Books, Reviews, Short Stories, Authors, Publicity, a little poetry, music to complement...and other stuff including politics, about life... "Books, Cats: Life is Sweet..."
Would you believe--because I can hardly believe what is happening here at Book Readers Heaven--that I was wondering how to begin this "beginning" of the thrust of this particular book and this video popped up as soon as I opened YouTube... I had already listened to the recorded one this morning as I ate breakfast. (Actually, in my opinion, as I saw the female lawyer secretly smiling, I decided that she had done it on purpose! What a payback for a woman to use the opportunity to do what she did! Of course, that is my own opinion, of courst)
Actually I was going out to another specific video...but I'll add that later...
Here is the issue I want to bring up as the whole sex issue! During my own lifetime, I have watched movies and television movies getting more and more open with overt sexuality. Worse, I have been even more horrified that the violence has even more greatly increased... In fact, for me, who is a forensics kind of interested individual, I decided that Criminal Minds was just beyond what I wanted to "agree" to watch...
So, where am I going with this?
As you know, maybe, from earlier posts, I had originally conceived of a personal memoir when I chose that title. However, during the last few years, I have been, frankly appalled as to what has been happening in America...
Take for instance, the fact that, even though we voted the last president out of Office, HE HAS REFUSED TO LEAVE AND HAS DISRUPTED AMERICA EVEN MORE!
But, as I continued to read more relevant books, it is clear that Donald Trump is just a major pain in the problem situation in which America now must live...
Let me give you a specific example! I'd like you to think about the fact that during the pre-election of 2116, somehow Trump received more television access than Clinton. I won't say I've researched that, but it just seemed to me to be the case. After all, I readily admit that, until I heard the infamous tape, well...
Ok, I need to give a little background for me first. I had never had the time, nor, really, the interest to get more involved in politics. In fact, I had not registered to vote after I moved to my present home, until I heard that this man was running for president! Just as I continue to be, I was livid! And, even until I found the tape below, I couldn't understand why Bush got fired...while Trump...got...nothing...
I had begun my career in the Personnel Office at West Virginia University, I naturally became interested in laws affecting employment. In fact, I chose to begin reading the reports from the Bureau of National Affairs which came to my boss, by then, the Director of Personnel. I would highlight the ones that related to issues that I thought he should ensure he read.
Later I became involved with both the National Secretaries Association (active at that time) as well as two on campus groups: The Staff Council and the Council for Women's Concerns. I was elected to the former and appointed to the latter. Needless to say I am quite willing to be known as somebody who has been working on activities related to things such as Equal Employment Opportunity, Affirmative Action, Equal Pay for Equal Work, Sexual Harassment Issues. In other words, all things related to providing support to working men and women.
I had at least heard of Billy Bush, but not Trump (I am not a fan of any type of reality show). So why was Bush fired? But not Trump?
I'm sure many of you will already understand where I am going... but, hey, it's my time to share, so, I hope I can make your time interesting...
I started watching CNN for most of my tv time. I quickly saw that I had been right. Trump was not a good man. And certainly was not qualified, in my opinion, to be president! Remember, if you will, that I worked for 37 years on a land-grant university campus--all in administration in various offices. In addition to two administrative offices--Personnel and Facilities Management--I also worked directly as personal secretary to the Provost for Instruction, second in command to the President. And the Provost for Instruction. Responsible for all academic and other programs on campus. Because of the duties and responsibilities assigned, I had extensive knowledge of what was handled in every part of this institution.
I consider this experience, although not as broad as nation-wide, was state-wide and very similar to what happens at the national level. I'll be writing more on specifics as I move forward...My highest level of working there was as Acting Director of Facilities Planning and Management. I was responsible for reporting to the federal government as required, and to the State Board of Regents for WV Educational institutions.
In fact, one of my responsibilities was lease management as we often leased to, or leased from, other agencies, as needed. Also, as Acting Director, I was responsible for the multi-million dollar capital budget and all financial matters related to new buildings, land management and repairs and alterations.... That is why I knew that Donald Trump, no matter how much he was known as a real estate "tycoon" would have absolutely no ability to deal with the wider program planning and development of the federal government!
But of course, that did not stop what happened...
And, in my mind, more importantly, that did not account for the surprise support of the evangelical christians...
I wanted to know WHY!
And I've been working off and on, through 4 different surgeries and physical therapy, to determine the answer to that question!
Now, I find, quite unexpectedly, but, thankfully, that God is Helping me do just that. I believe He wants all of us to speak out about what has been and is continuing to happen. And, for me, He is guiding me to the books (with help from many writers who are writing) that can provide little or large clues by which I will conduct my investigation of an avid amateur mystery fan... LOL
That's on another page, but we have begun... If any of you are Prayer Warriors, which I'm not, I'm one who wants to get moving--as you may have noticed... I would be thankful for your involvement in this or other ways. But, all of you have to admit, this is serious... I believe Joe Biden... Our Souls - The Soul of the Nation is at stake.
You know folks, sometimes God has got to send ZAPS when he has sent you messages that you know were His directions...yet didn't do them...
First, confession time as to how this happened... See the first part of the title? I wrote it weeks ago, thinking what I would talk about with...another...book... That book, however, was laid aside, I admit... Yes it was the right author, but practically the first thing he wrote about was...setting times for prayer... Well, if any of you are like me, I normally pray on the fly, on the run... and don't take the time to spend with...Him... Guess, I'll be going back to that book soon...
Anyway, as I continued reading The Political Seduction of the Church yesterday evening, I began to actually feel queasy... to the point that I had to stop reading and go on to other things. I was finding things that I didn't know about...things that Trump "did" which supported the evangelical's known "deal." There are many more changes than many of us have heard about... But I was feeling queasy because they were all about ensuring christianity were...politically in control(?) I have to admit, for the first 70 years of my life, I wouldn't have thought anything about that...
That was before I started studying, learning about what the constitution of the United States actually means...And that, is, that there were more than Christians in the United States...and they, too, were covered under OUR constitution...
Just what role, I began to wonder, does God have in America?!!!
Well, back to my striving to "do" God's work without spending time with Him... I believe in God Incidents that I've shared...And they were praiseworthy...but I really wasn't taking the time to praise God for bringing them into my life...and know exactly for what reason?!
Soooo, I got zapped this morning by Cam Rascoe's book, Ironies, Enjoy the Joy... Given the message, I know that he won't mind my sharing it, since we seem to be two of a kind in wanting to rush out and...act... but, I had to face it, it was truly the God ZAP I needed!
Enjoy the Joy
The other day I was sitting at the foot of my bed
looking up into our aquarium,
enjoying the fish swimming to and fro.
Watching them offered me a calming sense of relaxation
as I started my day.
Then, I was overcome with a much greater feeling,
euphoria.
Joy filled my heart
as a smile of satisfaction covered my face.
Tears began to stream down my cheeks
as I quietly thanked God for filling me with such elation.
Humans foolishly ingest harmful substances
or engage in sinful behavior in the attempt
to find that special feeling of joy that God offers us freely.
The Holy Spirit warmed me that morning,
long before the rising of the sun.
Unfortunately for me, I didn’t take the time
to truly enjoy the joy. I felt good, so I wanted to be productive.
I thought about the errands I needed to run,
chores I needed to do and bills I needed to pay.
I thanked God for providing me with the resources
and means to accomplish all that I set out to do that day.
When I finished my short prayer
I still felt good, grateful and motivated.
But there was something missing,
that euphoric feeling had left me.
I searched for it in my heart and mind
but it had escaped me and I couldn’t draw back on it.
But before I could mourn losing that special feeling,
understanding of my plight dawned on me.
The next time that I am filled with the spirit,
I will stop and embrace it.
Instead of busying my mind
with things of this world,
I will take the time to enjoy the joy.
Be still, I will,
listening and feeling it all until it has moved from me.
Understand now I do,
to embrace and hold on to those special moments
when I access that loving elation.
The joy is to be enjoyed;
so when it fills you
be free in it and allow it to run its course.
ENJOY THE JOY
Be Still and Know That I am God
hangs on my wall, opposite of my picture of Jesus Laughing
(also appears in right column on my blog)
How foolish He must see us, or maybe not,
for He knows us better than we know ourselves
Lord, I pray, help me to slow down and allow YOU
to know what to read, hear, and say as I strive to
know what YOU think about America
and the future...
Amen
(Did this song overwhelm you as it did me?)
I'd never heard it before...
But, Now I know...
God will leave America back into the Light!
Let us pray, listen, and speak!
And, Lord, please...let me speak what YOU want me to say...
When you strip me of everything: my ability to play the violin, my health, my love of writing.... When you get to the essence of who I am, I just wonder if I’ll be good enough to spend eternity wherever God is.--Elisa
The Feather Boomerang...
My mom used to tell me that if I found a white feather it meant an angel was around, looking out for me. I didn’t believe her, even if it was a neat idea. As the days have passed, I’ve sure wished an angel could be here, with me as I fight cancer...
I lifted my violin from its case. “I’m gonna play some oldies. That’s what I heard you like.” I snapped my shoulder rest into place and tightened my bow. “Mrs. Beck,” I said, because I’m super direct, “you keep calling me kid, but you said I’m older than you expected.” “Anyone under fifty is a kid to me. And they keep bringing preteens over to see me—like they’re doing a good deed or something. Why are you here anyway, Elisa? Why did you come?”
I thought for a minute. “I guess I just want to make you forget whatever it is you’re going through, even if it’s just for a minute. Focus on something else and enjoy.” I set my violin on my shoulder. “So, I have a favor to ask you. Set down your cigarette and close your eyes.” She kinda snort-laughed, set her ciggy down, then snuggled into that huge white pillow before closing her eyes. “Now, as I play, I want you to picture a story.” And I started. First, I played the beginning of “Bridge Over Troubled Water” by Simon and Garfunkel. The music started out quiet—a trickle of spring rain. I sang the song’s words in my head as I played, causing a whirlwind of emotion to burst from my violin. And Mrs. Beck must’ve felt it because little tears seeped from the sides of her eyes. She glowed, so utterly beautiful, like an elderly Snow White or something’ with her sheared, dyed-black hair and leathery face. But instead of lying there, waiting for the kiss of her prince, she was dying. Waiting for the kiss of God. Tears heated my eyes too, and I told myself to quit being such a freakin’ pansy. I shut my lids. Instead of letting my emotion escape through the weakness in my eyes, I pushed that pain into my arms, my hands, my fingertips. And I played that violin, like a flippin’ lover. It cried in my arms, wailing over the melodies and having so much power it reacted to the sheer feeling flooding my body. I knew Mrs. Beck and her daughter could feel the sorrow buried deep in my soul—my sorrow for them. That violin was a magnifying glass, exemplifying exactly why I was there, who I was, and that I wanted to offer at least some semblance of tranquility. Then my bow grew with deep friction and strength, and I transitioned into notes and melodies that just came to me. My fingers and violin took over. That’s the funny thing about me and my fiddle; I think I have control, then that thing takes over like an addiction. I have the road map, but my fiddle has the details that always take me there—a good friend, leading me home. The song swelled, over and over. At one point, a gust of wind rode in through the open window on a high note. Right after that, my fingers and bow slowed to a stop. The notes descended to my D-string, and the weight of the music left my body. The song was over.
I held my violin at my side, that extension of self, then faced the window and closed my eyes. I didn’t want Mrs. Beck or her daughter to see me cry. I even prayed the wind would come again, and God would dry my tears. The Becks were sad enough. They didn’t need to see some kid—over thirty—crying because she “felt bad.” “Elisa,” Mrs. Beck rasped. She beckoned me to the side of her bed. I wiped my eyes, then obeyed. She reached out her wrinkled hand, with that soft, paper-thin skin, and grabbed my fingers. “That, Elisa, that was beautiful.”
“What did you see,” I asked, “when you closed your eyes?”
“Something from when I was a kid. Something I thought I forgot. My mom, dad, and I were walking in a field.” She took a very deep breath. “I miss them. They were good parents.” I had to twitch my nose just to keep from bawling even more. After all, she’d probably be reuniting with a lot of people soon. I put my violin away, then hugged Mrs. Beck and her daughter. “It was nice meeting both of you,” I said. I left the house and never saw either of them again.
Even before Elisa had learned of her diagnosis of cancer and her subsequent writing of her latest book, Two More Years, she had been providing support for those in need, in one way or another. In the right column of my blog, scroll down to do a search for Stilson's books already reviewed... Search on EC Stilson.
This latest book, however, was a true God Incident for me... Elisa calls them breadcrumbs. Immediately, you know, like Gretel left breadcrumbs so they could find their way home, I pictured breadcrumbs being dropped from Heaven to show Elisa the way home, some day... Frankly, her book oozes with dreams or encounters in which Elisa was involved that, to me, resulted in Zap!, Zap!, Zap! and more Zaps... It seemed everything she has been dealing with during the period after which she was diagnosed with State 4, Melanoma, she has been surrounded by God or his angels, human and heavenly! Of course, for those of us who have been connected for a while with her, we recognize just how she draws people out just by being...Elisa! And even though she had gone through many trials, including the loss of Zeke, her son, she, was, for the most part, wondering whether she was still...worthy... of even spending eternity with God...
During this last book, her best, in my opinion, she has many of her earlier experiences brought to mind, as she is dealing with her pain, or the latest test, or scan of her body. One is described so realistically, that I felt myself pulling in my own body in empathetic screams of fear of what was being done...
You see, no matter what is the truth, Elisa has decided to share as much as she can so that others may be at least prepared for what they might one day have to deal with, with cancer... And, to remind us that, if Elisa can do it, so can we...But it takes God's help to walk in her slippers... Because, it is clear that God is using this Girl God Incident, to speak to me...and to, possibly, millions of people across the world... I consider this a Must-Read, not just because of learning about the reality of melanoma, but for all of the other issues, beyond medically involved, that readers will find while meandering along with Elisa as she writes about this or that...or more on that... The book is divided into chapters; however, the narrative many times feels like an insert into a journal, a diary... The openness, the intimacy of her inner thoughts are revealed in such a way that, by the end of this and other books, we may feel like we know her! And indeed, she shares about at least one individual who came up to her and cried out, "Elisa," as if she was a long-lost friend... who Elisa could not remember... Only to discover that the individual and she had indeed never met... THAT'S how Elisa becomes to each of us who reads her words--her desires, her fears, her joys, her love, her...everything... It's laid bare because SHE is part of a plan that God has for her...and readers are privy to her wanderings and wonderings as she follows where He leads...
I was lost at the picnic. Droves of people weaved past, making me feel minuscule—insignificant. Then I saw her. The woman wore short brownish-auburn hair, a checkered apron, and the cutest smile ever. She parted the crowd easier than Moses parted the Red Sea, and I giggled when I spotted her! My grandma—that tricky possum—ran toward me and clutched my hand. “You don’t need to be scared of them,” she said, motioning to the crowd, “or of the future. It’s all been figured out.”
And as soon as I saw her, I wasn’t scared at all because, well, I wasn’t quite so lost anymore. My grandma died over a decade ago, and we had so much to catch up on. I wanted to tell her all about my kids and our lives. Relay to her how hard it’s been being sick, hurting so much, and watching everyone else worry and cry. I wanted to tell her that the thought of an early death is daunting because I don’t feel like it’s time to go.
As if she heard my quietest thoughts, she peered into my eyes with so much love, and whispered, “Now, you’re gonna come here much earlier than you’d want to. But don’t be scared, Elisa. I get to be the one to show you around and help you get used to things. That’s why I’m here, to tell you I’m waiting. Don’t be scared. I’m here waiting to help you.” I glanced at her apron again—something she’d always worn during her life—and with that vision slowly fading, I woke up.
Now many might think that the dream was just a work of the subconscious mind, trying to deal with what might happen in the future... But, did you ever hear about getting a confirmation? Well, Elisa tells about receiving a package of goodies from one of her relatives...and in it, surprisingly perhaps, was an apron... Me, I call that a true God Incident... Signed, Sealed and Delivered! Cool, right?!
But there is much to ponder and consider as your life takes a unplanned for path...
“I’m scared. I’m so dehydrated and sick. I feel feverish. If things don’t get better fast, I’ll need to go to the ER.” Mike brought me some food and a drink. I tried to eat slowly, but despite anti nausea medications, my stomach already churned. “Mike,” I said, “can you please pray for me?” Mike doesn’t pray. But he did then—and it meant the world to me.
After falling asleep, I rested in the fetal position in God’s massive hand. I couldn’t see anything other than His hand and the sky which He lifted me into. And even though I didn’t have a blanket, it felt so warm and perfect. This strange energy flowed through every bit of me, simply filling me with resilience. Even in the dream, a strange thought came to me: that someday I’d be in remission. This sounds crazy because all the doctors have said I have an incurable mutation of melanoma. Even if radiation and the new immunotherapy do work, they will only extend my life, not save it. Yet, there was this feeling... and an unimaginably beautiful dream. That morning, I woke up stunned that I’d kept the food down. I sat at the kitchen table with Grandma Dee, who was visiting from Missouri, and Trey. I couldn’t shake the feeling of lying in God’s strong hand. “Look,” Trey said, pointing out the back window. Dee and I turned to see a huge hawk, perched on a branch about fifteen feet away, just staring at us. After it flew away, I tried drinking more water. Amazingly, it stayed down. I’m trying not to get my hopes up, but that dream and its premonition have buoyed me through radiation this week. What do I have to lose anyway?
Worth case, I’ll be let down; best case, I’ll see a miracle. Regardless of what happens, I’m thankful to have a renewed faith in the future.
*** “Grandma,” I said to my Grandma Stilson when I was in elementary school, “I keep going to church to get saved over and over.” My grandma was a different religion than me, and she didn’t fully understand what I tried to convey. “Wasn’t once enough?” she asked.
“Maybe,” I said. “But maybe not. I might just be bad, and that’s why God is doing this to me. When I close my eyes, I can’t make the words stop. I keep seeing stories in my head. I pray that God will save me and stop the words. He’s punishing me for when I’ve been bad. That’s why He’s making me see the words.”
She laughed so hard before trying to clarify. “Seeing the words?” “On a keyboard,” I said. “Someone’s typing them.” It was always the same. I’d see these crazy hands typing more and more. A stupid red mug—with swirly paint— sat by the keys which never stopped clicking.
“Maybe it’s you,” Grandma Stilson said. “Maybe you’re meant to be a writer.” It was my turn to laugh. “No. God is doing this ‘cause I’m bad.” Then something hit me. “If I am meant to be a writer, there’s just one thing I’ll need.” “What’s that?” “Someone who’s really good. I’ll need that person to teach me.”
My grandma died a little while after that. She’s the only grandma I’d known. Whenever I wanted to give up on anything, she would be there, wearing her beloved checkered apron, and cheering me on. After she passed, sometimes I found it hard to keep believing in myself as a writer. I think that’s why my grandma had to send me an angel.
Many years passed after my grandma’s death. I picked up writing again and even hired an editor to perfect my fantasy novel. But after I sent her the payment in full, the editor pulled out of the project. “Unfortunately, the payment was over a $1,000 worth of dresses I sewed for her daughter,” I told a friend on the phone. “Reselling them would be a nightmare. It’s just such a specific size. Plus, her daughter looks so happy in the pictures. So, I just let the lady keep them. I guess they’re going through some hard times.”
“Oh, wow.” “Yeah, but what am I supposed to do now? There’s no way I can pay someone else.” After a small pause, the woman said with a hint of excitement, “I’ll help you!” At the time I had no idea who this woman really was... (but she became soooo important!)
One of the intriguing things about Elisa is that she acknowledges a strong belief in God...but is still searching, even within the time period of the book, into different religions, since she was still not sure about Jesus...
Can't say that I blame her...Elisa, and many other young people are being turned away from Christianity in today's world. Many consider those who claim to be Christians to be hypocritical or, worse, extremely fanatic and domineering. In another book, and which is also mentioned in her latest, is the story of when Elisa first left home...after being put through what they called an exorcism by her church. Why? Because she had had sex. Today, we see things even worse, as we hear of, for example, of a ten-year-old girl in Ohio being raped through incest, and who, was forced to go out of state to get an abortion due to the ridiculously extreme laws that are being implemented by the republican party...
It appears to me that it is not God guiding these actions--rather it was a desire to regain power over women's bodies after having had women gain free access and attention to a comprehensive medical review related to all aspects of women's reproduction concerns which should always be something discussed between the female and the doctor! Just like that--for many those rights have gone!
Rape and Incest are, literally, rampant, at the same time that there is little if any, guidance given for teens related to sexual activity by the church. Can you imagine, after, perhaps, agreeing to sex, or having a date rape drug given to you, or, even, an incest act forced on a child by a relative, that a church would choose to have an exorcism...or, without regard to the female, be forced to have a child who has gone through date-rape or incest-rape. [Note that Elisa did become pregnant, but made her own decision to carry the child...] Hypocritical? Yes, of course! For it is men of all ages and relationships who have initiated that forced intimacy... or, just as bad, made teens of both sexes, to feel so much guilt that they were afraid of parental or religious condemnation. So fearful, that they act either to escape--to run away--or to hurt themselves thinking they have no options in any given situation.
I have to add, because both are so entwined these days... At the same time, consider the irony of this being called by Christians, Pro-Life... While NOT being willing to ban assault rifles to stop the murder of children of all ages, as they live, go to school, to church, shopping... No way around it...the logic of the republican party and the Supreme Court related to PRO-LIFE IS NON-EXISTENT! No wonder we are ALL confused with what is going on in America...
Except in placing power within hands where it does not belong!
It is quite easy to see how Elisa has grown to be leery about anything she might do or want to do. For, like many, she has not been able to find support from where it should be freely given. Based upon those early years, we see Elisa moving from depression into joy often... The key point is that, she has self-taught herself that she, by now, even as she fears for her life, can and should consider just exactly what she must do related to each situation. And, most of all, she has come to know and accept as her primary determinant, that she will do what is best for those she loves most--her husband, her children...
Yet, when she learns that her tumors are spreading, or they are
growing larger, she, just like the rest of us, becomes so scared, even to the point that the pain of the tests themselves, makes her hesitate. Can she continue to put herself through the torturous processes through which she must go to allow a certain part of her body be approached--without damaging another part....
And, each time, readers see her weighing
Face Cage worn during radiation
options, seeking help or support, even to writing to monks in South America, for prayer... and, once again, allowing herself to go through the pain with the thought of ensuring her family be together for however much longer is possible!
Elisa somewhere took a test to know her greatest strength. It came out Positivity. She was disappointed! While I, nearly twice her age, was thinking that is the best strength anybody could have! To be able, even when feeling depressed or sad, to somehow find your way out of the darkness...and back into the light! Many of us find it hard to move back into the light... But then again, we also don't have a desire to...go through an airport playing her fiddle!
Or when we are in the hospital, seek out others who may need whatever we can give...
When things had totally quieted down and the door shut, the third woman spoke. I leaned forward, grasping onto every word, but she was so terribly hard to understand. “You asked,” she lisped, “what I’ve learned. I haven’t really learned, but it’s been confirmed that life isn’t fair.”
“You got that right!” She continued to explain that the cancer started in her tongue, and she had to have some of it removed. I blinked back the heat in my eyes because I suddenly knew why she’d been so scared to talk in front of the others. “They’re doing radiation on my neck now.” She spoke slowly. “The cancer... has spread.” “I can’t imagine what you’ve been through. I thought I’d been on one helluva journey!”
“But you don’t look like there’s anything even wrong with you!” A male tech came and called my name. At that point I struggled to stand, and my back had been pulled so badly that I hunched over and tried to walk straight. The woman gasped, surprised at how I walked. “Talking with you was the best part of my day,” I said. “I’m Elisa.” “Sarah,” she said, placing her hand on her chest.
The gong resounded. Another person had finished infusions. Dozens of people clapped despite the IVs in their arms, and I was sure most of us smiled under our masks. But I wondered if anyone else felt the same way I did. I might never get to hit the gong. I might never be done with stupid infusions. I might never... get... better. I wanted to pick up the mallet and go hit it hundreds of times just to say I have. But I’m not a two-year-old, so I didn’t. I also kept myself from saying any of this out loud. My mother-in-law sat beside me as medicine dripped directly into my veins. And we really were having having the best time playing cards, visiting, and laughing. I didn’t need to mar that with a sob story. A woman near us spoke to a nurse, her words drifting through the partition that separated us.
“He’s awfully sad. He needs to do this.” My ears perked with interest. Who was sad? Who needed to do what? Then, a man’s voice began singing songs from my childhood—spiritual songs that are hard to forget. And as he quietly sang “How Great Thou Art,”
I wanted to sing with him, this faceless man who sat in another cubicle, and the desire mounted stronger than almost anything in the world. But it seemed embarrassing to sing in front of my mother-in-law and more than fifty other people in the room. Sure, they couldn’t see my face, but they would hear me. “I’ll be right back,” my mother-in-law said as if discerning my thoughts, and when she walked away the man started singing one of my favorite songs in the whole world. “Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God Almighty.”
I held my mouth shut. I’m not even religious anymore. I go to church, and I love God with all my heart, but I don’t believe most of the things they teach. And yet, I could not control myself. I breathed deeply. I didn’t need to sing with this poor man. Why was the desire overpowering? “Holy,” my voice joined his. “Holy.” The harmony floated atop his deep baritone—matching perfectly in thirds. He must’ve heard me because his voice swelled with strength. He’d been shaky and scared at one point, but now his song grew strong and majestic.
“Almighty God,” the words just flowed. And as we got louder everyone in the room quieted and simply listened to a moment that will always resonate within my soul. We sang several verses and as much as it had grown, it finally came to a quiet, beautiful close.
When we finished, a woman whispered, “Did you... did you... hear that voice singing with you?” “You heard it too?” the man asked, dumbfounded. And even though we’re not supposed to bother other patients, I grabbed my IV stand, stood from my chair, and peeked over my cubicle. “It was me,” I said, almost giggling.
A stunning girl of about twenty stared at me with the widest eyes. Her dark skin glowed, and she beamed under her mask. “That was amazing you started singing too. I can’t believe you knew the words.” “Thanks for letting me join in. Hang in there, you two. This isn’t easy.” And although I couldn’t see the man from my angle, I sat down as my mother-in-law returned to the room.
“I sang with him!” I gushed. “It was awesome!” My mother-in-law laughed. She’s the sweetest woman, so full of love even though I’m the most random person ever. The singer and his guest must’ve left soon after because a couple of the nurses came over to me and said, “That man was so sad and scared. His daughter said singing always makes him feel better. And what you both did. Well, that is one of the neatest things we’ve had happen in the infusion room.”
“I couldn’t help myself. But next time, you guys need to join in!” “I really wanted to, but I didn’t know the words. And then I realized, nobody wants to hear me sing,” one of the nurses said, laughing. “Oh, but I do! So, get ready for it. I’ll be back in three weeks. While all of you are singing, I get to play the gong!” I could just see myself going crazy with the gong while everyone sang. It’s probably my favorite memory so far from this crappy cancer business: the time I got to sing with a perfect stranger who found some unexpected strength right there in the infusion unit. I still can’t believe they momentarily thought I was a real, live angel!
She got a mischievous grin. “Well, I’m not the one who painted it, but I know who did. And those notes on there... well, they might actually be a real song. Maybe you should try playing it.” So, that afternoon Mike and I pulled out my violin and asked the kids if they could video us as I tried deciphering the notes from the rock. Mike had to hold it on his lap, since it’s so heavy. But he said he’d rotate it slowly as I finished each section. Indy began recording as Trey sat and watched. The notes came out tranquilly tranquilly at first. I had no idea what the song might be until we reached the third measure. After that, the melody swelled inside of my chest, and the meaning behind the words shot through my heart and my fingers. I could hardly believe what song the artist had chosen: “You Raise Me Up.” The words empowered me as my bows skillfully danced across the strings. I thought of standing strong and braving stormy seas. My violin rose to new registers as I willed myself to “be more” and totally trust in God’s will...
Everyone wants to die well, valiantly, in a way that will make our loved ones proud. I didn’t want to be a sniveling person begging to end the pain or crying out for more life. At the Yom Kippur meeting, they talked about forgiving ourselves and others, about releasing ourselves from vows we’d felt forced to make, or vows we made but could no longer keep. I remembered my New Year’s resolution for 2020. “I vow to become as refined as possible,” I’d said quietly to myself. More than a year of hell later, refinement didn’t sound quite as romantic. That’s a vow I’d like to forget.
When I returned to the synagogue for the second Yom Kippur meeting the next day, I had no idea what to expect, but I knew one thing: It was time to let go of refinement and unattainable goals of perfection.
“God,” I prayed during one of the songs, “I get it now. We were never made to be perfect. I might as well be chasing rainbows, trying to reach my self-imposed goals. Can you please just love me, always, as I am? I make more mistakes than anyone I know, but I love you with everything. Please be with me in life and when I die too. I feel ridiculous asking for you to heal me, but please have your will in my life.”
About this time, I felt thoughts and words coming into my mind... God Incident Walking Through Me Now, selecting music and more...
I exhaled, feeling oddly lighter than I had in years. And when I opened my eyes, a strange light shone through the synagogue windows. “Kadosh. Kadosh. Kadosh. The whole world is filled with your glory.” The music seemed more ancient than time, forged by generations of people who unflinchingly revere God.
Given the power of the music and the place itself, maybe it shouldn’t be surprising that when I looked down, something surreal unfolded: The sun shot through the glowing stained glass and highlighted specific words on the program I held. I read the accentuated words. “We are filled with your strength. The strength to bear our afflictions. Add your strength to ours, oh God. So that when death casts its shadow we shall yet be able to say: ‘Oh Source of Blessing. You are with us in death as in life.’
Those words. I can’t tell you the power of the words “in death as in life.” I knew then God would never abandon me.
A powerful musician stood in front of the congregation and blew the shofar horn with such beautiful resonance that it stunned me. The blast lasted much longer than I’d expected, then went up a fifth and continued until it vibrated me to the core. I cried right there, my program still illuminated as I shook, my burdens lifted, and my heart full. Before the “break the fast” celebration, I managed to catch a couple of pictures of my program before the lighting changed too much. The whole world really is filled with His glory.
Dear Friend, My Elisa,
How are you? I just had to send a note to tell you how much I care about you.
I saw you yesterday as you were talking with your friends. I waited all day hoping you would want to talk with me too. I gave you a sunset to close your day and a cool breeze to rest you--and I waited. You never came. It hurt me--but I still love you because I am your friend.
I saw you sleeping last night and longed to touch your brow so I spilled moonlight upon your face. Again I waited, wanting to rush down so we could talk. I have so many gifts for you. You awoke and rushed off to other things. My tears were in the rain.
If you would only listen to me! I love you! I try to tell you in blue skies and in the quiet green grass! I try to whisper it in leaves on the trees and breathe it in colors of flowers, shout it to you in mountain streams, give the birds love songs to sing. And brought other, stronger, birds outside your window, to tell I'm here to protect you. I clothe you with warm sunshine and perfume the air with nature scents. My love for you is deeper than the ocean and bigger than the biggest need in your heart!
Ask me! Talk with me! Please don't forget me...You knew me long before that false prophet came into your life, who used my name to exorcise something that was not my will for him to do... I still love you and have so much to share with you! Wipe those memories from your mind as I now speak to you alone... I need no other to speak for me, other than what I have placed in your heart--My Holy Spirit... My words will guide you each day if you will open your ears to hear my words... I do love you... I died for you... That ensures that you will be with Us Always...Yes, for Eternity...just as you long for...
I won't hassle you any further. It is YOUR decision. I have chosen you and I will wait-- I love you. I really am in no hurry... I am the Holy Trinity--God, the Father, Yeshua the Son. and I will give you His Spirit's gifts to dwell inside of you... Whenever you are ready... And you will never feel alone again. Or Wonder if You Will Abide in me Always... Because, I AM... And I Love You Elisa, Child of My Heart!
It's been a while since I've had such an overt God Incident as I began to write. First, I was planning to go in one direction, but as soon as I sat down, I heard the song, Abide With Me through the Holy Spirit. Then when I got to the YouTube site, my eyes were immediately drawn to the name of the above, second, video, Abide in God's Presence Always...
It just might mean that I...and perhaps you(?) needed to hear all of these words about God abiding in us...always... and I Give Thanks for that gentle nudge of comfort and security...
On the other hand, I was originally thinking of a man of God whose words I was reading late yesterday...
When you intervene,
you have to stand up and take the consequences.
FROM THE TIME I was little I had a picture in my head of the sort of man I wanted to become, a picture filled in by my mom and dad, by the teachings of the Catholic schools I attended, by stories I heard about our family hero, Uncle Bosie, a pilot who was shot down in World War II, and by a faith in the size of my own future. During my adolescent and college years, men and women were changing the country—Martin Luther King Jr.,
John F. Kennedy, Robert Kennedy—and I was swept up in their eloquence, their conviction, the sheer size of their improbable dreams. I knew I wanted to be a part of the change. I didn’t know how. I had no plan, but I knew. And as it turned out, surprising political opportunities opened up for me when I was a young man. When they did, I was not shy about pursuing them, because I already had a picture of what I had to do—how I had to conduct myself—to take advantage of them...
“People don’t know who or what to believe in—and, most of all, they are afraid to believe in politicians,” I told the crowd at the Hotel du Pont in Wilmington when I announced my candidacy for the Senate in 1972. We must have public officials who will stand up and tell the people exactly what they think…. Our failure in recent years has not been the failure of the people to meet the challenges placed before them, but rather the failure of both our great political parties to place those challenges honestly and courageously before the people, and to trust the willingness of the people to do the things that really need to be done…. We all know—or at least we are told continually—that we are a divided people. And we know there’s a degree of truth in it. We have too often allowed our differences to prevail among us. We have too often allowed ambitious men to play off those differences for political gain. We have too often retreated behind our differences when no one really tried to lead us beyond them.
But all our differences hardly measure up to the values we all hold in common…. I am running for the Senate because…I want to make the system work again, and I am convinced that is what all Americans really want. I believed that in 1972; I still believe it today. Our nation’s founders framed a political system of uncommon genius, and generation after generation of Americans has used that system to make the country more fair, more just, more welcoming, more committed to individual rights. The United States has the finest and fairest system of governing the world has ever known.
There is nothing inherently wrong with the system; it’s up to each of us to do our part to make it work. It’s been my privilege to serve that purpose. I’ve been a United States senator from Delaware more than half my life. And after almost thirty-five years I’m more passionate about the job and more committed to what I’m doing than I’ve been in my entire career. Any day of the week you can read or hear about the lamentable state of our nation’s politics, about our bitter and partisan party divisions, about the regrettable coarseness of the discourse. I don’t deny it, but from inside the arena none of it feels irreversible or fatal. We can always do better. I believe that, or I wouldn’t still be in politics. In fact, I sense a greater opportunity today than any time in my career. Maybe it’s because after all these years, people actually listen to me...
It felt like a sacred place when I got there, and I’ve never lost that feeling. Thirty-five years later I still get goose bumps when I come out of Union Station and see the Capitol dome. I started at the bottom, dead last in seniority, with an office so small that people on my staff had to get up and stand sideways just so somebody could open the front door. At the time I had no intention of serving more than six months. But I lasted long enough to serve, at different times, as chairman of the Judiciary and Foreign Relations committees. Things have changed in my six terms, for better and for worse. I served with the last of the southern segregationists, but I was there to see Carol Moseley Braun and Barack Obama sworn in. There was not a single woman in the Senate in 1973. Today there are sixteen, and one of them has a real shot at the presidency.
In committee rooms, conference rooms, the cloakroom, and on the floor of the Senate itself, I’ve witnessed the decline of common decency and a growing unwillingness of colleagues to try to see the world through another’s eyes. I’ve seen a rise in partisanship and the rising power of money in both campaigns and governance. But I’ve also seen a thousand small kindnesses from one side of the aisle to the other and hundreds of acts of personal and political courage. The rules and traditions of the Senate have a way of asking the best of the men and women who serve. Back in the early days of my first term, when the courts ordered President Richard Nixon to turn over the Watergate tapes, the government appeared headed toward a constitutional crisis. The president asked Senator John Stennis to run interference for him, to listen to the tapes, summarize them for his colleagues, but keep them away from the full Senate. Stennis demurred. He would not run interference for the executive branch; the tapes should be available to all.
John Stennis acted on principle to uphold the Constitution. I remember what he said in the Democratic caucus that day: “I’ve thought long and hard on what my obligation is. I’ve decided what I’m honor bound to do…and I’ve decided I am a Senate man. I am not the president’s man. Therefore, I will not listen to the tapes. I am a man of the Senate.” I’m proud to say I am a Senate man, too. The job plays to my strengths and to my deepest beliefs. I serve the citizens of Delaware, but I also serve the Constitution and the nation. George Washington called the Senate a “cooling” institution, conceived to operate outside the political expediencies of the moment. The nation’s founding documents impel United States senators to take the long view in both national and international affairs; to offer on every issue what wisdom and intelligence we bring collectively and individually; to protect the minority from destructive passions of the majority; and to keep an eye fixed on any president who reaches beyond the limits of his or her power. The Senate was designed to play this independent and moderating role, and it is a solemn duty and responsibility that transcends the partisan disputes of any day or any decade.
AS A UNITED STATES senator I’ve watched (and played some small part in) history: the Vietnam War, Watergate, the Iran hostage crisis, the Bork nomination, the fall of the Berlin wall, the reunification of Germany, the disintegration of the Soviet Union, 9/11, two wars in Iraq, a presidential impeachment, a presidential resignation, and a presidential election decided by the Supreme Court. I have been in war zones across the world and have seen genocide up close. I have sat face-to-face for hard talk with Kosygin, Khadafy, Helmut Schmidt, Sadat, Mubarak, and Milosevic. I’ve seen Nixon, Ford, Carter, Reagan, Clinton, and two Bushes wrestle with the presidency. I ran my own race for president and had to pick up the pieces after the train wreck…then nearly died from a cranial aneurysm. In the aftermath I had to remake my health, my reputation, and my career in the Senate. The years since then have been my most rewarding. I count my role in helping to end genocide in the Balkans and in securing the passage of the Violence Against Women Act as my proudest moments in public life. If I had accomplished nothing else (and if I accomplish nothing more), for me those two efforts redeem every second of difficulty and doubt in my long career.
I’ve learned plenty about myself over the years, but I believe I’ve learned even more important lessons about the American people—about their point of particular pride. Just after I won my first election to the Senate in 1972, I used to say I had great faith in the American people—and I really meant it. I wasn’t just saying it in speeches; it was pillow talk with my wife. I was so proud of the race we ran in 1972; it was honest, straightforward, and clean. I really believed I had lived up to my grandpop’s admonitions. The Biden for Senate campaign meant to preserve the integrity of politics, and I felt that we’d been vindicated for that effort. I’d talk about it with my wife, Neilia, in our big new house: “I do, Neilia. I really do. I have great faith in the American people.” Neilia was always more clear-eyed than I am. “Joey,” she said, “I wonder how you would have felt if you lost?”
Full disclosure: I do not have absolute faith in the judgment and wisdom of the American people. We’re all human, and we can all be misled. When leaders don’t level with citizens, we can’t expect them to make good judgments. But I do have absolute faith in the heart of the American people. The greatest resource in this country is the grit, the resolve, the courage, the basic decency, and the stubborn pride of its citizens. I know thousands of ordinary Americans, faced with burdens that would break many of us, who get up every single day and put one foot in front of the other and make it work. Most do it without demanding special favors or pity, even while the more fortunate among us stand willing to help ease those burdens. I’m convinced of the generosity, determination, and capabilities of our fellow Americans. I’ve seen it over and over, but it came home to me dramatically in the hours after the attacks on the World Trade Center and the Pentagon on September 11, 2001. The planes hit while I was on the train from Wilmington to Washington, and when I came out of Union Station that morning, I could see a haze of smoke rising from the Pentagon across the Potomac.
It was a morning of surreal stillness. There was almost no breeze. It was so quiet, I could hear myself breathe as I walked toward the Capitol dome. I was struck by the warm glow of sun on my face and the sharpness of the cobalt blue sky, which was strangely unmarred by air traffic. But beneath the calm there was a gathering feeling of panic on the ground in Washington.
The Capitol building had already been evacuated. Senators, House members, and their staffs were milling around the park between the Capitol and Union Station. Some were talking on cell phones. Some were already arguing about the need for funding Reagan’s Star Wars missile defense system. The Capitol police refused to let anybody back into the building, but they were offering briefings for a select group of elected officials at a command post on the top floor of a four-story building behind the Senate offices. Most members were camping out on the floor below. So I was shuttling back and forth between floors, trying to persuade anyone who would listen that we should get back in session and show the American people we were taking care of business. Nobody would budge; leaders in both parties were being told they should be prepared to leave town. Congressman Bob Brady, who had also been pushing our colleagues to get back in session, finally gave up in disgust. He thought he might be able to do some good back in his home district in Philadelphia, and he offered to drop me in Wilmington on the way. On the way out, Brady and I could sense the panic rising as we walked through scores of reporters outside the building; they were understandably anxious to get some word of what was happening.
“Senator Biden,” a reporter from ABC said to me, “senators I’ve spoken to and members of Congress as well have said we are now at war. Senator Shelby, who is the ranking member on the intelligence committee, has said we are now essentially at war. We have to be on a war footing. And Senator Chuck Hagel says we have to start securing our borders, locking down our airports, revisiting the way we protect our public institutions. What about that?”
“I hope that’s not true,” I told her and her listening audience. I would say it another way. I would say we’ve come face-to-face with a reality. A reality we knew existed and we knew was possible. A reality that has happened to varying degrees in other countries. But if in fact, in order to respond to that reality, we have to alter our civil liberties, change the way we function, then we have truly lost the war…. The way to conduct the war is to demonstrate that your civil liberties, your civil rights, your ability to be free and walk and move around in fact are not fundamentally altered…. There are a lot of things we can do though to diminish significantly the possibility of this happening again without changing our character as a nation…. This nation is too big, too strong, too united, too much a power in terms of our cohesion and our values to let this break us apart. And it won’t happen. It won’t happen.
By then the Senate and House leadership had been convinced to board helicopters for a flight to a secure location in West Virginia. The vice president had been spirited away to an undisclosed hideaway. The president was flying from safe spot to safe spot on Air Force One; he’d been convinced it was too dangerous to come back to D.C. The Twin Towers had collapsed by the time we got on the road toward Wilmington, and the death estimates in New York were five, six, seven thousand—maybe more.
But when I got home and put on the television, I saw that the American heart was still beating strong. Doctors and nurses were standing by at hospitals in New York City, ready to treat the wounded. Snaking through the streets and up the avenues were long lines of New Yorkers waiting to give their blood, even though word was being passed that no more blood was needed. I could see it in their faces: They were hungry to do something, anything. Nobody was talking about war footings or payback. They just wanted to do their part. That was the day that reminded me that even in a moment of almost total silence from their leaders in Washington, Americans would rise to the occasion. Watching those people on the blood lines, I was convinced the country would get up off the mat, face the new challenge head-on, and emerge stronger for having done it.
To me this is the first principle of life, the foundational principle, and a lesson you can’t learn at the feet of any wise man: Get up! The art of living is simply getting up after you’ve been knocked down. It’s a lesson taught by example and learned in the doing...
As I opened the ebook of Promises to Keep, I realized that, once again, I was being led to go to this book when I needed to read words of encouragement about things happening in America these days...
Yesterday, listening to another hearing describing the January 6 Insurrection, was illuminating... I heard and saw the actions of those who were intent on using and spreading lies in order to gain or retain power--the power of a political position which could be used to help America...or to gain personal power. It was obvious as we learned about the "unhinged" meeting that we have two distinct groups of people in relation to all that is detrimentally happening now... Those that will do anything or say anything in order to gain personal prestige and recognition from an individual in power... And those who actually believed in that individual in power.
It's the latter group that was truly heartbreaking to listen to and consider...
I watched as two men spoke about their involvement. The first was a past member of a known militia group who participated in the Insurrection. He spoke about the leader working to increase his own exposure and power...
The second man spoke of his believing the president as he lied about election fraud, stating that he went to the Capitol because his president told him to, but once he got there he began to question what was going on...and finally left when the then president told them to leave. He told of being charged, losing his job and how his life had been turned upside down. I couldn't help but notice how his wife would often lift her lip as in derision or contempt... Perhaps she felt that the committee--or somebody--should have stopped Trump from his actions, before it was too late...? We may never know just how many lives have been affected detrimentally by the former president...
And, for many, things are still occurring that are initiated by the far-right republican party members... They have seen how "easy" it is to dupe some Americans and so they keep on trying to lie and steal our lives in one way or another...That is the real theft happening daily!
For me, for instance, it is hard to get excited about the supposed changes related to guns...while, at the same time, it was being negotiated, there were more children and adults murdered by assault guns in particular. It is hard to get excited about some small measure of change, while at the same time, the very real danger is still happening daily! Both related to guns and personal women's health and other types of freedoms once gained but now being targeted!
11-year-old rape victim couldn't have abortion under new Ohio law
It's hard, I know, trying to watch, look, and listen...striving to determine the facts, the truth... But, like Joe Biden said at one time, Get up! Allow yourself to doubt, to face the idea that you can be wrong...and it's alright to be wrong...as long as you then look for the truth... Let's work on that idea...together! O.K.?
