Road Trip

Happiness is found on the road, moving in sync with time; chasing the horizon and then leaving it behind, in pursuit of the next visible goal. It is the purest expression of life, constant motion and never knowing what will happen next. All preparations for the final destination, in road maps, travel times, weather forecasts, the well-thought out plans, are swept away by the uncertainty of the road. When anything can happen, there is no alternative but to move forward by faith; and enjoy the experience of chasing the future while resting in the now. Although this is the factual truth of everyday life, nothing makes life’s reality as tangible as a road-trip.

Marriage is a road-trip. For many, it’s a short, rough journey, with an abrupt end. Others are blessed by companionship that transcends all road conditions and journey together for a lifetime. I have been blessed with such a husband and there is nothing I enjoy more than a long drive together in contemplation of all we’ve survived, accomplished, and overcome, as we continue to move toward the future. We are a miracle and each of knows that if it were not for that Third Cord, which binds us together, we would have unraveled years ago. Our interests are varied and made most evident as we travel; while he listens to Rush Limblah-blah-blah and I think about colors. I lose myself in the landscape, as I compare the natural revelation to the scripture stored in my heart. I wrestle with ideas as he reviews football stats. I think about redecorating (again) and he thinks about paying the bills. He has not a glimmer as to why poetry is important and can’t tell the difference between Picasso and Monet. A mind set on the practical can’t quite comprehend the deep meaning expressed in art and he’s too busy completing tasks to invest the time to learn. I am the thinker who dreams and he is the doer that accomplishes them. Our faith in God and the love we have for each other joins our opposing personalities in a strengthened twine that makes us a successful team.

Though I am amazed that Rush has been blah-blah-blahing for at least, twenty years now, he can only be heard for three hours each day. When the Hillary expose’ is over, I pop in the Who, then switch over to Johnny Cash and throw in the Beach Boys to keep him happy as we sing along about the cars he loves. ( I sing these Beach Boys tunes of my husband’s youth with joy, knowing that I am the New Mexico girl, the desert fox, who made all his dreams of California girls vanish, without a trace.) The road ahead of us is long; still hours and hours to go but we are lost in celebration of our lives and the remembering of everything we’ve built and done together. We talk about the kids; laugh over sweet memories of when they were little and then fawn over the grandchildren, wondering why we didn’t have them first. We shed a few tears over the failures, disappointments, and calamities that left painful scars. I switch from Johnny to Belinda Gail and singing along, we give praise to the One who blesses us and keeps us through the good times and the bad. We rejoice in the Love sent on the wings of a dove. I am so thankful for my husband, one so the opposite of me, who is able to complete my dreams. I’m thankful I am married to the man God chose for me and not to some of the ones I wanted to choose for myself.

The road stretches on before us, with all of its uncertainty. Neither of us knows what lies ahead, or how the road conditions might change but my prayer is that we continue traveling together and ride into eternity, hand-in-hand.


Sunshine on a Winter Day

I am so grateful that the sun still shines in winter.

Thankful for these warming rays brightly streaming,

Through my window, mercifully sent by my dear Father!

Warmth to comfort my body, lift my spirit; to liven my soul;

Lifting all thoughts to joy, allowing them to float on the waters,

Of sickness and sorrow; thereby abating my sadness and suffering;

Snugly wrapping me in loving security; and embrace me in His presence;

It is brutal! Outside it’s cold! A threat to my existence but here in my window

I sit, enjoying the heat of summer; kept safe from vile enemies that long to take

Me down to smother me in agony; in hopes of crushing my spirit, destroying my body!

But my soul, my enemy can’t touch, it belongs to the One who limits my enemy’s strength;

Daddy! He cherishes, protects His child; Surrounding me with bright sunshine on a winter day!

Warming Joy on a Cold December Day

Ice-laden wind howls on this colorless December day;

Thickening clouds, chasing warmth and light far away;

Clouds weighted with dread; dense, dark, lifeless gray;

This old woman’s dreams drift backward to yesterday,

When winter didn’t make her old bones ache ‘till May;

Snow-storms once a welcomed challenge, time to play!

In sparkling drifts; all bare branches, an icy lace display!

Silent, long walks without a thought of this elderly day…

As winter turns contentious now; threat to keep at bay!

I maintain joy despite winter contention, I kneel to pray.

I’m trusting my God to keep me warm, this blustery day.

There’s no threat over which my God doesn’t hold sway!

Though I’m old now, in Jesus, I still dream of a future day.

Of my transformation, my glorified youth forever to stay!

More than a dream, it’s an eternal promise, it won’t fray!

Warm hope is joy for old woman on a cold December day!






No Joy Found on the Garden Path

No one wants to be a fool but foolishness lives in every heart. It crouches and waits in the corners of the mind watching for an opportunity to pounce. We never outgrow it and it is in those times when we are tired, lonely, in pain, or in any way weakened in spirit, that sin beckons us down the proverbial “Garden Path” to personal disaster. Though the promises are pleasant there is no joy, at any age, found on the garden path of sin.


A Stroll on the Garden Path

Weary but much too restless for a nap…

I went a strolling down the garden path…

Headed aimlessly by careless choosing…

Never considering myself a silly sap…

My life was carefree, everything a laugh!

Sure I was a winner, I was really loosing…

Wandering in garden path’s fateful trap…

Meandering my time, didn’t do the math…

Walking a daydream, wakeful snoozing…

Didn’t care, didn’t wear thinking cap!

God watched but I didn’t do my half;

Into disaster, for-a-bruising- cruising!

Heart unguarded, sin began to tap…

Life now charted on a downhill graph!

Begin to stagger as someone boozing!


End of wooing garden path’s soothing;

Sorrowful exiting chosen garden path…


There’s no sap like an old sap! I thought that by the time I reached my current age, I’d have it all together. I dreamed I’d be wise, gentle, kind and no longer prone to follow the foolishness of my heart. I thought the “Garden Path” would no longer lure me astray through wrong-headed desire. The reality is that we never outgrow the propensity toward sin and I need Jesus at 59, just as badly as I needed Him, when I met Him, at 19. I am still learning, growing, and sometimes, stumbling. Jesus is still helping me up, brushing me off, and setting me back on the Way. Wisdom doesn’t come with age; it comes by grace, when we refuse the beckoning of the heart and follow Jesus. Knowledge is power and wisdom is God’s power applied when we heed His small still voice inside. Love is His graceful action to rescue us when we fail, no matter how young or old we are. How thankful I am for Jesus, the author and the keeper of my joy!


Destination: Consummate Joy!

I’m gliding through the desert on a silver-grey ribbon, rapidly rolling toward my future. Not sure of the number of miles left to be traveled, I fix my eyes on that point on the horizon where the road appears to end. I crank up the volume on tunes from my past and lose myself in remembrances of the good and the bad of those far away years. All those things I’ve left behind but live on in me, forming who I am now. I meet my focal point on the horizon and the future passes through me, slips my grasp, and melds into the present, eternal moment. I fix my eyes on the next horizon and keep moving forward. My bad hip aches from sitting too long and my head is beginning to hurt. I’m hungry, sleepy, and weary of travel but I can’t let my physical frailty detour me from reaching my destination. I’m finally going home after many long years of exile in a foreign land. Even though I built a good life in my second country, I’m anxious to return to that place that I remember only as a feeling of complete safety and joy. In an attempt to ignore and over-ride my physical complaints, I open my mind to the scenery and my thoughts lift and are carried away by the desert’s beautiful display of early autumn color. It’s been an unusually, wet year and the desert is rejoicing in celebration. Waves of tall, cured grasses undulate across the desert floor, as the Rabbit Brush, Broom Weed, and Wild Asters dazzle my eyes, all decked-out in their very best attire.

My desert day-dream comes to an abrupt end when a gust of strong wind side-swipes my car and I find myself suddenly, in the wrong lane. I quickly, respond and as I correct my path, I notice that dark clouds have formed and a storm is directly, ahead. Startled and fearful, my thoughts turn upward and I pray for safety and guidance; “Lord, get me through this, keep me safe, I’m nearly home! Please, don’t abandon me now…” Large, cold drops begin to splatter on my windshield, faster and faster until they form a blinding rain. I turn up the speed on my wipers, hunker over the wheel, determined not to give up when I’m so near to arrival but I’m still not sure exactly, how much further I must go. The storm intensifies and common sense takes over, as I decide to pull over and wait out the storm. I grab my favorite sweater from the back seat and wrap it tight around me. Road weariness takes over and as the storm rages, I drift off to sleep.

A Messenger from my dreams jostles me awake, as the first rays of sun began to rise. Such a beautiful sunrise! Unlike any I’ve ever seen, blesses my eyes with radiant blushes of bright yellow and rose. As the sky fills with an ephemeral light, I catch my breath in amazement in response to a landscape beyond anything I could ever imagine. Immediately, I notice that I have absolutely, no pain or hunger. I look down at my hands and somehow, they’ve been restored with smooth, youthful skin! I pull down the visor and look in the mirror and am astonished when I realize my complete transformation from aging woman to youthful vigor! How can this be…then I see Him; my dearest and best friend, the One who went home ahead of me to prepare my own special place. Without Him, there would be no home-coming for me; I would have died in exile but He gave His life for me and by His blood, purchased a room for me in Heaven. My heart fills with rapture when I fully realize that I’ve reached the end of my long journey and finally, I’m home! Jesus is near now and our eyes meet and lock in a loving gaze. I open the car door and run to meet those outstretched arms and He enfolds me in an embrace that I can only describe as consummate joy!

Joy For All Seasons

Each day I unwrap as a gift given for a special reason;

Receive, open, admire, use; then I carelessly toss,

Expecting the generosity of a tomorrow like today;

Not noticing day’s life altering pass into new season,

Green to gold to red to brown to grey; life’s eventual loss

Days like leaves falling; debris piling raked cleared away,

Gather to mulch vegetable gardens; new life’s treason

Warmed by elder used days; tiny seedlings nestling moss

Nurtured beneath sleeping branches; await first spring day;

Receive, unwrap, celebrate, future days far over horizon,

No thought for those before who suffered day’s loss;

Sacrifice of life in death to gain new life! I kneel to pray:

My days be not raked cleared and burned in death season!

Instead gathered in sacrifice; like Your life-giving cross!

I wait until new life rises; Jesus honor my remaining day!

Redeem careless days, by Love-giving-joy beyond reason!








True Beauty and Joyful Aging

Agnes stared absent-mindedly into the mirror, brushing her hair as she had thousands of times before when suddenly, she caught her own eye and gasped a sad, surrendering, soft sigh. Laying the brush aside, she pulled closer to the mirror in an effort to really see herself. How could that woman in the mirror, who looked a lot like her mother, really be Agnes? She cringed at thinking the cliché “How could so much time have passed so quickly?” She’d always rolled her eyes when ‘old folks’ said such things and now, she was saying it too… She looked a little closer at the roots that were beginning to show, wondering what color her hair really was by now. It was surreal and unnerving, this disconnect between her mirror image and the way she imagined herself. She reached for her makeup and through the art of smudging, shadowing, coloring, and camouflaging Agnes hoped to create a face she better recognized. All the while, she remembered those days when makeup was about accentuating her beauty rather than an attempt to cover reality and create an illusion. Then she stopped and took another hard look in the mirror. Did all the cover-up really help? Sadly, she had to accept that her efforts resembled a mask and she felt a tug of truth pull at her heart. Trying to maintain a youthful image was prideful, vain, and all the effort she spent trying to keep looking young was wasted time. There is no joy in chasing after the wind and it was time for Agnes to accept her true self.

Agnes reached for her cold-cream and a tissue. Wiping the mask away, she opened her mind and took a deeper look at this stranger, her true face. The face of Agnes, a living work of art, expressed her history in lines etched by life’s cares and happiness. She held the edge of her hand to the root-line of her hair and noticed how the natural grey framed and softened her mature face. This unique face was beautiful in a way that no young, doll-like face could ever be. Agnes sighed a soft, joyful sigh of self-acceptance and remembered a truism from decades past about “growing old gracefully” and wrapped herself in a hug. Every grey hair, every wrinkle was earned and from now on, she’d wear that grey hair like a crown! No longer cringing at her lines and wrinkles she saw them as they truly were, evidence of her inner beauty; the kind of beauty that lasts and grows better with age. Agnes vowed to spend all of time she’d been spending chasing after the wind of youth, on drawing closer to God and increasing the beauty within. Joy and contentment filled her heart and with new hope, she faced a future of growing old but also, growing better.

Agnes picked up her brush again, caught her hair in a backward swoop, and pinned it lightly back. Grey wisps framed an honest, clean face and sparkling, blue eyes. She reached for her makeup again but this time to accentuate and not mask. She patted on a little powder to soften and blur the tone, touched a hint of color on her lips, and added a final splash of her favorite perfume. Perfect! Done! Then one last look in the mirror; Agnes viewed herself with new appreciation for the woman the Lord had helped her to become. The world might not agree that aging can be beautiful but when Agnes saw herself as Jesus saw her, she saw the truth; that aging is not a process of decay but of becoming more like Jesus. He is the Way to joyful aging and true inner beauty that never dims or fades away.

When Old Woman Fades to Joyful Glory!

Numbered days fleeting, slipping her grasp…

Molten gold-laden and fading into glory;

Silver voice diminished but remaining in aged rasp…

Labored sad-singing, her one ending-story;

Broken memories lost, drifting in time-lapse…

Old dreams dimmed in head turned grey and hoary;

Death agony caused by misfiring synapse…

Pain messengers released, intensify longing for glory!

Old woman’s secrets locked away with a hasp…

Open! The beginning then the end of her story;

Faith with sure hope secured, doesn’t lapse…

When Old Woman fades to joyful glory!