Frogner Park

 Yesterday I was going through some old pictures, and I found this one taken on an old fashioned camera and then scanned into a computer years later.  It was taken Spring Break of my Jr. year of college in Norway, when I went to Scandinavia on a choir tour.

We visited Frogner Park in Oslo and this was one of MANY statues in a tremendous and breathtaking sculpture garden.

True and Important

 So true and so important to remember...

Infamy

December 7th is a date which will live in infamy.

Our country has a very poor memory.  I do not.

Little Bit

 "A grandmother is a little bit parent,

A little bit teacher,

and a little bit best friend."

- Unknown

18 Years

There are so many things I didn’t know about losing someone you love. I’m sure the knowledge I didn’t know has filled many books that I never read.

But today, I’m focused on one thing that I didn’t know.

I didn’t know that when a loved one dies, a part of your life freezes in time. A part of your life can never go on because the part of your life that had that person in it has stopped. Your life goes on but they do not and thus the part of your life with them is frozen in time forever.

I was 18 years old when my sister died and today marks 18 years since she died. In a few short months I will have lived more days on this earth without her than I did with her.

Last night, as I was mentally preparing for today, I found myself in my basement going through stacks of old pictures from high school. I wasn’t sifting through them sentimentally, but rather looking at myself at that age -- looking into the face of myself at 18 and studying the only sister that my sister, Tracey, knew.

My sister, Tracey, has not been here for 18 years so the only person she knew me to be was the growing up I did between birth and age 18. She watched me grow through childhood, as a kid, in awkward puberty, and in high school.  That was it.  That was all the growing I did in our relationship.  She saw me fall in puppy love with my high school boyfriend, she watched me excel in high school, she watched me blossom with a group of close friends, she watched me share musical talents and play on athletic teams, she watched me gain acceptance to Washington and Lee University but she would never see me leave for my freshman year, she saw me leave for my high school prom, and she saw me leave for my high school graduation.

There were no last pictures taken with my sister. As I was sifting through, I saw pictures of prom, graduation, of the graduation after party that the school put on for the Seniors, and then pictures of the graduation open house my parents threw for me.  My sister was alive for my graduation, although she was too ill to attend... but she died before my graduation open house.

I guess when she was lying in a hospice bed dying in our family room I never thought to snap a selfie with her. People just didn’t often take selfie’s as often back in the day. You had to awkwardly hold a camera out in front of you and your friend, smile, and I hope that you captured your own head and the other person's head in the frame. You wouldn’t know if you did until you finished that roll of film, took it to get developed, and got the prints back.

I’m sure my sister was probably very sensitive about her appearance as she neared the end of her life. I don’t remember anything to that effect, but I’m sure I wouldn’t want a lot of pictures taken if I had been in her shoes.

Sometimes I think it’s so easy to just think about the milestones and experiences she missed in my life -- my college years, my graduate school years, my single years in Colorado, my courtship with my husband, my engagement, my wedding, my marriage, my entrance into motherhood, and her three nieces and two nephews – my five children who she never met.  She also never met my cat or my dog... and there is an above average chance that she would have liked both my dog and my cat better than any of my children.

But the truth is when I look back, it looks like another person that she had as her sister. I was such a different person at age 18 than I have become in the past 18 years.

And yet, in ever picture of myself with my sister, I am frozen at the age of 18 or younger.  I recognize her, but I am not the same.  That is the life before grief.  Losing her was possibly the most influential factor of my young life.

Ralph Waldo Emerson said, 

“I cannot remember the books I've read any more than the meals I have eaten; even so, they have made me.”

 My sister and I were not especially close.  We did our best given the huge age gap between us – practically different generations. Yet her life, and her death, have significantly shaped me.

I miss you dearly, Trace. I wish it could’ve been different. I look forward to your learning who I am and my learning so much more about you, in heaven.

The Easiest Days

I'm mostly recording this story so that I don't forget it because I think its really funny now... but I think I will find it even funnier in the future.

A few weeks ago, I attended a PEO sisterhood event where we all brought our husbands.  It was so much fun, and since my particular group of PEOs is pretty new (less than a year old), it was the first event with husbands and wives.

I am one of the younger members of the group and one of only two members with such young children (ie. children still in diapers).  During the course of our evening, some of my sisters were asking questions about my pregnancy.  Most of their children are older and so they are now in a different stage of life than my husband and I are.

One particular sister, asked if this was going to be our fourth child, which I confirmed that yes it is.  She said that she and her husband had four children.  She then went on to tell me that she thought the hardest stage was when they all had to be at a different activity, in different locations, at the same time.

I said that yes, that sounds difficult.  I said that in some ways I look forward to the kids being in school because I will get a little break at home, but that in other ways, I'm sure things will stay crazy but in a different way.

She went on to tell me that she really thinks I'm probably in the easiest days right now while all our kids are so young and at home and that it will only get harder as they get older.

I told her that if she ever wanted to swing by our house to give herself an "easy day" in my shoes, she was welcomed to do so.

My other sisters who overheard our conversation burst out laughing hysterically.

What I'll Remember...

We spent this past weekend in Colorado Springs with some of Hubby's family, and we had such a great time.

Well, I will remember that we had such a great time.

I really love how nostalgia highlights certain parts of memories and glosses over others.

If I'm being really honest, the trip was not the greatest... but I will remember that it was wonderful.

I will not remember that we only had one hour at the children's museum before it closed for the day -- I will remember how much fun the twins and Tracey and Zivah had in the time we had before it closed.

I will not remember how hard it was to have four children under four on a boat, on choppy water -- how the older girls did not want to fish, and the babies hated wearing their life vests -- I will remember that it was a beautiful day on the water, and we had a really fun picnic on the deck by the lake after our boating trip.

I will not remember that Tracey was sick and cranky while Hubby and I had a date night, and we came home to a very unhappy little girl -- I will remember how much fun our date night was -- shopping, and dinner while we watched great college football and baseball playoffs.

I will not remember how sick and cranky Tracey was at the zoo -- I will remember how much she loved the bear show, and how she and Zivah both sat in Hubby's lap because they wanted to be close to the bear, but they wanted to feel safe in his lap being so close to a huge bear.

I will not remember that the pumpkin patch was the windiest place and kept blowing gusts of dirt all over everyone, or that the older girls were exhausted and kept bursting into tears every few minutes -- I will remember how cute they looked in their costumes, and that they had fun on the tractor ride.

The memory really is selective, and when a trip ends on a good note, the entire trip is remembered with affection.

We are now home, Tracey is back to her healthy, happy self, the weekend really was fun, we would love to go back to Colorado Springs for more adventures, we love that our family came out for some fun... and there really is no place like home.

Long Lost Friend

In a lot of ways I feel like I don't quite fit in to my generation.  

• I like staying home with my children -- despite sometimes wondering if I'm slowly going crazy amid the chaos.  
• Sometimes better technology is just exhausting and I want a break from it.  
• I write old letters -- the kind with stamps and envelopes that are delivered by mailmen.  
• I prefer my men in collars (polos work) and my women in skirts or dresses.
• When our society is thrilled to pop a pill to fix a problem, I am more content to seek alternative fixes, give it time, tough it out, or simply put up with the situation rather than seek a prescription.
• I love old stories -- movies and books that others find boring because of their sweet story lines with life lessons and happy endings are balm to my heart in these troubled times.
• I believe in respect including addressing others with their title -- Dr. Sanden, Mrs. Miller, Officer Jones, Miss Jacobs, Uncle Chris, Aunt Shari.  Not only do I expect my children to address adults in this way, I introduce myself to children as Mrs. Miller and expect to be addressed as such.  I even instruct Tracey to call her 12 year old baby-sitters "Miss Addy" and "Miss Carrie" -- at the age of 2, there are very few people that Tracey should address with their first name, and anyone caring for her deserve her respect -- in action and name -- and (especially for children) its hard to show respect in action if you are addressing someone as you would a friend.  But, I digress.

I don't quite fit in my generation.

 

I mail holiday cards to my nieces and nephews -- and not just Christmas cards.  Yes, I send Christmas cards to many friends and family each year... but, to my nieces and nephews, I send Valentine's Cards, St. Patrick Day Cards, Easter Cards, Halloween Cards, Thanksgiving Day Cards and Birthday Cards.  To Aunts and Uncles and grandparents and great-grandparents, I send Mother's and Father's Day cards.  To many friends and family, I send anniversary cards.

 

This is just who I am.  I learned it from my mom, and I love getting mail -- so I love blessing others with mail, especially children, like my nieces and nephews.

 

But, each holiday, I notice how much of a misfit I am from my generation.

 

While I sit down with my children a week before a holiday, and everyone "writes a note" -- or makes some colorful mark on a holiday card to send to their cousins... often my children, holiday after holiday no card, or one from my parents, depending on the holiday.  Eventually my children are going to realize that we have a one-way mailbox... or think our mailbox only receives mail from Grammie and Papa.

 

All that to say...

 

I am at home in Michigan packing up childhood keepsakes because my parents are moving this fall.  Yesterday I came upon holiday card after holiday card -- every holiday under the sun -- written to me sent from my older sister, Tracey.

 

She was 21 when I was born, and so all through my baby, toddler and preschool years -- while she was in her early- and mid-twenties, she was mailing me sweet holiday cards, just like I now mail holiday cards to my nieces and nephews.

 

It took my breath away to feel as though I had stumbled upon a long lost friend -- a sister with whom I have more in common than I will ever know.  She died when I was 18 and I had barely begun to grow into the person I would become.

 

 

So maybe I don't fit in with my generation... but I come by it honestly.  I fit in with my family... and I take after my sister.  Without evening knowing it, I take after, and fit in with, my sister.

 

Were she still alive, I have no doubt, she would be sending my children holiday cards, just like she sent me thirty years ago.

 

Its hard to grieve memories that never happened... that never had the chance to happen... like realizing my sister really is a long lost friend.

The Memories

My parents have been here the past two weeks to enable me to teach students and work eleven of the past twelve days.

Hubby and I have decided to settle out West, away from our families, and we love this small town that we now call home, but it makes us ardently appreciate the little sweet memories we are able to make with our families when they visit.

 

With two four-month olds, and one two-year-old, there were many crazy, happy, silly times... but a few things I want to remember include:

All going to get ice cream cones on a beautiful Spring day a few days ago with a high in the mid-70s

 

Walking into Grammie and Papa's room after work to find that Tracey had been performing "5 Little Monkeys Jumping On the Bed" repeatedly for over 30 minutes by jumping near the bed, falling on the floor, pretending to bonk her head, running over to Papa (who was the doctor), letting Papa examine her head and tell her she'd be fine, then run back to her jumping spot next to the bed and repeat the whole thing

Attending a local track meet with our whole crew, and watching my parents wear both Howard and Caroline in baby wraps so that I could chase after Tracey Ann

 

Getting up in the morning to find out that Grammie and Tracey had been up since 5:15am and had handed Papa his watch and glasses, made coffee, had some breakfast, and were watching Curious George together.

Watching both my parents literally have their arms full of grandchildren upwards of 12 hours a day every day.

Hearing my dad sing old songs to Howard and Caroline while they coo-ed and blew bubbles along with him.

Watching Tracey Ann take my mom's hand and say, "Com, Gay-ee" (Come on, Grammie!) to insist that Grammie participate in whatever she is doing.

Watching Tracey and Grammie play basketball and soccer in the backyard while Papa bounces the babies in their bouncy chairs.

Such simple things, but things that I do not get to see very often.  When we only see my parents every few months, our children change drastically every time we see them, and so the next time we get together will be full of sweet memories -- but different memories because the children will be doing new and different things.

Bob Hope is famous for saying (and singing), "Thanks for the memories..." and he was so wise, because memories really are some of the most precious gifts anyone can give or receive.

 So, Grammie and Papa -- thank you for the childcare... but more importantly, thanks for the memories.

Back of the Bottom Drawer

When I was growing up, our television didn't get MTV.  It wasn't that my parents didn't pay for the channel -- our television was so old, it literally didn't get the channel.  MTV was channel 38 or something, and our television only went up to channel 26... or was it 21?

For that reason, the very few music videos I saw in my youth are ones I remember.

I still don't know how I came to watch the video, "Back of the Bottom Drawer," but that song stayed with me ever since.  I only heard the song once, but I remembered the title, the content, and lyrics so well that, I was able to find it on KaZaa (one of the primitive, possibly illegal, downloading sites) eight-ish years later during my freshman year of college.

From the first time I heard this song, I not only loved it, but I knew that it told a story that I wanted for my life.  I was never raised being told that I would meet one man, fall in love, and get married.  I was raised more with the, "you've got to kiss a lot of frogs" and "don't get too serious with this one, there will be other boys" philosophy.

I must have strongly understood that philosophy at age 10, or thereabouts, because when I heard this song, I knew, not only was this song telling a story I wanted for myself, but it was telling a story of the life I was destined to have.

Granted, I wanted my own story -- not hers -- and I certainly didn't want to copy her mistakes... but I made a decision at age 10, or thereabouts, that I was not going to throw away old mementos from relationships despite heart-breaks and break-ups... because someday, I would be happily married, and I wanted to have something at the back of the bottom drawer with tangible memories from the beautiful, adventurous life that led me to my wonderful husband.

The song made sense to me, from that very young age...

"I don't keep these things 'cause I'm longing to go back
I keep them because I want to stay right where I'm at
I'm reminded of my rights and wrongs
I don't want to mess this up
But I wouldn't know where I belong
Without this box of stuff"

Well, I don't need a 'box of stuff' to know where I belong... but it is a sweet reminder of all the experiences, people, and adventures that led me to the blessed and wonderful life I have today.

Worth Remembering

As Hubby and I worked to pack our bags and our car to head home to Colorado from Michigan, my dad played with Tracey Ann.

I forever want to remember the beautiful picture of my six month old daughter happily cooing as my 81-year-old father played with her on the ground.

She lay on his chest, he helped her roll over, he helped her reach for toys, he supported her sitting up, he made up fun songs, and she chattered back at him.

Eventually I heard less and less chatter from the area where they were playing.  I eventually walked over to check on them, and my baby girl was sound asleep, and her Papa was singing quietly holding her little foot -- just like, when I was a little girl, he would hold my foot while I fell asleep.

I am such a blessed mother... and daughter.

Cold Water Challenge

Its probably just because I grew up in Michigan and so I remain in contact on facebook with a number of people who reside in West Michigan, but my facebook newsfeed has recently inundated with people taking the "Cold Water Challenge".

Apparently you need to take a video of yourself jumping in Lake Michigan (a VERY cold Spring Lake Michigan), or give $100 to the charity of your choice.  Then you post the video on facebook and challenge a few of your facebook friends.

To be honest, I'm a little grateful that I'm not currently residing around Lake Michigan, lest I might get challenged...

But all of these videos remind me of a very special memory, which I would like to share.  I have done a Lake Michigan challenge... but long before facebook existed.

My best friend from childhood (Abbie) and I decided we wanted to be the first people in Lake Michigan in this millennium.  We were 15 years old and sophomores in high school with a lot to learn but an insatiable urge for innocent adventure.  We rung in the new year with her parents at her grandparents house (we were real party animals), and then we embarked on the task of convincing her dad to let us quickly jump in Lake Michigan.

Abbie's parents were NOTHING like my parents -- absolutely polar opposites even to the tune that my dad was Abbie's dad's pediatrician when he was a boy.  For years into our friendship, Mr. Rockwood continued to call my dad Dr. Sanden because this man had been his pediatrician.  It took much urging on the part of my dad to FINALLY convince Mr. Rockwood to call him Howard.

I don't remember all the details of convincing Mr. Rockwood to give us a ride to Lake Michigan... but I do remember we had an elaborate  "Warm-up Plan."  I remember reiterating our "Warm-up Plan" repeatedly, explaining to Mr. Rockwood that we would be fine, and we would only be in the water for seconds... and then we had a warm-up plan... we would be fine.

I know, among other things, the "Warm-Up Plan" consisted of leaving the heat blasting in the car, wearing winter boots, pants, coats and hats, with swim suits underneath, so we would be fully bundled up... then strip down to our swim suits, run into Lake Michigan, submerge ourselves under the water, run right back out, quickly dry off, and bundle up again... then run to the car with the heat blasting.

We FINALLY convinced Mr. Rockwood to let us have this experience.

IT. WAS. AWESOME.

Such a great, stupid memory that Abbie and I shared -- the first people in Lake Michigan in this millennium -- around 3:00am January 1, 2000.  We have pictures, but I believe they can currently be found in my parent's Michigan basement.

I don't have a strong desire to participate in another cold water challenge at the moment, but I can attest that it is fun, invigorating, and empowering.  Also, after dunking in freezing temperatures, the cold air feels really mild.

What an awesome memory.

4 and 3 Amazing Years

4 years ago today, the most wonderful man in the world (although I didn't know he was the most wonderful man in the world at the time... I just knew he was pretty interesting, and worth getting to know) asked me out on our first date.

3 years ago today, the most wonderful man in the world offered me the most beautiful diamond ring I had ever seen (in a snowstorm, with 12 new inches of snow beneath us) asked me to be his wife.

Today is a very special day to us... and both memories feel like yesterday -- and ages ago.  These have been 4 and 3 amazing years, and I am more in love with my husband today than ever before.

I cannot put the last 3 or 4 years into words except to say I love being married to this man.  We grow closer together every day, every week, every year.  There is no challenge we cannot face together, and we become better at loving each other with every challenge that comes our way.  I see God's love in this man every day, and he challenges me to be more like Jesus every day.  I love every day with him, and I can't imagine forever being enough time with him.  I am so grateful and humbled that God chose him for me.

A Letter To Myself About Pregnancy

Five years ago, in April 2008, I wrote a very heartfelt email to a friend who was pregnant and in the hospital on bed rest.  I was in graduate school at Vanderbilt, two years  post-heart break, two-years post-boyfriend, and wondering if God had a husband out there for me, and if I would ever be pregnant with our child.

I wrote the following email to my friend... and now, five-and-a-half years later, as I am struggling with tiredness, fatigue, the size of my body, and uncertainty about the future, I know I need to read my own words.

This was my letter to a pregnant friend five years ... but its also a letter to a pregnant me, from the lonely young woman, beseeching God, begging for everything that, five years later, He has provided in abundance.  In order to truly appreciate my blessings, I need to remember where I came from, and how faithful God has been on my journey.

Hey Liz -

After a week of non-stop paper-writing, I am taking a few minutes before bed to tune into abcfamily to catch the end of "Father of the Bride Part II".  In doing so, I've found myself full of familiar thoughts and hopes for my life and I wanted to take a second and share a few with you as you find yourself in your final weeks of pregnancy.  I'm sure in many ways I'm writing this as much for myself as I am for you, and I know we don't know each other very well, but I hope you can receive what I write with a tender heart and know that there is much love and hope behind everything I write.
I'm to the point in life (young as I am) where I am more excited to have a baby than I am to get married.  A part of me is terrified at the idea of marriage - trusting another human that much; the whole process of meeting, knowing, growing, trusting, committing... it scares me.  I am, however, so excited to have a baby.  And more specifically, in my never-been-pregnant ignorance, I am most excited to be pregnant.  I was the youngest of my family so I had never even felt a baby kick through a stomach until about a year ago (when a close friend of mine was pregnant and I happened to feel the little kick on my hand from the outside).  I can't imagine what it feels like to have a child growing inside of me; moving, kicking, hiccuping -- it's an honor women throughout time have sacrificed their bodies to experience; an experience no man can or will ever have; it is the only way life begins -- and I want to experience it so much.

For as much as I enjoy my studies, all I want is to be married and have a family.  If I could be in the grad school of "how to find a Godly husband" or "prep for future wives and mothers" I would be.  Some days it is hard to apply myself diligently to what is in front of me because all and everything I want, have nothing to do with the path I'm on.  I'm digressing, but the point is, I am being so well trained for a job I don't want to have for very long.
Why am I writing all of this to you, a relative acquaintance and sister in Christ?  I'm sure your pregnancy has not progressed as you expected or always imagined.  You may be rounding those days where you're ready to move on and embrace the next stage of motherhood - where you can walk around again, when you will meet your child and hold her.  I guess I want to let you know that what you feel right now, your pregnancy... there are women (myself being one) who are living on the hope and anticipation of someday feeling what you're feeling right now.  The good, the bad and the unpleasant - I probably have a very romantic and ignorant idea of pregnancy, but I want to experience it more than anything else in life.
Sometimes I think it's easier to endure our current assignment when we realize we're living someone else's dream.  I'm hoping to brighten your last weeks by telling you that, despite your frustrations and complications beyond measure, you're living mine.
Love and prayers.

Brooke (at 24 years old)

September Highlights

I was so excited about writing about the start of October yesterday, that I didn't actually sum up September.  In sum... September was crazy.

September was a whirlwind.  The first three weeks of the month were spent soaking up as much time as possible with my husband, who I was not with for the majority of the summer... but this time was far too little given that we were both back to work with a new school year.  My work was made especially complicated in September because most of the month was spent trying to create a system for my students to survive when I left for Texas for my last practicum placement on Sept 23.  September was a blur... which is all the more reason to highlight a few of the best and memorable parts of the month.

Some highlights include:

• Canning pears (and peaches) with a few of the free moments I had -- I love canning in the fall
• Fun times at the Texas State Fair
• Away from my hubby and animals again, Hubby and I are loving FaceTime to see each other while we talk... in this picture, he is holding Lexie so I can see her too.
• Hubby's 33rd birthday on Sept 13!  I am so thankful for this man!
• Hubby and I went out to a nice dinner to celebrate his birthday
• We got to see our little Nugget on the 20 week ultrasound.  The little Jitterbug was moving like crazy... in this picture is a head on the left and a foot right in the middle.  We opted not to find out if we're having a boy or a girl, but we are so grateful that everything looks healthy.
• My first night in Austin, my best friend Kelley took me to a Texas Long-Horns football game!  Hook 'em Horns!
• My friend Obinna and I had a blast in Dallas at the State Fair of Texas
• Lloyd was happy as a clam to have Chris and me back to together and at home for most of the month.  Have you ever seen a more relaxed or contented dog than the one in this picture?

Adios September.  Welcome, October!

VHS Tapes

Last night Hubby was away and so I went to my stash of old movies and chose an old VHS tape to enjoy.  I pulled out Get To The Heart: The Barbara Mandrell Story, which Mom and I taped off of TV in 1997.

It was so much fun for me put in that tape and find that in the first 5 minutes of the tape I got to see parts of a My Little Pony Movie, Good Morning America when they went to Alaska, and the opening ceremonies of the 1996 Atlanta Olympics.  Do you remember the old tapes, when you would record over past recordings?  Apparently this tape had been re-recorded over several times.  There is something so special about old VHS tapes.

Am I the only one who holds on to old VHS tapes out of sentiment?
 Will kids ever have the experience of recording something from the television and saving it for years to come that I have had with old tapes?

I know there are digital recording boxes now, and you can "Save" recordings... but as soon as you switch out the recording box, or switch cable providers, you lose the recordings.  Is there still a way to record something off of television and keep it long term, or is that what youtube is for?

Do you remember what it was like to tape something so you could watch it again later?  Maybe a movie was on TV, and you were SO excited because now you could own the movie and not have to rent it anymore.  Maybe it was a television show or awards show that was going to run too late and your parents wouldn't let you stay up to see it... but they said they would tape it for you.  Did you ever try to skip the commercials?  I would.  I would stop the recording and then start it again... Sometimes I would forget to re-start the recording and miss recording the next part of the show.

The old commercials are hysterical.  When I would watch the program soon after it aired, I would fast-forward through the commercials... now, when I watch the shows, I enjoy the old commercials as much as the show itself.

I don't miss the days of VHS tapes, having to be at home in order to record something and wondering if you have enough tape for the program you want to record.  But I do like my old VHS tapes and I have not intention of getting rid of them.

I don't know that when I grew up would be considered "The Good Ole Days"... but I would certainly call it a simpler time.  Sometimes it is nice to just remember and revisit for a minute a different time.

What do you remember from simple times?

A Christmas Carol

I have many favorite Christmas movies and Christmas shows that put me in the holiday spirit each year.  Everything from The Nativity Story, to It's a Wonderful Life, to Frosty the Snowman, to A Charlie Brown Christmas, to White Christmas, to While You Were Sleeping, to Miracle on 34th Street and many more play in my home in the days and weeks leading up to Christmas.

via

A Christmas Carol -- any version -- has never become a tradition in my Holiday movie enjoyment... but the story of A Christmas Carol remains as dear to my heart as the story of the nativity itself.

I do not watch A Christmas Carol every year, or read the book annually (although I did listen to the audio book this year and enjoyed it immensely), but whenever I come upon A Christmas Carol, or deliberately read or watch the story, I am transported to memory as clear to me as this morning, and as important to my life as the Easter story.

When I was a little girl -- around age nine or ten, I was back in my parents' bedroom watching television while my parents hosted a dinner party.  It was late January or February, which I remember because, when I came upon A Christmas Carol on television, I was surprised given that Christmas was over a month past.

I kept watching A Christmas Carol, a story I knew well, and enjoyed it very much.  I thought I was simply enjoying a television show, but I didn't know the upcoming realization that would change my life.

With the Ghost of Christmas Future, when Mr. Scrooge timidly and fearfully walks to the headstone and discovers his own name, in this production of A Christmas Carol, Mr. Scrooge didn't simply pledge to honor Christmas in his heart keep it all year, in this production, he sought forgiveness from the Lord and asked Jesus into his heart.

via

At this point in the production, the stage went dark and a minister came on the screen and did an alter call for those who also wanted to invite Jesus into their hearts.

I had asked Jesus into my heart years before, and went to church several times a week; however, during this production, I KNEW, I understood, for the first time that Jesus died for ME.

I will never forget that moment -- a revelation like I had never experienced.

I actually went out to the kitchen in my pajamas, with tears streaming down my face and interrupted my mom from her dinner party because I had to tell her that Jesus died for ME.  I told her, "I've always known he did... but Mom, he died for ME!"

Not every version of A Christmas Carol includes Mr. Scrooge inviting Jesus into his life, but for me, every version reminds me of that beautiful night when the Lord used that one version of A Christmas Carol to reveal, in my heart, His love for ME.