FORGIVENESS

for·give·ness (fr-gvns, fôr-)  the cessation of resentment, indignation or anger as a result of an offense, disagreement, or mistake

There's that question again. Different phrasing, but the same meaning.  "Glenda, how are you able to 'avoid anger', 'let things slide', 'turn the other cheek', 'forgive and forget'?". In regards to the latter, the lofty age of sixty makes it more a matter of forget and forget! With God's help, I strive to be a forgiving person, but the journey to this place wasn't easy. Granted, even as a child I was sensitive to the feelings of others. If my brothers were going to get spanked for some boyish prank, I would cry and beg to take their punishment. My heart hurt when others hurt. What a sweet child!

So how did that sweet child evolve into a young woman who chose to abort her unborn child to hide her sin and shame? The Enemy led me down a dark path, entwining my sweet sensitivity with a deep-seated need to please and keep others from pain and disappointment. Having sex for the first time as a naïve, college freshman, I didn't even think about the possibility of pregnancy. Sounds like a crazy claim in 2013, but in 1971 I was just a sheltered girl on her own for the first time. The wild 1960's had simply passed me by. I had invited Jesus into my heart at 16 and was attending a Christian college, but the concept of a "personal" relationship with Jesus Christ was foreign to me. I had no plan for my life . . . no goals or expectations. As they say, "If you don't stand for something, you'll fall for anything".

Don't get me wrong. I was having fun! I had a handsome boyfriend and I liked sex. I enjoyed college and celebrated my 19th birthday by drinking my first beer in Jellico, Tennessee. Life was good. Then, two months into my sophomore year, I suspected I might be pregnant. Suddenly, I was very religious, praying constantly that my period would come flooding back. It didn't. Amazingly, my desperation to hide my pregnancy was so strong, that I never really considered telling Mom & Dad. My boyfriend and I gathered enough money to send me alone to New York City, the only place in the country to get a legal abortion. It was a horrific experience . . . first airplane flight, first taxi ride, first visit to a teeming metropolis, first medical procedure, first cold and unfriendly abortion clinic, hemorrhaging,  fears and tears. Thankfully, it was finally over and nobody would ever know. 

Except me. Guilt led me to embrace promiscuity, alcohol and drugs, I finally settled into a lovely life that looked extraordinary to onlookers - marriage, successful career, wonderful children, beautiful homes, prestigious cars. So why did two marriages end in divorce? Why was I plagued with thoughts of suicide? Why was I terrified during two pregnancies that a vengeful, "sledgehammer" God would seek retribution for what I had done?

A STAR IS BORN

I recently flew to Los Angeles, California to lend a hand to my friend Andrea. She started a business called Care on Call Los Angeles, which provides child care, elder care, postpartum doula, pet sitting and house sitting services. Her home is 10 steps from the ocean and as I sit at my computer I see palm trees when I look in all four directions.  It’s a tough life, but somebody has to live it!

On Wednesday, July 19th, Andrea and I were watching Suits, my favorite television show.  Suddenly, my face flashed up on the screen! There I was, the Suits USA Network Character of the Week!  I didn’t receive any notice that this was going to happen. I barely remember visiting their site and penning my thoughts about the show, but I found the email dated June 23rd. Andrea and I were high-fiving, rewinding and playing it over and over again. It’s no small thing to see your face on national television. Then I go to their website and see it there, too. It was VERY exciting. My brother and niece in Houston saw it, and Rachel even put the news about old Aunt Glenda on her Facebook page. I certainly enjoying my 15 minutes of fame.

THE STORM BEFORE THE CALM

In an effort to recover from an extremely hectic week, I decided to go into work late on Friday, March 12, 2004. After a vigorous workout at Bally's, I stepped into the last shower stall on the right at 11:30 a.m. God often speaks to me there, probably because it's the only place He finds me quiet and alone. While showering, the thought, "The storm before the calm" popped into my head. I muttered to myself, "Isn't the saying the calm before the storm?” I actually looked to the ceiling and spoke silently to God. "Is that you? What's that supposed to mean? Are You writing a chapter in my book?” I would soon experience the answer to my questions. I put it out of my mind and headed to work.

Ashley, my 20-year-old daughter, was scheduled to leave Liberty University in Lynchburg, Virginia to head home to Cincinnati, Ohio for Spring break. I anticipated her arrival around midnight. Rachel, a fellow student and friend from our home church, Landmark Cincinnati, was catching a ride with her. Unbeknownst to me, Ashley decided to skip a class and come home earlier in the day to surprise me at my office. 

I was certainly surprised when I received a call from a Lewis County, Kentucky policeman around 4:30. He asked if I had a daughter named Ashley. When I replied “Yes”, he proceeded to tell me that she had been involved in an accident on the AA Highway at mile marker #3. Then he paused to yell at someone or into something, "Is the highway open yet? Is the highway open yet!?!” I was instantly sick with panic. It had to be bad. All he could tell me was that one girl had been airlifted and he didn't know anything about the other one. If the accident was bad enough to close the highway and only one passenger was airlifted, I assumed that the other was dead.

I rushed to my car and headed towards the accident scene. A mere mile into my 3-hour journey, I found myself caught up in a snarled traffic jam. I pulled to the side of the highway to search my computer for an alternate route. Facing the loss of my baby girl alone, I was frantically sobbing and terrified to the depth of my soul. Yet in those few moments by the side of the road, I managed to give it all to God. I was reminded of the complete peace God gave me the year before when the doctor told me that my father was gone. I was comforted to know that Dad’s death was not a cosmic blip or heavenly mix-up, but his divinely-planned appointment with his beloved Jesus. I trusted God completely. I praised Him. I didn't try to make a deal. I simply told Him that no matter what the outcome, I would love and trust Him. Even though I knew my daughter might be gone, I found incredible peace and comfort, knowing that His will for my life and Ashley's life was PERFECT. He wasn't looking the other way or out to lunch. I resumed my trip, gripping the steering wheel and chanting, "I trust you, God" over and over and over again.

The moment I left my office, coworkers had started calling hospitals and police stations to locate my daughter and discover her condition. They called me an hour into my journey, moments before I lost cell service, informing me that Ashley was not the one air-lifted. She was very much alive! What a guilty relief that was, for I loved Rachel and her family. I arrived at the Southern Ohio Medical Center in Portsmouth, Ohio, across the Ohio River from Lewis County, Kentucky at 7:30 p.m. My son Cory, who lived in Columbus, Ohio, arrived ahead of me and was by his sister's side in the emergency room. Ashley was sitting up in bed sharing her testimony with anyone who would listen.

The police said the accident was caused by wind shear. The wind pushed her Jeep toward the center line where a semi was hugging the same line. She veered away from the truck at the very moment she passed a hill that stopped the wind gust, which drove her to the edge of the road. Overcompensating, she jerked the wheel back, which sent her into a roll at 65 miles-per-hour. The car rolled 6-8 times on the highway where her passenger was thrown from the car. Then the Jeep mounted the guardrail where it slid 45-feet before flipping end-over-end down a 280-foot embankment with a 75-foot vertical drop. Ashley was conscious through most of it. The hood snapped back and crushed the windshield, the passenger side of the vehicle was destroyed, the back wheels ripped off, the back seat was ejected, the roof was gone, and the roll bar was bent. That blessed roll bar, though damaged, still provided some protection.

On the highway above, traffic stopped suddenly because Rachel was lying in the middle of the road amidst the wreckage debris. Travelers were mystified as to how she got there, because there were no vehicles in sight. Due to limited cell phone reception, one motorist had to drive to find help. Ten minutes later, someone heard Ashley yelling Rachel's name from the bottom of the ravine. Ashley would later recount that her memory of that moment was “walking through a field of colorful flowers, moving aside beautiful blossoms with her hands as she searched and called Rachel’s name”. On that cold, March day, all that could be seen in the ravine were brown weeds and leafless trees.

The concerned people who scrambled down the hill must have thought the trapped girl, covered in blood, bleeding profusely from her head and nose, was near death. The trauma to her head was so severe that she feared it would crack open if she didn't hold it together. Ashley thought she might be dying, but God gave her incredible peace and focus through it all. Praise and scriptures she didn't even know poured from her. The words below, from Matt Redmond's, "Blessed Be the Name of the Lord", played in her head:

On the road marked with suffering,

When the darkness closes in,

Lord, still I will say, "Blessed be the name of the Lord".

You give and take away. You give and take away.

My heart will choose to say, "Blessed be Your Glorious name."

Ashley, looking into the faces of the people around her, could see that they thought she might not make it. Yet she knew that if they didn't know Jesus, they were the ones who were actually dying. Her death would be only the beginning of her eternal life with Christ. Ashley asked everyone if they knew Jesus. If they did, she asked them to pray for her. If they didn’t, she told them about Him. After the emergency vehicles arrived, it took 45 minutes to cut her out of the car. She continued to share Jesus with the EMT's and the doctors and nurses at the hospital. One cynical doctor asked her why God would let this happen to a Christian. She shared the glory of her faith with him. Ashley was bruised, sore and had a gash in the back of her head that required ten staples. While suffering the stapling, she prayed through the pain, "This is only my body…this is only my body. They cannot touch my spirit."


At midnight, a mere 8 hours after the accident, I gratefully and miraculously left the hospital for home with my lovely daughter by my side. On Sunday morning, 36 hours after she tumbled down that hillside, Ashley gave her tearful and moving testimony to a thousand people at Landmark Cincinnati. That same day, I went through the huge trash bag retrieved from her Jeep. I found a card Ashley wrote to thank me for being her mom. I was grateful to be reading it with my arms around her. I also found mud-spattered pieces of her car, three Bibles, brake pads, two crosses, a twisted license plate that said ASHLEE3, Christian CD's, crushed personal items, and shredded, blood-spattered clothing. What a testimony those volunteers must have experienced as they scoured that Kentucky hillside. The police told me that this single-car accident caused four thousand cars to be backed up on the AA Highway. One of the people caught in that traffic jam was a college friend of Ashley's who unknowingly sat there praying for the "people" in the accident up ahead.


You must be wondering what happened to Rachel, who was thrown onto the highway when her seatbelt broke. She was airlifted to Huntington, West Virginia. She suffered road abrasion, brain bruising, temporary short-term memory loss, a broken thumb and two broken toes. She was home in two days. Rachel had surgery on her thumb to insert a pin and healed beautifully, or should I say miraculously! She finished the spring semester online, and returned to Liberty in the fall.

Ashley returned to Liberty University one week after the accident. In the years that followed, she graduated college and served the Lord in China, Ecuador, Mexico and Peru. In 2011 she married Brent and they have three beautiful children, with number four due July 10, 2020. With every step she takes, she walks on hallowed ground. Ashley and I experienced the storm before the calm that day. Ashley faced her own death and I faced losing my beloved daughter. Thankfully, we also experienced the extreme peace only God can provide. What do we have to fear, for God is with us.

Don't be afraid, for I am with you. Don't be discouraged, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you. I hold you up with my victorious right hand.     ~ Isaiah 41:10

WHEN THE EXPERTS HAVE SPOKEN

The Dong family, missionaries to China, would be home in a week. With the help of newlyweds Cory & Brandi, my brother Greg, and friends, Barbara & Dennis, we had their house, my temporary home, in “move that bus” order for their homecoming. This 5-week visit would be their last for almost 2 years. 

In the midst of all this work, and in the middle of the worst heat wave in Cincinnati history, the air conditioner went out. Temperatures were over 100 degrees with 50% humidity for more than 8 days. The air conditioner first started tripping the circuit breaker every few hours, then every 5 minutes, before shutting down completely. I really wanted to get the air conditioner fixed before the Dong’s got home, but I was also being selfish.  HOT is cool when it comes to coffee, soup or that guy at the gym, but I was going crazy!

I first called Hauser HVAC. They told me it needed a recharge of the coolant R20. Sounds simple, right? Au contraire. Because of a new law, a unit may only be recharged once due to damage to the o-zone. Hauser knew they had recharged this unit in 2010, so the entire unit would have to be replaced to the tune of $5,318-$7,174. The bill: $89

I decided to get a second opinion, but  I had to wait 6 scalding days before the appointment. Two hours before his arrival, he canceled because he had heat stroke!  How appropriate. With the house at 106 degrees, I knew it wouldn't be long before I suffered the same fate. I desperately called six HVAC companies trying to get a last minute Saturday appointment. I figured they didn't know about the past R20 recharge (because I ripped the tag off the air handler!) and would do it as a temporary fix. Yes, I was desperate enough to break the law! The first five companies had nothing available for another week, but Service Experts said they would come between 6 and 8 that night. Yeah!

SURPRISE!

I had the pleasure of turning 60 on May 16th. I think the worst part of this milestone was receiving an envelope from the Ohio Department of Aging a month before the big day. Who even knew there was such a department?! I'd like to know the average age in that department and what they do all day.  Enclosed was my official Ohio Buckeye card. I mentioned receiving the Golden Buckeye to a young man in his 20's at work. A co-worker informed me later that he thought it was a peanut butter candy with the chocolate on the inside instead of the outside! When I told him that it meant I was a card-carrying 60-year-old, he walked around stamping his feet saying, "NO WAY! NO WAY! You are NOT 60!" His previous stupidity aside, Julian is now my favorite person at Lowe's. I bought him a drink to celebrate (16.9 oz. bottled water).

Did I mention that I look incredible (for a 60-year-old)? The past few years haven't been gracious. . . weight gain, loss of my business, financial ruin, unemployment, employment . . . to name a few, but I did manage to lose 15 pounds before my big day and thanks to a generous pre-birthday gift from my big brother Gary and his wife Kalleen (Houston, TX), I had a shopping spree at Chico's earlier in the week. Gary is 61 1/2, so I think it was more of a sympathy gift than a celebration. Either way, I was grateful!  I started off my big day getting a free haircut at Salon Rapport in Loveland. I recently gave my testimony at a girls' sex-education event at Goshen High School and the haircut was generously donated by the owner. Loved Julie, the haircut and the salon. I was ready for my big night, dinner with Ashley, Brent, Cory & Brandi.

Ashley and Brent insisted on picking me up. On the way to dinner, Ashley pulled into a UDF and asked me read a card that started tears flowing and makeup running. Great! Oddly enough, she didn't even go in. I didn't realize till later that it was a stalling tactic. Then she had me close my eyes. When I opened them, I had a copy of a beautiful surprise birthday invitation and found myself at the clubhouse in her Dad's complex! SURPRISE!  A surprise party! For ME! I know everyone assumes I should have had an inkling, but I was TRULY surprised. Perhaps it was losing touch with so many friends over these past few difficult years that made it hard to believe I was worthy of a party. But worthy or not, it was wonderful!

B-L-O-G?

Welcome to my ALL 4 Him blog. As a person who is fascinated by the boundless abilities the computer has added to my life since the 80's, I'm embarrassed to say that I didn't even understand what a blog was. I've heard about them for decades, but outside of watching the movie Julie & Julia, they just weren’t part of my life. Truthfully, my passion for the written word is affronted by the very word B-L-O-G. It sounds similar to unseemly words like B-L-O-B, but it's origin is actually "web log".

I became interested in blogging when my friend Kit emailed me the blog of an amazing lady named Tamara. I had the pleasure of meeting Tamara at an October retreat at Kit’s lake house. When I pulled up the blog address, I actually had to check to see if it was the same Tamara I met that weekend. Her blog was so professional and interesting. Did I personally know a REAL blogger? I felt like I was rubbing elbows with the rich and famous. If there was a red carpet of blogging, I wanted to be on it! With Tamara, of course. I certainly don’t want to forget the little people who made my meteoric rise to the top of the blogging heap possible. I’d like to thank the Academy, Kit and Tamara for this honor. I am now a REAL blogger! Be sure to visit Tamara’s page (http://tamaraschmitz.blogspot.com/).

ALL 4 HIM

This is the preface to my unfinished book which is still a dream in progress.

Have you ever doubted your faith? Perhaps you’ve suspected that you are so far over your sin quota that God’s given up on you. Do you wonder why the testimony of women who wallowed in sin for decades moves everyone to tears, while you feel confident that your pure and Godly testimony would bore everyone to death? The women you meet on these pages will answer all of these questions and more. 

This is a book about good girls gone bad, bad girls gone good, and good girls gone God. It is about old women, young women, tall women and small. Women who cry when they are happy, laugh when they are sad, pouters, kidders and gossipers. It is about rich women and poor, married, never married, widowed and divorced. It is about mothers and daughters and women who are childless. It is about sex-addicts and virgins, drama queens, women who have led blessed lives and those whose lives read like a Greek tragedy. 

Don’t get me wrong. You are not going to meet Saint Glenda or Sister Jana. And Virgin Ashley still suffers from self-doubt and occasional bouts of shop-o-holic syndrome. Thirteen women attended the first A.L.L. For Him gathering. Even though the only prerequisite on the invitation was that you be a surrendered Christian woman, I could see the doubt in their eyes. Am I qualified to sit in this room? Am I surrendered? What would they think if they knew I drank a glass of wine at dinner? I’m sure that everyone else was passing out tracts and feeding the poor in Over-The-Rhine this week.

Funny thing about surrendered Christian women…they are a lot like snowflakes and fingerprints. No two are alike. They are not saintly clones, just imperfect saints. If salvation were a thirties vaudeville show, you would be dragging some of the women you meet in this book off the stage with a big hook, and rushing to others to crown them with tinsel halos. Therein lies the glory of an awesome God. His Son Jesus levels the playing field, handicaps the game, settles the score. Everyone on this stage shines…because they reflect Him.

THE BATH

I haven’t had a bath in decades. Seriously! The last one was probably in the 80’s, but I can’t even imagine what circumstance would have driven me to sit in a tub of warm H2O while the sweat and grime of the day contaminated the once crystal clear water. The warm water is destined to cool to 24.5 degrees below body temperature, and how do you wash your hair? I certainly wouldn’t want to rinse it in that water. Give me the joy of a shower any day! It’s like bathing in a waterfall . . . with a drain of course. The water maintains perfect temp and the dirt and grime are immediately washed away.

So how did this sad story come about? I was brainwashed. I am house-sitting for a lovely family who is serving Christ in China. During the walk-through before their departure, Linda told me to be good to myself and take a luxurious bubble bath in their master bath Jacuzzi. How do you ignore the advice of a woman packing up her husband, 4 children and full-sized poodle to live on the other side of the planet?

And then there is my sister, Angie. It is a well-known fact that she is a bath-o-holic. I’ve heard rumor that she has “lounged” in that tepid, stagnant water for hours! Personally, I think it’s just an escape tactic. She has 2 dogs, a husband, 6 children, 3 grandchildren, 2 more on the way, and she watches OPK’s (other people’s kids). Who wouldn’t need to hide behind a locked door?!

The final straw that pushed me over the edge was my new son-in-law’s mother, Pam. I invited Pam over for dinner. While touring the house she went crazy over the Jacuzzi. She made it sound so dreamy with candles and a good book. Wow! Maybe I’d been missing out all these years.It’s Friday morning and I don’t have to be at work till 2:00 P.M. This is it! B-Day! I turned on the faucet and began filling the ginormous tub. Remember that word from your childhood? Ginormous, the marriage of giant and enormous, can be found in Webster’s dictionary. It’s so big that I ran out of hot water and had to add boiling water from my tea kettle. As the water level slowly rose, I added a small amount of bath gel and gathered the mandatory candles, candle-lighter, book, reading glasses, towel, washcloth, shampoo, conditioner, cell phone, and perfectly brewed cup of Passionate Peach tea. I was ready.

KNIGHT IN SHINING ARMOR

Whenever my friends get together, the moment invariably arrives when, as one voice, they cry, “Tell the reunion story!” I prefer to think of it as a modern day fairytale, where the hero dashes in on his trusty steed to save the day. This knight didn’t ride in on a black stallion and his armor was a golf shirt and slacks. Nevertheless, his deeds were heroic.

If you were one of the so-called ‘popular kids’ in high school, you might want to set aside this story right now. You can’t possibly understand the enormity or magnitude of the long-awaited event that was about to unfold. An event so impactful that the stars and moon would align and my very existence would finally be justified….the 15 reunion of Mt. Healthy High School, Class of 1970, Cincinnati, Ohio. This was my chance to shine. To prove to everyone that Glenda Maxine Atkins was no longer the incredibly shy, awkward, straight-A, wallflower of her painful youth. You know how some people spend their lives reliving their high school glory? Seriously, I cried when I talked about those painful years. I walked through the halls of Mt. Healthy High with eyes downcast, carrying my books close to my chest to cover-up that embarrassing development. Did I join the Spirit Club or that group of baton-twirlers in short skirts? No, I belonged to the French and Drama Clubs. I didn’t know how to dress cool, style my hair or wear makeup. Oh, how I longed to be one of the in-crowd. A cool girl that could attract the attention of a football player like Mike Marshall. I almost swooned when Mike butted in front of me in the lunch line one day. He was so handsome that I felt honored that a celebrity like him stole my place in line. Sadly, THAT was the highlight of my high school saga.

Now it is 1985 and everything has changed. I am a successful investment broker, wife and mother of two wonderful children. I had recently moved back to Cincinnati after four fun and sun-filled years in San Diego. I was one of those California girls everyone was wishing for! I was tan, I knew how to dress, I worked out, heck, I even took the EST training. I drove a sports car and lived in a great house. The ugly duckling had finally turned into an enlightened and beautiful swan.