I BELIEVE

Passing this on from my sweet daughter (in my own words from various creeds):

I believe in God the Father, Creator of heaven and earth and all Gibbs seen and unseen. God was and is and will always be. He is the prime mover, the highest of all spiritual beings. He preceded all that was created and will remain even if all that exists no longer exists. 

I believe in God's only begotten son-- begotten, not created -- Jesus of Nazareth, the Christ/Messiah; the incarnate logos/word -- the creative initiator who pre existed in the heavenly host and who came to be incarnate at the appointed time . . . a time decided upon before anything seen or unseen was created. Jesus Christ is the Redeemer of all creation and the Savior of all humankind, each of whom has been endowed by the Creator with free will to either accept or reject faith in God in Jesus Christ. When a person receives Jesus as her or his Savior, that person Immediately becomes transformed from being a finite creature subject to sin and death into an eternal being of light and life and love.

I believe in the Holy Spirit, the Spirit of Truth, the perfector of all creatures and all of creation -- the Sanctifier, also eternally existent in the Trinity. 

I believe in the Body of Christ on earth and in heaven -- those who act out the love of God and serve God and human beings and who are stewards of creation on Earth, the members collectively of the universal congregation of the faithful, both in the material plane and on the spiritual plane, eternally and abundantly alive in the life of the living God, who will never die, but live completely and eternally in and with the spirit of God.

I believe that Jesus became incarnate, lived, taught, performed miracles, was betrayed by those who believed that He threatened their power, suffered His passion under Pontius Pilate, the rulers of the Temple in Jerusalem and the political ruler of the Jews, the Tetrach Herod Antipas; was crucified, died and was buried in a stone tomb. On the third day after Jesus' death He rose from the dead and lived again on earth for fifty days as witnessed by the people who knew him best and by over 500 other people.

I believe Jesus descended into Hell to deliver the captives there from sin and death. As witnessed by His followers, Jesus ascended into Heaven and sits at the right hand of God the Father, the Creator.
On Pentecost as Jesus promised, He sent the Holy Spirit, the Spirit of Truth, the Paraclete, the one who comes along side us to sanctify us, guard us, and guide us -- to reveal Jesus to us and to offer the gift of faith to us.

I believe that at a time that only the Father, the Creator knows, that Jesus will come again to live on Earth -- to fulfill the promises of God and to bring about the completion of the Rule of God,

I believe that when an individual come to believe in God in Christ Jesus that that person moves for the darkness into the light; from existence into abundant life; from slavery to sin and death into eternal life in the Glory of God.

If you have already received Jesus as your personal Lord and Savior and believe in God the Father, Jesus of Nazareth, the Christ/Messiah; the Holy Spirit, Sanctifier, Truth, Accompanier, then all the above is true and available to you.

If you do not yet believe, you can ask the Holy Spirit any question and as many questions as you need to ask until you have all you need to know and to believe.

The Living God is always able to draw you closer to His Heart. He loves you and has good plans for you whether you believe in Him or not. As long as you cling to the rational and the material you will continue to close yourself off from the possibility of eternal life in the fullness of love and light and life. That is your choice.

God deeply desires to bless you with love and a beautiful relationship that you cannot even imagine as long as you keep denying God's existence and love in Jesus Christ. 

If you do seek God, you will find Him because God created you to love you and bless you for His own sake. When you turn to Him, nothing will ever be able to cut you off from God's love, mercy, peace, joy, grace, faith and provision. 

You cannot buy faith. You cannot earn it. You cannot do anything to deserve it. Your Father in Heaven offers it to you and will keep offering it to you out of His unconditional love and mercy.

If you do not know the Living God in Christ Jesus, Beloved, all you have to do is to open your heart a little bit, and the Holy Spirit will help you gently in whatever way you need help, taking all the time you need and answering all your questions and erasing all your doubts in exactly the way you need.

My prayer is always that if you know Him already, that you will continue to allow Him to draw you closer to His heart. And for you who do not yet know Him for whatever reason, I pray that you will give Him a chance to show you and prove to you everything you need to know.

I write all this and pray in Jesus' Holy Name, Soli Deo Gloria.

Alleluia! Amen and amen.

ON THE ISLANDS OF THE MIDWAY ATOLL

Midway Atoll

There's a large cross on a point on Midway Atoll about 30 Degrees North Latitude and in the longitude just to the west of the International Dateline. On a plague near the cross there is a proclamation that on Easter morning (as on each other day), the sun rises for the last time in the last time zone of the space-time delineation registered on Earth, on the chunks of land above the water line clinging to the top of a somewhat dormant volcano that rises from the Pacific Ocean floor just there.

The last time I was there in the summer of 1982, the bright fuchsia-colored bougainvillea that decorated a trellis over the entranceway to the front door of the commander's quarters was blooming brilliantly. The only time I was in the house, however, was for a Christmas Eve Reception that the skipper put on for all of us after the Christmas Eve Service in the Cannon Memorial Chapel. The party was held concurrently with another celebration in the Navy Chiefs' Club. One of my Navy friends who was a P-3 aviator and I had left the party at the Chiefs' Club in time to join the small group of observant people for the Candlelight Service.

At the end of worship, we left the sanctuary lit only by the glow of our candles and walked out on the ironwood tree covered Midway roads. Our candles were not as bright as beautiful full moon and the sparkling stars over the vault is sky and shimmering on the turquoise water of the lagoon made glowing with the iridescent light reflected back from the tiny black-light-like pearly sands under the water, on the beaches, and under the layers of long and elegant ironwood pine needles so useful to the gooney birds (AKA Laysan albatross) that covered the island in winter, but were almost totally gone from the little pieces of sandy atoll islands for the almost five months a year that included summer. . .
The contrasts between the islands in December of '81and January of '82 compared with how they looked from mid-July through early September were varied and beautiful.

In the summer most traces of gooney nests where the very large eggs sat while gestating and being tended and talked to in that marvelous gooney language complete with chirps, whinnies, clicks, honks and other noises was non-stop day and night with perhaps only one short period of time it seemed like all creatures and inanimate k next a of nature held their collective and individual breaths in order to await, honor and celebrate the biggest and most important event of the day when the great firey bright orange/magenta/yellow/flaming red orb churned its way out of the eastern edge of the sea with a show of glory and majesty that was worth waiting for and impossible to resist.
So in about fifty-two hours for now that is what will be happening on the Easter morning as humans or other creature might be able to experience if they are so inclined.

I may be watching from 11 time zones to the East . . . so very much earlier that same day. The joy and the wonder will keep being passed on and shared almost like a "Wave" in a football, basketball, baseball, soccer or rugby stadium.

(Who starts those "Waves," anyway?)

Do you suppose they do them at bullfights or do you think they might have occurred at gladiator contests?'

What might one be like if the Colosseum in Rome or some other city of the Roman Empire were built? Do you think that audiences at figure skating tournaments or gymnastic meets could catch the fever and try them out?

Certainly they must happen at hockey games.

But what about jai alai games or political pep rallies of demagogues?

Excuse my obsession with the idea of "Waves", please. My imagination carried me away.

Ciao bella and bello!

ON FRIDAY NIGHTS AT THE OFFICER CANDIDATE CLUB

We would dance in our Class A uniforms, trousers to trousers, patent leather corfam dress shoes to patent leather corfam dress shoes. Those of us who were confident that we had few enough demerits or enough extra merits to pass the Saturday morning inspection and get a pass to be able to go off base from noon on Saturday until 4pm on Sunday were the happiest. If not, we would at least be looking forward to some rest and peace.

Our squadron comrades would pull together to help those who were having trouble with the requirements of The United States Air Force Officer Training School (OTS) near Lackland Air Force Training Base, just outside of San Antonio Texas.

OTS was three months long if you graduated on the first try. Some officer candidates had to recycle and do however much was required over again. Some were cut from the program. Some even disqualified themselves. For the first half of the training we were not allowed to go off base at all.
For the second half the bar kept getting higher and higher in order to earn the privilege of spending the night and two half days or so either side of it. Some of us just stayed in Sam Antonio enjoying the River Walk. . . Spending time in Brackenridge Park riding on the little train of the kind you sometimes see at zoos or parks . . . Walking around the hanging gardens in the old stone quarry.

We were so used to marching everywhere with at least one other person, but usually with ten to twenty other officer candidates in our squadrons or with the whole group while practicing on the parade ground for our commissioning parade. The sun bore holes directly through the patent leather covers of our corfam shoes so that you could tel the sun's position overhead without looking up into the sky.

So we would be walking across the fields of the park or down trails and someone would have to say, "Break STEP," so we would be moving ahead perambulating using the opposite foot forward from whoever we walked alongside.

Then at the end of the day somewhere around 6-9 of us each would find a place to sleep on a bed or on the floor, still in our civvies, dead to the world because being exhausted was part and parcel of the training.

They told us they were trying to show us where our breaking points were and so we could learn how to push past through them . . . or sleep and understand that no one was indispensable, though all together as a team we were essential.

We were given tasks which taxed our personal capabilities and exercises the helped us learn how to lead a team or how to relinquish the leadership role in favor of aiding our suasion members to fulfill our assignments as a viable collective working unit.

An upper classmate named Tierney would stand across the hall from me during Saturday morning inspections, making faces at me when the inspectors were not looking, trying to get me to laugh and spoil my chances to go off base. The closer we got to the date of our commissioning . . . on Amelia Earhardt's birthday in 1980 . . . July 24th. . . the more second nature it became to be in inspection order all the time . . . even in the few hours of sleep we got every night if we were lucky.

Once when we were about halfway through I called home where I trusted that their dad was taking very good care of our daughter Krista, who was eight years old; and our son, Tom, who was a few months short of turning six. After catching up a bit, my husband said, "Kath! Your children are so wonderful!"

And I was confused and queried, "What are you taking about? Of course they are, but they are your kids, too."

"Yeah," he answered. "But I didn't know them at all."

We had a lot of joy when he brought them to our family picnic weekend. He and Krista drove down to the picnic pavilion in the car, but officer candidates were not allowed to be in a car on base unless we were leaving with a pass. So Tommy marched down the hill from my quarters with me. If a car with an officer sticker on the wind shield came toward us, we were required to salute because certainly the officer inside was above rank to us since we had no official rank -- only cadet ranks.

Tommy saluted when I did, and it turned out the commander of OTS, the highest ranking active duty officer we had was the driver of the car. As he returned our salutes he had a big smile on his face.
The hardest thing I ever did was that I left my kids for three months in order to do what I felt the Lord was calling me to do -- using my Russian language skills and other talents and experience to serve our country. Seeing the kids part way through was bittersweet because it was so difficult to let them go. 

Tommy was sure he could get me to come home with them, and it broke my heart to break his heart and tell him that I couldn't. I told them that I was as close as a thought and that I would be with them in spirit.

Sometimes in the moments before falling asleep I would imagine what they had done that day and move into a dream of being with the them.

My kids' dad came in active duty as an Air Force officer ten months before I did, so he swore me in at the recruiting office in New Orleans the morning I left for Texas, and three months later, he required the commissioning oath from me the evening before our commissioning parade.

All that was very moving and meaningful, but in the three months of OTS and the four months of Air Intelligence Officer Training in Denver, I only saw them all four times. Although I didn't know the Lord very well in those days, I had an inkling of faith and a smidgen of hope that He would use everything for good. 

* * * *

Twenty-six years ago I was preparing to leave our house on Keesler Air Force Base near Biloxi, Mississippi where my husband was in training as a communications officer. We had wonderful fellowship with the members of his class and their spouses and kids. Every Saturday we would put an un-stuffed turkey in the charcoal kettle grill. Four hours later, after a rollicking rough house of a touch football game on the gulf beach we would have a great party. We supplied the turkey and bread. Everyone else brought all sorts of delicious dishes and whatever they wanted to drink.

During the last game I attended a few days before leaving for OTS, we stayed up all night, taking, dancing, laughing, eating, and playing games. The kids all had a ball, too.
It was the best send-off I could possibly have had.

Today and always, Beloved, may the Lord continue to bless and keep you and yours.

GOOD FRIDAY REMEMBRANCES

My daughter and I celebrate her birthday on the anniversary of the solar calendar date she was born, but also on the liturgical calendar day because she was born on Good Friday. Right after she was born, I hemoraghed and almost died. Had a near death experience and it wasn't until she was six years old that I told anyone about it because I just thought people would think I was crazy . . . or that I was silly . . . or that I was trying to fool them by pretending that something that came out of my imagination was real.

I have written about it before, and am too tired to go into the whole story right now . . .

But just wanted to say,"Happy Good Friday Birthday" to Krista on this, the eve of her spiritual birthday . . . and I consider Good Friday a "Re-Birthday" for myself . . .

Ever since I got that concussion and the other slight injuries from the train accident between midnight and 1am on March 7th, on a metaphysical and emotional level, I have been more dissociated and in a kind of ultra-focused spiritually mode with an extra-consciousness awareness underneath or to the side of the connections to the more rational and/or material realities.

I have at times been in a state where I seem to be standing next to myself, or a little bit above and to the right of my physical self.

Best not to let this get back to my therapist until I can sort it out. I think the way I am feeling and understanding still leads back to the trauma and shock and physical hurts I experienced during the accident and in the 36-72 hours following the crash.

That kind of meditative state is very appropriate to Lent and Holy Week anyway . . . especially if I have people around me who love me and who know how I can get when there is an external or internal trigger of some or all of the PTSD symptoms.

Like I wrote above, though . . . I am too tired to get into any more this evening.

Dad and I took a little trip to see his podiatrist today and then we went out to have lunch at one of our favorite lunch places. After that he took a nap and now he is playing poker with his buddies at our club house.

Saw the sun set last night, and it was really lovely. For the last week or so the moon has been very bright, the evenings and nights cool with crisp and dry air. Today was the first day some of the humidity that will increase as spring goes on and as summer arrives.

The blossoming trees and flowers look so beautiful and the Gulf today was a bright light bluish grey green . . . many families and couples and other groups of people are here enjoying spring break or Holy Week or whatever else they might be celebrating. For us year-round residents, we can sometimes get irritated with all the people and traffic and crowded restaurants and stores . . . but you can't blame anyone for wanting to be here -- especially if they are from a place where winter means cold, snow, ice and darkness.

May the Lord continue to be with you all and everyone you love this evening, this night and always, Beloved. In Jesus' Holy Name I pray. Amen and Amen.

THE THING ABOUT TRAINS

On Sunday night, March 6, 2016, I was blessed to be on board the AMTRAK Crescent train hurling its way north from Georgia to Washington, DC, Beloved. Have so much to tell you to catch you up on how things have been going. 

The red buds are blooming in northern Georgia, in the Cherokee Foothills and up through the spines of ridges of the Appalachians bringing with them memories of other mountains, of other train trips, of other blessings, of other springs. 

One long extended vernal journey stretched from Anchorage to Shemya to Tokyo to Seoul to Kwang Ju and up and down and around again . . . ice and snow and freezing and dark and long to the bright triangle set amid the North Pacific to edges of coasts to nearly endless oceans to crowded air terminal noodles to karsh hills and tents with stoves and stove pipes and .. . Yes.

Just like M.A.S.H.

And my tactical call sign was Chattermark, the code for skipping through pre-arranged radio frequencies if jammed and I threatened those wise guy fighter pilots that it had better NOT devolve into "Chatty Cathy."

And the delicate beauty of the "Land of the Morning Calm" gave way to darker grey, then a hint of pink then reddish, then some orange and maybe fuscia and then bright sunshine and loud jet noise and the acrid smells of JP-5' aircraft fuel mixed with kimshe.

Then rides in C-130s, fat-belied, sturdy and ups and downs hitting each coastal defense town . . . Not in this order, but waking and sleeping . . . Pusan, Kunsan, Osan . . Because all the wives wanted eel skin purses and wallets and silk shirts and dresses with beautiful embroidery. So I was also CINC shopping. (Commander in Chief)

And the cold gave gradually and grudgingly away to a round of colder and damp . . . and rain and warm . . . Watch what you eat, what you drink, and especially with whom you play . . !
Serious days with gas masks. . . Jets bumping wings, talking dogs; and dog and pony shows; and dogs on the menu. And the Imperial Blue party suits like flight suits but with a map of Alaska embroidered on the back with our operating bases . . . And who wants some mink blankets, silk beads, amethysts, jade, . . And why in the world did they all like to dress the same anyway? Guys!
The trees over the open benju ditches began to bud and bloom along with reports of carrier activities, helo ops, fighter escorts, planes "painted" by radar. . . Who wants more squadron patches?

Who wants to phone home?

Prep and brief and launch and new message traffic and changing battle lines and changing orders of battle and battling sleep and combat naps.

And the smallest flowers started to bloom and the plum trees, too.

Seriouser and seriouser . . . Curious and curiouser . . . Tunnels and caves and triple "A" and SAMs and bomber groups and then our commander flew into the Yellow Sea. Lost and gone. Too sad, but had to get over it, or shove it down and keep going.

I've mentioned it before this.

Fighter pilot wakes are amazing to behold but we couldn't fit it in . . .just a memorial service in the hangar and we knew the agony of exactly what rituals and ceremonies and missing man formations were going on back home in Alaska where it was still dark; and still cold--and still six to eight inches of ice piled up everywhere there was not salt or sand. Layers of that, too.

We pressed on.

The rest of the exercise lasted almost a month because he died on the third day . . . And the first Jolly Green Giant rescue helicopter from the Air Force was piloted by a friend I had flown with in Florida, amazingly enough. But the very first rescue helo was a US Navy bird off our closest carrier.
Not much sleep . . . Young airman in my charge. Changing lines on maps, reflecting changes in force positions, and all very reminiscent of the last test exercise in intelligence school, the one with the Marine gunny sergeant on his reserve weekend playing with us.

And then another round robin on the edges of the coasts to get the party suits, to have the eel skin stuff sent back. . . So the next stop was a week playing with Japanese Self-Defense Force fighter pilots and a lot of debriefings with arguments that really just amounted to, "No. No. No! I shot YOU first." 

(You can just imagine, can't you?)

So I was a day and a half late getting to Komatsu, but in time for the welcome party, the trip to the 600 year old castle, to the village set up as if it was 300 years ago,

And not only were the plum trees blooming by then, but the cherry blossoms, too. Of COURSE. And little kami palaces and the voices of my children's Japanese ancestors whispered as I dozed off on the bus to the mountaintop radar site across from Vladivostok that I wouldn't see from the other side until 25 years later.

What views!

And more parties . . . Welcomes, farewells. And even honoring my children's shogun great uncle and his father-in-law and two cousins my kids' father had grown up with until he was seven in his grandfather's samurai shogun mansion.

Then flying home in the cabin of the combat transport Starlifter with an F-100 engine almost in my lap, Leaving an three in the afternoon and arriving in Anchorage at about 6 am earlier that same day or something. That International Dateline has a LOT to answer for.

Nodding and bowing and saying kamsamedah and arrigato the 123 or so of us, all out of sync and still having to recover, facing wives and families and kids.

But we were after all back home in Alaska and the ice was slowly breaking and melting, the snow being run up and turned out to the tops of the mountains and more green coming back.

Time to get ready for hunting and fishing and trapping. Again.

And flying

Memories we did and didn't talk about because the edges of the terrors of war are more unimaginable than you might think.

Then four guys almost made th summit of Denali and one fell to his death in the deep ice and snow. 

Oh, no . . . !

And then his first and only kid, a baby girl was born not long after . . . But there were two crashes in Alaska before we got to Korea and three after we returned. Two guys bookended the whole thing by ejecting from their aircraft and getting rescued, but all the rest bought the farm. Too many, too young . . . All in eighteen months. Saw my closest friend right before he went to fly . . . And two of the others, too.

I loved them all and still do.

(Thank you Lord for them and for all.)

Ghost riders in the sky on their chariots of fire.

You might think the northern lights would compensate for all that, but I am not always so sure.

(So good night Mrs Calabash, wherever you are.)

And oh, yeah.

Thanks for the memories, Bob.
 
(Please excuse the typos, Beloved. I'll do my best to fix them in the morning.)

OUR LADY OF THE HOLY CROSS ABBEY

Was so blessed to arrive at Holy Cross Abbey about 1:22 pm on Monday, March 15, 2016, and went right to the monastery chapel, so full of joy to be in the holy silence and beauty of the farm and grounds that I have been blessed to visit for nearly twent years. Just the release of leaving behind the city and the traffic, climbing over several of the Blue Ridge spines and curving down toward the Shenandoah Bridge . . . Then the hairpin turn toward the river. Full and steadily surging . . . Winding around past farmhouses and small manor houses, the road lined on one sir with woods, the other side with fields, some dotted with black angus cattle . . 

Thanking the Lord for the gift of the time and the pace . . . In the cloudy darkness of the chapel waiting for a afternoon prayers. . . 2 pm . . . The bells . . . The opening cry of. "O Lord make haste to help me . . . " 

Then to the bookstore . . . Br Christopher . . . a short and pleasant chat . . . A new icon and some stationery . . . then driving up to the Retreat House, signing in . . . bringing my stuff down to my room . . . Feeling safe and welcomed and at peace . . . And in the last few minutes before I had turned toward the Abbey after crossing the river, I heard the Lord say very distinctly, "I have some wonderful surprises for you!" 

He is so good and so wonderful! 

Then I walked back down to prayer at 5:30pm with two sweet friends . . . Then after a lovely supper was blessed to attend Compline at 7:30pm. 

I so love to hear Psalm 91 chanted . . . 

At dinner Br Vincent read to us about the symbolism of cathedral buildings and their spiritual significance in stone and concrete. A lovely dinner prepare by Lydia . . . Wonderful tomato based soup . . . A salad . . . Some turkey and ham lunch meat, tomatoes, dill pickles . . . Cookies, apples . . . Oranges. . . Fruit cake and flavored honey made by the monks . . . Tea . . . Herbal or not, hot chocolate . . . Coffee. . . . Such abundant hospitality. . . And the Retreat House tabby cat under a car in the driveway.

Then the first minute I sat down near the window my sweet friend Sara called me from The Secret Garden in Ouray, CO. What joy! 

And just finished talking to Krista, Seth and Jude, who are getting ready for bed. 

Jude said, "Grandma, your kid is tickling me!" 

Sweet, sweet dreams, Beloved. As ever, angels guard your rest.

ARE WE THERE YET?

Usually when you have to ask that, you aren't, of course. . . . so this is what happened to the best of my recollection:

On the evening of March 6th, Sunday, my sweet daughter got me up to the train station in Gainesville and the AMTRAK to DC was just a few minutes late . . . by about 9:20pm we were on our way. I had a little roomette sleeper and it was a different version than any I had traveled in previously. The conductor and the train car attendant were both very kind. Since I was very tired, I asked to have the bed made up and was asleep by 9:50pm.

As I have mentioned before, I love train travel, so was really looking forward to the overnight trip. The sounds and motions of life on the rails can trigger deep sleep and lots of joyful memories for me.

We were supposed to arrive at the Washington, D.C. Union Station around 9:30am. It is common for passenger trains to sometime have to stop along a siding and wait for faster freight trains to past. But all of a sudden a bit past midnight the train jolted to a stop and the top of my head clunked on the head board, my left knee and left hip got bumped into the little tray apparatus, and I came awake in an eerie stillness.

Only being able to see a bit of electric light on the edges of the roomette curtains, I groggily sat up and opened them. In a surreal kind of light I saw a small hillside with what seemed to be a matted straw lawn leading up to a house that had a roof reminiscent of Australian farm house roofs.

Some woods were visible either side of the house and lawn, all skeletal with leafless trees . . .dangling kudzu and other vines . . . a bit spooky and creepy. Every once in a while some guys with hard hats walked back and forth under the window and every once and a while the conductor and or the train car attendant walked purposefully past the outside of the door of my compartment.

I had the distinct impression of reflected images in wavering and kind of smoky light . . . and my imagination seemed fooled into seeing gryphons walking out of the woods and over to the door of the house. And I'm SURE that I was dreaming about the circus train wreck scene from The Greatest Show on Earth that great old circus movie with Charlton Heston and Jimmy Stewart . . . Betty Hutton, et al --

Sometimes the light wavered and there was also the sound of a freight train going by behind us.

I tried hard to stay awake until the train started moving again, but I'm really not sure how much I was awake and how much I was asleep until around 5am. Then I headed to breakfast around 6:30am,as soon as possible.

It was in the dining car that I heard the story of what had happened. Apparently an abandoned SUV was on the track and the train hit it. No one was hurt on the train and no one was in or around the car . . .

Report About Train Accident

First responders and news crews had been there, but they were on the side of the train that I couldn't see.

We got into Union Station on the most gorgeous spring day possible. A very kind Red Cap named Lance helped me get to the rental car desk and to my car. I was still kind of dreamy and semi-conscious . . . a bit dissociated, but I know my way around DC, having lived there for most of 17 years from the late 80s through the early years of this new millennium.

I drove to the Silver Diner in Clarendon and got some lunch, and then checked into my hotel in Arlington. Took a nap and then headed up to see a good fiend who lives in Takoma Park. We had dinner at a lovely Japanese restaurant and tried to see a movie, but it was horrible and we left early.

As we were walking to the parking deck, it seemed like my neck, shoulders, hip and knee were sore in a way that shouldn't have been since I had taken some pain meds for the fibromyalgia around 8:30pm. Knowing that sometimes symptoms of whiplash and soft tissue damage can show up even 24 hours after the trauma, I thought that might have been why.

After dropping my friend off, I thought the best move would be to stop at the Veterans Administration Medical Center and get checked out. So from about 10:30pm Monday night until 5:00am Tuesday morning,I was very well taken care of by the good and professional folks in the ER, in the CT scan office . . . etc.

They have these warm blankets and I felt very pampered. Always love being in the waiting room area with my fellow vets and family members.

The diagnosis was a slight concussion and some other slight bruises, etc. Wasn't supposed to be out in the sun much and supposed to rest. Since the funeral at Arlington National Cemetery was scheduled for 1 pm on Wednesday, I trusted I would have enough rest and some good food before that time.

Tried to make it to the family dinner at 7:30pm on Tuesday night, but laid down to rest for 45 minutes before getting ready for it. But after talking to my son-in-love Daniel and grandsons Seth and Jude around 6:00pm, I next opened my eyes around 8:10am.

That was a bit of a shock, and I was just hoping it wasn't Thursday instead of Wednesday.

It wasn't.

Then the rest of the day was beautiful and holy and memorable.

If you want to see a good film about Arlington, here is a URL for -- Gardens of Stone

So . . . that's the update, Beloved. Hope your days and weeks have been going well. May the Lord continue to bless and keep you and yours,