Untitled #2

Rocks and metal ̶

Is that really all it is?

Is the meaning so easily reduced ̶

To nothing?


Is there redemption for a love that grew cold?

Can it be revived once more

Like a phoenix rising?


Beauty from ashes…

Can love be reborn?

A new beginning out of the rubble ̶

Is it possible?




Seeping from every pore,

It grows stronger.

The more I try to forget,

I remember—


The rage overtakes me.

Lost for words, I scream.

To release the pain, I do all that I know

All I was taught—

It controls me.

The anger has overtaken a once tender heart.

A heart that was broken…

Can it ever heal?


Where does the road end?

©2013 Cassie Cufr

All Rights Reserved

A lesson from Anne Shirley

Tomorrow is fresh with no mistakes in it!

~Anne Shirley (Anne of Green Gables)

Lord knows I could use a fresh start. I awoke this morning with the feeling that it’s time. Time for a new start. Time for a new thing.  A new season, if you will. The canvas is empty, and I have no idea what the painting will look like. Today I will take a step into a new season. It’s taken me long enough to realize that God can only reach so far in my life as I allow Him.  I’m flinging the door wide open today. Lost dreams from the past are just that. They are the past. I can’t go back and attain the dreams I dreamed in the past, so I will , instead, dream new dreams.  My fervent prayer is that of this song. Lord move or move me!

Behold, I will do a new thing. It springs forth now. Don’t you know it? I will even make a way in the wilderness, and rivers in the desert.

~GOD (Isaiah 43:19, WEB)


Angels At The Big Wheel Truck Stop

Since Christmas is close, it’s time to share one of my favorite Christmas tales. The author remains unknown, but I wish I knew him or her so that I could share my gratitude for the beautiful reminder that the story contains.

In September 1960, I woke up one morning with six hungry babies and just 75 cents in my pocket. Their father was gone.  The boys ranged from three months to seven years; their sister was two.

Their Dad had never been much more than a presence they feared.  Whenever they heard his tires crunch on the gravel driveway they would scramble to hide under their beds. He did manage to leave $15 a week to buy groceries. Now that he had decided to leave, there would be no more beatings, but no food either.

If there was a welfare system in effect in southern Indiana at that time, I certainly knew nothing about it. I scrubbed the kids until they looked brand new and then put on my best homemade  dress. I loaded them into the rusty old 51 Chevy and drove off to find a job.

The seven of us went to every factory, store and restaurant in our small town. No luck. The kids stayed crammed into the car and tried to be quiet while I tried to convince whomever would listen that I was willing to learn or do anything. I had to have a job. Still no luck.

The last place we went to, just a few miles out of town, was an old Root Beer Barrel drive-in that had been converted to a truck stop. It was called the Big Wheel. An old lady named Granny owned the place and she peeked out of the window from time to time at all those kids. She needed someone on the graveyard shift, 11 at night until seven in the morning. She paid 65 cents an hour and I could start that night.

I raced home and called the teenager down the street that baby-sat for people. I bargained with her to come and sleep on my sofa for a dollar a night. She could arrive with her pajamas on and the kids would already be asleep. This seemed like a good arrangement to her, so we made a deal.

That night when the little ones and I knelt to say our prayers we all thanked God for finding Mommy a job. And so I started at the Big Wheel. When I got home in the mornings I woke the baby-sitter up and sent her home with one dollar of my tip money-fully half of what I averaged every night. As the weeks went by, heating bills added a strain to my meager wage. The tires on the old Chevy had the consistency of penny balloons and began to leak. I had to fill them with air on the way to work and again every morning before I could go home. One bleak fall morning, I dragged myself to the car to go home and found four tires in the back seat. New tires! There was no note, no nothing, just those beautiful brand new tires. Had angels taken up residence in Indiana? I wondered.

I made a deal with the owner of the local service station. In exchange for his mounting the new tires, I would clean up his office. I remember it took me a lot longer to scrub his floor than it did for him to do the tires. I was now working six nights instead of five and it still wasn’t enough.

Christmas was coming and I knew there would be no money for toys for the kids. I found a can of red paint and started repairing and painting some old toys. Then I hid them in the basement so there would be something for Santa to deliver on Christmas morning. Clothes were a worry too. I was sewing patches on top of patches on the boys pants and soon they would be too far gone to repair. On Christmas Eve, the usual customers were drinking coffee in the Big Wheel. These were the truckers, Les, Frank, and Jim, and a state trooper named Joe.

A few musicians were hanging around after a gig at the Legion and were dropping nickels in the pinball machine. The regulars all just sat around and talked through the wee hours of the morning and then left to get home before the sun came up. When it was time for me to go home at 7:00 A.M. on Christmas morning, I hurried to the car. I was hoping the kids wouldn’t wake up before I managed to get home and get the presents from the basement and place them under the tree. We had cut down a small cedar tree by the side of the road down by the dump. It was still dark and I couldn’t see much, but there appeared to be some dark shadows in the car-or was that just a trick of the night?

Something certainly looked different, but it was hard to tell what. When I reached the car I peered warily into one of the side windows Then my jaw dropped in amazement. My old battered Chevy was filled full to the top with boxes of all shapes and sizes. I quickly opened the driver’s side door, scrambled inside and kneeled in the front facing the back seat.

Reaching back, I pulled off the lid of the top box. Inside was a whole case of little blue jeans, sizes 2-10! I looked inside another box: It was full of shirts to go with the jeans. Then I peeked inside some of the other boxes: There was candy and nuts and bananas and bags of groceries. There was an enormous ham for baking, and canned vegetables and potatoes. There was pudding and Jell-O and cookies, pie filling and flour. There was a whole bag of laundry supplies and cleaning items. And there were five toy trucks and one beautiful little doll. As I drove back through empty streets as the sun slowly rose on the most amazing Christmas Day of my life, I was sobbing with gratitude. And I will never forget the joy on the faces of my little ones that precious morning.

Yes, there were angels in Indiana that long-ago December. And they all hung out at the Big Wheel truck stop.

Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by this some have entertained angels without knowing it.  Hebrews 13:2 NASB

I Dreamed a Dream

I can’t say it any better than this…

I Dreamed A Dream

(Les Miserables)

There was a time, when men were kind
And their voices were soft
And their words were inviting
There was a time, when love was blind
And the world was a song
And the song was exciting
There was a time it all went wrong

I dreamed a dream in time gone by
When hope was high and life worth living
I dreamed that love would never die
I dreamed that God would be forgiving

Then I was young and unafraid
And dreams were made and used and wasted
There was no ransom to be paid
No song unsung, no wine untasted

But the tigers come at night
With their voices soft as thunder
As they turn your hope apart
As they turn your dreams to shame

He slept a summer by my side
He filled my dreams with endless wonder
He took my childhood in his stride
But he was gone when autumn came

And still I dream he’d come to me
That we would live the years together
But there are dreams that cannot be
And there are storms we cannot weather

I had a dream my life would be
So different from the hell I’m living
So different now from what it seemed
Now life has killed the dream I dreamed

Calling Nicaragua Home: A Look Back, 13 Years Later

It was 13 years ago that I first stepped onto the soil of the impoverished country of Nicaragua. My first trip to Nicaragua was made with the intent to reach the lost. No, they weren’t lost in the normal sense of the word. You see, I was on a Christian mission charged with the work of bringing people into the Kingdom of Jesus.

That eight day mission would forever change my life and heart. I met people who lived in abject poverty. I met children who made a garbage dump their home. They had so little, that we were mobbed one night when we brought out animal balloons for them. However, in the midst of their own poverty, they proved themselves to be a gracious people. They gave of what little they had each and every day to bless us and show their thankfulness. Every day it became more evident that the people of Nicaragua were not poor. Indeed they were rich.

That eight day visit to Nicaragua would later turn into a 4 month study abroad experience. I was allowed the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to live with and among the people of Nicaragua or Las Nicas, as we so affectionately called them. Every day as I walked the broken down streets, I was faced with reminders of the devastation left by war and earthquakes. Buildings that once were the pride of a city, still stood in ruins years later. On each corner stood a mama selling fruit or a papa cooking chicharones to sell and make ends meet. Then there was the middle aged man who would climb the bus every day calling “Chiclet peso! Chiclet peso!”, which means Chiclet (gum) for one cent! I always imagined that he had a family to feed, and that selling penny bublegum was the only means he had to fulfill their need. All these years later, I can still see his face. It haunts me at times, and I wonder if he was ever able to make a better life for himself and his family.

In those four short months, Nicaragua became my home and its people became my people. Looking back today at the current economic situation in Nicaragua, I see that not much has changed. The most striking constant in the lives of the Nicaraguans is that they are still indeed rich. They may not be rich in material wealth. Many may still lay their head on a dirt floor each night, but the rich heart of the people remains. I will be forever grateful for the opportunity to know the people of Nicaragua. Their grace in the face of poverty is a lesson I hope I never forget.

Cast Your Cares

Throw all your worry on him, because he cares for you.

1 Peter 5:7  ISV

Such a simple truth.  This is my mantra today as I walk the road less traveled .

He Cares For YouClick to Play Video