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By Ann Farabee

No doubt we have all participated in a game of hide and seek.

Everyone knows the rules.

The person who is “it” counts aloud to a pre-selected number like 10, while everyone hides.

“It” then says something like, “1.2.3.4.5.6.7.10! Ready or not, here I come!”

“It” begins looking for the people who are hiding.

The word look is different from the word seek.

To look means to see it or pay attention to it.

To seek means to go in search of something.

If you are playing with children age 5 or under, and you are “it,” finding those who are hiding while playing indoors can be pretty simple. Look around. Stand still. Listen for whispering, giggling and rustling sounds. Walk toward those sounds.

As “it,” I never let the children know that I know where they are. I make a huge scene  while slamming doors and wondering aloud, “Where in the world could they be?” Then, I make loud announcements like, “I think I will look in the kitchen! I bet he is hiding in there!”

There was that one time though…

One little hider had not been located.

I looked everywhere.

Looking everywhere was not successful, for I was only looking with my eyes.

I needed to seek for him.

I knew he had to be near — so I called out his name.

No answer.

I noticed the blanket on the floor of the closet I had looked at earlier.

This time — I decided to lift up the blanket, so I could seek for him.

There he was.

Safe, secure and soundly sleeping.

Seeking for him had mattered.

Looking for him had not been enough.

Does God’s word mention hide and seek?

Adam and Eve hid from God, but God knew exactly where they were.

Jonah hid from God and ended up in the belly of the whale.

“He is our hiding place,” — Psalm 119:114

“We are to seek him while he may be found,” — Isaiah 55:6

Hiding from God? Impossible.

He knows exactly where we are.         

Ann Farabee is a teacher, writer and speaker. Contact her at annfarabee@gmail.com or annfarabee.com.

By Ann Farabee

Addiction is vicious.

My father and brother died from it.

My adult children struggled with it.

It separates you from those you love.

It feels like a private journey because it is difficult to share.

With drug addiction, heartache comes.

As does pain.

Some overcome.

Many do not.

Some overcome and relapse.

Then they overcome — and relapse again.

It is a cycle that for many never ends.

But sometimes it does.

Even if a relapse comes, they still overcame — for a while.

Hopefully, they will overcome again.

The road can be long. It usually is.

For some — once the problem begins — it lasts a lifetime.

If only the pain was just for the user of the drug — that would seem a little more fair.

But the pain also belongs to those of us who love them.

We wait for the call that no one wants to get — but fully expect.

The actively using addict tends to be self-centered.

They focus on their need for drugs — and on nothing else.

It controls their thoughts.

Priorities are re-prioritized — and the normalcy of their lives slips away.

It is so sad to watch — and to experience.

Does this mean we do not love them? No. We love them immensely. We love them enough to keep them in the corner of our mind 24 hours a day every day of every week of every month of every year — even if we rarely see them.

For approximately 2.7 million grandparents in the United States, that love is shown to their adult children who are addicts, when they take over the parenting of their addicted children’s children — their grandchildren.

Our boys came to be ours when I looked through the window of their home and saw one of them, who should have been playing and enjoying the joys of being a four year old, rubbing his mother’s head and trying to comfort her as she lay on the couch, lethargic and oblivious to his presence in the room.

That was when we knew. The children had to be safe. So we took them with us. We began to send them back less and less frequently, until one day, we all realized that our home had become the place our grandchildren would call their home.

We did not do that to their parents — we did it for their parents.

Proverbs 31:8 says, “Speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves.”

The children were too young to speak for themselves.

They deserved better.

We would give it to them.

Our journey as grandparents raising grandchildren had begun.

Thirteen years later, we are still on that journey.

Lord, be with the addict. Be with their children. Be with those who love an addict. Amen

Ann Farabee is a teacher, writer and speaker. Contact her at  annfarabee@gmail.com or annfarabee.com.

By Ann Farabee

I don’t remember when. I don’t remember where. I don’t remember how.

But I do remember that I had no idea what to do.

It was — the roundabout.

I hate that my parents did not live to enjoy roundabouts. My dad would have gone all the way around one several times, just for fun. My mother, on the other hand, would definitely slow traffic down. Driving 5 mph would not have been fast enough.

What good are roundabouts?

Experts say:

• They slow us down.

• There is one way travel.

• They are safer.

• They improve traffic flow.

• They require yielding to others.

• We won’t be tempted to beat the stoplight, because there aren’t any.

I just about had roundabouts tackled until I came across three in a row.

Three roundabouts and my equilibrium do not go well together.

But, obviously there is a purpose for them. I mean — they are in the Bible, right?

You know — where Psalm 34:7 says that the angel of the Lord encamps roundabout his people forever.

As for camping, it has never been my favorite thing to do.

The daytime is fabulous — but the nights — not so much.

My last time in a tent overnight was on a trip to the mountains with around 100 members of our church. At dark, we would gather around the campfire to sing, testify, talk and roast marshmallows.

Then tent time came.

Sleep did not.

It was too dark to sleep.

My eyes opened. My eyes closed.

It looked the same — dark.

What were those noises? Everyone was asleep — I could hear them snoring.

What is that? Have you ever heard an owl? The screeching was horrendous.

Why is everyone still snoring?

What is that? Something brushed by our tent — on my side, of course.

Not only did I hear it — I felt movement against the side of the tent.

No doubt. It had to be a bear.

I then chose to stay awake all night to listen for bear noises, so I could scream to alert everyone, if needed.

If only I had remembered this important information about camping:

The angel of the Lord was encamping roundabout me.

To encamp means to settle in and establish. Roundabout means you go in one direction around the center.

The angel of the Lord encamps round about us, settles in, and establishes himself in our life situations, as we head in one direction toward our heavenly home — to be with Jesus forever.

Some times — some days — some long dark nights — we may not feel that the protection he gives us while he is encamping roundabout us will be enough.

But, when we doubt, we may just need to read on to the end of Psalm 34:7.

The end of the verse says that God delivers us!

God’s promise from God’s word brings victory — every time.