The Autumn of My Life by Jaye Lewis

Hello friends,

Time has a way of slipping away from us. We start out in the springtime of our lives. Everything we dream about is far, far away. Christmas will never come, and when it does, it ends so quickly. Summer speeds by us way too fast, and before we know it, summer is over and we are back in school.

Some of us have happy memories of our school days. I don't. School was a constant barrage of moving here and there, and meeting strangers, not friends. Days crawled by, exchanging one humiliation for another, always knowing that when we left, I would be forgotten and never remembered again.

Then comes the summer of our lives. Summer is a time of colorful parties, with ice cream running down our arms. It is a time for playing tag in the wee hours of the evening, while it is still light. At fifteen we lived in Louisville, Kentucky, and the evening was long and just light enough to get me in trouble. I loved to take my tennis racket and ball, and I would go over to the parking lot across the street to bounce my tennis ball against the blank, brick wall. Back and forth I'd go, bouncing away until the sweat dripped into my eyes, and I was tired to the bone. I enjoyed being alone, doing the things I loved. Being alone meant I didn't have to think of something interesting to say, to someone who didn't care. Being alone meant I could do healthy things that were possible simply because I was alone.

Now, I am in the autumn of my life. I'm sixty-four years old. The number, itself, means very little to me. I can't feel a number. Of course, I would love to look into a full length mirror and see a perfect picture of myself. But then, when I was young and beautiful, I would have told you I was plain, and even ugly, because I had been taught that of all those in my family, I was the least attractive of all. It's only now that I can look at a picture of me, long ago, and see what a lovely creature I was.

Now, I must look at myself in a whole new way. I must see my body through the eyes of my heart. Am I beautiful in my thoughts and my actions? Do I love much? Do I laugh more? Do I listen first, and talk last? Okay, I'm still working on that. Is my life so intertwined with the hopes and dreams of those I love, so that our lives, and hopes, and dreams become woven into a tapestry of reds, and greens, and gold? Or are our lives separate, and stingy, and cold?

Life is a tapestry. Much like a tartan plaid, each life is a thread, without which the cloth would be dull, and without beauty. In the autumn of my life, I strive for that tapestry, to be beautiful with warmth, and humor, and love. We cannot be young forever. Our youth will run by in a flash. And if our young lives are shallow, how can we have depth when we are old?

I have seen both sides. I have seen the very old be mean and calculating, having nothing but bitterness and loathing come out of their mouths. And I have seen those whose lives are filled with laughter, generosity, and love. Jesus said that the good man speaks from the goodness of his heart, and the evil man speaks from the evil of his heart, for out of the abundance of the heart, the mouth speaks.

Age is a reflection of the youth we have lived, with a life of generosity of spirit or the emptiness of selfishness. I have seen evil destroy itself, but I've also seen goodness live in the remembrance of those whose lives have been blessed with love and unselfishness. An ugly old man was once an ugly young one; and a mean old lady was a selfish young one. We cannot escape what we will become, except by intentional change and the grace of God.

These are the things that I have been mulling over in the autumn of my life. The rosy glow of dawn has been exchanged for the red and purple sky of the evening. However, I have seen sunsets which have lasted long into the purple dark of night. And these sunsets are the most beautiful of all. So, perhaps the autumn of my life will be a long and golden one, where I still have time to be a blessing to others, as I take the time to be thankful for each breath the Lord will give to me, before He comes to take me home. I hope I'll see you there.

With love,

Jaye Lewis

www.entertainingangles.org

Friends, feel free to forward this message to friends and acquaintances, however forward in entirety and always include my name and website address. Copyright Jaye Lewis, 2010

Great Health Resource by Jaye Lewis

Hello Friends,

Sometimes, no matter how big you are, or how small, you discover that you have something in common, something to share. I thought that this picture of our littlest dog, Peanut, and our biggest dog Jessie, is a good example of big and small depending on one another, and sharing a space.

I have something to share with you, that I believe will become a good resource for your questions about health and disease, especially after a year, behind us (thank God) where we were facing a frightening Pandemic. The resource that I'd like to share is http://www.infectionwatch.info/

I hope that you will turn to this new resource and get involved in their community, if that appeals to you. I'm sure that you will find something of interest to you.

God bless and keep you, with love,

Jaye Lewis

www.entertainingangels.org

Moderation In All Things By Jaye Lewis

Hello friends,

This has been a unique and painful day. I just lost a fight with our local government, over a new water line. I refused to sign an easement over to them, to allow them to dig up my yard. I was given the choice today. Either sign or have no water hook-up. Gee, let me think. Sign? Or no water? Difficult choice, since I have had no shower and my hair looks like a chicken had a bad hair day. So, we’re going to sign. The good news is that the water line is going down the other side of the street, because we resisted signing. Now, the worst they can do – I hope – is make a trench across the road, and cut the roots of a thirty year old maple tree, that was a young sapling when we bought our home. So, there’s gonna be a mess, but the trees that I planted as one-year-old seedlings will be saved. I hope.

The illustration I’m sharing, this inequity, is that life isn’t fair. We are frequently given difficult choices, and often we have to take the hard tumbles, roll over, and get up again. After all, my character hasn’t been assassinated, which has been the case of Shirley Sherrod, the ex-head of the Department of Agriculture’s rural development office in Georgia.

Shirley Sherrod’s true story is one of redemption. A change of heart. The heart we all should have. Having been raised in the south, I understand her story intimately. It is very strange, but I came across the accusation that was made about her, accusing her of racism. Failing to find a video of the snippet of a forty-five minute speech, I, of course, went to YouTube. There I found a longer version of her speech. It was there that I learned about her initial reaction to the plea of a white farmer, twenty years ago, and it was there that I learned the rest of the story and her change of heart. She said “it was revealed” to her that the issue was not about black or white, but the needs of the poor. So, she had a revelation, and there is only One Person who reveals and changes the human heart. God.

Of course, she suffered humiliation, helplessness, and the loss of her job, by a government which reacted without all the facts, leaving Shirley no choice, but to resign on the side of the road, through her Blackberry. Wow. No one has illustrated her plight more poignantly than Glen Beck on Fox News. Yes, Fox News journalists can do the right thing. I’ve never been a fan of Glen Beck, but I am proud of him for telling all of Shirley’s story.

So, here are two unrelated cases, Shirley’s and mine, where the power of the government meets the helplessness of the individual, and serves only itself. My humiliation is very small, while hers is very large, yet they are related when Government overcomes the rights of the individual, simply because they can. As an American, I ask you, what have we become?

The blogger, who released two lines of a speech, without investigating. Who didn’t bother to at least go to YouTube, in search of the whole story – was wrong. I say again, he was wrong. He justified his actions, by explaining away the agony that he was a part of. So, I ask, as human beings, what have we become?

Are we a nation of gossips? Do we accuse and refuse to seek the truth? Are we those whom the Bible speaks of, who have ears, yet refuse to hear? Or do we have eyes to see, yet we refuse to see? Have we become a country divided? Have we thrown away the grace of compassion or fairness? Truth is not truth, when we are satisfied with only half of it. If we believe in a just, as well as a merciful God, then we must – I repeat – we must seek the truth. We will stand before Him, and it will not matter our party affiliation. We will stand before Him whether we believe in Him or not. And if we are believers, and we are asked by Him, how did you spend your time on earth? How much, of the gifts I have given you, have you shared? What then?

I am fatigued by the climate of blame, in our government. I am sick of the corruption. I am sick of the incompetence and the constant finger pointing. I am a conservative; however, as a Christian believer, I must follow the teachings of Paul the Apostle, that we must practice moderation in all things. In all things. So, I will do my best to live by the teachings of Christ – to love others, to reach out with compassion, to forgive, even if I cannot trust, and above all to allow my life to reflect the Savior whom I serve. I fail. All the time. And I failed today.

Father in heaven, I know that I am inadequate in the message I try to give. I pray that You will accept these words by the intentions of my heart, even though I know how insufficient they are. May I live by your word. May I judge others only as I pray that You will judge me. I ask your forgiveness for my impetuous vanity, when I do not know the facts. Lord, please lead me on the paths of righteousness and grant me the grace to follow You.

With love,

Jaye Lewis

www.entertainingangels.org

God Doesn't Sleep by Jaye Lewis

Hello friends,

It seems like forever since I’ve written. First, I had an asthma attack, and at sixty-four I don’t have the ability to shake things off so easily, it was really bad. It was my fifth attack since the arrival of the H1N1 virus, last year, which hit us with a vengeance. Was it really just a year ago? I can’t believe it. It seemed like it would never end. Well, we survived, praise God. Only by His grace. I’m better now, able to eat healthfully and bike at least two miles a day, sometimes three to five.

This spring, however, we’ve had other difficulties. Many of us, across the U.S., have had rain, rain, rain. We have fared better, than people in flash flood areas, although we’ve had our share of anxiety, as the river and streams rose to flood stage. Most of us in the higher elevations of Virginia have been blessed with no flooding or rock slides. However, up the road, at the top of our ridge, there’s been some clear cutting. So, we’re beginning to rethink that whole “flood insurance” and rock slide insurance. We don’t want to be insurance poor, but we want to protect our family and our home.

The Blue Ridge Mountains are a beautiful green, atop a granite and sandstone base. It must have been a popular place for Paleo-Indian to hang out, because most people I know can turn over artifacts, simply by putting a shovel in the ground. It can be very exciting, just to peer through the grass and hope. I’m a rock hound. I cannot throw away a rock that looks remotely interesting. Usually I find that I’ve “ooohed and ahhhhhhhhed” over a “road rock,” basically granite. We have occasional rock slides, where the ground has been cut away for a road, but we have been blessed with few casualties. God bless the rescue teams all across this land. They are the unsung heroes. And common citizens have also risked their lives to save others.

I, presently, am laid up with plantar fasciitis, which is an inflammation in the tendon on the arch of my foot, which has made it unbearable to walk, or do my favorite chores. Both my daughters have been afflicted with injuries, too. My youngest daughter twisted her ankle, then fell down the stairs, so she’s on crutches. while my oldest suddenly flared up with two herniated discs. We have all been experiencing excruciating pain. So, in my beautiful garden, tall weeds have taken over, and my house…well, let’s not mention the floors, the laundry, and the dishes.

So what do we do? We are a close family, and we work together. We do what we can, and when we can’t, then we wait until we can again. We love God, and we each have a personal relationship with Him, as well as family worship. God knows us, and He loves us. He’s shown us this in the protected region where we live. He’s shown us in the relationships we have with Him and one another. He’s shown us in great ways and in small. Yet, still he allows us to suffer and fail. Why?

Is it because He is an unjust God? Does He no longer love us? Does He like watching us suffer? Or does He not exist at all? All of these accusations have been thrown in my face from time to time. However they are all lies. Not only do I know that God is just, but I have seen His mercy in my own life, and in my family’s. I know that it pains Him when I suffer; that He comforts me in my sorrow, and He has proven to me time after time, just how much He loves me. But most of all, I confess, GOD IS REAL!! So, we can’t see Him. He lives! The evidence is all around us. No accident gave us the beauty of this land. He loves us, all of us, and He is as close to each of us as is our next heartbeat.

I’m always amazed when a self-professed atheist goes on the attack. There is no God. There is no proof. Prove it. All this and more he accuses. Okay, here is my argument.

Tell me, what is gravity? Can you see it? Can you touch it? Are you willing to accept that gravity cannot be seen? That one can only know it is there, by observing it’s effects? So it is with God.

He is alive and with us, even though we can’t prove it by sight or touch, but we can see his effects. Can you have a relationship with gravity? I doubt it, nor would you want to; however, a relationship with God is constant, growing from grace to grace. He is with you in ways that gravity fails. I don’t know why He is not irresistible to everyone. He is warm and wonderful, and He fills my heart with His love, which I accept with all my heart. God fills me with love for others, even when, and perhaps, because they are different than I.

So, argue away, atheist. Believe in nothing, and when you die, quite frankly, you will receive a reward equal to your beliefs here on earth. I am quite certain that the only thing that you can take with you when you die, are the things you have given to others while you were here on earth: your service, your love, your forgiveness, your time, your energy, your encouragement – all the gifts of the Holy Spirit. Jesus said that even a cup of water to a thirsty soul, is more important than all the gold in the temple. A cup of water. Blessing one another. Respecting His earth, without being ridiculous. There are so many things that I could mention, but each of us must investigate with our own hearts. I Corinthians 13 Chapter is a good place to start.

I’ve thought a lot about the oil spill in the Gulf, I have shed many tears. It is a horror beyond imagining. My heart and my prayers go out to the people in the Gulf, many who have lived there all their lives. Many families go back hundreds of years. Why has this happened, aside from human error? I don’t know. It’s certainly not an Act of God, nor do I lay the blame on those who make their living in the Gulf. Perhaps there was greed. Was the company in a hurry? Were they neglectful regarding safety? Did they disregard the harm they could do? Yes, I believe they were callous, but I also have seen that they are trying to make amends, and, sadly, their efforts may have proven too little, too late.

So it is with all of us thoughtless human beings. We sin. It’s as simple as that. We make excuses, perhaps we repent, but then we sin again. Each person faces his own conscience. Each person to His own God, whether it is a false God or true. I only know that I worship the One, True, Living God, and at His feet I ask forgiveness.

God Doesn’t Sleep

God doesn’t sleep,

I’ve heard it said.

He hears our every cry.

He’s with us through every sorrow

And every last good-bye.

God doesn’t sleep.

His eyes can see

The trace of every tear.

He hears every child’s whisper

That is lisped into His ear.

Once I didn’t know Him,

And, yet, He carried me through

My deepest, darkest valley,

Saying, “Child I’m still with you.”

I’ve heard His voice within my heart,

A caress sent from above,

Saying, “Child, no matter your suffering,

“I command you now to love.”

To love? Where could it come from,

In a life filled with hopeless dreams,

Where hate was my only weapon

To take away the screams?

God made Himself so lovely

That I longed to feel His touch.

How pleasant was my sorrow

With a God who loves so much!

A paradox, I know it is.

How could God fill the dark

And reach inside my terror

To touch my trembling heart?

I don’t know how He did it.

I only know He did.

He opened all my secrets

Where I thought they were safely hid.

He banished all my sadness.

He gave me a life of hope.

He shows me how love triumphs,

When I’m at the end of my rope.

God doesn’t sleep when my eyelids close

In the bleak, uncertain night.

He rocks me in His gentle arms

And turns the dark to light.

I promise you, that God is here

No matter your sorrow or woe.

He’ll open His safe and gentle arms

And give you a place to go.

Run to His arms, He’s waiting.

His arms are big and wide.

He’ll rock you in His certain love

And give you a place to hide.

I should not be here, not at all,

And yet I’m here to say,

That God can take a weary life

And brush the tears away.

Trust His love, no matter what

Life has dealt to you.

He’ll turn your sorrow into joy

Before your journey’s through.

© Jaye Lewis, 2002

With love,

Jaye Lewis

www.entertainingangels.org

His Grace is Sufficient by Jaye Lewis

Hello friends,

It’s two days before Mother’s Day, and I’m spending mine in bed with another asthma attack. I hate these attacks. The feeling of suffocation is overwhelming at times. Since I’m a diabetic, I have to avoid prednisone, and so I’m on another corticosteroid, which usually takes longer, but also helps me control my blood sugar better.

Hospitalization is not on my list of things to do, especially with hourly insulin shots that may or may not work, and which could (improperly applied) bring on coma, insulin shock, or even death. I know, these words seem fatalistic, but that is my other choice. So, I’ll wait this out, be a good girl, and I will get well soon, I’m sure.

I’ve done some thinking about all of this, since my attack began last Thursday. I should NOT have waited until Monday to do a call into my doctor. Earlier treatment might just have nipped this in the bud, a lot sooner. So I have only myself to blame. But still, why this attack? Why did God not simply lift me from this ailment, and deliver me before I even got it? I have the evidence of His intimate caring.

Every day He gives to me. He shows me the sunsets, which He paints across the sky, just for me. And I get it. He shows me the colorful little birds which grace my yard and deck, trustingly knowing they will have water and food. And I get it. He encircles my life with my family, who are filled with sacrificial love, and they see to my every need. I am warm when it is cold outside, and I am cool when it is hot.

Then there are the little ways God gives to me; perhaps they are the biggest of all. I’ve been losing my sight, and it is very difficult at times. When the sun is shining, I can still see my garden, with all the trees that I raised from tiny seedlings. I can see the flowers and the towering maples that graced this yard the day we moved in. It has been a long process, turning this yard into something so breathtaking, yet God has led me on.

Almost daily, I lose things that are right in front of my eyes. When the light is low on a cloudy day, I cannot see the tiny details. So, I look and look, knowing that I’ve just passed each item by. That is when I truly turn to the Lord in trust and expectation.

“Lord,” I pray, “I cannot find this small item, that you know I need. Please lead me to where I may find it. You know I depend upon you.” It is rare for me not to immediately find, a lost prescription pill, that my dogs might eat; or an alcohol wipe so that I may test my sugar. Little things. Necessary things. Often things that might harm someone, even me: a tack or pin or toothpick that could go through my shoe. So many little things. And God takes the time and the care to find them for me. This is the God I worship and love.

So, why am I sitting up in bed, with my hair a mess, and, yet again, with that corticosteroid face beginning to show? Doesn’t God love me in this, too? Doesn’t He want to heal me of this? Doesn’t He want me to find my health, and keep it? I’m sure He does. But that’s not what He told the Apostle Paul.

Paul tells his story like this:

To keep me from becoming conceited because of…surpassingly great revelations, there was given me a thorn in my flesh, a messenger of Satan, to torment me. Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me. But he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ's sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong. 2 Corinthians 12:7-10

So God has told me today, “Jaye, my grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.”

“But Father, I want to be well and strong. It’s planting time, weeding time, digging up rocks, and transferring worms to other beds, time. I WANT TO BE WELLLL!!”

“Jaye, My grace is sufficient for you .”

“But Father…”

“My power is made perfect in [your] weakness.”

In just a few words, I’ve gone from anger and resentment, to acceptance and willingness. God is helping me find a need that I didn’t know I needed, and certainly didn’t want. But now I understand in my own small way. If I bear this testimony, that I give in my bed, wishing I could be outside and pull those gosh-awful weeds that are taking over my yard…well, His power is made great in my weakness.

For the longest time, in my Christian walk, I didn’t comprehend that illusive meaning of grace. “For it is by grace that we are saved, and not of ourselves,” the Bible tells us. What could this possibly mean? Suddenly one day, while pouring over these verses, the light suddenly dawned. The grace that I sought, had already been given, on a lonely hill called Golgotha, 2000 years ago. I can’t earn it. I can’t buy it. I can’t bribe God or promise Him anything for His great gift of grace. And then for Him to say that His grace is sufficient for me, because His power is made perfect in my weakness…? Tears come to my eyes, and I see so many more things than my eyes can behold.

Shining Star by Jaye Lewis

Shining Star filled with light,

For You, I’ll not give up the fight.

Through fire, cold, or rushing water,

I will be Your faithful daughter.

You are the One Who comes for me,

And pulls me from the raging sea.

You gather me within your arm

And keep me safe from any harm.

Dear Lord, my God, they do not see

The evidence you give to me.

They feel not your fingers brush their hair,

They know you not, yet do not care.

What shall I do? I’m just one voice;

A little one who makes the choice,

That I will serve you all my days,

In unimportant little ways.

Those little ways can change another,

Father, mother, sister, brother,

That all mankind will see in me,

The Shining Star I see in Thee.

© Jaye Lewis, May 5, 2010

Thank you, my friends, for listening today. I needed to write this. I needed to hear it. God’s grace is sufficient for me, just as it is for you.

HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY!!!

With love, Jaye Lewis

www.entertainingangels.org

She Stood Alone by Jaye Lewis

As we come to the week before Easter, we commemorate the crucifixion, death, and resurrection of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. That is my belief, and it is the belief of all true Christians. Without taking away from this sacred tenant of my faith, that I am lost without Him; that He is my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, I tiptoe into another view of that night.

I am no theologian, nor a scholar, nor a traditionalist, nor a Catholic. I aspire to the Evangelical creed that began hundreds of years ago, with the Protestant Reformation. My faith, however, is more compassionate than the originators, but certainly just as passionate.

It is easy, as a Protestant, of any faith, to forget the other “players” in this Divine production: God, Himself, on the Cross, dying so that I might be forgiven, washed by His cleansing blood, alone. But there is one whom we either forget about, or we deify. Both are wrong. She was only a woman; only a mother, and very much alone. This is her story:

She Stood Alone by Jaye Lewis

She stood, alone, with broken heart,

Upon a rocky hill.

The sky was dark, the voices harsh;

Eternity stood still.

She saw His eyes, so full of hurt;

His blood upon her hand;

But, though, He was the Lord of love;

She couldn’t understand.

For wasn’t He just a little boy,

Just a moment before?

Didn’t he cry, when he stumbled and fell,

As she helped him through the door?

Didn’t she wipe away his tears,

And wash away the blood?

Didn’t she lift him safely up,

As he tripped into the mud?

Wasn’t he all the world to her,

Just a baby in her arms?

Cooing and laughing, contentedly,

With all his baby charms?

Didn’t she hold him in the night,

When he ‘woke from terrible dreams?

And didn’t she promise she’d keep him safe,

As she hushed away his screams?

Yet, there she stood, beneath a Cross,

Helpless to ease His pain;

Trusting in God, yet, shuddering so,

As she heard His screams again.

Friendless, alone, abandoned,

Far from His mother’s breast;

A mother’s tears, wet the holy ground,

Where her Son passed His final test.

“It’s FINISHED!” She heard his valiant voice,

As with one, last burst he cried.

His broken body, collapsed on a cross,

She watched as her baby died.

At that moment, the heavens broke,

Redemption had its start;

But the mother remembered tiny hands,

Entwined within her heart.

So, as I await on my own bleak hill,

As my world seems tempest tossed,

I remember a mother, silent and still,

Beneath her “baby’s” Cross.

Jaye Lewis © 2001

At the time that I wrote this poem, my own child was very close to death. While sitting on the back deck, looking at the night sky, I had to ask the question that every mother asks. Why? My answer, and my peace, was this poem. In a strange way, with my own motherly fear, I felt connected to another mother, who stood, not at the Cross of the Savior of the World, but beneath the Cross of her baby. Yet, just as she saw her Son restored to her upon His Resurrection, I, also, received back from God, my own child, who was miraculously healed.

Some may call this thought, and this poem, blasphemy, but I call it the compassion of God, who knows and cares about all mothers.

With love, and Happy Easter,

Jaye Lewis

www.entertainingangels.org

Leaning On God's Promises By Jaye Lewis

My hardest job as a person with numerous medical conditions is overcoming my mid-winter blues. Sadness and despondency have haunted me in the last few weeks. It seems like forever since I’ve seen the sun for more than a day. Our climate is changing; that’s obvious, but I don’t think it’s getting warmer. We’ve had three summers in a row, that have been cooler than I ever remember. Last year, it rained all summer, and our garden was trashed so hard, that we now have a greenhouse and garden seedlings in the basement. Winters have been harsh and bitter cold. We can no longer get out into the garden in February, even wearing our warmest snuggies. Digging new beds for spring seems like a distant memory.

Having lived much of my younger days in the deep south, with ocean breezes and sunny days, these winters have been particularly depressing. On top of that, my mobility, due to fibromyalgia and neuropathy, has been marginal, and I fall frequently. So my days of skipping over hills and dales are over, and this, too, makes me sad. Oh, how I long for the sun.

My health has, actually, been pretty good. My asthma has finally come under control. I can now lay down to sleep, instead of nearly sitting up. My diabetes is also under control, due to my Lantus® Insulin, a timed release insulin shot, that I give myself once a day. I can eat normal things without worrying that my blood sugar will shoot up to dangerous levels. This should make me happy, but often I am nearly overcome with sadness.

Probably the hardest thing for me to accept is my lack of normal mobility. I seldom go anywhere, unless I’m taken, and my eyesight is so poor that I would be a danger on the road, to myself and everyone else. So what can I do?

Here we are, you and me – you with your problems, and me with mine. We are much alike. Perhaps you have only a few friends, just like me. It may be for a number of reasons. My reasons for so few friends, is because I can’t do the things that friends do – going here and going there. It’s an old story. “We’d love to have you come along, but…” There is always a “but.” You fill in the blanks.

Each of us, no matter who we are, no matter our position in life, has struggles. Health, whether physical or mental; family, whether loving or hateful; depression, whether temporary, like mine, or enduring like others — all these things, and many more, can be profound burdens, and heavy to bear.

I know of only one way to alleviate my suffering. I throw myself into the arms of the Lord. He is my Savior. He is the healer of my problems. He is the One person who never leaves me. He knows me better than anyone, and He loves me in spite of all the times that I let Him down.

I see myself as a little child, who has slipped into a raging torrent. He comes for me, and He finds me. I’ve been calling, and He’s been coming to solve all that assails me.

“Here I am, Lord. Please take my hand and save me!” Suddenly, I feel His strong hand clasping mine, as He lifts me out of the creek. Sobbing into his shoulder, He wipes away my tears.

“Come, child,” He says. “You are safe with me.” And I am…safe with Him.

Because of You

I walk through this day because of You, Lord.
No personal power of my own gets me out of bed and onto my knees.

You are the One Who gives me the desire to look up,
To open my eyes,
To push myself up off of the floor.
By Your strength, I walk.
By Your grace, I keep going.
When I stumble, You catch me in Your arms,
And when I fall, You carry me.

When I laugh, in the midst of my day,
It is a gift;
For You have shown me the ludicrous
In my situation.

Because of You, when tears come to my eyes,
I know that it is You Who have placed that seed
Of compassion, in my heart, for others.

You are my light,
My strength,
And my shield.

Without you, I have no life;
No peace;
And no joy.

Because of You and Your grace,
And Your love for me,
I take joy in every lovely thing I see.

You hold my breath in Your hand,
nd You own all my ways.
Because of You, I feel no self pity,
And I am thankful beyond words,
Just to be alive!

© Jaye Lewis, 2002

"God who holds [my] breath in His hand and owns all [my] ways." Daniel 5:23 NKJ

"Prayer is weakness leaning on omnipotence." W.S. Bowden

Only God Can Understand by Jaye Lewis

Only God can understand
The loneliness I feel,
When friendship turns to ashes
And nothing else seems real.

Only God can understand
Every yearning in my soul.
Only God can understand
How to make my spirit whole.

When I cry myself to sleep
Only He can see my tears.
Then I reach out with my heart,
And he banishes my fears.

Only He knows who I am;
Only He knows where I’ve been.
When I stand outside the gate
Then His love invites me in.

Only God can understand
Just how much I long to be
Strong and worthy in His eyes
In a way that I can see.

I cannot see myself
Through another person’s eyes;
For I am neither weak,
Nor am I strong and wise.

Neither view is truly me,
As I face my darkest day,
Begging God to make me well,
And take my pain away.

Only God can understand
The times I’ve given up.
Angry tears came bursting forth,
As I drank each bitter cup.

Only God can see beyond
My rebellious, childish ways.
Only He can take my nights
And turn them into days.

Only God can understand
My desperate whispered prayer.
Only He can touch my heart,
Telling me He’s truly there.

Do I run or do I stay?
That’s the paradox I face,
As I tremble on my knees,
When I now accept His grace.

Only God is with me still
Deep within my healing heart;
May I abide within His Love;
May I nevermore depart.

© Jaye Lewis, February 9, 2010

Celebrate Life by Jaye Lewis

We’ve lived in our Virginia home for twelve years. It was our dream home when we retired from the Navy, and it still is. It’s cool in summer, and it’s warm in winter. From my deck I can see the mountains all around me. And the sunsets are a glorious celebration of what this world can be. In hushed wonder, I watch the sky turn from rose, to gold, and red. One evening I even caught the images of the heavens on fire. Even the birds were quiet, as though they too were moved by God’s gift to each of us.

Every morning of my life is another celebration of movement and color, as birds from all around flock to my deck for safety, water, and food. Each creature, from the most drab to the most colorful, fills my day with such joy. Even the starlings, who gobble up the suet with glutinous glee, have a place in my heart. In mid-winter, they move themselves in, along with all their relatives, and hog the feeders until the following spring. As soon as the earth begins to warm, they poke their beaks greedily into the earth to eradicate every grub they can find. Because of their ingenuity, army worms no longer march, and web worms build their webs, and suddenly spin no more. This gardener is grateful for the assistance of these unlovely birds.

While most birds shed their colorful feathers, and put on a dull winter coat, so that they are less noticeable against the snow, the cardinal stands out in a brilliant Christmas red. No wonder they are celebrated on clothing, artwork, and greeting cards all season long. After twelve years of certainty that the restaurant is always open at our house, we’ve seen descendants of every bird species gather on our deck. We’ve cared for early and late nestlings, providing every kind of food they need. Even the hummingbirds come here to drink their fill at our nectar rich feeders, all summer long. Birders who study these things tell us that hummingbirds return year after year to the same garden, and often to the same branch of the tree on which they were hatched.

Each spring, my garden reflects the beauty of the sky and birds. Each flower arrays itself in brilliant color. I’m amazed that anyone can see such magnificence and believe that all these gifts are merely an accident. No God, they say, could provide such beauty, nor would He. And I say, they are liars, because the person who beholds such heart and soul, without feeling, must have no soul at all. And it is then that I think, perhaps their ancestors did, after all, climb out of a primordial goop. But mine were created and placed in a garden, where the Creator of the Universe breathed within them, the breath of life.

So, I will celebrate my life, in shades of red, and green, and blue, and gold. I will be thankful for each feather and flower and sunset – a cacophony of sight and sound, sent by God, so that I may fill my life with pure joy.

With love,
Jaye Lewis
www.entertainingangels.org
www.entertainingangelsencouragingwords.blogspot.com
www.jayelewisdiabetesdiary.blogspot.comwww.jayelewisliliesofthefield.blogspot.com

The Golden Door by Jaye Lewis

Hello friends,

Yesterday I had the honor of being published on Heartwarmers, the original online community of writers and readers on the web. I received some lovely responses to my story, many that truly touched my heart. Until this morning.

My story is basically about my trip to Miami, Florida, years ago, when I was a finalist in the Pillsbury Bake-off. It was thrilling, and I did win one of the prizes. However my greatest gift was the joyful response I received from the Cuban waiters, laundresses, and room cleaners. The only thing I did was speak to them with my rusty high school Spanish, out of respect for their struggles with our language, in their new country.

Well, this morning I received an email, in which a woman told me how un-American I was, since those people should have spoken English, not Spanish. Then she told me that she frequently went to France, where she did NOT speak English. She always TRIED to speak French, because she was in THEIR country! Then she told me that I was a disgrace to this country and a traitor, because I had betrayed those who died to make us free.

I gathered from her email, and her language, that I should have been just as rude and unfeeling as those who sat around me, ignoring the Cuban servers, as though they didn’t exist. So, this thought got me to wondering. Is this woman a Christian? Does she believe in anything, other than her own hatred?

Let’s suppose she is a Christian who warms a bench on Sunday morning. If she is, my guess is that she has heard of Jesus’ parable of the Good Samaritan. Does the parable make it clear that the Samaritan shook the injured man out of his stupor, then asked him, “can you speak Samaritan?” Did he walk away, because the man wasn’t one of his people? No. As Jesus said, the Samaritan was filled with compassion for the man, neither caring who nor what he was, but merely having mercy upon his plight. Then Jesus said, to all of us, “Go, and do likewise.”

Maybe she does not have faith in anything or anyone, except for her zeal for her country. Maybe her allegiance is grounded in the flag and her unfortunate view of those who take refuge in this country. I wonder if she has forgotten, or ever read, the words of Emma Lazarus’ immortal poem, which is written on a plaque at the base of our Statue of Liberty:

"Give me your tired, your poor,

Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,

The wretched refuse of your teeming shore,

Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"

That is the spirit of America. That is the spirit of the parable of the Good Samaritan. And so, in my limited way, with compassion in my heart for a legal immigrant, remembering that I, too, am the descendent of immigrants, I haltingly spoke the language of their childhood, to make them feel welcome. That is my sin. That is my shame. How horrible.

How does she know the Cubans did not know our language? If she can learn French, speaking another language, instead of English on American soil, then why can’t I or they? If I have learned anything in my life, I have learned this: that she, with a stone for a heart, wrote words in her email, that speak more about her, than they speak about me.

Did it hurt me, that she called me a traitor? Of course it did. I have ancestors that fought in the Revolutionary War for Independence. I have an ancestor who fought in the Civil War and was wounded at the Battle of Antietam. An elderly uncle of mine fought in the First World War. My father and uncles and cousins fought in the Korean War and World War II. I am a veteran of the Vietnam War. I proudly served in the United States Navy. My husband is a U.S. Navy Chief Petty Officer, retired. We have all served our country, honorably. So, when this lady calls someone a traitor, maybe she should learn more about whom she dishonors with her words.

Does she resent the aid given to Haiti? Does she resent the outpouring of the American spirit, so generously given, that phone lines, web sites, phone texting, and every other legitimate form of giving was in a log jam, because Americans would not hesitate to give with their hearts and their pocket books? People who do not have, gave. People who are afraid they will lose all they have, gave. And those of us who have been blessed with abundance, gave.

I’m proud to be an American. I’m proud to stand with those who served, and who serve now, in the U.S. Military, so that everything we love can remain free. In spite of that, I am profoundly aware that the full spirit of America is the compassionate outpouring of generosity from all of us, which has always been the heart and soul of America. That spirit is the power which lifts the Lady’s Lamp above the Golden Door.

God bless you, and thank you all.

With love,
Jaye Lewis
www.entertainingangels.org
www.jayelewisdiabetesdiary.blogspot.com
www.jayelewisliliesofthefield.blogspot.com

In God's Eyes by Jaye Lewis

God is so big. No one escapes His notice. Not the poorest of the poor. Nor the richest of the rich. Not those in power. Not those with no power. He is in the darkest dungeons. He is in the chambers of death. He is on the battle field, and in the hospitals where the wounded are often pitifully cared for. He weeps over the graves of the fallen, and He never forgets the evil-doer. God cannot abide those who whisper secrets that only He can hear. Those who plot. Those who plan. Everyone is within His sight.

God loves the humble, and He despises the proud. He comforts the broken-hearted. He’s not as interested in confession, as He is moved by the one who hates his own sin. What must He think of the one who boasts of His sin? I would not want to be in that person’s shoes on the day of judgment. I think, maybe, God is displeased with many organized religions of today, no matter their creed. Instead of arrogance behind closed doors, God wants the human heart that is open to Him.

Jesus said, “A time is coming, and has already come, when the true worshippers will worship the Father in spirit and in truth.” I hope that I stand among them. I love God. I’ve loved Him my entire life. I’m not talking about something unseemly. I am talking about being so lit on fire, that it can be read in my eyes and goes straight into my heart. Passionate love requires nothing of another. It simply is.

I see God in everything. In the sunrise and sunset. In the brilliant colors of the birds who crowd my feeders. In the look of trust that I see in my little dogs’ eyes. I can hear God’s pleasure in the purring of my little cat, who knows I will not sleep until I know that she is comfortable. I see God in my husband’s eyes, which light up in a special way that he has only for me. I see Him in the devotion of my daughters, who take care of me, as I used to take care of them.

God’s eyes watch over me and my family. He watches over the little birds that I care for. My pets are under His watchful care. And, my friends, He has His eyes on you. He knows your heart, your thoughts and your dreams, and He cares. He listens to your prayers, and you do pray, even if you do not acknowledge Him.

Have you ever known a contented atheist? Have you ever seen their contented smiles? Me neither, and I have known many. They can’t stop talking about God. They say He doesn’t exist, yet I can see the hatred in their eyes. How is it that someone can hate what they do not believe in? That’s a puzzle to me. I feel sorry for them.

God’s eyes look upon me, and I can feel His love. When I sin, I can feel His hurt. It breaks my heart, when I break His. He thinks I’m funny. I’m quite certain that He laughs at my sense of the ludicrous. I think He created that in me quite deliberately. Certainly Jesus loved a play on words. Didn’t He say, don’t start picking the speck out of your neighbor’s eye, until you’ve removed the board from your own? Now that’s ludicrous!

I love God’s heart. I can imagine the time He took with creation. He saw that it was good. St. Paul said that all creation awaits the coming of Jesus, and the regeneration of all things. The little birds, my pets, and all growing things, are all innocent of sin. They are in bondage for our sins. This little dog, who lies at my feet, is innocent, more than I could possibly be.

So, now you know, with all my faults and imperfections, I have a heart for God. He fills my universe. When I look at any living thing, I see His work, and I see the love in His eyes. He is my first love. He has filled my life with so much love. My husband. My children. My pets. And all things beautiful, that only He could make. God’s eyes. They are beautiful. And in His eyes, so are we.

With love,
Jaye Lewis
www.entertainingangels.org
www.jayelewisdiabetesdiary.blogspot.com
www.jayelewisliliesofthefield.blogspot.com

Searching for Miracles by Jaye Lewis

Before God spoke the universe into existence He knew my name.

Before He created the atmosphere He held me in His heart.

Before He created the oceans, the land, the plants and creeping things He chose the color of my hair.

Before He created the animals and before He created the first man He loved me.

He placed within Adam’s body all of the DNA of every human being who would ever walk the earth, and within him he placed the color of my eyes.

Before He knit me together within my mother’s womb he cherished the sound of my laugh.

Before I shed my first tear he felt my pain.

Before my sin, my sorrow, and my stubborn disobedience, he chose to carry them to the Cross. He hung there His blood pouring out…for me.

Why he chose to do this I cannot comprehend. God wanted me to be his own child. How can that be? With all of my flaws and character defects He wanted me to believe in Him, and He gave me the grace to believe in myself.

God loves me with a fire that can never be quenched. I am special to him, even if I am not special to anyone else, including myself.

I have tried to perfect myself, and I have failed.

I have tried to believe the world’s message, but I have found no answers.

I have followed the paths forged by others only to find disaster at every bend in the road.

Only God has given me the answers that I have sought. Peace. Love. Fulfillment.

The change in my life is not a complicated one.

It’s not about how good I am or how I pray or how often I go to church. It’s not about money or fame or popularity.

I cannot speak for others. They must decide for themselves.

I only know that the world has given me no happiness.

After searching my entire life, I have only been able to find the answers to my questions, on my knees at the foot of the Cross.

© Jaye Lewis, 2003

Encouraging Words for the New Year by Jaye Lewis

Hello friends,

I’ve been writing my Encouraging Words blog for nearly three years. I just checked today, and I’ll tell you, it surprised me. Has it really been that long? You’ve gone through a lot with me, and you have changed me. Because of you, little by little, I have begun to understand exactly what it means to give someone encouraging words. Because of you, I now understand that by using words of kindness and forgetting about myself, I am able to uplift and support. You have given that to me. But sometimes I just don’t know what to say. I don’t know how to say it. I try to reach out, yet, my reach is short, and I falter…even fail.

Jesus said, don’t worry about what you will say. The Holy Spirit will give you the right words to say. It is easier to believe that, than to practice it. I often feel inadequate, and the words just do not come. How can I let you down? How can I let God down. What do I do when the heavens seem silent? These are the things that are on my heart today.

We are between Christmas and New Years, either the most joyful or depressing time of the year, depending on the life you live. I can remember what it was like to be under the power of unrighteous human beings. I come from a strange and disturbing family. One never knows what will set them off. It’s impossible to measure the truth of their words, since all of their opinions are tinged with fabrication. I grew up in that atmosphere, and I did not fully escape until I was in my thirties, and my husband came to my rescue.

My husband. Kind. Righteous. Strong. Watchful. And protective. Oh how wonderful it is to hide from evil in his arms. I know I’m blessed by God with this good man. But what about those who do not have someone in their lives? What about those who have chosen to be single? Yes, that is a life-choice, even in this day and age. Well, what about them?

My friends, when I had no human comfort, and I had little girls to protect and defend, I still was not alone. There was God – and still is – and He was my defender in all things. It was within the feathers of His wings that I found my hiding place. Deep in His shadow, I knew I would remain safe. And it was He who gave me the strength to leave my situation, and He continued to defend and protect me, when I was a single mother. I could feel His presence deep into the night. Like a soft, summer breeze was His touch, to me.

So, knowing that words of encouragement come not from the mouth, but from the heart, I stumble. I do my best to listen to the Holy Spirit, and to speak the truth. I understand the needs that others have at this time of the year. I hope to speak to those needs. I understand the loneliness that this season can bring. I believe that God’s commission for me is to be as honest as I can, as clear as I can, as loving and as kind as I can. Lord knows I fail at this, but I’m trying.

Fear not! Scripture tells us. God is not only watching, but He is holding each of us in His arms. He tells us in Isaiah 49:15b,16a “Yet, will I not forget thee. Behold, I have graven (written, carved, inscribed) you on the palms of my hands.”(KJV) Wow! He has written me upon the palms of His hands. I am permanently carved in his hands. God cannot stop thinking of me; nor will He throw me away, because I belong to Him.

So, my friends, I hope your Christmas was happy, and I pray that your New Year is filled with hope and possibilities. May you look for those unexpected blessings that we often overlook. Look on the New Year as a new beginning. The old year is past, and all things will be new again.

Lord, Father, this is the time of the year when much seems hopeless. What have we all accomplished? How have we let You and each other down? Help us to see and believe that heaven is not silent, and help us, oh Lord, to joyfully place our hand in Yours and, together, travel the road ahead.

With love,
Jaye Lewis
www.entertainingangels.org
www.jayelewisdiabetesdiary.blogspot.com
www.jayelewisliliesofthefield.blogspot.com

The Gift of Life by Jaye Lewis

One of the most difficult aspects of being a senior diabetic is stabilizing my diabetes. I can’t help but ask myself, which combination of medicines will maintain equilibrium, to help me control my glucose. Which combination will make me sicker, as Byetta did, especially with that whole vomit factor? It’s a delicate balance. I remain very aware that not all my medicines were especially made to go together.

For instance, I have high blood pressure, so I’m on a very effective blood pressure medication, Benecar HCT 40-12.5. This drug, which lowers my blood pressure, includes a mild diuretic that also reduces water weight gain, creating a delicate balance in my system. The down side is that I must intake more salt than I find palatable. This stimulates thirst, and thirst for a diabetic is an unpleasant experience.

Another question I have is which medicine, or combination, destroyed my sense of smell? And my sense of taste is fading also. I miss tasting food. A lot. I miss the smell. And I really miss the anticipation before I take that first bite.

I’m also on Coreg CR, a time-release beta blocker, which controls my heart arrhythmia problem, caused by my asthma drugs. My diabetes drugs are Januvia in the morning with breakfast, and Glumetza in the evening with supper. This does a pretty good job of control, while still allowing me enough blood sugar to get on my treadmill and walk for a mile, without feeling faint.

Coreg and Benecar, together, can be a great blessing. My blood pressure goes down to the level I was at in high school, and my heart-rate remains constant. But there can be a downside. If I do not take in enough salt, my blood pressure can plunge to dangerously low levels. I can faint, get dizzy, groggy, and even fall asleep. The sleep episodes can feel like dying, and if my blood pressure is extremely low, well, only God knows. Very scary.

All of these medications, and a myriad of other drugs, are necessary gifts of life to me. Not only do they promise me a longer life, but they also give me quality of life. I can exercise, work at my favorite chores, particularly gardening – all of the activities that make up my humanity. In the house, I can praise God as I precariously carry a load of towels down to the laundry. I can gaze out the window, at my beautiful mountains, as I wash another plate from breakfast.

I can run on our back deck, with our little dogs. I can play with them without tiring. I can pull weeds from my garden, rake the fallen leaves, and truly put my garden to bed. With my medications and my heart and mind in balance, I can find joy in each new day.

So, in each life, there must be made room for balance. Tears and laughter, clamor and silence, beauty and the commonplace, a walk in the fresh air and reading by a cozy fire ― all these things need balance or life can be unbearable. I have lived an unbearable life, before God gave me this one. I know what it is like to stare into nothingness and believe my life was not worth living. I’m so glad I did not choose that final answer that is so prevalent at this time of year, especially for the chronically ill.

Oh, how I remember, one particular time, when ending my life seemed my only answer. I sat on a kitchen chair, by the phone, alone. I had just called a Catholic priest, a Methodist minister, and some other cleric of another faith. Each was busy. Very busy. Could I please hurry up? Give them the short version? Moving right along. I finally hung up, and I sat in that chair, watching the stairs which led up to my bedroom.

In my hand I clutched a bottle of pills. It wouldn’t take much to swallow them. Just a glass of water. Lying down, it wouldn’t take long. Then I could drift off to sleep. It didn’t matter that I was a woman of faith. It didn’t matter that I had a child who needed me. It didn’t matter that I knew that suicide was spitting in the face of God. I was at the end of my rope, and I and my problems were the most important things in my life.

Pulling the glass of water closer, I began to unscrew the cap on the bottle of pills. Then, something extraordinary took place. I don’t know if it really happened, or if it was a dream. I don’t know if I had a vision, or if I saw only in my minds eye. I only know that it was God given.

Looking at the stairs, ready to take my own life, I suddenly saw my mother moving from the kitchen to the bottom step. Her face looked like sunlight, and on her lips was a smile. She was humming, and all at once a little laugh-bubble burst forth. She was happy. Then, I saw her climb the stairs, heading straight for my room. When she entered my room, playful mischief lit up her features. Inexplicably, I saw myself lying on my bed, an empty bottle laying open on the floor.

I could see my mother’s features change, as she tickled my toes. She could feel they were very cold. Then she felt my arm, then my face. She leaned down, laying her head upon my chest, then checking my pulse, as the full realization dawned upon her features. Her little girl was dead by her own hand.

I could hear her screaming and screaming. Then racking sobs were torn from some place deep within. Sorrow. A sense of helplessness. Questions. What had she done to cause this? How had she failed me? As I lived this hopelessness and felt my mother’s anguish, I lay my face upon the table, in the palms of my hands. I could not do it. I could not bear the thought of her grief and horror.

I immediately got up from my chair. Shaking the bottle of pills and looking at it for the last time, I walked into the bathroom, opened the medicine cabinet, and I placed the pills inside. As I closed the cabinet door, I heard the back door slam. My mother had been outside all along. Chills crept up my spine and into my scalp. What had just happened?

“Come out!” my mother called. “There are birds to see and sunshine to feel. Winter is over, and spring is finally here!” I could hear the joy in her voice, a rare delight.

“In a minute, Mom!” I cried. “I’m coming right now.”

My eyes traveled heavenward, and I gave a grateful sigh, for the dream or vision or wild imagination that I had just been given. I could now deal with my mother’s depression, and I could deal with mine. Perhaps I could even be a blessing to her from time to time. As I hurried out to join my mother in her celebration of spring, I thanked God, in my heart, for the realization that I finally understood. Life itself was precious, even mine.

Forty years later, I still cannot say what happened that day. I remember the moments as they happened. I see them clearly, and I believe that God sent that event, strange though it was, for a purpose beyond what I can understand. Perhaps He sent it, so that I might now tell this story to you, to give you hope that He holds your future in the palm of His hand.

Father in heaven, grant us the grace, no matter our situation, to understand that life is your precious gift to us. Help us to celebrate each of our lives, to look for and find the miracles in the day to day. Help us to understand that we have choices. We can reach out of our own suffering and look for those chances to help others, in circumstances more troubling than our own. Perhaps we’ll see the child angels on countless Christmas trees, across our land, who have childhood needs that we can fulfill. Perhaps as we take the microscope off of our own trivialities, we will see the opportunities offered to bring joy to others. For this we pray, this season, and always.

With love,
Jaye Lewis
www.entertainingangels.org
www.jayelewisliliesofthefield.blogspot.com

Knowing My Heart by Jaye Lewis

My hair. It’s my one vanity. At sixty-three, my hair is still a red gold. My pictures are not touched up. My hair has never changed. This certainty may soon be over, at least for awhile.

You see, I have been diagnosed with Interstitial Cystitis, and the only medication approved by the FDA to treat Interstitial Cystitis (IC) is Elmiron. One of Elmiron’s side effects is a type of hair loss called alopecia. Yes, in the not too far distant future, I will have a bald spot ― a nice and shiny bald spot.

I’m a pretty woman, with a warm smile and lovely expressive eyes; however time and disease (not to mention medications) have taken their toll on my body. I’m no longer slender, and after much whining and complaining to God, I have accepted it. Since my asthma requires high doses of prednisone, which plays havoc with my diabetes, I am subject to a plethora of side effects, like weight gain. Although I fight the pounds with exercise and diet, I’m no longer counting on losing weight. I try to comfort myself, that when I’m in heaven, I’ll be a lot taller.

I only just found out my new condition, so I spent yesterday looking up IC diets. I actually found one. It was filled with foods to avoid ― all my favorite foods, like coffee, chocolate, heavy cream, and a host of others. Now, believe it or not, I was encouraged to drink my favorite mint tea and I can eat my daughter’s oat bread ― yum ― and other whole grain breads.

I’m to run from butter, but not margarine and lard. Who wrote this diet, and when? I can’t believe that margarine and lard are still on a list of preferred foods, anywhere! Just when was this diet dreamed up? 1972?? To be fair, I was urged to avoid only one food at a time ― sort of trial and error ― until I find which foods have an effect on my IC.

I’ve decided to start eliminating grains I’ve never eaten, like quinoa, spelt, and amaranth. This list was definitely compiled by someone who’s stuck in the seventies. I can’t have cream, but I can have ice-cream and Cool Whip?? No offense to the brand name, but I prefer real food rather than fake.

The list of bladder friendly foods is not too bad. Some of my favorites are on it. All kinds of dried beans, which make great soups. And pumpkin, egg plant, and squash. I can eat coconut cream pie, pork chops, and chicken.

It’s not so bad, really. This is just one more thing that proves that we live in a fallen world, much like in the days of Noah. And just because I have one more thing to deal with, it’s no reason for me to give up. I’m quite certain, with the polluted air we breathe and our contaminated food supply, there will always be something.

I will not give up, no matter what my situation is. I will always have a plan of action. Banning citrus fruits is not the end of the world. Anything that affects the bladder must be eliminated for a time. The internet is a tool to seek out information, and I must use common sense when searching. I’m smarter than I think I am, and so are you. We are not victims.

So, now I wait, trusting in God and believing in His mercy. I can laugh at myself, and at my situation, because laughter is also a gift from Him. At these times, I can’t help but wonder about atheists. How can they endure the trials and tribulations of this life, without God? What do they do when all hope is lost? Call on Darwin? What nonsense! Darwin has no power to help anyone.

When all hope seems lost, I choose to find my strength in God. My faith assures me that He has a plan for me; that He will see me through every sorrow; that He will not forsake me; and that every blessing I have comes from Him. I can easily count my blessings: my wonderful husband, my beautiful daughters, my loveable pups, and my cat MeowMeow, who follows me around like a puppy, meowing all the way. God has given me my home, my garden, and my strength to carry on ― all of these gifts are because of Him and His grace.

So, I lose my hair! There are wigs and hats. I don’t have to look beautiful, to be beautiful. My blessings were truly evident in an offer from my youngest daughter. She has red-gold hair, that flows down her back and shimmers in the sunlight.

“I’ll give you my hair, Momma,” She offered, while tears streamed down her cheeks. We hugged as I told her what an angel she is.

So now, I will wait, with a laugh bubble in my throat, enjoying the ludicrous in life, even when the ludicrous is me. I’ll take my medicine and accept whatever comes. I will believe in remission, because God has promised to heal me. Whether my body or my soul, that is good enough for me.

Oh Father, I am so weak, but You are strong. I am filled with doubt, but You fill me with Your grace. Hold me, Father, and wipe away my tears. I can feel your comfort. I can feel your safety. Help me, Lord, to know my heart. Help me to be strong, so that others will seek their strength in You. Be my hiding place, as well as all who seek You. And to You be the praise, the honor, and the glory, forever. Amen.

With love,
Jaye Lewis
www.entertainingangels.org
www.jayelewisdiabetesdiary.blogspot.com

www.jayelewisliliesofthefield.blogspot.com

A Veteran's Prayer: Remembering the Fallen by Jaye Lewis

Father help me remember;
May I recall to the very last.
As I set my eyes on the future,
May I not forget the past.

Help me recall the suffering,
And every sacrifice, too.
May I never forget each drop of blood
That was shed in the sight of You.

May I never forget the sorrow.
May I not erase the pain,
Of the ones who’ll not see tomorrow,
Because they were cruelly slain.

Father help me remember
Each and every face —
Of my sisters and my brothers
Who cannot be replaced.

In my heart I watch them go,
So young and unafraid.
Leaving behind their precious loves,
And the plans that they had made.

Father help me remember
The faces, voices, and lives,
Who sacrificed their future
For brothers, sisters, and wives.

How can it be that they should go
And I be left behind?
Perhaps, my child, so you can tell
These stories to the blind.

But who is blind, oh Father?
Those who will not see
The sacrifice of others,
So precious, now, to Me.

Now, yours is a sacred duty,
A chance to set things straight;
To tell their sacred story,
Before it grows too late.

I pondered all the whispered words.
I heard my Father say;
How He loved the fallen
Who abide with Him today.

My heart was broken as I thought
Of those who’d gone before;
Protecting those they do not know,
In a world that’s still at war.

And so, I made a promise;
One I strive to keep.
I’ll tell their stories one by one,
Until it’s time to sleep.

Father, I will not forget.
I’ll remember to the last;
As I set my eyes on the future,
I will not forsake the past.

Good-by, my precious brothers;
And to my sisters too.
Save a place at the Master’s table;
In time, I’ll dwell with you.

© Jaye Lewis, Veteran’s Day 2009

Good-By Little Boy by Jaye Lewis

Andy. He was my cousin. Disturbed and charming, even at the age of four, he stole my sixteen year old heart. I was wounded myself, and perhaps I saw a bit of myself in him. Also, I was born with a sense of the ludicrous, and though he annoyed me, even enraged me, he usually got me laughing, in spite of myself.

Andy’s father, my Uncle Donny, was tough on his boys, and Andy was one in a million, easily on his way to the church or prison. I don’t think his heart was evil, and Uncle Donny did so much to save me, so where did those lives fail to save themselves? When did everything go wrong for both of them?

Perhaps it was when Aunt Maggie died. Perhaps it was because my parents went through friends and relatives like water through a sieve, drawing battle lines in the sand and declaring evil, what once was good. I’ll never know. Out of necessity, I lost track long ago.

The only thing I know is that my Aunt died in childbirth when I was pregnant with my first child, more than 40 years ago. Then seven years later, Andy shot and killed his father. Was it an accident? Was it intentional? Did my uncle turn to drink, as was the habit of my family when anything went wrong? Did he beat Andy? Did he work long hours? Did he abandon the little boy, as he became a man? Again, I’ll never know.

Recently, I did an internet search to find them, and find them I did. It has become easier now, with all the competing websites. I suppose that I hoped that Andy had become a man, married, and had children. Perhaps he was a businessman, now, or a laborer, a craftsman, anything but what I found.

Andy is gone. Shot dead, by a bullet from his own weapon. All that potential, all that I loved, all that I remembered, the little boy who annoyed me and made me laugh, was no longer here. In my heart, he’s still alive, and still very much a little boy. As a wounded teen, from a very dysfunctional family, I was healed by my love for that little lost boy, and now he is gone.

I got out of the website, erased the history, shut down my computer, and I cried. Broken hearted and defeated, I sobbed for an hour, and then I gave Andy, my Uncle, and my Aunt to God. It was then that I was able to write the following poem.

Good-by Little Boy

Good-by little boy, who will never be
A man of honor and truth.
You had more strikes against you
And burdens that stole your youth.

And, yet, you chose to end your hopes
One day with a loaded gun;
It was your decision; remember that.
You could have turned and run.

I do not know the demons
That pushed you to your fate;
You made your awful decision
And now it’s just too late.

Good-by little boy, my cousin dear,
Wish I could have saved you somehow.
Perhaps you were given a time to repent,
And you’re in God’s arms right now.

Yet, through the years you’ll always be
The child I learned to love;
Filled with fire and promise;
I pray, now, with God above.

© Jaye Lewis, 2009

Father in Heaven, thank You for the lives that have touched ours and changed our hearts forever. Let us not lose hope when someone dies, even in the worst of circumstances. Let us understand that in that brief second before we step into the great divide, there still are choices. Angels abide in those moments, although unseen to the rest of us. We only see our grief and our hopes lost, but let us never assume that all is lost, for we have You, oh Lord, as the rock to which we cling.

With love,
Jaye Lewis
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