What’s so special about a New Year?

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           Second chances. New Year's resolutions. Who needs any of it?  Well for one, I do.        

What’s so special about a New Year?
By Nancy Virden (c)2011

          
 Stella was a thirty three year old lady with several children. She did not raise any of them. Her sobriety was less than one year old, and she was in the worst quandary of her life.

           You see, Stella was pregnant again. One might think this would be old-hat to her; deliver a baby, give it up. That’s not how she saw it. That’s not how her heart felt it.

           Stella was experiencing this pregnancy as if it were her first. She knew of her other children and cared about them, however that love and ache was fairly new. No longer in a haze of nearly constant drug abuse and alcoholic binges she was comprehending reality. Unfortunately for her, like for so many of us, the truth unveiled reason for regrets and sorrow.

           I first met Stella when she about to give birth. She was glad for her recent victories, proud she had not used throughout the entire pregnancy. Yet her heart was breaking. Family Services had informed her she could not keep this child either, despite all her efforts at rehabilitation. Parenting classes, collecting a baby’s material needs such as a crib and diapers, and attending her 12-step programs faithfully; these were not enough to please those who had all the power. Why?

           Stella was homeless.

           I pointed out county and city resources she could call and gave her some clothes. We spoke of second chances and eternal hope. Weeping, she prayed to receive Jesus Christ’s ultimate gift of love for her. Then she said she had to leave.

           A few weeks later, we met again. Stella held a beautiful baby girl and grinned widely as I exclaimed over her new daughter. As we sat to catch me up on this unexpected change of events, Stella grew quiet. Anxiety crossed her face as she answered my questions. Yes, she was still sober. Yes, she had found a home. No, she did not have custody.

           “Then how is it you have your little girl with you? “ I asked, confused.

           “The baby’s father has custody.” She replied, her eyes downcast.

           “I didn’t know you knew...”

           “Yes”

           “Then what happened?”

           “Yes, the father was a customer when I was prostituting for drug money. We did a paternity test.”  Stella sighed helplessly. “He has agreed to let me live with him and the baby on one obvious condition. He has threatened to take her away if I ever fail to please him.”

           “Stella, that’s abuse!”

           “I know. But I have no choice. There is no place else to live and I could lose her. Nancy, what else can I do?  He has full custody!”

           Yes, it is clear to me second chances are necessary. It would be nice if New Year’s Day came with a clean slate of hope for people like Stella.

           And for me.

           My content with the status quo kept me from reaching out to Stella when she needed me. I could have helped her find a home, nevertheless I did not. And now she is in the most desperate situation of her life. That’s saying a lot considering her experiences.

           I don’t know where Stella is today. Whenever I think of her, which is often, I pray for her and her child. Is she drug-free?  Is she with her daughter?  Is she still living with that leech of a man?  I have these questions, nonetheless a greater question might be, “Why don’t I know her situation?”

           It’s simple. That information is not mine because I did not ask where she was living. I did not get her phone number. Her last name was never offered. Stella and her baby are out of my sight because the status quo was just too comfortable to deny.

           However, they are not out of mind. And neither is my need for a second chance.

What are the dangers of the status quo? Will you remain the same in 2012 as you were in 2011?

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Holiday Splendor

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Holiday Splendor

By Nancy Virden (c)2011

The holidays can be the impetus for various moods. Christmas music adds to wintry enthusiasm and hopes with lively tunes. Sentimental melodic songs make us wistful for days gone by or never realized. Challenging weather changes, long-anticipated family gatherings, and yearning for people who used to fill now empty chairs. All of it creates a mixture of emotions often-times unlike any other time of year. One simple fact remains for most of us- the epitome of pleasure at Christmas time is watching children enjoy the season.

The younger the child, the shorter the pause between Christmas morning and questions about the next big event. By summer they will be thinking about the new school year, and Christmas again by July.  When my sons were growing up, sometimes I just wanted them to focus on the here-and-now.  

All of Jonathan's fifth year he kept dreaming about being six. He envisioned that age to be a magical time of equality with grownups, independence, and better toys.  Repeatedly throughout the year I heard comments like "When I'm six..." and  "I can't wait to be six!". The morning finally arrived and I entered his room to awaken him. 

"Happy Birthday, Jonathan", I sang out.                                                     

Immediately came the sleepy reply, "Next year I'll be seven!"

Truth is, we don't appreciate much in this life until it is gone. As childhood whizzed past we spent much of our time thinking of the wonder of being a grownup.  Some grownups want to live in the past and bemoan the loss of youth.  It takes a special effort, a commitment to appreciation for someone to enjoy what they have been given in the present.

An example is my annual sabbatical to the Christmas tree. Once each Christmas season, after everyone in the household is fast asleep, I gather a blanket and pillow (and maybe a hot chocolate) and set up camp by our Christmas tree. My favorite instrumental music plays in the background as I beginning talking to God. I tell Him about my year and praise Him for being with me through it all, then listen.

He whispers of His love for me. He confides His plans for my life. We share moments that cannot be expressed in mere English. As I thank Him silently, the miracle happens. Gazing at the tree endowed with twinkling lights, through my tears I see prisms. Each tiny lamp becomes a shooting star. Hundreds of rainbow colored luminescent spires shoot to the ceiling and I remember this is the God who formed light out of nothing.  "He wraps Himself in light as with a garment", He is the "Father of the heavenly lights". He is the grand creator of this splendor and yet holds me in His hands. He is to be trusted with my life. I have everything to be thankful for.

Hence, I do have a commitment to appreciation despite moods to the contrary. I encourage you to do the same. Pause and seek God's face. Write down His blessings if you wish. Could you stop and smell the roses?  Sure, in the summer!  

Suspending the busyness of this time of year just requires fixing your eyes on the Light as you view Christmas trees through grateful tears.

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Merry Holidaymas?

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By Nancy Virden  c2011

           Reality check: This is a holiday season for most of us. The all-inclusive “Happy Holidays” is not a direct hit on Christmas or on Christ for that matter. Rather, it may be the ideal God had in mind from the beginning.

MERRY HOLIDAYMAS?

           “Christmas is not even celebrated by Christians the same day of the year around the world”, Alex mused as he sipped his coffee. “So why do people around here get so fanatic about it? As if they own December!”

           “This is America”, came the reply. “If people don’t like when we celebrate Christmas, they can live somewhere else.” Alex’ co-worker, Mike, was adamant.

           “This IS America.” Alex continued, “We’ve built a nation on freedom of religion, yet somehow Christians seem to have an agenda of their own. Maybe I don’t want a nativity on the City Hall lawn.”

           “The nativity is what Christmas is all about. If we take it down, what else is there? Santa Claus?”

           Alex paused. It was difficult enough to be a Muslim convert in America, he wasn’t sure he relished opening up the topic with Mike. His stand on Christmas made perfect sense to him, why couldn’t Christians understand?  He decided to try and make his point.

           “November and December is a holiday season for many Americans beside Christians. There is Hanukkah for Jewish worshipers, of course.  Bahai, Shinto, Sikh, Buddhist, and even secular special days are celebrated this time of year. Kwanzaa’s focus is on African-American unity and strong families. Even we Muslims have our New Year and Ashura, a Holy Day for us”.

           A long pause followed.

           “You’re Muslim?” Mike asked incredulously.

           “Yes, I’m Muslim. And as such, I don’t want my government exalting one religion above another. It is done that way in other countries and citizens are persecuted because of it.”

           “Ok, but this is Christmas time”, Mike insisted.

           “December 25 is Christmas here in the West. No one is suggesting we cancel your celebration. But why are Christians in an uproar about ‘Merry Christmas’ and refusing to say ‘Happy Holidays’ to the rest of us? It shuts down communication. And from what I know of your Jesus”, Alex said cautiously. “He wasn’t about pushy- He was about love. I would be more interested in a Christian’s words if he or she actually lived how Jesus said to live.”

           Mike was silent as he walked away remembering his morning stop at the convenience store. “I have spent more energy pushing ‘Merry Christmas’ on store clerks than I have saying anything encouraging to them the rest of the year”, he admitted to himself. “And I almost drove a wedge between Alex and me.”

What of it?  Are “Merry Christmas” or “Happy Holidays” expressions of  agendas?  Does it matter  what you or others say this time of year?

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The question of abortion

By Nancy Virden c2011                                                                       brought to you by Shout It Out Loud  for band and concert information visit

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           I was twelve years old when Roe vs. Wade became the catalyst for legal abortions in the United States. Having heard many opinions on both sides of the issue, I was confused for a few years.  Pro-choice arguments sounded reasonable: a woman's rights over her own body; the need for legal and safe abortion procedures to prevent women from dying in back-alley attempts; the right to end a pregnancy that threatens the life of the mother; and the right to end a pregnancy that is a result of rape or incest. 

           Having been through two pregnancies that were abortion-worthy by some standards, having listened to post-abortive women, and having worked with children who were unwanted and yet born, the question of abortion is no longer a quandary for me.  I am pro-life because I detest the wanted versus unwanted message - the idea that the decision of who is wanted or unwanted in this life belongs to people who have something to gain or lose in making the decision.  It does not.  Who does the wanted/unwanted message harm? The victim of sexual abuse needs to know she has value beyond what her tormentor considered.  A promiscuous daughter of a negligent dad deserves to experience a lasting love.  An overwhelmed single mother whose children’s father left her behind warrants being cherished. The unfaithful wife must understand forgiveness.  Abortion only limits these insights.  As women are told the life they carry is disposable, they miss the message from God that all life is sacred and wanted. Even their own. 

THE QUESTION OF ABORTION

           She had entered the Center seeking a free pregnancy test. Upon learning the results were positive, the fifteen year-old and her mother wept. It was the wrong answer at the wrong time. She was too young, had her carefree teen years ahead of her, had plans for romance and education that did not include a baby.  No, not yet.

           What had she done to deserve this? Hadn’t her choice been the same one her boyfriend made?  They were just having fun, experimenting with sex. It had been foolish and impulsive, yes.  Nonetheless, should her life be derailed by the consequences?

           This baby. This baby was just a consequence.  It wasn’t fair she should be stuck with it. Her tears were a mixture of shock, disbelief, a dawning awareness, guilt, and... sorrow.

           After a few weeks, she returned to speak with me. “I don’t know what to do”, she pleaded.  Tossing her long dark hair over her shoulder, she sighed. “I don’t want this baby.”

           “I see you are struggling with the idea of raising a child.”

           “Yeah. I mean, I’m just a kid myself. My mom said she won’t help me.”

           “Have you given any thought to providing your baby with a home through adoption?” I asked.

           Considering her options, she replied.  "I would not like to live knowing my baby is out there somewhere.  I'd rather have an abortion."  Her serious face matched her emphatic tone.

           “That tells me something.  It tells me you know instinctively you would indeed wonder about this so-called "unwanted" child and feel guilty for giving him or her up. It also tells me you are ignorant or in denial about abortion's consequences as you seem to believe your trauma would not exist if the baby did not.” 

TELL ME, IS IT THE CHILDREN OR THE DIFFICULTIES THEY CAN BRING

THAT ARE UNWANTED?

IS ABORTION THE SOLUTION?

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Is Thanksgiving Just for Turkeys?

By Nancy Virden c2011                                                                       brought to you by Shout It Out Loud  for band and concert information visit

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           Cheerless jokes abound about dysfunctional families, drunken uncles, and children having to kiss great-aunts who smell like Ben-Gay. In the midst of all the hullabaloo, the most indispensable story of our Thanksgiving feasts is often neglected.

Is Thanksgiving Just for Turkeys?

           Seated around the sprawling oak dining table were thirteen different tales, more than thirteen conflicting beliefs, and thirteen diverse ideas of what Thanksgiving is all about. 

           At one end sat a grown daughter who had spent the last thirty minutes arguing vehemently with her mother over who was in charge of the kitchen. She looked serene, but anyone who knew her well understood the forced little smile and straight back. She was angry. To her, Thanksgiving was supposed to be a perfectly orchestrated experience.

           A quick glance at this woman’s defeated contender revealed a face lined with exhaustion. Now her arms hung at her sides, her apron still tied loosely about her neck. Her Thanksgivings included weeks of preparation, and great relief at its end.

           Two male teenagers sat at the table’s divide. Both stared hungrily as the measured holiday prayer droned on. Spiritual words went unheeded as their thoughts turned to the afternoon. Thanksgiving for these two meant hearty servings of favorite dishes followed by street football.

           Pious words continued as a younger girl peeked through squeezed eyelids at the expressions of those who offered thanks. Her brother was staring at the pie. Their Dad was wearing a religious face while the lips of uncles and aunts moved silently in supposed earnest. While childish cousins were playfully kicking each other under the table and suppressing giggles, her early training that nothing is as it seems colored her perceptions.

           You see, behind the roast turkey and succulent dishes was a reality in harsh contrast to any superficial joy. Her parents were divorcing. Young faith contorted to fit around this belief of uncertainty, and her stomach knotted in dread. Wanting so much to believe in a permanent love, in her mind this Thanksgiving was a chance to deny the fear, to grab at the retreating familial fantasy for a short while longer.

           One suppressed tale was not actually seated at the table. A painted plaque on the wall read, “In this house, Christ is the unseen guest at every meal, the silent listener to every conversation.” It was ominous for the fact that despite its profound message no one paid any attention. It was a simple story with the potential to change every family in the room, yet much stayed the same. The Redeemer of parents, children, marriages, attitudes, and broken hearts was given cursory attention; the grand truth that God is the difference-maker went unheeded as the Thanksgiving prayer continued.

WHAT IS YOUR TALE? IF CHRIST WERE SEATED  AT YOUR TABLE, HOW WOULD YOU OR YOUR FAMILY LOOK DIFFERENT?

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Does Forever Matter?

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By Nancy Virden  c2011

Remember yesterday when you greeted the morning of the first day of the rest of your life?  Your forever is now two days older. Setting our sights on an afterlife that some promise to be heavenly is one way to imagine we are putting forever off until tomorrow. Nevertheless, forever is not timeless if it does not include today.

The idea of immortality entices some people to create lasting legacies; a statue, a building in their honor, authoring a book, instilling values in their children. Still others hide from any reminder that they may be forgotten altogether. Maybe the possibility of immortality affects our choices today.

Does Forever Matter?

A young woman told me of her near-death experience during surgery. Slipping too deeply under the anesthesia, she traveled to where she had a one-on-one talk with God.

“Is this it?” she asked.  Surrounded by blue light, she experienced a peace unequalled on earth. A complete lack of any concern or distress.

He allowed her to rest for a moment, and bask in the lightness of her mood. “You have to go back now,” she then heard Him say. “I want you to finish your life.”

Looking down as if through space at the body of a female she did not recognize, she resisted. “ I don’t want to be her”, she said referring to the heaviness of the strange woman’s heart. “She is in so much pain.”

“It is only for a short time. I have work for you to do.” His warm words echoed in her ears as she felt herself sliding downward as if through a chute. 

Her eyes opened. People with worried faces surrounded her. “You scared us,” a woman said. “We thought we were losing you.” 

As if awaking from the deepest dream she had ever experienced, the young woman asked repeatedly, “Is this real? Am I actually here?”

A nurse laughed. “People have some pretty strange reactions to being under. Yes, this is real.”

When I speak to this woman now, she expresses a sincere faith that an afterlife exists and God has a reason for her to wait. Life has been hard, the ache in her heart is potent. Recalling the flawless peace she knew for just one moment, current struggles weigh heavily, challenging her to be patient and driving her to fulfill her life’s purpose.

So what about us.  Do we “only go around once”? 

Does the possibility of immortality concern our lives today?

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If God is in Control, Why am I Suffering?

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volume 1

By Nancy Virden  c2011

Hello! This is the “heavenly voice” of the SIOL Band’s new weekly blog. (I’ll send $5 to the first person who catches the reference). It seems only fair to let you in on a little secret- I don’t do fluff. This blog may cause you to think, shout amen, make a fist, or in some other way create in you an urgent need to comment. I welcome all of the above. 

This will not be a purely religious blog although I am a Christian and what I think is definitely influenced by that fact. Rather, I hope to present a unique outlook on the world, one that is naturally mine and yet brings us all to the table no matter what we believe. This blog will feature true stories of currently living individuals. You may be surprised by what is coming- personally I hope to be challenged along with you.

If God is in Control, Why am I Suffering?

She agonized in tears, unable to contain her sobs.

“Why did God allow me to think I heard His voice in the decision to go off my medications? I was certain he was healing me.”

“I don’t know”, the therapist answered carefully. “You’re not alone in your struggle to understand God’s guidance, Emma. Off the top of my head I guess I would say an instant cure in your situation would have been short of the best for you.”

“Why?”

“Think of it this way. If God had healed your depression instantly you would feel better, yes?  However, you would not be learning to deal with your past traumas, developing healthier ways of coping, and relationships would remain difficult for you to manage.”

The therapist continued, “I had a client who once had an abscessed tooth. She was so afraid of dentists she kept that abscessed tooth for four years. When she was a young child, a dentist had slapped her across the face for crying during a tooth pull. So rather than face a dental chair again, for four long years she ate on the left side of her mouth, tried not to completely close her mouth at all, and dealt with the daily pain.

She asked God to cure her- she didn’t want to go to the dentist!  ‘Please’, she begged. Yet he did not mend her tooth. Instead, one day in desperation she looked for a dentist in the Yellow Pages. All the while, she was praying through tears, ‘God, please at least lead me to the right one.’

Right up to the door of the dentist’s office she was asking God to heal her so she wouldn’t have to go through with what was coming- another tooth pull. Nevertheless, He did not. At this point, she was definitely wondering why God wasn’t answering her prayers. In tears and shaking, she sat in the dental chair.

Following all this struggle, my client emerged with a growing new attitude. This dentist had not been abusive. He was kind and patient. Carefully selected anesthetics had made her entire experience better than she had imagined it would be. Before she left his office, she had scheduled her next appointment to begin regular checkups.

Years later, talking in my office, she and I could see how that experience was helping her to trust even in the middle of deeper personal pain. Now, Emma, if my client had been healed of her sore tooth, what would have changed in her life? She would still be living in fear as well as dealing with God-only-knows-what dental issues. Do you see how we might easily misunderstand His guidance based on what we want so passionately? Still, He directs us with our best interests at heart.”

What do you think, readers? Does God have your best interests at heart?

Is He really in control?

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