I'm impressed with anyone who still appreciates a hand written note.

I'm so proud of my baby. She suggested using labels, but I'm happy to do it by hand. It's a pleasure to share her educational accomplishment with those who have been a part of "The Village", as she has blossomed from a great little girl to an even greater young woman. Yes. I'm a very proud, very grateful Mommy...: )
Now where are those addresses?
I had a brief encounter with a Montblanc a few weeks ago, but the Pilot G-207 I'm using will do just fine...: )

FINGERPOINTING

POETRY PROMPT: THE CHOIR STAND

She'd passed the church

Yet never stopped

But always felt she should

Believing God?

A piece of cake

Church folk?

Not so good.

But off she went

With best intent

To start a life anew

Heard the Word, and felt

To join, was the right thing to do

Born again at half-past 10

She gave the Rev her hand

"I pray you'll find a place to serve

Perhaps, the choir stand?"

I love to sing, but I don't know

I've heard much goes on there

I've heard a hateful spirit waits

To stir up strife, and mess, and hate

That leads people to separate

When worship fills the air

The prerequisite IS to sing,

If one should do it WELL

It should be a welcomed thing

But, to hear some others tell

One would do best to just shut up

Go join the ushers' board

Do ANYTHING but sing about

The goodness of the Lord!

The choir, Sir,

I've often heard's

A messy delegation

I've heard one's best bet is

To just stick with the congregation

I've heard this is where many start

But find more love elsewhere

I've heard many have been wounded

And their wounds without repair

Characters have been maligned

Reputations shot

Critical, mean-spirited

A most destructive lot!

You'll be accused of being "grand"

Full of great conceit

You'll be accused of charming all the men

You'd like to meet

I heard you'll be accused of

Being "too professional"

It may be said your heartfelt praise

Is just a load of bull!

I've heard some singers came to church

And after a few squalls

Had targets placed upon their backs

And couldn't sing at all!

The reasons they were given

Were ridiculous at best

Said with stern face, but surely now,

It HAD to be in jest:

"We have too many people."

"You may not know the song."

"Your clothes are the wrong color."

"Your tone just isn't strong."

"We're trying something different."

"The songs are just too fast!"

"Your dues aren't quite current."

"We know about your past."

"The choir's not for singers,

Just folk who like to sing."

"Pleasant to the ear

Is not our mission in this thing."

"Mediocrity is fine--

We can't put forth our best.

If we raise our standard

That's what people will expect."

You haven't been here long enough."

We haven't got much room."

"We don't have enough microphones."--

Now, am I to assume

You want ME to become a part

Of this conniving bunch

Who have a history of driving people out to lunch?

Of SO infecting people with venom-laden stings

That they leave church altogether

And find someplace SAFE to sing?

I'm new at this

I'm just a sheep

I need safety and care

Should I become a part of it

Will I be free from fear?

Will there be more negativity WITHIN

Than there's WITHOUT?

Will I become a victim of

What I have heard about?

Should I just save my singing

For my room of porcelain

Where no one's lurking, scheming,

Thinking how to do me in?

Can't I just raise my voice AT HOME

Away from sneer or frown

And when I enter scared doors

Find a seat and sit down?

If all the hurts out in the world

Are multiplied in HERE

Should I undo what I've just done

Un-shake your hand?---

Be CLEAR.

No matter where you go

You will find an element

That betrays the real mission

Of the one that Our God sent

Don't ever let what others do

Affect you so much so

That you refuse to shine the light

He's given as you go.

No matter what, NEVER silence

What He has placed in you

It's there for a good reason

In spite of what some others do

Keep singing, keep declaring

The glory of His name

Not for fortune, riches, selfish gain, or fame

But because He loves you

And wants others to know as well

And they're HIS songs, and HIS story

He wants you to tell

Alright then,

I will go and serve and try to do my best

I wear my feelings on my sleeve

But I'll try to do no less

Than glorify the God I love

No matter where I am

And pray that the miraculous

Moves through the choir stand.

That envy, strife and hate move out

And Love comes rolling in

That nothing but the love of God

Is heard when songs begin

That nothing but Love is seen

In sounds and claps of hands

That is my prayer

Alright then,

Which way to the choir stand?

vrwc2011

IN THE NEIGHBORHOOD: CRATERS AND POTHOLES

The pictures kind of speak for themselves. So, when some unsuspecting driver encounters it, who's at fault? THEM, for not seeing and avoiding it, the workers (of whatever entity) who walked away from whatever job they were doing and ignored it, or the city for allowing the problem to persist? It's such a neat, square hole, too. Filled with water, it's a DECEPTIVE square hole that will go unnoticed and blow out a tire(s), down a bike rider, sprain the ankle of someone crossing the street at night, or become the spawning ground of mosquitoes. 

Who's responsible for the existence of the crater? Who knows. It just needs to be repaired ASAP. And what's with the long crack emanating from it? What's THAT about? Teeny, tiny earthquake, perhaps? Naaaah...Surely not in the Nation's Capital...Or...Could it be?...Naaah.

A guy walking up the hill shouted, "That's right Sis! Take a picture of it!" Maybe he'd seen it before. Maybe he was a victim of it, and that's why he was walking. I certainly don't remember seeing it before I left for Germany. I think I would remember the crater. Maybe DC can take a lesson from the Germans and adopt the fine manner in which they maintain their roads--but then, at the break-neck speeds in which everyone seemed to travel there, well kept roads are not negotiable.

Now, to use the trusty, handy-dandy internet and research whose governmental eyes should see the pictures, help facilitate a smooth ride, and prevent an unnecessary expense for locals and Maryland commuters who use the street as a shortcut during rush hour. Surely, the money required for a new tire can be better spent on a gallon of gasoline.

Bingo! Twitter to the rescue @DDOTDC . 
Got a pothole on your street, in your neighborhood, or have you spotted one in your travels? Tweet them...: )

IN THE NEIGHBORHOOD: ODOR MOST FOUL

I'm not a pet owner, but I'm beginning to feel like one. I'm not experiencing the 'Joy, Love, Loyalty, Devotion, Companionship' part--just the clean up. 
I don't mind cleaning up. Cleanliness is a good thing in our lives. What I DO mind is insensitivity.
Even when my family did have dogs, when I was growing up, they remained outdoors, and free to be themselves in their own houses. There was no dog in the bed, dog bowl in the kitchen, feeding from the dinner table, laughter about toilet water consumption, hair shedding all over the furniture, paw prints on the carpets, scratches on the doors, eaten slippers, chewed homework, bites, or "presents". 
Perhaps some people may think my childhood was deprived of all of those fun things. The one time it snowed so badly that the dog WAS allowed in the basement, it seemed that his scent lingered for days and permeated every non-porous object.

Our pets were allowed to retain their proud animal status. They were never referred to as "children" or sisters and brothers. They were fed and cared for very well, but had a place, and it wasn't in the house, but among nature where the Good Lord provided them with all the protective gear and instincts they needed to survive. "That's why the Lord gave them fur", my Dad would explain. 

Who knows? Maybe that's why, when someone tried to break into the house where I grew up, our dog never barked. She'd only been inside the house once. Maybe she hadn't seen anything worth protecting, thought we could handle predators of our own species without her help, or had an attitude because she had only been inside once...

I know how beloved people's pets are to them. They're serious. I don't always understand it, but I respect it. I know how they try to convince others that their pet is the best, cleanest, most well-adjusted, intelligent little creature ever, and has no memory of ever being a wild animal. I just don't know how clean one can get a dog or cat to be, or remain. 
By all means, do you. This is America, of course, where animals are often treated with more care and affection than people. Here in the good ol' USA, animals have rights to infiltrate spaces where some people would rather they not be welcome (i.e restaurants, airplanes, shopping malls, hotels, parks, beaches, churches, neighborhoods, Earth)
Please. Do you, where animals are concerned. This is just me and my no-pet-having self's rant, birthed out of my frustration and general concern about parasites, bacteria and lung damage. Yeah, yeah. I know. Some pets are cleaner than people. I've heard that. I'm not so convinced of it, but I've heard it. I guess 'love of pet' causes many to excuse a lot of things, accept and overlook, and become oblivious to others, but today's random question is:

Do cat owners just get USED to the shockingly foul, something-died-and-is-rotting-apocalyptic-lung destroying-satanic smell that is USED KITTY LITTER?

Oh my goodness, gracious! Lord have mercy! HOW, in the name of all that is reasonable, can one NOT be knocked unconscious by their pet's litter box presents? What kind of hazmat situation is going on behind the closed doors of a cat owner's home? I don't think the Pentagon has considered 'used kitty litter' as a possible weapon of mass destruction. Perhaps the joint chiefs should. Just who do you call to report an assault on the atmosphere like used kitty litter? Your senator, or congressman? Homeland Security? Ghost Busters?

Please. If you have a cat(s) and live anywhere near other people, (i.e. apartment, condominium, neighborhood, Earth) although you may have become immune to the smell of your cat's used litter, or think it is tantamount to the finest French perfume, consider the health of your neighbors. Consider the pregnant and unborn among you. Consider the benefits of fresh air. Just be considerate, PERIOD, and dispose of it properly in bags--GOOD contractor clean-up bags--tied up securely, doubled, dipped in Clorox, sprayed with Lysol, and prayed over by the Pope.

Yes. You have a right to own a pet. You and your beloved pet have a right to be as nasty as you want to be in the privacy of your own home. But when your rights, to generate and tolerate the very stench of death, begin to infringe upon the rights of others, and force them to practice how long they can hold their breath, that's just plain abuse.
Okay.
Rant over.
Thanks.
Gotta find a mask.
*sigh*

SUNDAY THOUGHTS: WINDING DOWN

The sunshine has given way to thunder, lightening and rain, but it's okay. It's still a beautiful day.

 

The service at Zion today was so inspiring. Kindness, generosity, service, compassion, unselfishness, and giving were in the air!

 

God has a way of restoring your belief that there really are more good people in the world than bad. It may seem like it sometimes, but everyone is not mean, nasty and rude. There is so much to smile about; to rejoice about.

I was straightening up a little and ran across the notes I scribbled as I flew to Frankfurt last week. 

I had written all over my checkbook in every available blank space; on my itinerary, and Super Shuttle receipt. 

It helped me so much to write. Any other response to my unfortunate ordeal might have been problematic. 

Fortunately, it didn't take long to revive my spirits and put the whole incident in the Lord's capable hands. Pastor Battle was so right. It doesn't matter what's going on if, just like he saw the widow in Nain, Jesus sees me.

As I read my thoughts, I smiled as I recalled a travel group of elderly ladies who were en route to Prague. 

It seemed as if they were re-enacting scenes from "The Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood" right before my eyes. 

Their thick, southern accents were delightful. They knew their passenger rights as seniors, and they took advantage of every one of them. 

They requested wheelchairs even though all of them could walk. I was in awe of them--silver-haired, smartly dressed, feisty, faces beat, and no lack of adventurous spirit. 

I found myself wishing Mommy were still alive, and was a part of the group. These ladies were living their lives, and I was so proud of them--and inspired by their assertiveness and independence.

When I was finally settled into my room at the hotel last Wednesday morning, I was happy to see that there was a note pad beside the bed. (I don't know why I didn't just use my computer.) 

At the top of one page I had written and underlined, "Get stronger". 

Next to that was, "The situation is never petty, silly, or insignificant when it's happening to YOU".
On another page, I wrote:
"I used to have a problem with the comparisons special interest groups made concerning discrimination. No matter what the cause, it was likened to what Black people have endured in America. I used to think that unless you are Black in America, you couldn't possibly understand our specific brand of pain and frustration--until today on that flight. If you're feeling powerless, offended, weak, invisible, ignored, excluded, overlooked, disrespected, accused, belittled...the list may get longer. I think you get it. Hurt is hurt, but know that you have power--even in seemingly powerless situations."

On another page, in bold letters, I wrote, "MANNERS HAVE TO BE TAUGHT!",  and "YOU HAVE TO STAY PRAYED UP--CONNECTED!", and finally, "DEAL WITH THE CAUSE, DON'T REACT TO THE RESULTS!".

On yet another piece of paper, I'd written, "This Christian walk is all or nothing. Oh, Lord. I'll be wronged. I won't fight back. You've got it. If I do what I want to do, we'll both look crazy. Your way has GOT to be better--even if I never know the outcome...Change occurs when the right person--with clout--refuses to "just deal with it"...God will handle it! Don't let the time that God could be spending healing and comforting YOU, be spent demonstrating pity and sympathy for, and helping the enemy whose misfortune you wished for, gloated about, and laughed at...It's more important that your feelings be RIGHT, not just understandable. God's watching you, too." 

After that I remember being compelled to pray for the not-so-nice flight attendants.

On the back of a receipt, I wrote:

If you looked into the lives
Of people who hurt you the worst
You may be surprised to see
They're fairing worse than you
They've got troubles and trials
And problems, and stuff going on
That would make your head spin
And it's proof
What they do is SO not about you.
When you find out
Just take some time out to pray
I know it seems like a crazy way to deal
You wanna clap, and laugh, and gloat
And shout to everybody you know
For just a little while
It might make you feel better—
The thought that they're feeling blue—
But God's watching you.

There's a reason why
People do the things they do
You hurt; you cry
But don't let it destroy you
Don't let it annoy you
If there's a chance that tomorrow is coming
Let yesterday and all of its pain fade away
Today's today.
Today's today.

It's so good to be home; great to be with my daughter, but I had such a wonderful time in Germany. The enemy tried to wreck my stay there before I even touched the ground. If he could have kept me fearful, offended and hurt; if he could have convinced me to shut down...

SMH...

Wow. What a punk loser he is. 

What a strong tower God is...: )

RESURRECTION SUNDAY: MEMORIES

Mommy would spend the weekend leading up to Resurrection Sunday cooking, shopping, sewing, and pressing and pin-curling our hair. 

There would be days off from school, Easter baskets, lilies, chocolate bunnies, dyed-eggs, jelly beans, new white shoes, new dresses, new coats, ribbons, early church service, rejoicing, singing, preaching and more singing. (Oh, the marvelous hymns we'd sing!) 

There would be more white and pastel dresses and suits, and big fancy hats than you'd ever seen (There would be more people at church, too. Even as a child, I thought people should at least get credit for having a mind to be at church on such a special day). 

At the end of the day, there would be a big, Thanksgiving-like meal, long distance phone calls to relatives in Louisiana and Massachusetts, and finally, permission to raid the Easter baskets. The chocolate bunny's ears were the first to go.
The days leading up to Easter Sunday were happy for us, and full of anticipation, but a whole lot of work for Jesus and Mommy.

The photo is from Easter Sunday, 1972. Mommy had begun sewing later than usual, was busy putting finishing touches on coats and dresses, and Daddy was given the shoe-shopping task. He allowed my big sister Robyn and me get what we wanted when we got to the J.C. Penney store in Eastover Shopping Center. When we hurried to the back of the store, searched the shelves, and picked up our choice, he said, "Is that what ya'll want?" 

He wasn't down with spending all day in the store. He gave the salesman the shoe, and asked him to measure our feet. 

We'd picked out a pair of white, patent leather sling-backed mules. The salesman said he was sure they were out of my size. I'd become accustomed to that, and was disappointed until I saw the pretty white t-strapped pump with the chunky heel. 

I pointed them out to my father, and he gave the shoe to the salesman. When he came out from the stockroom with two boxes I was elated. 

Robyn and I strutted around on the store carpet like models. 

Daddy asked how they felt, and we both said "Fine!" 

It was a VERY happy day for me. No flat, long, ugly white, babyish, orthopedic shoes, but a pretty pair of t-strapped pumps that made my feet appear smaller. 

We walked out of the store smiling and swinging our shopping bags. 

Mommy was shocked, and fussed for quite a while when she saw them. 

Clearly the shoes didn't come from the children's department. 

She said something about us being too young, and mentioned broken ankles or legs and such--but she saw how happy we were, shook her head, kept sewing, and let us keep them. 

She understood. 

She liked shoes, too. Besides, Daddy wasn't taking us back, it was Saturday evening--Easter Eve--and the store would be closing soon.

When we posed for photos the next morning, my main concern was whether or not my shoes were in the picture frame. 

I was so happy that Easter. My feet hurt for the first time, too. 

Maybe there was something to those trips to Stride Rite and Boyce and Lewis that my mother insisted upon.

Jesus' feet hurt, too, one dreadful day, and sometimes, when wearing my now beloved high heels, it seems like I'm on a sick mission to feel his pain.
Happy Resurrection Sunday.
Love won...: )

"He is not here; he has risen, just as he said." ~Matthew 28:6

"Don't be alarmed," he said. "You are looking for Jesus the Nazarene, who was crucified. He has risen! He is not here. See the place where they laid him." ~Mark 16:6

"But God raised him from the dead, freeing him from the agony of death, because it was impossible for death to keep its hold on him." ~Acts 2:24

"LOW IN THE GRAVE HE LAY"
Words and music by Robert Lowry, 1874

 Low in the grave He lay, Jesus my Savior,
Waiting the coming day, Jesus my Lord!

Vainly they watch His bed, Jesus my Savior;
Vainly they seal the dead, Jesus my Lord!

Death cannot keep its Prey, Jesus my Savior;
He tore the bars away, Jesus my Lord!

Up from the grave He arose,
With a mighty triumph o’er His foes,
He arose a Victor from the dark domain,
And He lives forever, with His saints to reign.
He arose! He arose!
Hallelujah! 

Christ arose!

SERVICE?

Today's random question: Why hold food hostage?

It's Easter Eve. No doubt, gatherings and events have been planned that involve food. There's something to be said of presentation, but do you invite people over, put food in front of the hungry group, and expect them to just stare at it? Do you engage them in some activity, and tell them the meal is for "later"? Who said they will even WANT it "later"--after it has been sitting out for HOURS getting cold?
If your invited guests indicate that they are hungry NOW, and the food prepared (and ON the table ) is designated FOR them, why not allow them to eat it--ESPECIALLY while it's nice and hot? What should prevail? THEIR immediate hunger, or YOUR plan? If you don't want people to eat "now"; if you have decided that the TIME to eat is more important than the NEED to eat, don't put food in front of people! Honestly, is it for consumption or DECORATION? WHY go to all the trouble preparing a meal for people, and then allow it to be rendered an undesirable, unappetizing case of food poisoning? The only thing that goes on under cellophane at room temperature is condensation--and it does a serious injustice to the appeal of the meal. (Do you wonder sometimes if hosts are hoping that their guests DON'T eat, so that they can eat the food themselves?)
Dear Host (of any kind where food is involved)
Don't torture your guests. You invited them. Don't make them beg or feel unwelcome. If it IS for "later", keep it safely refrigerated, and then warm up the vittles whenever the "official" TIME to eat rolls around. Perhaps, by then, your guests will still be hungry--after they've managed to scrounge up a meal of Tic-Tacs and chewing gum.
Don't tell people that something belongs to them, and then arrogantly haggle over when, and how they use it--or behave as if you don't really want them to have it.
Sincerely,
Hungry People

**********************

There are some things that have to be taught--the earlier in life, the better. Kindness, courtesy, politeness, discretion, compassion and hospitality are among them. Never allow your title or position--or temporary assignment--to cause you to welcome an "I'm in-charge" spirit, and allow it to reign so much so, that you totally forget what it means to serve, to be reasonable, rational, and gracious. If you don't like people, have no consideration for their basic needs, OR you value things, protocol, pomp and circumstance, and appearances more than PEOPLE, there are some jobs--professional or voluntary-- that you just shouldn't seek or accept.

You can ALWAYS tell who took on the job to actually SERVE, and who took on the job just to be in the mix, or to have the rare opportunity to bark orders at others. Too many chiefs in ANY situation is a confused mess waiting to happen, and a poor reflection of the actual responsible entity or person. It is very important to choose wisely when delegating authority. One bad apple makes the whole bunch seem bananas--and leaves a bad taste in even an empty mouth.

FRIDAY THOUGHTS: TAKE THE HIGH ROAD

Get preoccupied with, angry about, or puzzled over the perceived prosperity and progress of people who have wronged you, and you'll have an extremely difficult time acknowledging, and being grateful for your own state of being. 

Allow adversity, inspired or orchestrated by others, to consume you, and you'll soon become bitter, spiteful and vengeful. 

Your own success will be an afterthought. 

You'll know when you need a major overhaul of your heart and mind when"what happened" becomes the topic of your every conversation--even with total strangers. 

You'll DEFINITELY know when, every time you see or hear "their" name, something turns inside you like the first signs of indigestion. 

When you get those first pangs of "I'm not over it", or "I can't forget it", RUN immediately to God. Don't stop for anything.

Don't let your purpose in life be hijacked. 

Don't let the hijacker be YOU. 

Let God handle the difficult, unforgiving, critical, hurtful people in your life. 

Let HIM take care of every person who became a willing vessel in the enemy's "steal, kill, and destroy" mission. 

Yes. You have options of what you COULD do to make yourself feel better, but never forget there is a really awesome plan for your life, designed especially by God. 

He's an expert at making wrong things right. 

He's a heart changer. 

He's thorough, and can do a much better job with His creation than you can. 

Refocus. 

Let go. 

If you think about it, the people who have caused you pain and grief, might have been like Goliath to your life, but they may be dealing with Goliath's bigger, scarier brothers in their OWN lives! 

Give your life's annoying, destructive giants to God. 

It's easier said than done, but never mind if:
1. periodically, "they're" going to be where you are--either legitimately, or just to annoy and pick on you
2. "they" have somehow infiltrated your circle of friends, or professional area of expertise
3. "they" STILL act like nothing ever happened
4. "they" have lied about you to gain favor or support
5. "they" have never said, "I'm sorry", rectified the situation, or repaired damages
6. "they're" still laughing/gloating about it
7. "they" still blame you

Don't allow ANY THING to hinder you from going, doing, moving, growing, or learning. 

In spite of what anyone has said or done to negatively impact your life, God always has his eye on YOU as well. 

How you behave, respond, and what you say is key. 

Godly is the way. 

Always ask Him to monitor your heart and check your attitude. 

Take the high road. 

Don't let anyone convince you that you're a coward or a punk for choosing it. 

It's not high because it's difficult to maneuver, it's because the air is better, you can see farther, and cover more ground. 

Besides, you need power to climb, and forgiveness is not optional.

REMINISCING ABOUT DEUTSCHLAND: STAND UP

It really is good to be home. I had such a wonderful time in Germany. The Rhineland-Palatinate area is simply gorgeous! The landscape is stunning--even as you travel at speeds that would earn you a fat ticket in the states. Everywhere I went was so clean. No trash or garbage. Everyone was so polite and friendly. It was so peaceful. I still remember just watching out of the window as auburn colored squirrels chased one another through the yard and played in the treetops.

I'm so proud of the Agape Christian Faith Center family. I pray that God continues to bless the church, school, and everyone who is kind enough to support their efforts to share the love of God, and provide an excellent, and safe educational environment for children. Agape really is a jewel in their Ramstein community.
I so enjoyed meeting people from all over the world at the services on last Saturday and Sunday, and it was amazing to see the progress the church has made. The last time I was there, one could only imaging what the building and sanctuary would be like. Today, it is a testament to hard work, faithfulness and leadership.

I really like Germany. I enjoyed window shopping in Landstuhl, and had wonderful meals at The Hotel Merkur and my new favorite Chinese restaurant "Shangri-La". Even the McDonalds at Am Koehlwaldchen 5 was a treat. The McCafe was very impressive, and I don't think I'd ever seen a filet of fish so neat! I did manage to get one delicious Fanta orange soda before I left, too. We had Mexican fare on Sunday after church, and the salsa and chips were so good, I barely touched my chicken. Romano's Macaroni Grill didn't disappoint, either.

The presentation of "The Living Last Supper" at Kaiserslautern Assembly of God was fantastic (and so was the hot chocolate a kind lady took the time to make for me there. It was a pleasure to meet Pastors Chuck and Marilyn Kackley. It's so nice to know that real ministry--real religion is a reality.

My very gracious hosts treated me to the movies twice during my week-long stay. The first time, we went to see "The Eagle" (directed by Kevin McDonald and starring Channing Tatum, Jamie Bell and Donald Sutherland. It was a great tale of loyalty, trust and honor.) I'd settled in my seat, ready to watch the previews when "The Star Spangled Banner" began to play. Everyone immediately stood up with precision--except me. (It reminded me of my first time attending a Catholic mass at St. Thomas More church as a 6th grader. I didn't know whether to stand, kneel or sit.) No theater usher shouted, "All rise!" There was no flashing sign on the screen to alert everyone to get up. The music started to play and, on cue, I could hear the sounds of folding chairs retracting. It wasn't some new thing. It was a custom. Habitual. Expected. Embraced. Automatic. No one groaned or complained. Everyone was serious. Compliant. I, on the other hand, had to scramble to my feet-- and make sure I didn't drop my precious, fresh-popped popcorn. (Everyone who knows me, knows the importance of popcorn that has not been shoved in huge plastic bags, trucked in and deceitfully dumped in cold, lifeless machines, but transformed from kernel to fluffy goodness right before my very eyes.) I was the lone slow poke, making the lone noise with my chair. I was looking around, looking confused, and finally got the message by the time "...what so proudly we hailed..." rolled around. GET UP. Yes. You're at the movies. No, it's not your favorite Frankie Beverly jam, but SURELY you know what to do when you hear THAT song, American person, DON'T you? I felt like an idiot.

When people suddenly bolt out of their seats like that with no warning, your first thoughts are, "Is there a mouse?", "Is there an emergency?", "Should I duck? Take cover?". You wonder,"Who is the Running Coordinator? How fast can I run, and which exit should I use?" "OMG, WHAT'S GOING ON?"
EVERYONE, young and old, from the front to the rear, rose and listened to the prerecorded music, and watched the patriotic montage in silent reverence. I had NEVER stood for the National Anthem in a movie theater in my entire life! This movie theater, however, was not in America, but at Ramstein Air Base --where people are keenly aware that they are not at home, and that their safety can be compromised at any minute. They're remembering home all the time. It's for home that they serve. It's not difficult to long for home when the freedoms, choices and lifestyle you have are altered, different, or gone. It's easy to be at ease at home when someone else is staying awake.

Someone with authority had to secure a pass for me to enter the base. One day, one pass. Someone with responsibility had to then say that the credentials I presented were legitimate. There are a lot of someones at the gates of the base with visible, high powered weapons to make sure I was who I said I was, and there to do no harm. Once inside, I was subject to the rules, regulations and practices established. Access is a privilege, not a right. I could either enjoy the privilege and respect the culture, or forfeit the access. As an American citizen in a foreign land, as safe as I felt everywhere I went in Germany, there was an added layer of security each time I stepped foot on Ramstein Air Base.
I didn't know the drill at the theater, but I still felt a little ashamed. Sure. I'd stood for the singing of the National Anthem numerous times. I'd also sung it as others stood! But there was something about that customary act of patriotism, in a movie theater on a U.S. military base in another country, that made me realize how seriously some people take their role as defenders of a nation's people and interests. I realized how much they cherish home-- even when they are not presently there--and even while engaged in the simplest of activities.

The second time we went to the movies, I was ready--drink in the holder; popcorn and Milk Duds secure. ("Arthur" starring Russell Brand, Helen Mirren, Greta Gerwig, and Jennifer Garner was the flick of the evening. It's a VERY funny tale that explored conformity, control, responsibility, decision making, patience, love and freedom.)I was determined that I was going to be up and at 'em on "Oh, say can you see", this time, and not still trying to juggle my snacks while wiggling out of my seat "by the dawn's early light". This time, I knew to stand, WHEN to stand, wasn't caught off guard--and was feeling proud to be among people who served, currently serve, or have loved ones who serve so faithfully to protect us all.

Sometimes we take for granted just how blessed we are to live in the United States of America. People who aren't safe and sound at home have more affection, respect and gratitude for the liberties, rights, and perks that we enjoy than we do.
We often talk about what other countries do, and what we should embrace without knowing the back story or cost. The USA really is a blessed nation. Sure, there's lots we could complain about, but if we only knew what others had to endure each day, we'd show a lot more gratitude and a lot less attitude. if we only knew, we'd salute the flag and stand for the National Anthem every chance we got--not because we worship inanimate objects or people, but because the principles upon which the nation stands are good, honorable ones--whether the founding fathers or contemporary lawmakers and leaders fully intended them for ALL citizens or not. In the land of the free, some exercise their right not to be patriotic. On Ramstein Air Base everyone exercises the privilege to be a patriot--even at the movies.

There's a time to stand up for your rights, FOR right--even for yourself. It's so great to know when and how.

Now. Time to get readjusted to Eastern Standard Time, and ponder some decisions....: )

WAKING THOUGHTS

Thank you, Lord...: )

Aspirin. Elevation. Rubbing alcohol. Ahh. My feet and ankles look like my own again, and not my dear departed grandmother's. I should have gotten up and walked during the flight home. I thought I'd done the leg lifts and ankle circles often enough. I realize now how valuable it is to know the aircraft and where the best seats are. The return flight seat was a great one...: )

I'm so proud of my daughter. I admire her sense of service. Up early to volunteer at a non-profit before going to work. God bless her.

Yogurt, plums, strawberries and grapes. Oops. That's right. They're in a refrigerator in Germany. This is YOUR refrigerator. You're home now. There is a variety of tasty things to eat, and for that I'm grateful.
Note to self: Buy some fruit and yogurt.

I feel refreshed. It's early. I'm awake. Have been since 6:00 AM. I wonder how long this early waking will last. It's kind of nice, though. The sunshine is so encouraging.

I haven't heard a siren or the sound of traffic outside my window in 7 days. I kind of miss seeing the tall pine trees and beautiful Rhineland-Palatinate landscape already, but the lush green grass and cherry blossoms and flowers I now see in my neighborhood are beautiful.

I think I'll rest today...at least until it stops feeling like the crack before the crack of dawn. Jet lag...whew. Laundry all bagged and ready to go. Hair needs attention...Come on, burst of energy...

God took note, and blessed your life with people of integrity. Don't allow past disappointment to so disable your ability to distinguish them, that you lump them in with the slick, the self-serving, and the shady. Treasure those who don't just talk about it, but DEMONSTRATE just how much actual value they place, not only on your time, effort, and talent, but YOU as an individual---and don't stop there. Always note AND emulate their unselfishness, consistency, and sense of fairness and appropriateness in YOUR dealings with others.

Lovely day already.

HOME

The flight home FROM Frankfurt was light years away from the flight TO Frankfurt. From the smoothness of the ride to the courtesy of the flight staff, it was like night and day.
I'm so grateful to God for the last 8 days. Germany was so refreshing. I'm sleepy now. The clock says 8:17 PM but it feels like 2AM...I'm all unpacked...More later. Be it ever so humble, there really is no place like home...: )

HAPPY MONDAY

From the Founder's Day celebration and Sunday morning service in Ramstein, the Living Last Supper at Kaiserslautern Assembly of God, it really was a wonderful weekend. To say that I feel refreshed would be an understatement.

Here are some excerpts from an outstanding message spoken (at Agape Christian Faith Center in Ramstein on Saturday afternoon) by Otis V. Wilks, Pastor of the Tabernacle of Refuge Church, in Milton Keynes, Buckinghamshire, UK.
The message was aptly entitled "Just In Case".

"...When the law was read, the people of God stood. We're about to read the Law of God concerning our lives. We stand not in honor of a person, but in honor of God, and in observance of a principle. We stand for everything else, we need to stand for God, too....There are some situations taking place where humanity's focus has shifted off God, and their focus is now on building themselves up; making themselves look good....When God created humanity, he did not create it to glorify itself...When you hang around somebody, invariably, something of their glory--their style-- rubs off on you...God has created humanity in His image; in His style, to represent Him...The purpose of humanity is so that, when you turn up on the scene, they don't see Wilks coming; they don't see Smith coming-- but when you turn up on the scene, everything in the created order is supposed to hear and see GOD...When you speak to a thing, it's going to obey--not because you spoke to it, but because when you opened up your big mouth, it heard God, 'cause you've been created in His image...When I turn up on the scene, I ought to expect something in the atmosphere to change. I'm a walking, talking rebuke to the devil and his co-workers simply because I carry and bear the image of God...If you represent God, you don't always have to open your mouth to rebuke. You just need to show up...When humanity turns its focus off representing God and begins to glorify itself, it defies its purpose. Any time a thing has reached the end of its purpose, one of two things must happen-- either it must be revived, or it must be thrown away..."



"...Even though there is the APPEARANCE that we are speaking the same language, MY understanding, of the language used, has been colored by my social/ political situation--which is entirely different from yours...So, we're using the same words, the same verbiage, the same language, but yet there is disagreement somewhere in the mix, because our communication has been scrambled. Now, we speak in the same language, so really, we OUGHT to be in agreement, but the problem is there's been a mis-communication...You've got to be able to see past the thing that offends you, to look at what lays BEHIND, it--to get behind what you are hearing--because its only when you get behind what you're hearing, you will REALLY see what THEY are trying to say; what THEY are trying to do, and not what you THINK... if you took the time just to find out where I'm coming from, you might be able to help me...It really is not just about our relationship with each other that mis-communication can come in, but it can EVEN come in, in the context of reading and understanding scripture..."



"What do you do when the hell you're in is because of the Heaven you're trying to reach? What do you do when pursuing GOD places you right in the middle of hell?...That is where (the apostle) Paul finds himself. He's sitting down in a prison cell preaching the Gospel--in a PRISON cell...Paul is a living witness that, on the other side of SMOOTH, sure 'nough, you're going to find you some ROUGH...negative situations can indeed catch up with the child of God...but GOD!...What do you do when the hell you're in is because of the Heaven you're trying to reach, but the outcome is uncertain?...Make a mental transition...Grow up. Since I'm in hell trying to reach Heaven, Paul says I'm going to sit here in these chains and preach anyhow...Even if it doesn't work out, I will bless the Lord at all times...I'm going to praise Him like I've never praised before--just in case...Hallelujah."
~Otis V. Wilks

LEAVING THE MERKUR

The Rolladen blinds are amazing. If I'd left them down it would seem that the computer clock is accurate, and I should still be asleep. When I raised them, the gorgeous Ramstein sunshine came breaking through the window. It was a little chilly outdoors last night after we left rehearsal. I was so glad to have some leftover shrimp with garlic sauce from Shangri-La. Thank God for the very efficient Sharp microwave!
I'm excited to see what the day will hold. 
(NOTE TO SELF: Buy a Braun EasyStyle iron as soon as you get home.)There's a Britcom fest on itv3, but I can't get caught up in it as much as I'd like. It'll be 11 o'clock before I know it. Lovely Altenglan, here I come...: )

SHANGRI-LA

Kaiserstr. 139, Landstuhl. It's the address of my favorite Chinese Restaurant here in Germany. It's clean, the service is prompt and very courteous, and the shrimp with garlic sauce and ribs were as tasty as I remembered them to be. I'm a happy camper.

THURSDAY THOUGHTS: IN THE AIR: TO GERMANY

There you are, happily buckled in your seat--your carry-on baggage stowed. 

You've greeted your seatmate, and located your headphones. 

You made it to the airport on time, rejoiced that your bag wasn't too heavy, were led around in a maze like a frequent-flying rat, exposed to a "healthy" dose of radiation, reassured that your blurry, x-rays won't end up on the internet, and were, for all intents and purposes, felt up by a stranger (who insisted they didn't enjoy it any more than you did). 

It's life at the airport after 9/11. 

You may as well wear a towel and flip flops, and send your luggage ahead to your destination, via UPS. 

There you are, anticipating a pleasant trip, the customary soft drink, and 8.5 honey-roasted peanuts. 

Suddenly, the seat in front of you comes flying toward your forehead like a runaway missile. 

God forbid, your tray table is down. You'll be sliced in half like a magician's unwilling assistant. 

The in-seat video monitor is now at an angle. The movie you WERE watching is now watching the floor. 

Your soda goes left, and your puzzle book and peanuts go right.

 

You're trapped. You felt like a sardine before, but you could live with that. Now, you're feeling like a SQUASHED sardine. 

So, you gently tap the person in front of you, point out that the already small space you have has been lessened by 75%, and you ask, as politely as you know how, if they would kindly have a little compassion and put up their seat. (Note all of the extreme kindness involved.) 
They know what they have done. They were just hoping their move would go unnoticed. They roll their eyes, and ask coldly, "What do you expect me to do?". You tell them that you "expect" them to be a considerate human being and put their seat back up. 

In a huff, they reluctantly put up their seat, as if you've just told them to go to hell without dying first. 

Minutes later, after thinking about it, they decide that they don't care about you, OR your limited space, and they recline AGAIN. 

You're startled AGAIN, so you ask AGAIN. "Please, could you put up your seat? It's really cramped back here". 

Maybe you can appeal to their sense of empathy, but, wait--they have none. 

They tell you they don't care about your lack of space, they intend to leave the seat in your face, and they turn around, leaving you with the prospect of flying with them AND their dandruff in your lap. 

They recline even more than before, just to FURTHER show you how little they care about your comfort. 

You feel like that poor turtle named Mack in the Dr. Seuss story "Yertle the Turtle". 

Nice, peace-loving, and gentle, didn't work. 

As a matter of fact, they got totally disregarded. Frustrated, sad, and defeated, you decide to:
A. Sit there like a moron sardine, and count the number of hairs on their head.
B. Push the seat back up off of you, and out of your space.
C. Call for a flight attendant, and hope a spawn of Satan doesn't show up instead.
D. Assign yourself a new seat, and pray you didn't exchange cramped quarters for an opportunity to be coughed and sneezed upon, or talked to death.
E. Cry.
F. Recline YOUR seat, and lie down in the lap of the person behind YOU, so that HE or SHE can count the hairs on YOUR head.
G. Haul off and slap the daylights out of yourself so you'll be rendered unconscious, thus spending the entire flight not knowing if the seat in front of you is back, upright, or swinging from the ceiling.
H. Really cry...just have a full-out meltdown.
I. None of the above
J. All of the above

Give up? Your best bet may be to sit there like a moron sardine--and maybe cry. Trying to get someone to do the right thing, or see your predicament, may very well land you in jail. 

If you can find a sympathetic flight attendant, you're fortunate, blessed, and depending on the airline, possibly dreaming. 

If all you've got, on your particular hellish flight, are sarcastic, antsy, tired, overworked, power-hungry people who have forgotten ALL about customer service, and only view themselves as post 9/11 sky police, don't even THINK about asking for ANYTHING.

 

The apparent correct answer, in these days of behaving badly, is for you to behave as rudely and as inconsiderately as the person in front of you, recline YOUR seat, and inconvenience the person BEHIND you. 

Seems like 'two wrongs making a wrong' is the way to go on occasion, these days, and sometimes, it's just 'too much like right' to acknowledge and correct gross errors in morality.

If you're sorta tall like me, knees against the seat in front of you are inevitable--especially if the person, sitting IN the seat in front of you, decides to recline. 

You're not being annoying, as you adjust your knee caps, you're just trying to minimize the swelling and bruising that is sure to come.

 

Be warned. Moving in ANY way may be construed as an antagonistic, aggressive, provocative, combative and hostile response, and may cause the person in front of you (who thinks it's perfectly alright to lie down in your lap), to freak out, alert a flight attendant about YOUR inconsideration, and brand you a criminal. 

You have to keep "vewy, vewy" still. 

Touching the seat in front of you may land you in "big trouble" with the nasty law enforcement authorities waiting at your destination--"and you don't want THAT". 

You MUST keep in mind, as your circulation slows to a screeching halt, that you were just flying to spend time with friends, family, or maybe business associates--not inmates.

I get it now. The passenger in front of me had a "right to recline". 

I didn't, however, have a "right" to be comfortable. 

I was told I had the same "right" to be a pain-in-the-neck to the person behind me. 

What you DON'T do is push the beloved seat off of your knees and back into its upright position. You don't interact with it in any way, thereby making the person in front of you FULLY aware of the discomfort they are causing. If you do, suddenly THEY will feel offended, wronged, uncomfortable and inconvenienced. 

Whether it is on purpose, or a knee-jerk reaction to the back of a chair coming at you unexpectedly, any attempt to protect yourself, or hang on to what little space you DO enjoy, is a definite no-no. 

It doesn't seem fair, right, reasonable, or even HUMAN for that matter, to find that your inconvenience is considered frivolous, and your position is meritless. 

You're just supposed to deal with it, behave as badly as others do, or "Don't fly". 

Don't fly? DON'T FLY. I heard that being said to one too many people:
*The mother of a 3 year old who was chosen for a second bag inspection.
*The parents whose young son got up to go to the restroom, seconds before the captain indicated there was turbulence ahead.
*The woman who was told her luggage required her to shell out another $600.00.

Uh...Dear Airline President, is the scripted message that flight attendants are being taught to say to passengers--paying customers-- these days, "Maybe you shouldn't fly"?

(When people don't care--if it is their nature to be selfish--not much except divine intervention can change that.)

I didn't feel like a valued customer OR a passenger yesterday. 

Yes. I DID have a choice of airlines to fly, and I'm beginning to think that the little parting speech at the end of the flight is, often times, just something to say.
I've flown for years on numerous airlines, and yesterday's flight was by far the WORST experience I have ever had. 

The turbulence I could deal with. The incessant bumping and rocking was NOTHING, compared to being yelled at, being treated like a potential convict, and threatened with arrest upon arrival in a foreign land all because I moved a seat off of my knees. 

I have seen rude flight attendants and uncaring, unhelpful, stone-faced agents before, but yesterday was by far the absolute WORST example of customer service and conflict resolution EVER. 

When I observed bad behavior toward passengers BEFORE I boarded the plane, I should have known there was a possibility that MY turn was coming.

I was SO happy when the plane touched down, I wanted to cry. 

A flight attendant stopped me on my way off of the plane, told me she saw what happened, and suggested I file a complaint with the airline. "You HAVE to write it up", she said as she gave me her name. 

Perhaps she knows something that I don't. Maybe over-the-top rudeness is the norm among her colleagues, and I wasn't the first passenger who has been treated so horribly. 

I've considered drafting a letter, but I honestly don't know how much good it will do. 

When I took out pen and paper to write, the rudest of the flight attendants saw me, and made sure I knew his name. "That's right! Joseph!", he said in a manner that made me conclude that his brand of customer service has gone unchecked for a while, and now he thinks he has a license to be a certified jerk. 

I looked at him and shook my head. I'm surprised he didn't spell his name for me. I suppose he thought he'd won. I suddenly felt pity for him. Maybe the power he wields onboard the plane is all the power he has anywhere.

I can't get yesterday back, but I do know what to do--and what NOT to do--in the unfortunate event that it happens again. I did sincerely pray that there would be a different flight crew on board when it's time to return to the states.

The whole discussion of whether something is a "right" should be SIMPLE. If it negatively impacts, or infringes upon the rights of another person, it seems that there should be NO question whether a particular behavior is inappropriate or abusive. 

I WISH I had seen the CNN article BEFORE I boarded the plane. Better late than never, I suppose. Apparently there's a new phenomena called "Air Rage".

I TOTALLY understand how the defendant in the case feels. My situation didn't involve me assaulting another passenger--just trying to reason with her (to no avail), and attracting the attention of flight attendants-- who wasted no time berating me. It seems that pushing an occupied seat out of your way is the same as pushing the person who occupies it. Someone reclining their seat and infringing upon your space is ALLOWED, by virtue of the fact that there's a 'recline' button on their seat. Your reasonable reaction to their sudden, invasive movement is NOT allowed, by virtue of the fact that there is a 'recline' button on your seat. Got it?

I've never had the pleasure of having the captain of a plane come, kneel down by my seat, and personally talk to me in all the years I've flown. Fortunately, this one was somewhat sympathetic, and still knows what "customer service" means. Even the passenger next to me tried to help me plead my case. Nothing we said counted. The conclusion of the matter was, if someone is rude to YOU, your only recourse is to be rude to someone else. 

No. I won't be embracing that philosophy, and no, I'm not going to stop flying. 

Lesson learned. 

After 9/11, passengers on planes became potential suspects. People are nervous and waiting for ANYTHING to jump off. Nerves are bad. Patience is low. Tolerance is too. Make a move, and someone will jump in your chest first and ask questions later. Nice and law-abiding has nothing to do with it. Child or adult, you are at the mercy of the crew on board an airplane, and have mercy on YOU if they missed the customer service seminar.

Your reaction is key! No matter how badly you're treated, how you respond is the difference between your cause being supported, you being reprimanded, branded an instigator, or labeled the bad guy.
You can have expectations that people will do the right thing in any given situation, but kindness, compassion, consideration, and fair play are among things in life that have to be taught. Some principles are either instilled and embraced, or promptly adopted as a result of finding ONESELF in the uncomfortable shoes of someone else.

*********************

Two smiling faces greeted me after I went through customs and got my luggage. God how I appreciate nice people! 

The kind lady, who'd sat next to me on the plane, gave me a hug and said, "God is in control". 

She also alerted me to the cultural nature of what happened on the plane. I never even considered cultural implications. Good grief! Was I looked upon as the proverbial "Angry Black Woman"? 

Is that why the flight attendants automatically assumed I was at fault? Is that why the captain was summoned? My seat mate told me, "You Americans ask, 'Is it okay to do this or that?' You are too polite. Everyone is not like that". I surely THOUGHT I had been polite. Good grief.

Even at speeds that MY speedometer only gets to display, but never experience, the ride to Ramstein, after my ordeal, was so WONDERFULLY pleasant. 

I just admired the scenery, and snapped a few pictures. 

There was a bottle of purified water (that I desperately needed), candies and mints for me in the car. 

With every mile, I could feel myself calming down. 

Before I knew it, I had drifted off to sleep. 

At the Hotel Merkur, everything had already been taken care of. 

My room was ready. I was escorted to my room, where a beautiful floral arrangement and gift basket awaited me. I thanked God profusely. It was nice to chat with my host for a while, and nice to be shown kindness and hospitality. 

"Do you need anything?" 

My eye was on what I needed--a very clean shower, and a neatly made, comfortable bed.

Germany. 

Eight days. 

I don't know where the rest of Wednesday went.
Day ONE began with excitement and anticipation and morphed into offense, hurt, hostility, threat, accusation, defeat, and sadness; then ended in peace. It seemed like EVERYTHING I read or heard when I got to Germany, was fighting to help me forget, or at least, have a different attitude about flight 952.

 

A character on an animated program on the CBBC was explaining the definition of "subjective", and how to determine what IS and is NOT funny; then I heard the "Rocky" theme. 

After that, another character said, "We're going to keep on doing this until you get it right". 

The TV stayed on all night, and drilling of some kind began outside my window at 8:00 AM. 

I didn't care. 

The Sun was shining bright, "Scooby Doo" was on, and someone told Shaggy, "Cheer up. Enjoy the parade". 

You couldn't tell me that message wasn't for me. 

On another channel, I listened to Tobias Megeman play his tuba, and Katrin Zellner's musical nose instruments. 

I watched "Loose Women" and heard, "If you keep comparing yourself to other people, it's going to drive you nuts!" 

Even the Coke commercial preached, "You should lighten up". 

Judge Judy declared, "You're mad at the wrong person! We're going to start again. I'm going to try and calm down..." 

Then, an injury lawyers' commercial prophesied, "You can say 'It's fate', or you can say, 'I absolutely didn't deserve that'.

Day TWO brought pondering, questioning, praying, residue, displays of kindness, exhaustion, and spirituality working overtime. 

I had dreamed that there had been a fire drill at the hotel, and everyone on the plane was lined up against the wall in the hallway--except me. 

I had heard an alarm, and a man's voice coming through the TV speakers telling everyone to leave their rooms. 

I went to the bathroom, saw a weird bug and promptly killed it. 

The door was open, and I saw another one crawling on the carpet. Then I heard the door to the room open. I screamed, "Excuse me! Wait a minute!" until the door closed again. 

I noticed when I woke up, that the door handle in my dream and the actual door handle were very different. There had been no fire drill, false alarm, line up in the hallway, or bugs. 

It really was all a dream, but the ordeal on the plane was real, and I was still feeling it. 

Anger is a great motivator, but I was determined I would not be motivated to wreck the rest of my stay by dwelling on the flight. I looked at my beautiful flowers, and thanked God.
Everything I heard, saw, and read seemed to be a comforting, encouraging reminder to put the events of the flight behind me. 

They were just a distraction. 

Even my bag of Uncle Ray's potato chips was ministering to me! 

Who knew you could learn anything from a bag of chips, except the calorie count, and saturated fat content? 

I have to hand it to Uncle Ray for the lesson on "Persuasiveness".

Day THREE has brought joy, relief, laughter, refreshing, and fellowship.

I'm SOOOOOO grateful.