Sunflowers

Weekend Wonder

YELLOWIMG_5576My father in law always shares his newspaper with me when my family and I come up for a visit. This particular visit there was an article about a farmer and his sunflowers. Five acres in bloom. Only a few days remaining for the golden-yellow field.

I knew I had to go and see.

We follow the route on the GPS to the sunflower farm, past store fronts and restaurants and busy grocery stores. The road seems to empty as we drive on. We turn and follow a bumpy dirt road. The houses here aren’t inches apart, they’re acres apart. Clouds of dust rise up and we’re passing farms and horses in pastures.

It’s amazing how these beauties in life exist down roads near by, but somehow far away at the same time.

I think we’re coming upon a secret treasure–

A couple of miles down the dirt road, we near the entrance and looking up from the dust we see the cars. It’s not a secret. Many have read about the sunflower field. The funny thing is, no one seems to be expecting this hidden country life tucked back only a few miles from the city. As we’re trying to navigate our way into this crowded little oasis, I see women in heels trying to step lightly in sinking dirt and a family trying to dig car tires out of deep sand.

There are photographers and families and women picking armfuls of fresh flowers for bouquets.

We all came to see this beauty growing up from the ground.

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Walking in a field of golden suns,

lifted high upon green stalks.

Yellow blooms and petals reach,

like sunbeams through morning clouds.

—LAM—

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My daughter and I with the sunflower farmers (Father, Son, & Grandson!) and their cute board book, Sunny & The Sunflower Maze written by Raj Sinha and Illustrated by J.C. Plitt                                                                       –Check out Liberty Farms in Florida and New Jersey 

 

 

 

 

 

Shore Birds

Noisy, playful, insistent, curious…

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I’ve got an idea in mind for a new book. And in this little book is where a seagull lives. I needed to get to the beach and  find my seagull. Thankfully this weekend was a perfect beach day kind of weekend. We packed all the usual, sunscreen, towels, body boards, and beach buckets.

My family picked out their spot on the sand and before I could even lay out my towel I spotted a group of my little shore bird friends, in between beach umbrellas and ocean waves. Shore birds and snow birds basking in the Florida winter sun.

Here are some of the images I captured

Shore bird study:

Flight

 

 

Poses

img_5432img_5420Sanderlings 

Not seagulls, but so incredibly cute! Seriously.

 

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Happy little seagulls!

 

Ring-billed Gull

John James Audubon was a fan of this gull…

Or at least according to my interpretation of my Reader’s Digest Book of North American Birds– “John James Audubon himself called it ‘the great American gull.'”

 

The Flock

img_5341Black Skimmers

These are the birds with the long beaks and bright orange coloring. The lower bill is longer than the upper bill and skims the surface of the water as they fly above it. They look as if they love nothing more than to fly just for the joy of it. Maybe it was the morning I was there to see these birds, but they did not seem content to sit still for long. They would take off, rise and fall in synchronized harmony out and up over the ocean– up, down, around, land, repeat.

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Election Day (Peanuts Style)!

Grandpa

Happy Election Day!

Ok, so it isn’t really Thursday yet. It’s Tuesday, November 8th, 2016.

And it’s been quite a while since I’ve posted a throwback picture book, but this one is too good not to share a few days early.

So here’s a little light-hearted distraction to bring you a smile as we wait for all the poll results to come in.

The Peanuts Platform

Illustrated by Charles M. Schulz

Hallmark 1968

 

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A few of my favorite campaign promises from the Peanuts gang:

“No homework on weekends! (For anybody!)” -Charlie Brown

“Full rights for women!” -Lucy

“A good-neighbor policy!” -Snoopy

 

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“And Happiness for everyone!”

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The True Story of a Common Grackle

Weekend Wonder

My daughter and I were spending the afternoon together, a little bit of me time and a little bit of her time. Our day included coffee and doughnut treats, antique shops and thrift stores, and volunteering together at the cat rescue (this one in particular for my little animal lover’s soul).

We were just walking back to the car when we both saw the little black bird in the median. It was pecking at a wrapper on the ground next to my car door.

“Mom, is the bird trying to open that?”

I unlocked the car and we walked closer. The little black bird hopped back a bit to wait for us to go about our day so he could go about trying to open the little cellophane wrapper on the ground. I looked down and saw it was fortune cookie.

“Mom, we should help! Can we open it for him?”

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I bent down and picked up the fortune cookie, opened the little bag, crushed up the cookie and spread it on the ground for our new little friend. And then I saw the thin slip of paper lying there. Of course, it’s a fortune cookie. I reached down to read the little bird’s fortune,

“God looks after you in a special way.”

Amazing isn’t it?

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I’m writing a bird book and this little fortune is a gift from God. A gift to me and my beautiful girl. One I just had to share!

On the back of the book I’m writing I’ve included a verse;

Look at the birds of the air. They don’t plant or harvest or store food in barns. But your heavenly father feeds the birds. And you know that you are worth much more than birds.  ~Matthew 6:26

Whenever I read this verse it reminds me of my Grandma Annie in Michigan. She has always cared for the birds around her home. When I was young and would come for a visit, she would fill up the bird feeders with seed and the bird bath with fresh water. We would go inside and watch from her dining room window.

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After I was married I visited her with my own children. She drove her great-grandson down to the market with her to get more seed for the feeders and even some corn cobs for the squirrels. We filled the feeders together and watched the colorful birds enjoy their meal.

God cares for the birds by bringing the worms up from the ground after a rain, or through a grandma who puts out fresh seeds and water, even in a winter-frozen Michigan backyard, or through the heart of a little girl who notices a common grackle trying open the wrapper of a fortune cookie.

Yes, God looks after the birds in a special way. Even little birds who are called common.

Always remember, God cares for you even more than that!

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Why Write?

Thoughts On Writing, Fear, and Time | Part 2

“Don’t you find it strange that we have these ideas we dream up? We write and create and go to conferences and critique groups. No one has asked us to write, but we do.”

I was at a conference a few years ago when I asked one of my friends and fellow writers my question about writing. The process and the idea of writing started to feel strange and surreal.  Why do I seem to find inspiration for new books all around? I jot down the ideas in my notebook, on receipts in my purse, or on the back of a bulletin in church. Some of these ideas stick with me and their little voice is strong. I feel this desire to put my thoughts and words and art together. I create little book dummies of how I see these books in my mind.

I have 12 on a spreadsheet facing me now. Three in book dummy form.

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Family, school, kids, and work pop in and demand some love and inspiration too. Shouldn’t I put my ideas aside and focus on what’s in front of me? And yet these little books speak to me. They compel me to take them to critique group and attend writer’s conferences.

The question I asked my friend about writing has stayed with me. It pops up when I doubt what I’m trying. It’s easier to listen to the voice that says, ‘focus on what’s in front of you’.

But what if all writers listened to a voice that told them to stop writing?

What if all artists listened to the voice of doubt or fear and stopped making art?

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The question remained: Why write?

And then I met Nikki Grimes. I was invited to hear her read from her book Words With Wings at the Upper Room Art Gallery. She is talented and gracious and humble. She talked with me afterword about her writing, her children’s books, and poetry, and new projects.

We took a walk with our host Robin Merrill from the Upper Room to see a piece of art in the making. We stood in front of a large log being hand cut into a canoe by a Seminole Indian from the tradition of generations before. A story in its own way, told and passed down.

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I asked Nikki the same thing I had asked my other friend, “Don’t you find it strange to write sometimes? To put these ideas and thoughts down on paper and publish them? No one has asked us to write what we write but we do it anyway.”

She answered me quickly,

“If I waited for permission, I would never write.”

Wow! I had never considered that I was waiting for permission.

As we looked at the canoe in raw form and Robin told us about the artwork, she showed us a pile of wood chips on the ground that had been cut from the log. Chunks and layers of shavings discarded for the canoe to takes its form. She gave us a little brown paper bag and told us to take some shavings and create our own piece of art from them.

Here is mine, a bird with Nikki’s winged words for me…

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I dont’ have an answer as to why I write, but it doesn’t have to be because someone asked me to.

I have a goal now for my little board books.

That’s what they are. No permission needed.

 

If you’re the curious sort, one who wonders about why we do the things we do, here’s an amazing book I found one evening at Barnes & Noble, Why We Write About Ourselves: Twenty memoirists on Why They Expose Themselves (and Others) in the Name of Literature.

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Happy reading, writing and creating! ~LAM

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Time Is Ticking

Thoughts on writing, fear, and time | Part 1

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I saw my friend and fellow writer, critiquer and encourager, Belinda at church. She told me she had sent her second query out to an agent. We attended the SCBWI Florida regional conference together this year. Since the conference she was the first to send out her work. And now she’s sent out her second query. Belinda two. Me zero. She’s on a mission. I’m still nervous to hit send.

Later that day I headed out to the beach for some time with my family. They were here for a visit and their lovely condo was right on the ocean. A week of beachfront lazy days together was in order. At least that’s what I envisioned for the group.

My husband had a different idea in mind. Somehow he and my son decided an hour jet ski rental would be great fun for the whole family. Aunt Heidi, the cousins, little sis, my husband and I, gliding across the surface of the ocean at reckless speeds.

I was terrified.

Listening to the safety rules and ocean regulations didn’t help calm my fears-

Don’t get too close to the swim markers, best to stay a hundred feet out since swimmers don’t pay attention and often go beyond the markers. Don’t pass the buoys. Don’t go over the reef. Stay 300 feet away from scuba divers and other boats. If you flip over, stay calm and try to turn the jet ski back over before it sinks. If you ride over too much seaweed you need to be able to hop off and reach your hand under the jet ski and pull the seaweed out of the intake.

Riding a jet ski is the opposite of relaxing at the beach.

My husband and son rode first. Next was our daughter. Then we switched drivers and my sister took her two girls. We still had time. She came in and Mike and I went out. Our guide steadied the jet ski for us while we were getting on.

“Hop on!” my husband says. I do, but completely nervous I try to hop on the back.

“No, you’re driving. Get up front,” he says.

“No, you drive. I’m not getting up front.”

“Yes. Yes, you are. Get up front!”

And then our guide chimes in, “Time is ticking!”

Whoa. Really? Who does he think he is? We’ve already paid for our time. I can take a few minutes here. If I want to waste part of our time being afraid, I can.

And then I realize just how stupid that thought is. Our ride is paid for. Just one hour. Time really is ticking and then the opportunity is gone.

What about life? Time ticks here too. We just don’t readily see it. I’m busy being afraid to hit send on a dream because I want my query to be just right. I don’t want to fail.

But time is ticking.

I hopped on the driver’s seat and adjusted to holding down the throttle. It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t graceful. I hit a few waves. I screamed a bit. I drove the jet ski though. My husband and I ended up switching places somewhere out over the water. I got to see what fearless driving really looked like! It wasn’t so bad…

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And we all made it back to shore.

I’ve read about other artist’s journeys, I’ve listened to podcasts on fear and productivity. These were good, but not a kick in the pants kind of good that I needed. Who knew all I needed to do was drive a jet ski? The thing I fought against doing was the thing which taught me the greatest lesson. I’m thankful for the kid who steadied the jet ski and reminded me time is ticking.

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What fear is holding you back?

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Catching Lightning

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Weekend Wonder

I’m often driving somewhere when I look up at the sky and wish I had my camera in hand. This usually happens when driving the kids to school in the morning. How many times I’ve said, “Oh! Look at that sky! Don’t you wish we could keep heading east and watch this sunrise from the beach?” My kids usually respond with, “Mom, you say that every morning!”

But Sunday was different. Sunday was evening. I was headed to my car again, but I was stopped in my tracks by this sky. The storm clouds billowing up. Lightning rolling around inside the swell.

This Sunday show was a gift. There was no downpour, no window-rattling-thunder, just beauty and light. The storm was close but distant. This time I  went back and grabbed my camera and tripod and my son came along.

“Bye! We’re going to go catch lightning!”, he called out as we headed out the door.

The two of us walked west onto an empty golf course under the night sky. We  watched this mircale light show for twenty minutes…

and we tried to catch the lightning.

    Stop and notice God’s miracles.
 Do you know how God controls the clouds
    and makes his lightning flash?
Do you know how the clouds hang in the sky?
    They are the miracles of God, who knows everything.

-Job 37:14-16 (icb)

 

 

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To My Husband On Our Anniversary

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To my husband of 16 years,

The man who took a chance

On saying hi

At Sunrise Hall

To the girl moving in

To Room 314

We were both teenagers

You and I

Designer

Photographer

Hard worker

Dreamer

You drove me to church

In your CRX

The fast car

With the loud speakers

And sunroof open

Along A1A

You proposed

In a suit

Our toes in the sand

Ocean winds

On our skin

In the clear night sky

A barge

Anchored offshore

I said, “yes”

One simple word

Transformed us both

Now we’re thirty somethings

You and I

Father

Mother

Provider

Dreamer

We have grown up

Together

Learning

These marriage vows

Being like-minded

Having the same love

Being one

In spirit

And purpose

In humility

Putting others first

You are better

Than I

But not proud

Or arrogant

You teach me

Grace

And Love

How to say I’m sorry

And how to forgive

To laugh

To have courage

To drive a jet ski

To go after dreams

To believe the best

In a person

You are

My hero

My Mitch

My love

Who

Still drives

A fast car

With sunroof open

Along A1A

I am yours

Always

Monarch Miracle

 

A couple years ago my daughter asked for some milkweed and a caterpillar. It was a simple request with amazing results. A wonder filled spring.

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And now it’s springtime again and there’s a special kindergarten class I know studying caterpillars and butterflies. So I collected those images and videos I captured from my little girl’s wonder filled spring and made this little video to share.

I was tempted to speed up the video, but part of what makes looking at this little creature so amazing is seeing the very hungry caterpillar munch through his nice green leaf in real caterpillar speed! Nothing sped up there. They can munch apart a whole milkeed plant down to stems in no time! The other part that is truly remarkable is seeing the caterpillar spin the chrysalis. The transformation right before your eyes is extraordinary.

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These butterflies make me wonder about Walt Whitman’s poem Miracles –these little things that happen all around us everyday that are quite amazing when you get up close and really look.

“Why, who makes much of a miracle?

As to me, I know of nothing else but miracles…

To me every hour of the light and dark is a miracle…”

-Walt Whitman

IMG_5822Monarch Miracles

For Spring

For my Nature Girl

For Wonder

For Sharing

For Inspiration

For the love of Very Hungry Caterpillars

and beautiful butterflies

For Ordinary

For Transformation

For New Beginnings

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The Gift of a Dream

This is a story about my brother David. But really it’s my story. It’s a deeply personal account of faith and praying for miracles and trusting God regardless of the outcome. God gave me the gift of His love and presence in a dream. I’ve pondered this for some time and although I don’t completely understand it myself, I feel compelled to share this story with you. I want to share the goodness and gentleness of the Lord with you through this story. It’s a bit longer than I usually post, so you may want to get a nice warm cup of tea or coffee to enjoy while you read. This is my gift… Jesus2 DavidL I don’t remember hanging out with my big brother David growing up. I have memories of his T-ball trophy in his room and his team photograph, but I don’t know if I ever went to one of his games. I remember he had a lot of matchbox cars and I always loved the big red Coca Cola truck. Did he let me play with it or did I sneak in his room and play with it when he went to school? My mom says we used to fight a lot and I would get him in trouble, but I don’t remember any of that either. I don’t remember his laugh or playing together or fighting together. I do remember the day of his car accident though. I was a little four-year-old playing in my baby sister’s crib. I think I had climbed right in with her. A neighbor came in the room and said, “Your brother had an accident and we need to pray.” I don’t remember any other details that followed. Did she say car accident? Did I understand the seriousness? I don’t think I could have at that age. I just prayed. Time was marked for me and my family that morning. Somewhere in the time span which traveled the day my neighbor asked me to pray for my brother and the in-between days of growing up I learned a few details from parents of what happened that morning.  David was crossing the street to his school bus stop and was hit by a car. He suffered a severe head injury. I’ve learned now there is a new name for this, TBI, Traumatic Brain Injury. We lived in Germany at the time of my brother’s accident. My dad was in the Air Force and stationed there. I went to a German pre-school, but never learned German because the teachers would speak to me in English. David was in a coma for some time, but when he stabilized enough my dad was re-assigned to the U.S. We moved from Germany to Biloxi, Mississippi. David spent many weeks at Children’s Hospital in New Orleans. My mom and dad, along with me and my baby sister, would drive back and forth from Biloxi to New Orleans to visit David during hospital visiting hours. He eventually came home with us. My mom took on taking care of him right from the beginning. His injury left him paralyzed, unable to eat, talk, or walk. Davey could understand us though and learned to blink to communicate a simple yes or no. And always to my amazement David could still smile and laugh. We prayed as family constantly. Somewhere in the time before my brother’s accident, to his little nine-year-old body clinging to life in the hospital, God was already at work. He was there with my parents through visions and prayers. I didn’t know much about any of this as a child. But I did believe with my parents God could heal David. I believed he would. Through the years that followed my brother’s accident my family faithfully spent time in church, David right there in his wheelchair with us. I loved my Davey. I talked with him every day and played dolls with my sister on his wheelchair. And I prayed everyday God would heal him, this prayer was also always my secret birthday wish when blowing out birthday candles Sunday school would bring something completely different from wishes and prayers. I would get lost in the wonder of Sunday school lessons. The ones that made me the happiest and upset me the most were the lessons where Jesus would heal the sick people. I always imagined what it would be like if He was healing my brother instead of those people. The woman with the issue of blood who touched his garment; Jesus, if only you were here now, I would run through the crowd and touch your robe for my brother. Or what about the friends who lowered their crippled friend through the roof to Jesus? I knew I could find someone to carry David with me and lower him through that roof so Jesus could heal him and say, “Pick up your mat and walk…” I was jealous of all those sick people who had Jesus right by their side. It was wonderful and horrible. Wonderful to know a mighty God who could heal the sick, horrible because Jesus was no longer here for my brother David. I couldn’t run through crowds to find him and touch him or talk to him or ask him to come to my house. Now I’m older, no longer letting my imagination run wild in Sunday School. But I can tell you, I still get a little tense when I hear a sermon about healing.

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Easter 1987

Recently my mother in law gave me a book to read about heaven. This story was about a father and his son who suffered a horrific car accident. His little boy, by all logic, should have died. The little boy’s story is about God, angels, and heaven. His dad’s story is of prayers, angels, and miracles. The book was hard to read as I thought of David and his accident. My mind wandered in-between what ifs and hope. I played back through the years of prayer and wondered more about the divine ways of God. (Spoiler Alert) Yet, when I got to the end of the book, the final conclusion, words I was too familiar with hit me in the gut. These unanswered prayer words, “…whether he is healed here on earth or one day in heaven.” Hope and wonder left. I read those words and wanted to throw the book. Our family too had experienced God’s divine presence in the midst of my brother’s injuries. As a little girl I prayed for my brother’s healing expectantly. My mom had shared a vision she had once of an angel and another of a brain being healed. I think there may have been another story of a dead plant which bloomed aging, but I’m not sure about the details. I thought for sure I would witness David miraculously get up out of his wheelchair one day. Somewhere though, over the course of thirty years, the expectancy of healing turned to those same words uttered, “Maybe God meant David would be whole again in heaven.” Uncertainty over God’s will. Maybe God meant… I would have stood up and thrown the book in the pool right then, had it not been my mother in law’s library book. Couldn’t God just heal David now? Why a lifetime of suffering? A few months later, March 17, 2012 I was with my family visiting my in-laws again. My mother in law handed me another book to read. One look at the cover and I told her, “No thank you!”  Another book about a little boy who experiences heaven and comes back to talk about it. I told her I wasn’t interested, I wouldn’t read it, I already believed in heaven. I didn’t need to read some best seller to tell me Heaven was real. I told her how I wanted to take the other book she’d given me and chuck it the pool. Sorry Mom! Despite my earlier protests, when everyone was out of the room, I picked it up and read the back cover. What struck me was the little boy’s encounter with Jesus. I decided to find just that chapter and began to read. As I began to read I don’t think I found the little boy’s description of heaven hard to believe. I found it reassuring. But I found my self connected to his dad’s questions, and his dad’s thoughts– thinking he was alone when he was crying out to God in anger over his son being in the hospital. The little boy’s father shared something from 2 Peter 3:8,9

But do not forget this one thing, dear friends: To the Lord one day is as a thousand years, and a thousand years is as one day. The Lord is not slow in doing what he promised– the way some people understand slowness.

Can it be God? When I feel like saying, How long, O Lord, must I wait? How long, O Lord, for David to suffer? Is it really this simple for you God? Thirty years? One day is as a thousand years and a thousand years is as one day? What am I really missing this side of heaven? What don’t I understand in light of eternity? Can I really say, this is a light and momentary trouble?

For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal. 2 Corinthians 4:17,18

We left my in-law’s house late to head home. That night I had a dream. I dreamt about me and David. We were little kids and we were playing together. In my dream I knew we were near a castle and we were running through grass. He was ahead of me and I was chasing after him. I had a little cane with plaques on it and he had a cane too. His was bigger than mine and had more plaques on it. I had never had a dream of my brother and I before. When I woke up I was thinking of this dream, but there was also a word, Stute-Guard. This is how the word sounded to me. It’s hard to describe, but I kept going over and over it. I didn’t understand it, but I thought it was German. I decided to see if I could look up this word online. I was excited and nervous. I hoped the word might mean healing or miracle in German. I was almost afraid to look it up. I felt completely ridiculous because I don’t even know German and wasn’t even sure if it was a real word or a nonsensical dream word. I found a translator app online, German to English, and I started to type in my word. A word I wasn’t even sure was real, let alone how to spell correctly. As I started to type, the word came up, Stuttgart. I clicked on  the translate button… “Stuttgart, city in southwestern Germany, capital of the state of Baden-Wuettemberg”.  I was shocked and even more intrigued. I don’t know anything about the places or geography of Germany. We had left soon after my fourth birthday. I started to look up more information. I read about Stuttgart on Wikipedia and found this: “A number of significant castles stand in Stuttgart’s suburbs and beyond as reminders of the city’s royal past.” Wow Lord! My dream was more than nonsense. The word you gave me was real. I couldn’t help but smile as I thought of me and David running around together somewhere near a castle. The word didn’t mean healing or miracle, but I knew the dream was a gift. The Lord sees my heart and he knows. He holds David in his hands and he cares for him in a way I can’t comprehend. I waited till night to call my mom and talk to her about the dream. I was nervous, but I wanted to know more. Maybe she knew something about my dream that I didn’t. I asked her about Stuttgart. Had she ever heard of it? “Oh yes. We visited there with Grandma and Grandpa. They had good friends who lived there and we took a trip with them. It was just before David’s accident.” She said it all so matter of fact, which of course I suppose it was, but for me it was like discovering a secret treasure! I was more in awe. There is so much about God I fail to understand. He brings me these treasures in the midst of my anger and tears.

What is man that you take thought of him, and the son of man that you care for him? Psalm 8:4

I called my dad later. He filled me in on more details about our trip. It was May, 1983. My Grandma and Grandpa came to visit us in Germany and we traveled together. We drove through the Black Forrest and stopped along the way at a castle named Hohenzollern, south of Stuttgart. This was a Saturday. Then we drove on to visit my grandparent’s friend in Stuttgart, a history professor. My dad told me David’s accident was the following Wednesday. Dear God, this dream, this gift of a memory with my brother, this was the last time I ran and played together with my brother before he was paralyzed. I was amazed by it all, every little detail, adding to and confirming this dream and gift. After my chat with my dad I received an e-mail from my Grandma Betty. She was on that trip to Stuttgart. She said she had talked to my dad and he had mentioned I was sad about David’s accident. I didn’t have time right then to e-mail her back with the details of my dream. I wrote back and told her, I had always been sad over my brother, but I was talking to dad because I had a dream and I was curious. She sent back a reply. I was in awe once again!

“Ah, Laura, I do love you so much…One thing I remember about that trip was when we went to a beautiful garden and you and David really upset me. I couldn’t do anything about it because it was up to your Mom and Dad. I just remember you and David racing through the gardens, full of joy, but with no regard for anyone else, dodging, running into the other’s paths, etc.”

More confirmation of images from my dream. And imagine this very little thing, me chasing my brother around, running after him, this one last gift for my brother and I before his accident. One last chance to run free, legs pumping hard for a boundless and reckless boy, before those legs would be stopped. A gift frozen in time. A memory given to me thirty years later. What if my Grandma had spoken up all those years ago and stopped us from running together? Funny how she thought about it, but decided not to. Strange for her to share those thoughts with me thirty years later. I think of this now when I see my two running reckless. I talked with my dad again more about David and his accident. He told me more details of our trip and the time leading up to David’s injury. We talked about God and faith and trust. He asked me if mom had told me about what David had said to her before the accident. No, she hadn’t. This is what he shared with me- My eight year old brother came to her and said he had a dream. He said Jesus came to him and told him something was going to happen to him, but he would be okay because Jesus would be with him. Jesus would be with him. All these years I’ve longed to find Jesus. To have him near like the disciples did. To walk and talk with him and run frantic to find him and ask him to heal a paralyzed boy. He was already here. He was here with my brother before the car touched his little body. He’s been here the whole time. Mary Magdalene went looking for Jesus too. She was talking right to him. She was begging him to take her to Jesus. She didn’t even know it was him. “Woman, why are you crying? Who is it you are looking for?” He was already by her side, right there with her! God, please give me the faith to remember you are already here in our midst, even when I can’t see.

Davidmom

Mom and David 1975

Dad and David 1975

Dad and David 1975

Me 18 months and David 6 years

Me 18 months and David 6 years

Me, My Sis, and David

Me, My Sis, and David

Davey

Davey

These photos are from my Grandma Betty who was with us in Germany. She asked if I’d like to have them. Yes! Please! What a gift!

My mom with me, David, Heidi, and Grandma and Grandpa with their friend in Stuttgart

My mom with me, David, Heidi, and Grandma and Grandpa with their friend in Stuttgart

My Mom with me, Heid, and David in a garden in Stuttgart- David has his cane with the plaques on it

My Mom with me, Heid, and David in a garden in Stuttgart -David has his cane with the plaques on it

Saying goodbye to Grandma and Grandpa at the train station. I think days before his accident.

Saying goodbye to Grandma and Grandpa at the train station. I think just days before David’s accident.

All grown up, playing infront of a castle again.

All grown up, playing in front of a castle again

David

My brother Davey