CELEBRATING ANDY, and the Work of His Hands  By Lori A Alicea

In the Bible it is written in Romans 13:7 ESV…
Give honor to whom honor is due.

I find such a man in my brother Andy, whom honor is greatly due him.

This was an unexpected honor for me when my sister Debbie asked if I’d be willing to celebrate her husband’s life in words, because as far as I could remember, our brother Mark has always been the official family spokesperson at times like these.

Even as Mark and Andy are heavenly neighbors now, I somehow feel Mark’s presence still, prepared to take his rightful place at this podium.

But yet I’m here instead, privileged to deliver the words God wants to comfort us with while Celebrating Andy.IMG_6541

They say that the hearing is the last to go and if Andy could hear my name being called to the stage today, he’d be jolted and startled for a second with these words, “Copy that???”

Today is a bittersweet day to be together, locking arms and hearts together as we navigate this maiden voyage of uncharted waters without our Andy.

This small setting has all the “feels” of our family holiday dinners; the holiday being the celebration of our Handy Andy, our Hunny Bunny, our Papa, our Dad, our Brother ‘n law.

But as beautiful as this table set before us is, it’s hard not to notice the empty chair once occupied by Andy.

Rumor has it that Andy chose instead to attend a heavenly grand reunion in his honor…Greek translation…rude.

I wish I had a front row seat to the Houle section in the banquet room of heaven.

Surely, there is a senior table for our family pillars, Mom and Roger, Bill and Gloria and Bon Bon, with Dad and Joyce waving from their table nearby.

Surely, there’s a table where Andy has taken his rightful place seated next to Belinda, Mark and Mary. I can almost see Mark high fiving Andy – “Bro – you made it.” I have no doubt Belinda has a left a goody bag of jelly beans on Andy’s plate, and Mary, she sits and laughs as she takes it all in.

Mom is beaming with great joy to see her sidekick back at the card table and the entire family cheers for this grand reunion they’ve been waiting for.

Yes, it is an honor to Celebrate Andy’s life.

The book-ends of anyone’s life are their birth certificate and their obituary.

Held together by these book-ends are the volumes of details, the memories, the moments, the trials and victories of our beloved’s life.

Let’s begin by reading the final book-end of Andy’s life.

Andrew Hritz, age 66 of Valparaiso, IN passed away July 12, 2023.

He was born on Sept 15, 1956 to the late Michael and Pauline Hritz in Gary, IN.

On March 5, 1977, Andrew married the love of his life Deborah Houle in Valparaiso, IN. Andrew enjoyed reading, making homemade ice cream and eggnog, but most of all he loved spending time with his wife, children and grandchildren.wedding andy deb

Andrew was talented with his hands; his nickname was Handy Andy and if he did the job well his wife called him Honey Bunny.

Andrew will be remembered as a loving husband, father, grandfather, brother, uncle and friend and he will be deeply missed.

Andrew is survived by his loving wife of 46 years, Deborah Hritz of Valparaiso, son, Phillip (Mandie Fusner) Hritz, Amanda (Jordan) Mayfield of Argos, IN,

Four grandchildren, Kollin and Zachary Hritz, Gracie and Luke Mayfield;

Four brothers Michael, Bill, John and Paul Hritz and many other loving family members.
Andrew was proceed in death by his father, Michael Hritz and his mother Pauline.

When you open up the book between the book-ends of Andy’s life, the first page begins with a shortened stanza from an old song we used to sing sitting on the pews of our Southern Baptist church as kids…

GREAT IS THY FAITHFULNESS…

All I have needed thy hand hath provided…
Great is thy faithfulness, Lord unto me.

From beginning to end, Andy’s life reflected God’s faithfulness as he learned to trust and never let go of God’s hand for every need and provision for his wife, children, grandchildren, employment and extended family.

Andy had a life verse whether he realized it or not, and this verse was once prophesied over him proving to be a true word from our Creator…

God will bless the work of your hands…
Deuteronomy 28:12

I looked up the meaning of this verse and it reads as follows: God has destined that our hands be empowered to accomplish great things and will be sufficient for you.

There’s a quote from the website of once evangelist Billy Graham which speaks to and exemplifies the life of our dear Andy:

The Greatest legacy one can pass onto one’s children and grandchildren is not money or other material things accumulating in one’s life, but rather a legacy of character and faith.

Yes, character and faith through Andy’s hands would become his legacy…

HERE IS A SMALL TRIBUTE TO THAT LEGACY.

From his hand and heart, Andy waved the white flag of surrender in salvation to God.

Andy gave his hand in marriage to one woman for 46 glorious years, as he loved her, cherished her, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health all the days of his life.
Handy Andy hung galleries of Debbie’s Board and Brush pictures with his hands, defying physics and logic and preventing a house implosion from the sum of its weight.
Andy was always game for a hand of cards – albeit Rummy, UNO, Yahtzee, or Pinnacle against Denise, Brad, Jill and mom, showing no mercy to either of them.

Uncle Drew held out his hand and scooped up the small nieces and nephews whenever they reached for his lap.

Game shark Andy showed no hand of mercy either while playing Chutes and Ladder, Candy Land, and Mother Love with his daughter Amanda and niece Candace when they were just learning to play.

Uncle Drew’s hands walked my young daughter to elementary school when she was afraid of the neighborhood dogs.

Daddy Andy held his daughter’s hand while learning to walk on tippy toes as a toddler. He held her hand as they walked together to the altar during her Honor Star service, and most proudly, Amanda’s father held tight to his daughter’s hand as she walked her wedding isle as a beautiful bride.

With books in their hands, a father and his son Phillip treasured the words written about God, exchanging their discoveries and truth about prophecy, and End – Times. They also bonded as guys do in the garage around tools, cars and grease.
Uncle Drew’s hands wrestled through the ages of my young to my grown-up son Jake on his lap, once conning his nephew to pull out a pair of skid marked whitey-tightys from his Christmas gift as a joke for the giver– a legendary memory of laughter for us all.

Son ’n law Andy with his hands helped our mother by fixing her car, hanging pictures on her walls, sharing coffee and a seat around the table, and whatever he possibly could do to harass her.

Andy’s hands were the official carver of the holiday turkey and ham; whose place at the stove rang the silent dinner bell for everyone to take their seats at the kid’s table, senior table, adult table or any place you could find on the floor as dinner was almost served.

You wouldn’t know about them unless Andy felt led to show you, but Andy kept a library of hand written notes and diagrams pertaining to his job description throughout those 30+ years on the clock, a trophy recognizing his pursuit of excellence unto his Almighty God at work.

His hands as an employee carried a cooler/lunch pail so big and jammed pack of food, someone taking a picture might think he was toting the refrigerator to his job.

Andy’s hands clapped the loudest from the heart of the most proud Papa for his sweet Gracie during her dance and piano recitals.

Andy’s hands held and shared a fleet of trucks and cars with his little Lukie who loved and treasured this one-on-one Papa time with him.

Papa’s hands shared the hearts of his grandchildren Gracie and Lukie with Carla, Deb and well, ok…Dave, their other grandparents equally in love with them.

Don’t get me started on the hilarious sight of Andy with giant Old Maid cards in his hand and a game against granddaughter Gracie, nieces Ayva and Aubrey and their giggles to give him the Old Maid for the win.

Chef Andy’s hands concocted and shared the most delicious homemade eggnog with his daughter Mandie Renee at Christmas. But truth be told, Andy shared a cup of her stash with David and I this past Christmas.

A father ‘n law’s hands stood and saluted on the inside with the utmost respect and pride for his military son, a man of honor who lives for God, Family, Country and Flag; and in that order.

Papa Andy’s hands shared a bucket of popcorn for years with his son Phillip, his grandsons Kollin and Zachary and nephew Ethan tagging along to watch those action-packed movies at the theater. A wrestling match against old and young took place most nights during their time together.

It was a given for Andy’s hands to serve and share a cup of coffee with David and me whenever we visited, ensuring a carton of our favorite cream was bought in advance.

Andy might have been a man few of words, even though this Queen of Questions standing here tried to pry a few sentence over the years, but his servant’s hands spoke volumes for themselves.
Andy and Debbie weren’t travelers and the farthest they’d ever drive was to the nearest Walmart. But when the car doors opened from our military family, and from our southern drawl families from Tennessee and Texas, rest assured Uncle Drew welcomed you with those Andy-hugs he was famous for. Rest assured Andy made the draft cut into the Special Forces which thrived to bother, aggravate and stir up trouble as guys love to do. Rest assured his nieces and nephews found a seat at the table near their Uncle Drew, making up for lost time of love and laughter with him. Andy had a hand in being present for those long distant relationship reunions.

Andy also had a hand in being present in his quiet relationships at church, and through our special events when extended families join together in celebration.

Our sister Denise’s best friend Jill had two small children in need of a babysitter so Debbie and Andy opened their home for babysitting, while also watching my two. They became Aunt and Uncle to Julie and JT who loved them as their own. Our family adopted these two as well into their hearts. Julie and JT’s pictures filled up Aunt Debbie’s library of scrapbooks, they each had a seat along with their extended family at our gatherings, their names found themselves on every guest list of ours, became part of the cousin generation, their branches grew and became off-shoots from our family tree, and we can’t imagine life without them, all because Debbie and Andy opened their hearts and home to them.

Brother ‘n law Andy extended a hand of hope to me as a single woman, receiving my small children during the middle of the night and putting them to bed as I went off to work. Rules were meant to be broken when Debbie wasn’t around, and Uncle Drew became Mr. Fun, pulling out all the stops of entertainment while I worked the other shifts. Loving my kids to life during this most difficult season for them, Debbie and Andy bonded with my little boy and girl as second parents.
Andy’s hands touched others beyond his knowledge.

We each have a ripple effect, touching others beyond our reach, beyond our life’s stone cast across the water into ripples on a pond.

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Through his wife’s pictures on social media, Andy was known at the city gates as a family man, a papa on adventure with his grand-kids, a father whose hands held the hearts of his children close, a husband who understood covenant in marriage; a rare find of gold mined from a man’s life these days.

Though a man of few words, Andy had a message and it was preached through the ripple effect of his life’s stone cast across the water into ripples on a pond.

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 Andy’s hands were never idle… earning his infamous title of Handy Andy.

His hands drew from the well of “acts of service”, the language of love he spoke to his family.

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From his hands he gave back to God what was due him in tithes and offerings, in prayer, in time and talent and Sunday mornings with Him.

Hand and in hand along the Riverwalk of their life together, Andy enjoyed the most wonderful year of retirement with his bride. A year of bike rides, pancake breakfasts, Dairy Queen trips and Walmart shopping sprees to name a few.

Their final night together, husband Andy held the hand from the wife of his youth while sharing his devotion and love to her; they both fell asleep this way. A framed moment his wife of 46 years will forever hang from her heart.

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Yes, God truly blessed the love and life of Andy’s hands.

Andy and Debbie’s faithfulness to God, their children and grandchildren will be a legacy passed on through the generations. The fruit of their faithfulness is evident and measured in the bushel basket-fulls of their family.

Amanda, the God-fearing woman she’s been throughout her life of forty years without waver is now mirrored in the worshiper we see in her daughter Gracie. Her son Lukie stands on a stage all his own, enjoying life and passionate around a race track of cars and trucks, making room one day for his calling in life.

Phillip, though man of few words as his father, has a hunger in his pursuit for Jesus which has been evident in him wanting his grandmother’s books centered around Christian living from her library as his inheritance. Phillip’s son Kollin is equally as quiet and has a presence about him in his respect and kindness for others. Phillip’s other son Zachary has this zest for life and humor like his Papa, causing hilarious trouble while drawing others unto himself.

Debbie and Andy have lived out the scriptures charged to them as parents…

We will not hide them from their descendants; we will tell the next generation the praiseworthy deeds of the Lord.
Psalm 78:4 NIV

To pass the baton of faith, you must first possess it in your hand.
For a smooth hand-off in the relay of life, you need a firm grip on the baton of faith and an intentional effort to place it in the hand of the next generation; as Andy and Debbie have.

Surely Andy has already heard these words of affirmation from the Heavenly Father,

Well done, good and faithful servant…
Matthew 25:21

Andy’s address has changed.

He now lives and breathes in a perfect place with God while we attempt to process his absence here on earth; a momentary separation until our name is called and we are reunited with him once again.

BUT HERE WE ARE; WE GRIEVE.
Everybody grieves.

Yes, everybody grieves.

But everybody grieves differently, and in their own way.
Some grieve outwardly, visible through the rainfall of their tears.

Some grieve inwardly, as if a dam holds back the streams of their pain, yet breaks through in the flow of their written words or song.

There is no measuring stick to gauge one’s grief,

But you grieve nevertheless.

Grief is a painting of a thousand words.
We find ourselves consoled in the brushstrokes from those who understand.

We take comfort in the sunsets that calm our weariness.

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Just as the morning dew weeps over the spring flowers, we also are given permission to weep.

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Jesus himself wept in grief over a dear friend who died.

Jesus wept.
John 11:35 NIV

This portrait of grief is an open book of our heart where its pages are stained from runaway tears, yet caught by the hands of a loving God who notices and stores them in a bottle, recording these raindrops of pain in His Book of Remembrance.

You’ve stored my many tears in your bottle
not one will be lost.
For they are all recorded
In your book of remembrance.
Psalms 56:8 (TPT)

This portrait of a thousand words hangs in our personal gallery titled,
A Family says Good-bye.”
This season of showers of our tears,

Whether flowing from the windows of our heart or soul,

Our tears water a great hope of a family reunion one day, in heaven.

From each shower,

A “rainbow in full view” of the open sky reminds us of the nearness of God.
These April showers bring forth May flowers of joy, because in God:

Weeping may endure for a night,
But joy cometh in the morning.
Psalm 30:5 (KJV)

The season of grief most difficult,

The season which wrestles and fights to hold onto your heartstrings,

Yet a season you must find His perfect peace,

The season of letting go.

In our letting go,

We are letting God…

Sit with us beside the empty chair.

Be that telephone call when we long for theirs.

Be a song when we miss their voice.

Be an arm of comfort in the middle of the night.

Give us eyes to see our family portrait still complete.

Be a father to the fatherless.

Be a husband to the widow.

Be a friend to the friendless.

Lead us beside still waters.

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Be everything;

Whatever everything needs to be.

Going forward, that first birthday, first holiday, first wedding anniversary and first Father’s Day without Andy will be honored and grieved differently by each who loved him, though grieved nevertheless.

God wipes our tears when they fall outwardly.

God will be those words or song when we weep from the inside.

God will be a faithful post to lean on when the weight of our heartache is far too great a burden to shoulder and stand alone.

In our letting go,

We are letting God.

We’ll get there when we get there.

In time…in time

AND NOW WE SAY GOOD-BYE

Saying good-by to Andy is most difficult; the pain unbearable at times.

The “changing of the guard” is simultaneously taking place in multiple homes of our family, causing hearts to short-circuit from the emotional overload of sadness, yet rejoicing as our Andy has just seen Jesus.

As the season of summer is about to place the baton in the hand of its neighbor called fall, closing up swimming pools and beaches in exchange for cozy sweaters and campfires, our family is in their lane and in position for the hand-off and good-bye to a husband, father, papa and friend in Andy.

Good-bye is our book-end to hello.

A shelf of memories stacked between each book-end, keeping each scrapbook firmly placed between so many years of good-byes and hello.

While our good-byes can stir up a whirlwind of joy as does its partner of hello, it’s just embracing the vision of the hello when “letting go” in our good-bye causes so much emotion.

While the shades of good-bye vary as the colors in the rainbow, good-bye nevertheless requires an exchange of the baton in our heart.

Before an unexpected good-by, Andy looked at the “love of his life” for the very last time; yet didn’t realize it.

You never saw one without the other.

Still high school sweethearts into their golden years, the glow of their faces while looking into each other’s eyes alone could fill up the pages of a romance novel.
For the first day in their marriage lifetime just a few days ago, Andy’s wife woke up to the sunrise of sadness, sensing the vacancy on his side of the bed, sitting at the breakfast table with his empty coffee cup and empty seat in front of her, void of his bright smile that didn’t greet her good-morning.

Yet, in the pain of their good-bye on this earth, Debbie’s Honey Bunny said hello to the other love of his life, the one he gave his heart to and waited a lifetime to spend eternity with, his Lord and Savior.

Debbie’s Hunny Bunny still retains his bright smile he was known for, yet he brightens up our hearts now, while leaving the world a bit dimmer.
Good-bye is our book-end to hello.

One sad good-bye is a glorious hello to someone else.

We were never meant to hold on to anything; the moments, life as we know it, each other.

Life is a daily letting go so that in our letting go, we can “Let God” have His way in us.

Good-bye might not be the hello we want to embrace,

But be willing to stay in your lane,

Get in position for the handoff of the baton,

And continue to run the race set before you.

As Good-bye is always our hello to the next step, the new beginning,

Of something wonderful God wants to do thru us.

We love you Andy. We love you Uncle Drew. We love you dad.

We love you Papa. She loves you Hunny Bunny.
Until that grand reunion in heaven, we will all miss you like crazy.

IN THE STILLNESS, HE IS GOD! By Lori A Alicea

As the sun slumbers giving the moon and stars their turn to keep watch, stillness hushes the night, putting to sleep the day we just lived.   The twenty-four hours present is now a page written in the past.  Those waters turbulent hours ago are now calm and the quiet of the night is whispering, “Be still.”

We all need rest.
Rest from our weariness.
Rest from our circumstances.
Rest for strength for another day.
Rest to hope again.

Night pulls back the curtains to the skies undeniable brilliance, reflecting its face from the mirrors of the waters below.

In the midnight hour, calm and quiet wrap their arms around you and peace settles as dew on the morning grass.

The One who set creation’s stage gently taps your shoulder and speaks,

“Be still, and know that I am God…”
Psalm 46:10 (NIV)

He is God, the one who separated night from day, spoke the sun and moon into place and named every star in the sky.

He is God as far as eyes can see.  We are witnesses to His signature left behind in nature’s intricate details.

He is God and ever present among us.  We’re never alone in the rough waters of day.  We have company in the stillness of night.

He is God.

No matter the storms,

…He’ll calm you with his love…Zephaniah 3:17 (MSG)

As quickly as day kissed the cheek of evening goodnight, the break of dawn will give birth to morning.  You’ll hear the cry of another twenty-four hours being born at sunrise, another opportunity to see God in the face of a new day, to experience Him in the Stillness, no matter the hour.

In the Stillness yellow flowers

A NEW DAY RISING
Lori A Alicea

A new day rises with the sun,
In Stillness might I see?
Attention paid to unseen blooms,
Much more He cares for me.

He clothes the grass and flowers all,
He tends my garden too.
His hand is near, he tends my heart,
Like spring, each day is new.

 “If God gives such attention to the appearance of wildflowers—most of which are never even seen—don’t you think he’ll attend to you…  Matthew 6:30 MSG

 

THE RIPPLE EFFECT By Lori A Alicea

Created by God…

We are each born for greatness.

We are born to make a difference.

We are born with gifts uniquely matched for our God-assignment.

We each have a ripple effect, touching others beyond our reach, beyond our life’s stone cast across the water into ripples on a pond.

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I alone cannot change the world, but I can cast a stone across the water to create many ripples.
Mother Teresa

You don’t have to do something great or be someone great to have a ripple effect on others…
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Just a desire to change the world for one.

The ripple effect of his life’s stone cast across the pond went as far as eyes could see into the sunset.

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The years will continue to tell his story thru the ripple effect of those he touched down stream when one-changed-life affects change for another, and then another.

Stopped in my tracks when I caught a sound-bite of him through the open Dutch-door one Sunday morning attending this church for the first time thirty-three years ago, as I looked to find the age appropriate class for my young daughter that day.

Peeking in, I jumped as he startled me with those military commands to put his nursery age class in formation, preparing them to march, as they were now drafted into the Army of God; or should I say, Marines.

My daughter was late finding her class as we stayed and watched in awe this Marine guy and his Second-in-Command (wife) get this platoon in diapers ready for war.

MARCH…1..2..3.

A few soldiers walked, with Mr. Marine army-crawling on the floor with the other recruits.

As usual in the nursery, the children begin missing their parents and Mr. Marine comforts them as good Marine’s do.

There’s no crying in the military”,
Then diverts their attention by detonating bombs of Cheerios.

INCOMING…INCOMING…soldiers take cover”.

There were a few causalities when the urgent call sounded,

Medic, I need a Medic…”

As Mr. Marine handed those soldiers with explosions of their own to his Second-in-Command and sending them to the infirmary.

This Marine guy went into the trenches with his platoon, loving these small soldiers and casting his life’s stone across the pond of their lives, creating rippling effects for years to come as they grew.

 I left that military zone with a smile on this single woman’s face, wondering if Mr. Marine had any brothers for me.

Imagine thinking such things in church.

Mr. Marine did have a name; it was Gunnery Sgt. Joe to the United States of America.
Sgt. Joe cast his life’s stone into many ponds, thus widening the rippling effects of the lives he touched with a soldier’s love, kindness, and even military toughness when necessary.

Sgt. Joe was a husband of forty-plus years to his wife, a father to two daughters, a grandfather to six, a teacher and mentor to men and marriages, and an elder at church.

Sgt. Joe was one brother among five.

Sgt. Joe was Uncle Joe to two generations of nieces and nephews who were crazy about him.

Sgt. Joe was Mr. Joe to a decade of school bus children; a world-changer to them one life at a time.

Sgt. Joe was also a matchmaker, as he did have a brother when I wondered that first day in church.  David and I met and married five years later, with Sgt. Joe officiating our 25th Wedding Anniversary Renewal.

Twenty-seven years go by and we’re witnessing once again the rippling effects of Sgt. Joe’s life while standing to receive the guests of his memorial service, those waiting in line for an hour at minimum, a line which wrapped around our church foyer and never emptied until the service began, a tribute to the ripples in his life’s pond that stretched as far as eyes could see into the sunset.

Yes, it’s true, you don’t have to do something great or be someone great to have a ripple effect on others…

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Just have a desire to change the world one life at a time; and Sgt. Joe did just that.

CLASS IS STILL IN SESSION  By Lori Alicea

School is out for the summer.

Overstuffed desks have been emptied from the (crayons, pencils, forgotten tests and assignments) of nine months of learning and jammed into the backpacks of children popping the cork of their energy as they run and burst through the doors in a mass exodus after the school bell rings one final time to kick off summer break…

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Yes, school may be out for the summer,

But class is still in session.

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Because…

We’re always learning.
We’re always teaching.

It’s always show-and-tell.

As we continue to teach from the classrooms of our lives.

My dad was one of those teachers.

Dad taught from the front lawn of his neighborhood, a school whose mail was delivered to the home he shared with his beloved Joyce during their marriage, retirement and golden years.

Dad lived and breathed in this close-knit community of like-minded relationships whose pulse and heartbeat was traced to the second greatest commandment given to us…

Love your neighbor as yourself…
Mark 12:31 NIV

With the first greatest commandment being…

Love the Lord your God with all your heart
And with all your soul
And with all your mind
And with all your strength.
Mark 12:30 NIV

It was written…

There is no commandment greater than these.
Mark 12:31 NIV

And so my father did.
And they did likewise.

To love their neighbors in the houses to the left of themselves, to the right of themselves and down the street; wherever there was need.

While dad came up empty and without a high school diploma on Graduation Day as an eighteen year old, he was highly decorated with an Honorary Degree in going the extra mile for his brother, a Lifetime Achievement Award for all the extra credit in loving his neighbor.

Sadly, we as his children didn’t learn about our father’s accolades until the remaining months of his life battling cancer.dads house 4

When my father’s reputation for his pristine and well-manicured lawn was now overgrown with weeds…

The neighbors began showing up without an invitation, without an exchange of compensation, without expectation;

To mow, trim, care and lift the burden of my father’s lawn during his final days of summer and beyond until the house sold months after we said good-by to dad, as a lesson learned and tribute echoing back to our father.

Love your neighbor as yourself.

Because you see, class was in session from my father’s front lawn when he’d notice the once-pristine now overgrown lawns of his neighbors and crossed their property lines with his mower to meet an unspoken need.

Dad held class all year long among the neighbors of this close-knit community, even during the winter months of plowing snow.

Just loving his neighbors as himself.

Our oldest sister Debbie honored the neighbors at our father’s funeral.funeral 50

Seven years later the school bell rang again to remind a grown daughter how

Class was still in session.

The textbook of my father’s life was opened up and now being taught from the front lawn of our address, when noticing through the kitchen window my husband crossing property lines and mowing the overgrown lawns of neighbors unable to do so themselves.

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Without an invitation…
Without an exchange of compensation…
Without expectation…

Serving somebody’s mother…
Serving somebody’s father…

Just loving our neighbors as himself.

This class is still in session…

Reminding me of the lessons my father taught with his life.

When you bountifully sow into another man’s field, you’ll reap a bountiful harvest in yours.
(Galatians 6:1-10)

USE Wildflowers 3

THE GENERATIONS I WILL NEVER MEET By Lori A Alicea

We’re all just passing through.

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A piece of truth I didn’t give much thought to as a younger person only caught up in the moments before her, with no regard for the brevity of days, years and decades already determined before my life ever began.

Lord, remind me how brief my time on earth will be.
Remind me that my days are numbered – how fleeting my life is.
Psalms 39:4 NLT

Much older now and looking over my shoulder to the family and friends I have already said my heartfelt good-byes to; those ships of my loved ones who have left life’s harbors for the beautiful shores of heaven.

I now keep a closer watch and vigil of the sands of time that gather up my days, as our boarding passes they wait to be printed, with us continuing to live each day before God until our name is finally called.family ship sail

You have made my life no longer than the width of my hand.
My entire lifetime is just a moment to you; at best, each of us is but a breath.
Psalms 39:5 NLT

From cover to cover, the Bible records the generations passing through leading up to the life of Christ, mere ordinary people with human frailties, failures and victories God chose to use and accomplish His will.england journey walking on tree

A Hall of Faith records for our encouragement those who exemplified great faith with their ordinary lives…believing God when natural eyes failed to see.

Now faith is being sure of what we hoped for and certain of what we do not see.
Hebrews 11:1 NIVE20F61D7-17E6-44E9-856A-288148354B4B

By faith and under God’s command…

Noah built an ark for a flood nobody believed would come.

Abraham left his home not knowing where he was going.

Abraham was willing to sacrifice his only son.

Moses left his life of privilege to lead the Israelite’s out of Egypt.

Rahab, a prostitute and in the lineage of Christ, helped the spies to conquer Jericho.

And many more were recorded to inspire our faith.

They were all just passing through.

And so are we… just passing through.path in woods

With God wanting to use our frailties, failures and victories to accomplish His will.

Standing here today, there are two generations already looking over their shoulder at me; maybe for wisdom, guidance, instruction, or history…or maybe not, at least for today.USE both girls looking back

But there will come a day when our family Bible is searched for the names passing through the generations before I was ever born and after, following the paths we’ve dug and paved for the generations we’d never meet, leading them to the life of Christ from the lives we each had lived.0FCF6B3F-084B-4EA8-8148-344DB23AD21C

Hence, is the reason I write.

It is for legacy and the generations I will never meet, that I write.

LEGACY; It is for Them That I Write.
By Lori A Alicea
(An excerpt)

The weight of passing on to our grandchildren (and beyond) a lasting heritage weighed heavy on our heart.E5EBDCB8-92F0-4A10-832F-F0CDD14D458F

We risked the next generation growing up without God if our lives didn’t reflect His image; if we failed to tell the generation in front of us the marvelous works and heavenly truths about their Creator.

One generation commends your works to another, they tell of your mighty acts. Psalm 145:4 NIV

Children and grandchildren are our arrows; arrows that leave the bow of a praying (parent / grandparent) and launched for a Kingdom pursuit that they might pierce the hearts of others for Jesus.lito and theia praying

Children are a heritage from the Lord, offspring a reward from him.
Like arrows in the hands of a warrior, are children born in one’s youth.
Blessed is the man whose quiver is full of them. Psalm 127:3-5 NIV

Hence, we grandparents are intent to do our part in living and leaving a life of legacy before them.

It is for inheritance;

It is for legacy.

It is for them that I write.

sephia photography of desk lamp lightened the gray typewriter on wooden table
Photo by Min An on Pexels.com

Part of their legacy are stories, their stories, memorializing the past; their history of a faithful God. That they not forget and lean on these truths when facing familiar mountains of hard times again.

It is for them that I write.

LEGACY; It is for Them That I Write.
By Lori A Alicea
(An excerpt ends)

We’re all just passing through.england rosalee kizzie 4

A mist, a vapor, a moment; a mere breath we are…

Whose only hope is in you.DB1BD086-A7C5-47BA-AC0B-C3488378F022

We are merely moving shadows,
And all our busy rushing ends in nothing.
We heap up wealth,
Not knowing who will spend it.
And so, Lord, where do I put my hope?
My only hope is in you.
Psalms 39:6-7 NLT

May the reasons I write record a good and faithful God from the stories and history I re-tell of my life and our family’s life alike.

May the generations I will never meet follow the path I dug and paved in hopes to lead them to the life of Christ.england journey walking on path

IN THE INTERRUPTION By Lori A Alicea

Every hour on my calendar was spoken for that day, leaving no available margin of time for an interruption, as I was leaving the following morning at two for an early flight to visit my military family for sixteen days.

Already sleep deprived as I had been up until midnight hours before in preparation for my trip, I almost cancelled my first appointment.

Now, scheduled in front of me is a workout with a friend, coffee with another friend, errands, packing and a few moments of quality time with my husband before I kissed him good-by for the next couple of weeks.rocking chairs - david and lori 1

Calendars are as overbooked as we are in its attempt to keep us organized and color coded by (child, activities, sports, play-dates, etc.) hoping we all find a place around the dinner table a few nights in the week for whatever someone has energy to make.

cup of black coffee beside a calendar
Photo by Leeloo Thefirst on Pexels.com

But unbeknownst to us, God has scheduled a few divine appointments of His own in our over-committed schedules, only to be revealed when we are willing to recognize them in the interruptions of our day.

My morning begins with an early text message from my workout friend who expressed an interest for an early walk around the town’s scenic track at 7:00 am instead of our usual gym time at six. Loving the peace and tranquility of the morning I agreed, but would have to leave at 7:45 am for my coffee date at 8:00.

Turning the corner onto the street a few blocks from the track, something laying in the intersection caught my attention. Was it a small turtle needing help to cross the street or could it be a wallet?

a crosswalk at a street corner
Photo by Nataliya Vaitkevich on Pexels.com

Reversing course, I picked up the mysterious wallet I knew someone must be desperate for its return.

Parked at the track now, I invaded a stranger’s personal space by looking inside for a phone number or identity I could match and notify on social media, but only found an address from a student ID instead.

person holding an empty wallet
Photo by Towfiqu barbhuiya on Pexels.com

Texting a friend with the same last name from the wallet’s identification, I questioned if he recognized the face from the picture I sent him, but unfortunately not. Although, my friend had a great idea of me blessing the high school student with a few extra dollars in his wallet, for which I did.

Wanting to contact the mystery student before he was forced to cancel his bank and credit cards (if he hadn’t already by now), my workout friend who finally arrives has this bright idea of taking the wallet directly to the student’s house since his address was already known.

My friend and former paramedic with no fear of strangers tells me to take a seat as she revs up her engine on mission, a divine appointment from God.

Heart palpitating and white eyed as a deer in the headlights, I informed my zealous friend I’d be waiting in the car during the wallet exchange. I even suggested casting our find out the car window onto the doorstep while driving at high speed passing the house.

pexels-photo-15912770.jpeg
Photo by Huzaifa Mujtaba on Pexels.com

That would be a negative for both she retorted.

You’re going in.”

Catching my breath and tightening my seat-belt, we drove off into the unknown.

What in the world have I gotten myself into?”

As the GPS began navigating our travels across town, I realized our track time was now cancelled and quite possibly my coffee date.

In the interruptions, I questioned what God was doing.

Jesus lived a life full of interruptions during His three years of ministry. Never aggravated or frustrated in the re-direction, but full of love, patience and kindness to do the will of the Father.

Jesus was interrupted when a paralyzed man was lowered from the roof for healing as He preached.
(Mark 2:1-8)

As Jesus entered the town of Capernaum, He was interrupted by a centurion soldier asking to heal his servant.
(Matthew 8:5-13)

Jesus was interrupted while sleeping when his frightened disciples woke him up to calm the storm.
(Matthew 8:23-27)

Jesus was interrupted by parents presenting their children to Him as He taught.
Matthew 19:13-15

Jesus was interrupted during a sermon by a synagogue leader to restore his lifeless daughter. Stopping the sermon and along the way to the daughter’s house, Jesus was interrupted again when a woman with an issue of blood touched the hem of His garment. Jesus stopped to encourage the woman He healed and then restored the daughter back to life.
(Matthew 9:18-26)

The father of the student’s wallet greeted us at the door when we arrived; the student was attending class.

A friendly face I couldn’t believe I was hesitant to meet a few minutes ago.

Not even realizing his son had lost his wallet, yet the soft-spoken father invited my friend and me inside to hear how our journey led to the front steps of his home.FLAG 3

Secretly though,

God is about to unveil how the interruption of finding a lost wallet was actually a setup to a divine appointment for us all.

Not confident in speaking English, the adult son in the room translated his father’s Spanish, revealing his dad was also a Pastor serving other Pastors planting churches in neighborhoods nearby.USE church

The honor was all ours.

Catching my unsuspecting eye, I directed my friend’s attention to the husband-and-wife pictures hanging on the wall in the other room; two proud police officer portraits from their younger life.

Almost in tears, my friend and now Chaplain for the County Police, who serves the families wearing and carrying the weight of the badge, was privileged to meet these two.
police car

The son interpreting was also about to enter the academy.

What are the odds?

On a side note, the mother, through her son’s interpretation, recounted how she found and turned in a wallet full of money just a week ago. Now God is rewarding her honesty with the return of another wallet belonging to her son.

That morning, my friend and I prayed over this son entering the academy of the same city my friend serves as a Chaplain.

The Pastor then spoke and prayed a blessing over us.KEEP praying COUNT YOUR BLESSINGS praying

In parting, the Pastor invited us with our spouses over for dinner to break bread and share God with them around the table; the second chapter of this divine appointment still waiting its unveiling.USE Kitchen table

In driving home, my friend and I were overwhelmed about what just happened.

So many interruptions had to be followed thru for this divine appointment to even take place…

I almost cancelled my workout appointment because of sleep deprivation, yet I persevered.

At the last minute, my friend changed the location of our workout from the gym to the track, where I discovered the wallet left in plain sight for many hours.

I could have just said nothing and mailed my discovery instead because of being so busy, but I didn’t.

In the interruption, God had a divine appointment already scheduled.

Interestingly, I arrived on time for my coffee date at 8:00 am, an interruption though to another coffee house, where God wanted me to re-acquaint myself for reasons unknown with a former co-worker from thirty years ago when I worked as a computer programmer, and another friend from a few years back with me as a paralegal.

book opened on top of white table beside closed red book and round blue foliage ceramic cup on top of saucer
Photo by Suzy Hazelwood on Pexels.com

You never know why you’re supposed to meet these people. You just trust that God wanted it to happen.

This day was about being used by God for a bigger purpose that a calendar full of appointments.

But it was only in the interruption first that God could unveil His plans for a divine appointment.

love winter luck calendar
Photo by Nadezhda Moryak on Pexels.com

WHAT’S WRONG WITH ME? By Lori A Alicea (Part 2 of 3)


Discovering those beautiful diamonds of God’s goodness and faithfulness while mining my rejection!

PART 2 OF 3

WHAT’S WRONG WITH ME? By Lori A Alicea (Part 1 of 3)

I questioned my mother’s love for me…

Mother didn’t drive for many years when we were young and with dad working around the clock, mom walked us to a country church we attended one block away from home.HOUSE on Brook Drive

Behind our mother we ducklings followed single file behind her to our neighborhood lighthouse for Christ.

There was a season years later when mother stopped going to church, yet our love for God kept us walking.

Mother’s six kids all walked an isle of salvation following in water baptisms, and passing on a passion for Jesus to their families.CHURCH - 1st Baptist Church of South Haven

SEEING THINGS MORE CLEARLY (excerpt)
By Lori A Alicea

As an adult looking back on my life, I wish I had “seen things more clearly” while growing up with my four sisters and brother.Lori Siblings

Surrounded in a house with five other siblings, there were many opportunities to be selfish.  Children tend to see their cup half full, but now as an adult I know my cup had always overflowed, realizing I had more of everything money couldn’t buy, and that was having each other.

If only our eyes could naturally magnify the treasures of life.  If only our naked eye could see the “little things that matter”.  Too bad life doesn’t issue a pair of glasses that allows us to “see things more clearly”.

I think back then and smile remembering those late night talks with the two sisters I shared a room with, while trying to get the attention of the other two down the hall.  Or the times our brother conned us into doing his chores, promising his allowance, though never paying like he said.  I guess we girls just loved to make our only brother happy.

Then there were our countless meals around the table, always sitting in the same exact seat.  It was this sacred time spent together where the memories we now tell our own children were made.

SEEING THINGS MORE CLEARLY (excerpt end)

For years, mother sent her children to church camp to experience Jesus and outdoor cabin living.

One summer in 1973, and even though I always loved God, I finally surrendered my life to Him at camp with the scripture:

That if you confess with your mouth that Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that God has raised Him from the dead, you will be saved.”
Romans 10:9 AMPChurch Camp

Summer Camp – 1973
(I am standing on the top row, last on the right)

Looking at this younger version of myself back at summer camp, I wish I could talk to her and warn her with flashing lights of things to come. With eyes visibly shut, I want so bad to sound the alarm and awaken her spirit, because in four short years, a teenager’s journey is about to take a dangerous turn.

Her parents will divorce and six months after that, an innocent sixteen year old is startled from a deep sleep and jolted to a horrific nightmare of attempted rape by her mother’s second husband.

A horror flick in black and white without sound and not a soul able to hear my screams; I was too terrified and frozen in fear to cry out.

Why Lord? Why?

The scriptures remind…

In the world ye shall have tribulation;
But be of good cheer; for I have overcome the world.
John 16:33 KJV

In days, weeks and years to come, I was comforted in a Father’s promise…

The Lord is near to the brokenhearted…
Psalm 34:18 ESV

The Lord indeed was near and intervened in my rescue before the nightmare played out its final scene of terror.

A few days later my sister and I found refuge at our newly married sister’s house with our younger sister living now with dad, closing the door of home behind three young girls forever as our mother asked us to leave.HOUSE on Fox River Rd

WHAT’S WRONG WITH ME?

THE SIGHTS OF MARRIAGE…

After eleven years of marriage, I found myself a devastated single mother raising a baby girl and little boy in a two bedroom apartment located in a government housing community.  I never wanted to be divorced.

I was on my own for the very first time in my young life of twenty-eight years.

My family helped me unpack and put everything away on moving day; albeit I didn’t have much.

After the last family member left for home following the move, the sound of prison doors shut in my heart.

A few hours prior, I left behind the peace and tranquility of life in the country; and now my new residence in the city was deafening to my ears with the fire station nearby.914DBD72-2889-4CE0-95C2-B65C899067E3

A glimmer kept me hopeful though as my initial lease allowed the contract to be broken without reason before the first thirty days expired.

Surely my husband would return for his wife, baby girl and little boy when the silence echoed in every room of the house from our absence.

Yet, the showers of a broken heart flooded my soul after our thirtieth day in the apartment lapsed.  He never came back for us.

This government apartment would become our new address for the next five years.CANDY JAKE 007

It’s time to get off the bus now for a moment and stretch our legs.

This part of the tour is complete and you might be wondering why we stopped here in this town recently devastated by a Kentucky tornado; in particular, this house whose roof was relocated somewhere else in the neighborhood.

Feeling like I lost everything; my home, my marriage, my self-worth; I needed to be reminded when Jesus is all you have left, you come to realize Jesus is all you need.

Seated at his piano following this Kentucky tornado, a man named Jordan Baize comforts himself after losing his earthly possessions by playing the song,

There’s Just Something About That Name.

Let’s gather around the piano with him and sing…

THERE’S JUST SOMETHING ABOUT THAT NAME

By Bill and Gloria Gaither

Jesus, Jesus, Jesus;
There’s just something about that name.
Master, Savior, Jesus, like the fragrance after the rain.
Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, let all Heaven and earth proclaim
Kings and kingdoms will all pass away,
But there’s something about that name.Piano player

WHAT’S WRONG WITH ME?  

BE ENCOURAGED, THE VICTORY LAP IS ABOUT TO BEGIN.

Part 3 TO BE CONTINUED…

WHAT’S WRONG WITH ME? By Lori A Alicea (Part 3 of 3)


Discovering those beautiful diamonds of God’s goodness and faithfulness while mining my rejection!

PART 3 OF 3

Part 1 of 3

WHAT’S WRONG WITH ME? By Lori A Alicea (Part 1 of 3)

Part 2 of 3

WHAT’S WRONG WITH ME? By Lori A Alicea (Part 2 of 3)

All Aboard!

God has taken his seat on the bus and the VICTORY LAP begins with our new Tour Guide ready to reveal the bigger picture of my life with every site we re-visit.

The old hymn we six siblings sang in harmony together while seated side by side on the wooden pew of the old country church our mother walked us to begged to burst forth from my soul, “OH VICTORY IN JESUS!”  

There is about to be an exchange of…

BEAUTY FOR MY ASHES.

to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes.
The oil of joy instead of mourning,
And a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair….
Isaiah 61:3 NIV

With shovels and pick axes in hand, we are entering the mine of my rejection, about to discover those beautiful and precious diamonds of God’s goodness and faithfulness.

As we think on those things which are…

Of a good report…

Of virtue…

And are praiseworthy.

Whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of a good report, if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things.
Scripture Philippians 4:8 KJV

Mining for answers of all my questions, our Senior Pastor counsels his flock to turn around and look back a generation or more to understand the “whys” in our life, because the…

Iniquities of the fathers are visited upon the children unto the third and fourth generation.
(Exodus 20:5)

Without God, history repeats itself as fathers bequeath to their children and children’s children the tainted wells of their life as an inheritance for the generations beyond them to drink from.  Pastor also encourages us to “stop up and close off” for good those old wells of bitter water and dig anew that we might leave a (spiritual) inheritance to his children’s children to draw from instead.
(Proverbs 13:22)

Sadly, I found the answers to my “whys” while digging three generations back.

Not wanting to face this part of the tour alone, I found it comforting to share my seat of VICTORY with the (memory) of two other innocent girls whose pages of their childhood story were drenched and stained from those tears of sorrow similar to mine; my sisters Belinda and Mary.siblings belinda mary

 Together, we will hold each other’s hands from across the seat and look through the “windows of our past” without being afraid anymore, because God is about to reveal the scenes and details He was fully present in, though we were unaware.

 I take this VICTORY LAP for my daughters and granddaughters and also for my two sisters who suffered this part of their life in silence, that their legacy gain their wings for their daughters and granddaughter who continue the journey beyond their mother’s and grandmother’s life.

Reading our story, one might ask themselves, “Why does a loving God allow such heartache on innocent girls?”  Our good daddy replies to His daughters,

“It rains on the just and the unjust.”  (Matthew 5:45)

While God never promised a life without us “getting wet” from the tragedy’s of the world, He did promise to hold the umbrella and weather the storm with us.

THE SIGHTS OF GROWING UP Revisited…

Re-visiting our childhood home, I soon discover God’s hand of protection on our life when mother asked us girls to find another place to live following the assault from my step-dad, as our family home caught fire some time later and the flames began and ignited from my childhood room.

I was also heartbroken to discover my mother’s parents drank from the well of abandonment when as a baby, my grandmother left my mother in the crib to cry for hours without comfort as my grandmother left her alone during the evenings of dating.

My mother’s unrelenting cries of hunger and desperation for her mother’s arms could be heard and felt from the open windows of the neighbors, who offered no assistance to a child left alone.

Wanting also to hold and protect my mother close when I realize there were relatives in her life who drank from the well of sexual abuse.

The iniquities of the parents visit the third and fourth generations.
(Exodus 20:5)

After forty-plus-years I was finally brave enough to dig for answers regarding the man who assaulted an innocent girl while she slept.

A faithful Father protected and spared His daughter that night from the evils of my step-father when I discovered he left a party a few years later and raped two women at knife point; although the charges were never upheld in court.

My Pastor always reminded us,

Without God, we are all capable of the unthinkable.”

Though divorced by this time from my mother and decades since we last saw our step-father, he now lay in the hospital bed and within days of his death, my mother worried of his salvation.

As it is not God’s will that any should perish, but have everlasting life, my mother made a difficult request of us adult children to visit and say our final good-byes to him at his hospital bedside.

 Believing love never fails, we trusted our kindness might stir man’s heart for eternity.

Not forgetting our roots and heritage to a child’s promise of blessing in honoring their parents, even the office of mother and father when the emotions are too painful; we adult children visited our step-father with a pure heart to honor him in our final farewell.

Honor your father and mother, as the Lord your God has commanded you, so that you may live long and that it may go well with you in the land the Lord your God is giving you.
Deuteronomy 5:16 NIV

Taking in the final days of this man I once knew as step-dad, who now struggled and gasped to breathe for a single sip of coffee, the difficult memories I carried for decades in my heart’s pocket became a mere blur to this unknown person bloated at the abdomen, dying from emphysema.

Noticing the well wishes on the night stand for my step-father caught me off guard and took my breath to realize they were greeting cards the grandchildren gave him years ago when they were little.

We were the only family this broken man had ever known.

Born as an innocent boy with a story being written from the same God and pen in His hand who was also writing mine, yet still a boy on the inside who was never loved to life; as his own father drew from the well of alcoholism and child abuse.

We children honored this man and our mother by attending his funeral.

The blessings were ours for the taking in our honoring.

Regarding my mother, I grew up without ought or an unforgiving heart towards her; how could I?  She was a woman who introduced me to Jesus by taking me to church, sending me to camp, joining us at Vacation Bible School and so much more.

The same Jesus who forgives me of my trespasses when we forgive those who trespass against us. (Matthew 6:12)

Yet sadly, I don’t believe my Mother ever forgave herself or moved beyond the ash heap of ground zero from the spiritual fires her choices cost her family.

 I grieve for mom and my sisters Mary and Belinda who left this earth suffering in the silences of their past when God longed to touch their brokenness with the healing salve of a Fathers’s love.

We each hold keys to the gates which unlock those secret places we dare not allow any to trespass; but we must be willing to relinquish and surrender these entrances of our lives for freedom’s sake.

Mother looked at me for the remainder of my life without her glasses, never noticing how God turned my mourning into dancing, gave me beauty for my ashes, how God made something beautiful out of my life.

I QUESTIONED MY MOTHER’S LOVE FOR ME revisited.

Four years before my mother died, her address changed to a nursing home and I offered to pack up her house. Before the details of my mother’s life was photographed and chronicled on a spreadsheet for future gifting to her heirs, I asked the Lord a question while sitting in my mother’s chair.

ME AND MOTHER’S BOXES (excerpt)
By Lori A Alicea

Lord, is there anything among my mother’s things that you want to give me?

We didn’t grow up with riches, but we were rich in ways money could never afford. Any lose ends from the fray of my memory have been tied in a bow, leaving only good thoughts under the cloak of my childhood.Lori Siblings

I needed God to complete the sentence relationship of mother and me with not a “period”, but possibly a heart emoji, a kiss of the heart, or a gift of affection.

Sixty-five boxes in total. I held in my hands the last remaining treasure among mother’s sixty-five boxes.
Boxes 3
An old jewelry box filled with mother’s mismatched pieces of costume necklaces, earrings, rings and broaches, jewelry I remember mother wearing vividly when I was growing up. A jewelry box displayed on her bedroom dresser, a familiar piece I cleaned for decades as mother’s housekeeper. I knew it well.

The hidden finds inside this jewelry box rewinds the 8mm collections of me as a child playing dress up with mother’s baubles and beads.

I sigh…I take a breath…There it was.

Like an old photograph buried in the dust of time prompting a double-take and closer view, I stopped in the moment to remember.

Held in my hands a gift from God, bewildered I hadn’t noticed it during my years as mother’s housekeeper, even more bewildered this gift was in plain sight during the packing.

A sweet sixteen present from her mother and father, A birthday celebration for my mother, A beautiful watch with the inscription and sentiment I had never read before, “To Our Loving Daughter”.

Beholding this gift up close I knew without question, God didn’t want to give me treasures, God wanted to give me words, God longed to breathe these words of affirmation upon my life, “To Our Loving Daughter.” Most endearing of all was the phrase, “To Our”, received as two people, my mother and father, my heavenly Father.

God redeemed our relationship symbolically with a watch (gift of time, my love language) that was given on my mother’s sweet 16 (about age I was when the incident with my step-father happened. The watch face was broken, but God redeemed my sweet 16 with the inscription on the other side.
Anniversary picture
ME AND MOTHER’S BOXES (excerpt ends)

I QUESTIONED MY FATHER’S LOVE FOR ME… (revisited)

Mining my life of rejection through the relationship with my father, God revealed to me how dad drew from a dry well and couldn’t quench my thirst for love and affirmation.

As an adult, I found enough grace for dad and his “lack to see me”. I soon questioned in secret, “What affirmations failed to be poured into that little boy’s life who one day became my dad?”

COMING TO TERMS OF ENDEARMENT (excerpt)
By Lori A Alicea

Aware through a cancer scare years prior to his actual graduation to heaven, I feared the uncertainty of his days and losing dad without him hearing how I felt.  So, after Thanksgiving one year, I decided to surrender in an advent calendar, titling it “Twenty Five Things My Dad Did Right”.

As a parent myself I strive to give my kids the best of me, though acknowledging I’ve made my share of mistakes.  Having grace for his, I decided for every day leading up to December 25, I’d give dad a gift of my appreciation.

Opening up a daughters treasure chest, I wondered if there were 25 memories tucked away.  But in turning the key to my heart, I marveled at what I had saved.

Like running into the kitchen each Sunday afternoon from church, faithfully finding that one piece of toast dad hadn’t eaten for breakfast.  I always believed he left it for me.

Or realizing after graduating from high school and college just how smart dad really was, though never receiving either diploma.  Dad could fix anything, and I truly admired that.

How could I forget dad adoring me in my wedding dress, setting aside his pain as we had buried grandma earlier that morning.

Christmas, when it came, dad declared he’d received the best gift of his life, presenting the advent calendar to us all.  “Tis the season” as dad seemed to stand a little taller, dad seemed to come to life.

The bells of Christmas rang a new message for me that year.  Maybe dad was never daddies little boy and couldn’t give me a love he hadn’t known.  When dad came to life that holiday season, I believe this little girl did the same.

COMING TO TERMS OF ENDEARMENT (excerpt end)

Weeks leading up to my father’s passing, I kept thinking of Jacob’s story from the Bible who gathered his sons around the death bed where he blessed them individually.

I also longed a father’s blessing.
dads house 4
A FATHER’S BLESSING (excerpt)
By Lori A Alicea

Bless me father.”

Oh, that you would bless me.”

Visiting dad for what would be my last day to see him alive and heartbroken over dad’s visible frailty and sagging T-shirt hanging over his protruding bones, I began to lose hope of a Father’s Blessing. But unbeknownst to me, a blessing awaits its reveal.

There’s one fact I’m certain about God my heavenly father, he loves his little girls. No matter her age, weight, social status, marital status, degrees or lack thereof, etc., God is smitten with his girls.

God smitten with “this little girl” heard my prayer that summer and answered me days before my father’s death in a small but impactful way; not at my father’s bedside, but kitchen table instead.

God’s choice of the kitchen table for a Father’s Blessing tied years of my fondest memories, as at this table dad handed out our Christmas gifts each December.  I loved that my heavenly father chose this memory backdrop and used the same chair dad sat in for years during our Christmas exchanges to bless me.
xmas at dads
Seated around the table were me and my dad, my step-sister and dad’s caregiver. Just having small talk, dad asked his caregiver to help him up and assist dad to his room. Back in his seat, dad handed me a framed letter and asked, “Would you please read this to me?”

Not a crier by nature, I fought to compose myself when dad asked me to read a Father’s Day gift I gave him a year ago. Always drawing a blank when buying dad’s gifts, that Father’s Day I felt led from God to honor my dad’s military service; a conversation we never had; but I never asked either.

Accompanied with a flag that Father’s Day, I never seen dad so emotional.

We are told by God to give Honor to whom honor is due. (Romans 13:7)

Honor was due my father; an accumulation of years due.

These same framed words dad gave back to me and asked me to read at his funeral.
IMG_3715Dear Dad,

For 54 years I have celebrated you as my dad and all that you have sacrificed and contributed to my life. You have been a great provider. You have protected me when I have needed you to. You are always a phone call away. And you have been a friend throughout the years.

But the one attribute of my father that I have not celebrated until today is your service in the military. Until I became a mom with a son serving in the military, did I fully appreciate the sacrifices of a member in the military.

I am sad to say I know nothing about your time in the navy, but that’s because I never asked. But I do know you actively served, and for that, I salute you today and thank you for

SERVING YOUR COUNTRY FOR OUR FREEDOM.

I am giving you this gift as my way of saying thank you for your service.

Happy Father’s Day

Love, Lori and David

You may be wondering, “Is that it! Is that your Father’s Blessing?”

The true Father’s Blessing revealed itself during the packing up of dad’s house.

Sadly dad “said a lot again” when we kids realized there wasn’t a single picture, card or memento saved and left behind of dad’s six kids, or crowd of grand-kids and great-grand-kids. Not one.

Except the letter of mine that dad framed and hung in the entrance of his room.

I won’t add to dad’s heart as his heart was a locked door for most of our relationship. But a Father’s Day present became a Father’s Day Blessing that summer of 2016.

An added bonus discovered deep in my father’s attic was his old fashioned lunch pail, a true treasure I kept to remind myself what a “standard of excellence” looks like.
IMG_3716
Dad was buried with Military Honors. In death our father received the military honor due him in life.

During the years that an earthly father “didn’t see” her, a little girl;

A heavenly father couldn’t take His eyes off of her.

A Father’s Blessing I am truly aware of when I sleep and when I slumber.

If God gives such attention to the wildflowers, most of them never even seen, don’t you think he’ll attend to you, take pride in you, do his best for you? Luke 12:28 Message

A FATHER’S BLESSING (excerpt end)

WHAT’S WRONG WITH ME?

I’ve been asking this question most of my life to myself, but sadly, I never inquired of the Lord.

The Father answers a daughter’s question, though not with rebuke, but with love and gentleness as a good daddy does.

“Daughter, you been asking the wrong question all these years.  Instead, I long you to ask of your Father, WHO AM I IN CHRIST?  And then He answers…

THE GOD WHO SEES (excerpt)
By Lori A Alicea

You knit me in my mother’s womb,
And wonderfully I’m made.
Created me so fearfully,
The days you watched, you stayed.

Not hidden in this secret place,
Your works, I praise for these.
Your eyes they saw my unformed self,
You are the God who sees.

How precious are your thoughts of me,
More than the grains of sand.
My days are written in your book,
One mind can’t understand.

You see me when I sleep at night,
You see when I’m awake.
You are the God who sees it all,
You see each breath I take.

Yes, I am yours and you are mine,
My heart, you have the keys.
You’ve drawn me Oh Beloved One,
You are the God who sees.

Psalms 139; Genesis 16:13; Solomon 6:3

I have grown into a woman fully aware of the love God has for me.

I have loved you with an everlasting love;

I have drawn you with loving kindness. Jeremiah 31:3

So, what about that red hair, green eyes and face full of freckles?
ALICEA David Lori
I asked the question years later in my life, and it’s amazing when you ask the simple questions God longs to hear, the answers He generously gives.

Our good Father whispered and pointed to the mirror of my reflection:

Oh daughter, your red hair is a gift from me; only 2% of little girls are strawberry blonde; red hair with green eyes are even more uncommon.

And those freckles…God leans in close to tell me a secret…

Your mother told you those freckles were kisses from the S U N.

Well actually, your freckles are sweet kisses from my S O N.

All grown up when I could have changed my hair to any color in the rainbow, I kept the gift God gave me…
David and Lori together 3
Yes, God is so good to me.  As a child I sang in Sunday School those exact words:

GOD IS SO GOOD
By Paul Makai
God is so good.
God is so good.
God is so good.
He’s so good to me.

God is a good Father to all His children.  He longs for His sons and daughters to climb on His lap and lean into His love.

He even blessed me with a Cinderella love story in marriage nearly twenty-nine years ago. wedding all kids

At our 25th Anniversary Wedding Vow Renewal we sang the words of a good and faithful God:

The faithfulness and goodness of God has followed me my whole life.  The faithfulness and goodness of God has followed you too.

I want my daughters and granddaughters and girls and women alike to rejoice in the God who made them fearfully and wonderfully…

Missing teeth and all…

THE GOD WHO SEES (excerpt ends)

Rosalee praising Jesus

Thank you to everyone who found a seat on this tour and “lifted me up” with your presence as my honored guest.

It was in the turning and sharing of these tear stained pages of my story that I might give hope to someone else who suffers in silence.

What was intended for my harm, God turned it around and used it for my good.  (Genesis 50:20)

WHAT’S WRONG WITH ME? By Lori A Alicea (Part 1 of 3)

Discovering those beautiful diamonds of God’s goodness and faithfulness while mining my rejection!

PART 1 OF 3

One summer morning a few years ago, I was honored to speak to a young mother’s group at my church called Just Among Moms.

Wanting to minister to a place of relevance with these nursing mothers who were much younger than my daughters, I went to my knees in prayer for divine direction from God.

Not wanting to go THERE and open up those old dusty chapters of my life’s story,

Yet God reminded me of His freedom and power to others
By the word of our testimony
(Revelations 12:11 NIV)

Hence the title of my message to those young mothers hungry for a NOW word from God:

WHAT’S WRONG WITH ME?
Discovering the beautiful diamonds of God’s goodness and faithfulness
While mining my rejection!
By Lori A Alicea

Together, we are taking a tour down the streets and sights of my life from the perspective as I saw and experienced them dating back to before I was ever born.

I will introduce you to the joys and sorrows, the highs and lows, and the valleys and oh the gorgeous mountain tops of my experiences growing up.

You will discover soon enough how the treacherous travels through the valleys can leave you stranded if you’re not willing to continue the journey and walk in the steps God has ordained for our life.

Because you see, there is always a bigger picture to our story.

There is a VICTORY LAP to take with God as our tour guide if we are willing to stay seated, who will give us the breathtaking Birdseye view of our life from beginning to end, a storybook filled from cover to cover, with pages authored and written with the pen in His hand, telling of His goodness and faithfulness thru our own personal story.

Ready or not!!!
All aboard!

The time is now to take our seats on the bus.

If my husband only knew I was driving for this tour he would tell you all to

Get out while you can!”

Because when I drive…

The air conditioner can be cooling…

But the windows are rolled down also,

Allowing the fresh air to blow thru our hair.

Seat belts must be fastened.

Hands stay inside the vehicle (per the safety police).

Cell phones off and quality time is on.

Enjoy your coffee, hold hands, and be at peace…

I stop for every rest area we see.

WHAT’S WRONG WITH ME?

Questions I’ve been asking and struggling with for more than 40 years of my life.

Questions God will answer as our tour guide on the VICTORY LAP.

One of my favorite songs I remember singing as a child seated on the pews of the old country church my mother took us to was Blessed Assurance, especially when getting to the chorus…

BLESSED ASSURANCE
This is My Story
Written by Fanny Crosby
Composer Phoebe Knapp

This is my story, this is my song,
Praising my Savior all the day
This is my story, this is my song,
Praising my Savior all the day long.

I praise the Lord with my song…

This is My Story…

THE SIGHTS OF GROWING UP

My mother’s life began among the stained glass windows and church pews where her own mother played piano. A surrendered life to God in salvation and baptism would be the spark that set Kingdom brush fires in the hearts of her future children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren, only to set aflame those generations beyond her life.

Now, growing up in a family of six children, my mother passed on her old fashioned, spiritual heritage to us; the pews, the stain glassed windows, and hymns we’ve treasured throughout our lives.

My heart still leaps when I hear The Old Rugged Cross, How Great Thou Art, and I Surrender All played from the piano during worship at church. These songs never collect dust or lose their power. They resurrect that old reminder that God never changes; He is good and faithful yesterday, today, and forever.

So many questions though…

I questioned how God made me as a young first grader.

THE GOD WHO SEES (excerpt)
By Lori A Alicea

As a first grader I remember it all too well.

Maybe a bit dramatic for a little girl that young, but my emotions were real and tucked away in the jewelry box of a child’s heart for years.

I’ve never looked at myself through the lens of vanity, but I noticed early on that girls with more friends than me were blonde, blue eyed with creamy, clear skin.

I faced the mirror with red hair, green eyes and a face full of freckles; and as a student in the first grade, I also confronted my reflection, weeping from the sight of a few missing teeth.
Lori little 3

Kids are cruel to each other, especially when your hair is red, or strawberry blonde as they called it back then, with green eyes and freckles to match.SCHOOL Paul Saylor Elementary

As a young girl I sobbed an ocean many times before the Lord,

Why did you make me this way?”

But God is a God who sees.

You are the God who sees me.
Genesis 16:13

I didn’t understand at this early age how I was fearfully and wonderfully made, formed and created in the perfect image of God; who kept a nine month vigil while knitted in my mother’s womb.
(Psalm 139)

Yes, God is a God who sees; whose fatherly love dried the eyes of His daughter when she least expected it.

THE GOD WHO SEES (excerpt end)

I questioned my earthly father’s love.

A FATHER’S BLESSING (excerpt)
By Lori A Alicea

I am the daughter of a navy seamen.

Dad never abandoned his six kids and that said a lot.

Dad worked hard and provided well with his two jobs; one at the mill and the other a mechanic at home; usually seven days each week.Midwest Steel

Our cupboards were full and we as a family never lacked. Dad lived only what he knew; to work hard. What dad didn’t know though that while appreciative of his hand, I desperately wanted his time and his heart instead.

As a little girl I needed a daddy to tie ribbons in my hair, to hold me in his lap, to tuck me in at night, and when I grew up, to dance with me at my wedding.

While I believe my father did his very best and I never dishonored him for where he lacked, it just made it difficult in my life to relate to him and Daddy God.

The sun-up, sun-down hours my father worked took its toll on a lonely young girl longing for his attention. Watching my father from the kitchen window looking into the garage where he worked as a mechanic for a second source of income, I always wished my dad would take a day off and spend it with me.

A FATHER’S BLESSING (excerpt end)

WHAT’S WRONG WITH ME?

Parts 2 and 3 TO BE CONTINUED…

BENCHED!  By Lori A Alicea

We’ve all served time on the bench.

Whether we’d like to admit it or not,
We’ve taken our place at some point in our life on the bench…

When we didn’t get the promotion…

When somebody else got the job…

When we didn’t make the team…

When we didn’t get the part in the play…

When we were overlooked…

When we were miscalculated…

When we were misunderstood…

Each sending us to the bench with unanswered questions of why?IMG_2582

The bench became a familiar place on the field of my writing career very early in life.

I shared a few innings with the crowd in the stands back then…

STEPPING INTO YOUR FULL BLOOM (excerpt)
By Lori A Alicea

I’ve had a love affair with words my whole life.

From an elementary age I began authoring short stories, poetry, and creating homemade cards for my mother on her birthday and Mother’s Day.

Teachers honored my early writing efforts with epic FAILS on my assignments believing I had copied my work. As a child I didn’t understand it nor did they understand the tears of a young girl attempting to bloom.USE THIS FLOWERS

The defeating words and bad calls from my childhood teachers benched my spirit before I was ever drafted to the team.USE THIS BENCH

But now as an adult I realized God was validating a writer’s call through the blind eyes of my teachers.

(end excerpt…)

Thankfully, God brought someone in my life who shared a love and passion for the game of writing; my older sister Belinda.

We spurred and encouraged one another for years to take our step of faith and try out for the team.

Sitting the bench before the draft ever took place; we dreamed about our books and promised to each other with an oath that we would write.

The innings continue in the game of my writing career…

BURIED DREAMS (excerpt)
By Lori Alicea

My sister Belinda and I loved to write.

Our affection for words and the impact they had on others led to many conversations about the books we wanted to write.

Belinda being sick most of her life, her biggest dream was to write of her Lupus journey, detailing the highways and byways, dead-ends and disappointments, and signs and wonders during her time in the trenches, battling the disease.

Without question, Belinda knew God wanted to use her story to encourage others whose hourglass of hope seemed to be running out of sand. Belinda had a story to write; she had a song to sing. Yet she put it off for tomorrow, though sadly, tomorrow didn’t come when God called her home on August 3, 2004; she was only 44 years old.Belinda's grave

Her untimely departure is our wake up call to:

Number our days that we might gain a heart of wisdom.
Psalms 90:12 NIV

None of us is guaranteed tomorrow.

You do not even know what will happen tomorrow.
What is your life?
You are a mist that appears for a little while then vanishes.
James 4:14 NIV

Months after her death, I honored our promise to each other to write a bi-monthly column in the local newspaper titled “Little Things.” The hope of my opportunity would be to encourage others to look at the little things before them; God’s reminder how full the baskets of our lives truly are.

A column also written to draw attention to the roses, our garden of the simple, the seemingly insignificant, yet the wonderment to discover if you allow its beauty to entice your curiosity to stop and smell them.

A column is born,
Little Things.”

(excerpt from

A BIRTH ANNOUNCEMENT
By Lori A AliceaColumn pictures

Sadly, that opportunity ended after eight short months and the newspapers rejection letter had me questioning if I really had anything to say after all.

(excerpt is paused…)

Being taken out of the game with so few attempts at the plate, and now warming the bench for however many unknown innings crushed my spirit as the game continued to play out in front of me.

But yet, you endure to trust God; you give Him glory in our lack of understanding.

You warm the bench as unto the Lord.

However difficult, you encourage from the bench.

You smile until your heart catches up with your face from the bench.

You remind yourself from a quote taken from the movie:

Facing the Giants
By Alex and Stephen Kendrick

If we win, we praise Him.
If we lose, we praise Him.
Either way,
We honor Him with our actions and our attitudes.

Even while you’re benched.IMG_2582

Sadly, I quit the team from the bench; even though God did not give me permission to remove myself from the roster.

(excerpt continues…)

Fourteen years later and the pages of my book remained blank. I immersed myself in event decorating to detour my creativity from the pen. I avoided conversations that might question my writing status, yet God’s voice and whispers can’t be silenced and His “pricks of my heart” for those waiting for my words kept me uncomfortable.

Six years ago we moved to a town with its own country cemetery. Day after day passing this small plot of buried loved ones, I thought of my sister often and her unfinished book as well as mine. Becoming more evident as I neared retirement age, I would also:

Die with the music still in me…
Oliver Wendell Holmes

If I refused to tell my story.

CROPPED ONEIf I refused to answer the call on my life.

I had to come to the end of myself and wave the white flag of surrender to God. No more idling. I put my car of writing into gear and engaged the GPS wherever my call would lead.

I desperately prayed the cry of my heart:

Lord, forgive me for the years I have squandered and redeem what has been lost. Breathe new life into the dream you dreamed for me before I was ever born.”

No one is ever too young; no one ever too old to be used by God.

There isn’t a dream too dusty to be taken off the shelf and watch it explode in “fireworks finale fashion” before your eyes.

It just takes a burning desire to want what God wants for us, which is our passion and surrendered heart to enlist back into His army to win the Kingdom war using our dreams. In the end when our tour of duty is finished, we can proudly stand before our General and say,

I have brought you glory on earth by completing the work you gave me to do.”
John 17:4 NIV

Lord, burn a flame in me.”

I’m leaving the bench…”

I’m warming up to take my rightful place at the plate.”

I’m saying YES TO MY CALL.”IMG_2583

Hence, the birth of this weekly blog titled Apples of Gold Encouragement.

I’m getting back in the game.IMG_2584

Reflecting back in 2004 as I arrived in Tennessee a few days before my sister’s funeral, I inquired of my niece if her mother left anything behind she wanted me to see. My niece remembering her mother and our love for words gave me the Acknowledgements and the only page of the book my sister began to give birth to.

My sister kept her promise to write.

Being asked to speak at my sister’s Home Going Celebration, I thought it fitting and proved to be powerful, to read the Acknowledgements, those loved ones she gave thanks to while journeying those grueling miles battling Lupus.

(excerpt ends…)

As I face the mirror as a sixty-two year old writer with oceans of words yet to be spoken; the waves which dance to remind me of the paragraphs, the stories, and poetic songs still making their way to shore.

While my name hasn’t taken its place on the New York Times best seller list as of yet, I am reminded though…

A man’s gift makes room for him and brings him before great men.
Proverbs 18:16 AMP

If my gift makes room for me on the field or on the bench, it is irrelevant where I play when God is the coach, as He knows what’s best for the team.

From the Will and Testament of my life I have bequeathed my family heirs an inheritance of words inspired by the Lord and lived out in my earthly years as an encouragement in their glove to hold onto in the innings of their own personal game.

I pray the generations beyond my life find their position on the field wherever God has placed and called them.

Even during the times of trusting while sitting on the bench.USE THIS BENCH