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Storyteller

God is the Master Storyteller.

He writes good lines, thinks long-term, and fills up our books with chapters unimaginable to us on the front side of their unfolding.

Don’t believe me? Well, let me tell you a story…

There is a memory I am holding today. It’s a bit shadowy around the edges as I was only 5 or 6 years old, but with clarity I recall the scene; in particular, I remember the person – a boy named “K.” K and I attended the same church with our parents and often found ourselves around a table in a Sunday School classroom.

On this particular Sunday morning, I met K for the first time. He was energetic, happy and full of joy. I sensed that he was somehow different from the rest of us, but no one seemed to mind. I would grow in my understanding of K over the years regarding his uniqueness as well as his challenges. As we grew older, I saw him less, understanding that his life and mine would never walk the same path forward – that our childhood connection would remain solidly fixed in my memories with an occasional present-day rumination about his current whereabouts.

I wonder what ever happened to K?

Well, I know what happened to K.

Fast forward through fifty years of living. Through moves – nine relocations in three states. Through marriages. Through babies. Through graduations. Through college drop offs. Through two extraordinary daughters-in-law. Through grandkids. Through disease. Through the trauma of almost losing a child – a son named Jadon. All the way through to this moment, to today.

This is where I hit the pause button, because it is now when the lines of God’s story get really interesting.

Tonight, my son Jadon will walk to K’s house, sit around his table for an evening, break bread with him and begin a journey as companions – a friendship (once removed) that began 50 years ago with K and I in a Sunday school classroom, dancing around in circles.

Six months ago, Billy and I took Jadon to Wilmore, KY, and dropped him off to begin his seminary training at Asbury. Our hearts remain tender with the separation. Our hearts also overflow with joy knowing that Jadon is where he needs to be to continue his journey in a place that holds everlasting significance for me.

My dad was a professor at Asbury Seminary, beginning in 1970 and continuing for over 40 years. My mother? The registrar at Asbury Seminary. My husband? A graduate of Asbury Seminary. I cut my spiritual teeth running the hallways of that hallowed institution, along with the hallways of the Wilmore United Methodist Church (the church where Jadon is now the youth pastor). What was sown and grown inside of me in that season is a history that continues to write the lines of my present-day story. Deeply so.

Not long ago, a college friend who is closely connected to K’s family reached out to me about Jadon’s possible interest in working with K. Throughout the years, she and I have kept in touch through social media; she closely followed along with Jadon’s miraculous recovery from a 2018 traumatic brain injury. After a few conversations with her, an initial meeting with K and some further training, Jadon begins in his new role this evening.

And I am caught in the moment, in the magic and mystery of God’s story-telling skills.

Fifty years ago, I danced around a Sunday school classroom with K. And God looked on. I wondered if he smiled and thought…

Just wait, Elaine, about fifty years from now. Have I got a story to tell you!

Funny how our lives write the witness of God’s faithfulness … glorious really. How what we cannot see now … imagine now … is but the heavenly word bank from which the Master Storyteller chooses the words to write an eternal, best-seller.

God is faithful. He will not leave our stories unfinished without a witness. He’s watching from a far, maybe even smiling because…

He knows what he is doing. He knows how to weave our past into our future in beautiful measure. Maybe there’s strength in that truth for you tonight. Keep rehearsing your history with God and looking for all the ways that your former steps inform your current ones.

Rest alongside the Storyteller. He who began a very good work in you is faithful to complete it. Trust Him for the finish.

Word has it that endings are his specialty. As always…

Peace for the journey,

A Silver Celebration

I like growing old alongside Billy.

That’s what I told a friend not long ago. I’ve not always thought about our life together with such sentimentality. Twenty-five years ago, growing old wasn’t on my radar. I was just a bride walking down the aisle toward the man and toward a future that could not be predicted, only lived out with the belief that marriage was, in fact, a good decision for me and my two sons.

Of course, there were plenty of folks in the room validating our choice – a cacophony of voices rooting for us from the sidelines, along with Dr. Ellsworth Kalas awaiting our arrival at the end of the aisle. What a gift he gave us that day, validating our budding love by reminding us of a wedding in Cana where the best wine was saved for last! But there were other voices as well in that season … a few who dared to share their concerns. There was the well-meaning friend who stopped by my office one afternoon and likened our courtship to a combination of peanut butter and cheese, an odd coupling. And then there was the well-respected professor who refused to counsel us because he had already decided that Billy and I, as a couple, were not marriage material.

Twenty-five years of marriage have a way of dulling the naysayers. Today we laugh at the memory. I confess, though, that in those beginning days of solidifying our union, I probably gave those well-meaning voices too much rental space in my mind. At times, Billy and I were an odd coupling, struggling to build a life together on nothing more than the firm covenant we had made to one another, to God, and to our boys on that sultry July afternoon at the altar of First Methodist Church in Lexington, KY.

Emotions weren’t enough to carry us through to this moment – a silver wedding anniversary. Covenant-keeping was.

And today, twenty-five years down the road, Billy and I are growing old together in a most beautiful way – a well-respected love tethered by a long season of deliberate choices that have weathered us, tested us and, ultimately, elevated us to a place of surety, strength, and safety. My gut tells me we’re going to lean heavily into that strength in the season to come; seems like a few clouds might be gathering on the horizon. 

Come what may, one of the things I hold most certain and close in my heart (perhaps the benefit of twenty-five years of covenant-keeping) – for as long as I am allowed, I will walk forward with my hand in Billy’s. He is my home. For better or worse, for richer and for poorer, in sickness and health, for as long as we both shall live.

We’re a team, Billy Olsen, and I am honored and blessed to be your aging bride.

I really do like growing old alongside you.

Happy Anniversary,

Background Music by Bebo Norman – “A Page is Turned” 

What Worked For Us (how advanced planning helped my family) – UPDATED

UPDATED INFORMATION (1.9.2022)

Since I first wrote this post in September 2021 – there have been many newsworthy updates regarding all things COVID related. I will add some of those updates here.

To see the latest information from Dr. Peter McCullough  – please click on following video link posted January 9th. Dr. McCullough was presenting at the Health and Liberty Alliance Conference. CLICK HERE TO WATCH.

Dr. McCullough’s now patented protocol can be downloaded by CLICKING HERE.

Peace to you, friends. I pray that you are well. Spiritually. Physically. Mentally. In all the ways that truly matter.

Your well-being matters to me. Accordingly, tonight I feel led to go somewhere that I’ve been somewhat hesitant to go in recent days. I won’t go into the reasons for my hesitancy. You know them already. One doesn’t have to go looking to find division in this season. Division, instead, finds us.

The soil beneath our feet is ripe for discord.

And so, I tread lightly and tenderly on this patch of dirt I am about to unearth.

On February 28th of this year, Jadon tested positive for C19. On July 30, 2021, Billy tested positive. Three days later, Amelia tested positive.

Over the course of their illnesses (each one with varying degrees of symptoms – Billy being the worst), I masked up and tended to their multiple needs while following a carefully researched course of protocol developed by Dr. Peter McCullough. Months before, I had pre-emptively prepared for such a time as this. Through the help of Dr. McCullough and America’s Frontline Doctors, I had both the protocol and the meds on hand to treat this virus at home. The goal was to keep all of us out of the hospital.

Thankfully, that goal was achieved.

In the last week, with the rise of the new variant related to C19, I know of many people who have also received a positive diagnosis. Folks who have previously been hesitant to speak with me about all things pertaining to C19 have now begun asking questions. A lot of those inquiries pertain to the protocol we used as a family.

As the lone hold-out in our household for not having been diagnosed with C19, I continue to daily follow the protocol prophylactically.

And so, I give you this information as a way of coming alongside you in this time of great flux. I am not a medical doctor, but Dr. Peter McCullough is one of the most peer-reviewed, published doctors on the topic of C19. I won’t load you down with his credentials. You should do the research yourself. That’s what any responsible person would do in a situation as serious as this one. Personally, I think he should be nominated for a Nobel Peace Prize, but that is my bias. History will write the witness of just exactly how valuable and noble his efforts to treat this virus have been.

Incalculable is the word that comes to mind.

There are literally dozens of current videos featuring Dr. McCullough. I’m posting his most recent one, in which he adds a new recommendation to his nutraceutical bundle – povidone iodine to cleanse the pharyngeal passages.

To download your own copy of Dr. McCullough’s treatment protocol, visit the website Truth for Health by clicking here.

To view his recent interview with Dr. Peter Breggin, click here.

Dr. McCullough’s protocol, along with a similar protocol by Dr. Zelenko, have been used effectively by countless patients across the globe for early treatment of C19. Three of those patients I call family – Billy, Jadon, and Amelia. I am eternally grateful for the mission and work of these frontline heroes. Perhaps their knowledge may be of some benefit to you and your family going forward. As always…

Peace for the journey,

PS: Comments are closed on this post. If you’d like to be in touch, please send me an email. 

Main Street USA

I saw a man today. Actually, I heard him before I saw him.

That happens when you work on Main Street USA … you hear things. The loud squeal of breaks as a semi stops for the red light. Laughter of the ladies passing by on their way to the dress shop. Not so private phone calls of folks who’ve forgotten there’s only a pane of glass between them and me. An occasional solitary soul conversing loudly with herself. The gregarious shop owner across the street who greets her customers as friends.

Yes, life is noisy on Main Street USA, and for the past nine months, I’ve collected a lot of town secrets. I’m tempted to say I’ve heard it all. At least I thought I had …

Until today. Until he walked by.

He had on a feed sack, cinched at the waist. Long hair tucked haphazardly beneath a toboggan. He carried a megaphone. Greater still, he carried a burden.

“Repent for the kingdom of heaven is near.”

He followed it up with scripture and other words, but it was these that stuck with me.

Quietly I collected the tears in my hands while whispering, “Just like the prophets of old … like John at the Jordan.” Instead of thinking him daft, I thought of him with wonder … with wishing that I could be brave, could stop what I was doing and join him on the road of repentance. To come alongside him in his grief. To cry out for a nation that has clearly lost its way. On his return trip down the opposite side of Main Street USA, I snapped a picture and heard him exclaim to the curious,

“I love my country. I care about what’s happening in our country. Repent for the kingdom of heaven is near.”

And I was broken into pieces for I, too, love my country and deeply feel its fracture tonight.

I don’t know how to fix it; I’m not even certain that I want to take on such burden. But what I do know is that, for a few hours today, my heart was completely willing to trade in my khakis and soft sweater for the scratchiness of sackcloth.

It seems the best course of action for the rancor on Main Street USA this evening.

Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is near.

Surely it won’t be long in coming … the kingdom.

Repentance is our only way forward; it’s the only way home.

May God in his mercy give us enough time to get it right.

a letter to my grand-girl

Dear Grand-girl (aka ‘Lil Miss Woods),

I’ve been thinking a long time about what kind of gift I could give you on your birthday – that very first day when you emerge from the safety of your darkened cocoon into the explosive light of the world you’ll soon call home. Another pink “welcome to the world” onesie, along with a matching “I’m the Grandma” t-shirt doesn’t quite fit the moment, so I think I’ll take a pass on those at this time. (But at some point, don’t be surprised if I’m decorated from head to toe in granny wear, a trait for which you can thank the Olsen side of your family tree. They love a good party and any occasion that allows them to dress up the moment with lavish expressions of wonderment and love.)

No, at this time in your life you don’t need more things to clutter your thinking. Instead, what you most need is the steady and certain love of a family that will never let you go–long and wide and high and deep stretches from the arms that will cradle your beginning and that will carry you forward for the rest of your life.

You’ve got that in us. We’re a sturdy bunch, a motley crew of misfits at times, but a crew strengthened and ready for your road ahead. Why ready? Well, we’ve spent our entire lives growing up so that we might better help you to do the same. Every single one of us have labored and strived all the days of our lives beneath the light and shadow of the Almighty–the Father who has knit you together in your precious momma’s womb. We’ve lived with God. We’ve walked with God. We’ve worked on our faith, and we know to whom we belong. God’s arms are the ones now cradling you in safety. Soon he’ll delivery you into ours. What mystery! What trust! What grace!

As your grandmother, I won’t always be ringside for some of your milestones. I’ll probably miss a lot of them, and I’m mostly OK with that. Those moments belong to you and your parents. And I know they’ll be great ones because I, too, have sat ringside to every milestone of the four kids God has entrusted me to raise … your dad, Nick, your Uncle Colton, your Uncle Jadon, and your Aunt Amelia. Their baptisms, their birthdays, their ballgames, their recitals, their break ups, their first days of driving, their graduations, their marriages, their tears, their fears. Their successes and their occasional failures. Their questions, their doubts, and their settled conclusions. It’s all been on a learning curve for me as a mom, but it has been and will remain the most exceptional privilege of my fifty-three years on this earth.

Wanna know a little secret about your dad? He made me a mom on April 11, 1989, the day after my 23rd birthday. He arrived two weeks prior to his due-date. I knew nothing about being a parent. Zilch. I had a lot of growing up to do myself, and for the last thirty years, I like to say that your dad and I have been growing up together. As he was learning to walk as a toddler, I was learning the fine art of walking as a mom. I still am.

And now, because of you, your parents will have the delicate and delightful privilege of further personal growth because they’ll grow alongside you. You will teach them their parenting skills. God has hand-picked you … entrusted you … as their training manual, and I am not one bit worried about their qualifications. They are rock stars.

Your dad is strong, thoughtful, courageous, contemplative, passionate, faithful, a gifted communicator, and he is truthful (perhaps one of the qualities I admire most about him). A person of truth is a person unafraid of exposure. It takes a long time to cultivate that kind of integrity (some of us spend our entire lives endeavoring to get there), but your dad seemed to be born with a generous portion of it in his DNA. He can’t help but tell the truth, even when it costs him some of his pride (and he’s got a lot of that too, but you’ll help him with that). He will never leave you. He is devoted to you and to your mom. And because Nick’s not a time waster, I always said that he would marry the first woman he seriously dated because he wasn’t going to prattle away a single moment on a girl he hadn’t already decided was worth the investment. I was right.

To give his heart wholeheartedly to one woman, your mom, is one of the greatest gifts he’s already given you. But even more important than his devotion to your mother, your father is devoted to your Creator, and beneath that light and shadow, he will carefully guard his own deposit of faith entrusted to him at an early age so that, in time, you’ll be collecting a faith your own.

As a mom, I have learned this most important truth, and now as your grandmother, I will endeavor to live it out more fully:

My job, my legacy, is to drop enough breadcrumbs of faith along the trodden path of this life so that all of my children, that you and the other grand-girls and grand-boys who will eventually fill up our family tree, can safely find your way home … back into the hands of the One who authored your life and who promises to perfect it.

And now, a word or two about your mom. I don’t know her nearly as well as I know your dad, but in the short time we’ve done life together, I am solidly convinced about her character and her commitment to raise you up with deep roots. Your mom’s strength is equal to your dad’s. She’s a home-grown, home-town girl whose sense of family anchors deeply within that Appalachian soil where she took her first steps. She’s smart (I mean really smart – she’s a professor with a PhD and everything and can produce an academic paper worthy of publication as easily as she drinks a cup of water). She’s clever, witty and can hold her own when it comes to matching wills with your father. She’s quiet, but when she speaks, we listen in because we know we’re going to get something more, another little piece of the puzzle that tells us who she is. I imagine that in these days of growing up alongside you, your mom will reveal even bigger pieces of her story to us, and I think those revelations will blow our minds. She’ll be the doorkeeper of your home, closely guarding who’s coming in and even more so, your going out. She’s a secret-keeper, and while I’m on the complete opposite end of that spectrum, I think her ability to hold things more closely to her heart (to not vocally share every blessed thought that comes into her mind) will help you to learn how to govern your own thoughts, your words, your actions.

Both of your parents already love you unconditionally. The relationship that you share with them will probably be the most important, framed picture in your home, the best snapshot that captures how Jesus really does love us all … that agape love which puts “best interest over self- interest” (you can read all about that kind of loving in 1 Corinthians 13. Uncle Jadon will be happy to break it down for you. He loves God’s Word, and he’ll love answering all your questions). This kind of love is an important picture to hang in your heart, and it has been through this lens (this love that I have for my four children) that I have finally been able to grasp just an inkling of how much I am loved by God. Best interest over self-interest … the Calvary story. One I will tell you more about in coming days. Consider this letter the prologue. 

So sweet precious grand-girl, you who I have not yet seen with my eyes, you whose name has not yet been revealed to the world, I am at a better place of peace in my life because you are now in it. God has seen you. God knows your name, and very soon we’ll start writing the chapters of your life together. And when you can’t find the words to your story, I’ll help you look for them. When the chapters don’t make sense in isolation, I’ll remind you of the bigger picture … that all good stories have a clear beginning, a mostly muddled middle, and, ultimately, a grand conclusion. When the pen you’re holding in your hand loses its ink, when the well from which you draw the lines of your story seemingly dries up, come over to mine and borrow some. My well runs long and wide and high and deep. I’ll lend you my strength because this fragile world you’re entering into, the one where you will write your legacy, will require it. Don’t let that reality scare you. Instead, let it challenge you, embolden you, because this I promise you …

God has already given you everything you need to make it through this delicate dance called life. He’s given you the promise of his presence, and he’s given you the present of our presence. Presence is the best gift we can give you on the advent of your arrival. You’re one of us now. Your name has been carved into the family tree, smack dab in the middle of our names. Our signatures surround yours. We’ll watch over you, and by God’s grace, we’ll all leave a trail of breadcrumbs so that you might most clearly and most easily find your way home.

And as always, may God forever bestow upon you, over you and beneath you, before and behind you, his peace for the journey. There’s no better place to grow up. 

I love you,
Your granny

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