PRICELESS

Women, what are you worth?  The Bible says that your price if "far above rubies."

I looked up some prices of rubies.  And the exceptional cut rubies are priced anywhere from $3,000 a carat all the way up to $225,000 a carat.  I also looked up conversion charts for carats into pounds and it takes about 2500 carats to make a pound.  Now, if you figure a woman weighs 100 pounds (anything above 100 pounds is just extra!), then she would be 250,000 carats.  So, if you are at the low end of the ruby system, you would be worth $750,000,000!  I can't even figure what you are worth if you were a high end ruby!

Unbelievable, isn't it?  I'm pretty sure that today's society doesn't look at us moms that way.  They think a woman should have a career above all else and, if there is any time left, you could possibly consider a part time spouse, and if there is any time after that, you could fit in 1.5 children.  However, if you possibly do try to fit 1.5 children into this, then you have to let someone else be the caretakers.  After all, wasn't it a popular political figure that said, "it takes a village to raise a child"?  (Let me say, at this point, that I know that there are times when a woman absolutely has to work outside the home....been there, done that.)

A woman who can have children, a husband, a home, a career, and keep all her priorities straight, sure has my applause.

I read an article that said if a stay at home mom was compensated for all her work she would get $138,095 per year.  Personally, I think that's a little low, but it's a start.  And it also stated that a mom that works outside the home should be compensated about $85,939 per year above her paying job.

We moms have to remember that our worth as a mom, outside job or not, is worth millions of dollars in God's eyes.  We have to acknowledge that God thought so much of us that he told us that our price is, well, priceless.

When we see the first wobbly steps, when we see the first toothless grin, when we hear the first time they say ma ma, we know it's priceless.  We see them wave out of the bus window on their first day of kindergarten, we cheer at every ball game, we get hugs for no reason...priceless.  We get to read them bedtime stories, sing, "Jesus loves me", tuck them in and hear them ask God to watch over every single neighbor within a ten mile radius, pray for the cat, the dog and the fish....priceless.  And most blessed of all is when we get to bow our heads together and hear them whisper the invitation of Jesus into their hearts...PRICELESS.

Proverbs 31:10, 28  "Who can find a virtuous woman?  For her price is far above rubies.  Her children arise up, and call her blessed;  her husband also, and he praiseth her."

Grandkids Are the Best

I woke this morning thinking about my grandchildren, as many mornings I do.  I have a grandson, four granddaughters, and four grandpuppies, and they are add so much pleasure to my life (the grandpuppies, not so much, however I have been known to buy them presents and Halloween costumes).  I have nick names for my darlings, and even though my husband gives me the evil eye when I call them their nick names instead of their real names, I do it anyway.  It's my special connection to them.  A name that only their Grandma uses, and the older ones have been known to think Gram was mad at them because I didn't use their "special" names.


While preparing my garden, I think about my grandson, Poot.   He earned that name when he was just a few months old, and he expects me to call him that when we talk.    He's 13, full of energy and action.  He loves outdoors, tearing apart motors, fishing and gardening.  He's autistic.  I know if he was with me he would be trying to tell me nicely that he knows more about gardening than I do.  And he's right.

I spent the day with my oldest granddaughter, Girlie, the other day.  She's 11 going on 21.  She's gorgeous and funny and energetic and talkative.  While Papa was sitting in his favorite seat, which is a recliner with the tv on some sort of sports, we were in my favorite place....the porch.  After eating at a little restaurant with seating overlooking New River, then getting an enormous ice cream cone, we settled in on the porch and talked.  And talked.  And talked. Later, we built a little fire in the fire pit, roasted marshmallows and made s'mores.   I hope that's a memory that she'll always keep of her Grammy.

My mind wandered to a video of one of my other granddaughters, who I call Luvy, because she is.  She was gently looking through the pages of her daddy's Bible, and with each page she turned, she would say, "Jesus loves me"  "this I know".  She's a lover of nature, animals, books, her little sister, and songs.  She loves to close her eyes and rub her face on her sister's little fuzzy head.  And she always has a song going....when she's reading, when she's playing and somehow, even when she's eating.  When I'm at her house, Mimi is the only one who is allowed to get her something to eat or drink, the only one allowed to color with her, the only one allowed to rock her to sleep, and, yea, the only one who is allowed to change her diaper..  She's full of life and giggles. 

Then there's our little princess, who I call Boo, because it was her favorite word when she was so very little.  Anytime you would look at her and do peek a boo, you could get a beautiful, little toothless smile.  She loves princesses, princess castles, princess clothes and princess cartoons.  Boo is very opinionated, even though she's only three, but she's not mean about it or obstinate, she just has her own outlook on life and how things are.  The other day while her daddy was helping me do some yard work, she decided to try her daddy's patience.  When he gently scolded her (because that's all it takes for her tender little heart), she turned around, walked up the steps and into the house.  About a minute later her daddy walked in to check on her and she was sitting on the little doll bench I have at my house.  He asked her what she was doing and she answered, matter of factly, "I'm in timeout."  How funny she is.

And then there's our newest granddaughter, Emma Tay.  I say "Tay" because her older sister can't pronounce Kay yet.  I'm not sure what her special name will be because she's still developing her little personality, but it may always be Tay.  She's so pleasant and laid back.  Doesn't really matter what's going on, she just lays there, smiling, taking it all in in those big, blue eyes.  I have a mental picture burned in my memory of her.  She was feverish, a little fussy and hungry.  She had been crying, so there was stuff running out of her nose and her cheeks were shiny with tears and I looked at her and said, "hey there, Emma Tay" and a big, toothless smile spread across her wet face.  I will always have that picture imprinted in my mind. 

I know, I know.  You really don't want to hear about my grandbabies, but sometimes something is so meaningful to me that I just have to write it, and this morning I was feeling so blessed and honored to be the grandmother of these precious little lives, I just had to write.

I am so blessed.

Sittin' on the Porch

As the sun comes up, sitting on my porch drinking a cup of tea and listening to the chirps and songs of the birds through the woods has to be the most peaceful place ever.  I hear roosters in the distance, a variety of little birds, a woodpecker somewhere far away,  and the lonesome cooing of a dove. 

When I hear that dove, it takes me back to a place and time that existed when I was a little girl, sitting on the porch of my Papa and Grandma.  Even as a child, I would hear that lonely song of the dove and think how sad it must be, and yet, it was a comfort to me.

Many times I would sit on Papa's lap and rub his old, wrinkled hands and push on the mushy fingertips and thumbs and wonder why his hands were so different from mine.  I would see Grandma quietly sitting in her chair, with her legs crossed, looking down the road toward all her beautiful flowers, and wonder what she was thinking.

Grandma and Papa weren't the type to get down on the floor and play games, or bustle about trying to keep me busy, they were quiet...steady....a strong force. 

Grandma would let me take down her hair, that had never been cut, from it's ever present bun on her head.  She would drape it across the arm of her old rocking chair and I would gently pull a comb through those long strands of charcoal, white and silver.  She would let me put my coloring book across her lap and we would quietly color pages without saying a word, but yet enjoying each other's company.

Papa and I would take many trips up and down the dusty, dirt road, my little child's hand in his big, worn hand.  Not many words were spoken, but a lifetime of memories were made. 

I miss Grandma and Papa and the serenity they created in that old log house with the large, plank porch.

Proverbs 13:22  A good man leaveth an inheritance to his children's children...

What I Did On My Vacation Day 2

What a relaxing vacation this is!  I am a chillin', laid back, relaxin' woman today.  I'm telling you, this is no place for the person who is running from one activity to the other to try and fit everything in before it's time to go home again.  This is the place for a prop your feet up, watching the ocean, sippin' ice tea kind of vacation. 

We started the day with a trip to the local Baptist church.  The people were so sweet and friendly and the service was so worshipful..  We sang songs of praise and saw lifted hands all over the church.  The message was one of hope, of peace, of anticipation.

Afterwards, we walked through the little town in search of the perfect  place to have lunch.  The thing about quaint, quirky little towns is that they have their share of odd little restaurants.  We decided on a small cafe, was shown to our seats, and given the menus.  It didn't take us but a glance down the menu to know we're in the wrong place.  A sliver of this, a taste of that and not enough food to fill a saucer, not to mention, things we'd never heard of, so we decided to sneak out.  We waited until the coast was clear, quietly tiptoed away from our seats, and hurriedly scampered down the street, holding in our giggles.  We felt like we had been bad little children, but were glad we got away with it.

We found a nice restaurant, got our tummies full and spent the rest of the day just drifting in and out of cute little stores. 

We visited the antique store, which is one of my most favorite things to do.  It's like treasure hunting.  You're not sure what you're looking for, but when you find it, you're ecstatic!  You know it's an antique when you have to read the little tag on it to see what it is. The sad thing is, is that I'm seeing things in antique stores that I had when I was younger, so what does that make me?  Well, let's not go there.

Grab some groceries, back to the condo, out on the balcony, feet propped up, watching the ocean again....yep, this is my kind of vacation.




Matthew 11:28  Come unto me all ye that labour and  are heavy laden; and I will give you rest.

What I Did On My Vacation - Day One

We have arrived!!  My heart's beating faster because we're driving up the driveway to our condo.  This is always like opening a gift.  Am I going to like it, or am I going to have to put on a happy face and pretend it's just what I wanted.

This is like some kind of exam for me.  I researched, I studied, I did my homework, and now I find out what grade I received.

Okay, it has a nice parking area with lots of lights. Check.  It has an elevator for all my piles of suitcases.  Check.  It has a keyless entry....and it works! Check.  Drum roll, please....

As I open the door and look inside.... IT'S CLEAN!  Check!  It has a pretty pool! Check!  And the views?? GORGEOUS!  Double check!! 

I made an A!!  Woohoo!!

We decided to go to a little restaurant we had visited years ago.  The Crab Trap is located in a building that is over a hundred years old, all the old brick still showing inside and the same creaky wooden floors that were walked on a millennium ago.

With my navigational skills, we only got lost a couple of times.  We're on a small island, so there's only so many times you can get lost. 

The town is quaint, with lots of little shops and cafes.  It's a historical district, so the architecture is beautiful.  As we stroll along, we can hear music wafting out of the buildings, we see sea gulls floating overhead, and families dragging children and pushing strollers.

Well, of course I get crab legs at The Crab Trap.  What else would you get at a crab restaurant.  Let the cracking begin! 

The way I eat crab legs is to crack them all at once, pile up all that sweet, delicious meat on my plate, then I get to eat it, but not until all the cracking is done. 

Hubby just sits with an astonished look, as shells are cracking, water is dripping, and meat is flying all over our table.  He's much more conserved than I am.   He eats food you don't have to use your fingers with, but what fun I'm having!  It's another exam.  How much meat can I get out in one piece, and how fast can I do it? 

With butter all over my chin, my belly full, and a smile on my face, I think I aced this test.  Yea, Hubby gets a little embarrassed, but he loves me.  I can tell by that smile on his face.


Genesis 9:3  Every moving thing that liveth shall be meat for you; even as the green herb I have given you all things.

What I Did On My Vacation

Packing for vacation is such a tedious task for me.  I make lists.  I make lists of places to stay.  I make lists of things to do.  I make lists of things to pack. 

Picking out a place to stay is tortuous for me.  My husband could just close his eyes, put his finger on a place, and be perfectly content to stay wherever the all knowing finger landed.  However, for me I have certain criteria.  It has to be clean, it has to have beautiful views, it has to have a gorgeous pool, and I want pretty landscaping.  I don't want to look out my window and see a parking lot.  Oh, and it has to be cheap, uh, I mean inexpensive.

Sounds pretty picky.  And, rarely do I get all the things on my wish list, but occasionally I will stumble on the perfect place.  This is why it takes me forever to make vacation plans.

So, when the day finally arrives I'm in a flurry of activity.  I get my lists, begin a collection of all the necessary items.  You know what I mean, girls.  The outfit for what if it gets cold.  The outfit for what if I go there.  The shoes to match each outfit and outing.  Coordinating jewelry...hair accessories...hats....

Hubby's happy with a change of clothes, a change of underwear, and a ball cap.  He's ready to roll.

Anyway, on this particular day of leaving for vacation to go to warmer climates, I decide to wear this cute little peasant skirt.  You women know what I mean, but for the men who don't have a clue, it's a skirt with rows of material.  You have one row, then another row is sewn on, then another, then another.  Well, this particular skirt was a little long, so I decided that if I took off the last row of material, it would be the right length and I wouldn't have to hem it because each row is already finished off.  I'm figuring ten, maybe even fifteen minutes tops. 

I get my little seam ripper and begin the task.  I don't even bother with taking the skirt off.  I just sit down and start plucking away at the threads.

Okay, it's taking a little longer than I thought.  After fifteen minutes I'm still ripping and I'm not even halfway, but I'm too far to stop.  After forty minutes I'm still ripping, I'm starting to panic and I hear Hubby's vehicle coming up the driveway.  Must rip faster.  I'm ripping as fast as I can get that tiny seam ripper to go, there's piles of material in my lap, Hubby walks in and says those words that instill fear in my heart, "Are you ready?"  The reason these are fearful words is because that's when he starts carrying suitcases out to the car whether they're packed or not.  It's when I have to start running around throwing last minute necessities in, like rubberbands, tissue, and a spatula.

I don't know people.  At this point I'm just frantic.  I'm dragging around yards of material behind me as I run through the house grabbing anything I see to throw in the suitcase that could make a difference of whether we have a great vacation or not.  IT ALL DEPENDS ON ME.  Ahh, the pressure!

Okay, breath.  It's going to be okay.  I finally finish with the skirt, but the little underskirt is now longer than the actual skirt.  I don't even care.  I wear my little peasant skirt that now has a slip showing, grab my sweater, (just in case it gets cold in Florida...in the middle of spring), and run out the door.

We are now officially on our way.  Oh, no!  I forgot my metal detector!


I Corinthians 14:40  Let all things be done decently and in order.

From Winter to Spring



I love spring.  No, I really, really love spring.  I LOVE spring!  There's just something about going through a windy, harsh winter where everything turns brown and dies, to seeing blooms burst open, smelling the sweet, freshly mowed grass, and hearing all the different bird songs.  It's just beautiful watching the earth begin to live again.

And how can we not compare this new birth with the new birth of our Saviour?  It just doesn't seem possible to be able to watch the earth begin to live again without thinking of the day that Jesus was beaten, killed and withered, placed in the ground only to have it burst open three days later and our Rose of Sharon bloom again! 

I was on the road the other day, and thinking about how devastating it has been to lose my sister, how heartbroken my husband was to lose both his parents, and all the other losses we've had in the past few years.  And I began to think of people I know who have also experienced great losses in their lives.  And then a song came on the radio that was the first song I heard playing after my sister passed, so it became my song.  It was my song of loss, heartache, and despair.

The name of the song is "Worn". *  It begins "I'm tired I'm worn, My heart is heavy from the work it takes to keep on breathing." And as I was listening to the words again my mind began to wander back to the days of Christ, when the disciples and He lived together, ate together, rested together and worked together.  I began to think of the friendship that they must have developed.  How they rose each morning maybe being a little raucous (as young men together often are), laughing, joking and picking at one another.  Then maybe things slowed down as they began to prepare their meal and began to prepare for the lessons they would learn from the Master.
As they gathered round the table, or the campfire to break bread, the seriousness of the day enveloped them and their hearts became united and broken for the people they would encounter that day.  As they walked with Jesus down the road, their feet becoming covered in dust, they would hear Jesus speak.  "Therefore I say unto you, Take no thought for your life, what ye shall eat....consider the ravens: for they neither sow nor reap....and God feedeth them:  how much more are ye better than the
fowls?"    As they walked along the way, talking, a voice was heard over their conversation.  They went to fetch the person who called out to Jesus, and Jesus asked the man what he wanted.  All he wanted was to be able to see again, so the disciples were witness to Jesus just speaking the miracle of sight.

It must have been such a closeness that only brothers can enjoy, to share in everything in life.  The hardships, the work, the fun, the excitement, the struggles were the things they experienced on a daily basis.  And even though Jesus tried to prepare them for their "winter", there was no way to really comprehend what lay ahead for them all.

The song continues, "My soul feels crushed by the weight of this world, And I know you can give me rest." At the onset of the end of their earthly relationship with Christ, the disciples must have been like ants when their home has been crushed by a footstep...confused, scared, scattered in different directions, not believing what was happening.  Their fear and despair must have been palatable.
They couldn't eat, they couldn't sleep, they could only see their whole world and everything they believed in coming to an end.  It's the shock of great loss that encompasses all of us.  They were living a nightmare.  They were seeing the Saviour of all mankind die.    They were losing hope when their Hope was taken down, lifeless from the cross.  They were seeing the One who talked of eternal life be put in a grave. 

"So I cry out with all that I have left, Let me see redemption win, Let me know the struggle ends, That you can mend a heart that's frail and torn.  I want to know a song can rise, From the ashes of a broken life, And all that's dead  inside has been reborn." 

This must have been their song, too....despair, defeat, death.  But yet, in that tiny room where they met in hiding,  there was a glimmer of belief, a tiny spark of hope.  What was it He said?  "Yet a little while, and the world seeth me no more; but ye see me:  because I live, ye shall live also."  Did he really mean what I think he meant?  Is it true?  And as they pondered these things, Mary Magdalene bursts through the door, her face shiny with tears, and babbling something about seeing Jesus!  While they were trying to understand it all and were whispering among themselves in order not to be found out, they hear a voice.  A voice that was as familiar to them as their own!  "Peace be unto you."

Stumbling over themselves, giddy with relief and joy, they were ecstatic!  It was true!!  It was all real!!  He lives!!  He lives again!!

John 8:51  Verily, verily, I say unto you, If a man keep my saying, he shall never see death.

*Worn, by Tenth Avenue North