Francy's New Morning

Last weekend was all about slowing down in the country, relaxing with family, and saying thank you. I don’t often go upstate to see my sister, brother-in-law and nephew, so I savor these special moments. When I stepped out their door, all I saw was farmland and rolling hills. Nothing seemed to move in Lansing, NY. Peace and quiet. Rays of sunlight cast over God’s creation. The world relaxed. But I did have one plan. I had the address of the church that a group of Samaritan’s Purse volunteers attend—the next town over from Lansing. Wouldn’t it be great to visit their church? They came all the way to our house to help rebuild a few months ago. I wouldn’t get this opportunity again for a long time. Of course Saturday night I had the worst stomach pains I can remember, couldn’t sleep, and woke up late on Sunday. My plan seemed hopeless. I didn’t even consider going, thinking I might throw up, but Dad said, “Why don’t we go to that church…even if we’re late you can tha...

Usually I think of couples having a second honeymoon to celebrate a milestone like ten, twenty, or fifty years, not one. But my husband’s idea was romantic—to celebrate our first anniversary at the same country inn that we went to for our honeymoon. It was a nice idea, but the reality… We were a young couple in our early twenties—pre-kids/cellphone days. Working as live-in house managers for a group home, our only expenses were food and car insurance. Spontaneous spending was fun back then…like the shiny new acoustic guitar Gene had to buy on our trip that hogged the back seat. He didn’t know how to play the guitar and still doesn’t. So though it was a hot day in July, Gene decided he needed Timberland winter boots. I tried not to roll my eyes or point out the obvious—I mean, this was supposed to be romantic—but may have let a tiny grunt of disapproval squeak through my teeth. I forget the order now…did he buy the boots, then realize he locked his keys ...

                                                                                 Surprise!       Jordan’s room before (after gutting from Hurricane Sandy damage) Today was not just a good day—it was a day to feel blessed, thankful and loved, a day for tears of joy. The Samaritan’s Purse volunteers wanted to surprise our daughter, Jordan, with her finished bedroom today before they drove back to their homes in other states as far as Michigan. I took her out of school early while they waited in her room with cameras ready to capture her surprised smile. Among other projects this week, these wonderful volunteers painted her room the cheerful green she picked out and finished the floors, closet, door and ceiling fan. To celebrate, ...

Another special group of volunteers came to our house from Ohio this past week. Every person who comes leaves a treasure of love in our hearts as bit by bit our home is being made a home again. We love meeting people we may have never met if not for the storm’s damage. We were also given these awesome necklaces, handmade from deer antlers. One for each of us…with a meaningful scripture verse attached. My verse was Romans 6:23 “For the wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord.” This same week, Jordan, our daughter, received a letter from one volunteer explaining the important structural work he had to do in her room. While searching for the cause of an electrical problem upstairs, they discovered sagging cripple studs; this would mean nothing to me if he didn’t explain the problem—it couldn’t support the second floor. Jordan’s room had been a danger zone. She wouldn’t be able to see what was there once the wallboard covered...

Don’t look at the mountain! Casual dining for Easter 2014 This Easter we must have changed our plans five times. Typical me…I’m decision making challenged. Our dilemma: we wanted to have my parents over and go to our church for Easter, but how could we come back to a house that’s still under construction? Our dining room table has been buried under junk for the last few weeks while the bedrooms are getting finished by Samaritan’s Purse volunteers; our living  room is filled with a mountain of bedroom furniture, boxes of stuff, and emptied closets. No way! We could never have the room ready. There was no place to put anything. So I called my parents and changed the plans. As Gene and I drove to the store, we juggled ideas about getting to church and their house and baseball games the next day with one car. Then the car rattled…louder and scratchier with every block we passed. We had to walk home and plans changed again…Easter at our house in the me...

Jordan’s bedroom and the living room are the                                  Teenagers can sleep anywhere! dumping grounds while other rooms get finished Our bedroom is next! The “after” pictures don’t mean much if I don’t see the “before and during.” I want to appreciate how much was done to improve our house, to remember everything Samaritan’s Purse did for our family and share this with others. We did nothing to deserve their help; we just had to be willing to accept their generous gift. This is such a picture of what God has done for the world. This ugly, messy, broken house from the storm that I never want to see again is like the sin in our past that God forgives and forgets after repentance. In Romans 3:23, He says: “for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.” But He doesn't leave us like this and walk away; like the good Samaritan—God stay...

  My view never changes. From my small room, B bed, I have a window to the outside world. One white birch tree hugs a chain link fence, and the top half of a tennis dome rises above it. I can’t see the ocean that lives only three blocks away; but on a quiet night when James isn’t snoring next to me, and most residents are sleeping, I listen to the rhythm of the waves, crashing against the shore. I smell the salty air from my open window, and imagine being a captain of a ship—sometimes a pirate ship to add adventure to my dreams.   Did I tell you I’m almost fifty? Thirty years a quadriplegic, more than half my life. The first half I was into extreme sports—anything most people thought I was crazy for trying.   Hang-gliding, freestyle snowboarding, and my last adventure in motorcycle racing. I can’t remember the accident, but I remember hearing someone say, “His chances are fifty/ fifty,” before I opened my eyes. I never knew the family in the car I hit; they remain...