We're Of to California!

“Sis, help your mom around here today.  She’s teary this morning so that means a trip to California to see your Grandma.  I’ll be back about 5:00.  If you all can get things together, we’ll try to leave tomorrow.”

About every three years, my Mother would get lonesome for her Mother and we’d make the long trek to California in the middle of summer.  This particular summer was my 13^th year.  Having to travel with a teenager, who really would rather have stayed home with her friends, wasn’t a walk in the park for my parents.

We had a new Studebaker but it had no air conditioning.  Anyone who has made the trip across the desert to California knows that doesn’t make for a very delightful trip.  Mother always packed things to eat along the way because my Daddy didn’t like to stop unnecessarily.  And, although we would stop the first night about midnight at a motel in Albuquerque , it seemed we hardly got stretched out straight in the bed before I would hear my Daddy getting up.

“Time to rise and shine. It’s 3:30,” he’d say, “Time’s a wastin’ and we need to get on our way.   More time we spend on the road; less time you get to spend with your folks in California.”

 Daddy would go pay the bill and get his thermos filled with coffee while we packed up our things and off we would go.

“Sis, you want a banana?” Mother would ask. I was stretched out in the back seat; my pillow under my head catchin’ a few Z’s that I didn’t get the night before.

“Well, how about an orange?  Would you like an orange?  They’re good for you. When we get to California, you can pick oranges right off the tree.  Won’t that be fun?”

“Yea, sure thing, Mother and no, I don’t want an orange.” And, I would turn over hoping there were no more offers.

Somewhere in the early afternoon, Daddy decided to stop for gas.  I discovered if you needed a bathroom break, you took it while he was gassing up the car or we were stopped at a stoplight or you didn’t get one.

“While you’re getting some gas, can I run across the highway to that ice cream place and get an ice cream cone?” I ask my Daddy as he started to get out of the car.

“If you’ll make it snappy,”he replied.

So, I jerked open the back door and hopped out onto the pavement barefooted.  Little did I realize it was 114 degrees and the pavement would fry and egg in 15 seconds.  I jumped back in the car yelling my feet were scarred forever and why didn’t someone tell me it was that hot out there? The little water cooler we had in the car didn’t keep it very cool but it certainly was deceiving about the outside heat. Thankfully, Daddy felt sorry for me enough that he drove across the highway and got an ice cream cone for me and one for mother.  He didn’t want one he said as he poured himself another cup of coffee.

“How ‘bout some boiled eggs and crackers?” Mother turned around and looked at me and then at Daddy.

“Good grief, Mother, it’s hot as blue blazes in here and you’re wanting us to eat boiled eggs and crackers? I replied.

“Well, how ‘bout a piece of apple pie then? “ She asked.  So, not wanting to hurt her feelings and hearing my stomach growl occasionally, I said I’d take a piece of pie but she could keep her eggs and crackers.  So, she cut a piece of pie for me and one for Daddy. Of course, Daddy didn’t stop long enough to eat so she scooted over closer to him and fed his piece to him a bite at a time. Then, she poured some water from a little red thermos that she had filled with water and ice before we left home. It wasn’t very cold but at least, it was wet.

It was well after dark when we pulled into Grandma’s in Ventura. She lived with her youngest daughter and her husband so after a tearful reunion, Grandma and Mother finally got all the tears wiped away and settled down. Daddy unloaded our belongings from the car including what was left of the apple pie, boiled eggs and crackers. Then we were shown where we were to sleep and assured there was a busy day of sightseeing ahead of us.

“Oh, joy,” I thought, “Just what I needed; more time riding in a car.”

Family is so important. I wish I had realized that more when I was thirteen and had been a bit more sympathetic toward my Mother when she wanted to see her Mother. I don’t think we realize how important that bond is until we become Mothers, (or Fathers). I am so very thankful for my children and grandchildren. I’m thankful that God has placed them close enough that I can see them frequently. And, I am thankful that, because of His grace, all of them are Believers and we will all be together forever in eternity.

 

“Children, do what your parents tell you. This is only right. “Honor your father and mother” is the first commandment that has a promise attached to it, namely, “so you will live well and have a long life.Fathers, don’t exasperate your children by coming down hard on them. Take them by the hand and lead them in the way of the Master.” Ephesians 6:1-4

Out Came Those Tonsils

And, so it was…….a warm day in April and there I was in a hospital bed in the next town over waiting for the doctor to come in for me.

“Good morning!  How are we feeling this morning?” asked the doctor. He was a new doctor and he wasn’t smiling and calling me young lady like Dr. C. did. I wasn’t sure I was going to trust this man to take out my tonsils.  I didn’t say a word. I hadn’t decided whether or not I was going to like this man.

I was in a big room and in another bed on the other side of the room was a boy about my age. Apparently, his tonsils were poisoning his system just like Dr. C. said mine were.

“And, how are you doing, young man?” inquired this new doctor.  The boy just looked at him and, like me, didn’t say a word.  The nurses came for the boy first. She was pushing this bed on rollers.

“Just climb over on this gurney”, she said to the boy, “I’m gonna roll you down the hall to the operating room.”

“I don’t want to ride on that thing.  I’ll just walk.”  And, he promptly jumped down off his bed and started striding across the room toward the door.  He must have felt the cold air on his little behind after a few steps because he hadn’t gotten to  the door until he reached his short little arm around clutching where his pants had been before they had put that awful split tailed gown on him.  He stopped; bewildered and still clutching his gown behind him, he began to walk slowly back toward the table.

“I guess I’ll ride after all”, he said, “if somebody would help me up on this thing.”

Next, it was my turn. The ride to the operating room was scary. I didn’t like the nurses with masks on their faces. I didn’t like the big lights but most of all, I didn’t like the smell.  The nurses lifted me gently over onto the operating table; smiling and talking all the while. The next thing I knew, they were putting this big black mask over my nose and mouth and telling me to take a deep breath.  I don’t know how they expected me to breath. That stuff smelled awful and I wasn’t about the breath it.  I wanted down off that table right then and I didn’t care who knew it.  As I began to struggle, the nurses gently took my hands and held them to my sides and held the black mask on my nose and mouth.  Soon my struggling began to subside.

The next thing I knew I was dreaming I was in this sunny pasture and there were these little rabbits all driving these funny little cars ever so fast and ever so carelessly around and around and up and down until I was so dizzy I could watch them no longer.

When I woke in my room, my mother and daddy were there.  I opened my eyes and they were the first persons I saw.

“How are you doing, Sweetheart?” My Daddy asked.  I tried to answer him but nothing would come out. My throat hurt more than it had ever been before. I couldn’t talk……..I couldn’t swallow. I was ruined and I just knew I would never be the same again. And, to this day, every time I use finger nail polish remover, the smell takes me back to the smell of that ether in the big black mask the nurses held over my nose.

All of us I think, have things happen to us that take us back to something in our past. We see someone who reminds us of someone we knew years ago.  Or, we smell a distinct odor , like I did, that remind them of a place.

“God gave us roses so we can have memories in December,” is a quote I have often heard.  I think that means that we can have the memory of the beauty and the scent of roses when December comes to cheer us up when the weather is bleak.    When we have bad things happen, we can go back to the good memories God has placed in our memory bank and those will get us through the bad times.

“Every time you cross my mind, I break out in exclamations of thanks to God. Each exclamation is a trigger to prayer. I find myself praying for you with a glad heart. I am so pleased that you have continued on in this with us, believing and proclaiming God’s Message, from the day you heard it right up to the present. There has never been the slightest doubt in my mind that the God who started this great work in you would keep at it and bring it to a flourishing finish on the very day Christ Jesus appears.” Philippians 1:3-6 The Message

Oh, Those Nasty Tonsils!

Oh my, I was SO sick!  My temperature was 104 and I was lying lifeless on the bed when our family doctor came walking in the bedroom, black bag in hand.  This was back in the day when a doctor was a real family doctor; didn’t specialize in anything in particular and doctored everyone in the family.  And, he made house calls even in the middle of the night.

That day, he punched and probed and examined.  Every time he touched my skin I would cringe.

“Looks like tonsillitis to me again, young lady.” He finally declared. “I think when you get over this bout we better consider having those old tonsils removed.”  I was too sick to care; too sick to even comprehend what he was saying.

He removed a big bottle from his black bag and poured some into a big, brown bottle.

“Give this to her every four hours, day and night”, he said to my Mother. Then he turned and patted me on the head.

“You’ll be well in no time.  You take the medicine for your Mother like a good girl and I’ll be back to see about you tomorrow on my way to the office.”

Out the door he went; this Miracle Worker in his dark brown jacket and clean white shirt with a tie. His dark pants were almost the color of the doctor bag he carried in his right hand.  He was such a kindly doctor.  He always wore a smile and even though his hair was getting thin on top and he was getting up in years, it didn’t seem to slow him down at all.  He was the doctor who delivered me and had been our family doctor ever since.

In a few days, I was well enough to go to Dr. C.’s office.  His office was on the square in our little town, just above the drug store that his sister-in-law owned.  We trugged up the stairs and sat in the waiting room until he came to the door and called my name.

Inside the office was a big examining table right in the middle of the room. There were tall cabinets here and there; some had glass and you could see pill bottles on the shelves. Some contained instruments with plenty of clean white cotton towels nearby. . I was a skinny thing and he was always concerned I wasn’t eating enough. So after standing me on the scale to see how much I had gained, he would say,

 “Are you eating good for your Mother?” I’d shake my head up and down and he would reach in a big drawer in one of the tall cabinets in his office. “I think you better take these vitamins anyway.” And he handed them to my mother. “Now, hop up here, little lady, and let’s have a look see.”  He looked down my throat after inserting an instrument that felt as big as a shovel. “Now, say ‘Ah’”.

I was going to gag, gag, gag! I hated that instrument and I hated anybody invading the privacy of my throat. I didn’t care if my throat looked red.  After all, red was my favorite color.

“Well, it does look better. But, I think in a few days, we better consider getting those old tonsils out of there.” Now I was more alert; did he say take my tonsils out? Over my dead body would some old doctor take out my tonsils!  No one; not even this kindly old doctor that I loved was going to take my tonsils out……..NO ONE!

The next week or so was quite an experience for a little nine year old girl who had never been inside a hospital……more in my next posting.

We all know that Jesus is the Great Physician. However, He also heals through doctors.  God not only heals those who are physically ill, but He heals those who are sick in spirit.  He is truly The Great Physician.  

“But when Jesus heard that, he said unto them, they that be whole need not a physician but they that are sick.” Matthew 9:12 KJV

Little John and His Friend and the Bull

Little John’s best friend was a couple of years older than Little John. So, of course, his friend was able to ride a bicycle before Little John could.

Little John’s Dad found a used bicycle and, Little John was determined to learn to ride as well as his friend could.  So, his friend would encourage and try to help Little John learn to ride.

“Okay, I’ll hold on while you peddle,” Little John’s friend said, ”Then when you get so you’re doin’ real good, I’ll turn loose and you’ll be ridin’ just like me.”

So, off Little John went, peddling as fast as his little legs would peddle.  Being able to balance wasn’t one of his positive attributes.  He would peddle; wobble and over he would go.  Then, his temper would take over and he would sit and cry.  He was so mad that he couldn’t succeed like his friend. But, after many, many, MANY attempts, skinned elbows and knees, Little John finally conquered the bicycle and he was so proud.

Adventure was one of the things the boys always looked for.  They loved riding on bridges because they were smooth, unlike the dirt roads they had to ride on.  They would ride back and forth down the old dirt roads, leaning first one way and then another seeing how far they could lean without falling over.

One day, as they were riding on one of the bridges, Little John’s friend looked up.

“Look at that old bull standin’ over there on the other side of this bridge, he said, pointing, “let’s see if we can scare him.”

So, the two boys began mooing and bawling like they had heard the cattle doing. Suddenly, the old bull put his head down and came barreling toward them.  They started peddling as fast as their legs would go with the old bull gaining ground on them. Finally, the old bull got tired of the chase and went back to grazing. The only problem was, the boys found themselves on the opposite side of the bridge from home .

“Now what are we goin’ do?” Said Little John. “We sure can’t go back across there and that old bull a standin’ there ‘cause he’s just gonna chase us again. We may be here all night. Reckon somebody will come a lookin’ for us?”

“Let’s just ride on down here to that old low water bridge and play for a while. Maybe when we come back, that old bull’ll be gone,” Said Little John’s friend. So, off they rode and sure enough, in a couple of hours when they headed back toward home, the bull was gone and they were plenty relieved.

Have you ever found yourself in a situation and wondered how you would escape?  Maybe it was somewhere you went that you shouldn’t have and someone walked in and saw you.  Or maybe it was finding yourself lying to a friend who had ask you go with them to a movie.  You said you had to study.  Later that night, when your friend called, your Mother said you had gone to a party with another friend. There you were; caught between a rock and a hard place.

Nothing that we do takes our Lord by surprise.  He knows our inner most thoughts. And, if we confess our sins to Him, He is always willing to make a way of escape.

” If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.” 1 John 1:9 ESV

 

Little John and Mr. A. go to Town

“ I’m needin’ to go to town and pick up a few things, Little John.  Reckon you could drive me in Saturday?” Mr. A asked.

“Yep, sure can.  I’ll get the milkin’ done for dad Saturday mornin’ and then I’ll come across the road to your house about 10:00.  Mom’ll probably have some chores for me to do before I can go; she usually does.”

So, Little John and Mr. A. headed toward town in the old Model A.  Every squeak and rattle manifested itself as they road along the old dirt road.

“ Looks like we might be headed for some cold weather ‘bout next week.  What’d ya think about us going rabbit huntin’ if it snows?” inquired Mr. A.

“Sure thing; I’d like that.” Replied Little John.

By this time they had gotten to the square.  Little John pulled the old Model A in front of the hardware store and they two of them climbed out and went inside. Mr. A. visited with the proprietor while Little John walked up and down the aisle looking at the different things on display. His favorite aisle was the gun aisle.  He would stand and stare at the 22’s and shotguns and dream of the day he’d have enough money to buy one.

“Come here, Mr. A.  I gotta show you something.” Hollered Little John. So, down the aisle came Mr. A.

“What is it?

“Looka here. This guns got a telescope on it. You can look through it and it brings the target up closer. Man, I’m gonna have one of them one of these days.”

“Okay, let’s go, Little John. I think we might ought to head down to Check’s and get us a bowl of chili and a burger. What ‘cha think about us a doin’ that?”

Little John didn’t have to be asked twice. So, down the sidewalk they headed. Opening the door to the restaurant, they chose to straddle a couple of the stools and order up big bowls of chili and burgers. Crumbling a handful of crackers in the chili, Mr. A. looked at Little John.

“How’s ‘bout you goin’ over there to that coke box and gettin’ us a couple of them RC colas?” Mr. A nudged Little John and pointed to the coke box.

After they finished their meal in the steamy, smoke filled restaurant, they headed back to the old Model A, Little John jumped in the drivers seat.

“Watch this, Mr. A.,” said Little John. He backed out and put the Model A in gear. A control on a Model A located by the accelerator on the steering wheel column was called spark control.  It advanced or retarded the timing of the engine. Little John pushed the spark control up and barely gave the Model A some gas.  As they headed around the square very slowly, the old vehicle would cluck, cluck, cluck just like an old setting hen.  It was a strange enough sound that it drew the attention of those who were outside standing around or walking down the sidewalks. They would all stop what they were doing to see where the noise was coming from. The women would look at each other and wonder but the men knew exactly what Little John was doing and they would rare their heads back and laugh.

“How’d you do that, Little John? Inquired Mr. A.

“I ain’t a tellin’ “ said Little John as he gave the old Model A some more gas and turned the steering wheel toward home.  All the way home, they were chuckling to themselves about Little John’s antics and talking about the fun they were going to have as soon as there was snow on the ground.

“Do not rebuke an older man but encourage him as you would a father, younger men as brothers, older women as mothers, younger women as sisters, in all purity.”1 Timothy 5:1-2 ESV

Little John and Mr. A. Go Squirrel Hunting

“I ‘spect this would be a good day for us to go squirrel huntin’, Little John, whata you think?” Inquired Mr. A.

“Hey, I’d like that. Let me run across to the house here and tell Mom where we’re goin’ and I’ll get my .22 and some ammo. I’ll be right back.” Said Little John. So, off he ran.  He was back in a little bit carrying his old .22.

“Mom said I could go and she’s a plannin’ on squirrel for supper.” Little John laughed.

So, off across the field they went, Old Bernie, Little John’s dog, running ahead of them. Seems he knew he would be needed to tree and then retrieve the squirrels that Little John brought down with that .22.

“He’s treed one, Mr. A.  Let’s see where he is. I can hear him barkin’ so he can’t be too far over this way.”

Slowly, making their way toward the sound of Old Bernie’s barking, they soon spotted Old Bernie at the bottom of a big old oak tree looking up at a Big Red.

“Hey, he’s a fine ‘en, looks like, Little John. I’ll go around to the far side of the tree and see if I can coax that old squirrel over to this side. Then you see if you can get a good bead on him. Remember, your mom don’t like it if the squirrel is tore up so try to hit him right smack in the head.”

Mr. A. crept around to the side of the tree and with Old Bernie still barking up a storm, the Big Red Squirrel came around so Little John could see him.

“I got him in my sites, Mr. A., now you get back outta my way. I can already taste this old squirrel.”

So, with Bernie barking and the squirrel confused about which way to go, Little John took careful aim. BAM! Down the side of the tree Old Red Squirrel fell.

Mr. A. and Little John walked up to see how bad the damage from the shot was.  Meanwhile, Old Bernie is standing guard just in case that squirrel dared to move. Leaning over for a closer look, Little John looked at Mr. A and said,

“Hey, I did good. I don’t see a mark on him. I done barked a squirrel! First time I ever done that Mr. A. Wait ‘till I tell dad about this.”  So, Little John picked up that Old Red Squirrel by the tail.

“I’m gonna take this ‘en back to the house right now, Mr. A.  I wanna show Mom what I done. She ain’t gonna believe it ‘till she sees him and she may not believe it then!”

I have to admit when John told me he barked a squirrel, I was a bit confused.  So, he explained.

“Barking a squirrel means the squirrel is hanging on the side of a tree with his head pretty close to the tree trunk. What you want to do is take aim at his head so as not to damage the body.  If you aim at his head and the bullet goes just under the squirrel’s neck, it kills the squirrel and doesn’t leave a mark”

“Yea, right, and I got some swamp land in Arizona I’d like to sell you”, I said, laughing. So, as I often do, I googled “barking a squirrel” and I discovered my husband did know what he was talking about.  It doesn’t happen often, but it does happen.

This is the way with sin. A person thinks he has gotten away with sinning because it isn’t visible. So, he continues to go down the path enjoying the sins he has committed. But, one day, there will be a reckoning for that individual because even though others may not see the sin , God sees it.

“For the wages of sin is death; but the gift of God is eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord.” Romans 6”23 KJV

 

 

Little John and Mr. A. Go Rabbit Hunting

“Oh, boy! Oh, boy!! It’s a snowin’ Mom, Mom,” hollered Little John, “can me and Mr. A. go rabbit huntin’ today?”

“I guess so if Mr. A. can go and if you promise to be back in time to help your dad with the chores.”

So, Little John grabbed his coat and cap and off he ran, hollering at Mr. A, who lived across the road.

“Mr. A.! Mr. A.! Mom said I can go rabbit huntin’ if you can go?” Little John yelled as he ran up onto Mr. A’s porch.

“What’s all the hollerin’ about, Little John?” Mr. A. asked as he opened the door.

“It’s a snowin’ and we need to get ourselves down in the field there where them rabbits will be a scurrin’ around and get us some. Mom’ll fry up a bunch of ‘em for supper tonight if we get back in time. And, you can come and eat with us.” Said Little John.

So, off they went. Mr. A. with his shotgun and Little John, his trusty .22.

“Why you take that old shotgun, Mr. A., instead of a .22 like mine?” inquired Little John.

Mr. A. had a far off look in his eyes.

“Well, Son, let me tell you a story about my shotgun days when I was a little boy. When I was about your size, my dad and I went rabbit huntin’ just like me and you. I couldn’t wait ‘till I was old enough to shoot me a rabbit with dad’s old shotgun.”

“Why a shotgun ‘stead of a .22, Mr. A.”, little John interrupted.

“Well, rabbits run fast you know and you can’t get a good bead on ‘em with a single shot so you use a shot gun and you just hope that one of them pieces of lead hits ‘em. Well, one day dad finally said I was old enough to handle his old shotgun. So, as we walked along, kinda like you and me’s a doin’, we scared up a bunch of rabbits.

‘Here, Son, blast away and see how many of ‘em you can hit!’ Dad said to me as he shoved his old shotgun ‘tward me. So, I took aim and pulled the trigger. Dad hollered at me ‘ Shoot ‘em again, Son, their still a runnin’ and you can get ‘em with a second shot.’ When I didn’t answer, Dad looked around and I was a gettin’ up off the ground. I handed him back his old shot gun. ‘Here, Dad, you shoot ‘em. That gun done hit me ‘side ah the head and my eye and I can’t see to shoot’ “

Mr. A. laughed and I laughed, too. I could just see Mr. A. when he was lyin’ on the ground in that snow, holdin’ his head and wonderin’ what hit him. And, I was just mighty glad I was a huntin’ with my .22.

Have you ever been broadsided with something you didn’t expect? Had a relationship go sour? Have you had a best friend share a confidence between the two of you with someone else? Have you ever had something so shocking it just knocked you for a loop? Ever lost your job and wondered what on earth you would do? Life is full of uncertainties. We can’t put our trust in anything or anyone completely as long as we walk this earth. But, the promises that God has made to us, you can bank on because God does not lie.

“Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” Philippians 4:6-7 NIV

Little John and Mr. A. Go Fishin'.

“Let’s go down and check the minnow trap and see if we got enough of ‘em to go fishin’, what ya say?”

Mr. A., was a little old man about 80 and Little John was about 13. They loved to go fishing during the summer.  It was such fun just being together whether they caught anything or not. Mr. A. had a son who had been killed so Little John was like a son to him.

Mr. A. had a 1929 Model A sport coupe but he couldn’t drive. So, he let Little John drive when they went fishing.  Of course, back then, being 13 didn’t keep a young man from driving if he could see over the steering wheel.

“Yep, Mr. A., I think there’s enough of ‘em that we could probably fish all day,” said Little John, “I’ll see what Mom’s got for us to take to eat in case we’re not back in time for dinner.  Maybe she’ll let me fix us a couple of biscuits with some sausage, if there’s any left from breakfast.  I’ll be right back.”

So, off Little John ran to see what he could round up for the two of them. Within minutes, he came running back with a little sack containing a couple of apples and biscuits and sausage.

The two headed down the road to Mr. A’s.  They climbed into the Model A; Little John in the driver’s seat and off they went.

“You know, Mr. A., this old car sure could use a coat of paint.  It’s just a lookin’ pretty bad.  When we get back from fishin’ , what say I see if I can round up some paint and we’ll have this old thing lookin’ like new next time we go fishin’.”

Sure enough, Little John was able to round up some black paint and an old paint brush and in a few days, he walked over to Mr. A’s.

“Look what I got!” He said, holding up the bucket of paint and an old paint brush. “ You’re not gonna know this old car when I get through with it.” So, brush in hand, Little John painted and painted and, sure enough, when the paint dried, it shined like a new dollar never mind the streaks made by the old paint brush.

“Good job there, Little John,” said Mr. A. “I think you’re gonna make a fine car painter one of these days.”

One day not long after the new paint job, the two were headed off down a dirt road with Little John in the driver’s seat, of course.  All of a sudden, Little John looked out his side window and the back left wheel came rolling by.

“Oh my goodness, Little John, is that the wheel off this thing?”

“Yep, ‘fraid so, Mr. A.  I’ll see if I can get ‘er stopped and we’ll go get it,” replied Little John.

“How in the world did you steer this thing with just three wheels?” Inquired Mr. A.

Little John drew a long breath; looked over at Mr. A.

“Well, you know, I couldn’t tell but what it drove just as well on three wheels as four.” Little John said, laughing.

Memories from boyhood are sweet.  The memories Little John has of his adventures with Mr. A. make for a wonderful time of telling stories. And, I’m sure Mr. A. spent a lot of time in his later years recalling that young lad who cared enough to spend time with him.

“You shall stand up before the gray head and honor the face of an old man, and you shall fear your God: I am the Lord.” Leviticus 19:32 ESV

From My Kitchen Window

Okay, so I love my kitchen!  I especially love my kitchen when the sun moves across the sky during the fall and winter months.  The kitchen is in the front of the house, which faces south, so during the coldest part of the year, my kitchen is warmed by the sun, especially in the afternoon.  The pale yellow walls and white cabinets help lighten up the whole room. Oh, it could probably use some upgrading; new appliances and maybe granite countertops in place of the white ceramic tile.  But, it’s plenty good enough for me.

I have to admit looking out the window for the last year has been disheartening to say the least. So many pieces of construction equipment digging, filling, grading, leveling and pouring in order to convert the two lane highway to a five lane. But as I was washing dishes today in the sink, which is under the window, I didn’t see the now widened highway or equipment going back and forth.

 I saw family………..

When we moved to our home after living in our former home for twenty-one years, our daughters were already married. So, our new home wasn’t really home to them nor did it feel like home to us for a while. However, as time went on I realized that leaving our old home didn’t mean we had to leave our memories.

After we moved to our present home, I remember all the preparation for Thanksgiving that took place in our little kitchen over the years. There was always room for family to gather around, laughing and talking and occasionally lifting the lid from a pot on the stove to see what was cooking or peeking in the oven to see if the rolls were brown yet. Family would come in our back door bearing their contribution to the meal and saying, “Wow, it sure smells good in here!” and we would look in their baskets to see what special foods they had prepared for our meal.  There was always Son-in-Law’s pork loin, his Mother’s broccoli casserole, Daughter # 2’s sweet potato casserole and green bean casserole. Daughter # 1 always saw that we had plenty of rolls and usually a pie or two. And, the other Son-in-Law made sure he pealed enough potatoes to be mashed so he could have them for leftovers. I baked the turkey and made the dressing using a recipe that was passed down through generations. And, usually enough fruit salad, which our family calls Orange Junk, to accommodate Grandson # 2 and Granddaughter # 3’s big appetite for it.

At Thanksgiving, leaves were put in the two big dining tables to extend them; tables in the other rooms were set; chairs were gathered up from here and there and we sometimes managed to seat over forty people from near and far for our Thanksgiving meal.

As I gazed out the window today, my mind went back to the many Thanksgivings in the past. I could see the cars driving up our long driveway, bringing family and friends to spend another Thanksgiving with us.

Thinking back, I could hear the intense competition going on in a Monopoly game.  An occasional, “Oh, no!” followed by peals of laughter as one player gathered up handfuls of money from the others.

In my mind’s eyes, I can see all five grandchildren piled on the floor, arms and legs flailing wildly across the white plastic game trying to reach the red, yellow, blue and green circles depending on the color the caller yelled out.   In the end, they would be sprawled out, laughing and yelling, “I won! I won!”

Looking out my kitchen window, I remember another time when I could see our # 1 Grandson when he was about 15, sledding down our slanted yard, the snow flying behind him.  It didn’t matter to his Granddad that Grandson # 1 wiped out one of the yard lights before he could stop.

I could see our Granddaughters and Grandsons playing Frisbee with their Uncle and some of their friends one Thanksgiving. Our front yard is huge so there was a lot of room for throwing and chasing and falling down and laughing going on with the wind hurling that Frisbee every which way as they chased.

I could see four of our grandchildren before the last one arrived. They were scrambling for a position and then posing for a picture on the little concrete bench under the maple tree in our front yard; their hair blowing in the wind and smiles as wide as could be across their faces.

Our family is scattered now; Granddaughter # 1 and her husband, live in Texas. Grandson # 1 and his wife live about fifty miles away as does Daughter # 2’s family. Daughter # 1’s family is about three hours away and next Thanksgiving, Granddaughter # 2 will be married and living about five hours from us.  So, it’s difficult to get everyone together.

We moved to our present home the day before Thanksgiving twenty-seven years ago and still managed to celebrate Thanksgiving in our new home with family gathered around. So there have been a lot of good times centered around our little kitchen; lots of laughter and good food; lots of pictures made and stories told.  And, even though we can’t always be together physically for the holidays, we are always together in our hearts and that’s all that really matters.

God tells us to be thankful in all things.  And, I am thankful as I stand at my kitchen window and remember…………….

“And give thanks for everything to God the Father in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ.” Ephesians 5:20

Happy 14th Birthday, Genna Grace

In 1999, I was asked to teach a seminar at the Wedding Professional Photographers International in Las Vegas.  John and I were in our hotel room at the end of the day when the phone rang and I answered it.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Mom! What’cha doin’”, Daughter # 2 inquired.

“Well, your dad and I are just recouping from a very long and tiring day.  What’s up?”

“Are both of you setting down?” She said.

“Well, actually, we’re stretched out here on the bed.  Is that close enough?”

She laughed, “Yea, I guess.  We just wanted to let you know that you’re going to be grandparents again.”

“OH MY GOODNESS!” was my initial reaction. “When?”

“In about eight months and we are SO excited and so are the girls!” she said.

Our two granddaughters had been begging for a brother or sister for ages and now their wish was going to come true.

So, fourteen years ago today, Granddaughter # 3 made her entrance into the world.  I had assumed it would take several hours for her to arrive so, while John had stayed with the little girls, I packed  books, magazines, etc. in a bag and headed to the waiting room in the hospital. I should have realized it wouldn’t take long for this grandchild’s arrival if she arrived as fast as Granddaughter # 2. The waiting room was near Daughter # 2’s room and it wasn’t long until I heard a baby crying.  I rushed down the hall to the viewing room and there she was; screaming at the top of her lungs with her daddy standing and looking at her.

“Isn’t she the most beautiful baby?” He said.

“She certainly is.” was my reply.

Very soon, we were joined by another set of grandparents, a granddad and two very excited little girls, who couldn’t wait to see the little sister they had wanted for so long.

Happy birthday, Genna Grace, you have truly been a delight for our family.  Your sisters have loved you and helped you learn a lot of things even though sometimes they wonder why they ever wanted another sibling.  All joking aside, you are such an outgoing, loving, talented young lady who loves the Lord, and we can’t wait to see what He has waiting for you in the future!

“Oh yes, you shaped me first inside, then out;

    you formed me in my mother’s womb.

I thank you, High God—you’re breathtaking!

    Body and soul, I am marvelously made!

    I worship in adoration—what a creation!

You know me inside and out,

    you know every bone in my body;

You know exactly how I was made, bit by bit,

    how I was sculpted from nothing into something.

Like an open book, you watched me grow from conception to birth;

    all the stages of my life were spread out before you,

The days of my life all prepared

    before I’d even lived one day.” Psalm 139:13-16 The Message

Little John, His Cousin and the Cats

“Okay, Son, your mom and I are goin’ to California on vacation. You know we ain’t never had a vacation and after 40 years, I think it’s time that we do.  So, I’m trustin’ you and your cousin, Little John, to look after things while we’re gone. Main thing you gotta do is be sure you get those twelve cows milked mornin’ and night just like we’ve been a doin’.”

The next day bright and early, the boys headed to the barn. Milking then was all by hand. There weren’t milking machines to be hooked up to each cow while you stood by and watched.

“Get outta the way, cat.  You’ll get your fill in time.  Just get back over there with the rest of them cats and hang on ‘till Little John and me gets these stools pulled up here and sets down.”

So, they herded in the cows one by one. The cats raced over like always and gathered around waiting until one of the boys poured some milk in a little pan setting nearby.  The cats eagerly lapped it up and waited for more.

It was about that time that the wheels in Little John’s head began to turn.

“Hey, would you like to have some fun?  I gotta idea,” Little John said, turning to his cousin.

“I guess so. What’cha got in mind?” Replied his cousin.

“I’m gonna pull the old tractor up here by the door. Then, we’ll hook up a wire to one spark plug . Then, we’ll put the other end in the pan you’re puttin’ the milk in for them cats. It’s gonna be fun!” Said little John.

So, out he went giggling to himself. He could just see how those cats were going to react.  He drove the tractor up by the door and his cousin helped hook up the wires just as Little John had said.

“Now watch this,” said Little John.  As soon as the cats started lapping the milk, Little John started the tractor.  When the cats tongue touched the milk, out the door he flew and headed over the hill.

The boys laughed until they cried.  As soon as another cat lapped at the milk, Little John hit the starter again and the same thing happened. Soon, all ten cats were nowhere to be seen.

About two weeks later, Little John’s aunt and uncle returned and things were pretty much back to normal.

“Hey, you know, I haven’t seen those barn cats since we got back.  Were they here when you and Little John were doin’ the milkin’? Inquired Little John’s uncle.

“Yea, Dad. We fed ‘em just like we always did in that little pan over there.” Said Little John’s cousin.

“Well, I guess they’ll turn up in a few days.  Probably not use to me not bein’ here to help milk. Shucks, their probably out lookin’ for me.” Laughed Little John’s uncle.

“Probably so, Dad,” Said Little John’s cousin, “they were probably shocked because you weren’t here milkin.”

These two boys really didn’t mean to harm the cats. They just wanted to have fun. Little John didn’t realize that electric shock wasn’t a good thing for a poor little cat’s heart.  However, the big problem in this situation was telling an untruth.  A lie is a lie whether it be a big lie or a white lie. To God, all untruth is forbidden.

”Do not lie to each other. You have put out of your life your old ways.” Colossians 3:9 NLV

Across the Prairie Lands

"Hand me your pen, please," I said to my husband.

"What do you need my pen for?" He asked.

"I need to write something down quickly," I replied, reaching across the seat for the pen he always carried in his left shirt pocket.

"What do you need to write?"

"A poem just came to me and I need to get it down before it's lost." I told him.

"Well, if you can get inspired going across the flatlands of Kansas, you are some kind of writer," was his comment.

He handed me his pen and I hurriedly searched through my purse for a blank piece of paper.

"Girls, do one of you have a piece of paper I could have?", I inquired of our two daughters who were setting in the back seat.

"Here, Mom, you can have this one," daughter # 1 said, handing a piece of paper to me.

With pen in hand and words swirling through my mind like a tornado, I began to write. 

 

We were traveling across Kansas headed to Colorado on vacation. The trip across these badlands had been pretty boring so far as scenery goes. But, suddenly, as I looked across the wide expanse of land, I saw an old silo standing near an old homestead.  The graying wood of the old home and the broken out windows brought these words to mind.............

 

Old homesteads standing,

Gently framed against the sky.

A reminder of the past,

Of exciting days gone by.

 

As you see them your minds wonders,

Of the pasts those old homes hold.

Could they whisper but a word or two,

What stories would unfold?

 

The flatlands that surround them,

The waving fields of grain,

The barns, the sheds, the fields of corn,

Whipped by winds across the plain.

 

The silos standing straight and tall

As watchtowers in the night,

Are empty now of golden grain

Yet, sparrows take their flight……….

 

From windows broken out by winds,

That whipped those prairie lands.

From crumpled roofs built long ago

By strong, determined hands.

 

These pioneers of old were brave,

And strong and mighty men

Who came to conquer untamed lands

Inhabited then by Indians.

 

From break of day to dark of night,

A father with his son,

Would till the cool, dark sodden dirt,

For work must then be done.

 

A mother’s work began at dawn,

The young ones giving chase,

They’d race each other down the stairs

To reach the warm fireplace.

 

How peaceful must have been their lives,

How close the family ties,

With time to work; yet time to play

‘neath God’s own clear blue skies.

As I finished the sloppily written poem, I continued to wonder about the family that lived there.  How many hardships did they face? Were they a God-fearing family that taught their children about the love of their Maker?  I wondered how my family would have fared had we lived in the solitude of this land. And, I was reminded that God created this flat land just as he had created the hills back home.  He had loved these people just as He loved my family and He had a purpose for their lives just as He has a purpose for the lives of my loved ones.

 I was reminded as I looked out over the fields that Jesus said this:

“These were his instructions to them: “The harvest is great, but the workers are few. So pray to the Lord who is in charge of the harvest; ask him to send more workers into his fields.” Luke 10:2 NLT

There are people all over our world who are “ripe for harvest” but there are so few of God’s people who are willing to give of their time; yea, even their lives, to reap the harvest of souls for God.

Yes, God loves all people just as much as He loves your family and mine no matter where they live.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

God, Please Give Me Assurance

“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you,
plans to give you hope and a future.” Jeremiah 29:11 NIV
 

 

I mentioned in my Facebook and blog posting yesterday that the poems I write come from different situations either I have experienced or someone close to me has experienced.

As I read the different posts on Facebook, I realize there are so many friends who are hurting; suffering from physical pain, financial loss or emotional trials. I pray for these people even though I may not comment on each of their pages.

God has placed all of us on this earth for a specific purpose. It would be wonderful if all of our lives could be perfect; free from hurt and strife. But, as long as we live on this sinful earth, we will have difficulties. And, it may take trials and tribulations for us to realize our reason for being.

In looking through some of my previous writing, I came across some things I wrote over the years. So, I want to share this poem that was written by me back in 2005. It was for a specific person with a specific need. However, I think it speaks to many today who are in the midst of difficulties.

I pray that it does…………..

 

Dear God, please give me assurance,

That I am yours; beloved.

Envelope me in loving arms

And shower me with love.

 

God said ‘My child, I feel your pain,

I understand your fears.

And, I am here so very close,

To dry away your tears.

 

You see, while here on sinful earth,

There are trials you must bear.

But, you can rest assured those trials,

Intensify my care.

 

If mountaintops were all you knew,

No valleys to walk through.

Then faith would not be needed here

To draw Me close to you.

 

I am your comfort, strength and rock

I’m your anchor and your guide.

Your help in times of trouble,

When you face the roaring tide.

 

It’s in the times of dark despair,

Your faith increases much.

And, I mold you for much greater things,

For lives that you will touch.

 

You see, my child, you were in God’s plan,

From the time the earth was formed.

I’ve known the plans I have for you,

 Before you were even born.

 

I gave you very special gifts,

No one is quite like you.

I’m molding you for greater things,

I have for you to do.

 

So just hold on to all I’ve said,

Hold on to God above.

Just claim My peace and healing power

For you’re sheltered in My love.”

Jo Ann

Copyright - 2005

 

 

 

 

Desiring to Write

I have wanted to write for almost as long as I can remember. But, there always seemed to be an excuse for not doing so.  First it was the lack of time with the promise to myself that when there wasn’t so much to do, I could be more creative and I would write. Secondly, there was the excuse of a place to write. After all, one cannot be creative unless one has a place of solitude, quiet music playing, a serene view of the mountains or seaside and a cup of tea. And , lastly, the whole idea that anyone would want to read my ramblings was foreign to me.  

Now, I have the time and the quiet place. I have quiet music available and mountains to gaze upon and a cup of tea if I choose.
 
Most of the time my creativity is the only thing lacking.

I believe all of us have been given a talent that we are to use to glorify God. I believe that if God gave us the desire to write poetry, prose, music, etc., He will also give us the creativity to do so. And, I believe that creativity comes from the heart. I have written a few poems in the past.  Those poems have not come when I sat down in a quiet place with quiet music playing, and a beautiful view. No, those poems have come during trials that have come; with tears that have fallen even as I wrote the words on a blank page. Or they have come at moments of ecstasy when a new grandchild was placed in my arms for the first time. Other times, my heart has been overcome with joy and thankfulness to the Lord.  My poetry has been written when I was heartbroken over an unjust situation or because of hurt that had been inflicted on someone  I loved.  Creativity comes from the heart and not from the expectation you or others have to create just because there is the desire.  To be able to use the creativity God has given you for His glory, you must write from the heart.

I do not know if my writing can be considered a spiritual gift but I do know His word says this:

“Take delight in the Lord,

    and he will give you the desires of your heart.

 Commit your way to the Lord;

    trust in him and he will do this.”

Psalm 37:4-5 NIV

 

 

Sounds of Home

“This door knob definitely needs some WD-40”, I said to my husband this morning.

WD-40 fixes any kind of squeak anyone might have. As I thought about that, I began to think about the different sounds in a home; sounds that we take for granted but would be missed if they were no longer there.

The familiar squeak in the floor in the hallway at night lets me know that my husband is up checking the temperature on our furnace or air conditioner depending on the season. So, I lie awake until he crawls back into bed knowing that the comfort of our room is on the way.

I think back to the squeaking floor in the hallway of our first house. After a long day with a crying baby, I would be trying to get some much needed rest. The squeaking floor and his gentle hum and a quiet child let me know that her Daddy was walking the floor and calming her before laying her back into her crib.

I miss those times.

I remember the sounds of Daughter # 1 and # 2 opening the front door at night. This was a comforting sound because I knew they had made it home safely from a ballgame, a friend’s home or a date. Then the tiptoed walk and the squeak in the floor in the hallway to our bedroom; the quiet tapping on our door and a whispered “Mom, are you awake?” assured me that, yet again, I would gladly listen to their tales of the evening.

I miss those shared confidences.

The sounds of a vehicle pulling into a driveway on a snowy night assured me that my husband had made it back from a hunting trip or a meeting some distance way. The key in the lock let me know that our family was together again and I could rest.

The sound of thunder and the flash of lightening in the middle of the night always was concerning. Would this be the night we would make our way to the den; open the door to our cellar and take refuge until the storm passed?

“Think I hear thunder so I’ll get up and see what it looks like outside,” my sleepy husband would say. Then I would hear the squeaky floor in the dining room as he made his way to look out toward the southwest. And, I knew that everything would be fine because he was looking out for us.

I take comfort in this.

The squeak of the kitchen floor in the early morning hours lets me know my husband is up for the day. And, very soon I hear the perking of the coffee pot and the opening and closing of cabinet doors. And, I lie there listening to the birds beginning to sing their morning song and my soul is blessed.

I cherish those times.....

Familiar sounds are part of a home. They are part of the memories we cherish through life.

Psalm 104:12- “The birds of the sky nest by the waters; they sing among the branches.” NIV