CHRISTMAS IN THE JUNGLE

It was soon clear that even Manila was too dangerous for the patients and their caregivers. Things were moving so fast. It was hard to know from minute to minute what orders were coming next. Sally thought wistfully about her suggestion to her commanding officer at dinner just a week ago, that perhaps they would be wise to pull together some warm clothes and other provisions in case they needed to flee the Japanese quickly. Sally was rebuffed. She felt hurt and angry now. Had the officer been holding back the truth? Or had she herself not received the intel that was now so clear to them all?

The Bataan Peninsula is largely covered by dense vegetation. There is a steep mountain range cutting through the area, with Mount Natib, about 4200 feet high in the north, and Mount Bataan, 4700 feet high in the south. Seven-inch tall tarsiers are one of the world’s smallest primates, and their adorable huge eyes study their surroundings, looking for danger. They are harmless but annoying when they become curious, especially when nearby humans are, say, performing a delicate operation on a fellow human. Long-glanded coral snakes are plentiful in the Bataan jungles as well. These are venomous snakes, as are cobras, vipers, and sea snakes, all native to the area, each fully capable of completely ruining a single nurse’s day in a heartbeat. Also, about twenty species of bats make their homes in the peninsula. Probably the most memorable is the giant golden-crowned flying fox, also known as the golden-capped fruit bat. It is one of the largest bat species in the world, weighing about three pounds, and having a “forearm length” of over eight inches. Not a welcome visitor during nighttime patient checks.

Why, one might ask, would the United States Army and Navy want to take patients out into this horrid jungle with potentially deadly species of snakes and many other animals all around them? The answer was clear: the Japanese wouldn’t be looking for them there, and hopefully, the Americans could hold off until more troops were sent in to rescue them.

Christmas Day was the first day several nurses were sent out to Bataan to begin setting up a hospital in a tiny town called Limay. At the same time as this new outdoor hospital was being set up, the Army was trying to get beds sent to what would be called simply, “Jungle Hospital.” This facility was soon renamed Hospital Number Two. Hospital Number One had been set up at a place called Little Baguio, which had been a Philippine Army engineers’ headquarters. Hospital Number One had a building and double-decker beds were built inside. The doctors and nurses assigned to Hospital Number One tended to their patients inside this building.

Sally was assigned to Hospital Number Two. They had no buildings. They had no double-decker beds. They had mattresses lying on the ground. There were no bedside tables, no chairs, no furniture at all to speak of. The only protection against the elements was a makeshift covering over the medical records.

“This is the bleakest affair I ever saw in my life,” Sally said the day she arrived.

Water was drawn from a creek, by the nurses, for use for their patients. The only baths given to the patients were with cold water from that creek. Water was heated for cooking, but not for bathing. The nurses and officers bathed in the same creek where they got water for their patients, and the water was just as cold.

Within a short period of time, there were eighteen wards in Hospital Number Two, strung out along a small river called the Reall. Whenever the wards all filled up, a bulldozer would come in and cut a pathway through the jungle. Just the bottom foliage was cut; the canopy was left alone so the Japanese could not see where the Americans were hiding.

“I felt completely protected,” Sally said later. “The canopy completely obliterated our view of the airplanes flying over and their view of us.  I loved it! I guess what you can’t see can’t hurt you!”

Shortly after the American and Filipino forces began to set up these open-air field hospitals, the commanding officer of the Nurse Corps requested permission to requisition smaller sized of khaki pants and shirts. It was not practical, let alone comfortable, to wear starched white nurses’ dresses and caps in an outdoor hospital. Permission was granted, and the women became the first nurses in military history to wear khakis in the line of duty. Angelo performed his “procurement magic” by producing khaki pants and shirts, both short and long sleeved, in abundance so the nurses would have plenty to choose from. No one questioned his need for the clothing; it was clear that it was the only solution for the nurses who were working tirelessly under very difficult conditions.

Another change that may have been more subtle was a shift in attitude for the nurses, from shift-work caregivers to “guerilla nursing care,” beating back jungle vegetation as it grew like magic in and around the area where the patients lay. There seemed to be nothing—absolutely nothing—that kept the nurses from their appointed duty. No matter how hot the jungle got, no matter how few medical supplies they had to work with, the nurses brought professionalism, patience, and most of all, a special kind of healing to their patients lying in front of them on the jungle floor. There was literally no sacrifice these women were not willing to make to foster a restorative atmosphere in their “wards.”

RABBITT HOLE: THE HISTORY OF US MILITARY NURSES

I have “gone down a rabbit hole” today. What this means is that I started out sincerely doing research for Aunt Sally’s book, but I got lost reading about things I don’t intend to use, but they are interesting, nonetheless. Today’s “rabbit hole” is about the history of the military nursing staff in the United States. So here goes…

The thirteen original colonies which became the United States of America organized the Continental Army to fight the Revolutionary War of 1776. “Nurses” were needed to care for the sick and wounded soldiers. They were mothers, wives, and sisters of the troops. Their medical training was scant, and some were more acquainted with assisting their neighbors in labor and delivery. They cared for military casualties in tent hospitals and requisitioned private homes. They also cleaned the makeshift dispensaries, did laundry, made the meals, and managed the inventory of needed supplies.

Between the Revolutionary War and the Civil War, military nurses were not needed. But when war broke out between our own citizens, the battles were widespread in the North and the South, and casualties required nurses again. More than 3000 female and about 500 male volunteers worked dressing wounds, feeding, and bathing patients, and attending the dying. Many nurses fell ill themselves since they seldom got enough rest and were exposed to contagious diseases. In 1898, when the Spanish American War commenced, fifteen hundred contract nurses were mobilized, working to quell yellow fever, malaria, and other tropical diseases. These professional nurses’ efforts ushered in a permanent female nurse corps in the Army.

After the Spanish American War, the number of Army nurse corps members shrank to 220. The number rose to 450 during the Mexican border uprising in 1916. World War I saw nursing numbers swelling to 21,460 officers with 10,000 serving oversees in 1918. African American nurses were also admitted to the Nursing Corps for the first time. But segregation policies prevented them from rising in the military ranks until the War was over. By that time, it was estimated that one-third of all American nurses had served in the Army.

US military nurses continued working in hospitals and mobile units, displaying flexibility and focus on a variety of assignments from hospital trains in France to transport ships carrying wounded soldiers across the Atlantic. They were stationed at permanent facilities in the continental US, France, Hawaii, Puerto Rico, and the Philippines. In 1920, Army nurses were allowed to progress from second Lieutenant to Major, although their pay remained half that of men of the same rank. From patients to active generals, the nurses’ outstanding performance was celebrated. This support, along with organized nurses lobbying for better treatment and higher pay, led to improving opportunities for these women. Their diligence began to pay off, but still lagged behind the men in service.

Onto this scene emerged our heroine, Ethel “Sally” Blaine Millett.

NEXT WEEK: NO RABBIT HOLES JUST MOREOF SALLY’S STORY!

Source: American Nurse Corps Association  https://e-anca.org/History/ANC-Eras/1901-1940

BEST HOPES, WORST FEARS

Do not worry about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, or about your body, what you will wear. Look at the birds of the air….your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? Matthew 6:25-34

 

I have always said my spiritual gift is worrying. Being raised by an alcoholic mother and co-dependent father, I grew up assuming the worst would always happen in my life because that’s all I ever knew. I’m working to grow and change, and I want to share some things I’ve learned.

 

Matthew 6:25-34 was one of the verses my husband and I used in our marriage ceremony. The passage reminds me that it is human nature to worry some of the time, so I shouldn’t be too hard on myself. But Jesus is saying that God cares even for the little birds in the sky, so why would we doubt that He cares for each of us? Yes, bad things happen in life, but our faith will and does sustain us, even in the worst of times. A friend said recently that, when a bird lands on the highest branch of a tree, the bird doesn’t trust the branch; he trusts his wings. And another friend, who happens to be a retired biology teacher, added that a bird’s wings are porous so they can be both light and strong. A third friend added that our attitudes and perceptions are “an inside job.” In other words, it’s not the branches in life that we trust; it’s our own wings—the strength we possess inside—that keeps us afloat.

 

Mark Twain once said, “I’ve been through some terrible things in my life, and some of them actually happened.” Worry must be viewed as a tremendous waste of time. If we worry in advance, we tell ourselves, we will somehow be more prepared if something bad does happen. But our best hope is just as likely to occur as our worst fear. We would do well to think, “What is the most productive thing I can do at this moment?” In the words of A.J. Cronin, “Worry never robs tomorrow of its sorrow; it only saps today of its strength.”

 

Lord, when I start to worry, remind me of those birds You care so much for and strengthen my wings of faith. Amen

 

Both candid and humorous, insightful and ponderous, Meg Blaine Corrigan’s memoir, Then I Am Strong: Moving From My Mother’s Daughter to God’s Child, takes the reader through her chaotic childhood with an alcoholic mother and enabling father to a violent assault that nearly ended her life. She populates her tale with vivid descriptions of her parents, other influential adults, the attacker, and her disastrous first marriage. But this story has a happy ending, when Meg finds solace in a God she didn’t think she’d ever believe in, when He gently helps her heal from her past lives and move into the best times of her life. Meg has also written a novel, Perils of a Polynesian Percussionist, about said first marriage, as well as a Christian devotional, Saints With Slingshots: Daily Devotions for the Slightly Tarnished But Perpetually Forgiven Christian, comprised of blogs from this site. Stay tuned for sequels to her last two books! All of her works may be purchased through her website, www.MegCorrigan.com or from www.amazon.com .

TELL YOUR HEART

Ananias answered, “Lord, I have heard from many about this man, how much evil he has done to Your saints in Jerusalem; and here he has authority from the chief priests to bind all who invoke Your name.” But the Lord said to him, “Go, for he is an instrument whom I have chosen to bring My name before Gentiles and kings and before the people of Israel.” Acts 9:13-15

 

Musicians Phillips, Craig and Dean recorded a song in 2012 called “Tell Your Heart To Beat Again.” The song was inspired by a heart surgeon who was attempting to massage a heart to make it beat again following open heart surgery. The heart wouldn’t start, and more measures did not help. The surgeon finally did the most incredible thing: he knelt next to the patient, removed his mask, and spoke directly into her ear. “Miss Johnson,” he said, “This is your surgeon. The operation went perfectly. Your heart has been repaired. Now tell your heart to beat again.” The heart began to beat immediately.

 

This story reminds me of Saul’s conversion. A zealous Jew who did not believe Jesus was the son of God, Saul was on his way to Damascus, with written authority to arrest and even kill followers of Christ. But Christ met Saul on the road, asking him “Why are you persecuting me?” Then Christ caused Saul to lose his sight (Acts 9:109). He had to be led into Damascus, but Christ had more surprises for him. A righteous man named Ananias saw a vision from the Lord telling him he was to find Saul and teach him about the risen Christ. Ananias objected strenuously because he feared Saul’s wrath against Christ’s followers. But the Lord insisted that Saul (later called Paul) was the one He had chosen to carry Christ’s name and message to the people (Acts 9:13-15). Ananias met with Paul, and “immediately something like scales fell from his eyes, and his sight was restored” (Acts 9:18). The Lord could have given back Paul’s sight and shown him all he needed to learn. But like the heart surgeon speaking gently to his patient, the Lord chose a person to bring Paul into the wonderful light of Christ’s love and forgiveness.

 

Lord, thank You for the people in our lives who bring us healing and hope with their words and their faith. Amen

 

Meg Blaine Corrigan finds ideas for her devotional blogs in everyday places and events, from comic strips to magazines and books, comments on the fly from people she meets, ancient memories of her childhood, and nigglings from God. Meg has written a Christian devotional blog for several years that has been read in over 40 countries by 9000 people. A compilation of blogs, Saints With Slingshots: Daily Devotions for the Slightly Tarnished But Perpetually Forgiven Christian, was published in 2015. Meg is working on a second book (Saints TWO) which she has hopes of completing by Christmas, 2020. Her first book, Then I Am Strong: Moving From My Mother’s Daughter to God’s Child, is a memoir about her childhood with an alcoholic mother and a co-dependent father. The book also chronicles Meg’s astounding rescue from the hands of a gun-wielding rapist, a tragedy turned holy, a powerful message of hope in her darkest hour. Meg is a retired college counselor and former social worker. Meg enjoys spending time with her husband, their four daughters and spouses, ten grandchildren and two great-grandchildren, as well as their rescue dog, Bassett/Beagle mix Ginger. Meg and her husband Patrick play and sing in the contemporary worship band at their church, Christ Lutheran in Lake Elmo, Minnesota. She also volunteers with sexual violence/sex trafficking prevention and education. She speaks to groups whenever she if offered the opportunity. She is a voracious reader of other people’s writing, which gives her lots of ideas for more devotional blogs. Read more about her at www.MegCorrigan.com or contact her at MegCorrigan@comcast.net .

GONE!

He will again have compassion upon us: He will tread our iniquities under foot. You will cast all our sins into the depths of the sea. Micah 7:19

An Etch A Sketch is a mechanical drawing toy that has a thick, flat gray screen in a red plastic frame. According to Wikipedia.com, “There are two white knobs on the front of the frame in the lower corners. Twisting the knobs moves a stylus that displaces aluminum powder on the back of the screen, leaving a solid line. The knobs create lineographic images. The left control moves the stylus horizontally, and the right one moves it vertically. The Etch A Sketch was introduced near the peak of the (post-World War II) Baby Boom on 12 July 1960 for $2.99 (equivalent to $26 in 2019). It went on to sell 600,000 units that year and is one of the best-known toys of that era. In 1998, it was inducted into the National Toy Hall of Fame in Rochester, New York. In 2003, the Toy Industry Association named Etch A Sketch to its Century of Toys List, a roll call commemorating the 100 most memorable and most creative toys of the 20th century. The Etch A Sketch has since sold over 100 million units world-wide.” I think the most fun thing about the Etch A Sketch is that, when you make a mistake or you are tired of looking at one creation, you can invert the entire toy and all the aluminum powder disappears from the screen. You can then start a new design as if the old one never existed.

I like to think about the forgiveness we have with God as an eternal Etch A Sketch toy. When we repent of our sin, when we come to God to say we are sorry and we are ready to begin again, He always tips us upside down and allows our sin to fall out. Like with the Etch A Sketch, we can remember the designs—or the sins—we create after they have been forgiven by God. But Micah says God will “cast all of our sins into the depths of the sea” (Micah 7:19). Some theologians refer to God’s complete absolution of our sins as a “sea of forgetfulness.” God forgets and our sins are just…gone!

 

Lord of Life, thank You that You grant us new mercies every morning! Amen

 

Meg Blaine Corrigan is the author of three books: Then I Am Strong: Moving From My Mother’s Daughter to God’s Child; Perils of a Polynesian Percussionist; and Saints With Slingshots: Daily Devotions for the Slightly Tarnished But Perpetually Forgiven Christian. She holds a Master’s Degree in Counseling from the University of New Mexico and has over thirty years’ experience working with survivors of domestic violence, sexual assault, war veterans, and other trauma survivors.  Her books may be purchased through her website, www.MegCorrigan.com or from www.amazon.com .

COUNTING TO TEN WHILE PRAYING

Above all, maintain constant love for one another, for love covers a multitude of sins. 1 Peter 4:8

 

I have a great marriage. This does not mean things go smoothly all the time, as anyone who has been or still is married can tell you. Some days, it takes all I’ve got to remember the wonderful reasons I fell in love with him. He is good looking, smart, sensible, trustworthy, kind, practical, and he loves dogs. He could probably come up with a similar list for why he chose me too, and on a good day, our good lists are all we see. But throw in a sleepless night, a bunch of things in life going wrong when they were expected to go right, and dinner getting burned, and we become less compatible. That’s the nature of a long-term relationship, the nature of life. Jesus said, “In this world you will have trials, but I have overcome the world” (John 16:33).

 

Counting to ten while praying saves me. I have learned that doing both together can get me out of an awful mood and make me more willing to forgive. The results are even better if I also list the reasons I chose my husband while I am praying and counting to ten. It’s a package deal. The more you work it, the better the outcome.

 

So does love cover (or excuse) a multitude of sins? I believe it does. But obviously no one deserves to be physically or emotionally battered to the point where people are in danger of getting seriously hurt. Ephesians 5:21-33 describes an ideal marriage. But the passage is often misinterpreted to mean that a woman must obey her husband no matter what. The 21^st verse clearly says, “Be subject to one another out of reverence for Christ.” The remaining verses provide a standard to live up to: “Husbands, love your wives, just as Christ loved the church” (v. 25) and  ^“Wives, be subject to your husbands as you are to the Lord” (v. 22). Both of these statements compare marriage to our individual relationships with God. We are to strive to have the same relationship with life partners—and everyone else—that we have with our Lord. And counting to ten while praying helps all of us!

 

Jesus, help us model all our relationships after our relationship with You. Amen

FIRST CHURCH OF THE SINS OF THE FATHERS

I, the Lord your God, am a jealous God, punishing the children for the sin of the parents to the third and fourth generation of those who hate Me, but showing love to a thousand generations of those who love Me and keep My commandments. Exodus 20:5-6

 

I know a wise and compassionate young man whom I will can Ben, who was raised in a household of horrors. His father drank non-stop and was cruel to his wife and children. The mother tried to raise her children the best way she knew how but failed because of her own fears, anxieties, and poor behavior. Ben remembered his grandparents, uncles, aunts and cousins all seemingly caught up in a sick family dynamic that never improved, leading Ben to eventually become addicted to alcohol and drugs himself. Thankfully, Ben saw the light as a young man, went through drug and alcohol treatment, and began attending Alcoholics Anonymous on a regular basis. He said it was as if his family had forced him to “wear a dirty suit,” and he no longer wanted to do that. It was necessary for him to separate completely from his family of origin in order to survive.

 

Ben’s situation reminds of the passages in the Bible which say in several ways, “the sins of the fathers are visited on the children to the third and fourth generation.” Ben’s family certainly seems to fit this description. But neither Ben nor I believe children are destined to turn out like their wayward parents. Ben and I broke the pattern. We both decided, for a variety of reasons, not to live as our parents had lived. Ben’s situation was far worse than mine, and I admire this young man greatly for the courage it took for him to change his life.

 

But does God really mean he will “punish the children for the sin of the parent?” In today’s Scripture, Exodus 20:5-6, the next few words are critical: “of those who hate Me.” Ben and I were able to seek our “Higher Power,” and we admitted we were powerless without Him. We chose to love and trust God and we are now reaping His “love to a thousand generations.”

 

Lord, I’m so glad to know You and to know Ben and others who have chosen You instead of death and destruction! Amen

 

Both candid and humorous, insightful and ponderous, Meg Blaine Corrigan’s memoir, Then I Am Strong: Moving From My Mother’s Daughter to God’s Child, takes the reader through her chaotic childhood with an alcoholic mother and enabling father to a violent assault that nearly ended her life. She populates her tale with vivid descriptions of her parents, other influential adults, the attacker, and her disastrous first marriage. But this story has a happy ending, when Meg finds solace in a God she didn’t think she’d ever believe in, when He gently helps her heal from her past lives and move into the best times of her life. Meg has also written a novel, Perils of a Polynesian Percussionist, about said first marriage, as well as a Christian devotional, Saints With Slingshots: Daily Devotions for the Slightly Tarnished But Perpetually Forgiven Christian, comprised of blogs from this site. Stay tuned for sequels to her last two books! All of her works may be purchased through her website, www.MegCorrigan.com or from www.amazon.com .

LET’S EAT!

Jesus said to them, “Come and have breakfast.” None of the disciples dared ask him, “Who are you?” They knew it was the Lord. John 21:12

 

I do almost all the cooking for my husband and me. I love to cook, and I try to make special meals when I have the ingredients and the time. When I tell my husband it’s time to eat, he is often reading, watching television, or tinkering in the garage. “I’ll be there in a minute,” he’ll say, and I know he’s in the middle of a chapter or a show or a project. I don’t mind holding the meal a bit. I’ve learned to expect him to come as soon as he is able. Mealtimes are special for us as a couple, and we always thank God for the food that nourishes us.

 

Following His miraculous resurrection, Jesus was full of surprises. He appeared to the women outside the empty tomb on Easter morning (John 20:16). Later He walked right through the wall into the Upper Room. And He came again to see Thomas who was not among those He had seen before (John 20:19-29). Then, when the disciples finally thought they’d seen the last of Him, they all went fishing. And there was Jesus again, on the shore, telling them where to cast their nets to catch fish. Then, He call to them to come join Him on shore for a breakfast of fresh fish (John 21). The passage in John says the disciples knew right away it was Jesus, but it still must have been a surprise to witness Him doing something so ordinary and mundane as making breakfast for His friends. Although John’s Gospel is silent on the transfiguration of Christ, Matthew 17, Mark 9 and Luke 9 all record Jesus ascending up to heaven in the presence of Peter, James the son of Zebedee and his brother John the Apostle.

 

What a whirlwind those days must have been! The Creator of the Universe was brutally executed, buried in a tomb, conquered death and rose again. How precious were those hours when He spent ordinary, “quality” time with the men He loved before being raised to sit at His Father’s right hand for eternity.

 

Jesus, we thank You that You became a mortal being just like us so we could remember You when we say “Let’s eat!” Amen

 

Meg Blaine Corrigan tells stories of wisdom, strength, fear, joy and risk-taking. Daughter of a raging alcoholic mother, and survivor of sexual assault at gunpoint, Corrigan has shaken a dismal past and flung herself into the arms of Christ, Who sustains her in her daily walk of grace. She shares with her listeners her incredible story of surviving and thriving through many trials during her seven decades walking this fragile earth. She has been described as a Renaissance Woman, integrating her formal training in psychology and counseling, an enlightening experience as a percussionist for a Polynesian show troupe, and most recently as an inspirational author and blogger, to the delight of all who read her work and hear her speak. Her exposure to many life experiences has enriched her passion for spreading Christ’s word and helping other trauma survivors. She has a master’s degree in Guidance and Counseling and thirty-plus years of experience in the field of counseling and social work.  She lives in Lake Elmo, Minnesota, with the love of her life, Patrick, and their formerly disenfranchised rescue dog Ginger. www.MegCorrigan.com    MegCorrigan@comcast.net

A HARD JOB

 

The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. Psalm 23:1

 

The Elko, Nevada area is home to Basque immigrants from Spain who came here in the 19^th century to work as sheep herders. When I played drums in a Hawaiian band, we spent time in Elko. Many of these herdsmen would come in to hear our band play. We learned from a Basque named Mercedes Hoyos that their life herding sheep was not easy. From my book, Perils of a Polynesian Percussionist:

 

“You don’t have to know anything about sheepherding to recognize one of the northern Basques who (had) spent about three months out on the range, all alone with his sheep, until somebody finally came and relieved him of his duties so he could go into town for a few days. He would usually stay at a Basque boarding house…where he would have a long bath while his clothes were being laundered. Then, he’d be ready for a home-cooked meal of marmitako (Basque tuna stew) and Chacoli wine, maybe a Catholic mass or two, and certainly a quick confession with one of the local priests, to relieve himself of the burden of his sins…He’d had a bath and put on clean clothes, (but) there was still a strange odor about this man. He wore a long-sleeved red wool shirt, even though it was warm outside. His brown pants, also wool, were tucked into work boots and held up by suspenders. A San Francisco Giants baseball cap graced his full head of grayish brown hair.

 

“’Those mountains are called mata hombres. “Man killers is what they are! I was pretty much ready for a visit to town,’ Mercedes said….(‘I tend) ‘bout nine hundred sheep, mostly ewes. A few rams…and the ewes have dropped their lambs, since it’s summertime ….I have to stay right by the sheep, especially at night. There are lots of coyotes….I really care about each one of ‘em. If I find a dead lamb, well, I just start to cry.’”

 

Images of a fluffy lamb in the arms of Jesus disappeared as I listened to Mercedes Hoyos describe his hard life. The image we carry of our Lord as our shepherd must include the hard work, deep caring and responsibility a sheep tender brings to the job.

 

Lord, we are Your lambs and You care for us as a Good Shepherd. Amen

WHAT BACK DOOR?

I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the Lord’s holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God. Ephesians 3:16-18

 

Recently, I was asked to participate in a group about groups. A number of folks apparently stood out as potential leaders for small groups at our church, and the pastor invited us to spend six Wednesday evenings together discussing what small group leadership looked like to us. During one of the initial meetings, the topic of shrinking attendance at all mainstream Christian churches in the United States came up. Someone said, “We need to close the back door so people won’t leave.” I wasn’t sure if that was meant as a joke or not. Perhaps I’m not the person to ask about closing the back door.

 

You see, I’m a “new” Christian. I only accepted Christ as my personal Savior forty-four years ago, when I was twenty-eight, so I don’t consider myself a “life-long” Christian. I didn’t grow up in the church. I never had parents or grandparents or pastors or Sunday school teachers who tried to “raise me right.” I didn’t go through confirmation until I was almost twenty-nine, long after my teenaged-self thought I knew more about life than church could teach me, for heaven’s sake! You see, I’m still excited about church, and I have no intention of leaving, by the back door or the front door or the window. I’m here for the long haul. They are stuck with me, warts and all.

 

So I can’t get into a discussion of “closing the back door” to retain current members or ensure new members stay. All we have to do is get them so excited about Christ that they won’t leave. Ever. If there is anything I will have to say about it, I plan to share my faith in a way that gets other people excited too. God doesn’t want us perfect. He just wants us excited to know Him.

 

Lord, I pray that each member of our church…“may have power, together with all the Lord’s holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ.” Amen

 

Meg Blaine Corrigan tells stories of wisdom, strength, fear, joy and risk-taking. Daughter of a raging alcoholic mother, and survivor of sexual assault at gunpoint, Corrigan has shaken a dismal past and flung herself into the arms of Christ, Who sustains her in her daily walk of grace. She shares with her listeners her incredible story of surviving and thriving through many trials during her seven decades walking this fragile earth. She has been described as a Renaissance Woman, integrating her formal training in psychology and counseling, an enlightening experience as a percussionist for a Polynesian show troupe, and most recently as an inspirational author and blogger. Her exposure to many life experiences has enriched her passion for spreading Christ’s word and helping other trauma survivors. She has a Master’s Degree in Guidance and Counseling and thirty-plus years of experience in the field of counseling and social work. She lives in Lake Elmo, Minnesota, with the love of her life, Patrick, and their formerly disenfranchised rescue dog Ginger. www.MegCorrigan.com   MegCorrigan@comcast.net