It's a Wonderful Life

A fund manager associated with Bernie Madoff was found dead yesterday. He committed suicide by slashing his wrists at his desk. The billions of dollars in investments he was overseeing disappeared, like a shadow when the clouds come out.

Mr. Madoff's Ponzi scheme ravenously devoured $50 Billion, before this gentleman's eyes. In an unspeakable, crushing blow to those thousands of people who no longer have retirement money, and to the legitimate charities which are now bust, the truth is out. The money isn't, and it never was. These people were robbed, their money paid as "interest" to others who were also robbed, willingly handing over fortunes to Madoff's investment firm, for the promise of fat dividends.

I ache for the dead man and his friends and family, and for all of the victims of Madoff's elaborate lies. Nothing anyone can say or do will bring his man back to life. And what comfort will his loved ones find right now? The massive financial fraud itself is the pinnacle of discomfort. And death has now followed in its wake.

Suicide is an action of sheer, unmitigated hopelessness.

Like George Bailey, ready to throw himself into the ice-cold, churning waters of Bedford Falls --those souls without hope can see nothing but the oppressive, diabolical, unrelenting message:

"You're worth more dead than you are alive!"

For those familiar with the story, on Christmas Eve, George lost the Building and Loan's entire $8,000 bank deposit ($68,205.79 in 2007 dollars), unwittingly dropped into Mr. Potter's lap by that loveable ditz, Uncle Billy.

And the bank examiner was waiting impatiently in the office to review the accounts, so he could get home to his family. That large missing sum meant scandal, and prison for George, the big-hearted, community-minded family man. Frustrated, angry, consumed with hopelessness, suicide appeared to be his only answer.

But the fervent prayers friends and family reached heaven, and God sent Clarence Oddbody, Angel Second Class, to show George what a wonderful life he really did have, and how vital was his thread in the fabric of humanity.

What about the fund manager? Did this man truly have no hope? What about a prayer? Did he even know how to pray? Did he have praying friends?

I have a thought for my fellow humans who have placed their hope in money, and may be seeing that hope disappoint:

Reorient your compass to TRUE NORTH (Truth!)-- in the direction of the Star of Bethlehem, which points the way to Christ.

Then, get prayer. 1). If you don't know how to pray, figure out who among your friends and famiy DOES know how to pray, and ask them to pray for you, until they can teach you how to do it. 2). Learn to pray. 3). Teach your kids how to pray. Honest to God, it's a life skill!

It's Christmas Day. Today we remember God's intimate love in the form of a tiny, fresh, vulnerable newborn with the destiny of Savior of Humankind, King of All Nations. He was born into humble circumstances to teach us how to live. And he shows us that life is the gift.

Money comes and goes. It can often be replaced, with effort. But life is irreplaceable. You are important to someone. Believe it-- even if you haven't been told in awhile. "For God loved the world so much, that He gave us His only begotten Son, so that whoever believes in him will not die, but have eternal life."

Satan's Meeting (Read even if you're busy)

Quick note: I didn't write this & wish I knew the author's name, to give credit where it's due. But it's a compelling story which ought to be told. Sometimes parables are more true than we'd imagine.
Enjoy!

Satan called a worldwide convention of demons.
In his opening address he said,
"We can't keep Christians from going to church."
"We can't keep them from reading their Bibles and knowing the truth."
"We can't even keep them from forming an intimate relationship with their saviour."
"Once they gain that connection with Jesus, our power over them is broken."
"So let them go to their churches; let them have their covered dish dinners, BUT steal their time, so they don't have time to develop a relationship with Jesus Christ.."
"This is what I want you to do," said the devil:
"Distract them from gaining hold of their Saviour and maintaining that vital connection throughout their day!"
"How shall we do this?" his demons shouted.
"Keep them busy in the non-essentials of life and invent innumerable schemes to occupy their minds," he answered.
"Tempt them to spend, spend, spend, and borrow, borrow, borrow."
"Persuade the wives to go to work for long hours and the husbands to work 6-7 days each week, 10-12 hours a day, so they can afford their empty lifestyles."
"Keep them from spending time with their children."
"As their families fragment, soon, their homes will offer no escape from the pressures of work!"
"Over-stimulate their minds so that they cannot hear that still, small voice."
"Entice them to play the radio or cassette player whenever they drive." To keep the TV, VCR, CDs and their PCs going constantly in their home and see to it that every store and restaurant in the world plays non-biblical music constantly."
"This will jam their minds and break that union with Christ."
"Fill the coffee tables with magazines and newspapers."
"Pound their minds with the news 24 hours a day."
"Invade their driving moments with billboards."
"Flood their mailboxes with junk mail, mail order catalogs, sweepstakes, and every kind of newsletter and promotional offering free products, services and false hopes.."
"Keep skinny, beautiful models on the magazines and TV so their husbands will believe that outward beauty is what's important, and they'll become dissatisfied with their wives. "
"Keep the wives too tired to love their husbands at night."
"Give them headaches too! "
"If they don't give their husbands the love they need, they will begin to look elsewhere."
"That will fragment their families quickly!"
"Give them Santa Claus to distract them from teaching their children the real meaning of Christmas."
"Give them an Easter bunny so they won't talk about his resurrection and power over sin and death."
"Even in their recreation, let them be excessive."
"Have them return from their recreation exhausted."
"Keep them too busy to go out in nature and reflect on God's creation. Send them to amusement parks, sporting events, plays, concerts, and movies instead."
"Keep them busy, busy, busy!"
"And when they meet for spiritual fellowship, involve them in gossip and small talk so that they leave with troubled consciences. "
"Crowd their lives with so many good causes they have no time to seek power from Jesus."
"Soon they will be working in their own strength, sacrificing their health and family for the good of the cause."
"It will work!"
"It will work!"
It was quite a plan!
The demons went eagerly to their assignments causing Christians everywhere to get busier and more rushed, going here and there.
Having little time for their God or their families.
Having no time to tell others about the power of Jesus to change lives.
I guess the question is, has the devil been successful in his schemes?
You be the judge!!!!!
Does "BUSY" mean: B-eing U-nder S-atan's Y-oke?

Apologizing for WHAT?

I recently met a fascinating woman.

Dancing on the edge of "retirement age," Elizabeth* was tall, sinewy, alert to irony, bright-eyed. An enjoyable conversationalist, she drew me into the story of her life. (* real name has been changed for this post).

I could imagine her 40 years ago~ young, artistic, beautiful and beguiling. She, an independent Swedish blonde traveling on business -- not looking for a man -- met an American working in England.

They fell for each other, married, and later moved to the states. Home for him, and a world away for her.

Many years traveling with her husband and living overseas offered her a smorgasbord of experiences most of us merely read about in Conde' Nast. The stories of her artistic pursuits conjure images of a free spirited soul living out her unique calling with panache'.

She even studied for six years under a Sen-Sei the art of Ikebana, Japanese Floral Arranging, and became a master in her own right. And given a Japanese Flower name to recognize her master status.

The drama of her life's story is one that really could read like a novel. I'd LOVE to read a novel like it...

But here is the sad part.

Within minutes of meeting me, she apologized. And not for committing any offense.

We met at an after-hours networking event for "female executives." (I'm hardly an executive! But hey, if I can get out and have a Martini with some interesting women once in awhile, I sieze the moment.)

She apologized for not "having a job," or the business card to go with it.

Truly, I could see her discomfort in trying to explain to me the meaning and value of her life, detached from some title and income stream. Those external signs of independence and worth, which define so many of us, could not define this glorious woman.

Thinking about her makes me want to have a different kind of "card."

Life is my business. It's yours, and everyone else's too. Maybe we should all carry a"Life Card" which we give out: It can tell people what is magnanimous, unique, and worth celebrating about us.

I hope we can come to that place where we never apologize for a life beautifully lived. Our worth does not come from our jobs, but from the God-given nature of our unfolding life-stories, which each have the power to inspire someone else. May the stories be told, heard, cherished and encouraged.

You are beautiful. Your life is the gift. Whether you have a job or not.

Il Divo Sings Amazing Grace

Stop what you're doing right now and watch this. Four beautiful young men (Sigh! Younger than me!!), presenting an absolutely beautiful rendition of the best song ever written. Sweeter than honey.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mMVxzEueJ6A

The Destiny Project

I just finished an eight week "class," unlike any I've ever taken. It's in the model of "group coaching," so the facilitator is more like a guide than an instructor. However, let me say for myself, there was a LOT of learning going on, girlfriend!

Might this surprise you? I've spent the majority of my adult life being really annoyed with myself.

Let's not get into that right now. Remember, I'm normal, like you dear. (You might also relate with the idea of being annoyed with yourself...) Another post for another day-- or a series of posts for posterity.

Finally, just a couple of years ago, I learned to NOT say to myself, in my exasperation, "WHAT is WRONG wih you?!!"

Figuring, rightly, that there is NO good answer to that question-- as one might forsake a bad habit, I've been teaching myself not to let it leave my lips. But that doesn't mean the question didn't still live on in the inner chamber of my mind.

Surprise of all surprises: God's good timing, and intricate ways of working in the lives of his creatures, brought me into contact with Shannon Bruce, a certified Christian Life Coach with Inner Wisdom Coaching Services. And she proposed this "class," with enthusiasm and spirit.

I said no. I said no again. And finally I said, "I'm ready."

Now I delightfully recommend it to other women who are ready to "cast out into the deep" with God, but maybe don't have any clue how to get there without sinking. Shannon is kind-of like the Westport Fishing Boat captain. She can help you get to where the big catch is, and safely, because Jesus is right smack dab in the middle of her boat.

And you won't be all alone, because a few other special sisters will join you on the journey, and new friendships will be born.

That's it. I can't say any more becuase I want you to think about it and ask me questions, and I want you to look into it for yourself. There. Think. Pray. Act. And Trust-- God loves you and knows you, and knows your destiny. It is for your joy.

"Absolutely Julia" is a practical result of some of what God is doing in my life as a direct result of seeking Him in a deeper way.

The Destiny Project

A Transformational Journey for Women

"God has a specific destiny in mind for your life; one He has woven into the fabric of your deepest desires, passions and joys. He has prepared a path for you to follow, and given you a unique quest to fulfill. And He is waiting to reveal it
to you, in all of its wonder and beauty."

For more information about the Destiny Project please visit http://www.yourgreaterpurpose.com/

My favorite new website

I recently found this great website, "Catholics Come Home" -- And I'm giving it my "absolutely" thumbs up.

If the Internet is good for anything at all, it's the "information" super-highway. That doesn't mean you can't find an awful lot of crap and garbage. Ick! Parental controls, anyone?

But I LOVE this site. The access to information is astounding!! Even for folks who aren't Catholic, it's a veritable springboard to dive into other healthy web content all over cyberspacce.

You simply must check it out. No bad can come of it. www.catholicscomehome.org.

Son's laughter a beautiful sound years after tumor

“I dropped the toilet seat on my knee.”

“What did you say?”

“Well, I was letting the toilet seat down,” Patrick, my 21 year old son, says, giggling and rubbing his plaid flannel pajama-clad leg, “and I dropped it on my knee!”

Flashback to 1990. Patrick is 4 years old, tow-headed, precocious and articulate. We celebrate Thanksgiving in Northgate, surrounded by moving crates.

A week later we arrive in Dash Point, dragging furniture, boxes of toys and laundry baskets full of clothes.

Unpacking his plastic Smithsonian dinosaurs, he names each one before placing them on his bedroom windowsill.

“Pachycephylosaurus, Struthiomimus, Parasaurolophus, Tyrannosaurus Rex.” Patrick's eyes are crossed again. His head aches. He's tired from the move.

Three days after we get the last box into the house, we enjoy our first big Sunday dinner. Increasingly lethargic, Patrick chooses to stay on the couch rather than return to the dining room for carrot cake. Heading for bed, he walks across the living room toward the stairs, missing his mark by three feet.

Something is wrong.

We know Patrick is having some difficulties. Months before, his pediatrician referred us to an optometrist, who asserted “nothing's wrong.” The ear, nose and throat doctor claimed Patrick was fine. Next stop is the neurologist, but with four kids under the age of six, the move consumes all our time and energy, and we don't even have a doctor in Tacoma yet.

I call the after-hours nurse and attempt to bring her up to speed.

“Well, you could come the E.R., and we could start at the beginning, not knowing your son, and try to figure all this out,” she counsels. “Or you could take him to his pediatrician in the morning.”

Have you ever gone to bed one night with a vague idea that in the morning your life would never be the same again?

The following day a CT scan reveals a medulloblastoma, a malignant tumor the size of a racquetball, crowding his posterior lobe, working its way into his brain stem. We farm out the kids, make shifts at the hospital, and decide how to live in the present.

When a local church mothers' group learns of our plight, we welcome a barrage of strangers bearing casseroles. We become known in the neighborhood as “the family that moved in whom no one has ever seen.” We learn medical terms, too numerous to count. We become friends with the nurses during the days before Patrick’s surgery, while he's on steroids to bring down the swelling.

On Dec. 7, Pearl Harbor Day, we place Patrick's life into the hands of God and the pediatric neurosurgeons. Afterward, we watch him struggle in the intensive care unit, tied down and on life support. People we've never met ask if they can pray with and for us. And we begin to meet other families touched by childhood cancer.

In the years since, Patrick has endured radiation, chemotherapy, physical therapy, occupational therapy, learning therapy and nearly every sort of medical test. We credit years of intensive growth hormone therapy for his permanent height of 5'2”. He'll need thyroid medication for the rest of his life.

I think the poking, prodding and analyzing has toughened his formerly blithe spirit. Smeagol/Gollum in The Lord of the Rings occasionally takes over as Patrick's alter-ego. And yes, he is cured.

Camp Goodtimes, the American Cancer Society's summer camp for childhood cancer survivors, is Patrick's favorite place of all time. His former caseworker at Fife High School – he finally graduated last year, to thunderous applause -- helped Patrick get a great job, so he can buy his own video games and Weird Al music.

He's proud of his 102-and climbing pin average at the Wednesday Bowling League with Metro Parks' specialized recreation program.

As Thanksgiving approaches, I'm reminded that a steady stream of wonderful, caring people shows up in our lives on a regular basis. Had it not been for the brain tumor, we'd have never met them.

So having a 21-year-old who can somehow manage to drop a toilet seat on his knee and laugh about it is remarkable. I regard it as one of life's miracles. But I still can't imagine how he did it.

Julia Miller of Edgewood is one of six reader columnists for the Perspectives page. (This post is a reprinted column, originally published November 18, 2007, in The Tacoma News Tribune)