A palm tree between here and Melbourne intrigues me. It slants slightly toward the river for 15 or 20 feet, then takes a sharp turn away from the river toward US#1. For the next few feet, it slowly makes its way back towards the river. A very strange looking tree, but it reminded me of my walk with the Lord. How?
Things seem to be going very well for a while, then I decide to take over and I take off for parts unknown. All the while, however, God, in His steadfast love, draws me back to Himself.
For example, I had an appointment with my neurologist this morning. I've been fussing and fretting about it for weeks. To go back a few appointments, last summer, I asked the doctor about Alzheimer's tests. I was curious, but he immediately arranged for the test. It's a simple test of questions, testing memory and ability to concentrate.
I asked the doctor why he gave it to me. He said Alzheimer's occurs more frequently in women at age 70 and increases even more at age 80. If I remember correctly, it's 25% of 70 year olds and 50% of 80 year olds. I thought the one test that I did "very well" on would mean no more tests, but I was wrong. The next appointment, the nurse gave it to me again. This time I noticed she was writing numbers on the test and I got offended. Any scoring she does is purely subjective and I wasn't going there. I was fully ready to go in there this morning and lower the boom.
Before I went, I had my time alone with the Lord. The Psalmist asked the Lord to be His refuge. Sarah Young often advises the simple calling on Jesus can make a great difference. I asked the Lord to be my refuge, my shield, my fortress. As I was praying, I was reminded I was obsessing about this offensive test and asked forgiveness, asking the Lord to be my focus for the day.
The nurse that checked me in was a little cool. She's also the one who administers the test and takes my weight (UGH). I mentioned I was early because we have to drive 30 miles and I never know what traffic and construction will be like. She smiled and said she understood. I then told her about a sign in a bar in Pearl City, Hawaii, that says, "Every road between here and Honolulu is under construction." That made her laugh.
When it came time for weight, blood pressure, and Alzheimer's test, I cooperated with a smile. When we got done with the test, I asked her about her writing on it, out of curiosity. Turns out, each question has a point for each correctly answered question. She was merely indicating how I answered each questions. Facts, not opinions, as I had assumed. We ended up having one of the nicest meetings I've ever had. I realized I'd had a bad attitude and a chip on my shoulder. Thanks to the Lord's steadfast love, He took away the chip and the attitude, filled me with His love, and made my appointment much more pleasant for all concerned.
One of the questions on the test asks that world be spelled backwards. I told her I could quote the books of the New Testament backwards. She looked at me in awe and said it was impressive. Not sure why I even mentioned it. But, I can. If it keeps the Alzheimer's at bay, I'll do it.
She even complimented me on my handwriting! She asked if I were a calligrapher! That is a first. My handwriting is terrible. I've been practicing and trying to do better because I teach cursive and it's a little hypocritical to have terrible handwriting and feel free to correct boys who don't.
The doctor's news was also good. All in all, a great day. The best of it is that God drew me to Himself, corrected my bad attitude and filled me with joy. My tree may be crooked, but it's thriving, by God' wonderful grace.
Wednesday, December 30, 2015
Tuesday, December 29, 2015
Farewell, Christmas
Round trip completed safely, thank You, Lord. Gifts opened, expressions of gratitude made, good food eaten. Gift wrap in the trash. Wonderful family memories made. Today, the trees came down. Lights out. Decorations boxed and stored. Glitter vacuumed (most of it). All over till next year.
Bob made the comment it's a good thing it comes only once a year. Daughter-in-law said that's what birthdays do-come once a year. Thanks, Deb, for recognizing what we are actually celebrating, the birth of Jesus Christ.
However, it was harder to find Him this year than ever. There are fewer carols playing in stores-humbug to them. I shop much more when I hear carols. The word "merry" can be seen about everywhere, but "Christmas" not so much.
Santas are everywhere. I have no real problem with that, as long as Jesus is seen more. My favorite ornament is Santa kneeling at the manger. Yes, we told our children about Santa, but we also told them about Saint Nicholas, so they could make the connection of celebrating Jesus' birthday with exchanging gifts.
The news said that purchases were up a whopping 8% this year. Should make stores happy. However, since they're not willing to honor the traditions of the season,why is it being done? I have to wonder if generations older than me felt the same way I do now when they saw traditions they held dear be ignored or even ridiculed as one woman did on "The Five" yesterday. She said on another program her comments sometimes cause people to threaten her. I won't do that, but her comment was very disappointing.
I keep hoping that next year will be better. This was a wonderful year, don't get me wrong. However, I did not feel there was much in the way of worship of the King of kings, the Prince of Peace, Immanuel.
Maybe it's a good thing Christmas is at the end of the year. A week later, we make resolutions to do better next year. That's my number 1 resolution for 2016. I want to worship Him, know Him, obey Him, and draw closer to Him. Maybe we need to come up with a stronger word than "resolution" so we'll actually do what we say we want to do.
We say Happy New Year. It will be much happier for me if I keep that resolution.
Bob made the comment it's a good thing it comes only once a year. Daughter-in-law said that's what birthdays do-come once a year. Thanks, Deb, for recognizing what we are actually celebrating, the birth of Jesus Christ.
However, it was harder to find Him this year than ever. There are fewer carols playing in stores-humbug to them. I shop much more when I hear carols. The word "merry" can be seen about everywhere, but "Christmas" not so much.
Santas are everywhere. I have no real problem with that, as long as Jesus is seen more. My favorite ornament is Santa kneeling at the manger. Yes, we told our children about Santa, but we also told them about Saint Nicholas, so they could make the connection of celebrating Jesus' birthday with exchanging gifts.
The news said that purchases were up a whopping 8% this year. Should make stores happy. However, since they're not willing to honor the traditions of the season,why is it being done? I have to wonder if generations older than me felt the same way I do now when they saw traditions they held dear be ignored or even ridiculed as one woman did on "The Five" yesterday. She said on another program her comments sometimes cause people to threaten her. I won't do that, but her comment was very disappointing.
I keep hoping that next year will be better. This was a wonderful year, don't get me wrong. However, I did not feel there was much in the way of worship of the King of kings, the Prince of Peace, Immanuel.
Maybe it's a good thing Christmas is at the end of the year. A week later, we make resolutions to do better next year. That's my number 1 resolution for 2016. I want to worship Him, know Him, obey Him, and draw closer to Him. Maybe we need to come up with a stronger word than "resolution" so we'll actually do what we say we want to do.
We say Happy New Year. It will be much happier for me if I keep that resolution.
Monday, December 28, 2015
Tangible
If my Christmas blog seemed like a brag or a selfish list of the gifts I received, I expressed it badly leading you to misunderstand. And, I'm sorry. I apologize. In the first place, I've been needing a laptop for quite a while now. It was a wonderful gift. Even better, it was a tangible expression of children who love me.
Bob had every intention of making a laptop his gift to me this year until our son and daughter-in-law beat him to it. He then decided to get me a purse and shoes, but the purse was the kid's gift for my birthday. While out shopping, I saw a pair of shoes that were supposed to be comfortable on my bunion. Since it was Christmas Eve, Bob laughingly agreed to the purchase when I asked him Before I made the purchase, he took Deb outside to the porch and scolded her for messing up his plans. He then had Deb wrap a large amount of cash in a small box to give to me from him. That was his tangible expression of his love for me. He was emotional as he told me I could only spend it on clothes. No bills, no appliances, nothing by clothes.
I now understand the wisdom of our son and daughter-in-law's agreement that no personal purchases be made between Thanksgiving and Christmas. It might be on the gift list.
Getting back to tangible, it's my heart's desire to be able to tell those who will listen that sex is not love. It's a tangible expression of that love. Or not. That's why the movie my granddaughter wanted me to see was so disturbing. It had nothing to do with love. She did say the story would eventually work into something sweet and loving. Sorry. I'm not buying it anymore than I'd eat a delicious dinner covered in sewage. Wouldn't it be nice if Hollywood would go back to understanding the imagination is so much more powerful than the visual? It would be even nicer if they understood that indiscriminate sex has nothing to do with love.
One of my favorite movies is "The Quiet Man." You don't have to see sweaty, entangled flesh on a bed to know when love has been consummated. A certain look, a sweet smile, a brief touch. I'm a firm believer that love begins in the spirit. There's a certain connection experienced. Over time, it moves to the soul. Love is expressed. Finally, love is tangibly exhibited by giving self to another and no one else. That's how it's been done throughout history and until society returns to that, we'll continue to have STDs, broken hearts, single moms, impoverished children, and lonely, lonely people who can't figure out what went wrong.
Did I need the laptop or the cash to know I was loved or to celebrate the birth of my Lord and Savior? Or course, not, but every once in a while, that tangible expression doesn't hurt. It made the day very special, not because of the gifts but of what they expressed.
Bob had every intention of making a laptop his gift to me this year until our son and daughter-in-law beat him to it. He then decided to get me a purse and shoes, but the purse was the kid's gift for my birthday. While out shopping, I saw a pair of shoes that were supposed to be comfortable on my bunion. Since it was Christmas Eve, Bob laughingly agreed to the purchase when I asked him Before I made the purchase, he took Deb outside to the porch and scolded her for messing up his plans. He then had Deb wrap a large amount of cash in a small box to give to me from him. That was his tangible expression of his love for me. He was emotional as he told me I could only spend it on clothes. No bills, no appliances, nothing by clothes.
I now understand the wisdom of our son and daughter-in-law's agreement that no personal purchases be made between Thanksgiving and Christmas. It might be on the gift list.
Getting back to tangible, it's my heart's desire to be able to tell those who will listen that sex is not love. It's a tangible expression of that love. Or not. That's why the movie my granddaughter wanted me to see was so disturbing. It had nothing to do with love. She did say the story would eventually work into something sweet and loving. Sorry. I'm not buying it anymore than I'd eat a delicious dinner covered in sewage. Wouldn't it be nice if Hollywood would go back to understanding the imagination is so much more powerful than the visual? It would be even nicer if they understood that indiscriminate sex has nothing to do with love.
One of my favorite movies is "The Quiet Man." You don't have to see sweaty, entangled flesh on a bed to know when love has been consummated. A certain look, a sweet smile, a brief touch. I'm a firm believer that love begins in the spirit. There's a certain connection experienced. Over time, it moves to the soul. Love is expressed. Finally, love is tangibly exhibited by giving self to another and no one else. That's how it's been done throughout history and until society returns to that, we'll continue to have STDs, broken hearts, single moms, impoverished children, and lonely, lonely people who can't figure out what went wrong.
Did I need the laptop or the cash to know I was loved or to celebrate the birth of my Lord and Savior? Or course, not, but every once in a while, that tangible expression doesn't hurt. It made the day very special, not because of the gifts but of what they expressed.
Sunday, December 27, 2015
Pushing the envelope
Had some wonderful alone time with my granddaughter yesterday, Among other things we discussed the differences in lifestyles from when I was her age (26) and mine now (72). There are so many things that are different, but one thing that doesn't seem to change is human nature.
One the the things we talked about, is that everyone does it who is her age. I pointed out that we all tend to think what our social group does is what everyone's doing, but that's not necessarily the case. That's when I told her that teens, especially, push the envelope. It's human nature for teens to do that. However, her envelope is much, much bigger because her dad's generation and mine had pushed it. So much of what we pushed I now see as destructive to society as a whole. To be honest, I'm sure no generation realizes what pushing the envelope will look like in future generations.
The conversation started when she asked me to watch a Christmas movie with her. I should have known I wouldn't like it. It was an R. Right off the bat, the nudity started. Then came the f bomb and the blatant copulating. I walked out, not only disappointed at the movie, but disgusted at the number of actors I admire for the majority of their work. This was the bottom of the barrel as far as movies go, in spite of the big names in it.
During the conversation, I told her about a novel set in the time of Christ. According to the author, the Apostle John lived in Ephesus, the sex capitol of the world. I have every reason to believe the author did her due diligence in researching the times in which the story is set. If so, the behavior described in the first century-20 centuries ago-was even worse in some situations than it is today. My granddaughter said she would not tolerate that kind of behavior.
There are some things my age sees as intolerable, but we have no choice. It's a part of today's culture. On reflection, those intolerable things came from enough someones pushing the envelope until it became the norm. I've told my family when their behavior is inappropriate, I have to accept it. I can't understand it, agree with it, or change it, brokenhearted though I will be. They've given me no option but to accept it.
That leads me to wonder how far are my granddaughter's children and grandchildren going to push the envelope? What we did in defiance as teenagers was so innocent when we compare it to what's being done today and we never dreamed our world would look like this when we were her age. The behavior described in the novel, I firmly believe, will be commonplace when she is a mother. I don't think she'll have to wait until she's a grandmother of a 26 year old.
The Bible says we sow the wind, we'll reap the whirlwind. Sadly, we are. On second thought, maybe I don't need to be such a gloomy gus. If shocking things done in the first century haven't come around or stayed for 20 centuries, God has intervened through someone or some event. We call that revival. Lord, please send a revival and let it begin with me.
One the the things we talked about, is that everyone does it who is her age. I pointed out that we all tend to think what our social group does is what everyone's doing, but that's not necessarily the case. That's when I told her that teens, especially, push the envelope. It's human nature for teens to do that. However, her envelope is much, much bigger because her dad's generation and mine had pushed it. So much of what we pushed I now see as destructive to society as a whole. To be honest, I'm sure no generation realizes what pushing the envelope will look like in future generations.
The conversation started when she asked me to watch a Christmas movie with her. I should have known I wouldn't like it. It was an R. Right off the bat, the nudity started. Then came the f bomb and the blatant copulating. I walked out, not only disappointed at the movie, but disgusted at the number of actors I admire for the majority of their work. This was the bottom of the barrel as far as movies go, in spite of the big names in it.
During the conversation, I told her about a novel set in the time of Christ. According to the author, the Apostle John lived in Ephesus, the sex capitol of the world. I have every reason to believe the author did her due diligence in researching the times in which the story is set. If so, the behavior described in the first century-20 centuries ago-was even worse in some situations than it is today. My granddaughter said she would not tolerate that kind of behavior.
There are some things my age sees as intolerable, but we have no choice. It's a part of today's culture. On reflection, those intolerable things came from enough someones pushing the envelope until it became the norm. I've told my family when their behavior is inappropriate, I have to accept it. I can't understand it, agree with it, or change it, brokenhearted though I will be. They've given me no option but to accept it.
That leads me to wonder how far are my granddaughter's children and grandchildren going to push the envelope? What we did in defiance as teenagers was so innocent when we compare it to what's being done today and we never dreamed our world would look like this when we were her age. The behavior described in the novel, I firmly believe, will be commonplace when she is a mother. I don't think she'll have to wait until she's a grandmother of a 26 year old.
The Bible says we sow the wind, we'll reap the whirlwind. Sadly, we are. On second thought, maybe I don't need to be such a gloomy gus. If shocking things done in the first century haven't come around or stayed for 20 centuries, God has intervened through someone or some event. We call that revival. Lord, please send a revival and let it begin with me.
Saturday, December 26, 2015
Touchy little boogers
I'm on my laptop trying to navigate through the sorts of things I already know how to do (Facebook, e-mail). Laptops are touchy little things. If you've posted on Facebook and I haven't responded, it's probably because I haven't got the hang of scrolling, yet. I go too far and have to back up. I back up and go too far, missing the ones I want to see. I have learned this morning that it takes a very delicate touch.
I also need to learn to keep my fingers off the tracker while I'm thinking. All sorts of little boxes pop up or the cursor departs to places I did not intend for it to go. When I start to type again, my letters are not in the right place.
How I get Facebook to expand the size of the pictures and put the comments on the side, I have no idea. It's happened several times this morning. My answer? Close it out and go back in. Can't tell you how many times that's happened.
On e-mail, Sometimes there's a blue line across some of what's written or even all of it. Don't know how that happens or how to get rid of it. It comes in that way. Haven't done anything to it, but need to learn how to get rid of it so I can at least see what my friend has to say.
My generation and the generation under mine often talk about young people today being whiners. Everything's too hard. Well, guess what? They ain't the only ones! I'm not saying this is too hard. That would be insulting my God-given intelligence. But, I will say it ain't easy! I've said it before and I'll say it again. I will conquer this. I will. That will be the best way I can say thank you to my son and daughter-in-law for giving me this gift. Stay tuned.
I also need to learn to keep my fingers off the tracker while I'm thinking. All sorts of little boxes pop up or the cursor departs to places I did not intend for it to go. When I start to type again, my letters are not in the right place.
How I get Facebook to expand the size of the pictures and put the comments on the side, I have no idea. It's happened several times this morning. My answer? Close it out and go back in. Can't tell you how many times that's happened.
On e-mail, Sometimes there's a blue line across some of what's written or even all of it. Don't know how that happens or how to get rid of it. It comes in that way. Haven't done anything to it, but need to learn how to get rid of it so I can at least see what my friend has to say.
My generation and the generation under mine often talk about young people today being whiners. Everything's too hard. Well, guess what? They ain't the only ones! I'm not saying this is too hard. That would be insulting my God-given intelligence. But, I will say it ain't easy! I've said it before and I'll say it again. I will conquer this. I will. That will be the best way I can say thank you to my son and daughter-in-law for giving me this gift. Stay tuned.
Friday, December 25, 2015
Merry Christmas
Merry Christmas to one and all! I do hope this has been a day of joy, peace, and hope. Our hope for you is that you've enjoyed your family and had lots of fun to boot. We've been teasing my daughter-in-about all the "memories" she's been making.
We believe that memories hang on the mistakes that are made, not the perfections of the event. She's made a bunch, so we have many memories about today. She started by putting our granddaughter's stocking goodies in the wrong stocking and Ashley's stocking hung empty.
We have the tradition of passing gifts, one at a time and allowing the person to open it before going to the tree for more gifts. Mark was playing "elf" and having difficulty doing it. He was finding gifts for everyone but me. Finally, Deb picked up a package from the front of the tree and handed it to me. It was a disc for security! It was then decided that they would dig around at the back of the tree to find the computer the disc went into! I now have my laptop. It brought tears to my eyes to know the family was willing to spend that kind of money for me. My granddaughter and son have spent a lot of time setting it up for me.
Then I made the mistake of not putting a name tag on one of the gifts, so Mark opened it to find it was for my grandson. Oops.
Deb apparently set the wrong time on the timer for the Christmas breakfast casserole. It was obviously unfinished. We were laughing about having so many gifts to open, we had to take and break and come back to it. We were all seated at the table and learned the casserole wasn't done baking. So, back we went to the tree and the family room.
My second shocker came when Bob gave me a large cash gift. Deb gave me a monogrammed purse for my birthday. Bob had planned to give me a purse and shoes for Christmas. Yesterday, while Deb and I were out getting the oil changed on our car, I was saying I have a terrible time finding comfortable shoes. We stopped at a shoe store she thought could help me and sure enough, I ended up getting shoes. Bob had Deb wrap the cash for me. I was so shocked, I cried. So did he-and everyone else. A memory none of us will forget, regardless who caused it.
Now, the fun begins as I learn to use this laptop. They family's been trying to get me one for years and I've balked because I have a very hard time using the tracker. Mark gave me a few quick lessons. The rest will have to come one step at a time. Well, Deb did teach me how to set the sound where I want it. Even though it's the same program, I need to use the buttons on the keyboard instead of the icon on the screen. Never too old to learn. Stay tuned.
Again, a very Merry Christmas to you all.
We believe that memories hang on the mistakes that are made, not the perfections of the event. She's made a bunch, so we have many memories about today. She started by putting our granddaughter's stocking goodies in the wrong stocking and Ashley's stocking hung empty.
We have the tradition of passing gifts, one at a time and allowing the person to open it before going to the tree for more gifts. Mark was playing "elf" and having difficulty doing it. He was finding gifts for everyone but me. Finally, Deb picked up a package from the front of the tree and handed it to me. It was a disc for security! It was then decided that they would dig around at the back of the tree to find the computer the disc went into! I now have my laptop. It brought tears to my eyes to know the family was willing to spend that kind of money for me. My granddaughter and son have spent a lot of time setting it up for me.
Then I made the mistake of not putting a name tag on one of the gifts, so Mark opened it to find it was for my grandson. Oops.
Deb apparently set the wrong time on the timer for the Christmas breakfast casserole. It was obviously unfinished. We were laughing about having so many gifts to open, we had to take and break and come back to it. We were all seated at the table and learned the casserole wasn't done baking. So, back we went to the tree and the family room.
My second shocker came when Bob gave me a large cash gift. Deb gave me a monogrammed purse for my birthday. Bob had planned to give me a purse and shoes for Christmas. Yesterday, while Deb and I were out getting the oil changed on our car, I was saying I have a terrible time finding comfortable shoes. We stopped at a shoe store she thought could help me and sure enough, I ended up getting shoes. Bob had Deb wrap the cash for me. I was so shocked, I cried. So did he-and everyone else. A memory none of us will forget, regardless who caused it.
Now, the fun begins as I learn to use this laptop. They family's been trying to get me one for years and I've balked because I have a very hard time using the tracker. Mark gave me a few quick lessons. The rest will have to come one step at a time. Well, Deb did teach me how to set the sound where I want it. Even though it's the same program, I need to use the buttons on the keyboard instead of the icon on the screen. Never too old to learn. Stay tuned.
Again, a very Merry Christmas to you all.
Monday, December 21, 2015
Own it
In Jane Austen speak, today I'm two and seventy. And proud of it. God has given me 72 wonderful years and I say what's the sense of hiding it? I had an aunt that changed her birth certificate so often, her daughter said it was unreadable. Why? It doesn't change the facts. So, here I am. 72 years old. What's next, Lord?
This morning, we walked down by the river, hoping to see the sunrise. Unfortunately, it was too cloudy, but it was windy and very cool. More like Christmas weather. Loved it. Loved that gray sky. I loved it even more because it was my sweet husband's suggestion. He doesn't often make suggestions.
A friend played the cello during the singing in church today and we sang several carols. Loved that. I hear bass tones more than tenor and soprano, so the carols sounded better. Carols aren't played publicly that much anymore and it breaks my heart. I've told Wal-Mart that carols make me want to shop. If they want to be politically correct and skip them, that's their loss. Go ahead. Shoot themselves in the foot.
After church, there was a dinner and that was lovely. It's a great way to grow closer to those who attend the same church, have the same values, and care about one another. Our world is so busy, so wrapped up in activity and staying in contact electronically, it's nice to have warm chats with others face to face. It's old-fashioned and even young people are complaining about electronic contact missing something. It gives me hope that the old-fashioned way of face to face will someday be seen for the wonderful thing it is and others will return to it.
Facebook has posted many Happy Birthday wishes from friends and acquaintances all over the country. That's made me smile, too. Just hung up after talking to a friend in Mississippi who always calls me on my birthday and vice versa. One son called the day before and the other son called late in the evening. Icing on the cake. All in all, it's been a lovely day. Having my foot in two different worlds can be confusing and frustrating, but it can also be beautiful and memorable.
I have to say I've had a lovely life. I often think about my junior English class in high school. We were asked to write an essay about what we'd do if we knew we'd be blind in a year. I said I'd want to travel and see places that I could store in my memory. Well, 33 moves in 52 years fulfilled that dream.
I'm a people person. Love getting acquainted and learning about people. Needless to say, all those moves have made it possible to make many friends in many places. The memories I have of the wonderful people I've met would fill volumes.
Going to college was expected of me and my dream as well, but I didn't finish. Instead, I married the man of my dreams and did all that traveling. Our loving Lord opened the doors for me to finish at Moody Bible Institute after the boys were gone from home. God is so good. I'm reminded of a chorus we used to sing in the 70's "All I had to offer Him was brokenness and strife, but He made something beautiful of my life." It's so true. I've made so many mistakes, done so many stupid things, but He's taken it all and made it beautiful.
Those sons have become fine men who've made us so proud. And, they've given us four wonderful grandchildren and a great grandson. Can't ask for more than that. Dealing with boys at school who come from so much chaos in their lives, I can only say thank you for the way God has worked in our family.
Speaking of the boys I now work with, it's given me purpose and meaning. It looks like I'm one of those who's going to burn out instead of rust out. Thank you, Lord. While my memories are precious and the culture of today is going in a direction I don't understand or like, I still have work to do and if I can be relevant in this day and age, I'm grateful-just so I can do it without all the gadgets!
Although, I do have to say the gadgets have their advantages, too. It's been a lifelong dream to write and it's finally come to pass, thanks to the computer. Thanks to Facebook, Linked In, Pinterest, et al, I can stay in contact with friends and loved ones all over the world, meet and make new friends, and even learn more about the world we live in. I have to say that's one good thing about the gadgets I fight with that everyone else loves. I've been quite repetitive, haven't I? Typical of people my age. Live with it. I have to. 24/7. It's not that bad for you. Then too, your day is coming! I just got here first.
So, again, I ask, what's next, Lord? Stay tuned.
This morning, we walked down by the river, hoping to see the sunrise. Unfortunately, it was too cloudy, but it was windy and very cool. More like Christmas weather. Loved it. Loved that gray sky. I loved it even more because it was my sweet husband's suggestion. He doesn't often make suggestions.
A friend played the cello during the singing in church today and we sang several carols. Loved that. I hear bass tones more than tenor and soprano, so the carols sounded better. Carols aren't played publicly that much anymore and it breaks my heart. I've told Wal-Mart that carols make me want to shop. If they want to be politically correct and skip them, that's their loss. Go ahead. Shoot themselves in the foot.
After church, there was a dinner and that was lovely. It's a great way to grow closer to those who attend the same church, have the same values, and care about one another. Our world is so busy, so wrapped up in activity and staying in contact electronically, it's nice to have warm chats with others face to face. It's old-fashioned and even young people are complaining about electronic contact missing something. It gives me hope that the old-fashioned way of face to face will someday be seen for the wonderful thing it is and others will return to it.
Facebook has posted many Happy Birthday wishes from friends and acquaintances all over the country. That's made me smile, too. Just hung up after talking to a friend in Mississippi who always calls me on my birthday and vice versa. One son called the day before and the other son called late in the evening. Icing on the cake. All in all, it's been a lovely day. Having my foot in two different worlds can be confusing and frustrating, but it can also be beautiful and memorable.
I have to say I've had a lovely life. I often think about my junior English class in high school. We were asked to write an essay about what we'd do if we knew we'd be blind in a year. I said I'd want to travel and see places that I could store in my memory. Well, 33 moves in 52 years fulfilled that dream.
I'm a people person. Love getting acquainted and learning about people. Needless to say, all those moves have made it possible to make many friends in many places. The memories I have of the wonderful people I've met would fill volumes.
Going to college was expected of me and my dream as well, but I didn't finish. Instead, I married the man of my dreams and did all that traveling. Our loving Lord opened the doors for me to finish at Moody Bible Institute after the boys were gone from home. God is so good. I'm reminded of a chorus we used to sing in the 70's "All I had to offer Him was brokenness and strife, but He made something beautiful of my life." It's so true. I've made so many mistakes, done so many stupid things, but He's taken it all and made it beautiful.
Those sons have become fine men who've made us so proud. And, they've given us four wonderful grandchildren and a great grandson. Can't ask for more than that. Dealing with boys at school who come from so much chaos in their lives, I can only say thank you for the way God has worked in our family.
Speaking of the boys I now work with, it's given me purpose and meaning. It looks like I'm one of those who's going to burn out instead of rust out. Thank you, Lord. While my memories are precious and the culture of today is going in a direction I don't understand or like, I still have work to do and if I can be relevant in this day and age, I'm grateful-just so I can do it without all the gadgets!
Although, I do have to say the gadgets have their advantages, too. It's been a lifelong dream to write and it's finally come to pass, thanks to the computer. Thanks to Facebook, Linked In, Pinterest, et al, I can stay in contact with friends and loved ones all over the world, meet and make new friends, and even learn more about the world we live in. I have to say that's one good thing about the gadgets I fight with that everyone else loves. I've been quite repetitive, haven't I? Typical of people my age. Live with it. I have to. 24/7. It's not that bad for you. Then too, your day is coming! I just got here first.
So, again, I ask, what's next, Lord? Stay tuned.
Saturday, December 19, 2015
Finding truth
Sometimes I find truth in the most unusual ways. Thursday, I was working with a young student who has a great deal of trouble with comprehension and retention. At Shiloh, boys are required to memorize Scripture, which means a need for retention. Since the school uses the King James Version, sometimes the ability to comprehend is a little difficult, so I try to explain it in modern, age appropriate terminology.
Since I've been attending church, Sunday School, Vacation Bible School, and several Bible colleges all my life, Scripture is easier for me to understand than most of the boys Or is it? Not only am I a lot older, but most of them have had little to no Biblical training. It's often been preached to me the necessity of meditation on Scripture. Yes, I read my Bible daily. Yes, I get a great deal from it. However, working with a young boy who hasn't had my training taught me something new. Well, validated other verses of Scripture is closer to the truth.
The passage the boys had to learn for the month of December was Matthew 1:18-23. Makes sense to learn the passage about the birth of Jesus. How many times have I read that passage, memorized that passage, heard Christmas carols, watched movies about it, or heard it preached? Dozens? Hundreds? Many, many, to be sure.
And yet, as I worked with this boy who was having such difficulty learning that passage that is so familiar to me, I learned something, too. I have long known that Jesus said He is the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through Him. (John 14:6) Known it, studied it, believed it, experienced it. It always thrills me to find other passages of Scripture that validates one I've known and believed for many years.
Going back to working with the boys, I would have the young man quote a small phrase over and over again until he knew it. Or so I thought. When I was sure he knew that phrase perfectly, I'd have him quote another phrase until I was confident he knew that one. Then, I'd have him put the two together. That's how I learned two chapters in Romans-word perfect-for a class at Moody when I was 45 years old.
The trouble is, it wasn't working with my charge, so I'd try to explain it in language appropriate for a nine year old. For example, every time he's quote verse 19, he'd leave out the word "not." That's a very important word in that phrase. Joseph was not willing to make Mary a public example. He'd leave it out every time he tried to quote that phrase. That changes the meaning entirely.
But, it was verse 21 that was the eye opener for me. ..."thou shalt call His name JESUS for He shall save HIS people from their sins. Such a little insignificant word that I'd been passing over my entire life. Only HIS people will be saved from their sins. Acts 4:12 says there is no other name under heaven given among men by which we must be saved. It gave me the opportunity to share truth with this boy that Jesus is the ONLY way to heaven, the ONLY way to be saved from our sins.
I've just begun Billy Graham's book Where I AM. In it, he quotes Zig Zigler saying the good news is that we can do nothing bad enough to keep us out of heaven. On the other hand the bad news we can do nothing good enough to keep us out of hell. A pastor once said there'd be a lot of surprised people in heaven and and lot of surprised people in hell.
Matthew 1:21 showed me yet again that only those who come to Jesus will be saved from their sins. Only HIS people will be saved. There are many, many other passages that say the same thing, but it was that one little word that affected me so powerfully.
Since I've been attending church, Sunday School, Vacation Bible School, and several Bible colleges all my life, Scripture is easier for me to understand than most of the boys Or is it? Not only am I a lot older, but most of them have had little to no Biblical training. It's often been preached to me the necessity of meditation on Scripture. Yes, I read my Bible daily. Yes, I get a great deal from it. However, working with a young boy who hasn't had my training taught me something new. Well, validated other verses of Scripture is closer to the truth.
The passage the boys had to learn for the month of December was Matthew 1:18-23. Makes sense to learn the passage about the birth of Jesus. How many times have I read that passage, memorized that passage, heard Christmas carols, watched movies about it, or heard it preached? Dozens? Hundreds? Many, many, to be sure.
And yet, as I worked with this boy who was having such difficulty learning that passage that is so familiar to me, I learned something, too. I have long known that Jesus said He is the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through Him. (John 14:6) Known it, studied it, believed it, experienced it. It always thrills me to find other passages of Scripture that validates one I've known and believed for many years.
Going back to working with the boys, I would have the young man quote a small phrase over and over again until he knew it. Or so I thought. When I was sure he knew that phrase perfectly, I'd have him quote another phrase until I was confident he knew that one. Then, I'd have him put the two together. That's how I learned two chapters in Romans-word perfect-for a class at Moody when I was 45 years old.
The trouble is, it wasn't working with my charge, so I'd try to explain it in language appropriate for a nine year old. For example, every time he's quote verse 19, he'd leave out the word "not." That's a very important word in that phrase. Joseph was not willing to make Mary a public example. He'd leave it out every time he tried to quote that phrase. That changes the meaning entirely.
But, it was verse 21 that was the eye opener for me. ..."thou shalt call His name JESUS for He shall save HIS people from their sins. Such a little insignificant word that I'd been passing over my entire life. Only HIS people will be saved from their sins. Acts 4:12 says there is no other name under heaven given among men by which we must be saved. It gave me the opportunity to share truth with this boy that Jesus is the ONLY way to heaven, the ONLY way to be saved from our sins.
I've just begun Billy Graham's book Where I AM. In it, he quotes Zig Zigler saying the good news is that we can do nothing bad enough to keep us out of heaven. On the other hand the bad news we can do nothing good enough to keep us out of hell. A pastor once said there'd be a lot of surprised people in heaven and and lot of surprised people in hell.
Matthew 1:21 showed me yet again that only those who come to Jesus will be saved from their sins. Only HIS people will be saved. There are many, many other passages that say the same thing, but it was that one little word that affected me so powerfully.
Friday, December 11, 2015
Our gentle, loving God
I'm so grateful God is loving and gentle when He corrects me. I'm sure He knows how I get my back up when people try to advise me without my asking. They're 99.9% wrong and 100% meddling. On the other hand, the Lord often uses examples from the lives of others to show me I'm no different. Life applications I call it. That's one of the myriad of reasons I wrote my book and have others about ready to go.
I have no right to judge other people and don't appreciate their judging me. However, if I can use stories to prove my point, perhaps they'll understand and "get it."
Yesterday, I told Bob I was giving up the icicle lights I bought 14 years ago and had attempted to put up on the condo porch only a couple of times. His thank you was so sincere and so full of relief, I realized how selfish I was being, asking an 80 year old man to climb a ladder and put up lights strangers driving by could enjoy for a week. (We're going to our son's for Christmas and the lights will be out.) Adding insult to injury, Bob is not really a celebration kind of guy. One of the first things he told me when we were dating is that Christmas was just another day in the week when he was growing up. That statement was so foreign to me, I was just sure he'd be dazzled and change his opinion once he saw how Christmas was really done-my way, of course.
Didn't happen. He's never really complained, but I get the impression he kind of grits his teeth, hoping I'll get done shopping for others before we go completely bankrupt. Childhood abject poverty left deep scars I've so often selfishly ignored. I'm trying to express my love to others and he's paying for it. Not good or right. He hates glitter, so I make the effort to please him by vacuuming every day. There just aren't any decorations in this day and age that don't have glitter. Even Christmas cards glitter.
Spray on snow. Well, that's an absolute no-no. Has been for 47 years. He still mentions it on occasion. (Nagging, I think it's called, but at least he does it in a joking way.) I was pregnant with our second son 47 years ago and pregnancy, for me, was difficult. Spray on snow was cheap-but oh, so hard to get off after Christmas. It took months and Bob growled and groused about it the whole time. He still talks about it when I say something about decorating for Christmas. Lesson learned.
Last night, while I was watching TV, I noticed my vision was a little blurred. It's happened before. Don't know why, but it doesn't usually last long. It made me remember three people and reminded me that I need to make some changes in my diet. I've been gaining and losing weight since I was 13 and would dearly love to get off this ridiculous whatever you want to call it. My daughter-in-law is concerned about my son's health. He's diabetic and recently, his vision began to blur. It scared him and put him back on eating right. Diabetes affects vision and he knows it. I told my daughter-in-law about the man on Facebook who is diabetic.
When he first started posting, he mentioned he was diabetic and the doctor said if he didn't change his ways, he would die. That scared him enough to change his diet. For months, he posted his weight loss and it was phenomenal. Then, a few weeks ago, his post was full of typos. He posted that suddenly his vision was black. Nothing but black. Yep, he's now blind.
I've known about him and his situation for months, but it didn't affect me. Until last night. My blurred vision, my son's blurred vision and the Facebook posting of sudden blindness. It also brought to mind one of our students who's no longer with us. I dearly love that boy, but he was a handful. One of the rules of Shiloh is that a boy behaves, and if he doesn't, he has to leave. This boy had been warned repeatedly. I have to say our culture has changed so dramatically and it's causing our boys to act out in violent ways. He was one of those boys.
In the classroom one day, he was the only one there and he was sobbing violently. The others were in with the pastor. I'd never seen him that boy so emotionally distraught. I've seen boys cry, even caused some of them to cry. (Sometimes, they're afraid they can't do what they need to do to complete the assignment. They'll get teary eyed, expecting me to pity them. I ignore it and we always get the assignment done.) Ever so gently, the Lord reminded me that my yo-yo behavior with food is no different than the boy's being good and bad. I was playing the same game with God. The boy was forced to leave the school and may face military school, especially if again is expelled from public school. That's how we get a lot of our boys. If I continue to binge and diet, I could face diabetes and worse.
If I might digress for a moment, I would love to learn the lesson that intrinsic motivation is so superior to extrinsic. Extrinsic motivation is often from fear and seldom is lasting. Intrinsic motivation, on the other hand, is lasting and isn't from fear. God's Word says perfect love casts out fear. Why can't I understand that God is not trying to scare me into eating properly? He's telling me He loves me so much, He doesn't want me to destroy myself-His creation of love.
Finally, this morning, we were having our typical love fest with our dog Sheila. She loves it when Bob puts her on the bed between us and we lavish love on her and she us. Her little tail beats strong and steady to our petting her. She loves it when we rub her chest. If I stop, she paws me, letting me know to do more. My hand is at an awkward angle and it tires easily. It's reminds me of the boys who complain that typing or writing in cursive tires their hands. Blithely, I tell them they'll get used to it. They're learning something for their good.
So, how does that compute with my dog's demands on my hand and time? It reminds me that I'm giving of myself unselfishly. If you've read my book, you know that love is spelled s-a-c-r-i-f-i-c-e. That's how the Lord showed His love for mankind. He demonstrated His love for us in that while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.
Therefore, Lord, let me learn intrinsic motivation. Let me learn that proper eating is Your expression of love for me. You want me to be healthy. You want me to focus on You-the Lover of my soul. You want me to give up the idol of food. Stay tuned.
I have no right to judge other people and don't appreciate their judging me. However, if I can use stories to prove my point, perhaps they'll understand and "get it."
Yesterday, I told Bob I was giving up the icicle lights I bought 14 years ago and had attempted to put up on the condo porch only a couple of times. His thank you was so sincere and so full of relief, I realized how selfish I was being, asking an 80 year old man to climb a ladder and put up lights strangers driving by could enjoy for a week. (We're going to our son's for Christmas and the lights will be out.) Adding insult to injury, Bob is not really a celebration kind of guy. One of the first things he told me when we were dating is that Christmas was just another day in the week when he was growing up. That statement was so foreign to me, I was just sure he'd be dazzled and change his opinion once he saw how Christmas was really done-my way, of course.
Didn't happen. He's never really complained, but I get the impression he kind of grits his teeth, hoping I'll get done shopping for others before we go completely bankrupt. Childhood abject poverty left deep scars I've so often selfishly ignored. I'm trying to express my love to others and he's paying for it. Not good or right. He hates glitter, so I make the effort to please him by vacuuming every day. There just aren't any decorations in this day and age that don't have glitter. Even Christmas cards glitter.
Spray on snow. Well, that's an absolute no-no. Has been for 47 years. He still mentions it on occasion. (Nagging, I think it's called, but at least he does it in a joking way.) I was pregnant with our second son 47 years ago and pregnancy, for me, was difficult. Spray on snow was cheap-but oh, so hard to get off after Christmas. It took months and Bob growled and groused about it the whole time. He still talks about it when I say something about decorating for Christmas. Lesson learned.
Last night, while I was watching TV, I noticed my vision was a little blurred. It's happened before. Don't know why, but it doesn't usually last long. It made me remember three people and reminded me that I need to make some changes in my diet. I've been gaining and losing weight since I was 13 and would dearly love to get off this ridiculous whatever you want to call it. My daughter-in-law is concerned about my son's health. He's diabetic and recently, his vision began to blur. It scared him and put him back on eating right. Diabetes affects vision and he knows it. I told my daughter-in-law about the man on Facebook who is diabetic.
When he first started posting, he mentioned he was diabetic and the doctor said if he didn't change his ways, he would die. That scared him enough to change his diet. For months, he posted his weight loss and it was phenomenal. Then, a few weeks ago, his post was full of typos. He posted that suddenly his vision was black. Nothing but black. Yep, he's now blind.
I've known about him and his situation for months, but it didn't affect me. Until last night. My blurred vision, my son's blurred vision and the Facebook posting of sudden blindness. It also brought to mind one of our students who's no longer with us. I dearly love that boy, but he was a handful. One of the rules of Shiloh is that a boy behaves, and if he doesn't, he has to leave. This boy had been warned repeatedly. I have to say our culture has changed so dramatically and it's causing our boys to act out in violent ways. He was one of those boys.
In the classroom one day, he was the only one there and he was sobbing violently. The others were in with the pastor. I'd never seen him that boy so emotionally distraught. I've seen boys cry, even caused some of them to cry. (Sometimes, they're afraid they can't do what they need to do to complete the assignment. They'll get teary eyed, expecting me to pity them. I ignore it and we always get the assignment done.) Ever so gently, the Lord reminded me that my yo-yo behavior with food is no different than the boy's being good and bad. I was playing the same game with God. The boy was forced to leave the school and may face military school, especially if again is expelled from public school. That's how we get a lot of our boys. If I continue to binge and diet, I could face diabetes and worse.
If I might digress for a moment, I would love to learn the lesson that intrinsic motivation is so superior to extrinsic. Extrinsic motivation is often from fear and seldom is lasting. Intrinsic motivation, on the other hand, is lasting and isn't from fear. God's Word says perfect love casts out fear. Why can't I understand that God is not trying to scare me into eating properly? He's telling me He loves me so much, He doesn't want me to destroy myself-His creation of love.
Finally, this morning, we were having our typical love fest with our dog Sheila. She loves it when Bob puts her on the bed between us and we lavish love on her and she us. Her little tail beats strong and steady to our petting her. She loves it when we rub her chest. If I stop, she paws me, letting me know to do more. My hand is at an awkward angle and it tires easily. It's reminds me of the boys who complain that typing or writing in cursive tires their hands. Blithely, I tell them they'll get used to it. They're learning something for their good.
So, how does that compute with my dog's demands on my hand and time? It reminds me that I'm giving of myself unselfishly. If you've read my book, you know that love is spelled s-a-c-r-i-f-i-c-e. That's how the Lord showed His love for mankind. He demonstrated His love for us in that while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.
Therefore, Lord, let me learn intrinsic motivation. Let me learn that proper eating is Your expression of love for me. You want me to be healthy. You want me to focus on You-the Lover of my soul. You want me to give up the idol of food. Stay tuned.
Wednesday, December 9, 2015
Christmas Angel
Bob and I will celebrate our 52nd wedding anniversary on the 23rd of this month. The Christmas angel that topped our tree is 50 this year. Why is that significant? I'm getting to it. The first Christmas we were married, we spent with Bob's parents. Yes, I spent my honeymoon with my in-laws! They worked and both retired early when they came home from work, so we really had the place to ourselves. Anyway, no Christmas decorations were needed.
The next year, Bob was in Germany, and I was at home with my parents, waiting for orders so our son and I could join him. No decorations for the tree needed that year, either.
Therefore, the first tree we decorated as a family is while we were in Germany. Just about all the decorations were German in nature. Mushrooms with red caps, dotted in white. They do those for good luck. They also light real candles on the tree on Christmas Eve, but we never had that kind of nerve. We bought all the decorations and lights we could afford. For the rest of the tree, we covered it in box after box of icicles. Remember those days? Almost all of those decorations and lights are gone now. Traveling is hard on anything, especially if it's of a delicate nature, like glass ornaments.
We do, however, have one ornament left from Germany. You guessed it. The Christmas angel on the top of the tree. She's almost like a miracle angel. Like I said, ornaments don't survive moves very well. The miracle of her is not only did she survive the move from Muschenheim to Butzbach, but she made it to Ft. Bliss, Texas. Van Horn Park to Leslie Ross Road. Not one, but two moves on Ft. Bliss. Then, it was off to Ft. Huachuca, Arizona.
Probably one reason I think of the angel as a miracle is that I took up ceramics in Ft. Huachuca. Unpacking after the move from there to New Jersey found my angel at the bottom of the box that contained about twodozen jars of ceramic paint! She was unharmed! Then, it was Aurora, Colorado. The driver got drunk and lost the truck on that move. When I told them a very beat up rocking chair was not mine, one man said, "It is now!"
A year later, we were on our way to Pottstown, Pa. Ten months later, we were on our way back to Ft. Huachuca. That move was especially rough. I complained repeatedly that the movers left things they promised faithfully to come back and get. When they finally decided I was married to some big wig colonel and would get them in trouble if they didn't come get the things that wouldn't fit on the truck, they sent two fellows who finally came out of a local bar with a bag of peanuts and a strange sense of humor. Complaints of broken items were met with ridicule. I told the office that I would never use them again. If they came to my door, I would meet them with a broom. The official took me seriously and made other arrangements.
The move to San Antonio was short and the furnishings were left in storage until the move to Honolulu. We had to separate our things into two different shipments on that one because, at that time, the military furnished our units. Hence, what things they didn't furnish, such as Christmas ornaments, were shipped and everything else stayed in Arizona.
Four years later, we were on our way to Rolla, Missouri for Bob's final year in the military and almost 6 years as a civilian before he took a new job and we moved to Dalton, Georgia. Things didn't work out job wise, and Bob was transferred to Smithville, Tennessee.
It was there the real reason I consider the angel a miracle came to light. By now, her silk skirt was looking a little bedraggled, as did her foil underskirt and puffy sleeves. The florist happened to know someone in town who refurbished dolls. When I handed him the angel, he took her in his hands as gently as if she were a new born baby. I was amazed at the way he handled her. But it was his comment that bowled me over. "She's wax."
WAX!!! She had been halfway around the world on several occasions and even ended up under 20+ jars of ceramic paint and she hadn't a scratch or break on her! The first thing I did was buy a glass dome to put her under and make every attempt to keep her safer than she'd been before.
Four more moves brought another severe test for her. In 2004, we endured three hurricanes in as many weeks. Frances, Ivan, and Jeanne. We were without power for nine days after Frances hit. There she stood on the counter in her glass dome, braving heat and humidity with nary a breeze and nary a melt! Ivan was mostly rain, but Jeanne was the worst as far as wind. We only lost power four days with Jeanne, but again, no electricity and no melting.
I've received or purchased several other angels over the past 50 years, but she's truly my miracle Christmas angel.
The next year, Bob was in Germany, and I was at home with my parents, waiting for orders so our son and I could join him. No decorations for the tree needed that year, either.
Therefore, the first tree we decorated as a family is while we were in Germany. Just about all the decorations were German in nature. Mushrooms with red caps, dotted in white. They do those for good luck. They also light real candles on the tree on Christmas Eve, but we never had that kind of nerve. We bought all the decorations and lights we could afford. For the rest of the tree, we covered it in box after box of icicles. Remember those days? Almost all of those decorations and lights are gone now. Traveling is hard on anything, especially if it's of a delicate nature, like glass ornaments.
We do, however, have one ornament left from Germany. You guessed it. The Christmas angel on the top of the tree. She's almost like a miracle angel. Like I said, ornaments don't survive moves very well. The miracle of her is not only did she survive the move from Muschenheim to Butzbach, but she made it to Ft. Bliss, Texas. Van Horn Park to Leslie Ross Road. Not one, but two moves on Ft. Bliss. Then, it was off to Ft. Huachuca, Arizona.
Probably one reason I think of the angel as a miracle is that I took up ceramics in Ft. Huachuca. Unpacking after the move from there to New Jersey found my angel at the bottom of the box that contained about twodozen jars of ceramic paint! She was unharmed! Then, it was Aurora, Colorado. The driver got drunk and lost the truck on that move. When I told them a very beat up rocking chair was not mine, one man said, "It is now!"
A year later, we were on our way to Pottstown, Pa. Ten months later, we were on our way back to Ft. Huachuca. That move was especially rough. I complained repeatedly that the movers left things they promised faithfully to come back and get. When they finally decided I was married to some big wig colonel and would get them in trouble if they didn't come get the things that wouldn't fit on the truck, they sent two fellows who finally came out of a local bar with a bag of peanuts and a strange sense of humor. Complaints of broken items were met with ridicule. I told the office that I would never use them again. If they came to my door, I would meet them with a broom. The official took me seriously and made other arrangements.
The move to San Antonio was short and the furnishings were left in storage until the move to Honolulu. We had to separate our things into two different shipments on that one because, at that time, the military furnished our units. Hence, what things they didn't furnish, such as Christmas ornaments, were shipped and everything else stayed in Arizona.
Four years later, we were on our way to Rolla, Missouri for Bob's final year in the military and almost 6 years as a civilian before he took a new job and we moved to Dalton, Georgia. Things didn't work out job wise, and Bob was transferred to Smithville, Tennessee.
It was there the real reason I consider the angel a miracle came to light. By now, her silk skirt was looking a little bedraggled, as did her foil underskirt and puffy sleeves. The florist happened to know someone in town who refurbished dolls. When I handed him the angel, he took her in his hands as gently as if she were a new born baby. I was amazed at the way he handled her. But it was his comment that bowled me over. "She's wax."
WAX!!! She had been halfway around the world on several occasions and even ended up under 20+ jars of ceramic paint and she hadn't a scratch or break on her! The first thing I did was buy a glass dome to put her under and make every attempt to keep her safer than she'd been before.
Four more moves brought another severe test for her. In 2004, we endured three hurricanes in as many weeks. Frances, Ivan, and Jeanne. We were without power for nine days after Frances hit. There she stood on the counter in her glass dome, braving heat and humidity with nary a breeze and nary a melt! Ivan was mostly rain, but Jeanne was the worst as far as wind. We only lost power four days with Jeanne, but again, no electricity and no melting.
I've received or purchased several other angels over the past 50 years, but she's truly my miracle Christmas angel.
Monday, December 7, 2015
America's Team
I watched most of the Steeler's game last night and felt like they were at last showing the gumption they've been know for. To tell you the truth, I haven't watched them much since Terry Bradshaw left in 81 or 82. Watching the game brought back a lot of memories and made some new ones as well.
We were in San Antonio one year when they played and beat Dallas in the Super Bowl. Several of my co-workers wanted me to bet. I refused, saying God wouldn't let me bet and if I did, the Steeler's would lose. At that time, Dallas was known and "America's team." That rankled a little. I believed then and do even more so now that Pittsburgh is America's Team. More about that in a bit.
The second time Pittsburgh played Dallas in the Super Bowl, we were living in Honolulu. Due to the time change, the game came on during our church service. Some of the chaplain's assistants would slip out during church, run across the street and ask someone what the score was. They'd return with the information and whisper it to someone sitting in the back pew. The news would spread like wildfire through the church. Chaplain Schaffer was so upset, as he shook hands with everyone leaving the chapel that day, he'd mutter something about the Dallas Steelers and the Pittsburgh Cowboys. Pittsburgh won that day, too.
Still, Dallas was known as America's Team. Roger Stabaugh (sp?) was the quarterback and well respected. He was a graduate of the Naval Academy before he played football, but whether he actually served in combat is unknown. However, Pittsburgh has at least two team members who served. Rocky Bliar served during Viet Nam and was so seriously wounded, he was told he'd never walk again. Not only did he walk again, he came all the way back to play for the Steelers. I remember after he retired, his replacement allowed Bradshaw to be sacked. Bradshaw was one unhappy camper. I can sometimes read lips and what Bradshaw said to the guy was not something I would repeat. The announcers said that Rocky would NEVER have allowed that to happen.
In Rolla, Missouri, we had a member of our church that was trying out for another pro team. He told us that everyone who made the team had to go through the whole process every year. No one automatically returned. The young rookies who were hungry would do their best to replace the vets. Rocky had to fight his way through that, even as a wounded vet and he did it. My hat's off to him.
I remember when we were moving from Arizona to New Jersey. Two station wagons full of screaming men and waving signs passed us somewhere in Ohio between Columbus and Zanesville. I couldn't believe it. They were saying the Steelers won! I told Bob the Steelers hadn't won since Washington was President. When we arrived home, the first thing I did was ask Mom about it. She assured me the Steelers were winners, with two quarterbacks, both named Terry. Terry Hanratty didn't stay much longer, but Bradshaw did and guided them to 4 Super Bowls.
Now, we live in Florida and I'm amazed at the number of Steeler fans. We have so many neighbors from Long Island, New York, I've often joked that we live in Southern New York. There's not nearly as many fans for any other team as there are the Steelers. One reason I say they're America's Team.
Then, last night, I learned there is another combat veteran on the team. Villeneau (sp?) That's another reason why I say the Steeler's are America's Team. Pittsburgh is an old city that has seen a melting pot of ownership. Indian names are prominent throughout the area, as are French names. The French owned the area before the English. Many people came from Europe and worked the coal mines and steel mills, meaning there are areas that are German, Jewish, Italian, Eastern European, and many others. But, it's the fact that this blue collar city has reared it's children to love their country enough to serve it in times of war that makes me so proud of my heritage and the Steeler's.
It's Christmas time and the catalogs are coming thick and fast. Without exception, every one that sells pro football memorabilia, uses the Steelers as their examples of what's for sale. They're America's Team all right.
Last night, they did their fans proud. They played brilliantly. And they had fun. Who will ever forget the fellow trying to "stick" the ball to the goalpost and scaring the guard half out of her wits when he grabbed her jacket before falling to the ground? He was all twinkling eyes and huge grin. Good for him. I'm only sorry I was flipping channels when ads came on and didn't get to see him to his full punt return to touchdown. I've never seen one and missed it last night. I just caught the last 10 yards.
Will they be able to earn a wild card spot? Who knows? Even if they don't, they're still great. Of course, when I'm around my granddaughter, I have to be careful what I say. She's a Jaguars fan. Good for her. She's lived most of her life in Jacksonville and has every reason to be loyal to her team. But, as many moves as we've made, it's still the Steelers for me.
We were in San Antonio one year when they played and beat Dallas in the Super Bowl. Several of my co-workers wanted me to bet. I refused, saying God wouldn't let me bet and if I did, the Steeler's would lose. At that time, Dallas was known and "America's team." That rankled a little. I believed then and do even more so now that Pittsburgh is America's Team. More about that in a bit.
The second time Pittsburgh played Dallas in the Super Bowl, we were living in Honolulu. Due to the time change, the game came on during our church service. Some of the chaplain's assistants would slip out during church, run across the street and ask someone what the score was. They'd return with the information and whisper it to someone sitting in the back pew. The news would spread like wildfire through the church. Chaplain Schaffer was so upset, as he shook hands with everyone leaving the chapel that day, he'd mutter something about the Dallas Steelers and the Pittsburgh Cowboys. Pittsburgh won that day, too.
Still, Dallas was known as America's Team. Roger Stabaugh (sp?) was the quarterback and well respected. He was a graduate of the Naval Academy before he played football, but whether he actually served in combat is unknown. However, Pittsburgh has at least two team members who served. Rocky Bliar served during Viet Nam and was so seriously wounded, he was told he'd never walk again. Not only did he walk again, he came all the way back to play for the Steelers. I remember after he retired, his replacement allowed Bradshaw to be sacked. Bradshaw was one unhappy camper. I can sometimes read lips and what Bradshaw said to the guy was not something I would repeat. The announcers said that Rocky would NEVER have allowed that to happen.
In Rolla, Missouri, we had a member of our church that was trying out for another pro team. He told us that everyone who made the team had to go through the whole process every year. No one automatically returned. The young rookies who were hungry would do their best to replace the vets. Rocky had to fight his way through that, even as a wounded vet and he did it. My hat's off to him.
I remember when we were moving from Arizona to New Jersey. Two station wagons full of screaming men and waving signs passed us somewhere in Ohio between Columbus and Zanesville. I couldn't believe it. They were saying the Steelers won! I told Bob the Steelers hadn't won since Washington was President. When we arrived home, the first thing I did was ask Mom about it. She assured me the Steelers were winners, with two quarterbacks, both named Terry. Terry Hanratty didn't stay much longer, but Bradshaw did and guided them to 4 Super Bowls.
Now, we live in Florida and I'm amazed at the number of Steeler fans. We have so many neighbors from Long Island, New York, I've often joked that we live in Southern New York. There's not nearly as many fans for any other team as there are the Steelers. One reason I say they're America's Team.
Then, last night, I learned there is another combat veteran on the team. Villeneau (sp?) That's another reason why I say the Steeler's are America's Team. Pittsburgh is an old city that has seen a melting pot of ownership. Indian names are prominent throughout the area, as are French names. The French owned the area before the English. Many people came from Europe and worked the coal mines and steel mills, meaning there are areas that are German, Jewish, Italian, Eastern European, and many others. But, it's the fact that this blue collar city has reared it's children to love their country enough to serve it in times of war that makes me so proud of my heritage and the Steeler's.
It's Christmas time and the catalogs are coming thick and fast. Without exception, every one that sells pro football memorabilia, uses the Steelers as their examples of what's for sale. They're America's Team all right.
Last night, they did their fans proud. They played brilliantly. And they had fun. Who will ever forget the fellow trying to "stick" the ball to the goalpost and scaring the guard half out of her wits when he grabbed her jacket before falling to the ground? He was all twinkling eyes and huge grin. Good for him. I'm only sorry I was flipping channels when ads came on and didn't get to see him to his full punt return to touchdown. I've never seen one and missed it last night. I just caught the last 10 yards.
Will they be able to earn a wild card spot? Who knows? Even if they don't, they're still great. Of course, when I'm around my granddaughter, I have to be careful what I say. She's a Jaguars fan. Good for her. She's lived most of her life in Jacksonville and has every reason to be loyal to her team. But, as many moves as we've made, it's still the Steelers for me.
Friday, December 4, 2015
Precious Memory
In chapel ysterday morning, we watched more of a video about the children of WWII vets. One son took his son to Iwo Jima to help the boy understand the sacrifice his grandfather made on his behalf.
It brought back a memory of my own. He was my great uncle, but he reared my mother as his own daughter because my grandmother died when Mom was seven years old. If you've read my book, you'll see the story in there. No, I was not being imaginative, it actually happened.
We called him "Pop." It's gratifying to have such a wonderful memory of a man who believed deeply in God and who lived his life to honor God. My granddaughter seems to long for the times I grew up in. Her comparison with today's world always leaves her longing for more honest times. Those days were more honest, more simple, more trustworthy, more noble.....you get the picture. I just wish there were some way my granddaughter could do more than long for days like that.
On the day I remember so vividly, it's like it happened yesterday. My cousin and I were playing some game when we come into the dining room and spotted Pop at his usual spot, kneeling in front of his rocking chair, praying. How that man prayed. Even though I was only nine and my cousin four, I still remember how he would sit in the rocker and read his Bible in a hoarse whisper. Then, he'd kneel in front of his rocker and pray in that same hoarse whisper. No matter what activity swirled throughout the rest of that large, old farmhouse, Pop would read his Bible and pray first thing every morning. I firmly believe that's why I grew up in a sweeter, simpler, nobler, safer, more honest, more trustworthy time. I seriously doubt Pop was the only man in America praying like that.
Hey, New York newspaper, maybe God isn't fixing this because America has stopped praying. Or as James says, maybe we Americans are praying for the wrong things and the wrong reasons. Do a paradigm shift in your thinking. Couldn't hurt and it might help. But, I digress.
Often, Pop would lift his hand and face toward heaven as he prayed, emphasizing his adoration or supplication. Whichever it was, I do not know. When Pop prayed, we left him alone to be with the Lord as a matter of respect.
Except my four year old cousin, Pop's only grandson. That mischievous four year old turned to me and said, "Let's get a horsey ride on Grandpa!"
"No! He's praying!" was my horrified response.
"He won't care. I do it all the time," came his reply as he left me to watch in shock. He hopped his grandpa's back, riding him with all the glee and fervor only a rambunctious four old could muster.
Pop never acknowledges his grandson in anyway. He continued to pray with a fervor that matched his grandson's. He was no different that any other day I witnessed his time of prayer. My cousin actually tired before Pop did. We trailed off to other adventures while Pop remained on his knees. Thanks, Pop you taught me a lot.
It brought back a memory of my own. He was my great uncle, but he reared my mother as his own daughter because my grandmother died when Mom was seven years old. If you've read my book, you'll see the story in there. No, I was not being imaginative, it actually happened.
We called him "Pop." It's gratifying to have such a wonderful memory of a man who believed deeply in God and who lived his life to honor God. My granddaughter seems to long for the times I grew up in. Her comparison with today's world always leaves her longing for more honest times. Those days were more honest, more simple, more trustworthy, more noble.....you get the picture. I just wish there were some way my granddaughter could do more than long for days like that.
On the day I remember so vividly, it's like it happened yesterday. My cousin and I were playing some game when we come into the dining room and spotted Pop at his usual spot, kneeling in front of his rocking chair, praying. How that man prayed. Even though I was only nine and my cousin four, I still remember how he would sit in the rocker and read his Bible in a hoarse whisper. Then, he'd kneel in front of his rocker and pray in that same hoarse whisper. No matter what activity swirled throughout the rest of that large, old farmhouse, Pop would read his Bible and pray first thing every morning. I firmly believe that's why I grew up in a sweeter, simpler, nobler, safer, more honest, more trustworthy time. I seriously doubt Pop was the only man in America praying like that.
Hey, New York newspaper, maybe God isn't fixing this because America has stopped praying. Or as James says, maybe we Americans are praying for the wrong things and the wrong reasons. Do a paradigm shift in your thinking. Couldn't hurt and it might help. But, I digress.
Often, Pop would lift his hand and face toward heaven as he prayed, emphasizing his adoration or supplication. Whichever it was, I do not know. When Pop prayed, we left him alone to be with the Lord as a matter of respect.
Except my four year old cousin, Pop's only grandson. That mischievous four year old turned to me and said, "Let's get a horsey ride on Grandpa!"
"No! He's praying!" was my horrified response.
"He won't care. I do it all the time," came his reply as he left me to watch in shock. He hopped his grandpa's back, riding him with all the glee and fervor only a rambunctious four old could muster.
Pop never acknowledges his grandson in anyway. He continued to pray with a fervor that matched his grandson's. He was no different that any other day I witnessed his time of prayer. My cousin actually tired before Pop did. We trailed off to other adventures while Pop remained on his knees. Thanks, Pop you taught me a lot.
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