However, there are those pebbles that from out of no where become an irritant in our shoes.  Where did they come from and why did they leave the whole to become separated and not only separated but irritating?   I probably have been such a pebble in some peoples’ shoes off and on in my life.  I accept that about me with my fellow human beings but do I become an irritating pebble in God’s shoes?  I often wonder with all my pleading prayers, my visions, my need to know and my demands of what should be in this world do I become that  irritating pebble?

Another aspect of a pebble’s life is when walking the area near the water, many people pick up pebbles just to throw them into the water to watch the waves that such an action causes never knowing how far or where the waves will travel.  The pebble now becomes a part of the whole in another area and causes its presence to be known in a different way.   For once the pebble is tossed from the shoreline it is no longer about the pebble but the waves it causes.  It is the same with words both written and spoken becoming  like the pebble tossed in making waves never knowing  who or what they touch or how far they will travel.

Am I at times a pebble in God’s shoes with my prayers? Probably.  Are my words like pebbles tossed into a pond never knowing who or what they touch?  Absolutely.    As I look upon the world, the universe, the stars in the sky and the pebbles on the beach, and the many human lives lived before and yet to be I’m overwhelmed with it all.  And yet the reality that I seem to forget is that God sees and believes that all creation is a part of a bigger dream.  Where am I in that dream – am I like an irritating pebble or a pebble that is a part of a whole that helps form the bigger dream of God?



Copyright 2010 Susan Handle Terbay

Set a guard over my mouth, O Lord; keep watch over the door of my lips. (Psalm 141:3)

For most of my adult life the comment “you get what you deserve” remained buried into the depth of my soul until a few years back, when during a talk with my spiritual director, they came vomiting out. At that time I finally allowed myself to sob over the pain, along with the acceptance I had taken upon myself and the reality of what such a phrase placed upon my life.

The words haunted me in ways I never realized. They were not given as praise and reward for a job or act well done, no; they were spoken in condemnation of me when a degrading act happened to me. A priest I thought was my friend molested me when I was 13. While that was bad enough it was the words that sealed the moment forever inside my soul where it remained festering for many years.

During the time when my mother was dying of cancer this priest visited the family and always sought me out to give me comfort and to allow me to feel safe around him. I was twelve years old when my mother died and I thought he cared about me. A year later when my father married to give me a mother figure in my life, it was this mother figure who caused these words to penetrate my being.

The act itself horrified and frightened me but it was those words that I deserved it that filled my young girl’s heart with shame and silence. For back then these ‘men of the cloth’ had such a position of power, a position of control that for me to speak out would only have condemned me more. I would have the label of sinner and seductress even though I was but a skinny young girl whose mother had died and left me feeling so alone and abandoned. I was young and innocent and that was shattered not just with the act of the priest but the words of a woman who should have supported me but only confirmed the total aloneness I felt at that moment. There was no place for me to go with my pain except within my soul and build a wall around it, protecting the lost little girl inside.

The incident when I was a young girl was healable at that moment in time. If I had been able to talk to someone, to be comforted in my feelings of betrayal, I could have felt loved instead of shamed. But it became a quiet haunting for the rest of my life because of the accusation made by my stepmother. It wasn’t until later that another ‘man of the cloth’ told me I did not deserve what happened and allowed the wounds that I kept within my heart to rip open and the tears and the sobs came forth. The little girl entrapped within my own self-made barricade began to heal and the woman who was comforting her was me!

I learned to banish those words that I deserved to be molested and replace them with God’s words of love. In all of Jesus’ teachings and the readings in the New Testament there are stories and letters that speak of a God who believes we deserve to be loved and that we are so loved that Jesus was sent to us to help bring us back home to heaven to be with God forever. Now when I hear ‘you get what you deserve’ I think of God telling me I deserve to love and be loved.
As a mother I know I have said things that have hurt one or more of my children and wished as soon as the words came out of my mouth I could pull them back in. I worry that something I said to my children left them wounded. If I have done so, I hope some day they find it in their hearts to forgive me and even more – tell me so that I can ask for their forgiveness. I know I have done the same with friends –a quick response leading to a quick regret. As a writer I select my words with care; I must take as much care to the spoken word as well.

Words are powerful. They have the ability to heal or destroy, to give comfort or evoke pain; to speak of love or even spit vile evil. We may never know until judgment day the effects of our words upon others until we stand before our Creator. God may ask not only of our treatment to others but also our words to others reminding us that whatever we did – or said – to the least of God’s children – we did and said to God.



Copyright 2010 Susan Handle Terbay

The frame of this particular mirror is formed by two outstretched Hands, and the wall it hangs upon is eternity. As I gaze upon the now older woman in the mirror I notice surrounding me in shadows are friends who have come in and out of my life along with spirits of ancestors who helped form me and filling in any empty crevice are angels with one in particular guardian angel standing next to me. So in some ways I do see what is behind the glass and also my heart’s desire.

Before I leave I turn to glance one more time and smile, comforted in the fact that I know I’m never alone and never have been.



Copyright 2010 Susan Handle Terbay

For me it began when I was a young woman and pregnant for the first time and all the  doomsday naysayers had to tell me everything I needed to know about pregnancy and birthing.  You know the people I’m talking about; those people with the horror stories about pregnancy and birthing that even frightens Stephen King.  Then after relaying all such information they tell you to ‘relax’ – ‘don’t worry’, this is ‘natural or normal.’  Really?  Normal for whom?

To some people, I guess having six children in ten years sort of pushed the un-normal button a bit.  They may even ask:  ‘what were you thinking?’  Well, I really wasn’t thinking I was too busy giving birth.  However, like so many young mothers, the moment the little child is placed in our arms our lives were forever changed and ‘normal’ became just a word in the dictionary.

Let’s face it – when you have children – infancy onto adulthood things happen that the ‘outside’ world would label ‘abnormal’ but for a mom –  it is just ‘un-normal.’   For instance who in the outside world dances around a potty when a toddler pees in it for the first time?   What corporation CEO calls management to invite them to come to such an event?  Maybe not a CEO but a mom does – calling family and friends to not only announce the moment but to come and witness it.  What is normal about fixing hot dogs and bologna sandwiches, transporting six nine year olds and providing the snack after a baseball game and consider this a sit down dinner?  Well to a mother this is the reality of children in sports.   Not a big league deal but a big deal to the family.   Also what is normal about standing for hours in the check-out line because you finally found the one item your five year old begged Santa to bring her for Christmas?  Others would call you an idiot but moms just smile in admiration!  No, this isn’t abnormal this is un-normal – something almost all moms live and understand.

The un-normal life of a mother includes various abilities such as psychic knowledge of what a child is thinking even when the child thinks they have hidden their view by silence.  The un-normal life is being on-call 24/7 with no vacation.  And most certainly the un-normal life is creating a treat for a class from various ingredients in the cupboard at 8am in the morning that a mom just found out about at 7:30am that morning when the child woke up to tell her that he needed to bring something to class that day!

I thought after my children grew up and left home that my life as I had dreamed would be back to normal.   Of course my definition of ‘normal’ is my regular routine of living my life, with my own independence; no problems pertaining to my children or grandchildren, no situations that detract me from my work; no pet animal concerns, no car repairs over $100, no financial stresses and no health issues.  Is this asking too much???? Probably, since I realize that what I just wrote never ever existed in my life these many years.

As I continue to look back over my life with my kids I realize that an un-normal mother’s life includes the ability to love during stressful times and the ability to let go when it is time to do so.  But even beyond this achievement is the most profound ability of all – the ability for a mother to live the rest of her life with half a heart.  For you see whenever a child becomes an adult and leaves the home they take with them a piece of their mother’s heart.  This is the reality of a mom’s un-normal life and my guess is that when asked if this is normal – most mothers would reply –of course it is –  this is ‘our normal, un-normal life!’

Copyright 2010 Susan Handle Terbay

While sitting and taking in the moments Olivia ( my cat) decided she needed to rid her body of a hairball.  Really?  Does she not see the magnificent beauty outside the windowsill she was sitting upon?  Then a family of Blue-Jays were either returning from a late night party or wanting to start a party so their squawking silenced the singing and chirping of their fellow-birds.  Really – did the sun coming up disturb all of you?  Then as I was writing in my journal a squirrel was ‘speaking’ – no yelling, screaming at something while he sat upon my porch.  Really?  Did he miss the sunrise and its spectacular beauty?

Finally I said enough.  Olivia was asked to go hack up her hairball in another room.  I went outside with my cup of coffee and searched for what was ticking off the squirrel – found nothing but I suspect a cat had been hiding in my bushes and my presence scared it away.  Finally I just looked up in the tree and said ‘enough.’

It is now quiet again. I’m on my second cup of coffee and all is well in my world.  However, as in life, there will be more hairball hacking, Blue-Jay squawking and squirrel ranting and not just in the form of God’s small creatures but in the form of humans.  Just like with the critters this morning, I’ll get tired of it and say ‘enough’ do whatever I need to do to quiet my world again.  But until then, what a gorgeous morning!!

Enjoy this day!!!

Copyright 2010 Susan Handle Terbay

I’m sharing part this mother’s letter:

Yesterday just after my son left the building and tent where he works to go to the mess tent, a mortar round hit his building. Everyone there was injured. We do not know how bad or if there were any deaths yet. My son is fine, or that is what he is telling us for now.  How lucky he was to have gone to eat. Last we heard late yesterday was, he was going back in to salvage what he can of his communication equipment when ever they will let him.

It is hard to rejoice in the news that my son is ok when all I can think about is the other mothers that are not as fortunate as I tonight. I know my son too, and I know he is devastated by the loss of his fellow soldiers.

When will this ever end … Dear Friend, I feel as though I am in the middle of a nightmare that I can’t awaken from…

Her grandchild wrote a prayer in chalk, which she sent at the bottom of her email. I cannot give it the presentation it deserves for while the words are sacred – the handwriting of a small child makes it powerful.

Oh Jesus, please keep in touch with daddy also protect him ahmen.

It is time that women/mothers/grandmothers join together in one voice and say enough; enough of hatred, revenge, intolerance and desecration of life.  As I reread the child’s prayer to Jesus to – ‘please keep in touch’ – do we do that?  Do we keep in touch with Jesus and His teachings?  Or are they just words in a sacred book or prayers we hear at Mass?   This child understands the need to have goodness stay in touch – do we?

The child did not pray for revenge, the child did not pray for the killing of the ‘enemy’.  The child prayed for protection of her father.  Imagine if all the children in the world asked that of their God – to protect their parents – would there be wars?  Would there be attacks by anyone against anyone?  I If God is like a mother, hearing such a beautiful unselfish request – it would be answered and if answered who and what would start the war?

I know how it feels to be in a middle of a nightmare that one feels they cannot awaken from.  Too many mothers are living in such nightmares and too many children are praying because one of their parents are in a war.  It is time that we stand up and say enough to the nightmares of mothers and to the pleading prayers of children around our world.  It begins with each one of us – a prayer to God, a letter to our representative and a stand that war is not the answer to the world’s problems – it is the spark the stirs the flames.



Copyright 2010 Susan Handle Terbay

First of all I’m proud to be a woman – a human woman.  I’m also proud to be a mother – a human mother.  The women I most admire from past history, from my own past and presently in my life do not resemble any kind of animal or sport.   They are profound women who have made a difference because of their wisdom, insights and tenacity; their compassion, understanding and love.

Maybe it sounds ‘cute’ to some to label women with adjectives of animals or sports because there seems to be a lack of the guts in their vocabulary to use the titles of wise, loving, compassionate.  After all in this world of power, greed and violence such words speak to some as weak and ineffective in leading or being in power.  Unfortunately such thinking speaks of ignorance.

The most powerful women I have ever encountered, the most determined women I have met and the most influential women who have touched my life did not resemble animals or had the label of a sport in front of their name or title.  These women used their wisdom, insights, tenacity, their compassion, understanding and love to make a difference in our world.   We all know such women.  Some we read about in history books, others we encounter in our day to day and for many more of us we see the future of such women coming to light in our daughters and granddaughters.

Today let us give honor to those women and mother figures who have touched our lives and have made us a better person.   For it is through their examples of humanity we have become better humans and/or strive  to be better humans.   Allow the animals to be who they are and the sports to be what it is.  Women are humans and it is through all of our humanity that we can make a difference in the lives of all humanity.

God so loved the world that He chose a loving, wonderful, wise and compassionate woman to be the most influential person in His son’s life – someone to be called ‘Mother’ – ‘Woman’ – no other title is necessary for Mary and I believe no other title is needed for women except what God deems important.



Copyright 2010 Susan Handle Terbay

Right now in my life I want to tell the thieves, hackers and not nice people – go for it!  Then maybe my creditors will quit calling me and call them instead.   Also, right now as a mom – which is my primary identity next to being a woman – I’d say, go for it and let me know how it works out for ya when it comes to my children and my status with them.  Maybe they could take over that ministry, that calling and see if they end up being a better parent – a better mom.

I’ve reached a point in my life that I’m getting sick and tired (a mother’s mantra) of being forewarned about my credit score, my identity, my total existence in this world and who I am as a person based on bankers and computer geeks!  Really?  And where in all of this doomsday warnings and analysis of me is God’s expectations of me?  What does God believe is my credit score based on the commandment to love or my identity as a woman of faith and a mother of six children I was blest with in my life?

I don’t have the ‘perfect’ credit score that keeps popping up on my computer to tell me what I should have and not have and if that makes for a bad identity to thieves, hackers and not nice people – well then I’m saving myself some money.  I know I’m not the perfect woman of faith or mom but that doesn’t seem to matter to God – what matters to God is that I try and lord knows my life is filled with trying – sometimes successful, sometimes failure.  So bankers and geeks, do what you need to do and I’ll just continue to do what I do – thus not losing my identity but confirming it with the One that matters.



Copyright 2010 Susan Handle Terbay

“It is now some years later and most remember where they were that day and what they were doing. For me that day was more than a horrific event. That day changed my life forever, the aftermath and events to come weigh heavily on my soul, and will until judgment day. I lost a piece of myself that day and later a piece of my soul.” (From

Over 30 years ago I gave birth to a son.   His arrival came in the middle of the night with great anticipation.   The delivery team of doctor and nurses were wagering on whether I was having a boy or a girl.  For me it didn’t matter – I wanted this life out of my body but more I wanted this life to be healthy.  After my final push a healthy baby was placed in my arms and tears of joy flowed as I looked into the face of a beautiful gift of life.

My son became was one of those who I refer to as ‘squishy babies’ – he was just so cuddly and snuggly.  To say he was cute isn’t just a mother’s statement – he was and it was this ‘cuteness’ that saved him many times from trouble or got him into it.  I found this fifth child of mine to be one of my greatest challenges as a mother accompanied with many tears of frustration.   He became a young man who would try anything with little fear and could respond to an emergency with level headedness and courage.  As he grew into his teens the challenges were on every level.  When he was around 20 he went to a recruiter and came home to tell me he joined the army.  Later he told me that he made this decision because as he watched his friends go down a path of drugs and lives of no prospects and he wanted something different for himself and felt the military was where he could achieve his goals.  I was facing mixed feelings of dread of having a child in the military and yet being proud of a son who saw two paths and chose one that could save him and my tears of pride outweighed my tears of fear.

We are not a military family and I have protested wars for most of my life but at that time when he joined, we were not in any particular war and my hopes was that maybe he could find himself, find a career  – find a way to use his gifts and talents.  He thrived in his life as a soldier – and when he came home from boot-camp walking down the airport ramp my heart burst with pride and tears of seeing my son now a young man, content within his choice.  When I was in labor, my prayers were for a healthy baby and now my son seemed healthy and happy with his decision and I was okay with that.

Then 9/11 happened and life forever changed for military families.  While the President at that time told the American people to ‘go back to normal life’ – ‘to go shopping’ – that he would take care of things, for those in the military life would never be normal again and spending time shopping wasn’t even an option.   I found my days in constant state of tears knowing deep down that at some point my son was going to be sent somewhere into a war because of the attack.  There were acquaintances who had no sons or daughters in the military tell me that I worry too much – that things will be fine.  When I spoke out against the possibility of going to war in Iraq, and my tears of what our country was about to do, I was told by others that I was unpatriotic, that I was clueless about the horror of terrorism.  No I was not clueless I knew what the cost of war was going to be first hand.

The day my son called to say good-bye as he was going to Iraq my heart broke and the tears flowed.  My body was gripped in fear and I began to hold my breath as I did when he was a toddler running through the house – fearing he would fall or hit his head – or as he grew older and went out the door – holding my breath until he would return safely to our home.   Now he was going to war –into a horror that I could not stop and could only hold my breath and pray that he would return – safe and healthy.

That day my son changed.  He had three deployments – two in Iraq and the last in Afghanistan. It was in Afghanistan that my son experienced the horror of war at its peak.  He almost died twice and he also experienced more the deep destruction of his soul as he killed others, as he watched children become pawns in a war of adults, and as he picked up body parts of his buddies and held a soldier as life seeped and exhaled out of his body.  Along with all of this, his wife completely fell apart and he asked the family to have her come live near us until he came home.  We had no idea of the extent of her breakdown and within a couple of months of moving near us, she took the children and ran away to meet with a man she met on-line.  The youngest in our family were lost to us for 10 weeks and my son in warzone was thrown into the pit of despair, unable to come home to find his family.  A young man, who took the oath to defend his country, was helpless in defending his family.  My son was hurting and I lay helpless every night in tears unable to take away his pain as I did when he was little.   Eventually we did find the children, and we were able to bring them back and keep them safe with us.

My son finished his time in Afghanistan and requested and received an honorable discharge.  He came home to take care of his children.   I was relieved that my son was home from the war and he could no longer be sent back into the throws of hell.  Little did I realize that while my son left the war behind him, the war has not left him.  When he first got home, he was his old self – crazy, funny and wanting so much to find normalcy in his life and being with his family again.   His marriage had ended but he had his children and that seemed to be all that he needed.  He got a good job and decided to go back to school to get a degree – looking into possibly EMT work or working at a VA center.   However after awhile the dark remnants of the war started to immerge and he became argumentative, explosive, angry, and even hateful.

He no longer laughed or joked.  Family gatherings became events for arguing and hateful rhetoric. He had rage against anyone he felt were whiners or complainers; commenting at times with phrases of ‘they think they have it tough, try looking into the fact of someone you killed.’ Or, ‘they think they have it tough, try holding a friend’s body together.’   He was angry at the world and rightly so but his anger became misdirected.  He and I went to a social worker at the VA because the family kept telling my son that he has issues and he could not see what we were talking about.  It was a good session as I talked about how it was like walking on egg shells around my son – never know what would trigger his outbursts.  I cried as I stated how I missed ‘my son.’  Tears filled my son’s eyes when he listened.

I had hoped that was the beginning of healing for him but in actuality he has never sought help again because he deems himself ‘okay.’ How could any human being be okay after what he has experienced?   The radio and talk show racist commentators who make their money spewing hate now feed into my son’s anger and it helps him justify such feelings and hate for everyone.

My son was raised Catholic, steeped in tradition of family life. Our family is very diverse and because my children’s father is full-blooded Lebanese, they themselves along with their father have had to deal with racism, profiling, and vile comments because they are of Mid-eastern culture.  My son ignores what such hate does to his family and pursues his own racist, hateful comments of others.  It rips at my heart because he is becoming the total antithesis of his upbringing.  He was taught tolerance and acceptance now he has no compassion, does not care for anyone and cares little about others’ pain.  He looks for ways to start arguments.

I find my tears flowing more and more as I watch my son ‘die’ while alive.  I cannot imagine the horror my son, my child has experienced in war; no mother ever wants her child to experience desecration of life or decisions that war forces humans to make.  So many mothers in our world scream into their pillows at night for the shear pain of losing a child to war.  Their tears could fill rivers to over-flowing and the emptiness remains a lifetime.  Because of the group Military Families Speak Out (MFSO), my family and I have found out we are not alone in any of this. There are also mothers like myself who watch their child’s spirits slowly die while trying to live.    The child we gave life to now is a child in which life doesn’t exist.

When my son was in Iraq the first time, I actually had people tell me that this wasn’t as bad as wars in the past because there are not that many soldiers dying!!  I didn’t know how to respond to such ignorance – I just sat and stared at them wondering how that would console a mother whose child just died. I have written and spoke out against congressmen who make callous remarks about soldiers’ lives being expendable and have met with representatives to talk about ending the wars.

War is wrong and I have yet to be convinced otherwise.  I will continue to write and speak out for I want my grandchildren to read what I have written and spoken, so that maybe their generation will see war for what it is and search other ways to solve our world’s problems.  I wish for them that war becomes just a word and peace a way of life.  Mothers’ tears should only be shed for the pure joy of life not because of its destruction.

I know this is hard to say or think but Sittie will pass away and you most likely will be the last person she has contact with… you are gonna pay a price and a piece of your soul will be the tender. (From my son in Iraq speaking about the possibility of his grandmother’s death)

Copyright 2010 Susan Handle Terbay

We arrived at the park, two hours before nightfall so we could get a good parking spot at a shopping center and a good place to sit at the park itself.  We drove in several cars.  I came with my three youngest grandchildren and was joined in the walking from the cars to the park by my two oldest grandchildren. The walk from the cars to the park was a few blocks.  There was so much activity going on with games, cook-outs and a various bands playing at different areas as we passed.  People of all ages, sizes, sex and cultural background were coming together to celebrate a special day for Americans.  It was like one giant block party!

When my oldest grandson caught up to us and was walking next to me, I remarked about why we had to walk such a length when we could sit on the curb where we parked and still see the fireworks in the sky and then be ready to leave immediately when it was over.  He looked at me and said, “Well, Naanaa, you might be able to see the fireworks but will you feel the joy?”   (Augh!  a teaching moment was happening and once again I wasn’t the teacher – but the student!)  I looked over at him and he just smiled.  So of course the whole walk to the park I started to whine that I’m not feeling the joy!!  I’m hot.  I’m thirsty. and I’m tired of walking!   He just looked at me and smiled.

When we found our spot, we settled down.  The band on stage was playing every patriotic songs written and then of course Rock & Roll songs of the 60’s – my music!

While the air was humid and only a slight breeze once in awhile drifted by, the atmosphere was electric and people who didn’t know each other greeted each other with smiles and children laughed and played and strangers joined in the lyrics of the songs.  I looked over at my grandson sitting next to me and said, “I’m still not feeling the joy quite yet.”  He just smiled.

The two hours went by quickly and the night sky was finally darkened.  The children and adults all settled down and the first of many explosive sparkles began.  I have always loved fireworks and this show proved again why I love them.  There was music and bright flashes – and well, just a deep feeling bubbling up inside me that just made me feel so good.

And then it was over but the excitement was still in the air as everyone gathered up their chairs and blankets, coolers and each other for the trech by to the parking lot and their cars.  We all parted our separate ways but stayed in contact thanks to the technology of cell phones!   It was a long wait in the parking lot as we inched along to get to the main street but eventually we made it out and home.   As I stated we are came in separate cars.  My two oldest grandchildren were in one car and their sister was in our car.  They arrived at their home before we did.   When I let my granddaughter out of the car, I called out to my oldest grandson and said,  “I found my joy!”  His mother looked confused but he understood and smiled.!

I learned a lesson, of course, from my grandson last night.  How often do we find ourselves deciding about moments in life about whether we want to take that walk or just sit and watch from a distance?  My grandson pointed out to me that yes, I could ‘see’ the fireworks from a distance but would I ‘feel’ the joy of them?  No, I would not have felt the joy – not like I truly felt it while sitting with all my grandchildren and enjoying one of my most favorite moments with them.

Is this not the same when it comes to loving someone – taking that chance – walking that path?  Is this not the same as taking on a new adventure, new job, new location, or new dream?  Is this not the same as opening a door of the unknown?  We can go through life, watching it from a distance and yes, perhaps seeing the beauty or…. we can go through life and be in it – getting tired at times, getting thirsty and wishing the path was not so long.. but what would we have missed if we just watched from a distance?

We only live this life once and like my wise old grandson of thirteen reminded me last evening, ‘Naanaa, you can see from a distance but can you feel the joy?”  No, Liam, my dear grandson, I cannot feel the joy without experiencing the whole journey!!



Copyright 2010 Susan Handle Terbay

My daughter picked me up after breakfast. It was a gorgeous morning and after days of rain we were delighted to see the clear sky. I live but two minutes away from the highway. Within one minute of reaching the highway came the question that all parents who travel with children hear incessantly – “Are we there yet?” My daughter calmly reminded the children how she explained that it would take awhile before we got to the zoo and that she would announce when we were close. Well that was a sufficient response for about five minutes. “Are we there yet?” came from the back seat. My response, “Uh, no.” A couple minutes later; “Are we there yet?” came from the back seat again. My daughter’s response, “No, I will let you know.” About the fifth time within a span of 15 minutes; “Are we there yet?” coming from the back seat, my daughter stated in a more firm voice: “Do not ask again – I will tell you when we are there!” I smiled and looked over at my daughter and said, ‘Well, now you know why your father and I traveled with all of you beginning at midnight so that you would all be asleep and we didn’t have to endure the questions of ‘are we there yet?’ for at least the first part of the trip and by the time you did ask we had reached the destination.”

Eventually the children just settled into the trip. We turned on a favorite CD with songs they like to sing. They looked out the windows and saw farm animals and an occasional deer in the woods. They snacked and drank and just chattered with each other which of course led into disagreements of ‘na huh to ah huh! being repeated over and over. I myself just smiled – so many past memories of travels with my six children flooded my mind. As a young mother I wanted to forget such moments but as an older, wiser grandmother, I now cherish them.

We did finally reach our destination of the zoo and had a wonderful time. Of course many of the animals were laying in the shade of trees while humans sweated in the hot sun searching and taking pictures of them. Which once again proves that intelligent creatures do not necessarily walk on two legs. We left at the closing of the zoo and by that time I myself wanted to fight the three year old to sit in the stroller but suffice to say, we made it back to the car and oddly enough the questions of ‘are we there yet’ ceased on the ride home. Mainly because the children zonked out on us!

The next day while sitting alone on my swing, I thought how often we ask annoying questions of God. I have been on this journey of life over 60 years now; have had lots of traveling, rest areas, places to replenish, food for my journey. Sometimes there have been long stretches of vast nothings in my life; other times delightful views and wondrous life experiences. I have had quiet times, singing times, sleeping times, wide awake chatter times. There have been times of uncertainty and fear of what is happening around me and the road stretched before me I now have times of reminiscing with memories of paths traveled – some demanding, others delightful. I still also have time to dream of roads yet traveled and paths yet ventured.

It seems my life has been one long road trip and each day I awake to wonder what is my destination for the day. Sometimes I wonder what is my final destination and more do I dare ask God, “Am I there yet?” I’m sure I’ll know when God says, ‘we have arrived.’ but until then, I’m content to buckle-up and continue the travels, taking along my backpack of memories and maps of future dreams.



Copyright 2010 Susan Handle Terbay

As I listened to these men before the Senate hearings I thought of their character –  even more the value of the words stated by them.  I started to think of words that impact me regarding another person.  What language defines them?  When anyone says ‘you’ve got my word on it’ – I value that tremendously. It speaks of the person’s character.  It means what they state speaks of their integrity, their being and even more, their very soul.  I believe our character should reveal truth.

Awhile back Ohio got hit by the remnants of a hurricane named Ike, which hit the state of Texas with vengeance. Never have I experienced such high winds for such a sustained amount of hours. We are used to tornadoes that come with their destruction and leave just as quickly but not the sustained winds of a category 1 hurricane that Ike had become for us.  

As I sat hunkered down in my home I thought of how lies are much like the winds of a tornado or hurricane  -  constantly destroying and becoming unrelenting on who or what it destroys. Lies scream like destructive winds. 

After the winds subsided all the neighbors came out and we started the clean up. While we got a lot done, so much is was still left in destruction- certainly not on the scale that Texas experienced but all the same very destructive. Lies are the same way –it is hard to clean up totally after them.

“You have my word on it”  and the telling of the truth – needs to once again be held as sacred and an honorable characteristic of a person – and it has not been so for a long time. It is time I believe that we hold not only others but ourselves as accountable for actions and especially words – if it screams a lie – challenge it – if it whispers truth – then embrace it.

As mothers we have the heavy burden of helping to form our children’s lives in ways we hope will build character.   Words are powerful and meaningful.  One word can destroy but also one word can heal.  Jesus, according to St. John in his gospel is given the title Word:  “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.” (John 1:1-2) We were given God’s Word in the life of Jesus.

Perhaps these powerful men lost their character when money, power and greed became their god and the value of their words became less. For if this is the case then their character took hit.   As mothers and for me a grandmother of the future generation, may we be able to teach our children and grandchildren the power of the Word, the power of their words and truth and in so doing respect of their own character.

Below is a poem I wrote awhile back when I was dealing with a lot of lies in my life.  When life bombards us with lies, we need to seek the whispers of truth.

Whispers

Truth whispers

Lies scream

Sounds are deafening right now

Even the leaves falling vibrate the ground

Silence is a sweet reminder

of what truth can reveal

God is truth –

God is a whisper

I need whispers for my heart

aches from all the screaming.

Copyright 2010 Susan Handle Terbay

My girlfriend told me of her mother’s last days.  Granted, her mother lived to be almost 97 years old but letting go still hurts the heart.  This woman was also a mom, a woman who nurtured the lives given to her and sustained their lives with her own.  Saying good-bye and letting go is never easy especially when a part of your heart goes away with them.

My friend had stated before her mother’s death that she hoped her mom knew what a great mom she truly was to her and her three other siblings.  I told her to tell her mother this.  I never had a chance to tell my mother my thoughts, my love, anything that I wanted her to know because she died when I was 12 and was never given that chance.  It is one of those moments that lives within my heart and never goes away. My friend did tell her mom all she wanted her to know because her mother deserved to know this and my friend needed this for her own life.

As I write this I realize there are many women reading this who have scars both physically and emotionally because of a mother who did not live her life with kindness, compassion and understanding.  It is difficult to refer to such persons as moms.  For in reality the fact that one can conceive and give birth to a child does not make them a mother, or more importantly – a mom.

Some women lose their mothers through death.  Others lose their mothers while they still live and that is a much greater loss.  However, I believe many of us are given special moms in our lives to help us on our journeys.  I know I have had many older, wise women who have become my mom at various times in my life   I now find myself being a mom/mentor to younger women as they look to me for advice.  It is like the circle of life in my own life.   Hopefully I can be half as wise as the women who were there for me.

Many women in our world live very difficult and sad lives as we witness on our news every evening. As women, mothers and grandmothers, we need to speak up against the rape and slavery of women and children; we need to reach out in our own church and community to those who are less fortunate than we; we need to vote and have leaders who speak of our beliefs in the equality of women throughout our society and the world and finally, maybe visit a nursing home and be the mother to an elderly woman who needs the love of a mother herself.

In any case, I’m asking you to do this one gesture before it is too late.  Please sometime after you read this column, tell that woman who gave you life whether through birthing you or being there for you as a mom how much you love her and what it means to you that she is your mom.  It will not only bring her joy, but it will confirm you.

Copyright 2010 Susan Handle Terbay

With Empty Arms
By Susan Handle Terbay

Four days separate their journeys;

two mothers walking/stumbling down a path

into a darkened abyss with empty arms.

They have no food for this journey.

No provisions to get them through the rough terrain.

They are thrust upon this path with empty arms.

Their tears blur their vision

their screams block the sounds from the outside world.

Oblivious to life,

they walk in death –

their hearts heavy,

their breathing shallow,

the pain of loss inconsolable

their arms empty.

One mother, only four days ahead of the other on this lonely path

a path that is new to both of them

but all too familiar to so many other mothers around our world.

Will their paths cross?

It is unknown.

There is only one reality that brings them together:

Death of their child.

For death snatched their children away from them

and like so many other mothers around our world

they will forever roam this earth

with empty arms.



Copyright 2010 Susan Handle Terbay

Mary is the sadness of the mothers who have lost their children and no one will tell them where they are.  Mary is the tenderness that looks with anguish for a solution.  (Oscar Romero 12/24/78)

A few years back Mel Gibson produced the movie; The Passion of the Christ.  While the storyline is the last twelve hours of Christ’s life, what made the movie powerful for me, as a mother, was the depiction of Mary.  The script and the actor herself gave beauty, depth of love, strength of character and faith of a woman in an otherwise extremely brutal movie that portrayed the horror of humanity’s atrocities towards each other and in particular – Jesus.

I was so aware, in my own heart, of Mary’s feelings throughout the movie. Her pain and anguish permeated the screen, as she watched in horror the Son she gave life being brutally tortured before her eyes and then standing helplessly as she watched Him die a horrible death.   The flashbacks throughout the movie of Jesus as a child, and as a young man sharing moments with His mother spoke volumes of the love between a mother and a son; moments many mothers can relate in their own motherhood.

At one point, when Jesus was falling from the weight of the cross, the movie showed a flashback of a young Mary running to Jesus when, as a toddler, He began to fall.  As any young mother knows when witnessing such a moment you run to your child, pick them up, hold them, kiss their bruises and reassure them that mommy is there for them.  But as Mary now sees her adult Son fall, she is shoved away and not able to hold Him or kiss His many wounds or reassure Him of her presence and love.  I suspect almost every mom in the theatre wept along with me at that moment because we understood Mary’s anguish and helplessness.  For a mother, it doesn’t matter the age of the child when they are falling or getting hurt.  A mom wants to be there to hold her child and reassure her child of her presence and her love and that it is going to be ‘okay.’

Watching Mary so helpless to stop what was happening to Jesus while He stood before the crowd of accusers and later as He was nailed to the cross, symbolizes so many mothers around our world who witness helplessly as their children are destroyed by the violence of war, the indignity of poverty, and the unrelenting devastation of disease.  Her constant presence throughout Jesus’ life and now death spoke of the powerful essence of motherhood but more it speaks of the intensity of a mother’s love – Mary’s love.  As Mary stared at the evil incarnate character in the movie she showed the potency and depth of her faith in God and in her Son.  Evil could not penetrate her and actually feared her presence.  For too long Mary was never shown with such fortitude.  The Church had placed her so high on a pedestal that most women and/or mothers could never really relate to her in any part of our lives.  This particular movie only confirmed my belief and my feelings about a woman whose name is Mary and who became the mother of the Son of God.  A woman who said yes to God when so many of us would have certainly hesitated and more than likely said no.   Mary, like so many other women who become mothers, didn’t know the outcome of saying ‘yes’ to motherhood but she most certainly didn’t run scared when faced with the real depth of that ‘yes.’

Jesus came into our world with a message – love; to love God with all our hearts and to love one another as ourselves.  The movie did not depict such love.  Its purpose was to show the last twelve hours of Jesus’ life and the brutal ending of this Man.  Yet for me, despite the violence featured throughout the movie the message of love did come through.  The love both Son and mother had for each other and their message of love beyond themselves.  Even now over 2,000 years later with all the violence and hatred that finds its way into our society and lives, we can still hold onto Jesus’ message of love.  There is no guarantee when we follow Him and His message of love that it will be an easy journey to follow.  It certainly was not an easy journey for Mary to follow Jesus to Calvary but love is more powerful than fear.  There is one thing certain – we won’t be alone when we choose Jesus’ message because a very special woman, whose faith and belief in her Son sustained her when every aspect of her life seemed futile and helpless.  As we move forward in our lives, let us invite Mary to join us on our sacred journey of motherhood and help us live the message of love her Son gave us and not to be afraid to do so.

Have a Blessed Easter Celebration!

Copyright 2010 Susan Handle Terbay

“… you are here with me always; everything I have is yours. But now we must celebrate and rejoice, because your brother was dead and has come to life again; he was lost and has been found.”  Luke 15: 31.

For as long as I can remember I have loved the story of the Prodigal Son.  Depending on the year or the time in my life I could place myself in the position of either one of the sons.  I could lament along with the son who remained with the Father and ask ‘how come?’  when good things seem to happen to bad people.   Or I could be one of the ‘bad people’ begging forgiveness when realizing all my actions had dishonored God along with myself and just wanting to be forgiven and allowed to come home again.

I never saw myself in the role of the father in the story until I became a mother.  The story was meant to reflect God’s love for all His Children.  I began understanding God’s love more when I became a mother than I ever experienced before I had children.  I understand God’s frustration, God’s anger and hurt as He watches His children do things that will violate their gift of life and I also understand God’s dreams that He holds for all His children.   I have written in the past about such matters.  Especially when it comes to war and how people actually believe God wants to pit His children against each other.  What mother would be so easily persuaded to have one of her children kill another one of her children?  She would want peace, understanding and justice and certainly not violence that would destroy the lives she brought to this world.  Moms who truly love their children want their children to love each other.  Isn’t that what God wants of all His children?

I have a son who has pulled away from the family.  The reasons and rationale I cannot understand and it hurts.   I have six children and I love all of them in ways they probably don’t understand.    But the reality is that I love them all.  This past Christmas this son stopped by on Christmas Eve and my heart was over-flowed with joy.  It had been a long time since I had seen or heard from him. My heart was full of joy before he walked in the door but seeing him, having him home stirred my joy to beyond the boundaries of my heart.  Pictures were taken with all of us together.  Then he left and I have yet to see or hear from him again.

My excitement to see my son I’m sure was noticed by the other children; the children who have always been with me, remaining at my side through visits and phone calls.  They know of my thoughts when I mention his name.  They know my door is always open for him to return.  Did they wonder why I didn’t yell at my son for being gone?  Did they think I love him more than them because I was more excited to see him walk in the door than when I saw them walk through the door?   Do they wonder why I still look for him to walk through the door when I have them walk through the door all the time?

This morning as I thought about it I realize that when I have all my children with me I’m complete.  Is that what the father of the prodigal son was trying to convey to the son who always was with him – that his heart is full with his love of the son he has with him every day but there is always an empty space that is left with a yearning for the son who isn’t around.  It becomes filled and complete when both sons come together to be with their father as one.

God didn’t need to create any of us to be complete.  God created all of us because He wanted us and in so doing I think He opened himself up to feel less complete.  Perhaps this is not a theological concept accepted by the Church or any religious leader but I’m not a theologian or a religious leader.  I’m a mother who has a little insight into what it must feel like for God to watch His children walk away and wish so hard that they would return back to Him; a God who wants only goodness and love to prevail and yet still love all His children no matter what they choose to do.  The door remains open – always.  Dear God the Father, I understand.

Copyright 2010  Susan Handle Terbay

Somebody said being a mother is what you do in your spare time; somebody doesn’t know that when you are a mother, you are a mother ALL the time.

I have always found the above title somewhat fascinating; ‘working mom.’  In my thinking, if you are a mother, you are working.  When my children were little I was a stay-at-home-mom.  Now, this too is another somewhat interesting title given to mothers.   I remember when I would go to events or get-togethers outside the home, conversations inevitably would include what people did for a living.  When asked what I did for a living  I would reply that I’m a mother of six children. Sometimes the response would be, “Oh, you don’t have a job?”  My usual reply would be, “Oh, I have a job, it just doesn’t begin at 9am and end a 5pm.”

At that time when my children were very young there was a great movement for women to work outside the home.  Many careers were opening up for women when I was in my late 20’s early 30’s.  I graduated from high school in the mid 60’s and the choices for girls were limited for the most part to nursing, teaching, secretarial work and of course marriage/motherhood.  Only a very few went on to fight for a position outside those choices.  So when opportunities and higher education began to open up for women, why wouldn’t a woman want to take advantage of it?  So I admire the women who fought for all the opportunities that the younger women now a-days take for granted.  However, to I also believe that to diminish motherhood as though it speaks of laziness with no real challenges in life belittles the ministry that is so vital to our society.

Motherhood is a balance of many roles.   If a mother had to fill out a job application she could easily say yes to her qualification for any of the following: a manager, a medic, a counselor, a teacher, a lawyer, a judge, a mechanic, a confessor, an economist and construction engineer.   The list is endless. A mother is on-call 24 hours a day, 7 days a week.  What other profession has such hours with no breaks?  The breaks that do happen come and go very quickly.  A good example would be vacation time for the family.  While I’m sure as moms we enjoy the time away from the routine of every day events, if we really look at the time away from the routine – how far away do we really get from it?  Most moms are still on-call 24 hours a day, 7 days a week even on vacation.

Now that I’m an ‘older’ mom, I thought after my children left home that the motherhood demands of 24/7 would diminish or at least change.  The only change is that I’m older as are my children!  Now I find myself with another job descript – that of a firefighter, putting out fires that my adult children either start or find themselves involved.   I may not be their #1 on the speed dial of their phones but I am at least #2 because once the first call is made without satisfaction for them – I seem to be their next choice.

I often tell my friends and co-workers I don’t want to be mom any more.  I just want to live out my final days in peace and contentment, sheltered from all the demands that such a title brings with it.  But the reality is that I do relish the phone calls and the ‘hey mom – can you help – or hey mom, what do you think …’

While later into my motherhood I did begin to work outside my home when the last child started school, I always viewed motherhood as my primary ‘job.’  My ‘mom’ resume is filled with accomplishments and failures.  In the mainstream of finances my bank account is empty.  My real treasures of sticky jelly kisses and dandelion bouquets, homemade cards and thank you hugs are of greater value and kept in a far safer place than any bank on Wall Street could provide- near my heart – secure with love both given and received.  Motherhood is my identity – my work, my career, my ministry – my greatest love.

Copyright 2010 Susan Handle Terbay

As I age I have developed a great respect for my heart for the constant beating it has done these many years.  The wonderment of such an organ that pumps life throughout my body fascinates me.   This includes also all the emotional scars it has endured over the years; as a young woman when my heart was broken by unrequited love and later when those I loved departed and my heart ached for the absence of them in my life.  And especially as a mother when so often my heart ‘stopped’ at the sound of my child’s cries of pain, or when they left the house alone or drove the car for the first time, or when they left permanently to live their own lives and of course when my son went off to war.

While my own mother died of cancer at a young age, it is heart disease that is prominent within my family on both sides.  So I know the odds are that I’m at risk for heart disease.  This is Women’s Heart Health Month and as women and mothers it is vitally important to be aware of our own health and to make sure our hearts and our bodies are cared for by us as we care for the hearts and bodies of those we love.

So often as young mothers we take our health for granted or think we are not endanger of any disease until we are much older.  That the only risks we face in our every day is living with toddlers who throw things or teens who say things that might hurt us.  The reality is that all women are at risk and we need to know a few of them.  Do we know the warning signs of a heart attack?

• Chest discomfort, pain, squeezing, burning or mild to severe pressure in the center of your chest that lasts more than a few minutes or comes and goes
• Upper body discomfort in one or both arms, back, neck, jaw or stomach
• Shortness of breath with or without chest discomfort
• Dizziness, lightheadedness or fainting, nausea and vomiting, cold sweats
• Feelings of anxiety, fatigue or weakness – unexplained or on exertion

Do we know how to help our hearts to help prevent the risks of heart disease?

1.      Commit to a heart healthy diet

2.      At least 30 minutes a day of moderate physical activity

3.      Watch your weight

4.      Quit smoking or don’t start

5.      Know your numbers – blood pressure, blood sugar, cholesterol and triglyceride levels

6.      Manage stress through meditation, yoga or deep breathing

(From The National Coalition for Women with Heart Disease)

As women and mothers our every days are filled to the brim with ‘doing’ and where in all of this ‘doing’ is there a moment to love ourselves healthy?  For instance, how do we alleviate our stress, frustrations and anger that accompanies motherhood?  While we enjoy all the conveniences of modern life to make our lives easier, it could also come with a price.  For instance a couple conveniences come to mind -  store bought bread and mops that almost clean the floor themselves – saving us valuable time to keep ‘doing’ whatever it is we fill our lives to the brim with ‘doing.’   Granted, making homemade bread is hard work, time consuming and scrubbing floors on our hands and knees may be exhausting and time consuming as well but I’ve made homemade bread and I have scrubbed floors on my hands and knees and nothing is so freeing as punching dough or scrubbing something clean to get all the anger, frustration and stress out of my body and mind.   Why go and pay money at a gym, which also takes time and can be exhausting to get the similar results but  not have anything warm and wonderful to eat or something clean to show for the effort?

We cannot become complacent with our bodies and our health.  We are our children’s first and most profound teachers.  What are we teaching our children if we fail to care for our own health?  A mother’s heart is about love but not just love of others but love of self. Our bodies are the temples of our souls and we should treat our bodies with the respect and honor for the gift it encases – us!   What a wonderful lesson to teach our own children about their own bodies.  Loving ourselves healthy is also about loving our children and each other healthy as well.

Copyright 2010 Susan Handle Terbay

Man sees your actions, but God your motives.

As I look out my windows this morning, there is a breathtaking beauty happening – figuratively and literally.  The temperature outside is zero and anyone who has experienced taking deep breaths in such frigid degrees knows that it can literally take your breath away.  The figurative taking of the breath stems from the beauty of the visual wonderland of the snow on the trees and bushes now frozen giving the trees a lattice work of lace and the bushes a marshmallow covering.

While looking out upon such a view all of a sudden I realized I forgot to change something in the chapel bulletin for which I write and organize at the university.  Why I thought of that at such a moment I have no clue. I often believe there are angels out there whose ‘job’ is to ‘alert’ us to our humanity!! I’m sure everyone has had a moment in which all of sudden you remember something that should have been done and forgot to do it which ultimately causes a mistake! Then of course comes the berating and the ‘oh, my, what am I to do’  thoughts and thinking the world is coming to an end because I made a mistake.  Of course, unless I have the finger on the button to destroy the world, I don’t think forgetting to change something in a local bulletin is going to bring about Armageddon.

It may cause embarrassment and I can rectify the over-sight in the next bulletin.  But it was the self -berating that followed that awakened me to my arrogance. Oh the inquisition I placed upon myself was unending.  I even started to think backwards of the other errors I have made, and the mistakes and not so good choices’ in my 60+ years. How arrogant of me to think that I’m incapable of making a mistake and how pathetic to think that God judges me solely on my errors.   I do strive to make sure things are correct.  I’m not lazy, I’m not indifferent and it is important to me that my motherhood and my work reflects my striving to do the right thing but I’m not God – I’m human and humans make mistakes.  I simply forgot to change an announcement in a bulletin.

I think that our society feeds into our fears of imperfection especially as parents and even as older people when we ‘forget’ or ‘fail’ or ‘make a mistake’ that we are less than when the reality is that we are who we are – humans not deity.   Society demands perfection and we in turn demand perfection and so when it doesn’t happen we view the actions and begin the blame game and ignore the motive of the action and the understanding that the action may need.  We become deity – the judge, jury and executioner of all humanity – not based on God’s commandments of love but on our commandments of justification for ourselves.

Some mistakes are not easily fixed but if we own our mistakes, poor choices or judgments in error and then learn from them we become better people and hopefully better teachers to the young.   As mothers we can take what we have learned from our own mistakes to help our children.  This doesn’t mean that our children will listen or accept what we have to share nor will it stop them from making mistakes, poor choices or errors in judgment.  We know there are no guarantees in motherhood but I believe we fail as moms when we ignore the lessons we have ourselves learned and not pass on to the younger generation that results of what we have learned.

I believe one of the greatest lessons a mother can teach her child is that mistakes happen and everyone makes them.  Forgiveness can be given but what makes a person a better person is to be responsible and accountable for their action.  When a mistake or a bad choice happens – own up to it and learn from it, and also accept the consequences that may follow.

So as I look once again out the windows, there still remains the beauty of the snow and the bitterness of the air.  The bitterness of the air actually does take our breath away but at the same time the beauty of the snow causes us to take a moment to breathe beauty in.  Our mistakes can do the same, causing us for a moment to hold our breaths in our own self review of humanness and then allowing us to take a breath and see our humanness as God sees us and once again to learn to love ourselves healthy; allowing that to be the motive of any of our actions



Copyright 2010  Susan Handle Terbay

Life is precious. Not because it is unchangeable, like a diamond, but because it is vulnerable, like a little bird. To love life means to love its vulnerability. Henri Nouwen

With each New Year, I start it off with my birthday; a new year – a new day to celebrate my life.  Granted there have been times when life’s challenges made it difficult to find a reason to celebrate another year but ultimately it is a precious gift and forever I am blessed with both friends and family who have joined me on this journey of mine I call life.

At my age I also tend to look back and see where I have been, what I have done and the results of my decisions.  There are two phrases that seem to sneak into my reflections – ‘what if’ and ‘if only.’   What if I chose a different career – always wanted to be in the Peace Corp?  What if I married a different man, what if I chose not to have children, and what if I never married at all?  The ‘what if’s’ of my life can become consuming.  Then of course there is the ‘if only’ reflections that can consume me as well.  ‘If only’ I had been a better mom, or if only I had been a better friend, daughter, spouse – oh, the list can become endless.  Having older children remind me of some of my failings as their mother when they were younger – especially when they were teens, doesn’t help either but then I patiently wait for their moments with their children reminding them when they are older of their failings.  It is only a matter of time.

I was recently reminded by a friend I had not seen for a few years that she felt abandoned by me because she had gone through another divorce and I wasn’t there for her.  She was correct – I was not and as I look back the reality is that it wasn’t because I didn’t care it was because I could not be there for her for in my own life I was struggling. Plus I didn’t know she was struggling.  Now as a younger woman I would have been so apologetic and so sorry and begging forgiveness but as an older woman I find myself not apologizing but pleased that she has ventured back into my life again.

As mothers and women we tend to strive to be everything to everyone.  Then when we ‘fail’ to be so we condemn ourselves for being less instead of accepting ourselves for who we are and where we were within ourselves at that time. In all of this we tend to forget the one person who needs us first is ourselves.  Sounds selfish – true if we only think of ourselves to please ourselves only but we all know the rule when flying if the cabin pressure drops and the air masks are to be put on; we put it on ourselves first so we can help our children or others put on theirs.   We need to love ourselves healthy.  To me that means to take out two phrases in our lives – the ‘what ifs’ and the ‘if onlys’ that keep us from being healthy.  The word ‘if’ is so tiny and yet it holds within it massive power over our lives.  We can beat ourselves up as we look back over a choice we made and ponder – ‘what if’ or we can berate ourselves that ‘if only’ I was better the world would be so different.

By allowing the power of a small word take over our journey we leave out a much more powerful presence – love.  Sure maybe we could be better moms, better spouses, better friends – better person.  What we need to do then is to ask why we want to be better moms, spouses, etc.  Is it so they can write at the time of our death an epitaph or grave marker  that states ‘she was a perfect person’ or do we seek to be better for the glory of God who created us and loves us.  Jesus brought with Him two commandments to convey and requested us to obey: To love God with all our hearts, minds and souls and … to love each other as we love ourselves. Let us decide today that we let go of the ‘what ifs’ and the ‘if onlys’ of our lives and love ourselves so we can love the family, friends and people who God so lovingly places in our lives.

Copyright 2010  Susan Handle Terbay