Bury the old man!
Way back in the early 80’s I listened daily to a radio minister named J.Vernon McGee, some of you may remember him. His broadcasts were a focal point in my life at the time. Back then he would go through the Bible in a year’s time then later on he began to slow the process down a bit and do it over a two year period. Not surprising his radio show was called “Through the Bible with J. Vernon McGee”. Actually, his broadcasts are still being aired daily in this part of the country even though Pastor McGee has been deceased for several years.
I hadn’t thought much of ol’ J. Vernon for awhile now, at least not until a minister at one of the churches I attended recently relayed a story that I remember hearing Pastor McGee tell years ago – and this is really what I wanted to share here.
As the story goes there was a rich, elderly fellow that lived in a gorgeous old Plantation home on a huge piece of property in Georgia. He married a beautiful and much younger woman. Then after a couple of years of marriage he passed away of natural causes. His wife was very respectful of her late husband even to the point of being peculiar. She decided to have his body stuffed by a local taxidermist and placed it in his favorite rocking chair. She had a glass company construct a sealed box large enough to house the mounted cadaver. She placed the strange display in the foyer of their home so everyone coming in could see her undying affection for her late husband.
After a few years of inescapable grief she was convinced by her closest friends to take a trip overseas to get away from the home which she had become a prisoner of since her husband’s passing. While in Europe she met a man and began feeling emotions she thought were dead inside of her. She extended her stay abroad for several months and ended up marrying this new man in her life. She finally convinced him to leave his country and come with her to America to live in the beautiful home her first husband had left behind.
As they were to enter the home her new husband decided to lift up his bride and carry her across the threshold. Immediately after coming through the door he abruptly drops her body to the floor and screams out – What in the world is that? She apologizes for having failed to tell him about the display of her first husband.
After regaining his senses her groom tells her, “You may have been married to that old man and surly you may have enjoyed the times and experiences you shared with him – but now you belong to a new man – the old man is dead! He explained in no uncertain terms that she must be willing to bury her old and very dead husband in order for him to live with her. She finally understood that it was time to let go of what she had been holding onto for years. They buried the old man, rocking chair and all in a gravesite on the outer edge of the property and went on to live a full life together.
And thus it is with our lives. When we were in the world we lived with the old man, the old woman – yet through Christ we are made new. But for some of us we still try holding on to some of the old man long after our conversions. We linger in a relationship that should be both dead AND buried. His word tells us plainly that we can’t hold on to the old man if we truly want to be a new creation through God’s un-measurable gift of Grace.
We have to be willing to put all aspects of our past behind us, and take up our new cross and follow Him. Hanging on to people and things of our past well after they are passed away simply causes us delays in our journey. If you've read anything from me lately you realize that I have been guilty of that sin. At somepoint it becomes the right time to set them aside, to bury them for good. Have you reached that point today? I know I have! Regardless how difficult it is we must bury the old man and move forward into the life of abundance which He has set aside for us.
“The old man has passed away and now we are a new creation in Him.”
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
more than a song
Each day for some time now, I start my workday (after getting this box cranked up) with my playlist headliner, Michael W. Smith’s The Heart of Worship. What a great song to help get focused on my purpose in life while at work – to worship and praise God in all of my thoughts, words, and actions. Trust me, I need all of the help that I can get! I feel like I’m cheating on a test each day, because I listen to Christian music almost 24/7. I know there aren’t a lot of folks that have that opportunity, and I truly appreciate what God has given me. I also know that He has placed me in this position because of my weaknesses, and He understands my needs much better than I do.
The lyrics that I like most from this song are, “I’ll bring you more than a song, for a song in itself is not what you have required - you search much deeper within - through the way things appear - your looking into my heart - I’m coming back to the heart of worship, and its all about you, its all about you Jesus - I’m sorry Lord, for the thing that I’ve made it! Its all about you, its all about you Jesus.”
What insightfulness for a songwriter to admit that “songs” are not what Jesus asks of us! It’s much more, so much more than just our praises. The same for a pastor to proclaim that sermons are not the purpose of his Christianity, or a writer to acknowledge that the words may come from God, yet the purpose in our lives, as His people is so much greater than the pen can capture. And it’s with that thought in mind that I break from the norm today, and share more than my words. As you guys know, I’ve been sharing “my personal journal entries” each week at this time, yet today I want to extend to you something from someone else’s life, which I don’t posses the words to express properly.
The following story was shared in a sermon given by Dr. Rick Blackwood, Senior Pastor at Christ Fellowship in Pametto Bay, Fla. several years ago. The story is of a father’s love, pain, anguish, and most certainly a father’s hope. I in turn, hope that somehow in some small way it finds a purpose in your own life today, as we all share our Christianity with each other. If you’re a parent, you’ll understand even more so the emotional state from where this letter was written.
Pastor Rick began by reading a tribute that a father had written after losing his young daughter to Death, and it goes as follows; “My dear Bristol, before you were born, I prayed for you. In my heart I knew that you would be a little angel, and so you were. When you were born on my birthday, it was evident that you were a special gift from the Lord. But how profound a gift you turned out to be! More than a beautiful bundle of gurgles and rosy cheeks, more than the first-born of my flesh, a joy unspeakable, you showed me God’s love more than anything else in all creation. Bristol, you taught me how to love.”
“I certainly loved you when you were cuddly and cute, when you rolled over, sat up and jabbered your first words. I loved you when the searing pain of realization took hold that something was wrong; that maybe you were not developing as quickly as your peers, and then when we understood it was more serious than that. I loved you when we went from hospital, to clinic, to doctor, looking for a medical diagnosis that would bring some hope. And, of course, we always prayed for you, and prayed, prayed.”
“I loved you when one of the tests resulted in too much spinal fluid being drawn from your body - and you screamed. I loved you when you when you moaned and cried; and when your mom and I, and your sisters would drive for hours late at night, to help you fall asleep. I loved you with tears in my eyes when, confused, you would bite your fingers, or your lip by accident. I loved you when your eyes crossed, and then went blind.”
“I most certainly loved you when you could no longer speak, but how profoundly I missed your voice! I loved you when your scoliosis started wrenching your body like a pretzel, when they put a tube in your stomach so you could eat because you were choking on your food, which we fed you, one spoonful at a time - up to two hours per meal. Bristol, I even loved you when you could not say the one thing in life that I longed to hear back – “Daddy, I love you”. Bristol, I loved you when I was close to God, and when he seemed far away, when I was full of faith, and also when I was angry at Him.”
“The reason I loved you, my Bristol, in spite of these difficulties is that God put this love in my heart. This is the wondrous nature of God’s love, that He loves us even when we are blind, deaf, or twisted – in body or in spirit. God loves us even when we can’t tell Him we love Him back. My dear Bristol, now you are free! I look forward to that day, according to God’s promises, when we will be joined together with you - with the Lord, completely whole and full of joy. I’m so happy that you have your crown first. We will follow you someday- in His time.”
“I’m sorry Lord, for the thing that I have made it!
I bring you more than a song God, because you deserve so much more - for loving me through all of my spiritual deficiencies, deformities, blindness, and especially through those times that I forget to, or simply refuse to tell you - Daddy, I love you… doug
The lyrics that I like most from this song are, “I’ll bring you more than a song, for a song in itself is not what you have required - you search much deeper within - through the way things appear - your looking into my heart - I’m coming back to the heart of worship, and its all about you, its all about you Jesus - I’m sorry Lord, for the thing that I’ve made it! Its all about you, its all about you Jesus.”
What insightfulness for a songwriter to admit that “songs” are not what Jesus asks of us! It’s much more, so much more than just our praises. The same for a pastor to proclaim that sermons are not the purpose of his Christianity, or a writer to acknowledge that the words may come from God, yet the purpose in our lives, as His people is so much greater than the pen can capture. And it’s with that thought in mind that I break from the norm today, and share more than my words. As you guys know, I’ve been sharing “my personal journal entries” each week at this time, yet today I want to extend to you something from someone else’s life, which I don’t posses the words to express properly.
The following story was shared in a sermon given by Dr. Rick Blackwood, Senior Pastor at Christ Fellowship in Pametto Bay, Fla. several years ago. The story is of a father’s love, pain, anguish, and most certainly a father’s hope. I in turn, hope that somehow in some small way it finds a purpose in your own life today, as we all share our Christianity with each other. If you’re a parent, you’ll understand even more so the emotional state from where this letter was written.
Pastor Rick began by reading a tribute that a father had written after losing his young daughter to Death, and it goes as follows; “My dear Bristol, before you were born, I prayed for you. In my heart I knew that you would be a little angel, and so you were. When you were born on my birthday, it was evident that you were a special gift from the Lord. But how profound a gift you turned out to be! More than a beautiful bundle of gurgles and rosy cheeks, more than the first-born of my flesh, a joy unspeakable, you showed me God’s love more than anything else in all creation. Bristol, you taught me how to love.”
“I certainly loved you when you were cuddly and cute, when you rolled over, sat up and jabbered your first words. I loved you when the searing pain of realization took hold that something was wrong; that maybe you were not developing as quickly as your peers, and then when we understood it was more serious than that. I loved you when we went from hospital, to clinic, to doctor, looking for a medical diagnosis that would bring some hope. And, of course, we always prayed for you, and prayed, prayed.”
“I loved you when one of the tests resulted in too much spinal fluid being drawn from your body - and you screamed. I loved you when you when you moaned and cried; and when your mom and I, and your sisters would drive for hours late at night, to help you fall asleep. I loved you with tears in my eyes when, confused, you would bite your fingers, or your lip by accident. I loved you when your eyes crossed, and then went blind.”
“I most certainly loved you when you could no longer speak, but how profoundly I missed your voice! I loved you when your scoliosis started wrenching your body like a pretzel, when they put a tube in your stomach so you could eat because you were choking on your food, which we fed you, one spoonful at a time - up to two hours per meal. Bristol, I even loved you when you could not say the one thing in life that I longed to hear back – “Daddy, I love you”. Bristol, I loved you when I was close to God, and when he seemed far away, when I was full of faith, and also when I was angry at Him.”
“The reason I loved you, my Bristol, in spite of these difficulties is that God put this love in my heart. This is the wondrous nature of God’s love, that He loves us even when we are blind, deaf, or twisted – in body or in spirit. God loves us even when we can’t tell Him we love Him back. My dear Bristol, now you are free! I look forward to that day, according to God’s promises, when we will be joined together with you - with the Lord, completely whole and full of joy. I’m so happy that you have your crown first. We will follow you someday- in His time.”
“I’m sorry Lord, for the thing that I have made it!
I bring you more than a song God, because you deserve so much more - for loving me through all of my spiritual deficiencies, deformities, blindness, and especially through those times that I forget to, or simply refuse to tell you - Daddy, I love you… doug
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
from the depths of brokenness
It’s been months since I added anything to this string of journal entries. Often I’ve thought I would never return here. Often I’ve thought I would never be worthy enough to share anything I write – and in that context I was absolutely right. I’ll never be worthy of anything, lest by His grace and His grace alone. While times have been tremendously difficult since July the place where the answers lie has always been known. I would like to be able to say with a resounding and confident voice what I’ve gone through has been a character-building process, but that sounds like such a cliché and so shallow. It’s much harder to admit the truth - to talk openly of the three days I was so preoccupied with the thought of suicide that I was barely able to function in the real world.
From the depths of brokenness – my brokenness.
I would like to say I’m over the hump and I’ve got a better grip on life, but the truth is that as I sit here typing the tears of a broken heart slowly crawl from the corners of my eyes. I would like to say I’m stronger in my faith because of His unrelenting presence in all of this, yet I still have doubts, I still have unanswered questions, I somehow still find a way to disobey on a daily basis. I would like to say through this situation I’ve found my real self, yet to be quite honest I’m still not there. I would like to say I’m over the delusion that somehow this whole relationship thing will work out the way I would like for it to in the end, yet I still haven’t given up all hope – not yet anyway.
I would like to be able to write about how I’ve been able to put aside all of my hurt and pain and focus on helping others and serving God, yet that would be a lie. Now, more often than not I seem to pass up opportunity after opportunity to help out in projects of compassion I’ve loved being a part of for so long. I would love to say with a firm mind I’ve got this great vision as to what and how I’m supposed to live out my days, but the truth of the matter is I struggle with being faithful to God’s calling on my life today, much less tomorrow, or the next.
Don't get me wrong I would never compare my hurt from a senseless divorce to be equal to the losses others suffer, yet for me it’s just as real. Parents losing children, children losing parents, spouses and partners dying in the most untimely of circumstances - all much greater on the scale of finality, and I understand that but the pain is still very much real. Statistics tell us divorce happens so routinely in America that it shouldn’t be considered a surprise any longer. That it should merely be considered a realistic possibility when a couple gets married. As certain as death do us part is the notion that the legal process can just as easily separate husband from wife. Yet, who among us is qualified to say that the individual hurt isn’t just as real today as it was when the percentage of marriages ending in divorce was less than 50%. Who can say that the affect divorce is having on the moral soundness of our society shouldn’t be seen as the human tragedy that it is.
From the depths of brokenness. Not just mine, yet our nation as a whole.
It seems so much national attention is given to who should or should not be allowed to marry, yet little focus is on keeping together those that have been joined in the sight of God. We know that bankruptcy laws have been tightened in the past few years, yet all the while our divorce laws have been loosened. What does that say about what we as a nation consider sacred today? "and there shall your heart be also"...
I continue to move further and further from the depths of brokenness with each passing day. Sometimes it’s measured in small baby steps, yet I’m moving slowly but surely and that’s what’s important for me right now. To write about something less personal today would have been much easier for me yet you would've known I was being pretentious and hypocritical when this calling has been anything but. My confidence comes from a relationship with one that will never leave us nor forsake us - my precious Lord and Savior. For in the depths of brokenness I’ve survived solely on the nourishment of His love. His mercy really is enough!
I want to share with you excerpts from an article printed in The Plain Dealer newspaper from Ohio back in May of this year. (You can read the full article if you look up the archives section of their paper.) For whatever reason, I copied and filed it and then I stumbled across it again today. What can come from the depths of brokenness may not be easily seen in my situation, at least maybe not today – but in the story of Susan Cenkus it most certainly can. The final sentence in the article is a great reminder of an absolute truth for all of us. Whether it is with the healing of physical injuries, recovering from emotional trauma, or simply striving to live out our Christian walk – it's a lifelong process.
Mother returns to Tenn. waterfall where bear killed daughter
MOLLY KAVANAUGH, The Plain Dealer
CLEVELAND (AP) - Susan Cenkus always knew that someday she would return to the waterfall in the Tennessee mountains - the place where her heart broke apart.
This month, the mother from Clyde, Ohio, made the difficult journey back. It was a warm, sunny April afternoon, so much like the one almost two years ago to the day when she visited Benton Falls with her 6-year-old daughter, Elora, and 2-year-old son, Luke. On this afternoon, she was accompanied by her father; her 25-year-old son, Christopher; and Luke, now almost 5. Also with her were the men who tracked down the black bear that killed her daughter, seriously injured Luke and almost took her life.
Cenkus, her scars covered by a jacket and slacks, paused at the top of the 65-foot waterfall before heading down the rugged trail. At the bottom, forest workers would point out the spot where, bleeding and in pain, she called for help after the attack. They would show her where they found Elora's lifeless body and where the bear started its relentless attack by first grabbing her son. Then Cenkus and her father and two sons stepped away from the others, sat on a rock and bowed their heads in prayer. Cenkus' faith had brought her such a long way. A couple of weeks before Cenkus and her family headed to Tennessee in the spring of 2006, Elora told her mother, "I may go to heaven before you." Cenkus didn't think much about the comment. The two cuddled every night and said prayers together. God was as real to Elora as her mother. "We never know when it's our time to go to heaven," she told Elora. "I sure hope you live many more years than Mommy.
On that dreadful day Cenkus spotted a bear on a ridge about 100 feet away. She yelled to her children. It was time to leave. Within minutes, the bear raced down the hill, across the creek and attacked Luke, wrapping a giant paw over his skull. Cenkus yanked the boy from the animal's grip and stared into the 200-pound bear's eyes, praying it would back off. For a few seconds, it worked. But as she turned away to check on her children, the bear lunged at her, sinking its teeth into the back of her neck. "Save my children," she screamed to the nearby family. I'm going to die, she thought, as sharp teeth and long claws ripped at her arms and legs. She heard her bones crush.
The pain was excruciating. She asked God to make her unconscious. Then she blacked out. The emergency call came in about 4 p.m. from the other family who had been visiting the falls. Luke was airlifted to the hospital. Paramedics headed down to the waterfall, where they found Cenkus on the ground, bleeding but now conscious. She asked about her son and daughter. Paramedics then realized a second child had been with her and spread the word to rescue workers converging on the site. Cenkus was on her way to the hospital when rescuers spotted a bear in a thicket by a nearby stream. The bear reared up and growled and rescuers fired at it. The bear ran into the woods, leaving behind Elora's body. Paramedics took off their shirts and covered the little girl's body. Another rescuer stood guard in case the bear returned and tried to carry the body away.
A few weeks after being released from the hospital Cenkus returned to Clyde Church of God, where her father, Gene Paul Sr., is pastor and she is a worship leader. He surprised her by asking her to come forward to sing. "How am I going to do this?" she thought as she shuffled slowly up the aisle, her right arm bandaged and hanging limp. Her second thought was, "God will give me strength." She began singing, almost in a whisper, "Great Is Thy Faithfulness." With each stanza her voice grew stronger. The church members wept. "When the hard times come, you have to have a deep relationship with God," her father said.
"Everybody she comes into contact with, they are just amazed by her faith," said Richard Taylor, area coordinator of the Tennessee Emergency Management Agency and now a close friend of the family. "She inspires you to be better." In her new job as patient- and family-care coordinator at Stein Hospice in Sandusky, she has shared her journey with patients and families struggling to accept death. "I think probably going back to the falls was the largest major step I had to take to heal," she said. "That place is sacred to us because that's where Elora went to heaven." One thing she had struggled with was thinking about what happened to Elora after she passed out and wasn't able to help her daughter. "It is time to put that in the past," she said. Cenkus believes that healing is a lifelong process.
His love and grace are sufficent for all - doug
From the depths of brokenness – my brokenness.
I would like to say I’m over the hump and I’ve got a better grip on life, but the truth is that as I sit here typing the tears of a broken heart slowly crawl from the corners of my eyes. I would like to say I’m stronger in my faith because of His unrelenting presence in all of this, yet I still have doubts, I still have unanswered questions, I somehow still find a way to disobey on a daily basis. I would like to say through this situation I’ve found my real self, yet to be quite honest I’m still not there. I would like to say I’m over the delusion that somehow this whole relationship thing will work out the way I would like for it to in the end, yet I still haven’t given up all hope – not yet anyway.
I would like to be able to write about how I’ve been able to put aside all of my hurt and pain and focus on helping others and serving God, yet that would be a lie. Now, more often than not I seem to pass up opportunity after opportunity to help out in projects of compassion I’ve loved being a part of for so long. I would love to say with a firm mind I’ve got this great vision as to what and how I’m supposed to live out my days, but the truth of the matter is I struggle with being faithful to God’s calling on my life today, much less tomorrow, or the next.
Don't get me wrong I would never compare my hurt from a senseless divorce to be equal to the losses others suffer, yet for me it’s just as real. Parents losing children, children losing parents, spouses and partners dying in the most untimely of circumstances - all much greater on the scale of finality, and I understand that but the pain is still very much real. Statistics tell us divorce happens so routinely in America that it shouldn’t be considered a surprise any longer. That it should merely be considered a realistic possibility when a couple gets married. As certain as death do us part is the notion that the legal process can just as easily separate husband from wife. Yet, who among us is qualified to say that the individual hurt isn’t just as real today as it was when the percentage of marriages ending in divorce was less than 50%. Who can say that the affect divorce is having on the moral soundness of our society shouldn’t be seen as the human tragedy that it is.
From the depths of brokenness. Not just mine, yet our nation as a whole.
It seems so much national attention is given to who should or should not be allowed to marry, yet little focus is on keeping together those that have been joined in the sight of God. We know that bankruptcy laws have been tightened in the past few years, yet all the while our divorce laws have been loosened. What does that say about what we as a nation consider sacred today? "and there shall your heart be also"...
I continue to move further and further from the depths of brokenness with each passing day. Sometimes it’s measured in small baby steps, yet I’m moving slowly but surely and that’s what’s important for me right now. To write about something less personal today would have been much easier for me yet you would've known I was being pretentious and hypocritical when this calling has been anything but. My confidence comes from a relationship with one that will never leave us nor forsake us - my precious Lord and Savior. For in the depths of brokenness I’ve survived solely on the nourishment of His love. His mercy really is enough!
I want to share with you excerpts from an article printed in The Plain Dealer newspaper from Ohio back in May of this year. (You can read the full article if you look up the archives section of their paper.) For whatever reason, I copied and filed it and then I stumbled across it again today. What can come from the depths of brokenness may not be easily seen in my situation, at least maybe not today – but in the story of Susan Cenkus it most certainly can. The final sentence in the article is a great reminder of an absolute truth for all of us. Whether it is with the healing of physical injuries, recovering from emotional trauma, or simply striving to live out our Christian walk – it's a lifelong process.
Mother returns to Tenn. waterfall where bear killed daughter
MOLLY KAVANAUGH, The Plain Dealer
CLEVELAND (AP) - Susan Cenkus always knew that someday she would return to the waterfall in the Tennessee mountains - the place where her heart broke apart.
This month, the mother from Clyde, Ohio, made the difficult journey back. It was a warm, sunny April afternoon, so much like the one almost two years ago to the day when she visited Benton Falls with her 6-year-old daughter, Elora, and 2-year-old son, Luke. On this afternoon, she was accompanied by her father; her 25-year-old son, Christopher; and Luke, now almost 5. Also with her were the men who tracked down the black bear that killed her daughter, seriously injured Luke and almost took her life.
Cenkus, her scars covered by a jacket and slacks, paused at the top of the 65-foot waterfall before heading down the rugged trail. At the bottom, forest workers would point out the spot where, bleeding and in pain, she called for help after the attack. They would show her where they found Elora's lifeless body and where the bear started its relentless attack by first grabbing her son. Then Cenkus and her father and two sons stepped away from the others, sat on a rock and bowed their heads in prayer. Cenkus' faith had brought her such a long way. A couple of weeks before Cenkus and her family headed to Tennessee in the spring of 2006, Elora told her mother, "I may go to heaven before you." Cenkus didn't think much about the comment. The two cuddled every night and said prayers together. God was as real to Elora as her mother. "We never know when it's our time to go to heaven," she told Elora. "I sure hope you live many more years than Mommy.
On that dreadful day Cenkus spotted a bear on a ridge about 100 feet away. She yelled to her children. It was time to leave. Within minutes, the bear raced down the hill, across the creek and attacked Luke, wrapping a giant paw over his skull. Cenkus yanked the boy from the animal's grip and stared into the 200-pound bear's eyes, praying it would back off. For a few seconds, it worked. But as she turned away to check on her children, the bear lunged at her, sinking its teeth into the back of her neck. "Save my children," she screamed to the nearby family. I'm going to die, she thought, as sharp teeth and long claws ripped at her arms and legs. She heard her bones crush.
The pain was excruciating. She asked God to make her unconscious. Then she blacked out. The emergency call came in about 4 p.m. from the other family who had been visiting the falls. Luke was airlifted to the hospital. Paramedics headed down to the waterfall, where they found Cenkus on the ground, bleeding but now conscious. She asked about her son and daughter. Paramedics then realized a second child had been with her and spread the word to rescue workers converging on the site. Cenkus was on her way to the hospital when rescuers spotted a bear in a thicket by a nearby stream. The bear reared up and growled and rescuers fired at it. The bear ran into the woods, leaving behind Elora's body. Paramedics took off their shirts and covered the little girl's body. Another rescuer stood guard in case the bear returned and tried to carry the body away.
A few weeks after being released from the hospital Cenkus returned to Clyde Church of God, where her father, Gene Paul Sr., is pastor and she is a worship leader. He surprised her by asking her to come forward to sing. "How am I going to do this?" she thought as she shuffled slowly up the aisle, her right arm bandaged and hanging limp. Her second thought was, "God will give me strength." She began singing, almost in a whisper, "Great Is Thy Faithfulness." With each stanza her voice grew stronger. The church members wept. "When the hard times come, you have to have a deep relationship with God," her father said.
"Everybody she comes into contact with, they are just amazed by her faith," said Richard Taylor, area coordinator of the Tennessee Emergency Management Agency and now a close friend of the family. "She inspires you to be better." In her new job as patient- and family-care coordinator at Stein Hospice in Sandusky, she has shared her journey with patients and families struggling to accept death. "I think probably going back to the falls was the largest major step I had to take to heal," she said. "That place is sacred to us because that's where Elora went to heaven." One thing she had struggled with was thinking about what happened to Elora after she passed out and wasn't able to help her daughter. "It is time to put that in the past," she said. Cenkus believes that healing is a lifelong process.
His love and grace are sufficent for all - doug
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