My Parents are Crazier Than Yours

by Joanie Butman

Public humiliation isn’t confined to parents. Children suffer from the same malaise – probably even more so. No child wants to see a parent’s poor choices advertised in the local paper any more than their parents want to see their children’s mistakes in print – unless, of course, kids consider it a public validation of something they’ve known all along; namely, the insanity of their parent(s).

If you think comparisons are rampant amongst parents, teens are just as brutal when evaluating their parents. Every parent has a ‘reputation.’ It’s taken me years to build mine!! I’m not sure everyone’s children find their parents as embarrassing as mine do, or whether it’s just a talent at which my husband and I happen to excel. Granted, I do nothing to dispel my own ‘crazy’ image. I’ve found it works to my benefit to keep them guessing as to what I ‘might’ do. They know what I’m capable of so their fear isn’t totally unjustified. Okay, so I tracked down the boy who brought my daughter home with hickeys all over her neck and offered him a ring pop to suck on next time. Maybe I mistakenly sent an email calling my son’s coach a pompous ass to said coach, rather than to my husband, getting our son kicked off the team – until my husband intervened. So what if I drove them to school in my pink leopard robe until they were able to drive themselves. We all have issues.

Whenever my daughter wanted to push my buttons, she’d throw out, “Why can’t you be more like Mrs. So-and-so?” Mrs. So-and-so was the perfectly coiffed, always calm, always smiling Donna Reed that brought in cupcakes from scratch. The one I wanted to maim. The only saving grace is her children were perfect mini versions of her, so I could respond to my daughter in kind: “I’ll tell you what. When you become more like So-and-so, Jr., I’ll be more like her mom! Like it or not, we are stuck with each other darling. And by the way, Mrs. So-and-so would have sent you off to a convent after the hickey incident.”

I remember driving home after a Halloween party at my son’s school where I was the only mom who arrived in costume every year. He said, “Mom, I’ve got a great idea for your costume for next year. Why don’t you dress up as a mom like everyone else?” Shocked, I replied, “That’s so boring! And you should know by now I don’t do like everyone else.” He stopped inviting me. Spoilsport!

Our one disastrous family therapy session, when my kids were fighting incessantly, confirmed (or so they told me) their initial assessment of me. We were each interviewed privately and on the way home I asked what the therapist said to them. In unison from the backseat they replied, “He said you were crazy.” At least they had finally found something on which they could agree. I promptly called for a refund.

Seriously, giving birth doesn’t cure you of any personality defects. If anything, it tends to exacerbate them as the pressures of parenthood mount. Human beings are flawed. On that, I think we can all agree. Yet, how we choose to face our flaws and mistakes offers valuable life lessons for our children. Do we choose to hold ourselves accountable or do we try to excuse our behavior blaming others for our own transgressions? Do we choose to accept the consequences of our actions with humility or try to weasel out of the penalties? Do we choose to make the effort to correct damaging habits? Do we choose to seek or offer forgiveness?

The responsibility for good modeling in these situations might be daunting for some, but making mistakes is my forte so I’ve had to practice recouping from them more often than I care to admit. I haven’t made it into the police blotter yet, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t deserved to at times. What was it John Bradford said, “There but for the grace of God go I.” Why I consider the police blotter some kind of moral barometer indicating an imaginary line I’d rather not cross is one of my own personality defects. I’m working on it.

When I think of the cautionary advice that your children will eventually end up doing what you do, not what you say, I am both terrified and comforted. First, my examples have not always been the wisest choices. However, despite my litany of social gaffes and parenting debacles, the strength and consistency of my faith is probably the wisest choice and best example I could set for my children.  Even though they found my ‘church lady’ writing even more embarrassing than my pink leopard robe, I believe at some point they may appreciate my stories and my willingness to be open and honest in an effort to encourage others to do the same. I hope my writing will illustrate that people of faith make the same poor choices as everyone else. We don’t have faith because we think we’re perfect. Quite the opposite; it’s because we recognize how imperfect we are and how badly we need a Savior.

In that regard, I can only pray my children choose to do what I do and develop their own faith to help them in the event they decide to imitate any of my more impulsive tendencies. They will need it – as I do, every minute of every day.

P.S. For those of you still deep in the trenches of parenthood, you might want to listen to Brene Brown's, The Gifts of Imperfect Parenting. Brown claims, "It's actually our ability to embrace imperfection that will help us teach our children to have the courage to be authentic, the compassion to love themselves and others, and the sense of connection that gives true purpose and meaning to life. Dr. Brown proposes that the greatest challenge of wholehearted parenting is being the adult that we want our children to grow up to be." 

Save Me from Myself

by Joanie Butman

As a follow-up to last week’s discussion of parents looking to their children for genetic affirmation, I’d be remiss not to point out the failed logic of that belief. Here’s the problem with that reasoning. If entrance into a “name brand” school illustrates your excellence in parenting, then less than stellar academic success must mean that the rest of us are somehow lacking in our ability to produce prodigies. Sorry, I’m not buying either one – that the school my child goes to reflects my parenting or that the self-worth of kids not attending elite schools is less than those who do.

Let’s take it one step further. Wouldn’t that rationale also suggest that our children’s mistakes are a reflection of our parenting skills or lack thereof? Nothing could be further from the truth in either instance. First off, if gaining entrance into a good school is attributed to the parents, it diminishes the child’s accomplishments and the hard work it took to achieve it. As far as being held responsible for the choices our children make, I have only one thing to say. Good kids sometimes make bad choices, as do good parents. If you don’t think so, you are setting yourself up for a big fall. We are all just one phone call away from the police blotter. Your assessment of your child-rearing skills could blow up in an instance, whether it is a rejection from Harvard or a call from the police.

We’ve all been given the ability to make our own choices, but with that freedom comes the responsibility of being held accountable for them as well. This holds true for parents and children alike. Too many parents fall victim to the false presumption that it is somehow their fault if their children make bad choices, which opens a door for shame to settle in. It might be a perfectly normal emotion, but it is also perfectly useless. I’m not advocating putting a window decal on your car of the rehab facility your child is in, but I am saying that shame isolates you from the very people who can comfort you – those who have been down the same road. There is an old Chinese proverb that states, “To know the road ahead, ask those coming back.”

I have a friend who holds a prestigious, high-profile job and a child who has faced some difficult issues. Many in the community hold this person to a higher standard, as he once did himself. When he got blind-sided by life, as so many of us do, he didn’t release a public service announcement, but he didn’t try to hide it either. I believe his authenticity and openness in regard to the problem did what any testimony does. It reduces everyone to a common denominator – life. You never know when it will be you. No one is immune to the vagaries of life. By keeping the issue hidden, it holds enormous power over you. Being open and honest about it releases that power and allows it to encourage others. I believe his experience made him better at what he does in every aspect. Sure, there will always be those who make judgments, but that’s their choice.

I believe the epitome of good parenting is choosing to recognize and help your children determine and access whatever they need to mature and develop into responsible members of society, which is going to be different for each child even within the same family. If that means helping them achieve their dream to attend an Ivy League school, great – as long as it’s their dream and not yours. On the other hand, if that means ensuring they get the best support available to overcome a learning disability, a physical disability, a psychological disability, or an unhealthy dependency – there’s no difference. It shouldn’t be a source of embarrassment. If your child had a life-threatening illness, you wouldn’t hesitate to do everything in your power to get them whatever was needed to save them, right? And you wouldn’t be ashamed of it. In fact, you’d probably be enlisting the aid of anyone in a position to help. Why is there such a social stigma involved in some forms of ‘help’ as opposed to others?

There is no denying that when your child makes poor choices publicly it is difficult, if not impossible, not to feel judged – especially because there will always be those who believe their kids would never do anything like that and don’t mind expressing that opinion. Those comparisons start in the nursery. Here’s my response and the only parenting advice I’ve ever felt qualified to offer: never say never. As one mom describes her experience, “You just want to climb under the covers. I had to face it in people’s faces over and over again. The incidences were minor in impact (only hurt themselves) but can't tell you how many times people refer to each incidence. It makes them feel better about their kids and parenting.”  Bingo! That just reminds me once again about the importance of having a support network of friends to whom you can safely reach out to for comfort and encouragement.

A sad but true reality is that often as parents our job is simply saving our children from themselves. It starts at birth and is relatively easy until adolescence, when they start exercising their free will in ways that challenge our authority, values and wisdom. I am living testimony to that fact and also to the truth that the poor choices I made in my youth were no reflection of my parents. If that were the case, why didn’t my siblings do the same? No, I take full responsibility for whatever choices I made.

I didn’t recognize it then, but in hindsight I thank God for being the perfect parent and never losing sight of me. He repeatedly saved me from myself during those years. He didn’t save me from the consequences, but He made sure they weren’t permanent. It’s the only explanation for my survival. He continues to save me from myself today in so many ways. As Michael Smith reminds me, 

You save me

Save me from myself

There is no one else

I'd lean on

Save me

You save me from myself

There is no one else that sets me free

Just as my parents did for me during my tumultuous teenage years (and continue to do so), I choose to pray not only for my own children but also for those of my friends. A dear friend recently shared how blessed she feels when she knows people are praying on the behalf of her children. I know God doesn’t need reminding to watch over our children; they’re His kids first. However, by choosing to pray, I am reminded of Hissovereignty AND Hispromise that He can take the worst situation and use it for good. That is the power of prayer.

Plus, if you are seeking someone with experience with a rebellious child, God’s your guy. He’s been dealing with rebellion for thousands of years. He’s watched His kids make every stupid decision known to man. I have to think that at some point He must have seriously reconsidered His choice to grant us free will. He watched His own son suffer horribly, but used that pain to save the rest of us. Yes, I’d say He’s the perfect choice when looking for comfort, compassion and guidance - not only in regard to parenting, but in any situation.

My V.I.Peep

by Joanie Butman

Daylight saving time marks the onset of my annual winter hibernation. Like someone preparing for a siege, I’ve got a stack of books, plenty of wood and a comfortable chair waiting by the fireplace. During the spring and summer I feel guilty if I’m not out taking advantage of the beautiful weather in some way. However, winter’s frigid temperatures and shortened daylight hours afford me the opportunity for plenty of cozy time reading by the fire, eating comfort food and drinking copious amounts of hot chocolate.

This year there’s an even more compelling reason for retreating to my safe haven by the fire. As the mother of a high school senior, college insanity is at fever pitch. I don’t know the solution to the manic intensity that surrounds the college application process, but I’m relieved this is the last time I need to be involved. Then again, you don’t necessarily need to have a senior to be affected by the college buzz about town, it’s pervasive.

Our children are under enormous pressure from an early age to overachieve in order to garnish a coveted place in a good college. Much of this pressure is driven by parents. While bemoaning this phenomenon recently with a friend, he explained that entrance into a brand name college is now considered the ‘Good Parenting Seal of Approval.’ How sad. I’ve never considered my children’s academic aptitude (or athletic ability) as a reflection of my proficiency as a parent – especially since their skills in both areas far surpass anything I could have passed down.

Regarding choosing a college, I’d say our family falls somewhere in the middle of the crazy spectrum, which ranges from cool indifference to psychotic. The application process went as expected with a certain amount of drama and angst, but nothing compared to many others. Even so, there’s a level of tension that seeps in regardless of how hard you try to protect yourself. You simply can’t witness the frenzy at school, at cocktail parties, in the grocery store, etc. and not be affected. Seriously, I think there will be more than a few cases of PTSD (Posttraumatic Stress Disorder) after the dust settles. I’m still recuperating from my daughter’s senior year.

Just last night at a cocktail party (one last exception to my winter hiatus) I met a woman who shared that her son got into his fifth choice of school – Middlebury. I don’t know what his first four choices were, but he must be a smart kid. The point she made was, despite his obvious disappointment, it was the best place for him and he thrived – which is all any parent wants for their child anyway, right? Her son is now well beyond college and being rejected from those first four schools hasn’t had any adverse side effects.

No one can deny the fact that being a legacy or having a V.I.P. connection can boost your chances of acceptance. My son asked me one day, “Are you sure you don’t have any peeps that can help me out?” My answer was not the one he was looking for as I assured him, “Oh, I’ve got the ultimate Peep. He may not get you in where you want to go, but He will get you in where you need to go. Of that I am certain.”

That doesn’t mean my son won’t be disappointed if his first choice school doesn’t accept him, but that’s life. The reality is: life is filled with disappointments. Learning to deal with them is a valuable life lesson. As Barbara Johnson astutely asserts, “The difference between winning and losing is how we choose to react to disappointment.” Fortunately, we have a glut of great schools in this country from which to choose. There’s a place for everyone. Acceptance or rejection to a particular school shouldn’t define anyone’s self-worth – the child or the parents. At the end of the day, the true value of an education is not going to be where you get it, but what you do with it. At least, that is what I choose to believe.

While I’m busy sitting by the fire reading this winter (and waiting to hear the results of my son’s applications), I choose to relax and trust that God’s plan for him is far better than anything I could imagine and that wherever he is accepted will be the beginning of a wonderful adventure. 

NOT the End!

Anyone who has kept vigil at the bedside of a loved one can attest to the painful reality of waiting for the end and the myriad emotions its arrival brings. I’ve never understood the fascination with ‘reality’ TV. What a misnomer as there is nothing ‘real’ about it. If people want a dose of reality, why don’t they just LOOK AROUND!! Maybe they have and have decided watching a contrived reality is easier because true reality is more raw and gritty than most people care to admit or acknowledge. Bearing witness to someone else’s pain is difficult and makes many people uncomfortable. Even so, sometimes it is all we can offer. Often the most inspirational stories are those that often unfold right in front of us. Today, I’d like to share one of them.

It is the story of David Greig Hurst. He died last Saturday of brain cancer at the age of 43. His plight was brought to my attention by a relative who is a friend of David and his wife, Dana, in Waco, Texas. I’ve been following Dana’s blog and am in awe of the courage and faith in which this young family has faced death. The grace to choose to use their family’s pain to inspire others is a beautiful testimony of the couple’s faith, their love of God, and their love for each other. This was Dana's post the morning after her husband died.

The End

by Dana Hurst

You read a story and you wait until it is going to end. A really good story you read so fast, you rush it, you can't wait to see what the finale is. 

I waited for that Saturday. I kept trying to create that. I saw David going, we provided David with pain medicine. I did not leave his side, looking around that room, crazy thinking I was going to see some spirit coming to get him. Kept looking, but no supernatural experience:))) There was nothing. Just silence and his deep breathing. It was him and I. I told him everything I wanted to say. I read books on how you tell your loved one goodbye, what to say so they will let go. I made many promises, that now sit here thinking, “Oh goodness, did I really say that??” I can see David in heaven saying, “Oh yes you did!”:))) For the first time in 3 1/2 weeks it was just him and I in our home. He was peaceful, but he was dying. I wanted this experience to be beautiful. He was peaceful, our home was peaceful. I lit candles, I turned down the lights, I laid by his bedside and cried out to the Lord to take him with dignity, but still nothing.

It had been almost an hour after everyone left, and I remembered what I had told Parker just a few days earlier. How do we feel when we can't touch? I gave David a kiss and told him I would be right back. I walked out our back porch and sat in the grass. To do what I told Parker to do just a few days earlier. To sit outside and feel. I looked up into the sky and just asked God, what else do you want from me? What do I need to do? I felt God saying, stop looking for that perfect finale. I am that perfect finale. Stop looking and just listen. Many may ask. No, I didn't hear this big voice from heaven speak this. But, just like I tell my three year old, I felt God and he was telling me this. I closed my eyes and did what I told Parker just three days earlier. I listened. It was then that there was a breeze and I heard the front door slam. (remember I was in the back). I immediately looked back as I thought someone had walked in our house, saw the privacy of the moment and left. We have averaged 15 visitors a day in our home. But then it clicked, the front door was locked and then I knew. I ran inside and went in the bedroom and David was gone. He looked just like he was sleeping and I knew and felt, he was gone. He went right out the front door the moment there was no one in the house for the first time in 3 1/2 weeks. Even me. He knew that even though I wanted that experience to see his soul leave... it would freak me out for years to come:))) It also confirmed to me how beautiful, peaceful heaven is, that David simply walked out the front door, and I heard it so that I could have my closure that he was gone. My children were at a birthday party a few doors down. I believe with all my heart that he went out that front door so he could stop by that birthday party and see them one more time. It was the perfect finale, and I did not create it, it happened and it continued to happen.

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For weeks I had told everyone I wanted to be alone when this happened, but sitting there with David's body, I realized I could not say goodbye without the support of friends. So, within minutes of hospice arriving, friends arrived. Right away they all said, go outside - you have to look above your house. With a bottle of wine, we took glasses outside, sat in the grass and looked up in the sky. It was the most beautiful sun, with blue clouds all over. Our pastor then showed up and offered to pray. We sat in a circle and began to pray and that is when the finale continued.......

(To understand the next sign, you need this backstory from Dana.)

One year, one month ago, I lost my dear friend Wren. Watching her die was the hardest thing to go through. The first person I ever saw pass.  A mother of three young ones. Her faith was amazing. Many also know it doesn't rain in Central Texas very often. And in October we may get a shower or two, but not much if any. We are drought central. The day I held Wren's hand in the hospital and she decided to go home and start hospice, it poured down rain. We got her in the car, and I told her I wanted to walk in the rain. For me, many know, I feel rain is God's way of washing away all the tears and beautifying life all around you. I think rain is beautiful. That week with hospice Wren and I joked how we were going to get her rain boots and the next time it rains, we were going to take her wheel chair out and dance in it:) David knew this and thought I was crazy! But, he always thought I was:) The day of Wren's funeral it DOWNPOURED! I told David this was her gift to me. After the funeral, David and I walked to the car. We decided to just get wet. Embrace it. We laughed as we got in the car. It was two in the afternoon. We had a babysitter and we were soaking wet. We decided to go to a movie, a funny one. But, we were starving. Where could we eat drenched like we were? We went to Pei Wei. We had never been. We thought it must be fast! It's by the theater! And who cares if we are wet. We ate there. 

So, back to our finale....October 26th. Friends and I sat there with a glass of wine out on the grass and looked at the beautiful sun and sky above my home. The pastor showed up. We sat in a circle outside, and he prayed. As he prayed, we held hands. Minutes into the prayer, it began to rain. It rained and rained. It began as a drizzle, just enough to feel and to continue praying. Hospice later told us as we prayed, it was just raining over our home. We finished our prayer and we began to cry. Pastor Brady said (he knew my thoughts on rain) “Dana, open your eyes to all the signs David is showing you.” And then it thundered! We all laughed, David would totally scare the day lights out of me with this. We sat in the rain and embraced it. It rained for three hours. Lightning, thunder, hail. Every funny story we shared about David, another thunder. It was BEAUTIFUL. And just when I thought it was done.....a neighbor called and asked if she could bring me some food....I was starving and said sure. At this point it was after eight. She showed up and I realized she never really asked what I wanted, but I didn't care. I could have ate a cow at that point. When she walked in, what do you think she was carrying – Pei Wei. She had no idea and that is when I knew David and God sent me more signs then I could have ever imagined. I also believe Wren was right there with David watching over every detail. It is opening your eyes to the little amazing things in life that God does for you to see the big picture, the finale....God had his finale planned. I didn't need to create it, it was created before David and I existed. David left with peace and love and let me know, just like I had asked, that he is OK and that he will love me forever and always......and we will see each other again.

From his obituary:

Although some may say David lost his battle with brain cancer, many that support and love him say he won and gained. By sharing his journey, he connected over 4,000 individuals through his story. David's is a story that is defined with living. He showed us to not let cancer declare your life, but to let your faith and love make your life. It is believed by his family, friends and TEAM HURST members across the country, that David is peacefully in heaven glorifying the Father he glorified on this earth.

When I showed Dana’s post to a friend, she thought it was too sad to share, but that’s not the message I saw. This story illustrates one of life’s mysteries that something can be so sad yet so beautiful at the same time. A beautiful death sounds like an oxymoron and probably is to someone without faith, but for those of us who choose to believe the best is yet to come, death is just the beginning. It’s still goodbye but with the knowledge that it’s just for now. As Bart Millard of Mercy Me writes "In Christ, there are no goodbyes. In Christ, there is no end." Despite their tragic circumstances, this couple’s testimony continues to be: God is enough – in life and death. I can’t think of a more powerful and affirming epitaph to choose to leave as your legacy, and I can't think of a better way to honor his memory than to choose to pass along his story, which is such an amazing example of faith lived out in love. If you would like to read more about Dana and David, here is link to her blog. 

http://hurstfamilyupdate.blogspot.com/

For anyone mourning the loss of a loved one:

The Waiting Game

by Joanie Butman

Do you remember that drug trial I mentioned a few weeks ago? Well, I went to meet the new doctor thinking they would enthusiastically welcome a new guinea pig. I was shocked to discover there is a waiting list. My first thought was, “You’ve got to be kidding. If this cancer is so RARE, how could there be a waiting list?” Of all the possibilities I’d considered, this wasn’t one of them. I was reminded once again that so much of life (and cancer) is all about waiting. When you are in the waiting room and hear your name called quickly, you think, “Amazing, I didn’t even open the People magazine I look forward to reading here.” Then they lead you into an examining room where you proceed to wait and wait and wait… That only has to happen once before you make sure to bring the People magazine with you. I always carry a book and sometimes my bible study homework, but for some reason the allure of celebrity gossip is hard to resist. It’s funny, when your escort leads you into the examining room, they proudly announce you have a private bathroom. I remember the first time they did this, I thought, “How long do they plan on keeping me here if they think I will need water and a bathroom?”

After the initial shock of learning there was a waiting list, I listened intently to my tutorial about how these new drugs work. I will spare you the long scientific explanation, but it all boils down to targeting the gene that causes the cancer to reproduce and shutting it off. Different companies are experimenting with different drugs targeting different genes. The doctor added the caveat that there is an extremely rare occurrence where the targeted gene is mutated, in which case, the drug is ineffective. In fact, it’s so rare they don’t even test for it.

There are currently two trials being conducted at Sloane and one at Dana Farber in Boston. I had consulted Dana Farber in February and was put on a wait list because that trial hadn’t been approved in the U.S. at that time, but I gave them authorization to request specimens of the tumor to evaluate whether or not I would be eligible if and when they received approval from the FDA.

My Sloane doctor reported that the Dana Farber trial had been approved and suggested I contact them to see where I stood on their waiting list. When I did, the doctor I consulted informed me that based on the results of the tests I authorized in February, I was not eligible because my tumor has the rare mutated gene the doctor at Sloane just finished describing. I blurted out, “Are you serious? I’m an outlier amongst outliers? Why didn’t you let me know?” He responded with sensitivity and honesty, “I didn’t want to disappoint you. I thought I’d just wait for you to call me.” I can’t seem to get through to these doctors that the only thing that drives me crazy is not what they tell me but what they DON’T! How can I make an informed decision when I don’t have all the information? The obvious answer is I can’t. He went on to explain that he didn’t want me to lose hope. I suppose for some people that might be true; but he, and many others in the medical community, fail to appreciate that they don’t have the ability to take away my hope. It comes from an authority much higher than them. They might be the authority on cancer, but the source of my hope is the authority on life, which trumps anything they can tell me.

This logic reminded me of a conversation I had with another doctor years ago on behalf of a friend. Her doctor refused to tell her that she was terminal and continued prescribing exorbitantly-priced drugs that were making her sicker than the disease and worse, giving her false hope when, in fact, she only had days left. By not being honest with her, the doctor was robbing her of precious moments to say things she would never have the opportunity to say again. After a heated conversation, I pleaded with him to be honest with her. He posed this question, “Who are you to take away her hope?” I’m not sure who was right in that situation. Personally, I believe false hope is worthless. I knew she was going to die shortly either way. I was convinced it was her right to decide how she wanted to do it, so I chose to tell her myself. Looking back, I don’t know who was more arrogant, the doctor or me. Now, years later and with much more personal experience in this arena, I believe more than ever that the patient needs to know all the facts regardless of how difficult they may be to deliver. The final decisions regarding our healthcare and our life are ours alone. Without all the information, it is difficult if not impossible to determine the best course of action. My advice: choose to be your own advocate! If you can't, find someone who will assume that role for you!

 You may think that learning my cancer was nonconforming might have been a blow, but in reality it is a perfect example of answered prayer. I prayed for wisdom and guidance as to what trial to go into. I was very specific asking, “Please make it obvious so my path is clear.” He answered swiftly and decisively. My ineligibility for those other two trials couldn’t make my choice any clearer and saved me from entering a trial that would have been doomed from the start. As far as the waiting list goes, everyone’s waiting for something aren’t they? Why should I be any different? Fortunately, I have the luxury of being able to wait – something many others do not, so I choose to be grateful. I’ve also prayed for patience over the years. Trust me, if you ask God to help you learn patience, He is going to put you in situations where you are going to have to practice it – again and again and again. I just wish I were a quicker study so we could move on to something else.

Lastly, on more than one occasion I’ve been asked, “How do you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Keep from worrying.” I could write an entire book in answer to that question. Come to think of it, I already did! If you want the long version, I'd be happy to send you a copy of I Don't Buy Green Bananas, but the lyrics to Because He Lives say it more eloquently and succinctly than I ever could.

"Because He Lives"

Because he lives

I can face tomorrow

Because he lives

All fear is gone

Because I know he holds the future

My life is worth the living just because he lives