My Lord, the Soaps, and Me _Part One My addictions were many. As a housewife and mother, being accustomed to the familiar chaotic sounds associated with family life, finding myself alone brought a measure of discomfort. The daytime soaps which had so amused me when my mother and even my grandmother watched, were now my companions as I cleaned the house, folded clothes, and washed dishes. It seemed harmless in the beginning, but I soon found myself, a hopelessly addicted, soap opera junkie. I knew the time of day wherever I was, by the soap that filled that time slot. The plots were insane, and made me feel smugly normal. I always felt I knew how the writers would manipulate the characters. I needed to see if they would do it right. They usually did. Oh how I needed to see those plots unfold! My personal favorites began just after the midday news. News hour was when I did the chores that would be done outside of "the viewing area". One day just as a particularly interesting plot was about to unfold, a special news report broke in, and boy, was I ever mad!!! As I fumed, some of what the reporter was saying began to hit me. A construction worker had fallen from a hi-rise building. Not only did the poor guy fall, he fell on a pile of bricks and rubble. As the rescue team attempted to move him, his body looked as if it were made of jell-o. I began to pray. They said he was married and had a wife and a baby. Oh Lord, what if she was watching? I wept as they attempted to move him to the ambulance. Oh Lord, please, do not let him die!! Don't let his wife see him die. Please save him, Lord. What if that were my husband? The soaps seemed far away. Whatever happened to that man, and his family? He lived, a bit broken up, but still strong and determined. He and his wife had two young children. His wife got mixed up with some unsavory characters which led to her disappearance, and some years later, to her death. The young father had been frantic to find her. He never did, and was left to raise his children on his own. Until we met. It was quite some time before I realized who he was. I had even met his children before I met him! They used to walk across the street and asked to pick peaches from a tree in my front yard. They were so precious! They reminded me of my own children at that age. The day I met him, as they left, my heart ached as if I was seeing my family leave for the last time. I would probably never see them again, as he was moving, and so was I. We did see each other again. He is now my husband of twenty years; and his children, they're my children too. Part Two The oldest sometimes would say, "Hey, Mom, you're show poppers are on." There were things on those shows that were said and done, that I did not think young eyes and ears should see. So I tried to stop watching. It dawned on me that I was truly addicted to the daily dramas, to the point of wasting my own life. I vowed to quit. Three months, no show poppers. It was not too bad. I really had begun to enjoy life without the soaps!! One afternoon, while I was alone, at exactly the time I used to watch the soaps, I heard a loud voice. It said, "Turn the television on." What? No way. Unh,uh! That was weird. Once more the voice commanded, "Turn on the television." I was certain I was being tempted (don't laugh please) by Satan! I replied, "No!" Again the voice commanded very loudly, "Turn on the television!" That was not Satan. I immediately turned on the television set. It was not a show popper. Hardly. It was the signing of the OSLO peace accord. I watched in absolute amazement as the leaders signed and shook hands. As they signed the documents, on a beautifully clear day, it thundered. Seven times. The thunder was so powerful the windows in my home rattled. I was rattled, and shook and wept. What did it mean? There is still no peace. None. But I hope someday to know why it was so very important that I witnessed the signs. Please pray for peace.