Your Character is Showing

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Just like everyone else, I've been watching the actions of people during this pandemic. Needless to say, it's been astonishing.

I've always heard that whatever you do in secret, when no one can see, is your character.  It's either selfish or giving, vindictive or kind, good or evil.

This crisis has brought out the character of a lot of people, it's out there for everyone to see.  I am so disappointed in seeing the character of some, who hoard products just to resell and make money from this catastrophe.  It's shocking to see scammers try to take advantage of  the poor or the elderly.  Their character has gone public.

However, on the other hand, I'm amazed at the goodness of others.  I've seen healthcare workers who continue to put their own lives at risk in order to help someone else.  I've heard stories of restaurants giving out free food to their communities.  The precious people who work in the school systems are going in and making lunches for the children even though the schools are closed.  People are offering home cooked meals for truck drivers, people who are delivering groceries and necessities to the homes of the elderly, people using their own money to make masks for healthcare workers,  and just this morning a sweet lady offered to help my husband and I in any way she could.

I know the evil deeds have been magnified through tv and social media, but there are others that have sacrificed their time, their belongings and even their lives from the kindness of their hearts.

Let's focus on the goodness of people today.  Let's pray that God changes the hearts of others.

And remember,  your character is showing..

What Am I Thankful For?

What am I thankful for?  The list could be limitless, but this year I'm thankful to be here.  Things could have been very different for me and for my family this year because I was diagnosed with invasive breast cancer.

When I heard those words echoing around the silent room of the doctor's office, I could not register what I was hearing.  As my husband and my son, faces drained of color,  sat beside me while the doctor explained it all on a medical level, all I could think was, "I want my grandchildren to remember me. God, if I die now, some of them won't remember."

It's been months of struggles, pain, helplessness, surgeries, and yet, here I am.  To have my friends and family pitch in to help dress me, change my bandages, empty drain tubes, cook and clean for me has been the most humbling experience of my life, but it helped open my eyes and ponder on how that Jesus suffered so much, endured so much, surely, I could get through this.

My surgeries, with all their complications, are finally over.  My pain is easing.  My body will always be disfigured, but it will always be a reminder, I am here, I am cancer free, my grandchildren will grow and  they will remember me.

Stop for Just a Minute

I'm on my porch this morning, sitting on my chaise lounge chair, a cold tea on the table beside me and all I hear are the different bird sounds echoing in my woods.  What a conversation they are having.  The sky is blue with soft, billowy clouds moving slowly across the sky and I can smell the sweet fragrance of the pink, fluffy flowers on my mimosa tree while the leaves dance slowly in the breeze.  Maybe it's true what they say...."almost heaven, West Virginia."

It's a good thing to stop everything.  Stop working, stop talking, stop moving, just sit for a minute and look around.  We need to realize that this is a way to praise God for his blessings.  Do we really think God did all this, made all this, just because he didn't have anything else to do?  He did this for us, for our pleasure.

How dare we stomp out to the car every morning on our way to work and not even notice the different colors of green in the trees.  It's shameful of us to be so busy cleaning, running, working to not notice that God Almighty, the Creator of the universe, the Giver of all good things put that flower there for us.  He made the grass green and soft to walk on, He made the hard, resilient trunks of trees to hold up those branches of shade for us, He made the sweet, juicy apples, peaches, oranges to give us nourishment and pleasure to our taste buds, and gave the plants and flowers aroma for us to enjoy.
 
When we go through our days ignoring the beauty that surround us, the magnificance that God has created, we are ignoring the blessings of the Creator.  How ashamed I am for snubbing my Father, for grumbling when the grass needs mowed, for grumbling when we have to prune our trees, for making snide remarks when it's too cold, too hot, too wet or too dry.  We always look down our noses at the children of Israel and are so amazed at them for grumbling about every. little. thing., while we complain about every. little. thing.

Jesus, forgive us all for being complaining, unthankful, ungrateful people, and help us to stop.  Help us to stop everything for just a moment, look around, and find the beauty surrounding us every single day.

I'm guessing all that melodius sound coming from my woods, all that chirping, singing, and twittering could be praises, songs of thanks for all the things we overlook in nature.

Psalms 148
Praise ye the LORD.  Praise ye the LORD from the heavens: praise him in the heights. 2. Praise ye him, all his angels: praise ye him, all his hosts.  3.  Praise ye him, sun and moon: praise him, all ye stars of light.  4.  Praise him, ye heavens of heavens, and ye waters that be above the heavens.  5.  Let them praise the name of the LORD: for he commanded, and they were created.  6. He hath also stablished them for ever and ever: he hath made a decree which shall not pass.  7.  Praise the LORD from the earth, ye dragons, and all deeps:  8. Fire, and hail; snow, and vapours; stormy wind fulfilling his word: 9.  Mountains, and all hills; fruitful trees, and all cedars: 10.  Beasts, and all cattle; creeping things, and flying fowl: 11.  Kings of the earth, and all people; princes, and all judges of the earth: 12.  Both young men, and maidens; old men, and children:  13.  Let them praise the name of the LORD: for his name alone is excellent; his glory is above the earth and heaven.  14.  He also exalteth the horn of his people, the praise of all his saints; even of the children of Israel, a people near unto him.  Praise ye the LORD.

Was it Worth It?

I'm sitting here in a quiet house with my feet propped up and soft music playing in the background, thinking about the days of being a young mother.  Back then, I certainly could not have had the opportunity to do this. There would have been a baby in my arms, or a baby that just left my arms, or a baby crying to be in my arms.  The music in the background would have been Old MacDonald and my feet would have been crossed with another child riding horsey on my leg.

Moms sacrifice from the very beginning, don't we?

We sacrifice our health...each morning we get up with a feeling of dread because we know within the next few minutes we'll be doubled over as our bodies try to reject that little foreign object, violently.

We sacrifice our bodies...our bodies transform from looking like the number 8 to looking like the letter D.  We have to learn a new way to balance ourselves, a new way to sit, and a new way to get up, if we can get up.

We sacrifice our appetites...if it's not nailed down, we eat it, with a pickle.

We sacrifice our sanity...who knew that a butterfly landing on a flower could make us cry. And that by the last few weeks just about anything "he" says makes us feel as if someone is wailing away on our nerves with sandpaper.  Who knew.  And all this before the little package even arrives.

But haven't we all seen a smile appear when we ask a mother, "was it worth it?"  Was it worth all those weeks of sickness?  Smile, yes.  Was it worth all the mood swings?  Smile, yes.  Was it worth all that pain?  Smile, yes.

We've all recieved messy dandelion and buttercup bouquets picked by little, chubby hands.  Some of us were given rocks.  Whatever the gift, it was thought of as beautiful in the mind of that tiny person, and is as valuable to us as jewels.  The expression of joy on that small replica of ourselves was worth it.

Most of us could wallpaper our houses with all the yellow, crayon sunshines and smiling cloud pictures.  We could throw in some love notes with the letters all different sizes, some letters backwards, where the m's have too many humps and the E's have too many sticks.  Add to that a few papers with glued on cotton balls and macroni, a sprinkling of glitter, and some unknown particles thrown into the mix and we have completed the whole house in art.

All of us have dealt with their broken hearts, drama, sports, hairdos, proms, cars and report cards.  Our hearts rip into when they stand with a silly grin on their faces as they are dressed in school color cap and gowns, holding up their diplomas, and we grieve as in death when they walk away from us to enter a whole new life.

We look around and think, "wait a minute!  I'm not done!" And they're gone.  Somehow we've stumbled through illnesses, crazy schedules, work, heartaches, hurdles and wonder how many times we did the wrong thing, how many opportunities gone, and how many ways did we mess up. But then we look up, see that adult face that will always be the face of our baby, and think "I did pretty good."

Yea, this thing called Motherhood is pretty awesome.  It can make the weak or faint hearted become an unrelenting beast for the protection of our little cubs.  It can make the selfish and self centered realize there is someone more important than ourselves.  It can make a Christian become a warrior of prayer for the soul of our babes.

So, as I continue to sit with my feet propped up, I smile and think, "Yes.  It was worth it."

Psalms 127:3  Lo, children are an heritage of the LORD: and the fruit of the womb is his reward.

Proverbs 31:25-30  Strength and honour are her clothing; and she shall rejoice in time to come.  She openeth her mouth with wisdom; and in her tongue is the law of kindness.  She looketh well to the ways of her household, and eateth not the bread of idleness.  Her children arise up, and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praiseth her.  Many daughters have done virtuously, but thou excellest them all.  Favour is deceitful, and beauty is vain: but a woman that feareth the LORD, she shall be praised.

Thanksgiving Blessings

As I sit here this morning, sipping my coffee, gazing out the window at the frosted trees and grass, I'm thinking of my day ahead.

I will hurry through my morning getting dressed, fixing my hair, and adding a little bling to my outfit.  I'll finish putting all the food in crockpots, stuff the turkey and prepare it to be the centerpiece of the table, I'll put a pretty tablecloth on the table that will be dotted with food later, and I'll drag extra chairs out because my little family has outgrown my table.

As I'm finishing up, I'll hear the door open and my family come in with the cold still lingering on their clothes.  Things like "where's the food!" and "man, it smells good in here" will be shouted, little girls will be giggling and screaming "MIMI!" "POPPY!", as they run through the house, and the baby will be passed around collecting kisses on those chubby cheeks. 

As I go through my day, I'm going to look extra hard for all the blessings I can find that Jesus has  placed for me before my day even began, store them up in my memory, and tonight while I sit down, totally exhausted, I'm going to go through each one and give thanks to the One who is the giver of all things good.

Happy Thanksgiving from my precious family.

As I was reading this morning, I came across the verse in the bible that says "the last shall be first, and the first last."

I always get a mental picture of little kids in elementary school lining up in the hallway and there's lots of pushing and maneuvering to get that "first" spot. Children waving hands in the air proclaiming, " I want to be first!" "Let me! Let me!"

This verse has always caused a question mark to pop in my head. I've heard many explanations, I've listened to opinions, and I sort of got it, but that pesky little question mark was still around.

Then, as I was reading through my prayer diary, I was going down the list of people in my Sunday School class, and there in black and white was a name that answered my questions. I'll call him Joe. Joe is a young man that is faithful to church and faithful to bring a smile to someone's face each Sunday.

However, there's something a little different about Joe. He's mentally handicapped.

Every Sunday Joe has something, or rather a very long list of somethings that he wants us to pray about with him. We've prayed for his birthday, which he reminds us of every Sunday, we've prayed for his teeth because he has a dental appointment in 6 months, we've prayed for every member of his family, we've prayed for bible school, the state fair, and Dollywood.

We've heard Joe give testimony to the fact that he's good, he loves Jesus, Jesus is his friend, and that he doesn't rob banks.

Joe definitely isn't a "first" in society.  Joe wasn't the first in his class, he wasn't the first in academics,
he wasn't the first in athletics, he's really not a first in anything in our eyes, but I believe he is a first
in someone's eyes, and that someone is Christ.

It doesn't matter to Jesus what goes on in Joe's head, it matters what goes on in his heart.


So, when we're in heaven and time is no more, I want to look Joe up. I figure he's going to be at the first of the line.

Matthew 20:1-16

Flowers and Butterflies

Happy Mother's Day to all you ladies who have been blessed to become mothers!

Whew!  To get that tiny human from the protection of our bodies into our arms is a grueling experience, to say the least.  There is no pain comparable.  Yea, yea, yea, we've all heard the stories from men about the pain of passing a kidney stone and how horrible it is.  Have you seen the size of a kidney stone?  Have you seen the size of a baby?  End of argument.

That excruciating, crushing, near death pain is forgotten in an instant, though.  The second that child is placed in our arms, we go from screaming to cooing, from agony to kisses and from a death grip on our husband's throat to gently stroking the sweet form in our arms.

Ahhhh, motherhood.  It's all flowers and butterflies from here on out....right?  Well, it depends from which perspective you are looking.  When you're living in the moment, surviving on two hours sleep each night, staggering and running into walls from exhaustion, you may not see the butterflies, more likely you're seeing stars, but when your kids are grown and you sit in a quiet house reminiscing about your babies, you don't really focus on the sleepless nights, the tummy aches, and the incessant crying.  You focus on the flowers and butterflies.  You remember the soft touch as their tiny fingers wrap around yours.  You remember the fluffy, downy head and the chubby cheeks and those huge eyes that take in everything around them.

I think back to the days of three little boys and one teenage girl.  Have mercy.  How did I do that?  At the time I was just trying to get through the days with enough clean clothes for everyone, the laundry was never ending and I'm pretty sure it reproduced when I wasn't looking, but as I'm older now, I can see the flowers and butterflies when my teenage daughter was constantly lending a helping hand getting the laundry done.

At the time, I wondered how I was going to get my daughter to volleyball practice, my youngest to the elementary ball game, my middle son to the junior high game and my oldest son to the varsity game, plus get dinner and not forget to put my shoes on as I went out the door.  But now I see the flowers and butterflies as I think about the anticipation of playing the games, the fun we had in our large van with everyone singing along to the radio, the long talks we had on the way home and constant barrage of fast food.

The energy and planning it took to have an "all nighter" at the Workman ponderosa with about fifteen to twenty rambunctious boys was overwhelming...the cooking (I'm talking pots large enough to fit a small pony into....have you ever fed one teenage boy, much less a tribe?)    The furniture was pushed back against the walls, there was food scattered all through the house, mud on the floors, occasional blood, video game tournaments which included lots of yelling and my husband and I in bed with pillows over our heads.  But now I see flowers and butterflies when I run into those young boys who are now grown men and they hug me and start talking about the fun times at my house, when I get a call or a text from one
of "my boys" asking me to fix some chili like I used to or wanting the recipe for it.  When my son runs into one of "my boys" and my son says that this boy said to tell me that he loves me.  That is definitely some flowers and butterflies.

I just want to encourage new mothers, young mothers, tired mothers that it is worth it.  Every exhausting minute is a life time of memories.  Every second is time that you make an impression on a little mind that will someday be making grown up decisions.  Every glass of spilled milk or every trail of muddy footprints is an opportunity to teach love and patience.  Even when you're so tired that the bedtime story puts you to sleep, it's a precious memory.

It's all over so quickly it seems like you just imagined it all.  When you're older, sitting in a quiet house pondering on what used to be and your thoughts are interrupted by a grown man stomping in the door with kids in tow, and yells, "MOM!".......it's flowers and butterflies.

Proverbs 31:25  Strength and honor are her clothing; and she shall rejoice in time to come.




                                                          My flowers and butterflies.

                                         

                                           

Why Was the Stone Rolled Away?

Let's face it, the work for the Lord isn't always fun.  Be honest.  Sometimes it's boring, sometimes it's monotonous, sometimes it's difficult, and sometimes it's not appreciated.

Look at Paul, he was thrown into prison how many times?  Noah was laughed out of town.  Jonah was on the wrong side of a fishing story. And Thomas looked into the eyes of the Saviour and still had some doubts.

How many know the name of Adoniram Judson?  It's not a name that's on our tongues very often, or probably not at all.  Adoniram Judson was a missionary to Burma in the late 1700's to mid 1800's.  He went there to do the work of the Lord, to convert souls, to lead them to a Saviour, to show them eternal life.  I'm sure he went into the work with the same mindset that most of us do, "this will be great!"  However, it took Judson four years to just learn the language.  It took him twelve years to see his first convert, he was imprisoned, his wife passed away along with one of his children.  I'm sure many times he wondered if it was worth it, but, by the time he died, he had translated the scripture into Burmese, established 100 churches and seen over 8,000 souls saved.

Now, let's travel back a couple of thousand years.  Jesus, who made the cripple walk was now falling and staggering up the hill to Golgotha.  Jesus, who said, "Come unto me all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest" was now carrying the burden of the wooden beams of his death bed and the sin of the whole world on his back.  The men and women who were given new life just saw their Hope give up his.

We can only imagine the upheaval of emotions surrounding this day, but a few days later, when the chaos had turned to shock, when the crowds had dissipated and real life began to set in, there was work to do.  It was time to go to the grave to prepare the body, to anoint the body with spices.  Not many volunteered for this job, it wasn't a pleasant thing to do, but someone had to do it.  You didn't see Peter, the one who jumped out of the boat to walk on water, volunteering.  Thomas, who still wasn't sure who the Son of Man was,  now couldn't believe it was all over.  James, his brother didn't jump up, nor did John, Jesus' most beloved friend.  I don't know, maybe it was one of those "it's a woman's job" things, but the fact was, it was an unpleasant task that had to be done, so Mary and Mary Magdalene gathered the necessary items and headed down the road toward the place where Jesus' body lay.

Jesus' body was put in the tomb that had been purchased by Joseph of Arimathea.  The burial places were usually hewn into stone and the entrance was covered by a large circular stone door that was placed in a groove that had been chipped out of the stone in front of the opening.  This circular stone could then be moved away from the opening along this groove when needed and was usually held in place by smaller stones.
 
Now, we've all heard this story hundreds of times, and though no one really ever said it, it was kind of assumed the stone was rolled back so that Jesus could get out of the tomb.  It's funny how things like this just enter one ear and fly out the other one without connecting to the brain in between.  When we stop...think....and ponder, we absolutely know that Jesus didn't need that stone moved, because, you see,  when the women arrived at the tomb, the angel rolled the stone away and Jesus was already gone.  So, what was the point?

The women were on their way to do a job and you know their hearts were just not in it.  They were dreading what lay ahead, they were doing something that no one else would do.  They probably wished they could be anywhere doing anything else than what they had volunteered to do, but there they were, walking down a dirty road, scuffing up dust clouds with their feet, mostly walking in silence and hushed tones, until they came upon the unexpected, the unexplained, the undeserved.  The stone was rolled back so they could see.

Just like in everything that was done from the first cry of that tiny baby in the animals' stall, till the last cry of "It is finished!" it was all done for you, for me, for the disciples, for Mary and Mary Magdalene, and for the generations until the end of time.  Every single word, every single action was for you.  Even the very thoughts of God Almighty are for you.  Psalms 139:17 says, "How precious also are thy thoughts unto me, O God! how great is the sum of them!"

So many times we walk along scuffing our feet, going about the humdrum tasks that we think no one notices.  But there's always One that notices.  There's One that is keeping a record.  There's One that smiles down on us with unexpected, unexplained, undeserved blessings.

PSALMS 139
 O lord, thou hast searched me, and known me.  2 Thou knowest my downsitting and mine uprising, thou understandest my thought afar off.
3 Thou compassest my path and my lying down, and art acquainted with all my ways.  17 How precious also are thy thoughts unto me, O God! how great is the sum of them!" 18 if I should count them, they are more in number than the sand:

Happy Thanksgiving

As I sit here this Thanksgiving morning, with the Christmas tree sparkling in the corner, I'm thinking of all Thanksgivings from my childhood, as a newly wed, as a mother and now as a grandmother.  What precious memories of cousins running through Grandma's and Papa's house, sitting down to dinner with my in laws, feeding my babies mashed potatoes with a little taste of gravy mixed in and watching as they experience real food, and now I'm thinking about my grandkids bursting through my door and screaming "MIMI!"

I was talking to my son one day about how much fun it was as a kid to go to my papa's house and all my cousins would be there.  I don't remember what the adults did, but I know that the cousins had a blast running through the yard to the woods and then through the fields, usually ending up in the loft of Papa's barn where our imagination took us to far away places.  I was telling him how sad that that part of my life was over.  As we were standing at the window looking out at our yard, fields and woods and what he said to me next made me put a whole new perspective on the memories of times past.  He said, "Mom, now THIS is Papa's place." 

He made me realize that although there was some sadness in memories of times past, I was passing on to my children and grandchildren the fun times, times of sitting around the table laughing, kids running through the house, the yard and lots of love being passed around. 

So, this morning, I'm going to think on all those Thanksgivings past, but not with sadness and heartache, but with a new direction of making Mimi's house the fun place to go.  The place where memories are made.  The place, when I'm gone, that they tell their children and grandchildren of all the happiness made at Mimi's and Poppy's house.

Mister Little Mouse

It's a strange day today.  All I wanted to do is go in my kitchen, as I do every morning, get a cup of coffee and a piece of toast.  Is this too much to ask? It's a simple request.

So I go over and put some bread in the toaster, walk around to the dishwasher, pull out a clean cup, walk to the Keurig and put in my favorite coffee pod, set the cup on the base, pull the handle, push the brew button, and wah lah!...coffee brewing.  After it finishes, I add my sugar and cream and take a sweet sip of my caffeine nectar.   I hear the sound of  "pop" as my toast has reached perfection, so I turn to retrieve my toast and smear some butter on it.  As I take my first step, my eyes catch up to the direction I'm going and .........AHHHHHHH!

Little Mouse, why are you sitting all humped up in front of my refrigerator just staring at me with those beady little eyes????  How long have you been staring......watching......stalking.....

After I scream and nearly drop my cup of coffee, I stomp my foot (well, what else would you expect me to do?).  Little Mouse scurries under my fridge and I tip toe to my toaster.  Okay, I'm feeling some  relief, you know, the whole outta sight outta mind sort of thing.  Feeling pretty good about myself, I take my pretty little plate of toast and my steaming cup of coffee into my living room, sit down on my favorite chair, prop my feet up and settle in to watch a little news while sipping on my tasty cup of caffeine.

I reach down to get my piece of buttery toast, put it to my mouth and raise my eyes.......AHHHHH!
Little Mouse is sitting in front of my chair across the room staring......watching......stalking.......

I jump up, toast still in hand, and Little Mouse runs under the chair, but I can still see him peeping at me under the chair.  So I do the only thing I know to do.  Stomp.  As I lay my toast in the plate, I bend to pick up my weapon of choice....my shoes.

He runs over to the tv stand and I see him starting toward the grandkids toys behind the stand.  "Oh, no you don't, Little Mouse."  Casting all fear aside, I cross the room to fight to the death.  No one messes with my grand kids' toys, not even Little Mouse.

Alright, so maybe I'm not fearless.  Thoughts of "what if he runs up my leg" and "what if he attacks" begin to pass through my mind, so I stop.  It's a stand off.  It's a flashback of the OK Corral.  With shoe in hand, I make my move.  I stomp.  He starts scurrying....I scream.....he scurries.....I throw my shoe.  Then.....OH MY LORD......he starts crawling up my curtain!  AHHHHHHH!

As I'm screaming, I throw my other shoe and pray I don't bust out a window.  It's a direct hit!  He falls to the ground....he's laying there twitching, and for a second I think, "Aww, Little Mouse is hurting and I need to baby him." 

Regaining my senses, I attack again.  Needless to say, Little Mouse will not be playing with my grand kids' toys.  No sir.....not in MY house.....huh uh.....this Mimi's bad to the bone.

So, now Little Mouse is in the resting place of all other little mouse relatives that messed with this bad mama, out in my field...where I threw him from my dust pan like throwing a shot put, turned ran in the house, slammed the door and shivered.

Whew. 

 

My Friend

We all know the Proverbs 18:24 verse, most of us have quoted it, "A man that hath friends shall show himself friendly; and there is a friend that sticketh closer than a brother."  It needs no explaining, it's pretty much self explanatory.  It's very simple, very direct, yet it speaks volumes. 

I love the second part of that verse because in my lifetime I have found a handful of these friends.  When you are so low that you have to look up to see the bottom and you have a person that will still be by your side, you have found a friend.

During the failing health of my mother, in which time I was still grieving the loss of my dearest sister, I had a friend.  She would let me cry to her, she would let me be angry about circumstances, she would stay by my side.  When speaking the name of my sister made other people uncomfortable, or would leave them wondering why I still talked about her after she was gone, my friend would smile at my stories and encourage me to talk more.  She not only offered to help during those long days and nights and many trips out of state, she listened, she went with me, she stayed by my side.
 
When my husband's office caught fire and had to be renovated and remodeled, there she was.  She didn't just say, "I'm sorry for your problems", she acted.  When I was painting, ripping out walls, unhinging cabinets, sanding, cleaning....there she was.  Her face was as dirty as mine and her hands as bruised.  There were days when I had to go check on my mother, but the work continued because she didn't quit, even when I wasn't there.  Oh, she said she needed to do it to get her mind off her own problems at the time, she said it helped her, but, no, I was the one who was lucky to have her in my life at that time.

There are many well intentioned people who say, "if there's anything I can do, just call" , but a friend that sticketh closer than a brother says, "I'm coming over and this is what we're going to do."
 
My friend and I have worked ourselves silly at one project or another, we've sat down to have lunch with dirty faces and stained hands, but laughed like two goons over nothing in particular.  My friend and I have gone on trips that we ended up climbing through windows, we've shopped til we actually did drop (because my friend has to touch everything in the store), we've had spontaneous outings, sweated like hogs working together, planned and decorated anything we could, fussed at inconsiderate people then feel ashamed (sometimes), had moments of panic at each other's driving, and cried together at each other's heartaches.
 

It's nothing for one of us to call the other in the morning and say, "hey, I'm going....do you want to go with me" and we jump in the car for a spontaneous trip to who knows where.  She's babysat my kids, hugged my grandkids and been part of our family gatherings.

She's not my sister by blood, but she is my heart sister.  What a grand thing to have a friend.

Proverbs 17:17a  A friend loveth at all times.....

The Joys of Motherhood

Ahhhh, the joys of motherhood.  There is not one thing on this earth that is more important than the position of motherhood.  Fatherhood is probably a tie, but I like to think we mothers are maybe one step ahead.

It begins with the sleepless nights because of this new little person in our home who really doesn't care who's asleep when the hunger pain hits. As you wake with a shock because you think the police siren is blaring in your room, you realize it's only the wails of that person who is no longer than your thigh bone.   They decide it's more fun to snuggle on mommy than to lay in their bed, and they demand their soiled diapers be changed that instant and then cry when you struggle to remove it.

And as they grow, they can live in a soiled diaper.  They don't care.  It belongs to them and they want to keep it.  So when you finally catch them sloshing through the house it takes straight jackets, body slams and wrestling moves to pin them down long enough to clean them up.

The toddler years....the terrible two's is a blur of giggles, tantrums, sticky kisses and dandelion bouquets.  There are imprints of matchbox cars and GI Joes on the soles of your feet, you don't have clothes anymore without stains, and most dinners contain chicken nuggets or mac and cheese.

During the school years your house is an art museum of pictures that contain stick families, happy dogs, and smiling suns.  You struggle to remember the spelling rules...does 'i' come before 'e' and there's something about a 'c'.....how do you divide fractions.....and last minute projects.

Oh, and teenagers....that's a whole new universe.  Where did they get that attitude and why are they acting just like me?  Riding in the car with the new driver involves white knuckles, nausea, lots of Tums and Tylenol.  There are love interests and broken hearts.....victories and failures.  They struggle and strain to burst out of their childhood cocoons to become an adult.

Even though children have no clue, mothers walk every step with them.  Sometimes you carry them, sometimes you're behind them with your arms ready to catch them, sometimes you're hiding in the background as they struggle to make decisions, but you're always in front of them with open arms for encouragement, celebration of accomplishments, or just because you love them. 

I'm so glad that I made that decision to be a mom.  I'm so in awe of those adults who used to be my babies.  I look at them and wonder how they became such great people when I bumbled and fumbled through motherhood, but that's just how God always works; He blesses our efforts and He multiplies our successes.  I was given these tiny little seeds of humans and I have seen them grow and bloom into beautiful, caring, productive adults. 

I am a mother and I am so blessed.



Strength and honour are her clothing; and she shall rejoice in time to come.  Proverbs 31:25

FOCUS

In a recent visit to a white, powdery sandy beach with crystal blue water, I was able to watch the dolphins put on a show each morning, and watched the pelicans swoop down and make nose dives into the ocean for a meal of seafood and then they relax and float on the waters, bobbing up and down as each little wave passed.  There absolutely has to be a God because who else could think up all this stuff!

I make it my personal challenge to find at least one shark tooth when I visit the beach. I'm a person on a mission, I'm focused, I'm a pirate in search of the treasure....I will not be defeated!  It's like I become obsessed.  That's it.  I become obsessed.  I have shark tooth obsessive compulsive disorder...S.T.O.C.D. I would walk along, talking to myself, trying to convince myself that I would come away from that beach victorious. 

One morning on my quest, I even had a man that had just a handful of shells who must have noticed my tunnel vision, and he stopped and asked me very nicely, "just what are you looking for, exactly?" in which I replied very confidently, "shark teeth."  He looked at me as if he was thinking, "Bless her heart, she's the lady with S.T.O.C.D."  So he smiled and walked away as I continued to stare at the ground in my search.  I was so focused in my search one morning that a lady had walked right up beside me and I didn't even see her until she said, "Good morning!"  I was so startled that I threw the sea shell I'd been holding straight up in the air and let out a little squeal.

Every morning I came up empty handed and on the last day of my visit before I was to catch my plane home, I made one last attempt at finding the elusive shark tooth.  As I was walking alone on the beach, I began to talk to God about my family and my friends, and I began to ponder on the wonders of this place we call earth.  How much beauty He has given us,  We have the beautiful shores to walk miles and miles on with the water lapping at our toes, and with each passing wave little odd treasures land at our feet.  There's the shells that are about the size of a baby's fingernail, there are shells that are larger than my hand...shells that have many different colors and shells that are bleached white....shells that are polished to a glassy sheen and shells that are covered in lichen.  And then there is sea glass, drift wood, starfish, sand dollars and an occasional blob of a jellyfish laying along the sand.

So, as I was walking along the beach talking to God about everything and about my quest, in the breezes of the wind and the sounds of the ocean, I believe he whispered in my ear, "You're missing the beauty all around you because you're focused on one thing."   Whoa.  God, do you really have to teach me a lesson right now?  I'm kind of busy...in my search....never mind.  I stood up, gazed up and down the beach just to put in perspective what God had just opened my eyes to and began to reflect.
 
Many people never meet their potential, never find that happiness, never have peace because they're focused on one thing and never see the beauty around them. 

Teenagers who are focused on who's most popular, who's the cutest, who's the best athlete, but they fail to see the one that is quiet, and loyal, and kind.  Husbands who focus on the new coworker who is young, attractive and willing, but doesn't see the mother of his children who is faithful.  The wife that focuses on how great her best friend's husband is, but fails to see her own husband who has worked everyday just to make her life better.  Parents focus on their children's atheletic abilities, but overlook the kindness in their hearts.  Friends focus on what you can do for me, but forget the satisfaction of giving.
 
Let's see if we can get through this day not focusing on what we don't have, but on what God has blessed us with.

If we look at Philippians 4:8, replace the word "whatsoever" with the words  "focus on"  and see if we can get a different perspective.



Philippians 4:8
8 Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things.

Mary, the Mom

As Mary sat rocking her precious baby boy, I'm sure she did as all mothers do...She counted fingers and toes, she touched the translucent ears, she rubbed the feathery hair on his head.  I'm sure she smiled as she looked into the trusting eyes that looked back at her.  .As Mary held her baby boy, she had to wonder what, and who it was that she held in her arms.

As she sang beautiful things to this child she was singing to the Rose of Sharon... the Lily of the Valley... the Dayspring... the Daystar... the Bright and Morning Star.

As she was feeding her child  she was feeding the Bread of Life.

When she called him son, she was talking to the Son of David.... the Son of Man... the Son of Righteousness...the Great I AM.

Mary, either knowing or unknowing, began to prepare this boy that she cradled and rocked.  She was loving him to prepare him for the cruelties that were to come.  She was comforting him to prepare him for the tears he would shed for us.  And as she rocked him, she was molding him into the man that would be the Rock that is Higher than I, the Rock upon which the church is built, The Chief Cornerstone.

Mary was rocking the Rock of our Salvation.

 

 

Luke 1:31 - And, behold, thou shalt conceive in thy womb, and bring forth a son, and shalt call his name JESUS

For This I Am Thankful

I wanted to write the typical Thanksgiving post...what are you thankful for, but in light of today's events and today's problems it almost seems plastic.  So, I would like to get real and just say some things from my heart and hopefully it will touch your heart.

When we see wars, death, terrorism, persecutions, sin being legalized in our own country, a great falling away from the faith, and just the stresses we face each day, sometimes it may be hard
to focus on the things that we are, or need to be, thankful for.

While I'm penning these words, I get a call from a dear Tennessee friend and pastor, who became part of our family because of his close relationship to my sister.  He was so good to her and my sister loved him like a son and through their friendship, he became my friend.  He just called to encourage me and tell me that he is praying for me and my family.  For this, I am very thankful.

Through trials with my grandson, which brings feelings of hopelessness and helplessness, I get a text from a dear friend that just says, "are you okay" and I cry because someone cared enough to ask.  There was no long conversation, no opinions, no advice, just a simple question that showed a heart of love.  For this, I am thankful.

When I get a call from a friend who lets me vent my frustrations, my heartaches, my anger, my troubles and she listens without judging me or condemning me, for this I am thankful.

As I struggle through difficulties and deaths, there are some things that can help make the day a little easier to face.  As all grandparents know, there is just something about the sound of those voices of our grandchildren, there is just something about those smiles and there is just something about those arms around our necks in a sweet hug.  When times get overwhelming, I text my kids "I need a picure" and immediately, through the wonders of electronics, I get a smile on my phone of one of those faces that makes my heart smile.  For this I am thankful.





During those times I get a phone call from my granddaughter when her house is in distress, when she's scared and just needs to hear someone's voice, I am so happy that I can be of some comfort, some consolation.  For this I am thankful




.



One of my granddaughters came to my house the other day and kept repeating, "Mimi, I 'misted' you so much" and kept giving me hugs, it made the troubles of my heart seem so small.  When she left and said, "You will always be my Mimi and I will love you forever and ever" (and yes, her goodbyes are always this dramatic), she gave me something to cherish.  For this I am thankful.




My sons and my husband took me to a West Virginia basketball game the other day, even though my stepdad had just passed and I wasn't much company, they still wanted me to go with them.  They wanted me to have a good time in spite of everything.  For this I am thankful.




 
Two little granddaughters came to visit, we took pictures, played in the floor, and made ghost cookies that we couldn't eat unless we made ghost sounds of ooooooh in a high pitched voices.  There was lots of hugs, kissing faces, chocolate, toys, songs, and dog hugs.  For this I am thankful.








When I told my stepdad goodbye on my last visit, I didn't realize it would be the last goodbye.  And although death is so painful for the living, it can have consolations.  My stepdad was supposed 
to go home on Monday because, once again, he had come through unbelievable circumstances.  He had lived through a brain aneurysm, five brain surgeries, feeding tube for 15 years, and several bouts with pneumonia.

The doctor came in and was just giving him the speech of take care of yourself because you're going home today.  My stepdad just smiled (which he does a lot when he doesn't actually hear what you're saying).  I believe he understood that day.  He looked at my nephew and, in his whispery voice, said, "I'm going home."  My nephew told him that he knew that so he was going to go on to the house and get everything ready for him.  Once again my stepdad said, "I'm going home."   And once again my nephew told him that he understood.  He was going to get it all ready.  My stepdad then said, "No.  You don't understand.  I'm going Home" and he closed his eyes and entered heaven.  For this I am very thankful.

Psalms 107:1 - O give thanks unto the LORD, for [he is] good: for his mercy [endureth] for ever.

Filthy Rags....or Deer Legs

I used to struggle with the story of Cain and Abel and the fact that Cain's offering wasn't good enough.  I always thought that Cain gave the best he had just as Abel did, but what I didn't see was that Cain had already been told what offering was acceptable and what was not.  It would be like a teacher asking the class to write an essay on their summer vacation and one child turns in a page full of math problems with the excuse that they are better at math than writing.  I know that simplifies the whole thing, but it's basically the same.  The authority asks for something, explains the rules, and expects for everyone to comply.

And how often do we do this in our daily lives?  How often do we decide the rules don't really apply to us, so we change them.  The speed limit says 70 mph, so we set our cruise control on 72.  What's up with that?  What difference is that extra 2 mph going to make in the long run?  It's going to get us somewhere, what,  30 seconds sooner, so that's going to change our lives?  Why do we always want to push the limits?

Mothers watch as their toddlers get closer to something they were told not to touch.  The toddler looks back to see if mom is watching as their hand is hovering over the forbidden object.  And then, just as expected, mom sternly says, "NO", and the child touches it anyway.

I watched, the other day, as one of our sweet little granddaughters started to go up our stairs in the house.  She was going very slowly, looking around for mom or dad because she knew she wasn't supposed to go up the stairs alone.  Her mom sees her, tells her "no" and as mom starts toward her to stop her I could see the grin come across her face.  The closer mom got, the faster she went. Not only was she doing what she wasn't supposed to do, she was giggling about it!

I can imagine Cain doing the same thing as he was gathering his offering, going about it with enthusiasm, thinking to himself what a good job he was doing, maybe even giggling a little bit.  He just couldn't wait to show God his offering....his goodness....his righteousness.  He couldn't see God's heart because he was blinded by his own righteousness.

I was doing one of my favorite things in the world to do the other day, which is sitting on my screened porch reading, pondering, and contemplating life.  I had left the screen door to the outside open because my huge polar bear dog, Cleopatra, likes to come in, flop down, let out a huge sigh,  spread herself across half the floor and sleep.  I saw her coming around the porch and it seemed she had a little perk in her step.  She jumped up on the deck, pranced through the screen door wagging her fan of a tail and stood there looking at me with those happy brown eyes.  She was so pleased with herself because she had brought me a gift. She had trotted up to my seat with her prize. I could see the confusion on her face as I screamed, jumped up off my chaise and chased her out of my screened room, with her tail tucked and  a deer leg jangling out of her mouth.

Although she had brought me what she considered her best, it really wasn't what I have in mind when I'm opening a gift.  And isn't that what our righteousness is to God?  He said it was "as filthy rags."  That doesn't mean like a dirty wash cloth.  No, this literally means menstrual cloth, or a cloth that has been wrapped around a runny, pustulous sore.  That's what our righteousness is compared to God's righteousness.  It is filthy, nasty and vile.  Even when we do our best and pat ourselves on the back for our righteous and noble act, it is still smelly and sickening in the nose of God, but a miraculous thing happens when we "do all things through Christ".  We please our Father.

Let's seek God's righteousness in anything we do, not our own because it's as a filthy rag....or a deer leg.



Isaiah 64:6  But we are all as an unclean thing, and all our righteousnesses are as filthy rags;

Two Grannies and a Selfie Stick

Because my cousin likes to stop at such things as the World's Largest Ball of Yarn or The World's Largest Skillet, we had to leave early for our trip from Tennessee to Panama City Beach, Florida.  And by early, I mean, to put it in her words, "We leave at Minus Zero Dark Thirty." 

So, as I get out of bed and stumble through the room with my eyes closed trying to get properly dressed for our excursion, I realize I have ten minutes until "departure time." 

We begin loading up our essentials for the week, like ten outfits, seven pairs of shoes, a jacket for those freezing Florida nights and a jar of marmalade.  Since I'm short and she just reaches my shoulder height, we look like two Hobbits on an impending adventure with enough food to last until winter.

Our whole trip has revolved around taking a Selfie Stick with us to record our every movement. I know nothing about Selfie Sticks or how to use them, I didn't even have one and had to borrow it from my granddaughter, but we just knew that we couldn't survive the trip without one.  Hence, the
picture of  a selfie stick made by mistake because I couldn't figure how the goofy looking thing worked.

Once we had loaded the vehicle until there wasn't room for one more roll of toilet paper and we had Poppy buckled into the backseat, we were off.  A couple of hours down the road and we were ready for breakfast.  After slamming down eggs, toast, grits and pancakes, getting Poppy strapped back in, we were on the road....again.

We decided around lunch time we would just get something quick for the road and since you can't chuck a rock in the south without hitting a Krystal restaurant, we decided this would be the lunch cuisine.  We saw many signs for Krystals, tried our best to locate this connoisseur of bite size burgers, but nine hours later, not only had we not located one, we hadn't eaten either, but, hey, we did learn how to use a Selfie Stick during that time.

The ride down was beautiful, we saw some gorgeous scenery and decided to do our grocery shopping in the World's Smallest Walmart.

After arriving, getting Poppy to the room, and getting unpacked,  my cousin made us dinner and it was delicious!




Day One was quite exhausting, fun, full of random laughter and constant hunger, but in the words of my Daddy on one of our trips, "This was a good day."         And so it was.

What a Day That Will Be

Coming home is such an emotional and joyful time. Kids love coming home after school, dads can't wait to get home after a long day's work, and moms enjoy being there to welcome her little family home to sit around the dinner table and talk of all the experiences of the day.

It's also wonderful when there have been days, weeks and even years of separation from our friends and families that are a part of our church. We reminisce about the fun we've had in the past, we talk about what's going on in our lives now, and we talk of what our plans are until the next time we meet. It's such a sweet time. I just love to hear the words....comng home.

When I sat with my mom in her last days here on this soil and she was in that place between here and heaven, I would lean over close to her face and sing into her ear, " What a day that will be, when my Jesus I shall see. And I look upon his face"

.....and even though she couldn't talk or even open her eyes, I would see her lips start to move as I sang to her and knew that she was singing with me once again.

After my mom's passing, I kept putting off going through some of her things, but finally decided it was time to take care of what needed to be done. While looking through a box of keepsakes, pictures and little odds and ends that she had accumulated while in the nursing home, I came across her Bible. I opened it up and decided to page through it and read the verses that she had underlined.

I flipped it open and it fell to II Timothy chapter four. I glanced down the page to where she had underlined some scriptures and it was verses seven and eight. I was in a very raw and emotional state to begin with, but when I read the verses, I began to weep because not only was God using His Word to speak to me, but so was my mom.

The verses said, "I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith: Henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous judge, shall give me at that day: and not to me only, but unto all them also that love his appearing."

We all have so many loved ones that are waiting in anticipation for us to come home. They have seen the other side. They have experienced the walk with Jesus. They know the joys that await us. And they are standing ready for our homecoming. What a day that will be!

MAMA'S HANDS

                               

　
Her mama's hands were tender as she caressed the fuzzy head,
As she bathed, comforted and tucked the baby into bed.
She would smother those cheeks in kisses and leave little lipstick brands.
The infant loved the gentle touch of her mama's loving hands.

As the fuzzy head turned to copper curls,
And life became full of little girl giggles and twirls.
Toddling through the house and down the hall,
She holds tight to mama's hands determined not to fall.

Later on, the house is full of friends and of all the messes
that young girls make with makeup and princess dresses.
The girls made noises, they laughed, they played pretend
and mama's hands were always opened to every little friend.

The teenage years were full of sleepovers, cheering and boys,
but mama never complained of the activity and noise.
Instead, she smiled, laughed and understood
and made things easier as only mama's hands could.

As mama got older, her steps a little slower, her mind not as clear
she needed the daughter that she held dear.
She needed the help to do chores, make decisions and such
because mama's hands were not able to do as much.

While the daughter watched as her mama became small and frail
she would not leave her, she would not fail.
As her mama reached for her with her aging hands,
and held on with a strength the daughter could not comprehend.

The daughter began to softly sing to her the hymns of long ago
to ease the fear and restlessness her mama began to show.
She watched her mama's hands begin to slowly ease
as she listened to those songs of old, giving her sweet peace.

Her daughter had traded places with her mama that day.
and decided that beside her mama's bed was where she would stay.
She would caress her mama's graying head,
she would bathe her, comfort her and tuck her into bed.

On that last day of time here on earth, she kissed her mama's face.
She said goodbye and asked the Father for His loving grace,
She will know her mama is in the place called Gloryland,
and always remember the touch of her mama's hands.