Taylor Marks

I was in disbelief when I read the email last night that Taylor Marks had been killed in Iraq Thursday. I hadn't seen Taylor in a few years, but my daughter Michelle and I had just been wondering what he was up to a few days ago. We didn't know he was deployed to Iraq and now wish we had kept in contact with him and his family more frequently.
(Normally, I am over-zealous about not infringing on copyrighted material, but I wanted to post this photo of Taylor, so I hope the Oregon National Guard forgives me for using their picture.)

Taylor was a close friend of my daughter throughout their middle and high school years. His mother and I had been in the same single mom's group at church. I was the interpreter for a boy in Taylor's small group in middle school for nearly a year before I learned that my friend was the mom of Michelle's friend.

Taylor was silly and wacky, but always a good kid with a wonderful heart. He had a growing faith and was the best of friends to my daughter, who had a very difficult home life due to her sister's serious problems. Taylor was always there for her. I always felt they made a great couple and was surprised they never dated. Many people assumed they were a couple, but they were just close friends. I had missed him once he changed to another church.

This photo of Taylor is from middle school. Sadly, it is the only photo I seem to have of him. It has been rough for my daughter and I to deal with the grief, but we had a rare visit with my granddaughter planned for today, so that kept us busy. We want to go visit his mom on Monday and support her during this unbelievably difficult time. Please pray for Taylor's mom, step-dad, sister and father.

Going Green, even if it's blue

Sure, I care for the environment and, yes, I did belong to the Sierra Club and supported the World Wildlife Fund when I was in high school in the 70's. (Who didn't?) I loved hiking and backpacking and wanted to know that we would always have wilderness places to enjoy and wild animals to see. But I've never been an extremist or activist. I recycle, but occasionally throw out a can or jar in the trash instead (usually because I found it in the back of the fridge with something fuzzy growing in it).

Interestingly, I find myself more and more concerned with going Green and becoming more eco-friendly. I have bought a number of fabric reusable grocery bags. I even remember to take them in with me on occasion. I reuse the plastic grocery bags as trash can liners or lunch sacks. I even reuse plastic containers (yogurt cups to take out sauce cups) for mixing paints or other craft needs.

Maybe it is the increasing emphasis on going Green that I see on TV. I find myself watching the Green network (who knew it even existed?). QuiltingArts and Cloth Paper Scissors magazines, plus the whole lot of Stampington Press have more and more on using green materials, recycling and upcycling (a new vocabulary word for me). The online ideas sent by CraftStylish also often includes recycled or green projects.

Pictured at the top of the page is one of the better ideas I've seen. Make your own reusable produce bags! Inexpensive netting and a bit of yarn or ribbon make bags you can use over and over instead of adding plastic bags to the landfill. I made and used my first one last week. Quick to make; I plan to make a bunch more. The netting is less than $2 per yard and comes in a variety of colors. I decided I liked blue, this time, but may go with yellow or purple next time. It was also easy to find coordinating thread and ribbon, though you really could use whatever you have at hand.

What cool "green" ideas have you seen lately?

Tropical Snowballs

I enjoyed the movie Julie & Julia, remembering fondly watching Julia Child years ago and being inspired to try new recipes and have fun with my cooking and baking. I'm not good with keeping a regular routine, such as Julie Powell cooking through Julia's book in one year, blogging her experience daily. My days are just to unpredictable, no, I'm too unpredictable, to follow such a regimen on my own. I have a habit of not honoring commitments made to myself.

But I WANT to be consistent. I love to write and often "blog" in my head, even if I don't have the time or energy to get to the computer to type the words. At the same time, I love cooking and would love to host my own cooking show. I plan to actually enter The Next Food Network Star competition this year, though I can't imagine what unique culinary point of view I could offer. I love to invent recipes and want others to enjoy cooking, not dread or fear it.

I've decided (we'll see if I do follow through) that I need to do a vlog of cooking. Each time I invent a new recipe, I want to make a video showing the steps and just have some fun with it. I want to respect my deaf friends, but doubt I'll have time to caption my movies. I think I should make signed versions as well as voice versions.

I've also decided that what I lack in culinary expertise I could learn through a similar method that Julie Powell took. If I find some great cookbooks that include a wide array of culinary techniques, I can cook my way through them to learn the classic preparations and sauces the "big" chefs use. It should be fun along the way.

So, to the main point of my thoughts today. While shopping for a specific book (which was not to be found) my daughters and I happened upon the following book...

(only ours has blue gingham; 2007 edition)
Cool. Should be good inspiration as we face this year's state fair in a few weeks. I wondered if I or any of my notable competitors had recipes in the book. I checked and Oregon was one of the fairs included. Time was short, the store was closing, so I made the quick decision to buy the book (luckily not too expensive at Ross). At home, I leafed through the book. Great recipes. I can't wait to try them, especially the ones from the Maui Onion Festival.

For now, get your copy and turn to page 342. I'll wait. Oh, you don't have the book? Okay, here is a photo of the page for you. (click image to enlarge)

There I am. Nestled between Blueberry-Ginger Sorbet (Maine) and Pumpkin-Ginger Ice Cream. I vaguely remembered being asked permission to have one of my recipes included in this type of cookbook, but couldn't remember when and I had never heard anything else about it. It was so neat to find myself in print! Feel free to make some... they have no added sugar and came from a recipe I invented for my diabetic step-dad earlier that summer.

Hope to start vlogging this week as I begin practicing for this year's fair. Keep cookin'!

Lemons

We've all heard it for years. "When life gives you lemons..."

Point taken. Don't let "sour" circumstances dictate a sour life. Respond to the situation in a positive and creative way.

But I like lemons. Not only is fresh lemonade a great treat, but there is lemon pie (I like the two-crust pie made with slices of fresh lemon as opposed to the standard meringue-topped varitey), lemon bars (my mom makes the best ones) and slices of lemon stuffed into the clean belly of a trout or salmon. The citrus bite of the lemon adds freshness to all manor of dishes from appetizers to desserts, sweets to savory dishes. Such a versatile fruit. It is a shame it has been forced to bear the stigma of all that is negative in life.

When I think of lemons, I immediately think of my mom. She lives in a neighborhood that was a lemon grove in a previous lifetime. Thankfully, some of the trees were preserved and they bear bright yellow fruit throughout the year. We take daily walks and I love that I can "shop" for part of our menu without ever going to the store.

The photo above shows the most recent member of my garden: a Meyer lemon. I didn't know until recently that lemons could be grown here in Oregon, but once I learned that great news I immediately found a nearby nursery that stocked them. I will have to protect it when temps drop to 30 degrees or below, but I don't mind putting in that effort to be rewarded with stunning yellow fruits in their season.

So, life didn't give me lemons today. I actually sought them out and paid handsomely for them! With all the yumminess inherent in lemons, maybe we should work to change that old saying. How about, "When life gives you Brussels sprouts...?"

Hidden Problems

I don't spend much time in my detached garage during the winter. I drive the car in and out nearly every day, but seldom remain. Cold, damp, dark... nothing inviting there. I'd like to have the money to insulate and sheet rock the place so I can use it as studio space even during the cold months, but for now I avoid it.

A few months ago, I needed to get something from the garage (I can't remember what) and found a surprise. While I had avoided what I considered an inhospitable place, local field mice considered it a haven! Little black specks were everywhere! I also found one of the mainstays of their party - a good sized bag of grass seed had been chewed open for the enjoyment of all, empty hulls strewn about hinting at the pleasantries of my little invaders. Ah, my own fault for leaving such an attractive nuisance.

But then, they crossed the line. They messed with my art supplies! I had scored a box of small dried gourds at a sale and looked forward to the day I would carve and paint them. Peering into the box, however, I found the mice had decided to do some carving of their own. About half the gourds had rough little holes chewed in the sides. The seeds were eaten. The seed skins and the loose fibers inside the gourds had been shredded and fluffed into luxurious bedding. I wondered how many teeny weeny rodents started life in my gourds.

I had to throw out the ones that were ruined. I kept the whole ones because I'd be washing them with bleach before I worked on them anyway. If only I had known, I could have prevented the damage and loss in my garage.

As I looked at that picture again today, I couldn't help but think of my grandkids. If only I had seen, if only I had known... I could have prevented the damage and loss they have experienced. It happened in secret and hiding, but if I had only opened the door and turned on the light instead of popping in and out quickly. I know I'm not to blame. I don't feel guilty, just remorseful. I will have to always pay closer attention in the future.

A Perfect Day

Despite crawling into bed way too late last night, I was up on time this morning feeling fine. I watched That's Clever, cooked 5 grain cereal for breakfast and managed 20 minutes of workout (step aerobics and practice interpreting to upbeat Christian songs) time before showering and heading out the door. My hair wasn't awful today and I was able to get to Dutch Bros. for an Annihilator before work. (Okay, so it wasn't perfect. I forgot to order it Skinny.)

At work, I managed to fill my water bottle and get through the important emails before my students arrived. We got the Senior Invitations printed - and I am so thrilled to have students who have the capacity and desire to learn to operate the offset press!

During my prep period I printed all the worksheets for the scavenger hunt I designed for my History class and hid all the clues in all the right spots. Despite the many details, I managed to pull everything together just in time for class. The activity went off without a hitch and was highly successful. Students were motivated, I was able to assess their mastery, or lack thereof, of vocabulary and skills. They had a good time. They learned. I learned. I felt great about the challenges I put to them and we decided we will do something similar as their final exam in June. They even gave me suggestions to make it more difficult. We even had enough time left over to play another challenging thinking and memory game.

Lunch was great. Yam and banana followed by blueberries in strawberry yogurt. No "cheating" or unhealthy snacks. Caught up on most emails and finished one game of Pathwords before heading back to work.

My afternoon was spent preparing for a presentation I'm giving with 3 coworkers tomorrow. I felt proud that I'm mastering a new presentation software I just learned about and put together a presentation that reflected all the major points we had discussed yesterday. It should be fun and informative tomorrow and help us cover all the material. I worked overtime creating graphs of student test scores (we are presenting on using assessment data to guide our teaching decisions) and I created a second Prezi presentation looking at the data I graphed.

I didn't cop out on dinner, but grabbed a bunch of veggies and a little chicken to make a quick stir fry. It was delightful. I finished off my homemade ginger ice cream - that was made with nonfat milk. Now, I'm getting some writing done, too, in keeping with my goal of writing more regularly, if not daily.

At this rate, I can relax a bit before getting to be ON TIME tonight.

Health. Food. Work. Communications. Interpretation practice. Teaching. Learning. TV time (Go, Judge Judy!) Chores. (Yes, doing the dishes and laundry actually make it a good day because I feel good about the accomplishment and it makes life balanced. "Perfect" doesn't mean all fun and games.)

Well, my crazy pooches need to go outside. I need to put the car away. I want to enjoy the remainder of the sunshine before settling down for a good night's sleep.

What makes a perfect day for you?

Easter Morning 1980

(back to the story)

You couldn't imagine a more perfect Easter morning. Even at that early hour the rising sun bathed my tent with its light. Emerging, I met a brilliant blue sky. In fact, the light intensified all the colors around me from the pines to the neighboring tents to those monolithic cliff I couldn't see at all the day before.

But the sun wasn't rising in my heart. I dreaded the news the day would bring. Having not heard from David and knowing he had lost all his equipment, I couldn't help but fear the worst. I prayed for a miracle, but braced myself for heartache, as I dressed and drove to the viewpoint below El Capitan.

Besides a few birds and a whisper of a breeze, the morning was deeply quiet. I had no binoculars, so I mounted my large telephoto lens on my camera and scanned the rock face to find that alcove where David was last seen. Even with the telephoto, David was barely a speck when I saw him. But what I saw seemed to confirm my fears. He was hanging by his waist at the end of the rope. If he was alive, he would need a rescue immediately.

By now it was 6:30 am. To me the day was in full swing, but at that hour few others were even awake. I headed to the Park Service quarters and found one ranger awake. I tried to relay my information clearly, emphasize the seriousness of the situation, yet at the same time trying not to sound like a raving lunatic. I managed to convince the young ranger to go awaken John Dill, the one who would be in charge of the rescue.

Side note: I knew John Dill because the summer before David's climbing partner had heat exhaustion and they had to be rescued.

While waiting for John to get up and begin the rescue process, I returned to my campsite, packed up all my belongings and drove to the lodge to wait. The rangers picked me up soon and we drove to the meadow below El Cap. They had a huge telescope to check out the situation before deciding on a rescue. I wanted them to just take my word, but they do have procedures (to avoid the expense of an unnecessary rescue on the word of an overly distraught wife).

John got the Questar set up and looked at the alcove to assess the situation. He saw David and expressed concern that he wasn't moving by this time. He said he was more concerned about asphyxiation than the cold since he was hanging by his waist. Then he asked me if I wanted to look. (How bad could it be if he offered, right?) I was rather shocked to see David not only hanging by his waist, but his clothing had followed the course of gravity and gathered around his ankles and upper chest, leaving most of his body exposed to the elements. I knew then it was over.

Waiting

Saturday, April 18, 2009

Ephesians 2 - In reading this chapter today, I wished Jessica could realize the full meaning of these verses. She wants to be independent and reject the church, but she is struggling and miserable following her own path. If she were to become remade in His Image... imagine the joy and peace she could experience.



My reading in the Psalms today was to start at chapter 28, but as my eyes traveled the page to 28:1, this verse snagged their attention and begged for re-reading (yesterday’s chapter).

Wait for the Lord;
be strong and take heart
and wait for the Lord.
Psalm 27:14

This verse applies directly to our discussions at the Deaf Young Life leadership meeting, John Stumbo’s journey and blog and my own journey, especially this week.

Wait. This isn’t something most of us like to do. It seems like a waste of time - we want a plan of action and to get results. How we need to learn to wait! Not passively idle time to twiddle our thumbs, but an expectant wait.

The verse says to “be strong” in this wait. How do we gain strength? Physically, it comes from exercise, rest and proper nutrition. Spiritually and emotionally, we need the same. Study His Word. Meditate - on scripture, nature, world events,... Seek His wisdom and insights. Pray. Pray. Pray without ceasing; in your lying down and getting up and as we walk through our day. Rest. Be still. Silence yourself to hear His voice. Not at all easy, especially when we want action, but vital.

“Take heart.” A lovely English idiom meaning to be confident or courageous. Confident of what? Courageous, when I feel so dis-couraged? Of course, you know the answer. The only unshifting, Rock-Solid stronghold is Christ. I love the ASL sign for “confident.” (If you don’t know it, one online resource: American Sign Language Browser) It shows a grasping onto... holding on, as if to a rope or lifeline. Hold on to Him.

I’m not sure what the Psalmists meaning was, but as I read this verse this morning, I pictured that old Western icon of holding down the fort, knowing that calvary was coming soon. Whatever battles we face, however strong the Enemy seems to be, however weary or overwhelmed or alone we may feel, God is near. He will never abandon us. Our circumstances and fears may obscure the feeling of His presence, but He remains. At the right time, He will intervene, show us the next steps, provide the answers... Our job is to wait, in strength and confidence.

Jesus, waiting is hard sometimes. Often our waiting is for answers and direction, so we feel suspended in some kind of limbo. We want answers. We want action. But help us to be strong, to do our part to make ourselves strong and to receive strength from You, and to take heart, to hold on to Your promises and to the knowledge that you will be with us, guide us and protect us along the way. Lord, I confess that I am not always a good "waiter." I need frequent reminders to develop good waiting skills; to rest and wait for Your time and Your answers. Quiet my heart and soul and give me the strength to wait for You.

Friday 4.17.09 Note

Jessica called tonight to apologize for not being there Thursday. A bit late, but at least it is a step in the right direction. I'm still not convinced she grasps the seriousness of the neglect. Time will tell.

Weary from the week

I'm weary. What an emotional week. Tonight I'm just going to be warm and cozy at home and try to relax. I have been busy most of the week, but it is catching up with me today.. on the verge of tears most of the day and couldn't wait to be done at work.

Wednesday I received a call from Jessica and found she was out of jail. ("Hi, Mom. What's up?... like nothing had happened") She called to see if I had a clock with an alarm so she and her boyfriend could get up for appointments with lawyers, courts, drug classes, etc. I told her I didn't have one, but would be willing to buy her one. I waited for her to tell me about the whole incident.

Once I asked her, she started telling me about the horrible experiences she had with the police and in jail. After a few minutes I asked, "What about the girls." She responded they were in foster care, then continued to talk about how terrible her experiences were. I had to ask several more times about the kids, and got just snippets. In the end, I realized she never showed any remorse, wasn't upset about what happened to the kids nor did she seem to understand how this experience could affect them.

I did express my concern over her not taking Kady to the doctor for over a year (and covering that up with lies), and she blamed the Oregon Health Plan for only covering appointments every two months. That is still much less than a year and I certainly could have paid for non-insurance covered appointments, if she needed them. All Jessica needed to do was ask me, instead of lying and pretending she was doing everything possible. When I think of the pain and suffering Kady has had to endure needlessly I am beyond furious.

Jessica did state that she would have the girls back "soon." - 6 months max. When I questioned this, she was irate with me for not supporting her. I hadn't even expressed that I didn't want her to get the kids back so soon, merely questioned whether she really would. After the pain she willingly allowed her child to experience, I don't know if I ever want her to get the girls back. I know treatment for her bipolar is required from the state, now, but I don't know if I can ever trust her again.

Back to the clock... I had said I would buy one and bring it over after work Thursday (yesterday). I said I would call, so be sure to listen for the phone. Yesterday, I called and called and there was no answer. Before going to a meeting, I did buy a clock and drive over to her apt. No one was there. I have not heard from her since. Just one more way she demonstrates her lack of consideration of others. If she wasn't going to be there, she should have called so I didn't waste my time, effort and gas.

I love my daughter, but am frustrated, hurt and angry about her mental state. I know she has bipolar, but she refuses to take responsibility for it and get treatment (though that will be forced, now). I am still debating over whether to become their foster home or allow them to be in another home (which could be much better in many ways, given my own limitation). Many questions need to be answered about the process and much prayer before a decision is made. But tonight, I'm cocooning. Dinner, TV and maybe a good cry - I haven't taken time for that yet and it lingered just under the surface all day. Grief needs its outlet.

Innocent Child

Childhood should be innocent. Running barefoot on the grass. Trips to the zoo and beach. Stories, hugs, kisses and giggles. All while cocooned in the love of a mom and dad who would give them the world.

I've wanted that for my kids and now for my grandkids, but life doesn't always give us the things we dream. My heart breaks for my two precious granddaughters, just 4 years old and 6 months old. Their mom and dad were too busy, too self-absorbed and/or too unobservant. Both were arrested for child neglect yesterday. I'm so angry about their lies and neglect - and stealing the right of these girls to the innocent childhood they deserve.

Now they're in foster care. I won't be able to see them for a while... I just want to hold them and tell them I love them and that none of this is their fault. I've always thought that if something happened, I'd take the girls to raise. But now that it is here, I wonder if I am the best choice for them. I love them, but do I have the physical, mental and emotional ability to raise kids again? The older one seems to have her mother's bipolar, meaning years of difficult struggles. Would they be better off in a loving home with TWO parents? I always wanted that for my own girls, but their father wasn't around much, and didn't show them love anyway. (They were supposed to make him feel loved.)

Heavenly Father. I know my girls are more precious to You than even to me. You alone know their futures and what is best for them. I feel inadequate, but if You want me to raise them I know You will provide every thing I need in all areas to do the job well. If they have another family to love them, I will release them though it rip my heart from within me. I am furious and disgusted with my own daughter for the neglect and the carefully crafted lies to keep me from knowing. I want to forgive her, but not right now. I pray as she sits in her cell that she feels the weight of what she did to her children, not just feeling sorry for herself. I want to be open to Your guidance. Let me be wise in You. Above all, bless those innocent girls and shower them with Your love. Let them learn how to enjoy childhood.

The Rest of the Story...

Or at least the rest of Saturday, April 5th, 1980.

With that overwhelming sense of peace also came the feeling somewhere deep inside that I had just signed my husband's death certificate. I had peace, but there was a gnawing pain, too. I wandered through the stores some more and I still occasionally drove to the meeting point and checked the walkie-talkie, but as darkness came, I had to give up for the day.

During the previous week, while David was climbing, I had camped with two other couples so I wouldn't be alone. They had left Friday evening to avoid the incoming storm. One couple were teachers and needed to ensure they'd be home to prepare for teaching. Since they were Christians, too, I knew I could count on them for some wisdom and support. So, I called them later in the evening to let them know what was going on.

They assured me that things would be okay. They felt for sure David would have holed up in that alcove and waited for a break in the weather. They felt, also, that the batteries in the walkie-talkies probably died, so not to worry about the lack of communication. I hung up after this conversation with relief and started to reprimand myself for having such pessimism earlier. I was smiling as I headed off to drive back to my campsite, feeling the next morning would bring more news.

I had only gone a few steps, however, when I ran into Ray and Suzie Jardine. Ray was and has been a big name climber and inventor of climbing equipment. I had met them earlier in the week and had spent a bit of time with Suzie. They were somber and they informed me that they had just returned from the base of El Cap (El Capitan) where they had found a rack of climbing gear and a pair of EBs (special climbing shoes). They were David's.

Without a doubt, David was in trouble and would need some type of rescue.

Saturday, April 5, 1980

As noted previously, Saturday was a miserable day. I was cold most of the day and spent the day between running the truck motor and heater and sitting in the cold cab, with occasional trips to Yosemite Village to warm up. And waiting. And wondering. I had to keep checking our pre-arranged meeting place because I faced David's wrath if I wasn't there to get him when he arrived.

Trips to Yosemite Village should have been fun, but not today. I had almost no money, so couldn't do any "real" shopping. Of course, we're not talking about a mall here. There was the Visitors' Center, a book store and a general store, which had groceries and gifts (the best I remember). Normally, you could be done with shopping here is a couple of hours, at most. But I had all day.

To pass the time and keep my mind off the waiting, I literally looked at every item in every store. I remember thinking how incredibly expensive the fresh blueberries were. I found a number of nature books I wanted, wished I could take such fabulous photos as I saw on posters and wondered if I should buy a gift for Dave to celebrate his successful climb of El Capitan (and hopefully appease him a bit if I were late picking him up).

By early afternoon, the snow had begun to melt and I was noticeably worried. Surely by now, if all was well, he would have contacted me or have arrived at our meeting spot. Was he hurt? Did he stay sheltered from the snow? Did he have equipment problems? Did he need help or did things just take longer than he expected? How long do I keep up my running to our meeting point and back? Til dark? After dark? I didn't have a Plan B.

As a new Christian, I had been taught we are not to worry, but rather give our situation to God and trust Him. Throughout the day, I had prayed several times, "I give this situation to You." Yet, I still found myself worried. Something wasn't working and I felt a bit guilty or stupid for evidently not doing it "right." By around 3 pm I had wandered over to the beautiful Ahwahnee Hotel and found a quiet couch in the lobby. I needed something more... more comfort? more answers? from God. The next half hour proved to be pivotal in my life.

Please understand that the conversation that ensued happened in my head and my heart. I did not hear an audible voice nor were there angles or beams of light or other supernatural phenomenon. Just God's quiet whisper inside. Yes, I do believe in Him and believe He desires personal relationship with us. I believe He loves us and that He is good and loving. Even if I hadn't believed it fully before, I certainly did after this encounter.

"So, I know I'm not supposed to worry, as a Christian and all, and that I need to give it to You. I keep giving it to You, so why am I still worried?" I didn't expect an answer, I was just expressing frustration.

"Because, when you said the words, 'I give it to You,' your heart was saying, 'end my waiting and bring David back; give me a happy ending and prove my that my worrying was needless.' It isn't the words that stop the worrying, but a heart that truly releases the situation to Me and gives up all demands for a specific outcome."

Whoa. He was right. What I wanted was a formula that when I prayed the "right" thing, then God would give me what I wanted. In this case, it was for David to be back safe and sound and to get on with life. Was I really ready to give God control? Was I willing to give Him permission to do whatever He wanted in this situation? Wait. Did I just consider giving God permission? Like He needs my permission to do whatever He wants! Yet, He wasn't strong-arming me nor throwing His sovereignty in my face.

I wrestled with my own level of faith. Did I really believe the Bible? Did I believe the testimonies of others about God's care and provision? Did I believe it enough to let go of control? Was I willing to trust Him no matter the outcome? Whether David came back as I wanted or if he were injured, paraplegic, brain injured, crippled, dead or any number of other options? Could I live with those other options? Could I really handle life if something bad happened?

In the end, logic won out and I had to trust that all I believed about God was true and that He would be with me no matter what. Interesting, though I don't generally picture things in my head, I had this image of God wearing a blue and gray flannel shirt; a comfy, soft flannel shirt. The image was just of the chest area (yet somehow I knew it was God) and the focus was on the pocket. I was to mentally slip Dave into the pocket and know that he was in God's care - near God's heart.

So I prayed, sincerely this time, "God, I give you this situation. Whatever the outcome, I will trust You." And immediately a peace I had never known before flooded through me, even warming me a bit. The reality in my heart was that God cared for me and would be with me no matter what.

It Is Time

Twenty-nine years ago last night I was finishing my CB radio to Walkie-Talkie conversation with my husband. I headed back to my tent. He was bivouaced in an alcove over 3,000 feet up the Nose route of El Capitan in Yosemite valley. He had already anchored the pitch above and would be completing the climb to the top first thing in the morning. I had given him the weather report - a snow storm was on its way. He was not worried since he could easily climb that last pitch, even in snow.

Saturday morning, I awoke to a blanket of white. Clouds filled the valley and there was no visual indication that I was surrounded by the monolithic grandeur that is Yosemite. I grabbed something for breakfast, then headed down to the meadow to make radio contact with Dave once again. Depending on the time he awoke, he could have completed his descent by mid-morning. I did NOT want to face his fury, so I dared not be late.


We had been married less than two years and it had been rocky almost from the start. He decided he had been limited for too long and rebelled against nearly everything I thought he believed in. He had a nasty temper and wanted things his way. I tried hard to please him, but it seemed we were always at odds over something. Six months earlier, he even had a girlfriend. He swears nothing physical happened between them, but I was never sure. Despite the tough times, things had improved since the first of the year. I would soon have my teaching license and we were making plans that would suit both of us.

Saturday was hard. I couldn't raise David on the CB. I didn't know whether his battery had died, he had dropped the thing or if he was just busy climbing. He only turned it on occasionally, so it wasn't too odd to not reach him. But what was I to do? I couldn't sit in our pick up truck waiting. If I ran the motor, it wasted gas. Without the motor, there was no heat. I could return to the village, but if Dave made it to the meeting spot and I wasn't there, I was in trouble.

I did a little of everything. I waited until I couldn't stand the cold any more, then ran the motor and heater for a bit. Once in a while I would drive back to the village and wander through the stores to stay warm. I'd stay only as long as I thought I could before driving back to our meeting spot to see if he was there. Round and round. Waiting, cold, waiting.