Don't have a heart attacked, I'm posting. It's not that there isn't anything going on, I think that it's because I just feel overwhelmed at what life is throwing at me these days. Some of it I can write about, some of it, I can't.

I'm in the throes of a cold/allergies and all that goes with it. The last two days I've worked half days and done only what I absolutely had to do, so there's a lot at the job that didn't get done. It will await me as I go back on Monday. When you don't feel well physically, you don't feel well mentally either, so it'll probably be a struggle.

The weather now is absolutely exceptional. Warm days, cool nights. Last Saturday I nearly wrecked myself doing yard work, but I so much enjoyed getting out.

A familiar refrain from a more contemporary song implanted itself in my brain today, and is helping me keep my sanity when things are not sane. It is this:

When I think I'm goin' under,

Part the waters, Lord.

When I feel the waves around me,

Calm the sea.

When I cry for help O hear me Lord

And hold out your hand,

Touch my life,

Still the raging storm in me.

by Annie Hawks & Robert Lowery

There is nothing we can hold on to in this life except our belief that God is. The Great I Am is. When others fail, when things fall apart, when people let us down, we come back to the foundation of our faith, that He is. No matter what you are going through, I hope your beliefs are anchored in the One who never changes, and who is always faithful to do what He says.

Here's proof

This lovely picture (don't I look excited!) is me holding the first fish I caught in many, many years when we were on vacation in Michigan this summer. It was slimy and sort of blech, with tiny teeth you had to avoid when you held it up by the mouth. I threw him back-I'm not a fish MURDERER, just a fish catcher.

Harry

Rev. Harry V. Moratto went to heaven a few days ago, and today is his memorial service. I wanted to write a little bit about this man and the complicated relationship he and I shared, especially the last 2 or 3 years.

But first, a word about Harry's wife, Marjorie. She left us a little more than 2 years ago, and the role she lived woven throughout almost 20 years of friendship was one of mentor, advisor, friend, coach, cheerleader, encourager, teacher-she was all these and more. She was truly one of the wisest people I've ever known. But one of her other roles, unseen, came to light after her death.

Although Harry gave his life in service-he was a pastor and his last place of service was chaplain at a local youth facility for 24 years- he was loudly heard in issues of church management. He was bold, confrontive, and freely gave his opinion on any matter to anyone who would listen. Many times, he did not agree with things said and done, and would let people know how he felt. In doing so, Harry often upset people. He was not the most tactful person.

While Marjorie was living, she was the soothing oil that balanced Harry's sharp-edged personality. He often would temper his comments if she were present, and she, the ever gracious wife would always understand him with grace. I looked at Harry as I would a father figure in my life, and I felt that he loved me as a daughter-while Marjorie was here to smooth ruffled feathers and add perspective to his blustery personality.

But when God called her home and it was just him, there was no soothing oil to heal the rough edges. Within a few weeks of her passing, he and I worked together on a project at church and became at cross-purposes, as they say. He was characteristically rough and straight-forward in his assessment of the situation. My feelings were hurt and I withdrew. Without her here to facilitate communication, Harry and I became estranged. We went to the same church, sat in the same sanctuary, met in the hallways with stiff hellos, and ignored each other. After many weeks, I confronted him one day after church and asked him to forgive me for whatever I did to make him upset. He didn't want to talk about it, and didn't.

From that point on, I let him go, I let everything go, I gave up. There was nothing more I could do to heal the gulf. And, I prayed about it-I got no further word from God about what else I could do to make things right. It was up to him to do so or not.

I decided that no matter what happened, our relationship would be healed. If he came forward to discuss things with me, we'd reconcile. If he went to heaven, we would reconcile there. No matter what, we would be okay.

I can play at his funeral today, knowing that things are okay between us. I have a great deal of respect for him and the work he did-but a few battle scars, too. I would imagine many people would describe knowing him in those words. But, all is well now.