Memories of Treasures Long Ago

Dad_Robin Lk Lavine (2)

J. G. Gilbert & Robin Gilbert Luftig at Lake Lavine, MI, Summer 1958

Even though my family of origin was pretty dysfunctional, one of my favorite pastimes, when I’m feeling a bit low, is to remember stories about my dad and how he honored my feelings and held them close to his heart.

I always jumped at the chance to be with Dad in his room—the Gun Room. It was a treat to steal away with him when he went upstairs to his room. He kept guns, cameras, family photos and film equipment, and special sentimental pieces from his childhood there. I am certain he kept us out for our own protection when it came to the guns. We were all told the only time we were allowed to go in there by ourselves was if the house was on fire and we could safely get the family’s 8mm films out and save them from being destroyed. Other than that, the Gun Room was strictly off limits. Whenever I saw him in there, I would beg to join him. And he always obliged. While he worked away on whatever project he was concentrating on, I looked around his private sanctuary with marvel. I would fold my arms behind my back holding tightly on to my wrists, just to make sure I did not touch anything. I did not want to run the risk of inadvertently grabbing for something and causing harm.

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What Will (or Did) You Ponder?

Looking through my blog I was interested to see what my very first post was. I had made a website and had wisdom to share with the world! While it may be a bit sophomoric, I’m happy to see some things don’t change. Continue reading

Are You Being Nudged?

Six years ago, Life was Perfect—until it wasn’t. Or was it still Perfect while changing direction?

Six years ago I didn’t have a care in the world. I still considered myself a newlywed after four years of marriage to the man of my dreams. My job fulfilled me professionally. My kids were happy and healthy. My local church embraced me with an unyielding love.

But I had no idea what was coming. Without realizing it, God had nudged me into preparation for what was to follow.

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Valentine’s Day Every Day

Lew & Robin 2015I saw a post on social media to all those who say they don’t celebrate Valentine’s Day. He charged that it was a cop-out when they say, “We celebrate Valentine’s Day every day. This is just a commercial holiday!”

I know some folks believe that, but this was my reply.

“Sorry, but I’m one of those gals who isn’t moved by Valentine’s Day cards. I watch guys stand in front of the card section at the grocery store, looking at each other, trying to figure out what would cost the least amount of money and effort to check off the list that they put effort into the holiday. These attitudes don’t do anything for me.

“Instead, this is what moves me to tears …
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What’s Your Yardstick?

measure-successHow do you measure success? As an author, do you measure it by the number of your published books? Do you measure it by the size if your Social Media platform?

I am a writer/divorce/brain tumor survivor/child of God. God has blessed me with experiencing many avenues of pain. I pull from these experiences every time I speak to others about the mercy and grace of my Heavenly Father. I understand many of these people. I’ve experienced lots of their types of pain. I know these feelings–as well as the comfort and healing power of God–are real.

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Caution: Bad Temper Ahead

hand-and-brainBrain injuries and bad tempers seem to go together. After my brain surgery, I had little tolerance for others if their opinions or actions differed from what I thought was appropriate. I thank God for the grace others offered me. They assured me that they knew how I had acted before the doctors found my brain tumor. They trusted the sweet Robin would eventually return. Continue reading

Memories of Treasures Long Ago

Dad_Robin Lk Lavine (2)

J. G. Gilbert & Robin Gilbert Luftig at Lake Lavine, MI, Summer 1958

Even though my family of origin was pretty dysfunctional, one of my favorite pastimes when I’m feeling a bit low is to remember stories about my dad and how he honored my feelings and held them close to his heart.

I always jumped at the chance to be with Dad in his room—the Gun Room. It was a treat to steal away with him when he went upstairs to his room. He kept guns, cameras, family photos and film equipment, and special sentimental pieces from his childhood there. I am certain he kept us out for our own protection when it came to the guns. We were all told the only time we were allowed to go in there by ourselves was if the house was on fire and we could safely get the family’s 8mm films out and save them from being destroyed. Other than that, the Gun Room was strictly off limits. Whenever I saw him in there, I would beg to join him. And he always obliged. While he worked away on whatever project he was concentrating on, I looked around his private sanctuary with marvel. I would fold my arms behind my back holding tightly on to my wrists, just to make sure I did not touch anything. I did not want to run the risk of inadvertently grabbing for something and causing harm.

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When Making Amends Isn’t Enough

doorI felt the clamminess of my palms as I rang her doorbell. She and I had been friends years ago, but the choices I had made now separated us. Would she entertain rekindling a relationship with me again?

I went to her house to tell her I was sorry for doing the things I had done—that I hoped she could forgive me for all my foolishness and sinful behavior. I wanted to tell her I realized I hadn’t taken into consideration how others would be affected by my actions. That I had made a real mess of things—my life. I wanted to say I was sorry.

I wanted to tell her there was good news! I had learned from my mistakes. I had turned the corner. I was on the way to becoming the person God intended me to be. I had hoped she’d be happy for me. I thought she’d celebrate a Prodigal Daughter finding her way back home.

That’s what I thought. But I was wrong.
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Using Words that Count

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Our hearts are full of love as we set a course full of good things when we hold our swaddled babies in our arms. We never want heartache and pain to enter their little worlds.

But it does, and sometimes we can’t save them.

Take a moment and read Beth Miesse Saadati’s latest post, It Shouldn’t Have End This Way: The Epilogue to My Daughter’s Suicide Note. Beth has felt pain no parent should feel. Maybe her words can be used to reach that special person, letting them know that they are loved.

Our children need to hear us–really hear what we say–when we tell them bad situations don’t last forever. They need to know they matter; that they fill our lives with joy every day.

Love you, Beth, and am praying for you and your family..

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