He Loved Me to Death

God gazed from heaven upon the earth

Through tears of remorse and disbelief,

His heart was pierced by transgressions of man

And was broken by sorrow and grief.

He cried to His Son, “What shall I do?

My children can’t go on like this,

For when it comes time for them to die,

My kingdom, they will surely miss.”

So, Father and Son both lovingly agreed

As they fathomed what must be done;

In order to save all the world from sin,

The Father must send down His Son.

So, Jesus came down as a tiny babe,

God’s perfect, loving gift to mankind;

In hopes that one day His words they would heed

And their eyes would no longer be blind.

Jesus was tender, so patient and kind

As He spoke of His Father’s love;

But many were they that refused to believe

That He was God’s Son from above.

After years of teaching and healing the sick,

The Savior’s hour had finally drawn near;

Fo the time had come, God’s will to be done,

Though the cup brought forth bitter tears.

He willingly gave His life on the cross

And bore much suffering, sin, and shame,

But many today still don’t understand

That is the reason He came.

But I believe with all of my heart

And want to give the Savior my best;

 It was for me that He shed His precious blood

For you see, He loved me to death.

Sandi

Broken Wings and Crooked Halos

I avoid calling myself a Christian these days

I’ve had to work too hard at trying to be one

Just when I thought I finally was one

I’d lose my temper

Fly into a fit of rage

Do and say un-Christian stuff

Feel guilty

Beat myself up

Get depressed

A never-ending cycle of madness

Sick to death of it all

I looked deep inside

Through all the muck and mire

Of judgment and ridicule

Of pride and self-righteousness

Of fake joy and happiness

And faced the stark reality

That I wasn’t a Christian

I was a broken mess

Just like all the other wanna-be Christians

Sitting in their padded pews

With their broken wings

And crooked halos

Finally

I called on God to fix me

To change me

To free me

To wash me clean

And He did

Now

I’m just a sinner saved by Grace

Free from the chains of religion

Of having to keep my halo straight

Of pretending to be something I’m not

Free to just be myself

While striving to be more like Him

 ~ Sandi

Fixer No More

As a committed Follower

I thought God expected me to fix things

Broken hearts

Broken relationships

Broken lives

Broken anything that was still breathing

But when I couldn’t

I’d sink into a slimy pit of depression

Where I became more broken

Than the ones I was trying to fix

Again and again

I’d try

Again and again

I’d fail

Till one day

Weary to the bone

God opened my eyes

And told me loud and clear

That those lofty expectations were not His

That He never gave me the authority to play God

And that He is the only One who can fix

All the brokenness in the world

What a relief to be rid of that cumbersome burden

To turn it all over to God

To let Him handle it from now on

What a relief to know that

All the brokenness I failed to fix

Is in His Mighty hands

I no longer have to worry about it

Never

Ever again

~ Sandi

Hope at the End of the Rainbow

Bludgeoned by sorrow and grief

My heart was mangled and bleeding

 No one could fix it

No one could ease the piercing pain

Comfort my soul

Calm my fears

No one could deliver hope for today

For tomorrow

Or ever

Then after the pouring rain

God appeared to me in a rainbow

Reminding me of His promises

His love and faithfulness

His ever-present nearness

His healing touch

 And in that moment

Hope was restored

And my battered heart began to heal

~ Sandi

Nothing

As a child, I would lay in my bed, stare into the blackness and think scary things, like monsters being under my bed, or ghosts hiding in my closet or little men with knives crawling through my windows. But the most frightening of all was when the darkness transformed into a gigantic scary monster of nothingness. Total void and emptiness. No beginning and no end. No God. No heaven. No earth. No life. Nothing! And I’d cry till my crying became sobs.

Panicky, mom would rush to my side and ask what was wrong, but as hard as I tried, I couldn’t explain it to her. I didn’t know how to tell her that my mind had spiraled down a deep black hole of fear and despair; a bottomless pit of absolute nothingness.

Frustrated, mom would leave me, still crying, still consumed by the void and emptiness.

Then, through the oppressive darkness of my mind, I saw a soft glow and I knew God was there. Hope began trickling through my veins, the darkness dwindled and I drifted into a peaceful sleep.

Even today it is difficult to explain what I often felt as a child, especially in the oppressive darkness at bedtime. But I can tell you clearly that I am so thankful that my mother taught me that there is a God and that she took me to Sunday School where I learned more about Him and His awesome, unfailing love for me. I’m thankful that I learned to believe and trust in Him and that He has the power to dispel the darkness that often overtakes me. Most of all I am thankful that because of God, the Author of life and Creator of all things, the feelings of nothingness are mere ashes in the wind.

The Downside of Getting Old

old-people-4

Not only is it inconvenient

Old age comes at a bad time

With little or no benefits

And lots of aches and pains

Doctor’s appointments

And drugs

And BenGay

And laxatives

Most of our friends are either dead

Or in nursing homes

Or just don’t remember us

Teenagers think we’re from another planet

Middle-aged people wish we were on another planet

And the rest of society just doesn’t care

Bit by bit we lose our independence

Our eyesight

Our hearing

Our mind

We pine for the good old days

Pray for another day

And hope to get through the day

But I’m thankful that I’ve lived this long

I really am

I just wish I could have done it

Without getting old

~ Sandi

Paw Prints

Bella Rae

Bella Rae

We’ve never owned a dog like her before

And it’s a wee bit nerve-wracking

Okay it’s a whole bunch nerve-wracking

She’s feisty

Sassy

Strong-willed

Like me

But she’s a dog

And I’m the boss

She’s supposed to listen

When I tell her no

To get in her bed

To pee and poop outside

To stop jumping on the furniture

And charging through the house

And bouncing around like a kangaroo

To stop biting

And scratching

And licking

That constant licking of herself

Like a cat

Lick

Lick

Lick

And she snores

And she farts

And she eats like a pig

  We’re old people

We like things calm and quiet

We like a clean smelling house

Pee-stained-free carpet

And slobber-less tile floors

At least she’s potty trained now

I thought

Till this morning

When she peed and pooped in the living room

And threw up in my bedroom

 I wanted to wring her little neck

Take her back to the pound

And bring home a droopy-eyed over-the-hill bloodhound

But I cleaned up the mess instead

Because I love her

Because she brings more joy than chaos

Because she has left paw prints on my heart

Forever

~ Sandi

Dee Dee Voltron

voltron

When I’m jogging I’m thinking. Thinking about the good old days. Thinking about the movie I watched last night. Thinking about soaking my feet when I get home. Thinking, thinking, thinking. Sometimes I’m in such deep thought that I can’t remember jogging up the hill I just came down. Now that’s scary!

Today I thought about Brandon, my first grandchild and how he picked out names to call all his grandparents, except for me. For some reason, he couldn’t decide on a name for me. Maybe, because I was the youngest, in his mind I didn’t fit the typical granny image. Maybe he just couldn’t figure me out, I don’t know. Whatever his reasons, he didn’t have an endearing, grandmotherly name for me.

Then, one Sunday afternoon my daughter-in-law smiled and said, “Brandon’s picked out a name for you. It’s Dee Dee. He was trying to say Sandi but it came out Dee Dee instead.”

“Well okay then. Dee Dee, it is.”

Brandon loved for me to tell him stories. In the car, at the mall, in the grocery store, on the porch swing . . . everywhere! All I’d hear is,”Tell me a story, Dee Dee! Tell me a story!”

Now, there’s just so many stories a granny can make up about the two of us riding on Mrs. Eagle’s back over the highest mountains or talking to Mr. Tree in the enchanted forest or creeping into a really dark, really spooky house deep in the woods. But if I didn’t make up something he’d drive me crazy until I did. That’s the way it works for those of you who haven’t figured it out yet. 

His most favorite story was when the two of us teamed up with Voltron and battled all the bad guys. We’d wield our shiny swords, conjure up our magic powers and fight till the bitter end. Then, we’d crawl into a cave where we’d regroup and strategize our next sneak attack.

 Suddenly, in Brandon’s eyes, Voltron was no longer a plastic action figure. Voltron was me, his hero, the one who came to his rescue, who bandaged his wounds and killed all the bad guys. Never again would I be just plain old Dee Dee. I was Immortal. I was invincible. I was Dee Dee Voltron!

And after all those battles I had to fight, and all those stories I had to conjure up, I earned that title and wore it well . . . at least in Brandon’s eyes.

Brandon’s now grown with a family of his own. And, although he no longer begs me to tell him stories, he remembers them all so well and still fondly refers to me as “Dee Dee Voltron!”

Be Your Own Cheerleader!

cheer

Dragging my exhausted, sweaty body through the front door, I excitedly told hubby, who’s still laying in bed, that I jogged an hour and a half!

Barely raising his head off the pillow he murmured,”That’s good.”

That’s good? I felt like jerking him out of bed! If he only knew how my feet burned the entire time and how difficult the hills were and how many times I just wanted to stop!

Disappointed in his half-hearted response I started a much-needed  shower. Then, as if he had cleaned the entire house and mowed the lawn, hubby yelled from the bed, “I cleaned the commode!”

Sometimes we have to be our own cheering section. Not everyone is going to jump up and down for our accomplishments. Not everyone is going to share our enthusiasm. And if that’s the only reason we do something, then we’re doing it for the wrong reason.

And to let hubby off the hook, he is my biggest fan, he just doesn’t always cheer as loud as I’d like him to.

Gone, But Not Forgotten

rascal-3

As we stood looking down at him

Laying on the cold stark table

Our hearts were broken-in-two

In spite of all our efforts to save him

From the monster invading his body

The heart-wrenching moment came

To say our last good-byes

To kneel by his freshly dug grave

To mourn for him

To miss petting him

To miss walking him

To miss playing with him

To miss cuddling with him

To miss the most loving

Most gentle

Most forgiving

Most beautiful friend we ever had

Now

Two months later

We still miss him

We still grieve for him

But we will never forget him