Thanks to all of you who visit my website. My offer of a free cancer survival book to a cancer patient who cannot afford to buy one still stands, as my Rich Father (as you know, my earthly one died before I was five) provides.

Hello, everyone! How was your year 2008? Mine was my worst ever in a lot of ways--and the best, thanks to God's amazing grace.

I lost my children, Jessica (16) and Jonathan (13) to a terrible divorce settlement. I have not seen them or had any contact in nearly 2 years (I don't have their phone number or emails; if I mail letters, they do not receive them; and my efforts to uphold court-ordered visitations have been completely blocked). I don't have money to hire a lawyer to rectify the situation.

Last week, for Christmas, I dropped off presents and little notes at Jonathan's school. The gifts ended up in the trash, but at least Jes & Jon saw the presents and read that I'm alive, love them, and have been trying to see them.

On April 1, I married Miguel, a kind, gentle man from Mexico who was trained to be a classical singer and guitar player at the University of Mexico City. We live in the California Mountains where we recently had 2 1/2 feet of snow--a White Christmas. We have 3 dogs and a parrot and enjoy walks in the forest.

In May, Miguel helped me to break an addiction to prescription medication (pain killers, anti-anxiety medication, mood stabilizers, sleep aids). I ended up in a hospital Intensive Care Unit, bleeding internally and needing 2 blood transfusions. I nearly died, but God is merciful and brought me through the Shadow of Death. I've been off all medication since then.

I suppose that is a big accomplishment in itself, though I have not been doing much writing, have been plagued with health problems, cannot presently work, and miss my children.

I've paid for my mistakes in the harshest manner, but still God's unexplainable JOY comes to me. This Christmas, I hope all who my story can celebrate simple things like sunlight shining on snow.

These words were written 700 years before Jesus was born:

"Therefore the Lord Himself will give you a sign: Behold, the virgin shall conceive and bear a Son, and shall call His name Immanuel." Isaiah 7:14

"For unto us a Child is born, unto us a Son is given; and the government will be upon His shoulder. And His name will be called Wonderful, Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace." Isaiah 9:6

And then we read about the Christmas story that happened over 2000 years ago:

"And she brought forth her firstborn Son, and wrapped Him in swaddling cloths, and laid Him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn. Now there were in the same country shepherds living out in the fields, keeping watch over their flock by night. And behold, an angel of the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were greatly afraid. Then the angel said to them, 'Do not be afraid, for behold, I bring you good tidings of great JOY which will be to all people. For there is born to you this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord. And this will be the sign to you: you will find a Babe wrapped in swaddling cloths, lying in a manger. And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God and saying: 'Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, goodwill toward men!'" Luke 2:7-14

May you know the Joy of Jesus this Christmas. Hope for a Christmas miracle as I do--to see my children again. God bless you all. Please email me your own stories of 2008.

Lonna

Thanksgiving, 2008

Because of my foolish flight to New Zealand with my two children in 2006 and my use of prescription medications, I lost (almost) everything.

As a cancer survivor with nerve damage from chemotherapy, I thought I was entitled to medication to make me numb to pain (I took pain medicine, anti-anxiety medicine, sleep aids, mood stabilizer, etc.). But there are worse pains than physical, and the body can adjust to amazing things without medication.

In August of 2007, I lost my car in an accident where I fell asleep at the wheel and rolled off the mountain at night. I lost the beauty of my right hand that needed 60 stitches, and the normal use of my back (which hurts all the time). I got a DUI, had to go to court, have my driving license suspended, pay huge fines, take a DUI class for 4 months, and be on probation for 3 years.

I also lost my lovely mountain home in the divorce battle with my ex-husband (he had a lawyer, and I did not). I lost all my family heirlooms and presents given to me by my children. I had packed my own treasures and sent them to New Zealand where I stupidly fled with my two youngest children, Jessica (now 16) and Jonathan (now 13). I could not afford to bring the stuff back to America when the children and I were forced to return, so it was all thrown in the trash.

Worst of all, I lost custody of Jessica and Jonathan (I pathetically tried to represent myself in court a year ago while still on medication). I have not seen Jessica or Jonathan or had any contact with them in a year and a half, though they live on the same mountain. This loss feels as though it could kill me . . .

The good news is that I got married again to a caring, sweet musician from Mexico, named Miguel. He helped me get off ALL medication last May. So for 6 months I have been completely sober--better able to realize my past mistakes, regrets, and loss . . . but free from drug control.

And my two oldest children, Kristen (twenty-something) and Ryan (17 months younger) keep in contact with me and are doing well. Kristen is a great mother of two, Joshua (4) and Abigail (going on 2). Ryan just got promoted to Sergeant in the U.S. Army and is finishing up his tour of Iraq (thank God he is safe). His son Jake is 8 months old and just started crawling.

I don't get out much anymore and try to serve the Lord in small ways as I live in a mountain cottage with Miguel and finish my DUI class by Christmas. Though I lost so much because of my stupid choices, I did not lose God's forgiveness and love for me that He showed by sending His only Son to become a man, die for our sins, and rise again to bring us the hope of new life.

As Thanksgiving 2008 approaches, I thank God for His forgiveness and for simple joy. And I pray I will see Jessica and Jonathan again.

So learn from my mistakes and stay away from all drugs, including alcohol. They will only destroy your life and make you lose everything too.

Have a Happy Thanksgiving.

Lonna

P.S. When He first began His ministry, Jesus read and fulfilled these words written by Isaiah the prophet 700 years before Jesus was born to this earth:

"The Spirit of the Lord God is upon Me, because the Lord has anointed Me to preach good tidings to the poor; He has sent Me to heal the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and the opening of the prison to those who are bound; to proclaim the acceptable year of the Lord, and the day of vengeance of our God; to comfort all who mourn, to console those who mourn in Zion, to give them beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness; that they may be called trees of righteousness, the planting of the Lord, that He may be glorified." Isaiah 61:1-3

Last year my family went to New Zealand, which is
located East of Australia, one of the closest places
to the Antarctic. In New Zealand, there are two
islands: the Northern Island, home of the capital of
New Zealand (Wellington), and the Southern Island,
where my family was there longest and where I had my
first public school experience (I have been
homeschooled my whole life in America--both of
my parents are college professors).

Two of my most memorable moments in school where
probably my funniest. The first took place on my
first day of school. I was very nervous and wearing a
Scottish kilt uniform, just trying to fit in as a kiwi and
awaiting the dreadful name I hear everyone gets at their new
school. All the people did the first day when I was
introduced as an over-seas visitor was gather around
me in a large circle and all talk at once with a bunch
of questions about my home.

For the time I was there, which was about a month, I
was known as "The New." I was quite hoping for
an original name, but I guess "New" was probably
better than some.

But on with the memory; each time I would step out in
the hallways kids of all ages, 12-16, would beg me to
speak. "Say 'California'!" Was the most common
request I would get, for they seem very obsessed with
the American accent and Hollywood, which
is located in California, and rightfully, my home.
Every time I would say "California," they would giggle,
then try to mimic my accent, but it always came out as
a "CAL-ifornia," like a Texan. No one could copy my accent.

The second funniest was even more amusing. It took
place with my least favorite teacher, Mrs. Gibbs, in
English class. I did like the class, but I started to
understand why kids think their teachers are either
insane, or they just decide that they like substitutes better.

Mrs. Gibbs was very strict, and throughout the whole time

I was there; the only time
she smiled was for a photograph I took. What happened
in English class was everyone was quiet (and supposed to
be), for we were all doing an assignment in class--
creating a poem with a particular structure.

Naturally, Mrs. Gibbs--who was and still is British
at heart - seemed to like to pick on the new American
whenever she could. While I was writing my poem, Mrs.
Gibbs was hovering over my shoulder and glaring at my
work, as if she could (and would) tear apart it with
her gaze. Suddenly, in her stern and strict voice,
she said, "You spelled 'grey' wrong." I looked up at
her from my chair with an eyebrow lifted. "But, Mrs.
Gibbs, that is how Americans spell it. I can change
it if you would rather." Mrs. Gibbs held her
glare/stare, then walked over to the chalk board
quickly, grabbed a piece of chalk, and heavily wrote
down the word "G-R-A-Y," as I spelled it. One of my
friends at my desk said, "It's spelled G-R-E-Y, Jess."

Everyone then looked up at the chalk board, and I'm
almost sure I heard audible gasps. In her booming
voice, Mrs. Gibbs spoke with a slight drag in her
words: "Now, what is wrong with the word MS.
WILLIAMS (she made sure to emphasize the name)
used?" Everyone in the room went off like an
automatic response: "She spelled it wrong." By then,
I was sunk down in my chair a bit. It seemed
everyone's gaze was on me, and I SWEAR they had red
eyes and evil grins. Perhaps it's just my
imagination, but really, the stares and things were
quite embarrassing.

Once that was out of the way, though, I made sure to
never touch the word "gray" in New Zealand. I kept it the
way Americans spell it, just as a trade mark and to make
fun of everyone. America, as I know it anyway, is a
free country. But after I left MacKenzie College, I
was very sad but thankful people cared about me. I
got several hugs and goodbyes and good lucks on my way
home, and they hoped I would come back ASAP.
Thankfully, though, we've already been to New Zealand
twice, and I'm going back this summer (their winter),
just like last year. I'm very excited about it, and
I'm sure my friends will be too. They've been
faithfully e-mailing me and can't wait for even the
possibility of me coming back. It is very different
in New Zealand from America, but that's just the way I
like it.

But, no offense intended, I'd rather spell it

"G-R-A-Y." Sounds more poetic to me.

Well. Yesterday was an interesting day...

I was awakened by my favorite sound--an alarm clock blasting. I was so tired from the day before, even though I went to bed at 10:30 p.m.. I just haven't been getting deep sleep lately. I also heard something like it was part of growing up. Being an adult must SUCK if you can't even get deep sleep at night! (If you're starting to wonder why I'm being so humorous and whacked-out, it's because I started blabbering yesterday to my mom about how humorous I could make the day as a journal entry. Of course she took advantage and ordered me to write it in a word document for Lord knows what. If it requires a computer though, I'm in. Quite an awful weakness).

Anyway, I slapped my hand over to the dresser beside me, right where my alarm clock always rests, and soon felt a pain rushing through my hand. I moaned, and slowly opened my eyes, the alarm clock buzz getting even louder (it does that over time), and I saw it was not in its place. I growled (yes I growl at things that annoy me) then went searching for it by sound with my eyes closed. It turned out to be resting under my pillow. It runs on batteries, so there are no wires. I looked at the time, then over to my brother, innocently "sleeping" in the bed across the room. My clock was "magically" set half an hour early. In annoyance, with eyes very heavy, I turned over, facing the wall. Turns out, I couldn't fall back asleep. For 15 minutes I lay on my side and thought about what was going on in my life and what the "Carnival" my mom was FORCING me to go to would be like. Suddenly a voice boomed behind me, clearly someone (my little brother Jonathan) singing:

"Jessica is so stupid, Jessica is a jerk! Come right on over and watch her; she's so fat she can't scream! Her pimply face looks so ugly, I'm sure you'll die . . . just seeing her pimply, stupid and fat . . . FACE!"--the daily morning routine.

He knew I was awake, but I kept my place, pretending to ignore him. He came really close behind me and repeated the song as loud as he could without our mother hearing--she was 2 rooms away. (Yes, The Thing knows how loud he can get without an adult hearing).

Jonathan returned to bed quickly, suddenly hearing footsteps. My mom came into the scene. "Okay. Jess, Jon--get up! We've got to be there at 8."

Jonathan sprung up (like always) as she left and started making more lyrics about me to well-known tunes. He got dressed, then after a very long time got me to tumble out of bed by force. His little thing is to tangle my covers. *Sniffles pathetically* And it always takes me forever to make my bed. After everything else goes wrong at home, with mom complaining I didn't make her tea or get up...

We arrived at the Carnival. It started at 10, but the pancake breakfast was from 8-10. We got there at 9:50, not bad for my mom. An hour and . . . *pause* . . . uh . . . 50 minutes late, right! *Nervous smile as she points to the huge sign over her head saying "Feels stupid" with an arrow pointing to herself*

After that, mom bumped into the main coordinator. Meanwhile, I'm dazed out watching the pathetic girls who dress like they're desperate for guys and very good-looking (even though they're not, sorry). After my brother skipped off with a friend, I started walking towards the field where the Carnival is getting started; my mother comes up behind me quickly. "You're going to be helping out with the Carnival. They need helpers. Go see the lady with the clipboard."

"Mom! You ALREADY volunteered me?! You ALWAYS do that! All I wanted to try to do today was have fun, perhaps fit in!" She looked over my outfit, which was all black (like my mood) then smiled. "Consider this an added punishment." Then she walked away. I grumbled and walked off to what she told me to do . . . and guess where I was stationed.

The giant blowup whale! And what joy I got in finding my mother would be working with me. I was told the instructions to the large blue whale, where you go inside through the mouth and out the other end, a maze and several objects inside for the littler kids. "Make sure there's no more than 6 children in it at a time, and that they all keep moving. No shoes or hats allowed inside, since there are high winds and things. Keep them in line. One stands at the front, and one checks the side continuously."
You should have seen how serious the Carnival Guy sounded. I almost laughed and went insane knowing I was going to help a whale--who had a human's legs and fins left over from a scuba diver sticking out of his mouth, mind you--digest children. Mom got the front, and remarked at how hot a day it was and that I was wearing black. Really, the whole thing I hated, but it was nice seeing children so happy. And hey. I got a free hamburger and cotton candy. I didn't even get sunburned, but my mother did, even though she was in the shade with sunscreen almost the whole time . . .

This has been my longest journal entry, most likely. I'm feeling quite stupid and hyper . . . and today has not been as exciting as yesterday . . . not that yesterday I had fun . . .

Ugh. Whatever. There was yesterday . . . *Glares at mom* And there was your journal entry you wanted for Lord knows what. *Growl*

Go into your child's bedroom just before she falls asleep (this works really well on a twelve-year-old girl). Start looking under her nine-year-old brother's bed (yes, I know she needs her own room--we're working on that--got to kick the cats out of the spare room first). Use a flashlight. Move things around under her brother's bed.

Child: "Mom, what are you doing?"

Mom: (using a tactic often used by children on their parents) "Nothing."

Puzzled silence. Start looking under the dresser that lies between the two kids' beds. Move papers around. Find a toy soldier and throw it out from under the dresser.

Child (in an elevated voice): "Mom, WHAT are you DOING?"

Mom (in a normal voice): "Nothing."

Sit on the brother's bed and start waving the flashlight back and forth while giggling hysterically.

Child (in a very elevated voice): "Mom, what is WRONG with you? I am trying to sleep here. Tell me what you WANT before I throw a stuffed animal at you!"

Mom (in a pathetic voice): "Where is my brain? I seem to have lost it since I had children."

Child (in a sleepy voice): "Outside in the tree. Now, will you please leave me alone?"

Mom: "Oh, thank you. Maybe I'll find it."

Wave the flashlight a few more times and exit the room, still giggling.

**That's It, Parents!**

1. Have you ever been too tired to brush your teeth?

2. Do you like eating cold cereal with milk for dinner?

3. Do you sometimes want to throw your beautiful new silver Mac Powerbook laptop computer through your window and scream "I hate to write, my neck hurts, and I'm tired of paying for a chiropractor!"

4.Yes, I typed every single word in this huge website which I designed and maintain myself. Thank God for high school touch-typing courses. Webmasters to be, get out your "Mavis Teaches Typing" CD-ROMs.

5. Why do people have parrots as pets? Is being being bit on the ear fun?

6. Why do movie stars (who basically look good and can speak lines) get paid more than teachers (who are enlightening the next generation)?

7. Why do stay-at-home Moms (who work 24/7, have a job they do out of their home, and don't get two-week cruises to Hawaii) get looked down on by a society that pays actors more than teachers?

8. Why do Homeschoolers not get paid at all?

9. Why isn't there an Oscar (or something like it) for fathers who diligently take their nine-year-old sons to Little League baseball practices--and don't spit, swear, or throw gloves like some people we could mention?

10. Why does my kitchen keep attacking me (stuff falling out of cupboards, refrigerator expelling contents, sodas exploding on the floor)?

11. Why do rich people from the valleys drive shiny new red Hummers up our mountain? Are they going into combat against the mountains?

12. Why are Hummers even made when they get 9 miles per gallon during gas price hikes and air pollution warnings?

13. Why is my lovely mountain more crowded, polluted, still covered with dead trees, and ready for a new fire season--yet the prices of houses have gone way up?

14. Why did I lose my heart to New Zealand?