Thursday, April 25, 2013


Have I mentioned lately that I love Blogland?  When I started writing my blog three years ago, I had no idea how many people would read it.  No idea.   And I had no idea how many people I would fall in love with.  Sight unseen.  I often get emails from readers I don’t know who are lifting me up in prayer.  Just checking in with me.  Sending me gifts.  A few months back, I  received a pair of combat boots (with sprigs of fresh lavender tucked inside) from a girl who was moved by my blog when I wrote I needed to climb another mountain.  A chemo mountain.  She sent me her very own, worn-out, black leather combat boots that got her up and over walls.  Amazingly thoughtful.  

So it's within that spirit, that I have a favor to ask of you.

I recently learned of a couple from Wisconsin whose home burned down last week.  They literally lost everything.  Everything.  All of this on the heels of the wife battling lymphoma.  And their savings tapped out due to never-ending medical bills.  I received an email this week with a subject line that read, “help desperately needed.” It was from a friend of mine who's husband is a police officer.  The man who lost his home is the brother of one of his fellow officers. 

So when I thought about my blog, and the fact that over 2,000 people read it each month, I thought there must be a way we all could bless this couple tremendously.  Then I had a thought -- if we all chipped in $10, do you know how much money we could send them?  Drumroll.....$20,000!  How doable is that?!  

I could lie awake, night after night, thinking of ways to help people.  (Actually, I do).  And maybe like you, I have an insatiable appetite to help people.  Always have.  Hope that gene gets passed down to our kids (hopefully it will, as my husband has it too).   Love that this little blog could be used to bless a couple so desperately in need right now.   So what do you say?  Want to grab a check, write 10 bucks on it in the name of David and Deni Lunsman, and I’ll forward your kindness on to them?  If so, then email me at and I’ll give you my address.   And if you feel so inclined, include a scripture of hope for them too.   That, my friends, will be priceless to them too.

May the God of hope fill David and Deni with all joy and peace as they trust in Him, so that they may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.
Romans 15:13

Thursday, April 4, 2013


This is Creamy.  Well, her name started out as Eva when we rescued her five years ago.  Then we quickly changed it to Silks because she was so dang silky.  And then because she was more dreamy than silky, we again changed her name to Creamy.  And it stuck.

Creamy was my hands-down, all-time favorite cat.  And I've had a lot.  (But don't tell the other two I live with, by the way.)  But she literally could do no wrong.  She never scratched on our furniture.  She always used the litter box.  Her only downside was that she was way too needy.  She couldn't get enough of us.  In fact, for the last five years she has slept on my carotid artery each and every night.  Tonight will be the first night that I'll have a cold carotid artery.
This sweet little thing is in Heaven as of this morning.

We were told two months ago that because of her disease, she wouldn't be with us very much longer.  We all took that news really hard.  The family in which I live is a major cat family.  These things with long tails become family as soon as they they're brought home and put on our beds.  Yes, we all love sleeping with our cats.

Though this morning was one of the hardest things I've ever experienced (thankfully Ed was with me), my tears dry up a tad when I think back to one of the funniest stories about Creamy.  In fact, my daughter and I brought her to the vet last week before school, thinking that that was going to be her last day.  As we were driving and crying, I started telling Rachel this story and we were actually cracking up by the time we had arrived at the vet.

So about five years ago, I held a church retreat planning meeting at our house.  At the end of the night, all of the girls (about 10 of them) gathered in my family room to pray before they left.  I had already put all three of our cats into the laundry room, but someone said it was fine to let them out.  So I did.   As we bowed our heads and began to pray, I heard a bell from around one of the cat's neck as it entered the room.  I popped one eye open to see who it was.  It was Creamy.   She had then walked over toward me as I was sitting in the middle of the couch (surrounded by two other girls) and I had again opened one eye to see where she was.  She was sitting on the girl's lap to the left of me getting petted.  I smiled and closed my eyes and continued listening as someone was praying. Just then, I heard it.  You know that sound right before an animal throws up.  Well, Creamy started making that sound, and before I knew it, she had thrown up all over the girl's WHITE jeans and my couch.  I about died!   So I grabbed the cat, ran back into the laundry room, closed the door and didn't want to come out.  I was laughing hysterically.  Out of sheer embarassment.  As I mustered up the courage to go back in there, those prayer warriors (including the girl who had just gotten thrown up on) continued praying as if nothing had happened.  I stood behind the couch (pretending to pray) and just bit the inside of my cheeks so I woudn't laugh again.  The smell was horrific and I was concerned that the vomit would stain my couch if it wasn't cleaned up immediately.  But they kept praying!  Isn't it terrible where my mind goes?!  Well, the end of the story is that the following week, the girl told me that after she had arrived home, she took off her jeans in the garage to put them in the washing machine.  When she entered the house with just her underwear on, her husband was like, "Hey, if this is how you look after those retreat meetings, keep going to them!"  

I keep thinking I'll look over from my desk and see her scratching on her favorite scratching post or that she'll jump up and sit beside me while I type.  Aint gonna happen.  But I take comfort knowing that this sweet little thing is no longer in pain.  And that she's getting petted from the sweetest Hand there is.

Good-bye my Sweet Cream.

P.S.  I hesitated writing this blog as I hate to make you guys cry.  But you know me, when I'm inspired, I've got to write.