Monday, July 13, 2009


Sometimes you run across stories that never leave you no matter how long ago it was you read them. This is one of them. I have been thinking a lot about it lately and a friend of mine found it on the Internet for me. Please read it to the end. It is one of the most emotional stories I've ever read and illustrates Jesus dying for us in a most poignant way. If you've read it before, read it again. It grips the heart.....


The day is over, you are driving home. You tune in your radio. There is a little blurb about a little village in India where some villagers died suddenly, strangely, of a flu that has never been seen before. It is not influenza, but three or four fellows are dead. It’s kind of interesting and thay are sending some doctors over there to investigate it. You don’t think much about it.

On Sunday coming home from church you hear another radio spot. Only this time it is not three villagers; its 30,000 villagers in the back hills of this particular area of India. That night it is even on TV. CNN runs a little story: People are heading there from the disease center in Atlanta because this disease strain has never been seen before. Monday morning when you get up it is the lead story. Only now it is not just India, it is Pakistan, Afghanistan and Iran. Before you know it, you are hearing this story everywhere, and they have coined it as “The Mystery Flu”.

Even the President has some comment that he and everyone are praying and hoping that all will go well over there. But people are starting to wonder, “How are we going to contain it?” Then the President of France made an announcement that shocked the entire world. He is closing their borders. No flights from India, Pakistan or any of the countries this thing has been seen. That night you are watching a little bit of CNN before going to bed. Your jaw hits your chest when a weeping woman is translated from a French news program into English. There’s a man lying in a hospital in Paris dying of the mystery flu. It has come to Europe. Panic strikes. As best you can tell, once you get it, you have it for a week and you don’t know it. Then you have four days of unbelievable symptoms. Then you die. Britain is closing its borders, but it is too late. South Hampton, Liverpool, North Hampton. Tuesday morning, the President of the United States makes the following announcement: “Due to a national security risk, all flights to and from Europe and Asia have been canceled. If your loved ones are overseas, I’m sorry. They cannot come back until we find a cure for this thing.”

Within four days our nation has been plunged into an unbelievable fear. People are selling little masks for your face. Many are talking about “What if it comes to this country?” and a preacher on the news suggested that this is “The scourge of God”. On Wednesday night, you are at church for a meeting. Suddenly someone runs in and shouts “Turn on a radio, turn on a radio!” And while you listen to the little transistor radio the announcement is made, “Two women are lying in a Long Island hospital dying from the mystery flu.” Within hours, it seems this thing sweeps across the country. People are working around the clock trying to find an antidote, but nothing is working. Then all of a sudden the news comes out. That has been broken. A cure can be found. A vaccine can be made. It is going to take the blood of somebody who hasn’t been infected. Sure enough, all through the Midwest on those channels of emergency broadcasting, everyone is asked to do one simple thing. Go to your downtown hospital and have your blood type taken. That’s all we ask of you. When you hear the sirens go off in your neighborhood, please make your way quickly, quietly and safely to the hospitals.

When you and your family get down there on a Friday night, there is a long line, and they have nurses and doctors coming out and pricking fingers and taking blood and putting labels on it. They tell you “Wait here in the parking lot and if we call your name, you can be dismissed and go home.” So you stand around, scared, talking with your neighbors and wondering together about what in the world is going on. Is this the end of the world?

Suddenly a young man comes out of the hospital screaming. He’s yelling a name and waving a clipboard. He yells it again. Your son tugs on your jacket and says, “Daddy, that’s me.” Before you know it, they have grabbed your boy. They say, “Its okay, his blood is clean. His blood is pure. We want to make sure he doesn’t have the disease. We think he has got the right type.”

Five minutes later out come the doctors and the nurses crying and hugging one another. Some are even laughing. It is the first time you have seen anyone laugh in a week. An old doctor walks up to you and says, “Thank you, sir. Your son’s blood type is perfect. It is clean and pure and we can make the vaccine.”

As the word begins to spread across the parking lot, people start praying and laughing and crying. But then the gray-haired doctor pulls you and your wife aside and says “May we see you for a moment? We didn’t realize that the donor would be a minor and we need you to sign a consent form.” You begin to sign and then you see that the number of pints of blood to be taken is empty. “How many pints are you going to take?” you ask. That’s when the old doctor’s smile fades and he says, “we had no idea it would be a little child and we weren’t prepared. We need it all! But you see, we are talking about the world here. Please sign the form.”

“But can’t you give him a transfusion?” you ask. The doctor responds, “If we had clean blood we would. Would you sign?”

In numb silence you do. Then they say, “would you like to have a moment with him before we begin?” Can you walk back to that room?

When you are there, your son asks, “Mommy? Daddy? What’s going on?” Can you take his hands and say, “Son, your mommy and I love you and we would never let anything happen to you that didn’t have to be. Do you understand that?”

Then the old doctor comes back in and says “I’m sorry. We’ve got to get started. People all over the world are dying.”

Can you leave? Can you walk out while he is saying, “Mom, Dad? Why have you forsaken me?”

And the next week when they have the ceremony to honor your son and some folks sleep through it and some folks don’t even come because they go to the lake and some folks come with a pretentious smile and just pretend to care. Would you want to jump up and say, “MY SON DIED! DON’T YOU CARE?”

Do you suppose that’s what God wants to say? “My Son died. Don’t you know much I care?”

Father, seeing it from your eyes breaks hearts. Maybe now we can begin to comprehend the great love you have for us. AMEN.

Monday, June 15, 2009


A lot of people tell me I have such a way with words and writing that I should do more with it. Be that as it may, I happen to agree with you. I do wish I had a, how should I put it, more evolved vocabulary. You know, the use of bigger words. Words that, writer’s know and others don’t. Words that sound great but mean the same as a smaller, often more used word. I’ve thought of going through the dictionary, one word at a time and learning them. Quite a task to take on though...don’t you think? Recently I’ve read several books that had words in them that only by reading the sentence several times over did I even begin to understand what the word meant. Not that I ever actually figured out its literal meaning but I at least had an idea of what the author meant by the use of the word. I like those words. But I do know this much. If I ever do get to write my first novel, or any novel, I will never use the word “proverbial”. I bet you didn’t know I hate that word. I read three novels in a row and they each used that word several times. I mean, how does that happen? I felt bored. I will never use that word. It drives me nuts. There’s got to be a better word to use than that one to get the meaning across. Don’t you think?

One time in high school we were asked to write a “how-to” paper. My teacher liked mine the best. Do you know why? Because I wrote on how to write a good letter. She thought it was a unique topic. I believe she would approve of this one. I told my readers to begin with something other than, “Hello, how are you?” or “ Hi, how are you doing?”. I think that is the most mundane of beginnings. I strive to be a little more original than that. What do you think? I like keeping things interesting.

It seems all of my friends are so busy they barely have time to breathe; however, I have lots of time to breathe and little time to be busy. Why? Because I hate being bored or busy. It seems that puts me in a bit of a conundrum. (I do know a few big words.) So I don’t do anything or I do everything in one day. So my house is absolutely a mess and yet I feel no desire most days to do a thing about it, yet, at the same time I abhor the very look of it and wish I could make it all go away. And I can. But it takes time and effort and who in the world wants to do that when they can sit and be fat and go places? Well, I’ve learned something this week. I want to do it. I want to put that time and energy and effort into it. I want to make it nice. At least, as nice as I can while my sofa’s fall apart and my carpet gets dirty an hour after I just shampooed it.

I wrote a poem one time about being nice and neat looking on the outside but having cobwebs and dust on the inside. What people see looks better when it is all made up nicely than if they look deeper and see the ugly stuff on the other side. I am not the pretty person on the inside anymore that everyone told me I was growing up. I always wanted to be beautiful like my sister when I was younger; however, everyone has told me how beautiful I am on the inside and that matters more than being beautiful on the outside. To a degree, I don’t believe that. I believe that if someone looks beautiful on the inside, they should at least make the attempt to do so on the outside too. So, that brings me back to my house. It neither is pretty on the outside nor in, but I’m beginning to feel God would have me try. Try to do my best to please Him by getting it all done.

I keep telling myself I’m going to go back to college but I keep putting off going and getting registered. Why? Because it is one more thing on my already loaded plate of stuff in my head and life. I always feel so overwhelmed by everything. And my physical problems are still there. Still dizzy some, still have some head pain, still too tired some days to do anything but sit or sleep. Still getting headaches, sometimes migraines. Still can’t drive on the highway. Maybe if I took up swigging down coffee in the wee morning hours I could actually get something more done than fall back asleep after they go out the door to school and he goes off to work. Hmmm...There’s a thought. I used to like coffee. Maybe I just need to laugh more, smile more, or some such thing. Who really knows?

And then there’s, yes, the God thing. What would I really be like if I let God back into my life fully. What would I really be like if I let myself believe again. Fully. What would I get accomplished if I became fully alive in His Spirit once again. Oh, I know what I would be like. I’ve been that way many years ago.... So why don’t I do it? Hmmm...there’s an even bigger thought. Or is it that I’ve been so bored for so long that now that I don’t want to be I’ve let Satan get under my skin. Into my head and heart and allowed him to be more than he ever should’ve been? Yes. I believe that is what it is. Now, to go and let God do the unbelievable, the impossible, the unthinkable. Oh, nothing is impossible with God. That I know. As you can tell, I know many things. But do I believe inside my heart and mind that any of it is true? Yes. A bit. I do. Okay. More than a bit. I mean, how does one leave behind 33 years of being saved and a believer? One doesn’t. That I have figured out in the last few years. But in the passed three years especially. So here’s what I really want to say...

God forgives. He forgets. He removes and He covers all the guilt, all the past, all the stain. He will cleanse, He will mend and He’ll do it again and you ask me why I praise His name? In my heart He sees nothing to blame! (Written and sung by Dave Brubaker.) Over the past few years God has healed and blessed more than you or I could imagine!

So what do I do with this? I BELIEVE. I GO BACK. I GO TO THE GOD WHO HAS CHERISHED ME, WAITED FOR ME, LOVED ME. He loves me, He loves me not, HE LOVES ME!!!! I want to sing again. I want to dance. I want to be with JESUS. And I want to share this with you. Why? I’ve lived through 33 years of faith, and yet where is that faith? I tried, really, I did, to throw it away. To get rid of it. But God doesn’t let us do that. He keeps reminding us that we are His and we are worth being His. Somewhere, somehow, at some time, He’s going to knock us down and shine a huge light on us and say, “Why child are you kicking at the bricks?” Why are you doing this? Well, its been my turn and I’m not going to give up now.

I want to get my head on straight. Go back to college and earn a degree in English. I want to write a novel and be published. I want to enjoy life. Enjoy my family. Enjoy being me. Lose the act. Lose the feeling of being out of my element. Let everyone see Marcie for who she really is. Have you met her? I know one day you will. And when you do, let me know. I’ll know what you are talking about. All you have to say is, “Hello Marcie, it is so nice to finally meet you!” Yes, I’ll know what that means. It is time. Time to trust God. To believe God. To be His child again.

Ecclesiastes 3
A Time for Everything
1 There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven:
2 a time to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to uproot,
3 a time to kill and a time to heal, a time to tear down and a time to build,
4 a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance,
5 a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them, a time to embrace and a time to refrain,
6 a time to search and a time to give up, a time to keep and a time to throw away,
7 a time to tear and a time to mend, a time to be silent and a time to speak,
8 a time to love and a time to hate, a time for war and a time for peace.
9 What does the worker gain from his toil?
10 I have seen the burden God has laid on men.
11 He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the hearts of men; yet they cannot fathom what God has done from beginning to end.
12 I know that there is nothing better for men than to be happy and do good while they live.
13 That everyone may eat and drink, and find satisfaction in all his toil—this is the gift of God. 14 I know that everything God does will endure forever; nothing can be added to it and nothing taken from it. God does it so that men will revere him. (NIV)

And one more thing I’ve learned:

2 Corinthians 5:17 (King James Version)
17 Therefore if any man be in Christ, he is a new creature: old things are passed away; behold, all things are become new.

From My Heart,
Marcie :-)♪
Psalm 32:7

Wednesday, May 13, 2009


Heart Thoughts...

Thoughts from my heart to yours on things I love and adore. Poetry, books, music and more...I am sharing my heart of these things I enjoy.