If Autumn was Yesterday...

I have always loved fall...I had always looked forward to it with such great anticipation when I was young and when my children were young...their 1st days of school...the beginning of a new academic year for them...new friends to be made and new and exciting challenges to be met...the sharpening of new pencils...the eager nervous chatter about meeting their new teachers and which familiar friends were going to be in their class...the crisp blank sheets of paper tightly bound in a new notebook...a fresh start!

As I drive home from the mall today...you guessed it, school shopping... Levi and Shannon are in the backseat graciously tolerating the country tunes that Josh has selected for our listening pleasure. Josh is riding shotgun and his deep smooth voice comforts me as he sings along to the Ron Pope love song, "Drop in the Ocean." I know he is thinking and pining away for his girl, who has gone off to school, as he sings each heartfelt lyric...while secretly I am thinking about him with each heartfelt lyric. The late August sun flickers through the car windows and though, the leaves aren't changing as early as some Augusts' past, the air is dryer than it was even a week ago and it is obvious change is in the air.

Autumn is coming and in two weeks I will not be wearing a pathetic attempt at a brave smile while I wave to him as he climbs aboard a yellow school bus. No. In two weeks I will most likely be clinging to him for dear life, not wanting to let go, while he tolerates my separation anxiety with his embarrassed crooked grin, the one where only the right side of his mouth goes up into a smile and with a roll of his eyes he'll peel me off of him. At least that is how I envision his departure as he heads to Georgia... to his new family... the United States Army. I will not be welcoming him home by 3 that same afternoon, eager to hear about his day while he eats his snack and tells me all about the new friends he's made and his deep psycho-analysis of his new teacher. No. I have no idea when I will hear from him once he leaves. I will have no idea who he is meeting and what his worries are... what he likes best... what he hates or what his deep psycho-analysis is about his superiors.

I reach over and touch his arm and I don't know why but for some reason I am surprised that it is the arm of a man. It is covered with soft hair...lots of it! And the baby skin that I used to covetously caress is gone...has been for quite some time now, he is 21 after-all. I look over at his broad handsome features as he sings along with Ron Pope to/about his girl... He is not thinking of me. I am no longer his world. He has found someone who fills his thoughts...as it should be. But for me, he is all I can think of lately. I am awe struck by this man next to me. He is not what I picture in my thoughts...in my thoughts he is "Joshy" my wonderfully plump baby...my anxious little boy...my obnoxious teenager...my talkative friend. Where did the time go? It seems like just yesterday that he was strapped into his car seat behind me, pushing on the back of my seat with his powerfully strong and restless feet while he babbled and growled his baby sounds. He always loved to talk. Even before he could talk, he was talking....moving... exploring...always restless to go, go, go!

During our drive home from the mall, Josh frequently interrupts my thoughts, telling me about the artist, Ron Pope. He tells me the background of each song we listen to and about Ron's broken heart due to his fiance dying in a tragic car crash 3 weeks before their wedding, which is what inspired the album. He tells me that Ron is from Boston and his fiance was from Belgrade... he talks and sings and sings and talks. He talks about his Emily and about running and other PT he is doing. He talks about my terrible driving and this and that and before I know it, we are home.

Autumn will be here before I know it too. The Pumpkin Festival will come and go. The leaves will burst into fiery color and each fall breeze will pluck them from their fragile tethers and whisk them away as if they never were. Thanksgiving will come and go. The cold breath of winter will bring its gray sky as we all scurry to finish up last minute Christmas shopping. Josh says he'll be home for Christmas...

I don't think I much care anymore for the change that Fall brings.

I LOVE you Joshy! You changed my life when you came into it! I am so thankful that the Lord privileged me with raising you!

My Dream

I had a dream in the early morning. The kids were all little again. Josh was about 4, Levi was 2, Chris was 3 and Cote was 4. In reality their ages don't make sense but in the dream world this all made perfect sense. Also Josh wasn't really just 4 in this dream he was the Josh he is now... 21...yet he was 4.

We were all going for a walk. We had the stroller filled with the babies...Chris and Levi. Cote was holding my hand. Cote was impatient and tugging on my hand and sighing heavily as we talked with Josh before leaving on our walk. Josh wanted to stay home with the little baby... but he was torn between REALLY REALLY wanting to go on the walk with us and REALLY REALLY wanting to show us that He was a big boy that could baby sit his baby brother. He stood at the screen door watching us walk towards the sidewalk. Kevin and the others were growing impatient with me as I wanted to go back and check with Josh one more time before leaving.

I walked up to the screen door and asked Josh one more time "You sure you don't want to go with us?" I could tell by his face that he really wanted both, to come with us and to stay.

"Yep" he replied "I'm gonna watch the baby...I'm sure" The baby made a fussing in the background shadows and I couldn't really see him. Josh retreated into the shadows too, towards the baby and I could hear him saying "Don't worry baby I'm here with you." in a sweet sing song voice.

"I'm sure mumma just go." He said looking up at me and dramatically rolling his eyes as he stepped out of the shadows carrying the baby in his arms. I just stood there not wanting to go.

"I'm surrrre" he said once more in an exasperated whispery sigh.

"Okay then, well.... we won't be gone long" I told him. I walked back out to where the rest of the family was waiting in their typical patiently, impatient fashion and as we started to walk down the street, I turned to look one more time towards the house and watched as little Joshy stood in the door way holding his baby brother...who I couldn't really see because he was all bundled up.

I woke up and as the fog of sleep lifted I knew the baby he was holding was Isaiah.

I know I have a lot of concerns about Josh going into the Rangers in the troubled times our world is in and I remember in the dream feeling as if it were a final goodbye in the earthly realm.

My heart is struggling with letting go....again!

BTW: please know this was only a dream and in the real world I would NEVER leave a 4 year old home alone...let alone to watch a baby!!! :)

Where Do I Begin?

Where do I begin a testimony that has no ending? I thought about this question for a while before my fingers began clicking away at the keys of my laptop. My mind kept rolling around the thought that, the Lord is still continuing to write my story... our stories. How do I know what the meaning of the culmination of my life is thus far... if I did, wouldn't I be so comforted in knowing that every peg was neatly placed in its hole? Then of course that got me to thinking that if every peg was neatly placed in its hole and it all made sense then would I really even have a testimony at all?

That's just it! Every peg is not neatly placed in its hole and every hole is not round to fit a peg. There are so many pieces and parts to a life story that it hardly ever seems to make sense. Sometimes we just don't have the understanding and sometimes we need to know that not knowing is enough.

I have learned that trusting and faith are an ongoing process and that the Lord portions these out on an as needed basis. Of course I will forget this again soon and the Lord with His tireless sovereignty will continue to patiently remind me. Just when I think I have it figured out and am comforted by my own "understanding" and "knowledge" of what I think the Lord was trying to teach me or how He was refining me...(aka...pride & man's logic with a dose of the world's wisdom thrown in for good measure) ...the boat begins to rock again and the storms begin to rise again and I realize how little I actually trust and how little my faith really is, as I grip the boat rails, white-knuckled and roll my eyes, thinking "Here we go again..."

I'm feeling a little PTSD about "life" these days... what with everything we have been through since April 2007 and all. I have begun to notice a pattern that I have developed in my relationship with the Lord when I sense the storms beginning to rage again. It begins with my disbelief or denial that God would allow me/us to go through anymore hardships right now... I am so sure of what of the Lord will or will not do. Uh-oh reminder to self: I should NEVER put God in a box! Have I learned anything? No. Nothing.

Then I realize God absolutely can and will allow the storms to continue to rage, so that He can continue the good work He has started in me. I accept that my refinement is going to continue, even amidst such already fresh and still hurting wounds. So goes my transition into the acceptance phase. Only I still do not fully trust the Lord to protect me, so I begin to strategize. "Wily like a serpent. peaceful like a dove" I tell myself. (Matthew 10:16 (KJV) Behold, I send you forth as sheep in the midst of wolves: be ye therefore wise as serpents, and harmless as doves.)

I try to finish in the flesh, what began in the spirit. (Galatians 3:3 (KJV) Are ye so foolish? having begun in the Spirit, are ye now made perfect by the flesh?) This is always a big, huge, enormous NO-NO. I am slapped down so hard by the storm that I am left water logged and tear stained with my ears ringing. I feel confused, abandoned and betrayed by the Lord. Have I learned anything? No. Nothing.

My feelings of betrayal and abandonment lead to my angry phase... I raise my tiny clenched fist and shake it at the Lord. I demand that He acknowledge my obedience and willingness. I demand that He take notice that I have been a faithful steward. I demand that He "use" someone else for a while. I make many demands, all the while knowing once I finish with my tantrum that the Lord will still be waiting patiently. I do not mean to make light of this phase, this is a truly gut wrenching phase to which often times I never want to leave. Anger is comfortable and familiar to my flesh. I threaten to turn from God during this phase. Telling Him that, "He can only use me to fulfill His will for His glory, if I am willing. So what if I weren't willing?" I bluff. I know I am bluffing despite the fact that I really don't want to bluff this time. I behave much like a child that threatens to runaway and only makes it to the front step before turning around and stubbornly stomping back into the house. With a sour look on my face and my arms crossed I let the Lord know I am willing but I am not happy about it.

At which point I enter my bargaining phase. "Well okay Lord I'll accept the process but you could do it this way or that way" or "How about while I'm busy waging this storm if you just take care of that over there then...kay?" or "if you reveal yourself in this way Lord, by answering this prayer, like this, then I will feel stronger in my faith to take that on" As if I should have the answers or position to bargain with the Lord...my Creator...Creator of ALL things?! Who am I to think I should have anything worth bargaining for with the Creator of ALL things?! I know what is coming next and my bargaining phase is usually just my attempt at delaying the next phase. Have I learned anything? No. Nothing.

Now if I allowed myself to get stuck here I would become engulfed in self condemnation I would be swallowed whole by the storm and the accumulating attacks coming at me... rather I slowly and gingerly step into my next phase with Him which is the phase of surrender. I finally submit to His will because ultimately I know that what I want is, His will for my life. A prayer I have prayed so many times... "His will to be planted like a seed as the desires of my heart." Aah the fruition of answered prayer and the long-suffering that comes in order to be like clay in the potter's hands. I confess and repent and ask "to be emptied of myself and for the Holy Spirit to fill me, that I might be used as a vessel of the Lord." I finally surrender completely and delve whole-heartedly into His Word suiting up in the Lord's armor, I go into daily and constant fellowship with Holy Spirit. I am reminded of the bliss-full contentment that settles around me as the storm continues to rage all around me, yet in this realm of divine grace I am focused solely on the Lord. The storms raging all around me disappear from my heart and mind and soul but not because the circumstances have changed...no the circumstances haven't changed, not for the better anyway and The Lord hasn't changed He is the same yesterday, today and tomorrow. So what changed? Me. I changed.

I chose to step out in faith again and to trust in the Lord and He has been faithful as ever to portion out His grace for me again. Yet all the while around me, it would seem my circumstances should dictate otherwise, I am at complete divine peace because I am also reminded that I am not fighting for victory I am fighting from victory! You see this was never MY testimony or MY battle or MY story to begin with. It was His all along. His testimony, His battle, His story and He is the author and has already written the ending of this story. He is the victor! He will triumph gloriously!

How is it, that though I have been here many times I forget so quickly how magnificent it is, not only to be in my Father's arms but in His army? I am reminded of the disciples who traveled with Jesus while he walked the earth as a man... Jesus had multiplied the fish and the loaves to feed the multitude... the disciples had just witnessed this miracle and yet the next day or a few days later (I'm not sure of the exact time lapse) the disciples were in angst again about how they were yet again going to feed the multitude with only a few fish and a few loaves... even though they had just witnessed Jesus' miracle a few days prior?! This imagery provides a perfect perspective for me to understand that the grace of the Lord is supplied in perfect portion for today's demands. We need to daily go to the cross and petition for today's supply of grace, faith, trust and peace. We are not meant to worry about tomorrow, today (Matthew 6:34 (KJV) Take therefore no thought for the morrow: for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself. Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.)

I am so grateful for the Lord's sovereign grace already in supply and just waiting for me to receive it...waiting for me to say "Yes Lord I will ride with you!"

The Escape Part III

For this week's Magpie Tales writing prompt I am still continuing with The Escape from the last 2 weeks' story line. If you didn't have a chance to read the last 2 weeks' you may want to read those first. To follow along read The Escape Part I and The Escape Part II in my blog archive.

The Escape Part III


She felt a crushing pain and everything went black....

Her head was pounding. She couldn’t tell if her eyes were open or not... she thought they were but all she could see was blackness. Where was she? She dared not move a muscle. She strained her eyes as much as she could to see if they really were open? She noticed that she could no longer hear the rushing of the river and there was no summer breeze to lick away at the oppressive heat. She could smell gasoline and could feel a steady vibration...it was beginning to dawn on her that she was no longer in the woods but in some kind of vehicle! But why was it so dark? If she was laying on the floor of a vehicle she would still be able to see at least its headlights or the headlights of oncoming vehicles.

She was so disoriented. What happened? Where was she? Think Angela think! ‘What was the last thing you remember?’ It was all coming back to her, she had been running from Steve in the woods running to find the locked box she had buried. She slowly moved her hands up towards her face to feel and see if her eyes were indeed open or if she was blindfolded. She felt the heat flushed on her face and winced as her fingers traced over a cut near her temple and then to her lashes....she could feel that her eyes were open and that she wasn’t blindfolded but she still couldn’t figure out why it was so dark? She noticed she was laying on her side...the side that had taken the brunt of her slip down the embankment. Her cuts and scrapes were really burning now as her sweat emitted traces of salt into them. Her ribs felt as if they were being crushed all over again...they were definitely bruised. Her head was a steady thumping mixed with a sharp shearing pain. They hit a bump that jostled her a bit...she had learned how not to scream out in pain and bit at the inside of her lower lip. She noticed a red light flash on for a second before completely going dark again. ‘That bastard’ she thought ‘I’m in the trunk of his car!’ Feeling a little more freedom to move... knowing she was hidden away from his view... she tried to turn over slightly...to take some of the weight off of her bruised and battered side. But she didn’t get very far her legs were just too long and her knees hit the top...she couldn’t tell which way she was facing for sure but she guessed she was facing towards the back though all she had to base this on was the flash of red light. She panicked for a moment as she remembered the key... she felt around for her necklace...it was still there!

The heat and humidity in the trunk was heavy and she was struggling to take a cleansing breath. How long had she been unconscious? Where was he taking her? If he was taking her home they would have been there by now? Wait! How did they get to his car? Steve was strong but there is no way he could have carried her back up that embankment!? He would have had to have carried her out by the road access.

Landon... Landon had been waiting there for her! What if Steve had seen him? Her face got prickly and fear seized her as she began to worry about what Steve could have possibly done to her big brother! He was all she had left in this world and finally after all these years they were reunited. Well she reasoned to herself logically... Steve had never met Landon so at least he wouldn’t recognize him... but what if he thought Landon was her lover waiting to carry her off into the moonlit night... away from him?! What if Steve hurt him in a jealous rage?! Why else would Landon be sitting on the side of the road on the same night that she escaped? Steve would jump to conclusions. He always accused her of having an affair... he was not lucid when he got jealous!

She wanted to cry. She wanted to scream. She was sure that Landon was dead. she was sure she would never escape Steve unless it was through death. She just wanted to give up...to die. The tears stung as they seeped out... her sinuses immediately flooded... she hated crying. She couldn’t even remember the last time she had cried? She held it all back. She was stronger than this. She was a fighter! That’s why she had survived as long as she had. She knew how to push it all back down and quickly... before it got out of control. She knew one day she would cry and let it all out and when she did unleash it all, that it would be a long time before she’d stop. This was not going to be that day! She was not going to give Steve the satisfaction of her tears or her fear!

The brakes of the car squealed and she could feel the car slowing down as it bumped and crunched along some gravel. It felt as if the car was turning but she couldn’t be sure. Then suddenly the car came to a complete stop. They were there! Wherever there was. Could be they had just stopped for gas or something. She heard the engine shut off and the car door open and shut. She heard his footsteps on the gravel and then another door open... he was fishing around in the back seat for something... she could hear him through the flimsy trunk wall. Her eyes were wide trying to see but it was still no use... it was pitch black. She heard the car door close and the jingle of keys... and the crunch of his shoes on the gravel again. He was getting further away. He was just going to leave her here all night to teach her a lesson! She felt trapped and began to panic. But then she could hear his footsteps again. This time they were getting closer! He was coming back towards the car... he was coming to get her!

She knew he’d beat her tonight for leaving, maybe even kill her finally but she didn’t care. She had nothing left to live for. The physical pain would almost be welcomed anyway... it would make her forget how she’d gotten Landon killed. ‘Well’ if he was going to beat or kill her she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of him thinking she was conscious for any of it. She heard the scrape and scratch of the keys in the lock. She closed her eyes softly pretending to still be unconscious. She could feel the warm summer breeze blow across her and even though her eyes were closed she could still tell that the moon was remarkably bright. She could feel him slide his hands under her and flop her into an upright position against, what she imagined was his shoulder and work awkwardly to scoop up the rest of her. She was being carried now. She allowed herself to stay completely relaxed and floppy as he carried her. She could feel the rhythm of his steps and smell his cologne...though it didn’t smell like his usual...he must have bought something new...? She felt as if he was carrying her over his shoulder and carefully, daringly lifted her lashes just a bit...just enough to see that she was correct...he had slung her over his shoulder and she was facing his back. She continued to allow her weight to be dead and floppy...though it was much harder to do with her eyes open...instinct kept wanting to kick in.

She couldn’t see much except the ground as he carried her but when he stopped and jostled with the keys her eyes caught hold of an old tin watering can with some kind of ivy that had begun to wrap itself around the can. It appeared as if it were sitting on top of a crumbling stonewall... but it was hard to tell exactly, as she couldn’t open her eyes completely. She was envious at the sprawling freedom of the ivy... reaching out to touch and wrap itself around whatever it felt like without abandon. She felt a kinship to the tin watering can and couldn't help but notice that for some reason it reminded her of when she was a little girl...before her parents had died. She didn’t know what the memory was or why this insignificant object elicited such a nostalgic response. Perhaps she thought, 'It is because tonight is the night she was going to die? She was finally going to be at peace reunited with her parents and her brother. One big happy family again.' She softly shut her eyes as he stepped over the threshold and closed the door behind them shutting out the world along with the moonlight....

Stay tuned to read what happens next week.....

© Copyright 2010 Christine Maxwell All rights reserved

The Answer

Loneliness is...
a loud silence that pierces
a heart that breaks with no one to witness
tears that fall upon your pillow and no one ever knows
an infection that eats away at your core
your hollow insides resonating into a silent abyss
affection with no one to wrap your arms around
a friendship with no return
speaking just to break the deafening silence
a disease of the mind felt by many, yet witnessed by none
the devil’s tool to isolate us and make us think we are unique in our circumstance

Jesus is...
The Small still voice that comforts
The Restorer of broken hearts
The Catcher and Saver of all our tears, He is storing up every one
The Healer that restores marrow to our bones
The Filler of our cups
The Object of our affection
The Friend that died for us and asked nothing in return
The One that speaks life
The Re-newer of our minds, available for all, yet accepted by few
The Answer to everything, regardless of our circumstance

© Copyright 2010 Christine Maxwell All rights reserved

My niece Shannon gets married...

Okay so I attended the coolest wedding ever! Really I mean ever! It wasn't your typical alcohol riddled, cheesy DJ... with a dance floor full of people that should NEVER dance in public, kind of wedding. It was so unique and original and it left each guest full of anticipation to try each event! And to top it off everything was practically homemade, refurbished or antique. I felt that I had not only stepped back in time to an old fashion country wedding but had also stepped onto the cover page of a Country Living Magazine. Every detail was finished with the greatest of care! Rather than try to tell in you in words I will show you in pictures.


















It was an outdoor wedding. The decorations for the ceremony location were very simplistic. I liked the fact that there were not a whole lot of decorations up front competing with the wedding party. This table of bud vases and cut flowers were the only vying factor. Very pretty! Loved the simple white linen runner.



















The aisle of pinwheels was such a nice touch. This picture was taken after the chairs were moved up under the tent for lunch so it is not as visually detailed as it was when the chairs there but you can get an idea of the country feel. The pinwheels were all homemade as well.







(picture courtesy of Melissa Brown)






















The wedding party's attire gave a relaxed flow to the whole setting...from the groomsmen's sandal clad feet and white linen shirts unbuttoned and casual...to the bridesmaids' different styles and shades of dresses. They just oozed comfort.



Had I not been so excited to get in line for the bistro style picnic buffet I would have gotten pictures but my gluttonous belly wanted in on the food so I forgot to snap some photos! There were: gourmet breads in tiered baskets, bistro style chicken salad and platters of meats and gourmet cheeses, big glass jars full of gourmet style chips and plates of fresh tomatoes, cucumbers, greens, red onion and pickles...white ceramic dishes held mounds of fluffy bow-tie pasta salad and fresh fruit salad. I piled my plate high...since I couldn't decide on which or what, I took a little of everything. As if that wasn't enough there was a whole table devoted to spreads... from pesto to practically any type of mustard one could ask for...not to mention the old standbys as well.

Everything was labeled with homemade country style placards for a beautiful finishing touch! Also accentuating the spread with a touch of homeyness, were bright and colorful balls of yarn and handmade button bouquets scattered about in bud vases. Aargh...so mad I didn't get pictures of those!























Besides the lemonade there were also bins of ice filled with old fashioned bottled soda and IBC rootbeer! What a refreshing way to display the beverages. So eye pleasing as well!




















Lunch was held under a big white tent with tables and chairs. The handmade decorations again gave a very simplistic feel.

















Even the napkins were handmade. They had the guests save the napkins and plan on using them to make a quilt later on!


After lunch the festivities really took off. The highlights for me were...































...the penny candy styled bar and...















...the dress up photo booth!


























































Other activities included....




































































And of course they had the bride & groom's favorite of all past times VOLLEYBALL...


































The bride and groom even got in on the volleyball festivities...





















We all took some time out to have some dessert and....

















...to watch the bride and groom cut the cake and...
































...then we all waved goodbye to the bride and groom as they drove off into the sunset!

Locked Doors

Waiting at the door again. Sitting in her wheel chair rubbing her deflated rounded belly where her sweet baby once was nestled safely within. There is no key for this door. This door does not lead to a nursery full of healthy fat and crying babies. There is a buzzer for this lock and a gatekeeper behind the desk. She hates the sound of the click and the buzzing. Her husband maneuvers her wheel chair around trying to juggle holding the heavy door open while he wheels her in. They lather up with hand sanitizer as the 1st door closes heavily and latches shut locking behind them. The smell of Purell hand sanitizer is strong and invasive. He maneuvers her through the next closed door. The blipping and beeping of the life support machines are the lullabies for these babies. Oscillating between striking waves of panic and comfort for her. Minute by minute...she holds her breath wishing she could just give him hers. They sit by his isolette talking to him through a plastic wall...singing to him...telling him stories of his older brothers...reading to him from their Bible...making plans with him. They need to leave for a bit...time to run tests. Her husband wheels her out through the first set of doors and then through the second...there is no locking or buzzing required to get out. She knows when she returns she will sit at these doors again...waiting for the gatekeeper to buzz them in.

She sits in her wheel chair holding tight a bottle containing the few drops of milk from her breasts...liquid gold in the NICU...she wants to be able to contribute in some way she feels so helpless as he lays on the other side of the locked doors fighting for his life. Her and her husband once again enter...the smell of Purell...the sound of the door locking behind...the second door opening and releasing the chorus of beeps and blips. Her heart feels as if it stops beating each time, until they round the corner and can see his nurse look up from his isolette...they gauge the expression of the nurse and they can breathe when they see a smile. They know he is doing “okay.”

Several times a day every day for 10 days they make this life or death trek into the unknown behind the locked door of the NICU. By then she is walking and getting around. Her husband has just come from behind the locked doors to give her an update before she goes in. She sees his face...she knows. She ignores him and starts talking about something else.

He interrupts “It’s time” he says...his eyes glistening with tears.

She just looks at him...stares through him trying to deny what she knows.

“It’s time to say goodbye” he says

“NO, NO it’s not time! It’s not. We have plans. We have so much to do still! It’s not time! Please no...tell them no! We were going to have our sock wars...remember? Remember how when the other boys were little and they’d pull off their socks and throw them on the ground and how they’d get stuck in the wheels and jam them and the stroller would lurch forward? We still have to do that! He was going to peel soggy cheerios off of his big fat belly someday and feed them to you! It’s not time they’re wrong! It’s not time!” she cried.

“I’m sorry...” he choked out “but we need to be strong and go be with him until it is time to say good bye” he helps her stand and leads her a few feet towards the locked door. Suddenly her feet won’t budge and her knees buckle. She can not bring herself to move any closer to that locked door.

“We don’t have much time. We need to go in now!” he is firm with her and urges her along. She holds on to his arm, her legs barely carrying her. Her feet are like lead in wet cement...as she inches toward the locked door. They stop and wait for the gatekeeper to buzz them into the only home they will ever know with their child. The door buzzes and they enter in for the last time.


© Copyright 2010 Christine Maxwell All rights reserved