James

The latest update is that the urine is flowing backwards and is being retained.

They want to do another test in radiology before making a firm decision.

At least it’s be another night in the hospital hooked up to an antibiotic IV– or the worse case it will be surgery.

The doctors have all commented that they’ve never seen a newborn so tough– did not cry for the spinal tap nor with the catheter for the CT scan– now if all his adults can hold it together!!

Thank you all for your continued prayers

update on James

First…I want to thank each of you from the bottom of my heart for your continued prayers
for this newest family member of ours.

My husband and I had thought to steal away for a few days while our son is still on paternity leave—
because once he heads back to work, I’ll head back to Atlanta in order to help out.

Throw in a cat (Percy) who will have a joint fusion surgery the first of June,
and time is nowhere near on my side.

We had only been at our beach destination a few hours when we got the call
from our son that they had raced 3-week old baby James to the ER due to an out of the blue high fever.

The Children’s hospital began running a myriad of tests including a spinal tap and an ultrasound
on his kidneys.
His white blood cell count was high.

They are currently treating him with antibiotics through an IV for a urinary infection with
the concern that he might have something known as urine reflux–where the urine flows back into
the body…
Tomorrow they will conduct a dye test in order to monitor the flow.

Remember he was born with what is thought to be a skewed urethra and so his circumcision is
going to have to be delayed….
this new caveat may or may not necessitate some sort of faster action.

They’re hoping he can be released by Saturday.

Meanwhile, we drove nearly a 10-hour roundabout way from Florida to Atlanta back
to Carrollton.
We drove to Atlanta to pick up Autumn (aka The Mayor) visited with our son while
he and our daughter-n-law are tag-teaming time at the hospital.

Did I mention the gas leak?

We were up visiting Sunday. Our daughter-n-law kept telling us she smelled gas.
My husband and son scoured the basement but couldn’t really detect much of an odor
but we did catch a whiff now and then.

We called GA Nat Ga and they sent out a technician.
He did find a small leak leading to the hot water heater from a pipe that
had bowed over time.
He fixed it.

Then as soon as we had left on our trip, they called up saying the smell was stronger.
Another call and another technician found a larger leak.
The gas was cut off to the house which now means no hot water.

So a different plumbing technician has to come out this evening while either our
son or daughter-n-law is home from the hospital.

And so while the Mayor is non-stop and is here with two exhausted old people, I’ll
be a little slow to respond to all of the kind words offered our way…of which mean
so very much—a community of prayer warriors has blessed us beyond measure.

Prayers for little James

We got away yesterday for a few days but received one of those in the middle of the night calls– our son had to rush 3 week old James to the hospital with a high fever.

They’re running tests and admitted him.

We are 5 hours away but packing up to head to them.

Please say a prayer for our small family

“If you deny me before men, I will deny you before my Father”

But whoever denies and disowns Me before men,
I also will deny and disown him before My Father Who is in heaven.

Matthew 10:33

According to Wikipedia the story behind today’s image:
The Light of the World (1851–53) is an allegorical painting by the
English Pre-Raphaelite artist William Holman Hunt (1827–1910)
representing the figure of Jesus preparing to knock on an overgrown and
long-unopened door, illustrating Revelation 3:20:
“Behold, I stand at the door and knock; if any man hear My voice, and open the door,
I will come in to him, and will sup with him, and he with Me”.
According to Hunt: “I painted the picture with what I thought,
unworthy though I was, to be by Divine command, and not simply as a good Subject.”
The door in the painting has no handle, and can, therefore, be opened only from the inside,
representing “the obstinately shut mind”. Hunt, 50 years after painting it,
felt he had to explain the symbolism.

The original is variously said to have been painted at night in a makeshift hut at
Worcester Park Farm in Surrey and in the garden of the Oxford University Press
while it is suggested that Hunt found the dawn light he needed outside Bethlehem
on one of his visits to the Holy Land.
In oil on canvas, it was begun around 1849/50, completed in 1853,
exhibited at the Royal Academy in 1854 and is now in a side room off the large chapel at Keble College, Oxford.

I saw this particular painting posted on our dear friend Bishop Gavin Ashenden’s blog
posting from yesterday.
He included it because he had uploaded a brief (approximately 4-minute) interview with a
British journalist stating why it was wrong that St Matthew’s and Luke’s Chruch in Darlington,
the Diocese of Durham in the UK, had offered to cover its altar cross and replica of this painting,
when it had decided to invite local Muslims to come in and worship in the sanctuary
following the end of Ramadan.

The interview is here:

Nick Ferrari graciously apologises- ‘The Truth matters’. LBC radio:- Nick Ferrari asks Gavin Ashenden why it matters that the C of E covered crosses & hid Jesus- & gracioiusly apologises when he finds out. The difference between the God of Islam & the God of Christianity is at stake & is crucial.

I touched on this same matter last week when the good Bishop was interviewed on Anglican Unscripted
regarding this rather bizarre gesture.

Isn’t that just like the Christian Chruch today???
A church wanting so desperately to appease and to appear inviting and hospitable by demonstrating
its all-inclusiveness, all the while, denying the very One who she claims as her Bridegroom.

A skewed thought process indeed.
For in its zeal of promoting the peace of one accord and good gestures,
the Church’s leadership’s ignorance shines forth.

I applaud the journalist, Nick Ferrari, for actually admitting at the interview’s end
that he had indeed been wrong when he felt that he should actually support the vicar of this parish
for opening the doors of her church to their Muslim neighbors.

To open a parish hall or to host an interfaith gathering in a neutral location is one thing,
but to offer up the Sanctuary, the place considered to be the most sacred within
a church, reminiscent of the Holies of Holy, by covering up the cross and images of Jesus,
is a venture into lunacy.

I dare say no Iman would allow any mosque to ever hide the Koran lest any Christians
venture forth.

We seem to have a great desire to rush in and show ourselves to be all-inclusive…
to show the world that we are open-minded and kind…
yet we do ourselves and our faith a great disservice when we do so
with little, if any regard, to the very teachings of Christ…
the very teachings we are expected to uphold.

Jesus never said to be unkind or inhospitable, but he also never said to hide one’s faith in Him or
pretend that, as the risen Savior, He isn’t intended for all mankind…
mankind includes Muslims, Jews, atheists, you name it…
He came into the world to save sinners…and that pretty much covers all of mankind.
It is, therefore, our responsibility to share that fact with all of those whose paths we cross.

We share hope and salvation to and for all…for anyone willing to accept and in turn follow.

We are told time and time again not to hide our faith or the Truth but to share it.

A light is not meant to be put under a basket, but rather upon a table permitting
all to see.
(Matthew 5:15-16)

Some of the Pharisees in the crowd said to Jesus, “Teacher, rebuke your disciples!”
“I tell you,” he replied, “if they keep quiet, the stones will cry out.”

Luke 19:39-40

Be kind, be gracious but never deny your Lord before any man.
Never attempt to hide Him, mask Him or disguise Him…
but rather let the light of Redemption and Salvation shine forth.

In 2015 21 Coptic Christians were marched out on to a beach in Lebanon and were
offered the chance to be spared from the fate of beheading if they would simply deny Christ
and embrace Mohammad—-the answer was no.

Even unto death…
We are told, you and I who follow Christ, we are told to follow Him even unto death.

We know that death, in this life, is not everlasting…not for the followers of Christ.

For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this is not from yourselves,
it is the gift of God— 9 not by works, so that no one can boast.
For we are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works,
which God prepared in advance for us to do.

Ephesians 2:8-10

God’s love

“I have been all things unholy;
if God can work through me, He can work through anyone.”

St. Francis of Assisi


(Mother’s roses are blooming / Julie Cook / 2019)

“On the whole, God’s love for us is a much safer subject to think about than our love for Him.
Nobody can always have devout feelings: and even if we could,
feelings are not what God principally cares about.
Christian Love, either towards God or towards man, is an affair of the will.
If we are trying to do His will we are obeying the commandment,
‘Thou shalt love the Lord thy God.’
He will give us feelings of love if He pleases.
We cannot create them for ourselves, and we must not demand them as a right.
But the great thing to remember is that, though our feelings come and go,
His love for us does not.
It is not wearied by our sins, or our indifference;
and, therefore, it is quite relentless in its determination that we shall be cured of those sins,
at whatever cost to us, at whatever cost to Him.”

C. S. Lewis, p. 132
An Excerpt From
Mere Christianity

How do I contact you in Heaven?

If you tell God no because He won’t explain the reason He wants you to do
something, you are actually hindering His blessing.
But when you say yes to Him, all of heaven opens to pour out His
goodness and reward your obedience.
What matters more than material blessings are the things
He is teaching us in our spirit.

Charles Stanley


(my godpoppa and me on the day of my wedding–with Mother looking on,
he was the priest who presided over my wedding in 1983)

I use to write letters.

Real letters with a real pen and real paper.

Real words.

Real scratched out mistakes.

Numerous misspellings.
Typos.
Grammatical errors.

There was no spell check—only a dictionary.

Sometimes your letters were typed, sometimes written by hand.

Mine were always by hand.

I use to write you so many letters.

You use to write to me as well.

I still have a box with so many of those letters and cards.

If the truth be told, we really meet through a letter, you and me.
In 1975.

I still have the card you sent.

When I went away to college, I use to sit at the bus stop writing feverishly before the bus arrived,
whisking me off to yet another class miles across campus.

I’d sit in the park, back propped against an ancient oak tree, writing.

I sat up late on the night before my wedding, writing.

We wrote one another long before there were computers…
ages before there was texting.

We wrote on paper and cards.
We put stamps on envelopes and we put letters in a post box.

We would each excitedly spot that telltale script…written and addressed
with our name—
it would arrive in the day’s mail.

I checked my box at least twice a day.

Wonderment and even excitement filled our thoughts.

We’d each steal away…to a quiet private place as we’d tear open the postmarked envelope.
Savoring the “Dearest Jules” or the ‘Dearest Godpoppa”

Apprehensive and anticipatory wonder mixed with anxiousness…
coupled with a deep sense of joy…
accompanied the arrival of each letter and every card.

What was the word?
What was the news?
What was the need?
What was the advice?

We wrote for nearly 40 years…back and forth…just you and me.

The subject matter growing often hard and difficult with time.

Those letters…the writing and the receiving.
The intimate words shared between a surrogate father and his adopted goddaughter.

The pouring out of the most sacred and secretive thoughts from the novice to the wizened
sage.

Confessions.
Encouragement.
Idle chatter.
Hope.
Love.
Compassion.
Warnings.
Advice.

You were born in 1922
You were adopted in 1923.
I was born in 1959
I was adopted in 1960

Lessons taught and lessons learned.

And yet now, now when I need to hear from you the most, how do I write to Heaven?
How do I address such a letter?
What would you tell me now…how do I proceed?
What should I do?
What would you say?

I’ll be waiting…and I’ll be listening.
Somehow I know you know.

“Out of the heavens He let you hear His voice to discipline you;
and on earth He let you see His great fire, and you heard His words from the midst of the fire.

Deuteronomy 4:36

I think we could have been friends…and I do have some really nice lamps

That piece of paper changed your child’s legal parents,
but did nothing to alter their DNA.

Adoption and Birth Mothers

All my life I’ve looked into a mirror and wondered…
I’ve wondered who it is that has made the face that looks back at me.

Being adopted one wonders such things.

I turn 60 this year and I still look and wonder.

Whose eyes
Whose mouth.
Whose hair.
Whose lack of eyebrows.

When I first started blogging, this was one of the topics that I would often touch upon because
it was very much a part of who I was…who I am.

I am adopted.
Born in 1959.
Adopted in 1960.

Back at the first of the year I finally decided to do one those popular DNA tests.

My physician and I got to talking about my unknown medical history…as we keep
having little surprises…
What of my son and his medical surprises and that of my new grandchildren??
Plus I had a dear friend in Colorado who had just met her own birth mother…
What did I have to lose right?

As I mentioned, I had grandchildren now and I very much wanted for them to know this
“secretive” past of mine.
I wanted /want for them to know their genealogy, their origins, just as I want them to know their
medical history…just as I want this for my son.

As of now, I have three blood relatives…my son and my two grandchildren.

I was a history major for heaven’s sake!
History is so keenly important to me…and yet I don’t know my own history.
How pathetic is that?

I have been the unofficial keeper of my family’s genealogy…but the fact of the matter is…
this is not really MY family’s history.
I feel like a specter on someone else’s tree.

Adoption is an integral part of who I am and an integral part of my DNA.
Whether I want to admit it or not, it is the fact of who I am.

I recently stumbled upon a website written by a birth mother, who had given up
her child and her current quest is to dispell misconceptions and set the
facts straight.

Some of her words pierced directly through my heart…

“It’s natural and normal to need to know where you come from and how your child is.
It’s human nature and the fact that your adopted child
has searched for you is a testament that they are actually quite normal.”

The adoptee has a RIGHT to know where they come from.
No adoptee should not have to be a banned as a dirty little secret their whole life.
No one should have to have their very existence denied to protect another’s feelings,
even their own mothers.

It doesn’t matter that you view them as a stranger now,
they were not meant to be strangers, they were not strangers, your child is not a stranger!
You are still the only person in this universe that created this human who dares
to want to talk to you.
You have a moral responsibility to BE there for your adoptee.
Mothers DO for our children.

We are supposed to provide unconditional love for them.
That is our job and the relinquishment was not a discharge from service.

Adoption and Birth Mothers

This is just a small piece to a long story.
60 years worth of a story I suppose.

Just suffice it to know that I received some disheartening news today
regarding my birth mother.

She is still alive and is 83 years young.

I’ll put all of this together into a more coherent post soon, but for now,
my emotions are simply running quite raw.

They say that children who are given up for adoption have a lifelong battle with rejection.

Should that adult child ever find their birth mother and she, though a lawyer,
states that there is to never be any sort of contact as this is a “matter” of the past and
it is in the past that it is to remain…
well, then that becomes a matter of double rejection.

Why does having a lawyer these days seem to be the definitive answer to everything?
Rather than a “by God, this is the way it is”—rather now it is “by the words of this
specific legal eagle, this’ is the end of things, capiche?
Because if not, you will be hit with some sort of legal nightmare.

I sat with tears streaming down my face this afternoon looking at a lamp that was my grandmothers.
It is indeed a fine lamp.
A beautifully old lamp.
A coveted lamp by the lamp shop who repaired it.

I have some nice things…
I don’t want your nice things.

It is not a matter of my wanting anything from someone.
I am happy, comfortable and not lacking.
There should not be a fear of some sort of monetary want.
There should not be a fear of a knock on the door and the desire for
the need of a mother.
There is no desire to rock your neat and tidy world.

There are only questions and a desire for answers.
Like where in the heck did the lack of these lips come from?

I am a nice person.
I would be a good friend.
But yet you’ve opted not to know about that.
And you said so through a lawyer.
And for that, I am sorry.

Men who live far away will come and help to rebuild the Temple of the Lord.
And when it is rebuilt, you will know that the Lord Almighty sent me to you.
This will all happen if you fully obey the commands of the Lord your God.

Zechariah 6:15