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Take a Deep Breath

Apr22

I’m sitting in my room in my house in Orlando with the door to my back porch open and a slight breeze blowing in on this 72º late spring morning. I know it won’t last, so I need to enjoy the cool while I can.

And while I can, in the stillness, I take a deep breath.

This year, while it started out on a sweet note with the birth of a new nephew, quickly went downhill when we lost my mother-in-law on March 4, and my sister-in-law on March 12. To say we were stunned would be a massive understatement. And as both sets of ashes sit on a shelf above my living room window, all I can do is shake my head in disbelief.

The reality of being the only one left of his family of origin hit my husband hard. As we age, we begin preparing ourselves for the death of a parent, but losing your only sibling, especially one just 2 years older than you, well, there’s no preparing yourself for that. No “they’re in a better place,” “they’re happier now,” or “you’ll see them again in glory” can fill the gaping hole.

Glenna Reeves (12/16/62-3/12/2026) and Pam Reeves (5/8/1943 – 3/4/2026)

I wrote both their obituaries for the funeral home. As I wrote my sister-in-law’s I had to stop, wipe away the tears and think, “I should not be writing her obituary. It’s wrong that I’m writing her obituary.”

And it’s true. Death isn’t just a part of the circle of life. It was never meant to be. Genesis 3 tells us of the fall of man and God’s judgment that “for dust you are and to dust you will return.”

Just a couple of weeks after the joint memorial service, we celebrated Easter. Resurrection. New life. Everlasting life. That’s what’s meant to be. Not pain. Not suffering. And certainly not death.

So I take a deep breath.

This is a momentary affliction for our family. It’s hard. It’s sad. It means we are the ones who need to be there for our nephews who lost their mom—even though they are adults and one has a family of his own.

And what does this have to do with Earth Day? It means there is still beauty. There is still life. There is still hope.

I lift up my eyes to the hills.
From where does my help come?
My help comes from the Lord,
who made heaven and earth.
(Psalm 121:1-2, ESV)

Mt. Rainier, Washington. August 2025.

Quick to Listen

Jun2

This post is part of the Five Minute Friday link up. We write for just 5 minutes on a one-word prompt and see what happens. Today’s prompt is “quick.”

 My dear brothers and sisters, take note of this: Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry, because human anger does not produce the righteousness that God desires
(James 1:19-20, NIV).

We all want to be heard. That’s a very common and universal human trait. But sometimes, putting words out there can be scary. There are many times when I will type out a comment on someone’s post online and then backspace, backspace, backspace. I just know that what I said will cause someone to say something in return that is unkind.

I don’t need that kind of negativity. Better that I leave my thoughts unsaid online.

When Jesus’ brother James wrote his letter to the scattered tribes, he wrote to them about their behavior. He wrote about not just hearing the word, but doing it.

He wrote about being humble.

Photo by Tomas Anunziata on Pexels.com

I am often guilty of not being an active listener—listening carefully, asking questions, not just waiting for my chance to give my opinion. That’s not humility. That’s thinking that what I have to say is more important.

It’s like when I’m driving down a road with a double yellow line and someone decides to pass me going way over the speed limit.

They certainly weren’t caring about me or anyone else on the road. They were self-important and just wanted to get where they were going more quickly.

I am determined to not be that kind of driver in conversations, just running over people’s words to get where I want the conversation to go.

Quick to listen. Slow to speak.

It Was the Best of Times, It Was the Worst of Times

May19

This post is part of the Five-Minute Friday link up. We write for just 5 minutes on a 1-word prompt and see what happens. Today’s prompt is “chapter.”

With a nod to Charles Dickens for the use of his classic first line of A Tale of Two Cities, so far, almost halfway through, 2023 has shaped up to be … pretty much like every other year. There have been some pretty low lows, but some blessings mixed in. Overall, it’s been plain to see that God is good. He always has been, and He always will be.

Our last couple of months have encapsulated that. We’ve experienced severe disappointment, but we’ve also laughed, built relationships, and seen beauty. We’ve gotten to enjoy time with our grandson, who is growing way too quickly, and walked with our daughter through an unexpected breakup. We celebrated our 32nd anniversary in the mountains of North Carolina and attended the memorial service of a friend taken by cancer, leaving her 3 daughters orphans. We witnessed our eldest son earn his brown belt in taekwondo and said goodbye to dear friends who moved thousands of miles away.

It’s like two tracks on a railroad. Joy and sadness are side by side, and when you look at them in the horizon, they appear to touch.

We’re moving on to the next chapter in this sometimes frustrating, always interesting, not-yet-finished book of our lives that God is writing. We don’t know what the next chapter will bring. We’re just turning page after page, trusting that the author—who really is a master storyteller—will not let us down.

The good thing about this kind of book, unlike some long-standing series where eventually the author really has to move on, is that we get to spend eternity with the Author getting to know Him and the characters in our story even better.

The Best-Laid Plans

Jan14

This post is a part of the Five Minute Friday link up. We write for just 5 minutes on a one-word prompt and see what happens. No heavy editing allowed. Today’s prompt is “determine.”

It’s been a disappointing week. I had in-person things lined up several days: a dinner meeting, coffee with a friend, our monthly MOPS (mothers of preschoolers) meeting where I’m a mentor mom, and dinner with two long-time friends that I haven’t seen in years.

And then my husband got Covid. *sigh* We didn’t know until yesterday (Thursday) that it was for sure Covid. It was a mild case and he thought it was just seasonal allergies until he got a low-grade fever. So, while we waited for results (rapid tests are very hard to come by around here), we had to isolate.

I had to take a long look at what my priorities were. The beginning of the year is usually a time when people set goals, make resolutions, etc., but rather than go big, I needed to decide whether or not I was going to be OK with my fun week all of a sudden being ripped apart.

I haven’t been OK with it.

But yesterday as we waited, the Lord and I had a long talk. I haven’t done much in the past two years. Fun outside of my house has been hard to find. But I didn’t want to be that person who just went about their business knowing I very well might have been exposed to the virus.

So I had to determine in my heart to accept the losses with grace. My dinner meeting was held virtually, coffee with my friend can be rescheduled, MOPS met without me and didn’t fall apart, my friends are still my friends even though we can’t be together.

Disappointing, yes, but not the end of the world. I am determined to find the beauty alongside the losses. God is still good.

I’m also determined to not let this virus take over my life. I’m vaxxed but not boosted yet, careful but not obsessively so, concerned but not frightened. I want to be respectful of other people’s opinions and choices and hope they are respectful of mine.

So now I wait to see if I start showing symptoms. Every little sniffle, every clearing of my throat from drainage that *could be* allergies and the sinus issues that come with Florida’s flakey winter weather, start me praying and hoping that my immune system will do its job.

I’m supposed to go on a retreat with several friends in 6 days. I am cautiously hopeful that will happen.

What the Pandemic Could Teach Us

Jan8

This post is part of the 5-Minute Friday link up. We write for just 5 minutes on a one-word prompt and see what happens. No heavy editing allowed. Today’s prompt is “important.”

As we enter our third year of the global pandemic, there are some important things that I have learned:

(not necessarily in order of importance)

I’m turning into more of an introvert than I’ve been before, though I still like being with people.

Some issues should stay opinions rather than become canon.

I treasure my family (I always knew that, but it’s good to have it reinforced)

Just because the government says something doesn’t make it true.

Just because a doctor posts something on the internet doesn’t make it true.

Opinions are not something you should lose relationships over. And you should keep an open mind.

Not all science or “studies” are equal.

Going out and being around others shouldn’t be taken for granted.

Respect for others should be job 1.

It’s not worth losing friendships over. (I already said that, I notice, so I must think it’s pretty important.)

These were all just random thoughts that flowed to my mind as I typed. And in the remaining minute I have, I want to say that I have watched two really good friends have some pretty significant differences of opinion in the last two years, and they have probably lost a little in their relationship. But they still love each other and treat each other respectfully. And they both love Jesus with all their heart. And they love their family.

They just don’t always see eye to eye and that needs to be OK.