Hi everyone. I have missed all of you. Thank you to those of you that have left me messages. I appreciate them more than you know. I am still sitting with the "old folks". He is getting weaker daily. I am slowly watching a life ebb away. Sometimes he stares at her when she isn't aware of it. I can see stories flash across his face. Emotions...regrets...Unfilled time. I wonder if he is remembering when he met her? The first time that he kissed her? Is her face as lined in his memory as it is when I look at her? He was a strong man. He was a good man. People come by to visit him and tell me stories. They talk about the time that he bought food for poor families. Bought it and no one knew who it was from. They talk about the days that he paid bills for people that were losing thier homes. Hospital bills. Back in the days when it cost $ 25 to have a baby. That was a lot of money then. They told me that he went to a "work camp" during the war. A camp for Objectors. People that refused to fight. I wasn't even aware that those existed. He was a strong man back then. He built houses and he preached the Gospel. Now, I have to help him walk to the bathroom. Time isn't kind to us and I am more aware of that now. I see him staring at Nothing. Not blinking. I wonder if he is looking at the past or trying to see the future? I wonder how long his future will last? Not much longer, I think. There should be a reward for "good" people. For people that have lived thier lives with dignity. With grace. I will miss him terribly when he is gone. He has taught me stories with just his example. He is teaching me charity and kindness. He is and he was a good man. He has become my friend.

She sometimes remembers a man. And wonders how he is. She remembers holding hands and walking in the mountains. She remembers watching him sleep and thinking that she could die right there and be happy.She remembers his laugh, his corny jokes. The stories that he tried to write. He told her about the bad things that he had been through. The wreck that killed his girlfriend. The horrible way that he treated his wife. His wives. He told her that he would NEVER do that to her. He lied. She loved his mother. She still does. She remembers thinking that she was finally in love. Really and truly, forever in love. She remembers thinking that he was such a good father. He's not. She knows the minute that it started to end. The very second. A cruel remark that he made to her. He allowed his children to say hateful things about her because she was older than him. She remembers knowing that he didn't respect her. Didn't respect any woman. He didn't think that a man was capable of being faithful. She has met one that is. She is very, very certain of one thing now. He is the loser. He will regret things when he is older. And she will smile.

Perhaps this IS a true story. Perhaps it isn't. Only she knows.There was a nurse that traveled to many countries. It didn't pay as much as she would have made here in the United States but it made her feel she mattered. She was able to HELP people, really help. Her passport was full of stamps. Countries that not many people had ever visited. Would ever want to visit. A few years ago, she went with a medical team to Chechnya. It was a very small team. A doctor, another nurse, an interpreter and a body guard. They were one of the very last of any Americans or Europeans allowed into that sad, desolate country. It was winter and the roads were filled with craters. Craters from explosions. The trees were gone. The birds were gone. It was if NOTHING could survive there. The teams would travel by jeep to scenes of horror. The Russians had invaded and some Chechnyan rebels were trying thier hardest to keep out the Russians. There was brutality. Unlike anything that she had ever seen. Dead children. Men that had been blinded. Intentially. Women that had been raped. They would sit around a fire at night and listen to the wolves howling in the mountains and they would light the fires higher. She was cold and she carried a Makarov pistol. Healing hands holding a killing machine. One night she went to a nearby village and delivered a baby. The baby lived. The mother gave her a horsehair bracelet as thanks. It is one of her most treasured possessions. She would help the doctor amputate legs and feet and arms. Landmines and bullets know no boundries. They would pile them in a heap outside the tent until they had time to burn them. There is NO smell like flesh burning. NO sound like the explosions that are taking lives. They lived with the illusion that the Red Cross on the jeep would keep them safe. Keep them alive. Maybe it did. The one thing that kept her sane was thinking of the man that she loved. The man that waited for her. The man that she missed terribly. She yearned to touch him. She wanted to have his child. She loved him. One evening the team was in Grozny, the capital. Grozny is a Russian word that means cruel. There was very little, sporadic electricity. The walked by an old hotel that had been bombed and she shone her flashlight into the hole where the wall had been. There was a piano in the corner. It was piled high with debris but she cleared it off. She sat down and played "For you". She always thought that it was one of the MOST beautiful love songs that she had ever heard. She played very softly at first. They noticed that people were filing in. Listening. Then the soldiers came in. They listened as well so she played louder. No one but her and the American Doctor understood the words. She sang them to the man that she loved so much. The man that was an ocean away. A lifetime away. The only sounds in that cold lobby of that bombed motel were sniffling. The only sight, the glow of cigarette ashes from the soldiers smokes. She finished playing and there was silence. People shuffled out. Afraid again. Looking for a place to sleep. BUT... For a very brief time in a country filled with death and sadness, There had been music. There had been hope. She came home to the man. She loved him desperately. She sometimes loves him still. She had his child but he left. Sometimes though, after all this time...she can hear the words to this song and remember. Remember when she was part of a moment and part of a love that didn't last. And she cries.

Close your eyes and listen to the words to this song. Imagine the love. The lasting longing. The way that they would look forward to the morning to just see each others faces. Looking forward to nightime to listen to each others sleeping breath. Real love. Forever love. I have been very busy lately. I am sitting with a very old couple. He had a stroke and can't say much of anything. He can say "she's my sweetie", while looking at his wife. He can say " I love you " to her. That's all he can say and somehow that is enough. They have lived a lifetime together. They have five children. He is 88 and she is 83. Time probably won't grant them many more years together. Maybe not even many weeks. She tells me of when he farmed and of the war. She tells me of leaving her family in Colorado and moving to Alabama to be with him forever. She worries if he is cold. or hungry. She worries whether or not if he understands her. I tell her that he does. Love is a language that any heart can hear. I haven't been able to visit many of you. To read your wonderful blogs. I am not home very much now. I have been with this couple. I have been learning. About love. About what the vow REALLY means when the minister says " till death do you part". I'm afraid the day will come very soon when I will have time to come back here often. He isn't doing well. It will be the end of a love story. One that touched very few lives but one that has touched mine. I am grateful.

Tomorrow is a new year. A chance to start over. I read that Dan Folgerberg died last week. He was only 53 years old. This past year hasn't been a good one for me. I have had betrayal from a friend, heartbreak from someone that I once loved very much. Death of loved ones. A hard year. It will get better. I have made friends. I have smelled the wonder of a baby. I have seen him laugh. I have watched him learn. I have realized that people aren't always what or whom I thought that they were. 2008 will be my best year yet. Hopefully all of OUR best year. We have been given another chance. A chance to be happy. A chance to make a differance. I realized years ago by doing Mission work and nursing in foreign countries, that it is the little things that matter. The LITTLE things that make us honorable, that make us matter. We all have a chance to do that this year. We ALL can feed the hungry. We ALL can ease someone's loneliness. We ALL can ease someone's pain and make a differance in their life. Watch your children grow. Mow your neighbors yard or take them to the grocery. Visit a nursing home and listen to the stories. Mend a hurt. Make amends. Live your life with integrity. I am so blessed to have made such good friends here. I am thankful. You have touched my life. You have touched my heart. Thank you.