A former co-worker once asked me if I believed in miracles. It was during the Easter season and we were in a department store filled with pastel eggs, colorful baskets, and lovely spring fashions. I told her that I did believe in miracles; her question took me back to a time when God's power transformed my family from chaos to peace.

My childhood was in constant turmoil. All holidays and most weekends were filled with fear and anxiety because my father was a raging alcoholic. When dad was intoxicated he called Mom names that I had never heard before. I would ask my mother what those words meant and she would sadly shake her head, telling me that I should never repeat those words to anyone. On most weekends dad would carouse with his drinking buddies, then stagger through the door barely making it to his favorite chair beside the stove where he would drink whiskey straight out of the bottle and hurl insults at my mother while she hid in the next room. My older sisters stood guard to be sure that he did not burn the house down while nodding off to sleep with a lit cigarette in his hand. Sometimes he stuffed the stove so full of wood that we felt sure our house would catch fire. Because of this we often slept in our clothes, including our shoes and socks, so that we could get out of the house in a hurry if we had to.

Back then 911 did not exist, so my older sisters would run over to a neighbor's house and call our aunt and uncle when dad became extra loud. No matter what time of day or night, our aunt and uncle would immediately pick us up. Mom would pack paper bags with a clean change of clothing and toothbrushes and then we would all sneak out the back door and walk down the road to wait for their pretty blue car.

My aunt and uncle were angels, whisking us away to grandmother's house where it was safe. She always had our beds ready and a hot meal waiting for us. I always longed to stay at my grandmother's house because it was so serene. Sometimes after a drunken binge dad would appear on the porch with a bag of candy or a jar of honey as a peace offering. Without fail, my grandmother welcomed him warmly and insisted that he sit down for coffee and home-baked cookies or cake. She would sit with him and chat as though nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. I realize now that she did this to soothe my dad and keep the peace because she understood the intense shame that he felt. Once I overheard her telling my mother that if dad could stay away from whiskey, he would be the nicest human being who ever lived. But all I wanted was for him to go away and leave us in peace.

Almost every Friday after dad received his paycheck he would come home in a drunken stupor. Friday was our day to go to the grocery store, but often we had to wait until Monday when he was sober. Sometimes he would announce he would quit drinking, but he was never able to do so. Until the Easter Season of 1963--when he was diagnosed with chronic leukemia. Dad had to be hospitalized and the doctor sternly cautioned that he would have to stop drinking for the cancer treatments to be effective. With willpower dad shook the doctor's hand on Easter Sunday and promised that he would never touch another drop of alcohol.

I was a precocious nine-year old at the time and I had watched my dad's unstable journey with alcohol for my entire life. Because of this, I was amazed when I saw my father suddenly transformed into a totally different man. For the first time, our home was filled with peace. Holidays and weekends were filled with joy as we spent time together. Sobriety gave dad a new interest in our living conditions and he began making repairs to the house. He also began attending church, reading the Bible daily, and attempting to make amends to those he had hurt. In his own way, dad followed a spiritual recovery program, turning his problems over to God and associating with new, sober friends. Also, instead of going to bars and getting into fights, he began taking his family out to eat, playing golf, and going to the zoo. Once I overheard him telling a co-worker that his family now came first and he would no longer be going out for drinks. I felt like I was in a heavenly place where monsters would no longer enter. No more sleeping in my clothes or worrying that dad might hurt mom or burn down the house. There was also milk to drink and plenty of food to eat because alcohol was no longer the head of our home.

By the time dad died when I was 13, I loved him with my whole heart and I thought he was the greatest guy on earth. I felt I had been given a tremendous blessing in knowing my real father—a highly intelligent, generous, wise, fun, and compassionate man who always looked on the bright side.

Unfortunately, despite becoming a new person, dad couldn't restore his marriage. Although Mom stayed with him, there was an unresponsive stillness in her eyes that I later identified as spiritual death. Their marriage had ended long before she could feel the complete joy of his sobriety and she kept her distance until the day he died. But at his funeral she sobbed uncontrollably. I was stunned because I could not remember ever seeing her cry. She always seemed so strong when dad was on a drinking binge, making sure that we had our Christmas presents, our Easter outfits that she designed for us, our rides to grandmother's house. Mom always took us to church and taught us to pray. For the first time at the funeral, mom was able to find forgiveness for dad.

Dad could just as easily have used the illness as an excuse to drink even more. But somehow the diagnosis and the doctor's stern warning on Easter morning was a last intervention to give my dad courage to change. His transformation profoundly affected my life because it enabled me to get know my real father. I do not believe that God made my father sick to stop his addiction, but I do believe that God wants His children to be whole, and dad was certainly at peace when God called him home.

Easter and the resurrection of Jesus are a call for us to change, perhaps change as radically as my dad. All of us truly share in the risen life when our lives and our behavior undergo constant development. Although it has been 40 years since his death, I dream of dad almost every night. In the years immediately following his burial, he often appeared in my dreams to discuss the importance of staying on the right path and to give assurance that he was watching over me. These days he still visits, sometimes driving me around town in my dreams! Although I do not always remember exactly what we talk about, I usually awaken with a smile, knowing that dad is still a "driving force" in my life and that he is still cheering me on from the other side.

" A candle loses nothing by

lighting another candle."

Erin Majors

My weight loss surgery is now finally in the hands of the insurance. I got my insurance back the beginning of February and was able to reschedule all the appointments I had to miss in January. So keep on praying that the insurance will approve it soon. I am now undergoing cervical epidurals for the pinched nerve and the pain it is causing in my neck left arm and hand. I have to have a new MRI done and a new EMG.

Nothing much new with Mike. He has not lost anymore weight but is maintaining his weight loss and not gaining either. He keeps active hanging out with his buddies at KRUGS AUTO SALES. He still has not heard anything from his mother or anyone in his family on his mothers side since before Christmas. That means his birthday came and went and not a word from his mother and that is sad.

Hollie is no longer working at Arby's. Her and Mike are discussing getting a paper route and splitting the money since I am not able to really help anymore due to my health issues. She has finally decided to enroll in Fairmont and will start school again on April 9th. If she really works hard she could still graduate before Timmy and Donald.

Timmy is still living at his dads. We had the court hearing on March 1st but the magistrate is rendering her decision in writing and who knows when we will recieve it. So keep this a matter of prayer that the magistrate will let this 16 year old return home to where he wants to live. He has gotten accepted into Green County Career for next year and since we live in Montgomery if he comes back here to live they will let him transfer. He has decided to try to be a pediatrician or a vetrinarian. I am so proud of him and want him to reach his goals.

Jeffrey is still living with his grandfather. I really dont much about wether he is doing well in school or not. He looks as if he is gaining some more weight. Last weekend we checked his sugar and it was high it was 256. They let him eat anything and everything at that home but that is because he controlls all the adults in that home and that is sad. He still comes every saturday for his visits. I have contacted legal aid to try and get custody of him back.

Michael is doing well. He has had some trouble though with his step brother recently at his dads house so it has been decided that he will not be going for visits til Robin decides it is not best for Justin to be in that home. I am so glad that me and Don can be friends and make the decisions that we need to make to keep him safe. He had a orchestra concert this past Thursday and it was really good. I am impressed with how much he has learned. He is going to be a real good violin player. He is interested in a little girl named Kayla.

Well that is it for the update. If you really want to stay up to date with me and my family then visit my webpage at http://www. myspace.com/mikesdarla

There once was an oyster
Whose story I tell,
Who found that some sand
Had got into his shell.

It was only a grain,
but it gave him great pain.
For oysters have feelings
Although they're so plain.

Now, did he berate
the harsh workings of fate
That had brought him
To such a deplorable state?

Did he curse at the government,
Cry for election,
And claim that the sea should
Have given him protection?

'No,' he said to himself
As he lay on a shell,
Since I cannot remove it,
I shall try to improve it.

Now the years have rolled around,
As the years always do,
And he came to his ultimate
Destiny ­ stew.

And the small grain of sand
That had bothered him so
Was a beautiful pearl
All richly aglow.

Now the tale has a moral,
for isn't it grand
What an oyster can do
With a morsel of sand?

What couldn't we do
If we'd only begin
With some of the things
That get under our skin.

A young man had been to Wednesday night Bible Study. The Pastor had shared about listening to God and obeying the Lord's voice. The young man couldn't help but wonder, "Does God still speak to people?"

After service he went out with some friends for coffee and pie and they discussed the message. Several different ones talked about how God had led them in different ways. It was about ten o'clock when the young man started driving home. Sitting in his car, he just began to pray, "God.. If you will listen. I will do my best to obey."

As he drove down the main street of his town, he had the strangest thought to stop and buy a gallon of milk.He shook his head an said out loud, "God is that you?" He didn't get a reply an started on toward home. But again the thought to stop and buy a gallon of milk. The young man though about Samuel and how he didn't recognize the voice of God, and how little Samuel ran to Eli. "Okay, God, in case that is you, I will buy the milk." It didn't seem like too hard a test of obedience. He could always use the milk. He stopped and purchased the gallon of milk and started of toward home. As he passed Seventh Street, he again felt the urge, "Turn down that street." This is crazy he thought and drove on past the intersection. Again, he felt that he should turn down Seventh Street At the next intersection, he turned back and headed down Seventh. Half jokingly, he said out loud, "Okay, God, I will". He drove several blocks, when suddenly, he felt like he should stop. He pulled over to the curb and looked around. He was in a semicommercial area of town. It wasn't the best but it wasn't the worst of neighborhoods either.

The businesses were closed and most of the houses looked dark like the people of the houses were already in bed. Again, he sensed something, "Go and give the milk to the people in the house across the street." The young man looked at the house. It was dark and it looked like the people were already asleep. He started to open the door and then sat back in the car seat. "Lord, this is insane. Those people are asleep and if I wake them up, they are going to be mad and I will look stupid." Again, he felt like he should go and give the milk.

Finally, he opened the door, "Okay God, if this is you, I will go to the door and I will give them the milk. If you want me to look like a crazy person, okay. I want to be obedient. I guess that will count for something but if they don't answer right away, I am out of here." He walked across the street and rant the bell. He could hear so noise inside. A man's voice yelled out, "Who is it? What do you want?"

Then the door opened before the young man could get away. The man was standing there in his jeans and T-shirt. He looked like he just got out of bed. He had a strange look on his face and he didn't seem too happy to have some stranger standing on his doorstep.

"What is it?" The young man thrust out the gallon of milk, "Here, I brought this to you." The man took the milk and rushed down a hallway speaking loudly in Spanish. Then from done the hall came a woman carrying the milk toward the kitchen. The man was following her holding a baby. The baby was crying.

The man had tears streaming down his face. The man began speaking and half crying, "We were just praying. We had some big bills this month and we ran out of money. We didn't have any milk for our baby. I was just praying and asking God to show me. How to get some milk." His wife in the kitchen yelled out, "I ask him to send an Angel with some. Are you an Angel?"

The young man reached into his wallet and pulled out all the money he had on him and put it in the man's hand. He turned and walked back toward his car and the tears were streaming down his face. He knew that God still answers prayers.

A young man was at the end of his road , seeing no way out, he dropped to his knees in prayer.

"Lord, I can't go on," he said. "I have too heavy a cross to bear."

The Lord replied, "My son, if you can't bear its weight, just place your cross inside this room.

Then, open that other door and pick out any cross you wish."

The man was filled with relief and said, "Thank you Lord," and he did as he was told.

Upon entering the other room, he saw many crosses; some so large the tops were not visible. Then, he spotted a tiny cross leaning against a far wall.

"I'd like that one, Lord," he whispered. The Lord replied, "My son, that is the cross you just brought in."

When life's problems seem overwhelming, it helps to look around and see what other people are coping with. You may consider yourself far more fortunate than you imagined.

YOUR CROSS

Whatever your cross
Whatever your pain
There will always be sunshine
After the rain

Perhaps you may stumble
Perhaps even fall
But God's always there
To help you through it all

My little boy came into the kitchen this evening while I was fixing supper. And he handed me a piece of paper he'd been writing on. So, after wiping my hands on my apron, I read it, and this is what it said:

For mowing the grass, $5.
For making my own bed this week, $1.
For going to the store $.50.
For playing with baby brother while you went shopping, $.25.
For taking out the trash, $1.
For getting a good report card, $5.
And for raking the yard, $2.

Well, I looked at him standing there expectantly, and a thousand memories flashed through my mind. So, I picked up the paper, and turning it over, this is what I wrote:

For the nine months I carried you, growing inside me, No Charge.

For the nights I sat up with you, doctored you prayed for you, No charge.

For the time and the tears, and the cost through the years, No Charge.

For the nights filled with dread, and the worries ahead, No Charge.

For advice and the knowledge, and the cost of your college, No Charge.

For the toys, food and clothes, and for wiping your nose, No Charge.

Son, when you add it all up, the full cost of my love is No Charge.

Well, when he finished reading, he had great big tears in his eyes. And he looked up at me and he said, "Mama, I sure do love you." Then he took the pen and in great big letters he wrote, PAID IN FULL.