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Photo by Donna Tallman

“Mom, could you and Dad come now?” my oldest son asked calmly over the phone. “She’s in labor and we need to get to the hospital. Kensie’s waiting for you, can you come?”

I don’t remember answering my son’s question, but I’m sure I did.  Of course we’ll come, we have been waiting for weeks for this call. We were totally eager to come and watch our granddaughter while our new grandson was being born.

“On our way!” I reassured him quickly before darting through the house to let Bob know it was time to go.

Our bags were already packed so we threw them in the car and dashed to Denver. My son called again while we were in route redirecting us to the hospital, as they had to leave without us.

“No worries, we’re about ten miles away. We’ll be there in a few,” I promised as I hung up the phone and urged Bob to hurry.

I’ve done this baby drill a time or two in my life having lived in the company of women friends who have gone through it, had three boys of my own, and was at the hospital three years ago when Kensie was born. There actually is a rhythm to all the chaos despite the frantic minutes that attend it. The labor and delivery process is familiar to someone like me; I’m a veteran.

“Third floor,” I repeated to myself as Bob and I hopped on the elevator to make an anxious ride to the waiting room.

“Come on, come on,” I commanded the elevator. It ignored me.

Ding.

Finally!

When the elevator doors opened, there in the 3^rd floor lobby sat my son, granddaughter, and a young man neither Bob nor I had ever met. He was the birth father of our soon to be adopted grandson. This was his hour, this was his waiting room, and this was his son he was giving to us.

Thankfulness.

Overwhelming gratitude hit me full force as we were introduced to this brave young man, but very few words even entered my mind. I struggled to express our gratefulness.  My “thank yous” hung weakly in the air and didn’t come close to expressing the profound debt I felt to him. There were so many options he could have pursued, but he chose to give the greatest gift of all to my son and his family; he chose to give them the gift of life…

…the gift of his son.

Within minutes the lobby filled with a huge cadre of family supporters we also didn’t know. Aunts, cousins, friends, and birth grandparents descended on the 3^rd floor lobby waiting area anxiously waiting for the call to come and see the newborn baby. Celebration was in the air and we were all eager to rejoice together. Instantly we had become an intimate company of strangers joined by the umbilical cord of this tiny new life.

The caseworker from the adoption agency, Hope’s Promise, appeared at the doorway of the maternity ward welcoming all of us to come and see the new baby. The excited group moved quickly through the door and filled the room where the birth mother and baby were recovering.

The enthusiasm of the waiting room quickly gave way to hushed whispers as we stood before the mother and her newborn son.

Silence filled the spaces of my uncertainty followed by, followed by…

What is that?

It was a tension I couldn’t quite identify, one that all my years of bringing babies into the world hadn’t prepared me for…

Sacrifice.

Photo by Jodie

The painful, gut-wrenching sacrifice of this young mother washed over me as I watched each family member interact with her. This was not the celebration I had experienced with my children; this felt more like a funeral. Though I hadn’t even met her yet, her courageous grief incited many tears of compassion as I waited in the corner of the room. I couldn’t speak.

The young mother’s decision to carry her baby for nine months only to offer him to another family was the most sacrificial thing I’ve ever witnessed. Her selfless act of love will forever testify to me of her courage in personal distress and of her trust in God’s care for her precious little lamb.

Because she loved him, she relinquished her right to keep him.

Because she loved him, she entrusted her son’s future to God.

Because she loved him, she gave…

Because He loved us, God gave his Son.

 “For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish, but have eternal life.” John 3:16

Because He loved us, God called us his children.

“See how great a love the Father has bestowed on us, that we would be called children of God; and such we are. For this reason the world does not know us, because it did not know Him.” 1 John 3:1

Because He loved us, God adopted us as His own children.

“For you have not received a spirit of slavery leading to fear again, but you have received a spirit of adoption as sons by which we cry out, ‘Abba! Father!” Romans 8:15

Photo by Jodie

Open adoption is an incredible gift to the child suspended between all of the family members involved. As my son and daughter-in-law pass along our grandson’s physical heritage and legacy, it will be a tremendous blessing to him. He will know that he was loved all along the way in this process – by those who gave him life, and by those who received his life. Adoption is, indeed, an amazing privilege and a sobering responsibility for everyone.In the same way, being adopted as a child of God is an amazing privilege and a sobering responsibility as well. To make us heirs of all that He promised, God surrendered His own Son for us – not just to live on this earth, but also to die on this earth.

Because He loved us, God gave…

Hopefulness.

Just as adoptive parents wait in hope for what they have not seen or experienced first-hand because they did not physically carry the baby themselves for nine months, believers in Christ wait in hope for the day when their sonship with God is complete. Hope’s promise is that one day we will enter into the joy of our Father’s presence participating fully in all He has offered us because we are His adopted children. The heritage and legacy of being a child of God surpasses everything this life has to offer, so we eagerly await its completion.

“For in hope we have been saved, but hope that is seen is not hope; for who hopes for what he already sees? But if we hope for what we do not see, with perseverance we wait eagerly for it.”  Romans 8:24-25

Our adoption as children of God has come with a tremendous price; the sacrifice by God of His one and only Son. From this moment on, I will never be able to hear the word adoption without treasuring the one who made the sacrifice. It took enormous pain to make me a child of God.

Photo by Jodie

My son and his family waited in hope for the promise of a child and were not disappointed when he was born last Friday night. He was ushered into the world by a huge company of people who love him and have put his best interest before their own personal desires. We know the thanks we offer falls short of expressing how grateful we are for this precious gift, yet we offer them just the same.

May our grandson grow to be a man who loves God deeply, offers himself completely, and serves others freely.

Because his parents loved him, they gave…

Oh, how great a love!

 © Copyright, 2012 by Donna Tallman.

Contact: sogreatajourney@yahoo.com

 

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Heated debate continues to rage among historians as to the religious heritage of the men who drafted the Constitution of the United States.  Secular historians are adamant that most were Deists having no more religion than an occasional glance at a passive, disinterested supreme being.  This position infuriates Christians who are equally convinced that most of the signers were, instead, committed believers who intentionally established a constitution that was based upon principles found in the Bible. Just this week David Barton, a Christian historian, got into a debate with Jon Stewart about secular inaccuracies and bias against Thomas Jefferson’s faith.

As facts and proof-texts fly back and forth between the battling scholars, it becomes easy to lose the underlying issue which spawned the debate in the first place.  Some well-intentioned Christians assume that if they can prove the religious commitment of America’s founding fathers, secular Americans would be forced to accept Biblical standards for social order and moral conduct.  With that return to societal absolutes, America would, again, become the “Christian” nation it was at its birth.

Photo by Donna Tallman
sogreatajourney@yahoo.com

On their side, secular historians have overreacted and distorted the honorable legacy of America’s forefathers.

Would affixing the proper religious heritage to the writers of the constitution impel America’s citizens to modify their behavior?  The sad reality is, that even if God, Himself, scripted a perfect constitution for this nation, America would be no more “Christian” than it was at its founding.  Determining the persuasion of the authors of a document written over two hundred years ago will not correct the moral decay in America today.  Even if the entire nation was convinced that each of the founding fathers were godly men, America would not cease its current decline.

Bobby Mikul
publicdomainpictrures.net

John Winthrop ignited America’s passion for purpose when he proclaimed that America would become a “city set on a hill” to whom the world would look for liberty.  The early arrivers burned with the desire to mark out their own destiny, yet were well aware that their destiny depended upon unity with those around them.  Americans were unique.  They were many; yet they were one.  They were individualists, but together built one of the greatest nations the world has ever known.

America’s lust for freedom sadly gave rise to licentiousness.  In the name of freedom, America today suffers in fear.  Law-abiding citizens are held hostage by a judicial system which elevates criminals’ rights above those of their victims.  Car alarms, home security systems, and self-defense training classes are considered the norm for most citizens.  Morality based upon right and wrong is a preposterous notion in an “enlightened” culture such as ours which bases its morality upon personal comfort, convenience, and preference.  Instead of enjoying the fruits of liberty, many Americans are actually willing to surrender some of the freedoms for which their forefathers may have given their lives.

“Even so, Lord Jesus, come.”  With these words, the Bible closes the story of God’s great plan for mankind.  What began as an intimate relationship between God and man in the Garden of Eden, degenerated into death and separation by sin, now concludes in the book of Revelation with Jesus Christ physically ruling over those who accepted His provision of salvation.  Christians long for the day when Christ returns to set up His Kingdom.  They long to dwell forever with Him and leave the hate and violence of this world behind.

That the Bible proclaims it is God’s plan for Jesus to reign over this earth is clear.  When that takes place is a matter of some debate, as is the method by which His reign will be ushered in.  What is important, however, is that Christians desperately want Jesus to rule directly over His people.  This “theocracy” will be established only when Jesus Christ rules on the throne directly.  Even having a Bible-believing, true-blue, God-fearing Christian serving as President of the United States does not mean that America would be a theocracy, nor would the nation be any more “Christian.”

I believe that America is no longer a “Christian” nation because Christians have ceased behaving like Christians.  Personal holiness and obedience to God produces a compelling disciple.  Violence flourishes in America because godliness does not restrain it.  Evil runs rampant because goodness and justice turn a deaf ear.  Materialism captures many converts because humility is no longer considered a virtue.

In seeking to restore godly virtues to a secularized American society, I fear that Christians have lost sight of their original purpose.  Moses attempted to bring about God’s rule man’s way in Exodus 2:12 when he killed an Egyptian.  His method failed.  American Christians will fail, too, if they drift from their original purpose and attempt to bring about God’s rule man’s way.

The ideology of a government, constitution, or founding fathers does not make a nation “Christian.”  Theoretically, it is possible for an atheistic, Communist regime to preside over a “Christian” nation, if Christians lived as Christ commanded and a spiritual revival captured the hearts of their countrymen.

American Christians have often put their hope for change in the ballot box.  God’s method for producing change is repentance.  If America is to return to a place where godliness runs more rampant than licentiousness and violence, then we must return to live by the godly values we so ardently want others to live by.

© Copyright, 2009 by Donna Tallman.

Contact: sogreatajourney@yahoo.com

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Recently I preached a sermon entitled, “How Great A Love,” at our church. Shared on Mother’s Day, this message touches on one of the major passions of our family: open adoption, foster care, and finding your birth family decades following an adoption. We have been incredibly blessed by the gift of 3 adopted children in our family – and so grateful for the sacrifices that made them happen. Thank you to all of you who have encouraged my family through the years, lending your strength to us when we grew weary, cheering us on when we needed it most, and stepping in with practical help when we were overwhelmed. You are loved by us and we are so very grateful for your support through the years!

Donna.

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2020 has been a year for the books, and we all are anxious for this book to finally end. Before we wish 2020 into the recesses of our global history, I wanted to offer up some encouragement as to some of the good things that were happening while we were all contending with coronavirus.

I shared this message on Sunday, November 22, 2020. Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

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Our second son, Philip Tallman, led worship for Sunnyside Christian Church in Colorado Springs on Easter during the height of the coronavirus lockdown. The worship team did a beautiful job capturing the message and the hope we have as we walk through this dark season in our nation’s history. Philip’s rendition of “I Will Rise” is moving and powerful.

Please give it a listen and share with others.

…God is with us.

Steven Tallman Photography

Psalm 23. Just say the reference and my mind fills with instant images of a shepherd caring tenderly for his sheep. A favorite of soldiers, leaders, mariners, ministers, and those who grieve, Psalm 23 is the “go to” Psalm when people are desperate for comfort. Psalm 23 is also my “go to” passage when life seems more than I can bear. In Psalm 23, I find the comfort I need, but I also find something else; I find the hope I need to face whatever is overwhelming me at the moment.

 Coronavirus.

An unfamiliar word from a far-away land only ten weeks ago, Coronavirus rudely barged into our lives and made itself our unwanted visitor that won’t leave. It is now on every web page we see, every update on our phones, and in every conversation we have. Despite our attempts to rid our hearts and minds of its influence, Coronavirus even taunts some of us with its anxiety at night when trying to recharge for the next day.

 “Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil for You are with me.” Psalm 23:4

 Even though…

Even though: in spite of, come what may, regardless and nevertheless, these are all statements of faith in the face of severe trial. Whenever I use one of them, I am boldly declaring that I will stand in contradiction to the ominous storm rumbling on my horizon.

The doctor says I have coronavirus? In spite of that, fear will not consume me. My spouse has asked for a divorce? Come what may, I will contend for restoration. I lost my job and have used all of my savings? Regardless, I will continue to believe that God is my provider. A fire has taken my home and all my possessions? Nevertheless, I will rise from the ashes more convinced than ever that God will walk me through it.

“Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil for You are with me.”

 Even though!

How can we be as confident as David while we face the storm we are in now?

Steven Tallman Photography

In the midst of this global pandemic, we choose to walk through:

Remember it’s a “valley” not an “alley” – this is not a dead end. The trial we are all facing will not last forever, so hang in there. My mom reminded me yesterday that her world was turned upside every summer during the 1940s when polio reared its ugly head and slammed the nation with full force. As scientists raced to find a vaccine, 2,000 people a year died from polio’s devastation from the 1920’s until the 1950’s. Add to that, many of the men were deployed overseas because World War II was on. Fear and panic was just as real then as it is today, but God led them through. It is not God’s intention for us to quit, become stranded, or ensnared in this corona-valley. He wants us to thrive and grow as we proceed through, so let’s keep moving forward!

 In the midst of this global pandemic, we choose to endure:

In order to experience the exhilaration of the mountaintops of our lives, we have to endure the challenges of the climb. Every step we take, every obstacle we overcome, and every fear we conquer makes us stronger if we let it. It is our very struggle during the ascent that makes the summit all the more spectacular.

We are on a very steep climb at the moment with this coronavirus outbreak. We are facing a lot of unknowns, a lot of inconveniences, and many “unexpecteds,” so building endurance will be a priority. Honestly, I find great encouragement from people who have endured hard things. So, seek out some of those who have lived through things like the Great Depression, the polio epidemic, the Cold War, the Vietnam War, the riots and protests of the 1960’s, and the September 11^th attacks. These were hours of great fear in  our nation, and there are people right around us who survived them all. they can encourage and give us hope now. Find them and talk with them.

 In the midst of this global pandemic, choose to acknowledge death:

Death is always an option in this journey of life. Its shadow lurks in every nook and cranny of our lives. Death resides in the diagnosis, the unexpected termination, a sudden accident, and an abandoned dream. Nevertheless, Jesus did conquer death for us and his broken body has become our greatest hope.

Death is scary because it is unknown, but David confidently called out death when he said, “Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil for You are with me…” He acknowledged the presence of death in his valley, but David also put death in its proper context.

We think of David’s valley in Psalm 23 as dark and scary. A couple of years ago I realized something else. If there is a shadow anywhere, there has to be a light source. So, the “shadow” of death exists because there is a light source illuminating it. God is that light source. David was never alone with death in that valley because the very “shadow” that existed indicated the presence of God himself.

Photo by Donna Tallman

How do we know we’re not alone in the valley?

God sent Jesus to be the light that casts a shadow over death:  “In Him was life, and the life was the Light of men.” John 1:4

Jesus declared Himself to be that light:  “While I am in the world, I am the light of the world.” John 9:5

God has promised to always be with us:  “I will never desert you, nor will I ever forsake you.” Hebrews 13:5b

In the midst of this global pandemic, choose to walk with Jesus:

I believe walking intimately with God to be the only insurance plan capable of resourcing me through any and every trial a valley might present. God’s presence in my valley will provide the light I need to see and the confidence I need to keep traveling “through.”

Draw near to Him:  “Draw near to God and He will draw near to you.” James 4:8a

Recognize that God is anxious to resource your need:  “Therefore let us draw near with confidence to the throne of grace, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.” Hebrews 4:16

Even though. Even though the mountains may fall into the sea…

© Copyright, 2020 by Donna Tallman.

Contact: tallman_donna@yahoo.com

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Best Possible Outcomes from Worst Case Scenarios

Coronavirus.

A month ago, it was “their” problem. Even as recent as four days ago, coronavirus was fun entertainment on social media, but not anymore. Not now. In the past 24 hours, the infant, Coronavirus, exploded into a full-grown toddler pitching a hissy fit and stomping on everyone in its path. Maybe it was the cancellation of major sporting events, or the president’s restriction on travel, or maybe it was the revelation that Tom Hanks and Rita Wilson were diagnosed with coronavirus and are under quarantine in Australia, I don’t know. Whatever the reason, today things felt different. They felt very reminiscent of the days immediately following the September 11^th attacks when the world changed and none of us knew what tomorrow was going to look like.

Yesterday it was their problem, but today it is our opportunity.

Opportunity?

Coronavirus has given us the opportunity to face and conquer some of our greatest fears. It is a strategic intersection in the life of our nation, our city, and in the life of each one of us. Will we rise above the hysterical fear which surrounds us, or will we cave into that fear and be paralyzed by the constant bombardment of worst-case scenarios?

I am a worst-case scenario person; I am. I know it, and my friends know it too. In fact, for as long as I can remember, I have clung to fear as my “go to” emotion whenever something unexpected happens. Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve been fearful. The list of things I worried about is long; The Cuban Missile Crisis, Communism, rabid bats, Vietnam War protests, the Vietnam War itself, the Cold War, rattlesnakes, nuclear annihilation, World War III, and the Y2K Bug.

I’ve played out “worst-case scenarios” ever since I was young because I grew up in a military world where worst-case scenarios were actually our reality. I’ve lived through them all but, unfortunately, I have also panicked through most of them as well. Fear got such a stranglehold on me that it actually distorted my experience of the events around me. How did that happen? How did I let fear change my perspective? How does fear control each one of us?

As the drumbeat of coronavirus has grown louder and louder in recent days, I have wondered which road we will take at this intersection. Will we choose fear, or will we rise up in courage to be a catalyst for hope in this global crisis?

Living in a scary world and constantly dealing with fearful things growing up, created an inaccurate perceptual grid in my mind and in my heart. That grid was my gate-keeper, and it operated all the time, whether I knew it or not. Its purpose? To keep danger away from me. It sounds good, right? The problem? My perceptual grid of fear didn’t always accurately discern what was truly harmful to me. So, some of the time my grid caused me to draw irrational conclusions about what was presented.

How does that manifest itself in a situation like coronavirus? We have been fed nothing but worst-case scenarios for weeks and weeks on end. Thinking it’s better to prepare people for the worst, journalists and medical experts have turned up the volume on the most catastrophic possibilities we may face in this current crisis.

Will all of us experience the most catastrophic symptoms of coronavirus? No, we will not. So, why are we in a free-fall panic state?

People are panicking because they have allowed the worst-case scenario to become the sole experience they or others will endure. It’s not a healthy understanding of the facts. Actually, it’s not really rational either, but who wants to admit to being irrational? Forecasting only worst-case scenario outcomes is irrational because the worst-case scenario doesn’t happen to every person every time. It’s important to be prepared for coronavirus; it is wise and vital to prepare. Having said that, we should not expect that the worst will happen to every person we know or even to ourselves.

Worst-case scenario planning and worst-case scenario thinking are two totally different things. People who “plan” carry spare tires in their cars so they are ready “just in case” they have a flat tire; that’s rational. Having a flat tire is a real possibility in this world of rocks, screws, and other road scree. Fear-filled irrational thinking might buy a car and never drive it because it might get a flat. The difference between planning and thinking may seem subtle, but it is significant – especially when we’re talking about coronavirus.

Someone who is a worst-case scenario planner may have enough food, medicines, and supplies on hand for two weeks or so in case they are infected with coronavirus and are under quarantine. That’s rational; it’s appropriate. Worst-case scenario thinking might hoard those supplies, lie awake at night worrying about things that may never happen, or may experience physical symptoms of extreme anxiety (heart palpitations, shortness of breath, panic attacks, insomnia, etc.)

We all have grids. I don’t know what your grid is surrounding the coronavirus outbreak, but I do know that an inaccurate grid can incarcerate us in a prison of fear like it did me. It’s imperative that we construct a response to this outbreak that is based on truth, rather than on the emotional hype running amok in our country. So, it’s really important that we stop in the midst of this swirling chaos and ask the question my husband often asks me when I’ve gotten tied up in anxious knots, “What do we know?”

Not, “What do we feel?” but, “What do we know is true in this situation?” Finding the truth, the complete truth, will open the door to greater peace – Which we all could use about now.

© Copyright, 2020 by Donna A. Tallman.

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Perilous Times

We heard the end of a man’s life today. We didn’t know that’s what we heard, but we did; the roar of guns said so. No one anticipated this outcome earlier in the afternoon when an angry young man destroyed his grandmother’s apartment. Even later, as people came to the front of our church with injuries and car damage, no one anticipated that this young man would enter eternity today ending an afternoon of terror for the community and a lifetime of troubled rage for him.

I work at the church next door to the apartment complex where the man lived. During Sunday school this morning, our teacher taught from 2 Timothy 3:1, “But know this, that in the last days perilous times will come.” Perilous. Unsafe. Fierce. Terrifying. We had no idea that this morning as we sat just yards from the young man’s window, how perilous our day would actually become.

Church was finished and I was sorting and cleaning the clutter left over from a morning of meaningful ministry. As I settled in to listen to the Broncos play this afternoon, an army veteran’s truck was suddenly shot by a pellet gun from the apartment complex next door. He screeched his truck to a stop in front of our church. Bolting from his car to confront the catastrophe in progress, the veteran ran by my office. Not knowing exactly what was unfolding outside, I ran down the hall to tell my husband, a retired police officer, that he needed to get outside to help. Within minutes, police and first responders began arriving to shepherd people to safety.

A young girl of eight entered our church lobby with her mother and siblings. They were on their way for a family afternoon at Monument Lake, but would never make it. Their car had been hit with a pellet, breaking the back window and hitting the young girl in the shoulder. One of our teens who was at the church this afternoon, stepped in to pray for the girl and her family immediately following the shooting while they still reeled from the shock of it all. In that moment, it was hard for any of us to comprehend what we were looking at or really dealing with.

“This is Monument, Colorado,” I thought to myself. “This doesn’t happen here!”

But it is Monument, and it did happen here.

As more and more police officers and emergency personnel arrived on the scene, a small cadre of victims, bystanders, and other displaced neighbors wandered in and out of the church lobby during the next few hours. The first responders were amazing! They did all they could to protect us, inform us, and meet what needs they could in spite of the very active violent scene they were managing. We all became instant foxhole friends determined to get each other through the perilous and unknown of this afternoon.

When two officers carrying assault rifles walked by the church, we suddenly realized the crisis next door was escalating to life-threatening proportions. A sheriff’s officer directed us to take refuge in the basement, which we did. What has always bothered me about the church’s basement (that it has no windows) suddenly became an asset. We gathered downstairs to await the “all clear” from the officers.

Had everyone made it downstairs? Was there anyone else in the lobby that didn’t know where to go? I ran upstairs to be sure no one else was left. Everything looked secure as I raced through the main floor. On my way to the upper floor, a roar from outside the building filled the empty spaces of my anxiety.

The unmistakable roar of finality.

I heard the end of a man’s life today as I stood in the stairwell. My heart stopped. Time stopped. In the chaos and confusion of this afternoon, suspended between the temporary and the eternal, John 3:16 wafted through my spirit. I began to pray for this man, his family, the victims downstairs, our neighbors, the police teams outside, and our entire community of Monument.

“For God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish, but have eternal life.” John 3:16

Yes, these are perilous times; dangerous times, but even in the midst of these times, we have hope. God has pointed the way through the unsafe, the fierce, and the terrifying. He’s pointed us to His Son who gave His life for us so that when we cross into eternity, we can step into the arms of the Father who sacrificed everything because He loves us.

None of us knows when we could be confronted with our last day on earth. Never has that been more evident as when I looked into the precious face of the eight-year-old girl who had been shot. Despite her minor injury, her day could have ended so differently.

As a Christian, my hope and joy is that I never face difficult times alone. Jesus promised to never leave me nor forsake me, and today, in a sleepy little mountain town, during an especially perilous time, He proved His faithfulness once again.

Copyright, 2019 by Donna A. Tallman

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He wasn’t supposed to die.

Not that way.

Not that day.

But he did.

My father died and still, it hardly seems possible that he’s gone.

But he is.

He went to the hospital just needing a blood transfusion. Well not just, but it wasn’t supposed to careen out of control into a life-threatening situation. My father was being treated for severe anemia, and the doctor assured us he would feel much better after getting two units of blood. They scheduled it for the next day, which was Sunday. Since it would take most of the day to receive the new blood, I dropped my mom and dad at the hospital and then went on to church for the morning service.

I brought them home around five that evening, but Dad didn’t seem right. He was agitated and uncomfortable. He said things that didn’t make sense and complained of being cold. He shivered even after we turned the heat way up and covered him with a pile of blankets. While I got him into bed to keep him warm, Mom called the hospital just to be sure this was normal after a blood transfusion. It wasn’t. She hung up and dialed 911 immediately.

The paramedics were inside the house within four minutes ~ one of the advantages of living down the street from a firehouse. Like the most bizarre of Picasso portraits, I can only recall the ensuing 24 hours in mangled distorted images. There are pieces of identifiable reality here and there, but mostly there are fragments I stare at without fully comprehending.

Blue and red emergency lights dancing in the hallway through the sheer drapes, a “Heaven Can Wait” DVD I gave to Dad just days earlier sitting by the TV. The click of a gurney, My brother, Randy, helping me make sure we hadn’t left anything turned on in the house, Mom hurrying to get in the ambulance. Dad cracking hilarious jokes in ER, his heart monitor displaying 163, texting updates to Bob and the boys, the doctor saying, “Pneumonia.”

Pneumonia? We can do pneumonia. Pneumonia’s totally treatable. What a relief!

After two or three hours of IV medication in the ER, Dad was placed in ICU and getting better by the minute. Randy went home around midnight, but Mom and I hung around until the nurse dismissed us to go home and get some sleep. Crisis averted.

By 1:30am Mom and I had settled in for some desperately needed sleep. Two hours later we were summoned back to the hospital by one of those early morning phone calls that rattles your nerves and shakes your soul. My mind darted off in every direction at once as I fought to stay focused while driving down the freeway.

More fragments of distortion.

Fragmented

A full moon over the hospital, a clock in the lobby reading 5:40am, and a Christmas cross hiding in the reflection of the cafeteria window at daybreak. “Do you have an advanced directive?” “Fight for him,” my mother saying emphatically. A nurse starting to resist got a second, “Fight for him,” from me. Dad’s heart still racing at 172, organizing the tea bag drawer in the waiting room, doctor consults, my sister, Sandi, and brother-in-law arriving, feet running through the ICU corridor when Dad’s heart stopped, updates every 10 minutes as they worked on him, texting my family. Saying goodbye.

Only Mom, Sandi, Randy, and I were in the room with Dad when he died (and a hospital chaplain). Each of us got to say goodbye and then we stood. We waited. We watched. Mom watched Dad; Sandi watched me, Randy and I watched the monitor.

80…65…45…30…

Quiet descended.

Slipping out of Dad’s room, I returned to the empty ICU waiting room. I wanted to pause; I needed to pause, and I just wanted to be. A doctor I had not seen before came into the waiting area and sat up on the back of the couch. His scrubs were soaked with sweat and he looked as drained of life as Dad had been when I left his room. I sensed he was angry.

“You worked on my dad?” I asked quietly.

He nodded.

“Thank you,” I said, stopping short of what I really wanted to say. Advanced directives limiting medical intervention on the elderly is a pretty standard practice anymore, but not in my family; we’re fighters. Until we’ve exhausted all physical intervention and prayer intervention, we will always contend for life.

The doctor looked at me through his exhaustion and began to speak.

Stepping out of character, I cut him off.

“Please know that my family is so very grateful for all you and your team tried to do for my father.” I paused to bury my timidity, gather my strength, and speak directly to his anger.

“I can see it was difficult, but it’s important that you know why we asked it of you. You might not be aware of it, but you tried to save a hero today. You did. My father was a hero. You see he served his country during both Korea and Vietnam. He was honorable and noble. My father protected this country and defended our freedom, which allowed you to pursue the life you are living and enter the field of medicine that you love. For twenty-one years my father sacrificed for you, so thank you, Sir, for sacrificing for him today. It means more to us than you can ever know.”

Anger melted away as the doctor cried.

Last Ride

Losing my father last year was a life-altering moment as it is for many people. It is important you know that despite the shock of losing him unexpectedly, we were held. We were held by the unshakable power of God like never before. We were not suspended in time, confusion, or anxiety, but we were really held by the sovereign power of a loving God. So much so that we heard ourselves saying, this was one of the best moments we have ever lived.

How can that be? How can it be that the day we said goodbye to the man who has always believed in us, supported us, defended us, and fought for us was one of the best days we’ve ever lived? Because we stood in the middle of grief’s fire and experienced the tangible sense of the joy of the Lord. Dad was our family’s greatest warrior. When we grew tired or our faith grew weary, His faith held ours intact. As a family unit we walked through one of the most difficult days of our lives deeply blessed.

Escorting a Hero

My father was buried with full military honors befitting the finest of Air Force officers and heroes, despite the fact he would have objected to our plans. Actually, he wouldn’t have allowed them. Several times during his Air Force career he was dispatched to other military families to bring them the news that their loved one was killed in battle. These were the sacrifices my father understood, these were the heroes he compared himself to.

He never even considered his own sacrifices deserving of notice, but we did. We experienced the cost of his service and understood the danger of his duty. My father absolutely did not believe himself worthy of receiving any military honors at his burial and plainly told us so many times.

We ignored him. We had to; he is a hero to us.

Thank You

It’s been almost a year since my father passed away and we’ve made it through almost all of the “firsts” without him. I think it fitting that Veteran’s Day will draw our year of grief near its end and the last holiday we will celebrate for the first time without Dad will be Thanksgiving. My family is, indeed, thankful for all Dad was and all he gave to us. His was a life well lived and ours was a life most blessed because of it.

© Copyright, 2015 by Donna Tallman.

Contact: sogreatajourney@yahoo.com

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Photo by Donna Tallman

         

         

          Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall.

          Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.

          All the king’s horses and all the king’s men

          Couldn’t put Humpty together again…

 

 

 

“Innocents Blown Out of the Sky Over Ukraine”

“Tunnels of Terror Threaten Gaza and Israel”

“Ebola Outbreak Kills 1,000 in West Africa”

“ISIS Terrorizes Iraq and Syria”

“State of Emergency Declared in Ferguson, Missouri”

“Robin Williams’ Death Stuns a Nation”

News headlines during July and August 2014, have showcased some of the worst evil mankind can perpetrate against itself. As if the violence wasn’t enough, these shattering headlines have also included the incredibly sad result of the most despairing of human emotions ~ depression leading to suicide. I can’t remember a news cycle filled with as much violence, tragedy, and sadness as the past few weeks.

These daily briefings of the world’s woes have rendered my soul and my spirit totally exhausted. I’d love to opt out of the world’s despair, but I can’t. As much as I have wanted to look away from the anguish, my soul connects deeply with the profound suffering humanity is enduring and my spirit cries out in agonizing prayer for people I have never met.

Violence, murder, revenge, and rape. The drumbeat grows ever louder.

Who will help us? Who will put Humpty together again once he has fallen?

Photo by Donna Tallman

All the king’s horses and all the king’s men couldn’t put Humpty together again, so even poor Humpty was destroyed by his fall. Humpty had access to all the king’s resources and still it wasn’t enough to repair all the damage done. Humpty was still fallen. He was still shattered, and he was still broken.

We have all fallen off that wall. We are all shattered. We are all broken…

…But God.

“But God demonstrates His own love toward us in that while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.” Romans 5:8

“My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.” Psalm 73:26

We are a broken people shattered by broken people, but because of God, we are also a broken people restored and redeemed by a broken person:  “And when Jesus had given thanks, He broke it and said, Take, eat. This is My body, which is broken for you. Do this to call Me to remembrance.” (AMP) 1 Corinthians 11:24

Jesus’ willingness to be broken for me has restored and redeemed the profound brokenness that fragmented my own life. I’ve seen him do that in me. I’ve seen him do that in others. I’ve seen him do that in some of you.

One day the despairing headlines will cease. Atrocities will stop. We won’t march armies at one another, or incite terror in the hearts of one another any more. Our children will play freely unhindered by evil, and our women will walk the streets without fear. The darkness of depression will be dissolved by a brilliant sunrise of hope and healing. One day this will all be over and peace will reign.

“Behold, the tabernacle of God is among men, and He will dwell among them, and they shall be His people, and God Himself will be among them, and He will wipe away every tear from their eyes; and there will no longer be any death; there will no longer be any mourning, or crying, or pain; the first things have passed away.” Revelation 21:3-4

But that day is not this day.

On this day I hear weeping; I hear crying. I sense the sorrow and despair of a world without hope. Our world is spiraling out of control. Lawlessness feeds violence, violence begets terror, and terror produces tyranny.

This is our world. This is our reality. This is our sorrow.

Photo by Donna Tallman

So, on this day, while I await that day, I will not quit. I will not opt out of the world’s pain. I will fight instead. I will fight on my knees for restoration. I will fight on my knees for redemption and peace. I will contend for unity. I will guard the oppressed. I will champion justice. I will help the orphan and remember the widow. I will touch the sick and believe in resurrection.

I will not lose hope.

Instead, I will believe that he who is faithful and true has called me to this, and I will believe he will bring it to pass. I cannot afford to lose hope. We cannot afford to lose hope. The world awaits rescue.

The world awaits you.

Only restored people can restore people.

“Let us not lose heart in doing good, for in due time we will reap if we do not grow weary.” Galatians 6:9

© Copyright, 2014 by Donna Tallman.

Contact: sogreatajourney@yahoo.com

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“Momma said there’d be days like this, there’d be days like this my momma said.”

Momma said.

Photo by Donna Tallman

Yesterday Bob and I drove hundreds of miles through farmland and cattle country as we made yet another trek across this beautiful country. (I think this is our third trip in the last year and a half) We are on our way to North Carolina at the moment, but that’s a subject for a different blog entry.

Having only eight hours on our driving schedule yesterday, we flew by city after city all the while serenaded by Glen Campbell, Alan Jackson, and John Denver on some country Oldies station out of Newton, Iowa.

There’s something so great about tuning into local radio stations driving cross-country ~ they give us an instant connection to the people of the area. Local stations also give us any emergency weather updates should we ever need them.

Well, they are supposed to anyway…

Photo by Steven Tallman

Yesterday we (unknowingly) got caught in the backwash of a tornado that touched down causing considerable damage but no injuries. Bob was driving and I was bopping along to “Amarillo By Morning,” when all of the sudden we entered a deluge of pounding rain. Midwest rain is not at all like Oregon rain; it’s ferocious. The rain falls in huge drops pummeling everything in its path, like a T-Rex stomping through a cornfield.

Being a closet weather geek, I absolutely love to study storms and meteorology patterns. Tornado Week on “The Weather Channel” is one of my favorite weeks of the year. Yesterday I learned that it’s one thing to watch a dangerous tornado on TV, but an altogether different experience to drive through one.

It unraveled me.

About the time we made it to the middle of the storm cell, the radio started blaring emergency weather advisory upates. “Tornado on the ground, seek immediate shelter! Tornado on the ground…” the official bulletin exclaimed.

Too late for us, we were already being hammered by the howl and I was about to enter panic mode. Do you stop and try to get out, or do you keep driving hoping it’s not in front of you? I texted my sister to pray and my sons to see if they could go online to tell us where the storm was headed. After a barrage of texts back and forth, Philip let us know the tornado was going north. Thankfully we were going east.

Photo by Donna Tallman

For the next few minutes Bob and I rehashed the crisis/excitement we’d just been through when all of a sudden a semi truck on my side of the car blew one of its rear tires at 70 miles per hour. We thought something had hit the car. Bob swerved and I screamed. Not helpful. When we realized the semi had blown a tire, we followed him to a stopping place to check our own car. The car was fine. I was not. The concussion of the explosion altered the cabin pressure in our car and my ears throbbed for the next two hours.

By the time we stopped for the night, my nerves were shot. All I wanted to do was go out to dinner and eat away the danger of the day. Not only was I rattled ~ I was starving. Danger does that to me! Back in the car. As we drove to the main road, the sky opened up again and dumped sheets of rain faster than the city drains could carry them away. Instant flood.

Somebody was trying to kill us and I’d had enough.

“Momma said there’d be days like this.”

Somewhere between hopping out of the car and puddle-jumping my way into the restaurant, I heard the Lord say, “For He will give His angels charge concerning you, to guard you in all your ways. They will bear you up in their hands, that you do not strike your foot against a stone.” Psalm 91:11-12

Photo by Donna Tallman

I was four years old the first time I ever heard those verses. My mom quoted them to me while removing a hunk of tree branch that had flown up under my eyelid. I could have lost my eyesight.

Yeah, Momma said there’d be days like this, but despite any difficulties life might send our way, my own momma reminded me so many years ago that, as long as I walked with Jesus, I’d never face any of them alone.

Good thing.

© Copyright, 2014 by Donna Tallman.

Contact: sogreatajourney@yahoo.com

 

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“Behold, You desire truth in the innermost being, and in the hidden part You will make me know wisdom.” Psalm 51:6

Photo by Donna Tallman

I don’t need any help.
I’m not angry; I’m justifiably indignant.
I’m not worried; I’m concerned.
That _________ (person, food, drink, drug, etc.) doesn’t tempt me at all.
I’m not depressed, just tired.
I’m fine…fine.
I didn’t do it!

I don’t know about you, but sometimes I have trouble telling myself the truth. Snagged by my conscience or arrested by the Spirit of God, I dodge, twist, and turn to avoid the spotlight of God’s detection. King David was more honorable than that. Confronted by Nathan the prophet for his adulterous affair with Bathsheba, David immediately agreed with God that he was in the wrong and repented. Then David invited God in to purify his heart and clean up the mess he’d made of his life. I’m not always so eager. 

Photo by Donna Tallman

Psalm 51 is the tangible record of God’s redemptive inner work in a heart gone astray. It is a highly significant passage of the Bible to me. It ranks up there with Isaiah 55, John 14, and the entire book of Philippians as the most well traveled of sections in my Bible. I’ve underlined several verses, scratched notes around the margins, and written several dates when God intersected me there. While others might see only the mess I’ve made of Psalm 51 in my Bible, I see a written record of the many times I’ve been desperate for its encouragement.

Hollywood has made a fortune over the years making films about characters that go back in time to redo their lives and reverse the decisions they made. I have to admit that many of my favorite films fall into this genre. Psalm 51 is the Psalm of the “do over.” This Psalm is about returning; it’s about restoration and redemption. David has given us an example of true humility playing out in real time, and he’s also given us the privilege of journeying with him through his darkest hours.

Re-turn. Re-store. Re-deem.

Redux. I want a rewrite. Actually, I’d rather have an “unwrite” of the horrible decisions I’ve made throughout my life and the things that have caused me pain. I’d also love to unwrite the things in your life that have hurt you too, but that’s not how God works. God doesn’t erase; he doesn’t remove. Instead, God redeems. He takes what is and transforms it. God takes the marred and damaged parts of us and reforms us into new creations. Our flaws become the foundation for his ultimate masterpiece. In our darkest hours, God does his deepest and most spectacular work!

Donna Tallman

“Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come.” 2 Corinthians 5:17 (ESV)

How does God re-create us in real time? He does it by connecting with our innermost beings. When we are transparent with God and permit him access to the innermost place of our hearts, he will enter and begin his work in our lives.

In order for God to connect with my innermost being he needs:

~ My fully cooperative mind
~ My surrendered will
~ My wide open heart (emotions)
~ My sincere and humble spirit

Donna Tallman

Father, thank you for calling me into relationship with you. Thank you for pursuing me in the morning and walking alongside me in the cool of the day. Thank you for persisting even when I try to elude you. Jesus, I need courage today. I need the courage to be honest with you about my life. Help me not to cower in fear or shame when your truth shines on my shortcomings. Your truth is my protection; teach me to love it and welcome it into the innermost place of my heart.

© Copyright, 2014 by Donna Tallman.

Contact: sogreatajourney@yahoo.com