B's a Buzzin' & Praisin'

A Long Short Story

2017-02-22T08:21:00.003-06:00

The long fingered rays of the warm evening sun-brushed her cheeks with the softness of a dewy kiss in the quietness of the country evening. She strode along the edge of the woods, seeking calmness. The fragrance of the crushed ripe summer grass filled her nostrils along with the scent of wild daylilies as they closed their faces with the coming of evening. The rapturous beauty of this competing nature was filling her joyfully with the essence of sweet yearning for the coming night.

It would be a quick trip to Louisville, but the long year had ended, and the new life was about to start. At two o’clock in the morning, her soldier boy would arrive, via taxi at her Grandparent’s house; his tour of duty in Europe was over, and she was going to collect him and together they would shortly arrive at their home. They had been married less than a year when he got his call to serve and now was time to put their lives back together, welding the temporarily broken cord back into wholeness, so that the seam would so effortlessly blend, no scar of separation would ever show.

It was time to make promises of caution to her Mother, put gas in the Plymouth, lock the doors, and head north-east. The sun was now releasing its hold on the day, casting a pleading glow over her shoulder and soon the headlamps would be needed. Purple shadows mingled in mysteriousness with the dark green of the cedars and puddled in the dips and crevasses of the rolling hills. A strange peace filled with loneliness and expectation filled her heart. At times her fingers would tremble with excitement on the steering wheel.

The music on the only clear AM radio station was of the sentimental country genre. She turned it low and let her thoughts soar and take her on a side trip through the future as she drove the familiar back county roads to the big highway that would take her to the flow that endlessly poured into the looming city. “What would their future hold? Where would they be in the far distant time, say five years? Would family grow, would love last, would they still be the perfect fit as they grew to be an even stronger “one”?”

The music soothed and lulled from station WHAS, the songs in her head changed often in tempo, rhythm, and emotion, the miles passed. Finally, she was there, it was deep in the night in the little upstairs room on Magnolia Street, She was sitting on the window ledge, and the taxi blew its horn…

They were the same, they had not changed. God blessed mightily!

Life happened so suddenly, it was breathtaking. I all but spin and have to sit down when I think of the speeding time, the blur of memories, the milestones that can only flash by. Love was multiplied over, over, and again, children, grandchildren, exploding change, sameness, new experiences, old memories relived, all happened in two or three heartbeats. We had thoughts of “strong health, vibrant life, and continued love going on forever” till we were surprised by weakened bodies and changes so subtle that often we ask “What has happened! Who are we?”

Yes, even the love has changed, the blush of fresh love and the sharing of the same breath and thoughts of an earthy heaven has deepened and become a thing that has a life of its own, it depends on each of us for its being, and we depend on it for our being. It is composed of endless compassion, of two minds and desires that think and act as one. It is a remarkable blessing from God, when we find after a lifetime of laughing, crying, spatting, growing, and startling changes, yet we are “one” and are so more each day.

It had been 58 years since the night time trip to Louisville when my eyes were fastened to the dark roadway lit by yellow lights, while the eyes of my heart were fastened on the end of the road that held my future. I could not have had a better trip, anyway I look at it.

RESPITE of a Sort

2015-08-28T17:38:00.001-05:00

After a busy morning with Harper Kate, a toddler who was chattering, pointing, giving intelligible and unintelligible verbal well as non-verbal directions with a steady stream of noooooooos thrown in, (and even though I loved every second of it) for her own good I finally took a stand. It happened by the side of her nest napping crib she could have been asleep... I cleared my throat and whispered, "you're not the boss of me." Of course, this edict will be subject to change when she awakens. —

b's baubles

2015-02-28T20:54:00.000-06:00

"b's baubles & necessities"
2014 Inventory sale:
There is no shipping charges If you are local or can pick up. $2.00 for shipping will cover up to 8 pieces.
1. Red and white European style beaded bracelet is strung on red suede (real) 71/2" long Sale price
$12.00
2. Large purple and black crystals necklace 15" with earrings - gun metal chain and findings. Sale price $25.00
3. Gold filled necklace 16" with earring with crystals classic style . Sale price
$20.00
4. Apple green large acrylic beads- earrings- necklace 16"-bracelet stretch fits med. to lg. Sale price
$20.00
5. SOLD necklace large crystal encrusted pendant.
6. Sterling sliver double chain charm bracelet 8"-heavy s.s. clasp with gemstone- mixed beads Sale price
$ 20.00
7. European bead necklace on red suede(real) knotted flat cord 20" Sale price
$14.00
8. Silver cuff bracelet 13/4" wide-61/2" long with 1" opening. handcrafted lg. cabochon with shells encased in resin-triple beaded edge. suede frame with ties and and silver dangle beads Sale price
$ 18.00

THE CHICKEN TRIP

2015-02-01T16:37:00.001-06:00

It is so strange, the beginning of a new year always sends me backwards in my thoughts. Perhaps it is because there is so much more time behind me than in front of me. I am 77 years old; turning 78 in February. I live a full and happy life in "real" time, however past memories have a way of holding me in their ethereal grip and I go stumbling along after them like Alice tumbling down the rabbit hole.

Today I was wandering in a fenced in yard; I see wooden steps leading from an unpainted clapboard house, long skirts, and aprons. Where has this come from? Oh, yes...now I remember.

Dust flew from the barren yard, feathers were flying, the chicken was squawking, my great aunt was singing, and I was running, toward the action.

At an age in the four or five year range, I most often stared at peoples feet or their middles, and even that was a stretch. Long skirts hovering above sturdy dark shoes tied with strings;, aprons of printed feed sacks (I later realized.) None of these were as pretty as my sailor dress made by my mother, or my little white shoes that had several straps that snapped around my lower leg. I was a city girl, and this was definitely not the city.

It was not Aunt Mae, or Aunt Grace since I remember their benevolence to a slightly wild child. It was a great aunt on my mother's side; her name long gone. In a flurry she caught the unlucky bird and handed it over by its feet to my grandmother who then proceeded to wring its neck. I wonder what child today could stand the trauma, and live a normal life after experiencing such, but I did. I really didn't care about the chicken because earlier in the day her rooster husband had chased a little red headed girl (me) up those shaky steps and pecked the fire out of the back of my legs.

My grandmother was proficient in her neck wringing procedures and soon it was over, The hapless bird flopped aimlessly (of course, without a head, she was directionless) in the dirt and landed at my feet. Then there was a second round with a new bird; about then I was lifted in my mother's arms and comforted over something I was feeling no unease about. I loved fried chicken. But, first I had to get away from the smell of scorched feathers.

During the time of feather plucking I headed to the garden in the side yard. I looked for Mr. McGregor in the cabbage patch. I watched my daddy dig potatoes from the dark rich earth and later I gobbled mashed potatoes with red scraps of skin still in them.

Life seemed fun here on the farm; far away over many hills from my tame and quiet town yard. The women, I remember many there that day, laughed and called to the big children to come help. They stirred and cooked and put all the food on a big table covered with the prettiest table spread. It was printed with red, yellow, and green apples all over its slick surface. I put my nose close to the table and took a lick, it smelled and tasted funny; Mother said it was oil cloth, it could be wiped clean.

The large blue crock was my favorite happy memory of that day, it was filled to the rim with a deep yellowish whipped cream, I could have fallen into it and been drowned if I wanted to, and for a moment I did want to.

Late in the day my daddy carried me to my grandfather's sedan, I think I remember the word "Nash." It was big and held us all, our family of four, and Poppa, Mamma and three of their younger children who came that day. We doubled up, I sat in my uncle's lap, he was only 14 and beautiful, I remember planting a tiny little smooch on his cheek before I said my traveling prayers and fell into a deep and deserved sound sleep; maybe he didn't notice. I've always wondered.

Oh my, I'm back now, and how I enjoyed the visit. These memories have been as deeply asleep as the nap I took on our way home from the country. What dredged them up today? I think maybe, the chicken dish I made such a mess out of for lunch, I ate it anyway, just to show my husband it wouldn't kill a person, but later tonight I may take a chicken trip of another kind, it could be rather like a nightmare...

2014-10-03T08:18:00.000-05:00

Night falls, oh yes, it does. The four dark corners untangle from the heavens falling in gentle folds sliding under the stars, and settling with great tenderness on my world covering all the broken pieces of the day with the weight of comfort, and the promise of hope in the new dawn to come.

My heavenly Father holds the night tenderly in hands; if I listen I can, we can be comforted as he breathes his sweet peace in the hearts of his restless children.

The night; a time of rest and refreshing.

The night; excitement comes alive and living continues in a different mood and mode.

The night; your world closes in and hurt and pain fall fresh, shattering the blackness surrounding you.

The night; fading as day breaks.

Often, when preparing for a time of deep sleep and recharging; I search and find peace in the Psalms. There, warm reminders permeate body and soul and are as personal as my comfortable fleece throw. "You own the day, you own the night; you put stars and sun in place. You laid out the four corners of earth, shaped the seasons of summer and winter." (Psalms 74:16 MSG) I acknowledge the greatness my God, and I am transported to a place of trust, rest and strength. He possesses my days, nights, all my seasons...my very life, and as in days of old, the words from childhood still bring sweet comfort knowing my Father is near; "Now I lay me down to sleep..."

Night-life, most often now means the couch and lounge chair with feet extended and heads back, except for nights hubby and I gather with our church family for prayer, praise, and fellowship, with an overarching time of worship. But leaving home in the evening for times of entertainment for entertainment’s sake is coming less and less. I still love a decent movie and enjoy dinner out with good company in a relaxing atmosphere, no after clean-up just a pleasant afterglow, memory making times.

It is lovely walking in our beautiful riverside park in the evenings with the moon reflecting in the black water, while the fountains compete with the stars in their glittering display. Live music of every genre is playing in the background. There is even an old upright piano sitting under a gazebo waiting for some frisky fingers to come to add to the cacophony of music made under the stars. God is pleased with the good happiness of his children as they enjoy the things of the world he has made.

Oh yes—God takes pleasure in your pleasure!
Dress festively every morning.
Don’t skimp on colors and scarves.
Relish life with the spouse you love
Each and every day of your precarious life.
Each day is God’s gift. It’s all you get in exchange
For the hard work of staying alive.Make the most of each one! Ecc. 9: 7b-9 (MSG) .......................................not a trite message.

I do understand when experiencing night time refreshments I am extremely blessed. My husband and I still live, and we still love and care for one another. In this stage of our lives, despite our defective hearts, and dropping various body parts as we go; we function. Still experience awe, amazement, and tender times as we live out our years on God's beautiful earth. Especially enjoyable are times of twilight where lingers reflections of the day.

I don't live in a fairy tale, just as most of you, I have known the cold light of day when everything is rough and has sharp edges, I fight the despair that creeps stealthily on me as the sun disappears over the Ohio River and dips behind Indiana. These are the times I long for the Lord's intense touch; his comfort, his cradling; and for his peace, and I cannot fully understand his grace as it washes over and through my soul like an unrelenting river. It carries me along on streams of trust to the throne of the one who holds the answers, and eases the pain ; yes, these are nights of another kind indeed, and even then he provides.

"All things seem worse in the night." Nighttime may be a state of mind. No matter the light of day or the season of life we may find the night can harshly crash to the earth, and bringing fractured pieces of the day ground to ashes, never to be made whole again. Many fragments are too painful to be remembered, others; a living shard piercing physical bodies, emotions, and spirits. Night; the midnight blackness stealing rest and relief, and leaving grief and pain, echoing in the recesses of a wounded heart as it invades our inmost being. I'm not speaking of wallowing in self-pity, but of being overwhelmed, overtaken by life. Swept along by storms rushing down, a homegrown mountain of misery, and erupting ahead of the lava of heartbreak. It is even worse when we bring it on ourselves. Nighttime comes and self-accusation stands in stark relief against the darkness. Although reasons may differ, we can have empathy with David’s plea: "I’m tired of all this—so tired. My bed has been floating forty days and nights on the flood of my tears. My mattress is soaked, soggy with tears. The sockets of my eyes are black holes; nearly blind, I squint and grope." Psalms 6:6(MSG)

There are times I too have owned these "nights of the soul" experiences; only the Holy Spirit living within and amid my turmoil can understand and bring the solace I long for, as well as forgiveness for allowing myself to momentarily lessen my grip on trust. Until I release it to Him the nightmare and dread I can't awaken from goes on. As humans, we face in due time our final enemy; certain death. A day with no night, a night with no tomorrow on this earth as we step through the gateway. Knowing that heaven is waiting on the other side is our assurance. There are worse things to bear on this earth than the physical act of dying. I often think of the things people I love have borne. In each case, in a short time, the joy of the Lord became revealed through their lives again; they continue on.

Some things we endure can suffocate our happiness (that which depends on happenings) of life almost completely : deceit (a continuous killing,) betrayal (killing of self-worth,) lies (slaying of trust,) abandonment (destroying hope.) To use descriptive words for only these four categories would fill a thousand books. How many ways of deceit are there, how many kinds of betrayal...etc. Our Saviour faced them all. Jesus' prayer, his beseeching, his cry...can I comprehend? "He took Peter, James, and John with him. He plunged into a sinkhole of dreadful agony. He told them, 'I feel bad enough right now to die. Stay here and keep vigil with me.' Going a little ahead, he fell to the ground and prayed for a way out: 'Papa, Father, you can—can’t you?—get me out of this. Take this cup away from me. But please, not what I want—what do you want?'” Mark14:34-36 (MSG) Is this a prayer I could pray in of grief, could I surrender my needs?

To find the dawn, to search for the light becomes an all-consuming desire. Through times of faith testing surprisingly; I find opportunity. I come to know the Lord Jesus in a more intimate and trusting way, maybe even deeper than before the suffering and crushing pain. As I pray, listen, and wait, I trust his purpose for my life through this situation.

In our brokenness, as Christians, if we lean fully on the Lord we are reshaped, and start to resemble him, and awakened to the fact, he is the daylight, he is the song of the morning; he is stability for us in time of rising, and the strong protector of our hearts in the deep, black, midnight, he alone is our heart's joy.

The end of the long darkness, as the stars lose their strength in the rising of the sun, and the dew refreshes the face of the earth the Christian prays: "I have no strength; be my strength. I have no courage, be my courage. I have no will, be my will. I cannot stand under this, be my legs and feet. I have no more tears, hold me. I cannot carry these burdens, carry my load and carry me. As I hide my head in my hands, be the light that slips through my fingers, shine on me, and warm me. Be my life, my self-worth, my trust, and my hope. Cause my adoration for you, my God, to weigh more than my burdens for you alone are the steadfast joy in my heart."

Again he compels us to come to him, bring him our burdens; bring him ourselves. Because of the suffering he willingly endured, and the God he is; he understands our sorrows, and intensely, earnestly desires to bring the peace he has purchased for us. We can give him our night; our peace is in him. "Once again Jesus spoke to the people. (Including us; the restless in the night) This time he said ‘I am the light of the world! Follow me; you won’t be walking in the dark. You will have the light that gives life.” (CEV ) Emphasis mine.

As our Saviour, he is the light who sheds his presence while driving away any fears hiding in earthly night shadows. He cares for his children through eternity, starting now. I am assured those who fear— in awesome wonder—their holy God will receive these words, "Sunrise breaks through the darkness for good people—God’s grace and mercy and justice!" Psalms 112:4(MSG)

This we know and can rely on: "We often suffer, but we are never crushed. Even when we don’t know what to do, we never give up. In times of trouble, God is with us, and when we are knocked down, we get up again." 2 Corinthians 4:8-9 (CEV)
He brings peace, he is peace. Standing in the cool evening waiting for darkness to fall I sing with the night birds, “When peace like a river…” Ah, to know that river! ```````````````````

My Daddy's Dance

2014-06-18T10:47:00.002-05:00

Dancing, one more time, on a windy midnight with my Daddy...

The deep summer night was a bit more than warm; a moist upper western (with a touch of surface southern) wind was blowing with strangled gusts as though trying to gain the strength to stir all of the misty clouds into a "full blown" straight- line wind. I would worry about that later.

In the meantime I was enjoying my porch swing in the delicious darkness, I was (at that time) a night person. I scratched Zebo's ears, and ran my fingers through his curly red hair, the soft sounds that escaped this throat sounded like the purr of a cat; my sweet, gentle, loving cocker spaniel.

The blackness was complete; we lived in a country neighborhood. There was a house to the left of us and one across the street, others down the road on the other side of the barn. Distant security lights shed their glow in tight circles and invaded my yard not at all. I found an oldies station on my radio; it sat in the frame of the raised window, and it seemed to intertwined melodies from my memories in the singing swing chains. The wind pushed from the other side, and a rhythmic metallic creaking added another layer of music to night around me.

My husband wouldn't be home from work until midnight and I was experiencing a strange euphoria, a lightness, a secure feeling of peace, yet excitement was in the wind around me. I slipped my precious pup over to the pillow nestling by us, and settled him. I left the porch and wandered through the yard I knew by heart. I circled the huge sugar maple; the one we once tapped, and spent at least $70.00 trying to cook it down to syrup, we got about a pint; it was good, but we never tried again!

We had inherited, for a while, an old green glider, it sat in the grass. I sat on it and glode (?), glided for a while, its music wasn't pleasant; it grated, and awakened Zebo. We walked together on the lawn. The music changed; it was from an even older era. It beckoned; I complied; tossed off my sandals, the grass was not cool but comforting. My toes wiggled through the thick mat; I gazed at the lawn as though it was a living, moving being. White heads of clover were undulating in the moonlight adding to the, almost surreal, moment.

I breathed in great gulps of fresh country aroma; I call it the "green" smell; grass, trees, flowers, freshly turned earth, it all drifted around me on the "Westernly" Kentucky wind that lifted my skirts, tousled my hair, and breathed down my neck. It caused me to sway to its rhythm and to my Daddy's favorite songs drifting from the little plastic radio sitting on the window sill, the ones that grabbed my heart. I turned into the wind; I positioned my arms, as though he was holding me (trying once again to teach his graceless little girl to dance, to feel the beat) guiding me, leading me as he whistled to the melodies drifting on the wisps of the frisky wind.

I twirled, whirled, dipped, and circled. I stumbled;I laughed, and I cried in my Daddy's arms one more time, on a hot Kentucky night, with storm clouds rolling in; my puppy nipping at my heels. A low chuckle lifted to the tree tops as I whispered, "Must you go?" The car headlights broke through the heavy night and turned into our driveway as I gave God thanks for memories that had—for a moment— become flesh, breath and dancing feet.

Because of this one night of memories I have learned a beautiful thing; It is not keeping time to the dance, but the time of dancing that lingers timelessly.
Love you Daddy!
~~

Thank you Father for the earthly Father you chose for me, for the years past and the future we shall spend together. And thank you for words of yours he lived daily,they caused me to have a clear understanding of the kinship we all share!

1 Corinthians 13:3-10
The Message (MSG)
If I give everything I own to the poor and even go to the stake to be burned as a martyr, but I don’t love, I’ve gotten nowhere. So, no matter what I say, what I believe, and what I do, I’m bankrupt without love.

Love never gives up.
Love cares more for others than for self.
Love doesn’t want what it doesn’t have.
Love doesn’t strut,
Doesn’t have a swelled head,
Doesn’t force itself on others,
Isn’t always “me first,”
Doesn’t fly off the handle,
Doesn’t keep score of the sins of others,
Doesn’t revel when others grovel,
Takes pleasure in the flowering of truth,
Puts up with anything,
Trusts God always,
Always looks for the best,
Never looks back,
But keeps going to the end.
[U][FONT=Arial Black] Love never dies.[/FONT][/U] Inspired speech will be over some day; praying in tongues will end; understanding will reach its limit. We know only a portion of the truth, and what we say about God is always incomplete. But when the Complete arrives, our incompletes will be canceled.

The Message (MSG)* Reflecting this story; my hand painted memory bracelet, for my daughter.

I AM COMPELLED...

2014-05-21T14:34:00.001-05:00

We are compelled to "Live Deeply in Christ."

"And now, children, stay with Christ. Live deeply in Christ. Then we’ll be ready for him when he appears, ready to receive him with open arms, with no cause for red-faced guilt or lame excuses when he arrives."

1 John 2:28 (The Message)

John writes beautifully, soulfully, and with true concern about repentance, forgiveness and the Christian "way" for believers.

If browsing this Holy book (God's breath given to us in writing) for the first time one may ask, "Who are these believers, John is speaking of?" and "Who is this Christ?" As they continue exploring the Bible, they will find the answer, because it is a living book, it speaks to the hearts of men and it guides and directs "real" lives. It poses questions to ponder and speaks with clarity; it brings logic to naught and gives faith flesh and a heartbeat.

The quick answer: Christ is the same as God; He is God, and the salvation of mankind. A peacemaker who rescued us, (by his death on the cross) when we repent of our errors; the sin of our unbelief. He is the "reconciler" and makes us presentable (in our new-found purity) to Father God.

And, the Christian is one who believes that Jesus, the son of God, is truly Christ, and His death for us was real. God is love, and His people must be like Him. To live a victorious life, we must love others as well as ourselves.

Now we're back to the reminder to "Live deeply in Christ." Can I just as swiftly give directions for this? In a word, or two...just give your "all" up to Him. However, doing this becomes a more personal dilemma or a search for our own special need for help. Turn again to the book that holds all answers, one scripture making clear another.

"So, what do you think? With God on our side like this, how can we lose? If God didn’t hesitate to put everything on the line for us, embracing our condition and exposing himself to the worst by sending his own Son, is there anything else he wouldn’t gladly and freely do for us? And who would dare tangle with God by messing with one of God’s chosen? Who would dare even to point a finger? The One who died for us—who was raised to life for us!—is in the presence of God at this very moment sticking up for us. Do you think anyone is going to be able to drive a wedge between us and Christ’s love for us? There is no way! Not trouble, not hard times, not hatred, not hunger, not homelessness, not bullying threats, not backstabbing, not even the worst sins listed in Scripture:

'They kill us in cold blood because they hate you.

We’re sitting ducks; they pick us off one by one.' (Paul quoting Ps. 44:22)

"None of this fazes us because Jesus loves us. I’m absolutely convinced that nothing—nothing living or dead, angelic or demonic, today or tomorrow, high or low, thinkable or unthinkable—absolutely nothing can get between us and God’s love because of the way that Jesus our Master has embraced us."

Romans 8:31-39 (The Message)

Wow! This is how to live deeply in Jesus Christ! Why don't we put our trust in these words every single day, and live out our faith on the foundation and source of these words given to Paul? Now that is something I don't understand and I disappoint myself all too often by failing to do this.

I am the culprit causing the "felt, experienced, and noticed" rift between me and the Father (bad grammar; I know but ...) Not outside forces, I move away from safety, love, security, etc.; most certainly not God, he is unmovable. I am the one who retreats, and I must make the decision to draw near. I must use my will, after all it was given to me to bring glory to Him "who is above all names!"

As an explanation to the fresh Bible reader, the new searcher; they way I do this, make right my relationship with Him, is stay in His "Word!" I have a God-given compulsion to do so. I will be a victor; His word is my sword it fights for me in dealing with the things of life; with relationships (all,) distress (from any reason,) times of want (there are many kinds of needs,) wrong desires (many kinds of those too.) These thoughts are scattered all through the Bible. You will come upon directions for handling them almost on every page.

Yes, it is the living Word. You will begin to realize this fully as you read, and the Holy Spirit opens your understanding. And oh "Who is the Holy Spirit?" He is the one tugging at your heart in this very moment, and the best way I can answer is to say read on...

ONE EASTER MORNING

2014-04-16T07:27:00.000-05:00

THE CAUSE:
John 3:16 CEV "God loved the people of this world so much that He gave His only Son, so that everyone who has faith in Him will have eternal life and, never really die."

Love The Lamb:
John 1:29 NIV The next day John saw Jesus coming toward him and said, "Look, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world!"

Worship The King:
Luke 19: 38 NIV "Blessed is the King who comes in the name of the Lord!"

Luke 23: 48 CEV "A crowd had gathered to see the terrible sight. Then after they had seen it, they felt brokenhearted and went home."

As they left that torturous place that day so few knew a sacrificial Lamb had been slain, and a King would arise, and rule in any heart choosing to believe. The ransom was paid; humanity set free. He lives; death died! The glory of the cross; Father God's heart of love; Jesus bearing the sins of the world, my sins…your sins; I feel so inadequate to speak of it. I know the truths of the act; the facts, yet my heart is shredded when I read and think about it again.

Once I rise from stumbling over that obstacle (guilt) pure joy washes through me. Jesus suffered in a manner humans cannot begin to understand. With His God -power, He broke the hold of death: He made me worthy to be in the presence of holy God. He is eternal; He is eternally with me. He gave me soul healing; the finest gift! He arose, and He lives; the greatest truth.

1 Peter 2:24 The Message "He used His servant body to carry our sins to the cross, so we could be rid of sin, free to live the right way. His wounds became your healing!"

Praises, praises to my living King.

THE EFFECT:
John 14:3 New Century Version " After I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me so that you may be where I am."

James 1:22-25 New Century Version " Do what God’s teaching says; when you only listen and do nothing, you are fooling yourselves. Those who hear God’s teaching and do nothing are like people who look at themselves in a mirror. They see their faces and then go away and quickly forget what they looked like. But the truly happy people are those who carefully study God’s perfect law that makes people free, and they continue to study it. They do not forget what they heard, but they obey what God’s teaching says. Those who do this will be made happy."

It was very early that Easter's morning, during our Tennessee years; the day was not yet sunlit. We were all awake and happy, and because we were early for the service, we drove through the park to the stone wall overlook that encircled a bluff high above Lake Barkley. The water was a dull gray in the wee hours. Soon, at daybreak we would celebrate our risen Christ with a smallish but faithful group from our church.

Earlier, "in the still dark," the Easter baskets had been opened, well explored, sampled, and put aside for a later sugary feast. They would be emptied after dinner just in time for the egg hunt prepared by "ham filled," sleepy adults ready for "The" Sunday afternoon nap.

On a sugar high and excited by the unusual activity going on so early, the kids literally sprang from our car and immediately headed for the wall. It had a natural attraction for the boys; it lured them to an active adventure. Due to their sizes, I am sure it appeared as, "a rock precipice."

Our smaller daughter was not to be denied, so I lifted her up holding tightly to her hand and shivering in the dewy mist we walked for a while. As I was reflecting on the fullness of the Christian life, Jesus had bought for me, I glanced toward the east, and there on the lower edge of the sky were faint streaks of light teasing the night, making promises of an orange-hued dawn takeover. Already the day seemed warmer. The mist was rising and of course, as it continued up the bank its tendrils played "kissy" with my curly-"ish" hair, which shortly turned to fuzz.

The service (held in another area,) would soon start; we gathered our chicks; it was time to go.

It was time to go…, and time went; I don't know where, but it flew by. In half a breath 45-48 years passed and life happened all over the place. I'm going back someday and walk around that overlook. I know the air will be thick with the presence of my little family, of the thoughts invading my mind on that occasion. I will walk up the mound (so appropriate) where we gloriously celebrated, and I will worship my Lord in that spot once again, with a grateful heart for His sacrifice and my salvation, and the bit of glory He has let me taste; it leaves me with a great desire for more, so fill me Holy Spirit!

~
My desire for you is this; read the gospels*, go deeper this Easter season, pore over "living Word" with an open heart, be moved in your spirits for the blessings and glory of the Cross. You may travel along new paths, and find answers to questions never asked. Pray for a clearer understanding of His words, and a renewing of your hearts by absorbing the full meaning of His crucifixion, and resurrection. Have the will to be made aware of the "God directed" cause for His death, His resurrection, and the effect it can have on the everyday world in which you live.

Oh yes, and give Him praise when He answers.

Praises for the Cross and Happy Resurrection blessings!
And as we go...

"But now, God’s Message,
    the God who made you in the first place, Jacob,
    the One who got you started, Israel:
“Don’t be afraid, I’ve redeemed you.
    I’ve called your name. You’re mine.
When you’re in over your head, I’ll be there with you.
    When you’re in rough waters, you will not go down.
When you’re between a rock and a hard place,
    it won’t be a dead end—
Because I am God, your personal God,
    The Holy of Israel, your Savior.
I paid a huge price for you:
    all of Egypt, with rich Cush and Seba thrown in!
That’s how much you mean to me!
    That’s how much I love you!
I’d sell off the whole world to get you back,
    trade the creation just for you.

Isaiah 43:1-3

* gospels:

"Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John"

gospels: "Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John"

God is...

2014-03-11T08:56:00.000-05:00

Praises to the God of all creation! We’ve had two bright days in a row. The late-afternoon March sun is both reflecting from and shining through a dark-green tall-necked bottle perched in the middle of my deck table. One side of the bottle is in the direct light; the other is slightly turned toward the shadows of the porch. Thus, the difference in the ways it reacts to the rays of the sun can be seen.

From where I sit I can see one chair pulled back a bit from the table; the seat cushion is striped in both bright yellow and dark red; the yellow is drawing in the sun's warmth and the dark red is sending it out again.

The Holly bush,standing afar, appears as gilded silk, edged in gold reflections from the back-lit side; the near side seems to have swallowed the beams and internalizing them into velvet warmth of an emerald tinted midnight.

My spirits are lifted, and my thoughts drift deeper as I consider the ins and outs of the bounds of nature and the soul of man. The receiving and reflecting of both shout the glory of a creative God. In the order of nature, and in the free-will of man; God is and has always been!

The Father's natural world is both reflective and receiving in a per-ordained way, there is no choice, yet it grows and bears fruit. The desire to know God was placed in the heart of man from time's beginning. Our longing to receive and reflect is activated by belief and faith, (because of God's Son and through His Spirit.) We too grow and bear fruit.

I will live out my natural and spiritual existence in relationship with a holy God, absorbing and emitting His Spirit in this "fixed world." It was set in motion to be my earthly living womb; it carries me along to the birth of eternity, and when I cross through the entryway as time ends, I will forever know...

"In the beginning...God
Genesis 1:1

2013-12-22T20:39:00.002-06:00

"CHRISTMAS" as told in *Luke 2 (KJV)

The prologue:

"And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field,

keeping watch over their flock by night …"

Winter's chill is in the air, and the moon is a sliver of frozen light,

The world pauses, and silence wraps the shepherds in a holy hush.

The black crystal canvas of the sky reflects white flaming stars.

Singing voices, indescribable, suddenly overwhelm the waiting night.

A rhythm unknown to man came from the heavenly angel band.

The setting:

"…there was no room for them in the inn."

The travelers are offered a musty stable backed into the stony hillside'

A shelter found; a refuge, for a working man and his expecting wife.

There is a stirring, and others gather as the birthing time draws near.

Cows, donkeys, and sheep draw together taking it all in stride.

The mother softly weeps, while her husband the vigil keeps.

The coming:

"For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour,

which is Christ the Lord."

The baby Jesus is born; the celebration of glory, gentle but swift,

While Bethlehem sleeps on, God took His first breath.

This night, the soul of believing of man, became heaven-bound.

With purpose, the Lord came, bringing salvation, an eternal gift.

He grew, and followed His Father's plan, the Son of God, Son of Man!

The life:

"And Jesus increased in wisdom and stature, and in favour with

God and man."

A carpenter, and an humble fisher of men; a roamer he came,

Turning lives, calling men, answering His Father's call.

Blessed with healing in His fingers, and with words to fill the thirsty soul,

Trust, and have faith in Him, for heaven is offered in His name.

In contemplation, I kneel in place, so amazed by His saving grace.

His destiny:

Calvary.

"And when they were come to the place, which is called Calvary,

there they crucified him..."

(Luke 22:33a)

Without the reason for His coming, His birth would just be a beautiful story.

The epilogue:

Still He lives! "Looking unto Jesus the author and finisher of our faith; who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is set down at the right hand of the throne of God."( Hebrews 12:2*,)
He abides in heaven and His Holy Spirit dwells in you and me. "And I will pray the Father, and he shall give you another Comforter, that he may abide with you forever…" John 24:16*
~~~~~~

These words I have heard through the years, express so well (in part) who He is in reality. They remind me, call me and impart to me, a longing for His presence.
1. "He is the eternal who took on time."
2. "He is the hope of the world."
3. "He is the infinite who took on infancy."
4. "Bound by a manger, freedom came."
5. "He is God, son of God; seed of woman."
6. "He is God come down."
7. "He is mine."

Be blessed at Christmas, hold Him close throughout the year.

* All scripture is the old King James Version, which I consider most appropriate for the telling of Christmas; I am drawn to its poetic verse, and the way it pierces and speaks to my heart. It is my prayer these few words will lure you to fill in the missing parts by reading once again the beautiful, and powerful story of our Kings birth, it is found in many of the Bible's books, I especially enjoy Luke 2.

A GRANDMA'S REVELATIONS

2013-12-12T13:16:00.001-06:00

I've taken a break from the fun task of making Christmas goodies; slow but syncopated music fills the air; thoughts of family stir in my heart. I am spending imaginary time with my grandchildren this morning; the music leads the way; they flesh it out. I’m letting my ideas run their erratic course. Something like this…

The soulful weeping of the tenor sax causes wave-like movements of emotion within me when I hear the old blues music. The sensations are laid down in a layered formation; the foundation is the beat, and it builds on the story told ~ with or without words. I think the blues and jazz music often mingle. Jazz carrying the “be-bop” element is yellow bright, in contrast to the blues which are shadowy tones leaning toward bruised shades. Throw in an acoustic, or maybe an electric guitar, old-time southern piano, and the music can flow in either direction. I compare them to a pair of train tracks traveling along together, veering apart on occasions only to merge once more. I relish the ride.

I chuckle when I imagine repeating these thoughts to my group of six, “the world’s grandest” grandchildren, since they are incredulous when discussing topics that include “Grandma and deep thoughts and/ or feelings,” in the same conversation… Perhaps, the discussion would resemble this:

Them~ “Uh, music can make you emotional? Wha-ch ya’ mean? Sad? Happy?"

Me~ “No; I mean deep and personal, thought provoking…”

Them~ “Blues, jazz… weren’t they from a couple of centuries back? You can actually say the word ‘acoustic!’ You know what it means? Shouldn’t you be making chocolate-chip cookies? You said something about being moved; does that have anything to do with, uh, uh your bowels? No? I’m out of here!”

Me~ (in action and thought) I would (most likely) jump back into my grandma suit and become the comfortable object of their affection; the one they know so well. “Oh yeah?”

What if I told them (in my style) the memories I have of the strings of the classical guitar being artistically plucked by a young man in a black tuxedo. Twenty years ago this formal attire was foreign enough in our church, but not much less than the playing of a guitar. How the times have changed; we now have live music on Sunday mornings and no one has lost their hearing, no one has experienced deadly attacks due to the music’s rhythm pulling one's heart rhythm out of sync. I love it. I clap; yes, I clap! My grandchildren don’t mind this, but it is rather off-putting for them because I can’t keep time, I have to watch their hands without seeming to, but they notice; uh-huh.

Now; let’s go back to the young man and his beautiful classical music. (A sure-fire way to bring on another monumental sharing moment.) “I was lifted to another realm as worship fell all around. It was as though I was transported to the very gates of heaven. When his mini concert was over, I longed for more, my praise and celebration were wafting on the vibrations and sounds of strings being caressed by steel like nails on nimble fingers. I absorb this type of music thought my skin, and it goes right to the heart of me; it draws me to pure worship. My Lord and I; bound by the strong rushing flow, as though lashed together for all eternity by a melody, of salvation and thanksgiving”

This particular “soul swaying” musical conversation would surely bring forth glazed focuses, and lips twitching wordlessly while trying to keep up with the questions grandma’s reflections brought to mind. And, yes, I can read their minds:

Them~ (in thought only, taking care not to be audible since it’s near Christmas!) “Who is this woman, was that empty bottle of pure vanilla full when I came in a while ago? She has been looking at young men, in tuxedos? Where’s Grandpa? She thinks she has been whipped by music. Wonder if I should take her for a walk, better yet shopping? Classical music? It’s her speech that's classic!”

I do like to startle them occasionally; I break off a piece of my mind and let it casually slip out from behind my teeth and enjoy the air for a while. I think it adds emphasis to the points I try to make. Influencing the direction of their pathway is my desire. I pray they will investigate ~ be aware of ~ the life God has given them. My prayer is ~ as they pass through earthly circumstances ~ they will learn to look deep within themselves, to search out those special, spiritual, and often secret ways God speaks. He can use every life situation to make Himself known to a heart He is pursuing.

Some things I’m sure to say to my grandchildren, along the way, in general, and at most any time; in my own particular or, peculiar leading way. ”I, your Grandmother, am more than a plump, willing, and pleasing “patsy” (easy victim) for you, although I love being that. I am a real person; I have loved well, oh yes I have. I can fight; I have fought battles no one knows, and have been the victor. I can reason, and I understand you; I possess logic, and know without Jesus and His armor, I am lost. Seeking His knowledge and wisdom has strengthened my faith. My seasons on earth have not been lived in fairy-land, but in brick and mortar-land where feelings are important, yet experiences are vital. I’d like to think I’ve lived my life in His purpose. Christ living in me is my purpose.”

“God gave me some odd, but pleasing blessings; one of which ~ even though I have no rhythm, or play an instrument ~ is to be touched and re-defined by music. He also gave me the desire to share with you the woman who lurks inside your loving grandma, so from time to time I will. Be prepared, for although you may find this unsettling, someday as you look into a mirror I will flash across your face; you will see a bit of me in the way you smile, wink, or scratch your neck. Furthermore, when you speak I will slip through; you may swallow me down, but I’ll find my way back out again, for I’ll never be just a memory, I am a part of you.”

Remember, I love each one of you with all my hear. You ask can I do that all at once, and how can that be? It is a mystery of God. He owns my heart; I gave it away to Him many years ago, and He can work His wonders with it. One thing more; listen to the music! He may be singing the words in your heart, and yes, it’s ok ~ be emotional.

I’m going back to the kitchen now. Butter should be soft, come on in; we’ll turn the radio music on low and see what we can stir up…
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Here are some biblical truisms to instill in grandchildren as you use God~given instincts, talents, and special grandmotherly ways.

Proverbs 14: 1-13

1 Lady Wisdom builds a lovely home; Sir Fool comes along and tears it down brick by brick.

2 An honest life shows respect for God; a degenerate life is a slap in his face.

3 Frivolous talk provokes a derisive smile; wise speech evokes nothing but respect.

4 No cattle, no crops; a good harvest requires a strong ox for the plow.

5 A true witness never lies; a false witness makes a business of it.

6 Cynics look high and low for wisdom—and never find it; the open-minded find it right on their doorstep!

7 Escape quickly from the company of fools; they’re a waste of your time, a waste of your words.

8 The wisdom of the wise keeps life on track; the foolishness of fools lands them in the ditch.

9 The stupid ridicule right and wrong, but a moral life is a favored life.

10 The person who shuns the bitter moments of friends will be an outsider at their celebrations.

11 Lives of careless wrongdoing are tumbledown shacks; holy living builds soaring cathedrals.

12-13 There’s a way of life that looks harmless enough; look again it leads straight to hell. Sure, those people appear to be having a good time, but all that laughter will end in heartbreak. Sift and weigh every Word. (The Message Version)

Perhaps someday I’ll hear, “Well done good and faithful, Grandma’!”

MANY TOUCHES of GOLD

2013-11-22T20:46:00.002-06:00

Dark roiling clouds gathered over Tennessee and the newly turned “matte” brown football field; the game would start soon. Ah, if only the rain held off. The lowering sky held many layers and hues of somber, ominous colors. I embarrassed my family, but huddled anyway under a clean, white, plastic garbage bag found in the backseat of my car.

The raindrops were small, fast, and hard; I was hoping they would pass over quickly. However, as far as I could see over my shoulder, the heavens were playing a dark “cover-all” game, and I was losing.

Yes! The phrase “The things we do for family know no bounds!” kept flashing through my mind as I sat there on this cold November day in this cold November rain. The band and my majorette would soon start; I would rejoice, and enjoy the performance, feeling great pride! Knowing after the “half time” show my husband and I would hop in our warm, cozy car and head for Kentucky aided in my comfort.

Then God sent a spectacular thing to capture my attention and get my thoughts away from “woe!” ~ I may be the only person in the whole stadium to have noticed; I was so awe-struck; I found myself speechless. I didn’t want to spoil the moment by calling attention to it, or trying to explain what just happened with words…

As I peeped from under the white plastic on my head I spotted, flying in from the south, an enormous flock of large, fat, drab birds. I thought, “They look so miserable and dreary.” They were non-reflective and black due to the murky evening. I watched as they carved their way in an arc aiming their flight towards the east and then swooped around to the left, and headed north flying over the mid-field.

With nothing else to hold my attention, I continued to watch their flight-path. Suddenly, from the horizon behind the stadium, the hand of God made a sliver of a crack in the dense shroud of grayness and a late autumn shaft of sunlight broke through. It lasted only for seconds; it was not enough to warm or dry me, but it set on fire the birds above. As they were banking with left wings tilted upward and bellies exposed, their undersides turned into rippling liquid gold. They captured me as they shone and gleamed in the quick flash of sunshine, they were emblazoned on my eyes, and in my heart. Oh thank you Father for sharing this with me! The rare sight warmed me, and sent my mind on spiritual a path. It was the Lord’s pre-game show. Then, in the blink of an eye, they straightened their bodies and changing their course they turned back into the indiscernibleness and flew away.

After a time I ask my husband, “Did you see those birds?”
“The ones that just flew over?”
“Yes, those. What were they?”
“They were just Pigeons.”
“Oh.”

The gentle glow remained with me, and as I (more) gracefully endured discomfort, I thought of the wonders of my heavenly Father; His mercy, grace, and understanding for one of the least of His children. Did He remove me from my “uncomfortable” zone? No! Did He clear up the bad weather? No! Did He bless me “in the middle of it all” with something tangible? No! However, He most certainly did bless me “in the middle of it all” with an experience, one transporting me to His presence! He surprised; He delighted, and taught me (once again) to live beyond my circumstances.

I have used such a small and insignificant (on my part) example… there was no desperate need, or life-and-death situation, just me being rather petulant. I think the Lord wasn’t enjoying my mood. But, because He loves me, He favored me with just the slight of His hand. And, knowing me so well; He personally touched an inner place, quickening me to Himself. He being actively aware of my small inconveniences, causes me to think about the depth of His concern, and His solving power over the large issues we, as His children, face in this earthly life. He is our true source, and the only answer to every want, at all levels and in each happenstance.

The band was great, the twirler was beautiful and perfect; I was thrilled tho’ chilled! The game, sad to say, was of no consequence to us; we were there for the show, and it was over, and so were we.

In a reflective state, I bid my family a loving good-bye, the weather no longer mattering; the countdown had already started until we could be together again.

Our car seats are soft and dry. The radio turned med-low; a small battle ensued over elevator music and “old school” jazz; I won. While being lulled by the (sometimes hidden) melodies, I slowly drift into a semi-trance where the scenery passes by in a Technicolor blur; I don’t notice every single separate limb, branch or twig just the ambiance of the whole view from my window. There, just ahead flying low over the busy highway is a flock of dark gloomy birds. I hold my breath. I am aware; in this moment, everything is as it should be in my world. I slowly exhale praise, and a prayer.
~~

Ah, the lowly pigeon, once a sacrifice for sin; then came the Lamb, true atonement for men.

"But if he cannot afford a lamb, then he shall bring for his guilt offering to the Lord two turtledoves or two young pigeons, one for a sin offering and the other for a burnt offering. (Leviticus 5:6-8 Amplified Bible) God sacrificed Jesus on the altar of the world to clear that world of sin. Having faith in him sets us in the clear. God decided on this course of action in full view of the public ~ to set the world in the clear with himself through the sacrifice of Jesus, finally taking care of the sins he had so patiently endured. This is not only clear, but it’s now ~ this is current history! God sets things right. He also makes it possible for us to live in his rightness." (Romans 3:25-26 Amplified Bible)
AMEN

DOUBLE T'S. (Thanksgiving-Tennessee)

2013-10-31T14:48:00.001-05:00

There are many things to be grateful for in this harvest season and in this season of my life. I am so thankful for family far and near, and the fact my Hubby and I are still traveling, and enjoying all the time we can with each. These fall days we are visiting, and enjoying Kingston, TN. May I share my heart-thanks not only for all of my family but for this beautiful God-blessed area he has placed along a river, a lake and settled among gorgeous steep ridges and whisper quiet hollows.

I find there is excitement along the winding, rising and falling local roads of the East Tennessee ridge country. They are intriguing as well as amazing. I have many "holding my breath" moments.There are sharp, short curves, not to be seen around ahead of time, no long sweeping vistas, unless you are peering down from high above the valleys on an interstate speed-way! Care to come for a ride?

When driving, I never know what is waiting around the bend; the road (for the most part) holds my complete attention. From the corner of my eye, I appreciate the glory of gently colored turning leaves, an event which is late in arriving this year.

Occasionally, there are wisps of smoke rising from chimneys hidden deep in the woods, and I realize how heavily populated this area is even though camouflaged by wild, free beauty. I don’t dare to scan the trees as I would like, for the shoulders of the roads are close, and I sometime tend to veer where I am looking.

Though my eyes hold a steady bead on the road; my thoughts are prone wander. The branches of the hardy growth and undergrowth reach out to entice me, and cause me, in my mind, to skip through the patterns of shadows cast on the roadway in a dizzying driving dance, as I avoid their embrace. Occasionally I will lift my eyes to the rear-view mirror to see if that vine clinging to the trunk of an ageless golden maple tree really was a Mother with many appendages not wanting to let go.

Tennessee’s birds dodge and get caught in autumn’s breezy current, and I try using discipline to avoid my favorite pastime “watching!” Tit-mice, chickadee, the abundant cardinals, I can, for the most part ignore, but when a flash of blue with a pink-yellow breast crosses my vision; I throw caution to the wind and watch, as long as I dare. Ah, the bird of my childhood my “Blue Bird of Happiness.” Many of my young dreams and waking fantasies were induced by an imagined “sweetest melody” never actually heard. I give thanks for parents who gave me the desire to adventure after creative thoughts to see where they could lead; most importantly they taught me to trust Jesus at an early age, the greatest adventure.

Oops! I’m back to full awareness now; eyes still glued to the curves, and dips. The challenge of the back-lanes stirs a strange excitement. I revel in the challenge, and detect a slight taste of victory when I make the last turn. My car shifts down as we pull the steep hill; I suddenly slow down and swiftly make a sharp right sweep and careen down an equally sheer driveway. I apply the handbrake, emerge among falling leaves and scampering chipmunks.

My eyes are now free to take in the beauty around me as I slowly trek up the curving drive. I step upon great slabs of stone laid out to form a pathway that guides me to the door, all the while I’m giving thanks to the Almighty God, for oh so many spiritual and earthly things; the blessings of his beautiful self, his nature lavished upon the earth, all of my family, and my safety are enmeshed in glorifying praises in this precious moment!

Wherever you are; sing with me…out loud:

Praise God from whom all blessings flow. Praise him all creatures here below. Praise him above you heavenly host-praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost!!!

1 Chronicles 29:10-13 (The Message)

David blessed God in full view of the entire congregation: Blessed are you, God of Israel, our father from of old and forever. To you, O God, belong the greatness and the might, the glory, the victory, the majesty, the splendor; Yes! Everything in heaven, everything on earth; the kingdom all yours! You’ve raised yourself high over all. Riches and glory come from you, you’re ruler over all; You hold strength and power in the palm of your hand to build up and strengthen all. And here we are, O God, our God, giving thanks to you, praising your splendid Name.

THE DISTANCE BETWEEN

2013-10-16T11:32:00.001-05:00

The drawer on the right-hand side on my computer desk holds various and sundry of things, as I am sure

yours does. My prized possessions in there are pencils and a fist full of wooden or plastic rulers. I think I developed this obsession in the third grade, and I seem to be stuck there.

The pencils: I’ve always doodled, sketched, and killed time with a sharp lead point. The rulers: I can’t explain that fascination. I think it has to do with the four straight edges and the perfection of it; I desperately need some perfection in my life, and evidently, it must come from an outer source!

Yesterday, I dropped rather heavily into my desk chair. I just needed time to think and let my brain stop whizzing in circles for a bit. The computer screen was dark… good! I did not want to be distracted by anything, and for a while, I wasn’t. But there, gracing my desk in all of its “finger stained, natural wooden” glory was twelve inches of pure “thought~capturing” diversion.

A ruler, reflecting older times in my home-town, had made its way to the desktop, and compelled my fingers to trace its smooth “silken with use” length and read the inscription printed indelibly so long ago. The name of the company, the address, and then, “Live Plants in Season” ~ it mentioned roses, bedding plants, etc. I was hooked; I flipped it over, expecting to see, perhaps, a blank side, but no… “Plant Guide” ~ ok then!

I read, the wheels turned, and God led.

Sub-title:
(On a ruler? Yep, there is.)
“Distance Between Plants”

4″-6″ Lettuce, Beets, Carrots, Onions, Beans.
On down the ruler I kept reading, and at the bottom was 36″-48″ Muskmelon, Watermelon. If it was spring-time I could use this ruler to plant the correct distance from each tomato to the other!

Um, how about studying other meanings or measurements of the word “distance?” First, please understand these are my conclusions.

About the distance between neighbors, my mother always quoted her father’s saying, “Fences make good neighbors.” I agree with that. To my way of thinking, a good neighbor keeps neat borders in the front yard where they can publicly visit. Fenced in back yards are private domains, and “only” when invited to step through the gate and visit in the back yard, do you know you are getting more personal and involved in a sincere friendship.

The distance between friends can be a good or bad thing. Take care not to cross lines. In my youth, I doubt I followed my own advice. Friendships are to be treasured, and can turn fragile when there is too much contact, or interference, or misguided guidance is offered without praying for wisdom before speaking. I don’t want to distance myself from a friend in a cold way, but in a cautious way, to preserve the connection we make by choice, as we are drawn to care and share with each other.

Then there is this: distance between family members. Often it is not measured in inches but in miles, whether the distance is due to dwelling areas, or distance due to emotions. I feel so sorry for families who have scant love for each other, and have no desire to be together. I consider the yearning to enjoy each other’s company the gold star in relationships. Certainly, with closeness comes our feelings, which can be hurt, occasionally boundaries are ignored as we flounder in the act of developing into the family God would have us be. Forgiveness is the greatest blessing He sheds on a family and all other relationships. “Love for family” is naturally instilled in us by the Lord, but forgiveness is an “ask and you will receive” deal. He has offered a blessing only He can supply, forgiveness will adjust distance between loved ones according to His preference.

Finally, distances concerning God and His children (Christians) can be described as “He is close as our breath,” when our relationship is loving, obedient, and learning. They can reflect an edgeless dark chasm when we have erred, strayed, or just ignored the God of the universe. How close we think we are to the Father is based upon our perceptions rather than scripture. How “distant” we get from the truth when we choose not to read and immerse ourselves in His word, and begin to trust our own understanding. “With all your heart you must trust the Lord and not your own judgment.” Proverbs 3:5 CEV

In repentance and worship, we must always remember, Jesus made promises to us: “I’ll never let you down, never walk off and leave you.” Hebrews 13:5 The Message

Does He hear me? Is He always truly near? “I will answer their prayers before they finish praying.” Isaiah 65:24 CEV. That means yes, He is near, always.

It is a matter of trust; do we trust Holy Scripture? God’s word? “Do not panic. I’m with you. There is no need to fear for I am your God. I’ll give you strength. I’ll help you. I’ll hold you steady; keep a firm grip on you.” Isaiah 41: 10 The Message. This sounds as if He is indeed very close to you, and to me.

This nearness to God we can experience is due to one thing, one person, and is expressed in Ephesians 2:13, first in “The Message” Version, and the repeated in the New Century Version. “Now because of Christ ~ dying that death, shedding that blood ~ you who were once out of it altogether are in on everything.” And this… “But now in Christ Jesus, you who were far away from God are brought near through the blood of Christ’s death.” I like how it is stated in both versions; once we were afar, now we are near.

Therefore, those scriptures seal it; there is no distance between Father, Son, Holy Spirit, and His children.

The best bibical use of the word “distance” in modern vernacular when speaking of our neighbor, our friend, our families, ourselves is: He went the distance for us and now is eternally near.

Again, thinking of “distance” in relation to my neighbor, friend, family and myself… I am led to John 17:21-22: Living Bible: “My prayer for all of them is that they will be one of heart and mind, just as you and I are, Father ~ that just as you are in me and I in you, so they will be in us, and the world will believe you sent me. I have given them the glory you have given me ~ the glorious unity of being one, as we are~”

My salvation is His glory; His prayer is my glory. He desires closeness to us.
He desires us to experience a nearness to each other, just like onions and carrots! (See ruler.)

Then in verse 23: New Century Version. “I in them and you in me, all being perfected into one ~ so that the world will know that you sent me and will understand that you love them as much as you love me.” This is blessed assurance.

I’m happy my ruler caught my attention and carried me on a spiritual path for a while. I must now inch my way toward the kitchen and see about supper.

To understand the depth of love the Father has for us, and how vast, no ruler can measure, read Luke 22, and enjoy, worship, and praise; draw near!

THE DEER'S CRY

2013-08-03T13:48:00.002-05:00

I am standing in the dappled shade of shallow woods. Through the low-hanging branches, I see liquid diamonds sparkle as ripplets bounce off the partially submerged sand rock in the creek. The stream slowly winds its way, in no hurry, to join a rushing great river. I am still, barely breathing; I ignore the tickle by the side of my nose. My elbow is nudging a scaly sycamore; it holds me steady as I lean toward the scene before me.

A young doe is inching her way down the steep bank this very early morning. She sniffs the air, checking for signs; she slowly turns her head toward me. We are each captured by the other’s stare, I blink; she is released and turns away; her safety is assured; the water calls and she continues on her downward way. I ponder as sleep evaporates; the dream loses its grasp, and I awaken.

This morning, in the aftermath of the vision (?) an old Celtic praise song is compelling me to worship; along the way it leads me to scripture:

As the deer pants for streams of water, so my soul pants for you, my God. My soul thirsts for God, for the living God.” Psalms 42:1-2a (NIV)

God uses the gentle deer and all nature to bring glory to Himself.

The background story goes: Saint Patrick composed this powerful prayer in the year 433. He was aware that there was an ambush to try to kill him and his group en route to the King’s court. It was during the march that they chanted the sacred Lorica or The Deer’s Cry ~ later known as St. Patrick’s Breastplate. (Ephesians 6: 10-18) As the druids lay in hiding, ready to kill, they saw not Patrick and his men, but a gentle doe followed by twenty fawns; St. Patrick and his men were saved.

~So, I seek the words and melody that dwell in the chant (transformed to music) of an ancient Irish saint. With modern technology, I find it; I care not that it is delivered on the edge of the unknown. I just give myself to it and allow worship to wash through my ears to the heart of me. In my spirit, I stand with one foot in heaven and in the flesh one foot is under my computer desk. I praise along with the moving melody, and desire God’s protection and presence. “Hear my cry too, oh Lord, just as you hear… ”

“The Deer’s Cry”

I arise today through the strength of heaven
Light of sun, radiance of moon
Splendor of fire, speed of lightning
Swiftness of wind, depth of the sea
Stability of earth, firmness of rock

~ These words astound me, He is in all nature; He protects, uses, surrounds and blesses me with all He is.

I arise today,
through God’s strength to pilot me:
God’s might to uphold me,
God’s wisdom to guide me,
God’s eye to look before me,
God’s ear to hear me,
God’s word to speak for me,
God’s hand to guard me,
God’s way to lie before me,
God’s shield to protect me,
God’s host to secure me:
against snares of devils,
against temptations of vices,
against inclinations of nature,
against everyone who shall wish me ill,
afar and a near,
alone and in a crowd.

~The rendition is hauntingly beautiful; it causes to me be aware: all Godly attributes are blessings, and all nature has God in its heart. God can speak through all He has made or breathed into existence, and man and nature respond.

Psalms 19:37-40 “Blessed is He who comes, the king in God’s name! All’s well in heaven! Glory in the high places!” they shouted.
Some Pharisees from the crowd told him, “Teacher, get your disciples under control!”
But he said, “If they kept quiet, the stones would do it for them, shouting praise.”
(The Message)

~And there is more…

Psalms 19:1-4 (CEV) “The heavens keep telling the wonders of God and the skies declare what he has done. Each day informs the following day; each night announces to the next. They don’t speak a word, and there is never the sound of a voice. Yet their message reaches all the earth, and it travels around the world.”

~The song’s refrain picks up in intensity. It moves and rolls like a rip~tide throwing the ocean on to the shoreline and dragging everything (our sin) back to bury in the deeps. This reflects the never-ending strength of our heavenly Father, who loves and protects His own.

The plea, the prayer, and the song goes on…

Christ to protect me today,
Christ with me,
Christ before me,
Christ behind me,
Christ in me,
Christ beneath me,
Christ above me,
Christ on my right,
Christ on my left,
Christ in breadth,
Christ in length,
Christ in height,
Christ in the heart of every man who thinks of me,
Christ in the mouth of every man who speaks of me,
Christ in every eye that sees me,
Christ in every ear that hears me.

~We, the deer and I, are well covered to live this day in God’s gracious care.

Ah, Amen.

LITTLE COLORED STONES

2013-07-17T16:37:00.000-05:00

The colored bits of glass, stones and metal are strewn across the work table before me. I stir them with a searching finger. This is not an aimless pursuit, but one of waiting for the colors, texture and my imaginings to all come together and to loosely form a design for a new piece of jewelry.

This will be costume jewelry because the findings and pieces of metal needed will be of the plated or filled variety, unless I choose copper. Today, I think I'll use gemstones, crystal, ceramic and maybe a resin mix.

The solid rainbow lying out before me has made a decision. The aqua, blues, and greens seem to arrange themselves asking to be the chosen ones, so they will. The bracelet, will be called "blues jam" because that's the way I've been feeling lately (a touch of reality) and for how I will attach them, all jumbled up on the silver chain (the way I feel like working.) Also the name reminds me of food, and I get hungry when I design. For some reason, this activity makes me think about all kinds of food…I don't know why; I just go with it. I twist, turn, bend and adjust my fingers while the pages of my mind are flipping through recipe books!

As I began the pleasing task of adding the beads and other adornments I make a determined effort to distract my mind from food and spend the time thinking of the scriptures; can I think of scripture that gives spiritual legitimacy to my hobby and crafting of something so nonessential as costume jewelry?

Well can I? Ummm…let me search the scripture.

"Don't worry," answered the priest. "The Lord is pleased with what you are doing."
Judges 18:6 CEV

Grabbing a scripture just by flipping through a Bible's pages may not always be the best way to find an answer, especially without first reading the background, even though at first sight it seems to be.

True, this scripture is speaking of people who were subsidiaries to the tribe of Dan as they sought a land to call their own. Also true is the fact the priest, even though he was a Levite he was into idols, and was rather wishy-washy with both God and man. From commentaries, I understand he used "methods of divination" to get the desired answer for the crowd. This was not of God's doing; I won't use it as my reference for legitimacy.

I will search further, and as I do I must ask myself; whose approval do I truly desire, am I more concerned about what my peers think, or what God, my heavenly Father, thinks??

"Our purpose is to please God, not people. He alone examines the motives of our hearts."
1 Thessalonians 2:4, NLT

And then I remember reading in Matthew recently: "But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well." Matthew 6:33 NIV

So, perhaps I won't find my answer in a word-for-word instruction as in, "Rhea do this!" but, in reading scripture, praying, and understanding the intent of God's will in my life. It is a matter of priorities as well as choices. As I put God first; in position, in the matter of time, in love, and worship; in return, he blesses me with appreciation for the colors of his world; he gives me the ability to feel, touch and form objects; I experience satisfaction, job well-done.

I hope I speak for all Christian scrap bookers, photographers, seamstress, and hobby masters of all ilk; God has placed deep gratitude in us for the things with which he has decorated this world. It is his pleasure to bring us happiness by planting in our lives the talents to see a little differently and use what he has so lavishly spread before us to complete our lives and also bring us pleasure. Things others may see as mundane we see as treasure, and give thanks.

I think this is called the "abundant life!"

"I came that they may have and enjoy life, and have it in abundance (to the full till it overflows.)" John 10:10b

I give him first place bringing him glory. He allows me expanded time, the overflow to experience the talents he placed within me; my time is not wasted it is blessed.

"Thank you Lord for allowing me to see the colors of the world in a special way, and to enjoy the beauty and texture of the things in your nature. Thank you for prompting the hearts of man with the desire to mimic your art, and for the many creative urges you blessed us with. I don't understand why I should deserve even a drop of the grace you offer me physically or spiritually, and I only know they meld together so effortlessly because you are the ultimate life designer. Thank you for the drawing power of your Holy Scripture and the worlds and Godly beauty it has opened to me. You have so graciously planted in my heart the knowledge of your great salvation found in Jesus Christ; it is paramount in my life, all else flows from it, and because of it. Thank you for creating me as me, and whatever I do I offer to you."

I find that I can relax now and be at peace about my pursuits; I pick up my pliers, flex the muscles in my hand by stirring the colored bits of glass, stone, and metal with a searching finger. I retreat to the zone!"

~I encourage you to "seek and find" the special blessing God has put in your Life, offer it back to him then enjoy it to the fullest, be blessed!

Outline (the intro)

2013-05-24T08:44:00.001-05:00

I find, as I continue living this life, there are many facets of thought God placed inside me that I have yet to explore. My curiosity and inquisitiveness keep on growing.

As I began to live a slower pace, I realize my childhood imagination has surfaced again. It takes me to places I cannot physically go; it allows me to question as well as perceive in a rather interesting manner. I don’t pursue it, it pursues me.

I thank my heavenly Father for giving me the personality to never (except the summer after the 7^th, grade) be bored in my life. A little more boredom may have been good for me at the time.

I always longed for security; I don’t know why this was so important at such a young age other than God putting it in the heart of humans to desire it.

When I came of age, I accepted his gift of salvation and gave my little girl’s heart to Jesus; security was mine.

I know He made me; I know He loves me, and watches over me. Therefore I am in love with the scripture below; what a life foundation.

Psalms 139: 13-16: Oh yes, you shaped me first inside, then out; you formed me in my mother’s womb. I thank you, high God, you’re breathtaking! Body and soul I am marvelously made. I worship in adoration, what a creation! You know me inside and out, you know every bone in my body. You know exactly how I was made, bit by bit, how I was sculpted from nothing into something. Like an open book you watched me grow from conception to birth; all the stages of my life were spread out before you, the days of my life all prepared before I’d even lived one day. (MSG) The Message

What a sense of security this still gives me.

So having said all this; I know, that you know I am founded in faith and scripture, and I feel free to offer a bit of poetry that may have been preconceived so long ago (while drawing; I was always drawing) in my 7^th. grade mind on a long hot summer afternoon, that dragged on forever…

Outline (the poem)

If I was just an outline of a person drawn with indelible ink; I ponder; how would he, my God in his artistry, fill in the empty spaces?

Would he use his mighty hand to shape and mold my inner self? And would the breath of his Spirit blend me in ways to color my soul?

Will he tint my heart with iridescent love and let it flow through all my empty, but longing places?

“Fill me Lord!” I plea, for I am flat in form and without dimension; lying on a canvas, void of color or life I wait.

His pallet is covered by faith; I invite him to splash me so freely with grace. I await the touch of animation as he paints salvation in me.

I sense a stirring, a mixing of flesh and soul, a shading of emotion and logic, embedded while innate.

A background is stretched taut under my frame; there is no past to erase, I will live now and then, so divine.

I am not a sketch with shattered lines and uneven planes; I have been created by the Master’s loving hand.

By eternal fingers, quickened am I, made new, a masterpiece, a special design, brushed with his reflective glory…I shine.

I am all filled in; all filled up; I am complete. I live! But yet…

Galatians 1:20

The life you see me living is not mine, but it is lived by faith in the Son of God who loved me and gave himself for me.

(MSG) The Message

A VERY SHARP POINT!

2013-05-02T08:09:00.002-05:00

Life is constantly changing; it doesn’t ever let me catch my breath. I prefer consistency, slow shifts, and want everyone’s movements to revolve around my life and my expectations. I admit it I am selfish in my own particular way, and I want all of my friend’s decisions to depend on my acceptance and comfort. They seem to accept this, but go ahead and do what they had planned anyway!

Major changes happened in the last couple of years; two of my best friends have moved away from me. Not because they have disassociated themselves from me, but they actually moved to other areas of God’s beautiful world! They are encountering new and exciting adventures, and I am left with their empty spaces.

I was very much involved in the most recent move; I helped with packing and a two day marathon “Big” moving sale. She lived on a farm and had a big house plus many out-buildings which were all full. We re-arranged mega, multiple home, yard, barn, workshop, and shed items, to ensure a great sale. It did!

One of the perks of this loving labor of mine was to choose anything (I mean “anything”) she wasn’t taking to her new (far away) home, and let it become a part of my “left behind “life. I selected a few items, a painted pitcher, unusual stone jug, a crock, a book or two, and various other items. On the last day of preparation for the move I stumbled into, literally, a closet and there in all of its well-used glory was the prize! I couldn’t believe my eyes, a heavy green metal object screwed to the interior wall, my heart thumped wildly for joy. I had found treasure, along with childhood memories.

I always wanted one, even though I have had many that were hand held, a free-standing one sits on my desk as I write, but it has to be used carefully due to its propensity to tip over when used. There it was; a heavy duty, with a hand crank, a virtual grinding machine; one that makes that soothing “gurrring” sound as it chews the shank and sharpens the tips of yellow or black wood pencils. There is nothing in this world like a very sharp point!

Why was I having spasms’, and chills brought on by such a simple thing; a pencil sharpener? School! That is why, school. Sharpening my pencils was my release, my recreation, my way out of a boring assignment! I would sharpen all of my pencils several times a day, or as often as I could get away with it. I would sharpen anyone’s pencils, even the teachers.

I would “left side slide” out of my right arm desk top chair; take a slow measured steps (I am sure I did this ‘cause I am a "counter"…steps, lines on the wall, I count anything and everything ) toward the object of my “time-killer!

You need to understand; I was a free spirited child, my body was in the class, but the real “me” was riding my Dad’s orange bicycle, with my skirt hiked up and my socks dangerously close to getting caught in the chain. In my dreams my hair is flowing behind me, but it wasn’t, it was fairly short, thick, naturally curly and coarse, it never moved independently of my head; it was like a hat.

There I would stand, counting the turns, hoping the point would break and I could start all over again! I sometimes erased the black board (yes, black) but, too many other students were in line for that job, so mostly I sharpened! This caused me to develop a love for pencils that has lasted until today; I always choose one over a pen, unless ink is required.

I learned to love the eraser on the tip of my pencils, and due to so much time spent in the business of “sharpening”, I had to use them often, ah that’s the rub; oh! Sorry.

So there I was, in the closet, mourning the nearing departure of my friend, while desiring a screwdriver so I could remove the object of my obsession. I did the job and carefully carried it like a trophy to the backseat of my car and tucked it in a cup holder for a safe ride home.

“Why in the world?” you ask, didn’t I just buy one years ago? Well, I’m cheap (having owned the various fore mentioned ones), and forgetful and I must shop with reminders and it just never made the list, and besides, sometimes yearning is more satisfying than fulfillment; you know?

It is now ensconced in my pantry, directly over the trash can, “Oh! How could I have forgotten… emptying the pencil sharpener was another time-consuming project, almost as satisfying as turning the handle and it brought about a secondary type of avoidance of studying, a break to go to the restroom to wash my fingers.

Oh, I knew all of the tricks involving a pencil, and a “break” (oops, sorry again!) I must be feeling pun-ish today, but not the punish-ment I experienced because of my many trips to the front of the room, as I risk my life standing so near the teacher’s desk, eating up all of my pencils just so I could enjoy fleeting moments away from my prison, I mean desk!

Life happened, I moved on… and speaking of moving, my friend is gone, and I am re-adjusting myself again, and when the pity-party gets boring I just saunter, pencil in hand, to my pantry. Somehow a strange peaceful sense of escape comes over me, as I grab the handle. Suddenly I have the desire to ride a bicycle; I might ride it to visit my friend.

I could... you know!

The “V” Word

2013-03-21T17:44:00.000-05:00

I was entranced by my morning devotions as I came to a deeper understanding of a spiritual truth. The scripture, found in Mark 14, tells about a time in Bethany when Jesus was enjoying a meal with friends. Not just ordinary friends−Jesus had some very interesting friends−Simon his host was an ex-leper.

At some time during this gathering a woman came in and approached Jesus with a gift. By reading a parallel subject in John 12:1-3 it seems that Simon may have been (if my understanding is correct) the father of Martha, Mary and Lazarus, who were dear and close personal friends of Jesus, again not such ordinary people if we study the trauma experienced during their lives.

This woman who came in may have been Mary, the sister who loved while the other sister labored. You know the story told here, of her priceless gift, and her love for the Master. However the crux of the matter for me is not her gift, but His words, and they stunned me.

After scolding the scoffers, Jesus gave her a blessing, “She has done a beautiful thing for me." CEV "A good work for me.” NKJV this and the implication is what captured my attention. It was a concept brought to me by Oswald Chambers in his book “My Upmost for His Highest.” It was not entirely new to me in my subconscious perhaps, but in the awakened part of my mind I had, as far as memory goes, never dwelt on this particular aspect of God’s love.

My day caught up with me; I was envisioning the subject as I was led along in my busy life.

The rain fell in a heavy fashion, sluggishly. The splashes had edges. It was almost but not quite snow or ice, but close. I was hesitant to leave my warm home; my mind was still in the Bible, but the errands wouldn’t wait; I had to go. I tried to keep my mind on my “must dos, but pondering thoughts trailed after me.

Can I describe it using just words?

“God is love.” I, of course know that verse by heart. This is another of my all-time favorite verses “Real love isn’t our love for God, but his love for us.” It’s found in 1st. John 4:9-10, as well as “For God so loved the world…” John 3:16 I know and believe the basis for total truth is God’s word; I trust in these scriptures, I know he loves me. But, I most often just accept the surface level of love without delving into the layers and stratum of all it means from God’s perspective, if I even could.

So, I gleaned on an early spring morning (that still feels like deep winter) this: God values me. Dare I even think those words?

God Almighty, my heavenly Father values me. Whoa… this goes beyond love; this shoots through the universe and aims for heaven itself; it’s a different level, a knee bending, mind blowing thought to be treasured, explored, and to exult in.

My perception about the meaning of love is, I suppose rather simple; it does have several levels of meaning…I understand and experience family and friendship love; the “I would die for you!” love, and the deep feelings of loss when separated; the joy when surrounded by the same ones. I know the need to feel, touch and kiss. Hugs are physical connections to the heart between people who love each other.

I actually love, love. I want to be surrounded by it, always! This tells how I view love as it goes out from me, and maybe I speak for you, but how is my concept of God's (who “first” loved me) love even close to the reality of something so all-consuming and beyond human understanding and our emotions?

He values …me?

I have learned today when I do those things for God, being compelled only because I love him, as did Mary with the gift of the alabaster box; by offering him my “ordinary simple human” things give evidence of my total surrender. This is not to prove who I am, but because of who he is, and my relationship to him. I am his child; he values my love gift… me.

To value: have worth, merit, or importance. While you are on bended knees, try to think of this definition belonging to you in the heart of your heavenly Father.

I am aware of all (or most) of my faults and peculiar traits that may confuse or even disturb others at times even though they are familiar with my personality. So, I think those who love me have an “in spite of” love for me, and in my heart of hearts, I have always thought that was the way God loved me, “He made me this way, so he has to love me!” Yeah! That kind of love; it is an “in spite of” type.

Yet, he values …me? What comfort, what peace, what mystery occurs when I freely surrender “my all” to him!

The rain has lessened, but the low clouds roll on in a threatening manner; this gray morning in Kentucky, it is exciting to say the least! As I dove, my thoughts of being valued by the Lord in return for sweet gifts of devotion, gathered steam and my amazement continued to grow.

Due to my lack of ability to make a quick decision; I became minimally wet while I finished taking care of my business. Should I grab the umbrella from under the passenger seat (meaning I would have to bend, stretch and twist to reach it with bottom up) or pull on my hood which was caught inside my jacket collar? All the while I was standing between the car and the door, and the rain was falling and splashing in the puddle at my feet making ridiculing sneering sounds!

Finally! Warm and dry, back in my house in my reading chair with a good book; I should say “The” Good Book. Once again I am diving again into the love God has for me, it is written all over in indelible ink, and it is here to stay. I just can’t get enough. I want to live my life in open gratitude. I want to make large and overwhelming, as well as those “small gifts of surrender” to my lovely Lord. I desire to be of value to the God who is “love” himself!

I praise using ancient words spoken by one he loved to the ultimate, David “Your love means more than life to me, and I praise you. As long as I live I will pray to you. I will sing joyful praises and be filled with excitement like a guest at a banquet.” Psalms 63:3.

Loved, valued, warm and satisfied; filled in every way, not only do I experience the mountain top, but I think I am running, jumping and spinning through the valley!

Unless noted all scripture is from CEV.

The Winter of MY (a cautionary true life tale)

2013-02-21T10:13:00.003-06:00

Discontent, certainly that would name it, perhaps in a shallow way. A restless winter, for sure! Couch lust season? No, months of couch disgust! Never thought I would say it. My place of solace, comfort, stress reliever, so many good things it is. But the last two months it has proven to be a rust-red, dark green, western motif prison.

Following our Dr.’s advice of course, we took the flu shot in the fall for precaution as most seniors do now-a-days. All was well until the first week in January 2013 (I’ve mentioned this before, but to think I would be living in this year seemed like science fiction to me as a child). That is when my husband came down with the flu symptoms and all that indicates. I nursed him back to good health in about four or five days, ladies you understand what all this implies; men do sickness to perfection! It was a slight case of the flu but an epic traumatic time for him.

As he healed that week-end, I began to have some strange goings on myself. Constant running nose, cough, sore throat, struggled, but I bravely carried on until three days later the fever began; that is when my sofa, my close friend became even closer. This wasn’t a stay in bed occasion, because of the flu shot I’m sure, but a couch hugging one. It drug on; no one came in our house. It was just me my hubby, and Fox news.

Just as I was beginning to feel resentful I had a couple of good days. Two days without fever so I went out; carried on my business, and oh, surprise the whole thing came back, and it was “couch time” again. The details, ugh…! This went on for another week, fever, no fever, pure yuck, But I must say no racking body aches, due again to the fore mentioned shot (please, do take it)!

At the end of about two and a half weeks I felt well again, so off to the food pantry I went to do my duty, while there I began to have strange inklings that something was amiss! By the time I got home the second phase had started, and the virus that has followed this flu in so many cases had found me.

Down on the couch again, this took another week to run its course amid pity parties, crying jags, a little temper, and lots of running; my lower half rocked and later my top half rolled! On it went! I had every same symptom my husband had, his lasting a day or two at a time, whereas mine went on for eons! I saw the Dr. twice, along with phone calls and several prescriptions. During it all; my couch was faithful, ‘though it insidiously seemed to draw me there and hold me as its grip tightened!

Three weeks dragged to an end, and a few days into the fourth week all of my maladies turned me loose. I was free. Thank you Lord for answered prayer, I really never doubted you.

By now, it is February, a new month, a new outlook!

The second night after my recovery my husband went to get something in the dark house and forgot there were three steps (we have two steps in another place) so he missed the bottom, and down, he went hitting the wall, and door way knocking a china plate to its death! He was ok, just surprised his head wasn’t bleeding (trying to distract me from the plate) back to bed we went; all was well.

As I have mentioned several times before, “I know we have become one!” God meant it to be that way, so we have, almost literally. Three nights later, in the dark, I went down the same three steps thinking they were only two, and you guessed it! The next morning I was to have a biopsy on a spot previously found on my left leg, so I, with hubby’s help, hobbled to the Dr.’s office for that visit, and then hobbled into the clinic next door for an x-ray on the right foot; it was twisted, back to the couch for two more days. Arrrg…

The foot finally healed so I could safely walk on it without the walker, but to this day, it still hurts. Sometime I am gimpy and grumpy, but I am trying.

Had a few good days, family visited for two of them and life was getting normal. Celebrated my 76th birthday, felt no older than my mind says I am, but that shall remain a secret!

Then, came Monday of this week and back for outpatient surgery I go, yes it was a squamous-cell cancer, not to fret they seldom spread, and the Dr. said it looked clean underneath, more testing to make sure. I don’t get concerned over such things; I just worry “with” them from the reclining position on my couch, of course. Now this leg is up again for two or so more days!

And here I am propped up in my bed, haven’t made it to the couch yet, spilling my guts to a captive audience, or maybe not! The original dressing gets to come off after a while, and my husband will clean and re-bandage it for me; I will milk it for all it’s worth (just being truthful) and be waited on hands and foot until I get tired of it, and then back to my sofa I will go. Our relationship shall continue, “prison, a prisoner” for a day or two more, then, one way or another, I’m breaking out!

In all of this, I thank God for my patient forbearing husband, the helper that he is, and that he still loves me through it all, and thanks to our daughter our encourager and cheerleader who returned after the contagion settled. I thank God for the ending of THIS winter, which will soon be drawing near, although there is an ice storm due tonight. I should not forget Kroger in my thanksgiving; the roasted chicken, and all of their other pre-made goodies!

Looking forward to the day my sofa will once again be my friend, and I will be free to sit or stand elsewhere if I choose!

So, what would you call my winter? Oh well…I shall be of good cheer!

Spring is coming! God is good!

Yesterday. Today. Tomorrow?

2013-02-04T07:30:00.000-06:00

In recent years, I have been aware of the illness that steals away many of the loved ones of my friends and family in an insidious way. Slipping into their midst at first unnoticed, it creates a new heart-rending reality for all those it touches. I have wondered how they, the affected one, come to the realization of this disease and how strong can they fight against it in the early stages. How do they try to push away this creeping horror?

This may be one of those places angels “fear to tread” I ask; could the heart-rending knowledge be something...

~~~~~

I furtively flipped the light switch casting the side porch into sudden darkness. Quietly, I turned the door handle and slipped noiselessly over the threshold and was instantly enveloped by the thick, dark and fragrant midnight.

“Tonight is the night for memories.” I told myself as I tossed an ancient quilt on the thick growth of vinca vines, and in the process crushed many blue headed blossoms. The fire flies, new to the early summer, were in competition with the distant stars; blinking and winking at me, luring me to turn my dream time over to them.

It was the softness of the night and my bed of earth that lulled me and drew to the place where my reveries became remembrances of flesh once touched, and tears and kisses felt fresh on my face. So, I gave over to the madness of a dark moon, and gentle night breezes, as they stirred the leaves of the giant maple tree that stands as a guardian over my yard and me. Settled and comfortable now, it was time to visit old places once new.

I closed my eyes and went away for a while, to distant places, and other eras, times filled with passion, love, and grace, when I was young, where I was young. The golden haired “one for me” was there too. The one whose mouth curved rather than pointed at the corners; whose eyes, so blue, read me, and knew me, and touched me tenderly with an unspoken call, and I answered.

In the poignancy of the moment, in the stillness of the night, the hunger and thirst for days gone by became a palatable thing. The dew arrived and did its magical thing; quenching the thirst of my yard it also renewed and caressed my spirits and kissed my face and drew me back to this night, this time, and thoughts of tomorrow. I am here. I passed the test once more.

A faint light, glowing on my porch, and I heard a soft voice speak my name; the voice that has warmed me through the years, “It is time, please come back now.” I struggled to my feet, folded my Grandmother’s quilt and slowly walked through the blackness toward my reality. He well knew of my trips to yesterday, and he thinks I’ll always come back, and I will; I deeply desire to; for as long as I can.

His hand held my arm and guided me through the darkened house; I remembered the way, but it was so nice having a guide. I knelt at my bedside and said my prayers. Sleep waited to weave its calming way to my body and thoughts, as my life-long custom takes over, and my lips began their nightly whisper “God, my shepherd; I don’t need a thing. You have bedded me down in lush meadows; you find me quiet pools to drink from. True to your word, you let me catch my breath and send me in the right direction. Even when the way goes through Death Valley, I’m not afraid when you walk at my side. Your trusty shepherd’s crook makes me feel secure. You serve me a six-course dinner right in front of my enemies. You revive my drooping head; my cup brims with blessing. Your beauty and love chase after me every day of my life. I’m back home in the house of God for the rest of my life.”

With arms entwined we go to bed. It has always, always been this way. I kissed his beautiful mouth, and began slipping away again, not to yesterday, or tomorrow,but to a place of contented sleep where rest reigns and I am secure in the knowledge as love waits, it also will go on forever.

~~~~~~

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Scripture quoted Psalm 23 (The Message)

Reflections (in a bird-bath)

2013-01-09T11:15:00.002-06:00

2013 Day one:

As I stepped onto the sodden mulch while checking out the seed in my bird station, I happened to glance at the “full to the brim” bird bath. The feisty north wind had sucked itself back into the leadened sky for a while, so the dark pool of water was calm and still. The stepping stone for my feathered drinking friends was empty, not even one ripple appeared on the reflection-less surface.

My attention was captured, for the moment, and I peered into the depths (2 inches, perhaps) noticing how the dead leathery leaves were brought back to subtleness by the drenching. On the bottom lay scattered tiny rocks, and rotting bird-seed. A water-soaked tendril of ivy draped across the bowl in a graceless fashion, shinny-green in the drab winter’s day, the first day of the New Year. “Hang on ~ here we go again!” I thought.

As I stood staring at the lifeless pool time seemed to undulate around me, and I began to relive the past twelve months: there I was in those highlighted moments, the ones I long always to remember ~ involving family, closeness, love; and the others that I choose now to forget ~ involving family, closeness, and love.

The good times ~ so lifting, so compelling, so special, they led me to give thanks for the abundant blessings graced on me by my Heavenly Father. Those heart glowing, love growing, feelings of God inspired, well-being. Ah, they are the times to savor. I stirred the water with my finger releasing tiny bubbles each filled with longing for those times to be re-lived, as they burst in the air, I thought of the blessings to come, and that satisfied and filled me.

The bad times ~ the frightful experience of having my emotions scrubbed as though with a rusted Brillo pad. The times of total dependence on God’s mercy and strength for my next breath as fear gripped and my will fought for victory. Untidy remembrances surface sluggishly, as though from the bottom of the bird bath bowl.

Fading now are memories of the wound in my heart; it needed stitching by holy thread, woven by fingers of grace. Now these thoughts have turned to blessings as God washed me clean of them as even now He is releasing their hold over me.

I vigorously disturbed the water and waited for the calmness to return, and it did; still, there was no reflection of blue sky, of swooping birds, no gentle ripples against the rock, only a smooth span of motionless water. The longer I looked, the flatter the bird-bath scene seemed to become, losing its three-dimensional effect. It lost its hold on me; I was ready to venture on. I thought of Isaiah 34 and verses18 and 19: “Forget what happened long ago! I am creating something new. There it is! Do you see it? I have put roads in the desert, streams in the thirsty land.”

I shifted the basket in my arms, trod through the wet chips and filled all the feeders in my backyard. My thoughts were calm like a placid pool; I greeted 2013 serenely. In this new year, I have nothing yet to reflect, nothing to cause disturbances; no ripples have formed in my life. I know I will reflect; I will absorb, but on this day, I am new, I flow liquid like the water, and I am filled with expectation, with endurance, and most of all with God’s promises. Blue skies, gray days, it matters not for I am held securely in the bowl of my Father’s hands today, always.

Proverbs 3:5-6 “With all of your heart you must trust the Lord and not your own judgment. Always let him lead you and he will clear the road for you to follow.”
All scripture quoted from the “New Contemporary Version”

Beautiful, Isn't He

2012-12-21T14:37:00.001-06:00

“Isn’t He beautiful, beautiful, Isn’t He? Prince of peace, Son of God, isn’t He…” so the praise hymn goes, and so goes my heart and spirit caught in thrall with my Lord and Savior, Jesus the Christ.

And yet, I find in the Bible, as Isaiah prophesies about Jesus, in chapter 53 in verse 2b (NIV): “He had no beauty or majesty to attract us to Him, nothing in His appearance that we should desire Him.”

I find I am I arguing with Isaiah, “Not my Lord! He is the lily of the valley, my bright and morning star!” There is no moment in which I find him uncomely, unlovely.

I understand that Isaiah was prophesying how the world of Jesus’s day would perceive Him, because they were expecting pomp and royalty, an earthly kingly messiah, nothing in His personal appearance could live up to their expectations. His lowly position at birth, and His ordinary looks would not be pleasing to the Jews; they expected the glory of a powerful king in stature, and majesty as he ruled over his earth kingdom.

In time, He came as a shoot of a plant, He grew humbly, silently, and inertly, and yet fulfilling ancient promises, “Out of the stump of David’s family will grow a shoot ~ yes, a new branch bearing fruit from the old root” (Isaiah 11:1 New Living Translation).

“Isn’t He Wonderful? Wonderful, isn’t he? Counselor, Almighty God, isn’t He? Isn’t He, isn’t He, isn’t He?” The words and melody weave their way through my heart, as though they were curling Christmas ribbons on their way to wrap my soul in praise.

The more I read Isaiah the more I appreciate my Lord’s coming ~ the way He came and the cause for which He came to earth. He came in innocence as a baby; He grew into a humble, strong, and sin-forgiving savior. He is the miracle worker, the lover of my soul, and indweller who binds me to Himself eternally. Jesus is the beautiful one whom I adore; whose presence entraps me on the edge of His glory.

I see the beauty of Him through the eyes of my faith. His beauty is more than face or form; it is He, the Son, sharing the mighty light of brilliant colors of God’s majestic glory; it is He at the right side of the Father, interceding eternally for me; isn’t He beautiful, isn’t He?

He is grace; He is mercy, and He is mine, “Yes you are beautiful; beautiful, yes you are! Prince of peace, son of God yes, you are!”

Should you desire to know this One, this savior, this “very” son of God, you can find Him in the scriptures, in the gospels. Let Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John introduce you, as the whole Bible speaks His glory and shines light on your path as you travel through life with Him. He will be your need’s supplier, your heart’s comfort; He will take you to the throne of heaven and stand as the gate, and you will enter through Him; beautiful, isn’t He?

Isn’t He
(John Wimber)

Isn’t He (isn’t He)
Beautiful (beautiful)?
Beautiful (beautiful)
Isn’t He (isn’t He)?
Prince of peace
Son of God, isn’t He?

Isn’t He (isn’t He)
Wonderful (wonderful) ?
Wonderful (wonderful)
Isn’t He (isn’t He) ?
Counselor,
Almighty God, isn’t He?
Isn‘t He? Isn‘t He?

Yes You are (yes You are)
Beautiful (beautiful)!
Beautiful (beautiful)
Yes You are (yes You are)!
Prince of peace
Son of God, yes You are!

Yes You are (yes You are)
Wonderful (wonderful) !
Wonderful (wonderful)
Yes You are (yes You are)!
Counselor,
Almighty God, yes You are!

A Story within a Story or a Nested Story (part 2): My Dilemma, Anne’s Road

2012-12-17T15:05:00.001-06:00

Part one of this story can be found on my home page it is the third story as you scroll down, you may want to read it first!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As most of us have experienced occasionally, after having read an interesting book or story, we stumble upon a “follow up” and it is more like an afterthought ~ a slight taste, but not as pungent as the first one. There are risks in writing a part two, a continuation, or a sequel. I wanted to ignore the request of some readers to render more of Anne, but she, herself, wouldn’t leave me alone. I felt impressed to fill in the blanks of her life. Thus my dilemma, measuring the second against the first story; so, shall I go for it? Shall I test the waters and see where the ~ wisps of her “almost” real ~ spirit leads?
I think… I will.
~~~
There are times I do wonder about God’s sense of propriety. He knows I love the winter scene He paints so vividly, and how it lures me outside; how my thinning bones ache when I get up close and personal to it. I promised Him earlier this year I would do those things He leads me to do without complaining and making senseless excuses; I would bite the bullet and pray about my attitude. I just needed clear direction to stay on the right path to discover, and perform, large or small sacrifices of His choosing. So, putting into action a God~induced plan, I journeyed out on a cold winter’s day to see Anne.

The ice was thick in each tiny square of the window pane; it glistened, twinkled, and winked at me. A slanted, weak sunbeam proved its strength and the shards of ice it touched gleamed like crystal bling. I slipped into the hushed room. Anne was propped high on piles of thick foam rubber; her head barley dimpled the crisp lavender (her favorite color, remember) pillow slip, her beautiful snowy hair, now freed from the tight low bun, cuddled her face like a wayward cloud finding a final rest. In her eighty sixth year, she slept like a baby.

She was dreaming; I could see the quick eye movements from beneath her thin fragile lids. I heard the word, “Lily!” Ah, now I knew the dream. I sat and waited. Memories of our first meeting flooded back…

We met during the autumn; I learned her early life’s story. We enjoyed each other very much. We walked; we talked; and we connected. I gave her my phone number. After a call from Andrew, her private nurse, and his mentioning her dementia, I began to visit at his request.

Now it was late February. I dressed warmly on this, my fifth visit; as I said, I hate to be cold. I had to discipline myself to go out on this frigid day. As I left my warm cozy home and entered my shuttering metal mode of transportation, I made the determination “I will offer this visit today as one of my small sacrifices that cost me something.” That slightly skewed version of a bible verse warmed me up a little by thinking I may be doing something right, and maybe my “self-righteous” attitude will go unnoticed.

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Jake and the Line (a story)

2012-12-12T08:28:00.001-06:00

I headed for the nearest mall door to get out of the icy night. What a time to be out! I was going after something I had seen here last week, you know, a last minute gift, and you also know as well as I do it is most likely already gone.

In my rush, I brushed too near a little boy, and sent him tumbling to the floor. He bounced a couple of times then quickly checked the contents of the bag he was carrying; all appeared to be ok. He gave me a ten-year-old (I'm guessing) smile as I gushed my apologies,and his mother and I helped him up.

We chatted a bit, and walked along together. He was a thin boy but seemed very mature for his age. "I've just seen Santa!" he said, "He gave me this bag of candy canes." He pulled one out, opened it and inserted it into his mouth. His Mom reminded him to eat only one; they were on a mission to find someone here in the mall to share the rest of the candy with. He gave me a look; "I know about, well... you know, but I still like the idea of Santa, and I love Christmas!"

I hugged his shoulders and said, "So do I Jake, so do I." We walked on together, my hustle and bustle had slowed.

"I am going to be baptized on Christmas day at my church; I have been saved and now Jesus lives in my heart." Then in a small boy's way of witnessing he asked me questions and finally seemed satisfied that just like him, I also was a believer and a Jesus lover.

Near another exit door, set in a wall of windows, we saw a woman on a bench facing the outside; she had two young children with her. They appeared to be waiting for the city bus; the stop was just on the other side of the window wall.

"What do you think?" asked Jake's Mom.

Jake proceeded to the family and ask the woman if he could talk about Christmas to her children and share his candy canes with them while they waited for the bus. Assuming her smile meant yes, Jake took his stand. His Mom whispered, "Jake is an unabashed thespian and a natural- born singer." I could hear the pride in her voice.

He began the Christmas story with Bethlehem, the shepherds, the star and the baby Jesus in a manger. He told it in such a beautifully simple way, it was compelling and touching spoken in his melodic tones. I think I heard the angels sing. I noticed a crowd had gathered all around us. Now Jake was singing; tears flooded my eyes as he sang of a holy night. This young boy, with perfect pitch and joy in his voice was melting emotions (hardened from hectic shopping) all around me as we stood shoulder to shoulder in the middle of the mall, while Jake tendered our hearts and made us ready for Christmas.

In this hushed crowd as we praised, prayed, and rejoiced, Our Lord was being reflected through Jake, for Jesus indwells his children and lives in their praise. We were a line of people, and we were seeing Jesus through the eyes of our hearts.