Suzanne Schaffer

 Zoey - August 10, 2020 When we found her I didn't realize I needed her. Sure, she needed us, she was living in woods, alone, surviving on whatever she could find. She was nine months old, the vet later told me when I took her in for a check-up, still unsure I wanted to keep this undernourished mutt. We'd been on vacation in southwest Missouri, near the Arkansas border, in the middle of the woods. I was on the porch when I saw her trotting down the dirt road. A little brown dog. I whistled and she stopped to look at me from across the lawn. Then she continued on her way. Later that night, the family was watching a movie we'd brought (no cable service out there!) and suddenly this furry face popped up in the window, scaring my husband out of his seat. We fed her some people food and went to bed.  She was still there in the morning. We asked around and no one knew where she came from. We fed her some more and she stayed. The next day we went and bought some dog food, flea and

As a young child I went through the dreaded allergy testing where they pricked my arms and back with different known allergens and waited for a reaction. My biggest reaction was to citrus foods, which crushed my mother as she'd always nursed every cold or sniffle with orange juice. I was okay knowing this was bad since I didn't like orange juice anyway.  So life went on. I could walk right by Orange Julius in the mall without any sorrow since orange wasn't my fave. But along came summer. And fresh-squeezed lemonade, served in big sizes at the county fair. I looked forward to that lemonade every summer and that one large cup never seemed to bother me. Hmmmm. Maybe I'm not allergic anymore , I thought, as I got older. I'd have a lemonade or two every summer, without reaction. Then I got brave and started making my own at home. I perfected it and a few years ago started buying lemons every year, late August, when I just ached for lemonade. I'd use one lemon a day a

In looking for something clean to watch on television, Wayne and I stumbled upon Bringing Up Bates . Raising nineteen children to love the Lord and to be productive members of society is a pretty big task, but this family does it well. We've binged the entire show and are now caught up. We love this family and can name them all.  We've watched the older children fall in love and get married and have children of their own. We've been in their homes (virtually). We've gone to parks with them (virtually). We've laughed with them and cried with them. We've even been in the delivery room when they are birthing.  Along with thousands of other people. I follow them on Instagram and Facebook. I sometimes catch them broadcasting live. I've browsed the Bates Sisters Boutique .  It's like I know them.  However, if I show up on their porch during a family party and expect to be welcomed I'll likely be banished. Perhaps even escorted off the

My mind wandered down paths I try to avoid, reaching into memories pushed aside. Assaulting me with reasons and questions and motives. I'm embarrassed to admit I spent more time on these paths than I normally do and the guilt and shame started creeping in.  I'm pretty good at shaking off the thoughts that try to hit me. I almost physically reach into my head and pull them out, throwing them to the ground and saying, "I will not think about that," deciding to think on other, better things.  But once in a while... Perhaps it's the forced time alone with the 2020 Corona Quarantine. Honesty had me admitting to friends this week that Corona has fear creeping at my doorstep. He's knocking and I'm trying to ignore him. Pretty sure he's circling my house, looking for a hole to slip into. He's a hard one to chase away. I turn off the news and avoid news websites. I focus on creating interesting meals and reading encouraging books. I pray. I fin

A friend loaned a book to me months ago, "I think you'll like this," she said, handing it to me. I put it on my bookshelf, not really interested in reading it, and let it sit there until I'd read through the books I'd deemed more important. I picked it up whilst in the middle of a social media fast and, on a quiet evening alone, began to read. It was entrancing. The words blended together like a symphony, producing the most beautiful mind images. Then I noticed that my friend had tucked a handwritten note inside. The note gave some background information on the author who (honestly I'd not even looked at who the author was) she said was a strong Christian woman and glorified God in all she said and did. Intrigued, I decided to read more on this woman and her family. A quick online search revealed that both she and her husband engaged in extramarital affairs, with him fathering children to two sisters. My brow furrowed when I read that they'd both

The speed at which my life is passing has quickened as I've grown older. Fifty. Ugh . It always seemed so old .  But what is age?  Just a number.  Once you become an adult you're you. Then you're just you with a little more knowledge and wisdom (hopefully). Experience is the best teacher. Not just experiencing bucket list goals, but experiencing the burns, the overextending, the insults, the deception, the betrayal. All that life offers us. As adults we strive to make the best life for our families that we can. We work the jobs, cook the meals, keep the house clean, and try to have an Instagram-worthy life. But are we missing the goal?  Before she was a Bible teacher and author, she was a Christian rock singer. Time mellowed her 80's synthesized beat and she yielded to worship ballads. A voice unlike any other at the time, I was a fan. In 1983 she released her second album, War of Love, and the last song has stayed in my head for decades.  God Put a