When Christmas Happens in Your Home

"Lord," I prayed, "please let us see two children receive Christ tomorrow." We were in Galloway again for the Christmas store. By far, my favorite time to come. They were doing things a little differently this year. Each person who came in to shop at the Christmas store was given a gift for themselves with a personal sharing of the Gospel of Jesus Christ. Each person. All one hundred and fifty of them would hear the Gospel in a one on one environment. I had been asked to help with this part of the store, and I felt so blessed to be able to do that. As I was praying the night before for those who would hear the Gospel, I felt compelled in my heart to pray specifically for three children to be saved instead of two. "Three, Lord?" I responded, "Okay, please let us see three children come to You. And, Lord, could I have the privilege of leading one of those to You?" The last part of my prayer was selfish as it doesn't matter how one comes to Christ as long as they do, but I love the joy of seeing someone receive Christ in their heart, and how their whole countenance changes.

I love it.

"What's a worldless book, Mom?" Rylie asked me the next morning. She was watching me prepare my station for the day before the kiddos began to arrive. "Sit down and I'll show you," I told her. Kade was in the room with me too, and I needed to practice anyway.  I told him I would show him also. I went through each page of the worldless book with the kids as they watched. They had never seen one before. After I was finished I looked at Rylie and said, "Have you ever accepted Jesus as your Savior?" She, of course said, "Yes." Then I looked at Kade, who so many times has heard the Gospel, but not been ready to receive it. I said, "Have you ever accepted Jesus as your Savior?" He, of course, said, "No". "Would you like to receive Christ?" I asked. And he said, "Yes". I was almost blown away. The kid who has said, "No" to the Gospel so many times, had just said, "Yes!"  I told Rylie to go get her daddy. I had been praying for over a year that Dan wouldn't be at work when Kade was saved. I was so grateful he had been able to get the day off. He came in the room, and I asked Kade again if he wanted to ask Jesus in his heart. He said, "Yes" again, and I began to cry. I couldn't stop it. We had been praying for Kade for a couple of years that his heart would be ready for the Gospel. And here he was, with both of us, ready to pray. We bowed our heads, and I helped him pray. When he looked up he was fighting tears. I told him it was ok to cry. His daddy told him that his heart should be happy now. A big smile spread across his face! He was so happy, because that is what Jesus does in our hearts.

As the children began coming into the witnessing room, Kade wanted to help me witness to them. Because when God gets in your heart, you can't help but tell someone else. He would sit with me and tell them that Jesus was the real reason for Christmas. In fact, if they already knew the reason for Christmas, he would get a little put out. Then as I explained the Gospel, he would turn the evangelism cube for me to show them the pictures. And every time he would say to me, Mom, tell them what I did today, tell them that I got saved. He's a shy kid, but he wanted them to know.

I knew the Lord wanted me to pray for three kids to get saved. At the end of the day and seventy-seven kids later, (seventy-three moms had come the day before) we had had two that had prayed to receive Christ - Kade and eleven year old Tao. "Only two Lord," I prayed, "why only two?" I had really felt like I needed to pray for three." One child had been saved the day before, so I rationalized it out that that was the third child I had been led to pray for. I felt like I needed to give God an out, you know, a way to answer my prayer since it didn't seem to happen. I love helping God with His reputation.

It was time to go home, and still only two children of the day had accepted Christ. We got in the car and headed through thunderstorms and ice on our way home. I wresteled with the unanswered prayer all the way home "Three, Lord, three, what happened to the three?"

We got home, unloaded our stuff, and sat down to relax and watch a Christmas movie. The movie was a little longer than I wanted thte kids to stay up, so I stopped it halfway through. I thought about skipping our Advent story, but I decided not to. We read our Advent about how God uses unexpected people and places to do extraordinary things, and then we got ready to pray. I told everyone that we had an extra special reason to be thankful today, and asked if they knew what it was. They said, "Kade becoming a Christian." That was it, of course, and we all congratulated him again.

Except Elijah. He sat on the couch with the oddest expression on his face. Something was wrong. Big alligator tears began to well up in his eyes and roll down his cheeks. I began to ask him questions, "Are you sad that Kade became a Christian? Are you happy that Kade became a Christian? Is something wrong? Are you sad that you are not a Christian?" There it was! He began to sob uncontrollably and nod his head. He was overwhelmed that he didn't have Jesus in his heart, and the fact that Kade now did made him realize that he did not. I always try to be careful with children because you can talk children into almost anything. I don't want to be the one talking a child into receiving Christ, I want it to be God doing the saving. I asked him if he wanted to ask Jesus in his heart and become a Christian. Through his sobs he said, "Yes," Then in pure anguish he cried, "I want to become a Christian, but I don't know how!" I began to cry also. It reminded me of a time so long ago when a jailer thought he was going to die and cried out to Paul and Silas with the words, "Sirs, what must I do to be saved?" The knowledge that you are in desperate need of Jesus, but you need someone to tell you how to come to Him can be heart wrenching.

I took him on my lap and told him daddy and I would help him. It was ten o clock at night, usually he's sleeping by now. But not this night. The day was not over. The third child of the day was about to have his name written in the Lamb's book of Life! He bowed his head and through his tears prayed as sincere a prayer as a four year old ever prayed. He simply believed in Jesus right there on our couch with his dad, Kade, and I close beside. When he looked up he still could not stop crying. It was a happy cry now though, and he was smiling through his tears.

The night before when I prayed for three children to be saved, I had no idea that two of those would be mine. I am overwhelmed with gratefulness.

Still.

Christmas over two thousand years ago - when God came to earth as a tiny baby in a manger to give us the opportunity to be saved from our sin.

Christmas 2016 - when the reality of what He did came alive in our home.

Our home was very happy as we went to bed that night. I didn't know how I would even go to sleep. I don't think there could be a better Christmas than this one.

*My takeaway from this story - this something that happened in "my everyday life" is that there are so many people in our world crying out with the same anguished cry as Elijah and the jailor from Acts - "I want to be saved, but I don't know how!"

We have the answer. We need to tell others. We need to support those who are doing the telling. We need to be available. We need to be on mission. We need to pray.

Sometimes God answers those prayers in ways you would never expect.

Jesus Loves the Children

"Mom," Rylie said as she looked up at me from where she was sitting on the ground, " I'm going to miss them."  "I know, Honey," I replied, "They have a way of getting into your heart, don't they?" She nodded in agreement.

 I did know. I have been coming here for over seventeen years, and the children that live here have a way of embedding themselves in your heart. You leave thinking you have to come back and see them again, check on them, make sure that their lives are going ok, make sure they've heard about Jesus. 

Some of the kids were the ones we saw at Christmas time. The sweet shyness of the Christmas store has turned into summer fun and smiles. They've matured, gotten taller, changed a little. 

They're here at the mission for summer camp. They've come almost every day for the past four and a half weeks. They play together, hear Bible stories, do crafts, memorize Scripture, and sing praises.

Oh, the singing!

I've never heard anything like it. Not from children anyway. These mostly unchurched kids from broken homes who know about drugs, alcohol, and sex long before they ever should, sing from somewhere deep inside their hearts to Jesus. With volume and passion they sing

And it's beautiful. 

I know heaven must sit still when they are singing, because I can't move.

And God smiles. 

I'm sure of it. Because these same kids that get in our hearts after a few days, so that we can't forget them, are that much more in the heart of the King of Kings! The empathy we feel as we spend time with them is nothing compared to the love and care God feels for these precious ones! He cares about them so much He had sent His people to take care of them!

God hasn't forgotten them. They are embedded in His heart.

The call has been answered - through a Christian school, through summer camp, through birthday celebrations, (Karen and the girls make sure not one birthday is forgotten, even if it's forgotten at home), through the Christmas store, through much needed food, through hugs, through listening ears, through the mission building that provides needs, through the Gospel message that gets taught year round.

Through five missionaries that help make it all happen because they have a heart like Christ's.

These missionaries living here sometimes don't see it like those of us who come and go. Change is more obvious when you're not in the middle of the everyday.

But change has happened.

The teens that have volunteered to work at summer camp this year don't fight and argue like they used to. They're helpful and kind and work hard. You see, they've been coming to summer camp since they were babies and hearing about a Jesus who changes lives every year. You can't hear that message summer after summer without it changing you.

The streets are better. The crime is less. If you had seen the project housing seventeen years ago, you wouldn't recognize it today because it's so much nicer. Where there used to be multiple policemen, there is now one. There's not trash everywhere. Neighbors are helping neighbors. Kids are graduating from high school. More people are working. Between twenty-five and forty women come every week to a Bible study at the school. They're not comfortable enough to come to church, but they come here and learn about a God who can change their family. Kids I knew seventeen years ago, who got saved through this mission are grown up and are wonderful parents to their own children.

Change. It's happening.

It's happening because of the faithfulness of five people answering a call to obey and serve Christ.

Faithfulness.

But what about us? What about me? We're not all called to drop our life and pour our everything into a community.

But we're all called to serve.

Service to our families, service to our neighborhoods, service to our churches, service to our communities, service in helping those who are giving everything.

Service with a heart that's beating with the very beat of the Gospel of Jesus.

Because that's where change comes from.

The Gospel is the hope of people everywhere. That's it. We can bring hope; we can bring change; we can make a difference. I've seen it happen.

It's Jesus Christ, the hope of the world.

And what a privilege to be His servant!

Remember the children of Galloway, and pray for them. And the children in your home, the children in your neighborhood, the children in your city, the children in your country, and the children in your world.

May we never tire, may we never quit, may we never give up. Because there is always hope.

Gardening Hearts

"I want to plant a garden this year," Rylie said to me a few weeks ago. I grimaced a little. "Sweetie," I said as kindly as possible, "our yard is really not good for gardening." "But I really want to try," she insisted. "Well, you'll have to talk to your dad," I said, mainly because I stink at gardening.  I remembered the last time this came up. It's been about three years ago now when I wanted a garden. I talked Dan into putting one in for me. As he did it, he reminded me how I don't like gardening, or caring for plants, or weeding, or pretty much anything that has to do with gardening except eating. "I know," I told him, "but it will be different this time." That was the last time I had a garden.

I fully expected Dan to nip any gardening ideas in the bud. (pun intended) He hates gardening. And not only that, he doesn't like eating vegetables! Which makes gardening really pointless. But, Rylie trotted off with hope in her heart that this was going to be her year to be a gardener.

I had my "it's ok, we'll try something different" speech all ready for her big let down that the Van Pattens are not gardeners, when she came back in from talking with her dad with a smile on her face. "Dad says I can have my garden, Mom!" she said. "He did?" I asked. "But, he doesn't like gardening, and we all know I'm not going to help...." "But, dad said he's going to help me!" She replied excitedly. "This won't last long," I thought to myself.

The next thing I knew there was a garden being planted in my yard. Plants and dirt were bought, ground was tilled, seeds were put in, and everything was watered. Dan and Rylie spent many hours out there working on her garden. As I watched them out the window, I kept thinking about how much Dan does not like gardening. He makes it very clear every time a garden is brought up. But there he was out there bending over the dirt with his daughter building a garden. 

As I stood looking out the window, my heart was overwhelmed. I realized that the gardening was not about the garden at all.

It was about love.

It was about a dad that loves his daughter more than he loves himself. Here was a dad that had just spent a good bit of money and a lot of time doing something he hates because his 10 year old daughter wanted to try her hand at gardening. He knows the drill, he knows the odds. Chances are we'll eat one bean out of the entire garden, and buying that bean at Farmer's Market will in the end be a whole lot cheaper. But he gained something far more than vegetables.

He won her heart.

She knows she's valuable to him because what was important to her became important to him.

This is love in action, Dads. Dying to yourself and your interests for the interests of your kids. Spending time with them doing the things they want to learn even if you know how it's going to turn out. It's the best kind of parenting there is.

This is not the first time I've seen it.

Kade has an aircraft carrier designed by his dad, and made out of foam. We have model planes all over our house. (I've given up on decorating!) We have a swimming pool that gets put up and cared for every year by a dad who doesn't even use it. We go fishing, and the dad who actually likes to fish, spends most of his time baiting other people's hooks and untangling lines. This is the stuff my kids are going to remember. I'm sure that someday they'll appreciate that their dad provided for them and instructed them, but right now he's winning their hearts by being interested in what they are interested in.

Love in action.

Laying down your life for your children. It's the kind of dad I grew up with, the kind of dad my kids have, and the kind of dad I hope my sons will be someday.

I walked outside yesterday to look at Rylie's garden. There's little shoots everywhere. She proudly showed me what was coming up. The lettuce is almost ready to eat! You see, she's been faithfully taking care of her garden. She seems to actually like gardening. She would never have known that without her dad taking interest in her interest.

The garden is beautiful, and Rylie's proud smile is infectious, but me? What have I gotten out of this garden? I've fallen in love with my kid's dad all over again.

"Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends." John 15:13

Crushed by Depression

I named this blog "Every Day Life" because that's what it's about. It's about my life, my thoughts, and my family. I write because I need an outlet for what's going on in my head. My life is consumed by children and homeschooling, and, well, life, so sometimes I need a moment. A moment to put my thoughts down and figure out what exactly my life is about.

So here I am. I'm not really sure how to start this post, or exactly what to say. It's one of those things that I don't particularly want to write about, but I don't think God allows things in our lives unless we learn something from them, and can hopefully encourage someone else along the way. 

Besides that, I'm willing to lay myself bare if it can help you avoid where I've been.

It started about a year ago now. It came on so slowly that I didn't even recognize it. Just like a cancer that ever so subtly eats at a body, it began to eat at my soul.

I began to feel restless. I wanted to move, change jobs, try a new place.

I felt overwhelmed. I began to feel like a failure at everything. I was sure that I was a failure at homeschooling. We were having some problems with my son, and I began to doubt that I could even parent my own children

I've always been a busy person with a hand in many different projects at once. Suddenly I didn't feel like I was able to do the things that I always did before.

My brother moved away. My baby sister left for a year long mission trip. I got a kidney stone that gave me trouble for four months. My dad was diagnosed with cancer. My other baby sister got married.

I was an emotional train wreck.

The more time that passed, the worse it got. I started to doubt God, my salvation, and the Bible. When you began to doubt your Rock, your world looks bleak.

And I kept it all in my head. I didn't tell anyone what was going on.

As the year progressed, my emotions went further downhill. Over and over I would think of what a failure I was. I would look in the mirror or at pictures of myself, and think that I was so ugly. I wondered if that's what other people saw when they saw me too.

I began to cry every day. Every. Last. Day.

I made it to December, my favorite month of the year, and all I did was cry. I didn't want to talk to my husband about it because I was afraid he would think I was unhappy with my life. I wasn't. I just felt sad every day. I was sad that I wasn't making Christmas fun for my children, but I just couldn't. I was also embarrassed because I couldn't come up with a good reason for feeling the way I was feeling. My life was good, so why was I so sad?

And then I hit an all time low. It was mid December. In the middle of all the Christmas festivities,  I found myself curled up in a chair in my house, sick to my stomach with anxiety, and so many crazy thoughts swirling in my head that I couldn't face life. I had responsibilities that I had to bail on. I could not get out of that chair. I could not make myself leave my house.This was an emotional place I had never been before, nor do I ever want to be there again

I suddenly realized I hadn't cooked my family dinner in weeks. To this day, I'm still not sure what they ate during that time. My house was a wreck. I couldn't keep it clean. My life felt like a wreck, I thought maybe I was going crazy.

And then it happened - just a small thought inside my head that spoke loud: "It would be better to die than to live feeling like this."

Tears come to my eyes now as I think about that day. The battle is still fresh, and I'm still healing.

Something clicked inside of me at that moment, and I knew I needed to get help. This was something I couldn't beat on my own. I still wasn't sure what was going on. I hadn't wanted to admit something was wrong up to this point because I've always been a strong, happy woman. I didn't want anyone (including my family) to think I was anything but that.

But, there are some facts about this life that we have to admit -

FACT - Strong women sometimes struggle with depression

FACT - Strong women sometimes have hormonal imbalances

FACT - Strong women sometimes have nervous break downs

FACT - Strong women sometimes have emotional lows that can last a long time

It was time. It was time to get out of that chair, and admit to myself that something was wrong. I was lying on my bedroom floor sobbing, when Dan came in from taking the children for a walk. Normally I go along, but I couldn't get off the floor. He came into the bedroom where I was. I looked up at him and said through my tears, "I think something's wrong with me, and I need to get some help."

I'm pretty sure he knew this already.

I wanted to be strong. I wanted to overcome my problems with just me and Jesus. But may I be so bold as to say, "Sometimes just me and Jesus are not enough?!" I know it sounds a little radical, but when God created Adam he didn't say to him, "Adam, it's just you and Me, you'll never need anything else!" No, God said, "Adam, you need a friend, a helpmeet, another person." And then God gave Adam a beautiful gift, a human being named Eve. And then Adam was complete.

Ecclesiastes 4:9-13 says, "Two are better than one, Because they have a good reward for their labor.  For if they fall, one will lift up his companion. But woe to him who is alone when he falls, For he has no one to help him up.  Again, if two lie down together, they will keep warm; But how can one be warm alone? Though one may be overpowered by another, two can withstand him. And a threefold cord is not quickly broken."

I learned this lesson the hard way. I have a lot of people that care about me in my life. My parents and my sisters live down the street. I have beautiful, caring friends that have time to listen to me anytime I need them. I have a husband who loves me more than I deserve.

And you know what I did? I hid from them. I hid me from them. Jesus and I were going to deal with my emotional issues by ourselves. I didn't want to admit failure, so I hid. I hid at home. When I did go out, I put my best face on and managed to push through. I just didn't talk about what was really going on.

And it worked. My husband was the only one that knew something was wrong. When my mom found out I hadn't been cooking for weeks, she was appalled that I hadn't asked her for help. I didn't want her to know. 

But it was time. I realized I needed to talk to people. I texted a friend who I knew had been through a similar experience. I couldn't call her because I couldn't stop crying. She suggested I see a doctor. I did. I saw two. I talked to my mom and my sister because, frankly, I needed help. You know what? They were there for me. They helped me with my kids and my responsibilities. I shared with another friend the struggles I had been having. Turns out she'd been through this too. I wasn't alone.

Every time I let someone in, healing took place. It was incredible. When I hit that low back in December I thought maybe I would never be well again, but with each person I let in my broken, sad heart, a glimmer of hope emerged. And a little bit of healing took place.

Looking back, I can see God's hand on me through that whole year. He didn't forget about me, even when I doubted Him. There were friends that went out of their way to do random kind things for me, even though they didn't know anything was wrong. My husband changed jobs at work in the fall, and with his new schedule he started being home five days a week. God knew exactly when I would need him so much, and provided a way for him to be there for me and the kids. He has been invaluable to my healing.

I eliminated things from my schedule that were overwhelming to me. I started to say, "no" to people. (This is extremely hard for me.)  I prioritized the things that were essential to my life, and let the other things go. I watched funny shows with my husband in the evenings. I know there doesn't seem to be anything spiritual in that, but the Bible says, "A joyful heart is good like medicine." Laughter is definitely medicine to the heart. I started exercising and being in the sunshine whenever I could. It's amazing what a little sun will do! I snuggled with my kids and told them how much I loved them. I worked hard to stop crying all the time.

Most importantly, I admitted to myself that I had a problem and needed to proactively take steps to get better. The easy thing would have been to stay home and wallow in my depressing thoughts, but it wasn't the right thing.

Friend, if you are reading this, you're probably having one of three responses.

First - You're thinking, "Oh my! This is me. I know exactly what you're talking about."

Second -  You're remembering a time when you went through a time like this and it's bringing the emotions back with it.

Third - You're a happy person and think this could never be you.

I'm writing this because you are one of those three responses. I've always been number three. Until now, I couldn't understand depression because I had never experienced it. I couldn't understand why people couldn't pull themselves together. Why they wanted to live there. Truth is, no one wants to stay there, but you're not sure what to do about it.

If you are suffering from emotional issues, I want to encourage you to take steps, even small steps towards healing. First and foremost, tell someone. Tell more than one person. Tell people that genuinely care about you because they will take action and help you.

(If you are on the other side, and someone trusts you enough to tell you they are suffering, DO NOT FORGET ABOUT THEM! Go out of your way to make sure they are ok. Do random acts of kindness for them, pray for them, cook their family a meal, send them a card, call and check on them, invite them over, make sure they are getting help. You may be the one God is going to use to help heal them.)

Keep going to church and reading your Bible. This is hard when you don't feel like seeing people and God seems far away. But it is vital. Don't feel like you have to go to every service your church offers, but try to go to one. Come in late and leave early if you have to. Remember there is a spiritual battle going on also. When you're down is when Satan kicks you. He sees an easy target because you're vulnerable. Pray. If you can't pray for yourself, have someone pray for you.

Back off on your responsibilities. It's ok to say no. It's ok not to be superwoman. Focus on yourself and your family for awhile.

Read good books, watch funny shows, talk with friends who make you laugh. Laughing is vital to healing. Take naps, go for walks - lots of them, sit in the sun, eat good food, tell your spouse you need lots of hugs.

If you need to, see a doctor. See a counselor. Turns out I was suffering from low progesterone levels and depression. There is healing for both. A good progesterone cream and these other things I listed above have proved extremely beneficial for me.

I have friends that have needed an anti depressant, and it has helped. Don't feel like Jesus isn't enough if you have to take something to get better. If I ever have cancer, I'm going to pray my heart out, but I'm also going to get treatment. It's ok. Find the treatment that is right for you.

Don't do nothing. Don't get to the point where you think it is better to die than to live. I have friends that have ended their lives because they got to that point and didn't get help. God has given us each a beautiful life to live, and surrounded us with people to help us live it.

Healing is slow, I'm still there. But be patient. It will come.

My life verse is from Deuteronomy 30:19-20 -" I call heaven and earth to witness against you today, that I have set before you life and death, blessing and curse. Therefore choose life, that you and your offspring may live,  loving the Lord your God, obeying his voice and holding fast to him, for he is your life and length of days..."

Always choose life. Abundant life.


Love and hope to you all.

Age....It's a Beautiful Thing (Part 2)

"Grow old with grace." I've always heard those words, and pretty much thought it would be me. Growing old in wisdom and maturity and just general grace.

The opposite couldn't be more true. I'm fighting it tooth and nail. In fact, I'm not sure the word, "grace" has crossed my mind as I look into the mirror at my aging face. More often I think, "Who is that?!" The face in my mind is not the same face staring back at me through the mirror.

It has come on gradually, but this has been a rough year for me. It started back in the early spring when I went for my annual doctor's appointment. "You need a mammogram," the doctor said. "I need a what.?" I replied. "A mammogram," she repeated, "All women your age get one." "You must not know how old I am," I said. She looked down at my chart. "August 1978?' she asked. "Yes! That's me," I said, "See I don't need a mammogram." "When can you come in for your appointment?" she replied.

I decided to show up for my appointment just to humor my doctor, not because I really needed one. "All women my age get one," was the pep talk I gave myself as I checked in at the hospital. They gave me this nice robe, and told me to "robe up" and go sit in the waiting room. I wasn't sure about this whole robing up, and then sitting in the waiting room thing, but I followed the instructions anyway.

When I got to the waiting room, I kept my head down because who wants to look around at strangers when you're "robed up." I sat in the corner pretending to read a magazine and planning my escape route, IF I HAD MORE CLOTHES, that is.

I finally peeked up to see the other women "my age" in the waiting room. THERE WERE NONE. They were all 105, and perfectly comfortable being "robed up!" As soon as those sweet grandmas caught my eye, they wanted to chat. The last thing I wanted to do was sit around in a robe and chat.

I knew the doctor was lying to me. No one born in 1978 was in there for a mammo except ME.

After what seemed like forever, the mammo tech called my name. I nervously followed her to her room. She tried to reassure my fears with words of comfort about how "everyone does this." She got me set up on her torture chamber, er, I mean, mammo machine and told me to hold still. "Hold still??" I thought as I gasped for breath and tears rolled down my cheeks, "What in the world else am I going to do?"

My feet were the only smart things in that room -

They took off.

Of course my torso didn't follow. I'm pretty sure these machines are what they use to train Irish dancers - you know the ones that dance moving their feet a hundred miles an hour, but their top half remains perfectly still.

Yep, that was me. I was outta there, well half of me was anyway.

After my tech had had her good laugh, (i.e. she finished the exam) she finally released me. I thought maybe falling to the floor in the fetal position or running away were probably both unreasonable, immature responses to having a mammogram, so I just stood there.

"Go to the waiting room until we get your results," the tech told me. So back I went. In my robe. Everyone else around me was smiling, but I didn't really see much to be smiling about as I curled up in the corner and waited to hear from the doctor.

Finally the tech came back in. "I have bad news," she said. My heart sank. "We couldn't see anything on the pictures, we're going to have do some more tests."

My feet took off. And this time my torso followed.....

And then there's my eyes....

"Are these lights as bright as they used to be?" I asked Dan. "I don't know," he answered me, "I'm sure they haven't changed." "Hmmm," I thought to myself. "Strange thing is, everything seems a little fuzzier than it used to also - I wonder if I have a brain tumor??" I started to panic. "That must be it," I told myself, "I can barely read the print in my Bible anymore, and it seems to have come on so fast. It's the only reasonable explanation!"

The more I worried about it the blurrier my vision became. I decided right then and there to go see an eye doctor. A random eye doctor. Any eye doctor that would see me IMMEDIATELY in the likely case I was suffering from a brain tumor!

That poor eye doctor. I'm sure he regrets having any openings that morning.

He was gracious. And kind. Not once did he suggest I see a shrink, which is, I'm quite sure, exactly what he was thinking.

"You're not dying," he said slowly. "You're aging," he said even slower. For some reason I don't think he thought I would get it.  "I'm what?!" I said, "I'm only 37!"  "Your eyes are aging; it happens to everyone." he repeated. He then proceeded to slowly explain to me the science behind aging eyes, and tell me that I probably had a few more good years left.

"Do you have glasses?" he asked me when my appointment was over. "Well, yes," I said. "Where are they?" "At home, of course!" I answered. "I really don't think I need them." "Maybe you should try wearing them," he said slowly again. I'm really not sure why he was talking to me so slowly, when I was speaking so fast and frantically to him.

I got home, told Dan the good news that I wasn't dying of a brain tumor, and then put on my glasses.

I took a look in the mirror. Hey! The face in the mirror looks more like my face than I thought! Maybe I won't die of aging after all!

At least not yet....