Childhood Memories

It's funny the things you remember on a warm afternoon. Today I was thinking about my childhood and all the wonderful things my parents did to make it special. Money was tight as we were growing up so little extras always meant a lot. 

I remember one year when I was six or seven. Easter was coming and everywhere we went we'd see these tiny little chicks for sale. They had been dyed bright, beautiful colors - pinks, blues, greens, purples, and oranges. My sister, brother, and I thought they were the cutest things ever and begged for one of those little chicks. We promised the promises all little children make when they desperately want an animal - the promises to feed, clean up after, and care for the tiny creature. We whined and begged pulling on Mama's dress hem. The answer back then was always, "We'll see." We learned quickly that hint of hope usually meant "I'm sorry, we just can't afford it right now." But this one year, was different. Mama must have discussed our financial situation with Daddy and they'd found a way to grant our heart's desire. 

The following week, while out shopping with Mama, we passed a store with a huge crate full of colored chickies. Mama, instead of shuffling us away from the crate, walked with us toward it. Our eyes were big as saucers as we realized our desire to own our own chick was about to be fulfilled. Reaching down to touch the soft, downy fur of the baby chickens, Mama looked up at us and asked each of us which color we'd like. I don't remember who chose which color bird, but I do remember how surprised we were to understand that each of us would get to take home our own little chick! 

After we'd made our selections, Mama paid for our chicks and we headed home. We had each been given a tiny little box with round little air holes poked in it so our chick could be kept safe for travel but also be able to breathe. All the way home, we giggled and laughed at the little peep, peep, peeps calling out from the boxes. When Daddy got home from work, we couldn't wait to show him our prizes. I think he got as much or more enjoyment out of the baby chickens than we did. 

We took care of our little birds as best as we could but they eventually died. Perhaps it was because we didn't have chicken feed, or perhaps they had been affected by the dye, we really didn't know. It was a sad lesson for us as children. But there was another lesson we learned from the chicken story and it's one I didn't learn until much later in life. The lesson I learned, as I thought back on this many years ago, was that my parents wanted to give us good things. They wanted to bless us and shower us with gifts. Although finances prohibited them from doing all the things they wanted to do, they did what they could. 

What a great reminder of our Heavenly Father's love. If our parents knew how to give us good gifts and made sure to provide all they thought could make us happy, how much more would our Heavenly Father do for us?  The Bible says, "So if you sinful people know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your heavenly Father give good gifts to those who ask him." Matthew 7:11

We may have never gotten those little chicks if we hadn't kept on asking and begging for them, but since we did, our parents heard and answered. The same truth goes for us when we bring our petitions before God. We need to keep on asking because He wants to give us good gifts! He wants to bless us. 

The tiny little feet of the baby chick still tickle the palm of my hand. I can still feel the downy softness of the feathers against my check. And every year, as Easter comes, I can't help but think about the sacrifice my parents made to buy us those chicks. Oh, they probably only cost a dollar or so each, but that was a lot of money back then and could have been used to buy something much more important but love makes sacrifices. Their love was great but God's love was even greater. Their sacrifice was heartfelt but the sacrifice Jesus made for us on the cross was incomprehensible. 

What do baby chicks have to do with Easter? Nothing really. They might symbolize new life but other than that, they're just plain cute. When they grow up, the cuteness leaves and the chickens end up as dinner on our plates. 

This year, when you think about Easter, perhaps you'll remember my story of love and sacrifice but instead, I hope you'll think about so much more...think about Jesus. Think about His love and His sacrifice.

Make time for the ones you love

I have four children whom I dearly love, but it's hard to spend time with them because none of them live close. And while I do my best to be part of their lives through phone calls, texts, and emails, I'd rather see them in person on a daily basis like I did when they were younger and all lived at home. I understand they're grown and have their own lives. I'm proud of each of them and know they're busy with their own families, but I still need them. 

My youngest daughter is in constant touch. I get phone calls every day and our relationship is just about as tight as it always was but with the others, it's a challenge. My son works 2 jobs and is now spending time running back and forth helping take care of his grandchildren. My oldest daughter lives in another state and is always busy with her 5 children and their extracurricular activities. My middle daughter only lives about an hour away, but homeschools her daughter and spends a lot of time serving in her church. All of them stay busy and I do my best to respect their time, but occasionally, am needy. That's why I reached out and established a monthly Mother Daughter day. I wanted to schedule a time to devote solely to her. Middle children always seem to get the shaft and it's not fair. I wanted to remedy that. 

When I mentioned the concept to her, she readily agreed it would be fun. So for the past few months, we've looked at our calendars and figured out a day that worked best for each of us. Yesterday was our special day and we both looked forward to it. 

When she arrived, I was so happy to see her. After a big hug and a quick goodbye to my hubby, we headed out to lunch. It was nice to get out and catch up over a good pizza and then do some shopping. When the day was over, I was sad. I wanted more time but understood she had to get back home to her waiting husband and daughter. 

Growing old is hard. Having grown children who live far away is even more hard, especially since all I knew, for the majority of my life, was being a mother. I loved it with all my heart. This season of life is interesting. While I enjoy spending time with my husband doing the things we enjoy doing, I still need my "kid fix" every day. 

I don't like living so far away from the kiddos and hope, in the near future, to move closer to one of them. As we grow older and our health declines, we're going to need someone to help us out. That time seems to be quickly approaching. 

I'm so thankful God allowed me to have 4 beautiful children, 9 very special grandchildren, and 2 great grandchildren. My quiver is definitely full! I don't know what I'd do without them. 

An unexpected blessing

This morning was my annual visit to the oncologist. For the past week, I've been dreading it and no matter how hard I tried to think positively, it seemed the louder the devil's whispers became - "So what if you've been cancer free for 11 years. You don't know if it won't ever come back again. When you least expect it, it could pop back into your life." And then I could almost hear an evil laughter in the background. I knew those were only lies of the enemy. I was a child of God and I trusted Him to keep me in the palm of His hands no matter what. If He chose to let cancer back into my life, He'd equip me to fight it. If He choose to keep me cancer free for the rest of my life, then I would continually thank and praise Him for His goodness and mercy. Either way, I had to have faith and I had to have hope. 

My appointment was at 10:00 AM but I woke at 5:00 AM. I was nervous. Every time I've gone in in the past, I've felt pretty certain I was going to get good results on my CA19 and CA125 blood work. (Those are tests that are specific to cancer antigens in the blood.) And so far, I've been right. So why was I so nervous this time? Maybe it was because of something that popped up in my Facebook feed the other day. It was a photo and reminder of a friend of mine who'd lived 22 years cancer free and then suddenly her cancer returned and took her life. Experiencing that with her helped me see one was never truly free from a fear of recurrence. 

Bonnie Ferguson, my friend 

After rising, I grabbed my ear buds and pulled up an audio book I'd borrowed from the library. Lying back down in bed, I lay listening to the story as I tried to still my mind. After a couple of hours, I decided to get up and have some coffee. I needed the energy boost. When I'd finished the last drop, I told my husband I was going to get dressed and ready for the appointment.  

As I put on my makeup, I couldn't help looking in the mirror and thinking, "What would I do if they said my numbers were high? How would I react? Would I agree to take chemo this time?" The thoughts kept coming as I worked. Feeling overly anxious, I ate an Ashwaghanda gummy. (Ashwaghanda is a plant that belongs to the ginseng family is is often used in Ayurvedic medicine to help relieve stress. Several years ago, the integrative health doctor at the cancer center recommended it to me and it's helped greatly when I've felt overly anxious.)

We drove to the cancer center and found the parking lot packed. City of Hope Atlanta is always full because it's one of 5 such cancer treatment centers in the US and ours serves the Southeast region of the US. Patients come from many states and some even stay for weeks or months at at time in nearby hotels or in the RV lot on the back of the property. Finally, after several laps around the lot, we found a car pulling out and were able to take their space. Hesitantly, I got out of the car and walked to the front of the building. I was so thankful to have my husband's strong hand holding mine. Knowing he was there to offer moral support meant everything to me. 

After registration and lab work, I headed to the Peach Clinic where I'd meet my new oncologist. This would be the 5th one I'd seen in 11 years. The others had either left the practice or had transferred to another facility. I'd prayed and asked God to help me find the right one after my last visit and He pointed me to Dr. Radovich, a woman doctor who'd been working in oncology for over 20 years. 

I was called back and placed in an exam room. Shortly thereafter, the doctor and a scribe came into the room. The doctor introduced herself to my husband and I, then got down to business. She went over my medical history, lab results, and did a physical exam. When she was done, she said everything looked great and smiled a great big smile. I told her how thankful I was to have found her and I appreciated her kindness. That's when she said something that surprised me - "You won't see me but another year." She could tell I was surprised and then she said, "You won't see me but one more time because next year you'll move in to the survivorship program!" I let out a big sigh of relief and then started laughing. The doctor rolled over to me on her little doctor's stool. Sitting beside me she looked deep into my eyes and said, "Do you believe in God?" I was so shocked by her question. I'd never had a doctor ask me that before. I assured her I did and then she really blew me away when she said, "Can I pray for you?" 

Taking both of my hands in hers, she said the sweetest prayer over me. She prayed for my health, my peace, and for my upcoming knee replacement surgery to go well. She asked God to bring me comfort and calm my anxious heart. She overwhelmed me with the tenderness and sincerity of her words. As she came to a close, tears streamed down my face. I had received such an unexpected blessing I could hardly contain my emotions. 

Still holding my hands, the doctor looked at me and smiled. I told her that was the first time in my life I'd ever had a doctor pray over me and she said, "I'm sure some of them have prayed for you in the past, they just never spoke the words out loud for you to hear. I learned a long time ago that my patients needed me to pray for them and they needed to hear the words spoken over them." I thanked her over and over again before she left the room and told me she'd see me next year.  

When we left the building, I felt like I was floating. Not only had my blood work come back okay, but my day had turned out so differently than expected. Closing the car door, I offered up a breath prayer for Dr. Radovich and for God's goodness to me. 

Cancer has been a life altering event in my life but thankfully, God has chosen to let me continue to live and share my story with others. I've had faithful prayer warriors standing in the gap for me before, during, and after most of my medical exams, tests, and surgeries and I'm extremely grateful for all of them but I must say, having a doctor pray aloud for me was one of the best gifts I've had since diagnosis. I'll never forget this day or how a believing physician made a huge impact on my life.

49 years

Today is my son's 49th birthday and I can hardly believe I'm old enough to say that. It seems like yesterday I was heading to the hospital to give birth for the first time. I was so young and so very scared. I had no idea what to expect - no childbirth classes to prepare me to breathe properly or ride out the pain. Instead, as each labor pain grew in intensity, I struggled against it feeling like I was about to split wide open and just when I thought I couldn't bear another second of terror, my beautiful baby boy arrived. I'll never forget how it felt to have him placed in my arms. His tiny body cradled against me, I felt such love and utter infatuation. Finally, I had something or someone to call my own. 

How could the time have flown so quickly? 1976 seems a lifetime away. Looking back, I marvel. I was such a child when I gave birth for the first time only I didn't realize it at the time. I was just 19. By today's standards, I would have just graduated college a year earlier and be enjoying my first year of college, but I'd never been raised to think that way. As I was growing up, it was instilled into me that the greatest calling a woman could have was to be a mother, so that's what I aspired to be, but when you're so young, it's a huge challenge to be a good mother and though I did my best, I don't think I was a very good one. 

Day by day, I worked hard to love my child unconditionally. He was the light of my life and filled me with such happiness. Yes, it was hard to endure sleepless nights when he was sick or teething, but I did it anyway. Some days were more challenging than others because I didn't really know what I was doing. I was winging it and often would have to ask for help from my mother. Naturally, she was honored when I called on her and always stepped up to the plate, but sometimes, she overstepped and tried to usurp my role. But that's a story for another day. 

Thankfully, I can look at my son today and see he's a good kid. He's a wonderful father and now, a grandfather! As I watch him interact with his little grandchildren, I smile knowing I did something right. At least, I think I did. My only goal, as a mother, was to teach him to love and be loved. I hope he'll pass that legacy down throughout the generations to come. 

Next year, Lord willing, He'll be 50 and I'll be 69! And one day, when I'm old and decrepit, I hope he'll come to me and tell me I mattered.

The Boy on a Leash

It was the most beautiful day today! The sun was shining, the sky was blue, and the temperatures had risen. We'd been waiting for a day like this for months it seemed, so we decided to take advantage of it. Books, water bottles, and happiness in tow, we headed to the a local park. We were going to make the most of this glorious day. 

We walked several laps around the park then sat down to soak up some sun. Vitamin D is so vital to health. We sat there talking for several minutes and then started to read as the clocked ticked by. Before we knew it school was out and children started arriving. Most of them headed for the playground. Their peals of laughter made us smile. Other adults were on the trails getting their exercise in. We watched as each individual or small group passed by. 

One couple caught our attention. They were a good distance from us but we could tell by their stooped stature they were an older couple. There was something between them that we couldn't quite make out and we wondered what it was. As they got closer to us, we could see it wasn't a what but a who. 

When they were less than 100 yards from us, we could see a young boy on what looked like a big wheel (a low riding tricycle type thing my kids used to have). But there was something very different about this contraption. It had metal wheels on the back that looked like hub caps and there was a long orange leash attached the back of it. On the big wheel was a young teenage boy. What in the world?! Why would they have a leash attached to the boy, we wondered. We kept on watching and before we knew it, they were right in front of us and that's when we understood. The boy was physically challenged. It looked like he had cerebral palsy. The couple, apparently his grandparents, must have been babysitting while his parents were at work. But why a leash? We kept watching. 

Just as they passed in front of us, the grandfather asked the boy if he was ready. We waited to see what happened? The boy grinned and then the grandfather said, "Go!" He gave the big wheel a good push and off down the hill the boy went. The hill wasn't steep and had a flat dip in the middle of it so we wondered what would happen when the boy got to that and whether or not he was going to stay on or fall off the contraption. Leash dragging behind, he flew down the hill and when he reached the dip, the big wheel slowed drastically. The entire time the boy was moving, the grandfather was walking quickly behind while the grandmother moved at a slower pace. We were so shocked. We'd never seen anything like that before. Eyes transfixed we were mesmerized. 

The boy sat patiently waiting for his grandfather. When the elderly man reached him, we wondered what would happen. We watched as he bent over and grabbed hold of the leash. Gently he lifted it and all of a sudden began to pull the boy up the next hill. Wow! That's when it hit me, this was such a beautiful picture of the power of love! 

The young boy, because of his physical impairment, wouldn't have been able to ride on his own so the grandfather rigged up a way to give him that freedom. The leash made the boy feel safe and secure, even though he may not have realized going down a hill fast could have meant danger. We even noticed, on one swift pass, there were velcro staps keeping the boys feet firmly in place. 

On the next trip around, I snapped a photo. I tried my best to do it discreetly. I wanted to keep this reminder of love. As soon as I depressed the shutter button, the boy turned to me and gave me the cutest grin. And that's when I felt God speak to my heart, always look for the positive in the negative. 

1 Corinthians 13 is the chapter in the Bible all about love. If you haven't read it recently, I hope you will. Those grandparents were probably in their mid 80s if I had to guess. I'm sure it was challenging for them to take care of that boy much less bring him to the park, which they probably did often, according to how routine it seemed to them all but they did it anyway. Instead of allowing the boy's disability to keep him bound, they set him free with a little leash security. They wanted to make sure he was protected. And that's how God watches over us. 

Life often takes us through many ups and downs. There are good days and bad days. We never know exactly what to expect. We move forward in freedom but God always protects. Sometimes we don't understand His nos, yeses, or even the maybes, but we have to trust His leash of love is so powerful, He'll never let go of us. 

To some, that bright orange leash may have looked controlling and to a degree, it was, but it was more for the boy's benefit than anything else. I'm so thankful God allowed us to be there for that beautiful picture. Oh, I forgot to mention, as we headed out to the park, Phil had forgotten his wallet. We were halfway there when he remembered, so we headed back home to get it. After getting his wallet, we started out again only to get stuck behind a funeral processional. Finally, we got it and headed out again, only to get stuck in school traffic. I thought we'd never get to the park! But those delays, I believe, were ordained. I think God wanted me to see what I saw today - the boy on a leash! It was absolutely the highlight of my day. 

I want a love like that.

Yesterday we got up early and headed to our doctor's office. It was time for our routine checkups. Pulling into the parking lot, we were surprised to find it completely full. After circling around a few times, we lucked up and found a car leaving so we snagged the spot. As we approached the door to enter the building, we noticed several people wearing masks again. We looked at each other and shrugged. Though Covid still lingered, the new concern for many was influenza. We were thankful we'd had vaccines at our last visit. The doc had suggested the high dose injection, the one for old folks. 

We made it up the elevator and into the waiting room. Sitting down, we noticed there were only a handful of people. We took seats and waited to be called back. Most of the people in the room were staring blankly at the huge TV screen mounted on the wall, a distraction to help ease anxiety. From our seats along the side of the room, we heard the familiar voices of "Golden Girls." An elderly woman to our left began laughing at something Estelle Getty said. Her smile was precious. As we waited, more and more people filed in.

A nurse entered the room and called out, "Jack, is there a Mr. Jack _____ here??" Everyone looked around the room waiting for a response. Though there were 3 men in the waiting room, none of them turned at the nurse's call. From across the room, a middle aged woman discreetly motioned toward an elderly man suggesting he might be Jack. When the man didn't turn, I assumed he was hard of hearing and leaned forward. I was seated directly in front of him and knew he could see me. I spoke loudly and used sign language, "Are you Jack?" He shook his head and went back to watching the television. A moment or two later, the door to the back office opened.

In the doorway stood the nurse and a senior adult woman. The nurse was helping her shuffle across the carpeted floor.When they reached her husband, the man we thought was Jack, the nurse released her hold and said goodbye. The gentleman rose to his feet with the aid of a cane. When he was fully upright, his wife slipped her arm into the crook of his. I watched carefully as they slowly made their way toward the exit. They were so cute. As they were walking, I thought, "I want a love like that." I wanted a love that lasted forever, a tender, precious caring love - one that looked past the wrinkles and sagging hips, one that still saw beauty even though it had long faded. 

When they reached the door to exit, the woman turned toward her husband and smiled. He leaned close and touched her cheek. Then they were gone. I imagined they'd walk hand in hand to the elevator and then continue through the medical building before reaching the parking lot. In my mind's eye, I could hear them, "What did the doctor say, dear?" And as she responded to his question, I imagined she'd have to repeat herself several times in order for him to hear. 

Love, so much power in a such a tiny word. Just 4 letters but, wow. 

A minute later, it was our turn to see the doctor. We'd made our appointments simultaneously for convenience. The nurses had gotten used to setting up the exam room for 2 instead of for 1 and they knew, since we'd been married so long, we had nothing to hide from each other. And often, my husband's hearing loss required me to interpret the doctor's questions so he could understand before answering. Our visit went well and we were told to come back in 6 months for lab work. 

After saying goodbye to the medical staff, I looked at my husband and smiled. His eyes were twinkling. Taking my hand, we strode toward the exit. His large hand felt so warm and comforting. That's when I realized, we already had the kind of love displayed by the elderly couple, the kind I'd always wanted. I guess I'd just become too comfortable and hadn't remembered those times he reached for my hand as we walked, the times he'd looked at me with adoration, the times he took care of me when I was ill, never leaving my side. I'd forgotten about the time he stood outside the church in the pouring rain without an umbrella because he wanted to ask me out. I'd stopped paying attention to the multitude of ways he expressed his love and devotion to me, it had become so commonplace, I failed to notice until I'd been reminded by the elderly couple. Without saying a word, they'd shown me I already had that kind of love. I was so blessed. If I'd had the chance, I would have thanked them for the gentle reminder they'd given me. I was the lucky one. 

As we grow older, I pray one day a young couple will notice us. Perhaps they'll lean toward each other as one of them whispers, "I want a love like that." Love should never be taken for granted. It should be treasured and protected at all costs. It's the most precious commodity one can possess and when you find that forever love, like we have, it's a marvelous thing.

Where did January go?

Where did January go? It seems the older I get the faster the months go! Goodbye and good riddance, January! You were cold and dreary. Welcome, February, the month of love and hopefully, warmer temperatures. 

This will undoubtedly be a hard month for many. Some of my friends have lost their mates. That love they thought would last a lifetime is gone. Others are longing for love. They've searched high and low but haven't found the deep, true love they're seeking. And then there's folks like me, who have been blessed with love and have grown comfortable and old with it, sometimes taking it for granted, even though they don't mean to... In each of those situations, there's one common denominator - the rarity of the gift. 

The greatest gift we can give others is love. To do that, we must give of ourselves but in order to give the right kind of love, we have to love God first. The Bible tells us that is the greatest command - to love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, and mind. The second command is to love others as ourselves. 

Self love isn't always easy, but if we really admit it, we do love ourselves to some degree. 

So what's a practical way we can show love to others? One of the best ways I've found to show love to others is to pray for them. This is a gift of love I can give often. Whenever a friend or loved one mentions a need, I immediately record it then, over the next days, weeks, months, and sometimes even years, I pray for each need until there's an answer. It's a great faith builder to see God work in the lives of others. 

Sometimes the needs are answered quickly and other times the answer isn't an expected one. God chooses when and how He responds according to His perfect will. 

Prayer, as an act of love, is an easy thing to do. 

This month, why not list each of your friends prayer needs they've mentioned on social media? Then, as you go about your day, and God brings someone to mind, say a little prayer for them. You might not know exactly what to say because you won't have all the details, but God knows the need. You can offer up a simple prayer like this: 

"Oh, Gracious Heavenly Father, right now, I feel You putting ____________ on my heart. I don't know what ____________ really needs right now, but you do. Would you please meet that need according to Your perfect will? Would you surround my friend with Your comforting presence? May ________feel your strong arms of compassion undergirding (him/her) throughout the day? And Father, may I be quick to offer words of love and encouragement to ________ in the days ahead as you lead me. Thank you for what you're going to do and thank you that I can come boldly before Your throne with my requests. In the Precious name of Jesus, I pray, Amen." 

We should love others because He first loved us, so let's do it! And remember, love is an action word. You have to put forth a little effort to get it going. 

A precious childhood memory

Christmas memories are often either some of the very best or the very worst memories a person can have. I'm thankful I can say that most of my Christmas memories have been extremely pleasant and most of them have revolved around selfless love given to me by others. I'd like to share one of my childhood memories with you today in hopes that it might encourage or bless you during this emotionally charged time of year. 

I don't remember exactly how old I was the year I received my most prized possession but I must have been between the ages of 8 and 10. That Christmas, like most others in my childhood, centered around just being together instead of focusing on what was underneath the tree. 

I distinctly remember turning in a Christmas list to my mother earlier in the month. I'd talked with my next door neighbor (who was a little older than I) to find out what the most popular gifts were at the time. I'd asked her what she was going to ask "Santa" for and she showed me pictures from the Sears catalog of all the beautiful Barbie dolls and accessories she'd added to her list. I took home that empowering information and rewrote my list knowing all the while that my parents could never afford such luxuries. Although I would have loved to have found a Barbie dream house, Barbie, Midge, Ken, and Skipper under my tree, I knew I'd be lucky to receive one doll, if any. 

On Christmas morning, as my brother, sister, and I, sat patiently on our living room floor waiting for the signal to begin, I glanced at the packages beneath our tree. There were less than a dozen which meant there were probably only two or three a piece for each of us. This was nothing new. Each year, we were very thankful for whatever we received, but as a child, it was only natural to hope that year after year, things would get bigger and better. 

When Daddy came downstairs, Mama gave permission for us to begin opening our gifts. As we scrambled to find the gifts with our names on them, our parents sat back and watched with anticipation. Great thought and time had gone into the choosing and even though money was scarce, there was no shortage of love in our household. 

My brother, sister, and I were busy opening our gifts simultaneously. I have no idea what they received that year but I do remember my special gift. The box was bigger than a shoebox and I had no idea what might be inside. It was too small to be a Barbie Dream House and too big to be a Barbie doll. I hadn't asked for anything that was even remotely that size, but as I continued unwrapping the box, the mystery was revealed. 

Through a clear cellophane window on the front of the box, I saw a beautiful Italian doll. Her velveteen bonnet and dress were a deep burgundy in color. Her hair, perfectly coifed, was coiled into individual blonde ringlets framing her angelic face. 

I stared in awe as I beheld this wondrous gift. I felt so loved! Where on earth did my mother find it? I'd never seen anything so gorgeous in any of the stores we'd visited before Christmas. 

Carefully, I removed the wire ties that held the doll securely in the box. After she was free, I held her close and examined every inch of her loveliness. Glancing up from the doll, I looked into my mother's face. Tears of joy stained her cheeks. 

I didn't realize it at the time, but the purchase of that doll was a huge sacrifice. Surely she had cost more than any other gift under the tree and had been picked out just for me. 

For years, I cherished that doll only holding her once or twice a day for fear of soiling her loveliness. She was the most special material possession I owned. 

I don't know whatever happened to that doll. More than likely, as I grew older, she was given to a needy child in the neighborhood or donated to a charity but the memories of her will be with me forever. 

Last night, as I was perusing Ebay, I saw a photo of a doll very similar to the one I loved so dearly. It sparked all these memories and made me realize how very loved and cherished I was to my parents back then. It also made me realize how very much we take for granted in our lives. 

If I could have a "do-over," I'd make sure to let my parents know how very much I appreciate them not buying me a Barbie Dream House that year. Their gift was so much better because it was chosen with love. 

We don't always realize our blessings until they're gone. And while a Christmas doll seems so trivial, it's symbolic of a greater gift. Just as our parents want to give us their very best blessings and take joy in giving us our hearts' desires, so our Heavenly Father wants to shower us with His abundant blessings. 

This Christmas, don't focus on the "things" that make the day merry and bright. Instead, focus on the hearts and love around you. Most of all, remember the most beautiful, priceless gift of all...the sweet gift of God's one and only Son, Jesus, handpicked especially for you.

©️ Bonnie Annis 

Realizing the brevity of life

This weekend, I was able to meet my first great grandchild for the first time. It was an awesome experience, but humbling as well. It was difficult to grasp the fact that I'm a great grandmother. Who ever thought I'd become one at such a "young" age? 

Looking at my cute little great grandson, I could easily see my grandson in him - those eyes, wow...it reminded me of when my grandson was that little and got to love on him. 

It also reminded me that life is going by in a huge hurry and I'd better grab every second of every day before they slip away. 

As I watched my great grandson tug on my husband's beard, I felt a huge tug on my heart strings. More than likely, we won't be around to see this little guy grow up, but hopefully we'll still get to be a part of his life through photos - at least for a little while. 

When I had my children, I never gave much thought to one day becoming a grandmother much less a great grandmother! I was so tuned in to making sure they were happy and healthy I couldn't think about anything else. 

Looking back now, I realize those first 18 years of life with each of my 4 children were flying by. I just didn't realize how quickly they'd go...

The Bible says our life is like a vapor, here today and gone tomorrow. I believe it. 

These days life keeps us so busy we can barely focus on things of importance. That's why I'm making a resolution right now to become more intentional about spending time with my children and great grandchildren. 

I'm still trying to learn to be present in the moment. Perhaps I have a little touch of ADD or ADHD because my focus shifts so quickly all the time. Or, maybe it's due to my life post cancer. When I was diagnosed, I told myself I wouldn't let a day pass without using up every minute of it and that's what I've tried to do for the past 10 years - sometimes to my detriment. 

If you could see my office or my art room right now, you'd shudder. I have projects everywhere! I bounce from one thing to the other and then before finishing one of those projects, I start another. I know, I know...I'm working on it. 

I'm so thankful to be part of this little guy's life. I hope I live long enough for him to get to know me. He'll probably think he's got the whackiest Great Grammie around, but that's okay. I'll love him anyway.
 

An Interesting Ministry Opportunity

We received a text late Sunday afternoon telling us about a service project. As soon as the text came in, I felt a tug at my heart strings. The project was to help sanitize a house for a single mother of five. Immediately, I replied, “Count us in!” While I knew it would be a challenging project, I had no idea how challenging it would be.
A few minutes later, I explained to my husband, Phil, that I’d signed us up. He was perfectly fine with it, which I knew he’d be. After 30 years of marriage, we know each other well.
That evening, we pulled out our work clothes, set the alarm so we’d get up early, and went to bed. We knew Monday would be a long, hard day and we needed our rest.

The house we worked on for the family.

I woke up before the alarm and jumped out of bed. I was excited for a chance to work on a worthwhile project. I showered and dressed then quietly went into the kitchen to have my devotional time. Shortly thereafter, Phil got up and put the coffee on.
Before we knew it, it was time to leave. As we drove to the address we’d been given, we made small talk. It was chilly outside, and we were thankful for the heated seat function in our car.
We arrived a few minutes before 10:00 a.m. and were about to pull in the driveway when Vicki walked up and told us it’d be better if we parked below the house in an open area. She mentioned there were nails in the driveway of the house and someone had already gotten a flat. Following her instructions, we moved down the street.
When we walked toward the house, my heart broke. I could tell the house was in worse shape than I imagined. Walking up the ramp, we were greeted by Luke Ayers of Hope Global Initiative. He gave Phi, Vicki, and I a quick briefing about the project and the family situation. Then, he told us where he’d like us to begin work.

The nasty stovetop

Vicki and I started in the kitchen. Luke explained the stove needed our attention.  Both she and I were dumbfounded by
what we found – the stove was encrusted in grease, dead roaches, and other buildup for years of neglect.
We did our best to clean it, but it was hard without running water. (A pipe had apparently frozen during the night leaving us to rely on 2 buckets of water Vicki had managed to collect.) I was so thankful we’d brought gloves. As we tried various cleaning products, eventually, we managed to release some of the grime.
While we were working on the stove, Denise was working on the tub, Phil was scraping the old wood tiles from the floor, Gary was assessing the plumbing situation, Dennis was working on other projects, and Luke was overseeing the team.

While we worked, we were reminded God’s immense blessings in our lives. Here we were, doing our best to be the hands and feet of Jesus, and that’s when I heard the Holy Spirit whisper to my heart – “Why are you really here?” Without saying a word, I thought about it. Why was I here? Was it just something to do? Did I want praise for joining in on a service project? What was the real reason? It didn’t take long for me to find my answer. I knew God had me there to understand how often and how easily I take many simple things in life for granted.

Filthy mattresses they slept on

As our team kept working, I noticed how focused each one was on their specific job. As I walked through the house, I took photos. I wanted to remember the squalor but also wanted to be remind how God wants us to serve others. Each member of our team was working for God’s glory, not for our own. It didn’t matter how many dead roaches were on the floor or how many spider webs or spiders were hanging from the ceiling. This family had been living here. They needed a clean, safe place to live.

I was amazed to see how they’d adapted to the conditions of the home. Things we’d normally be appalled by, they’d just accepted.

Little things hit me hard – a package of diapers on top of a nasty dresser, a football medal hung from a nail on the wall of a room without heat, a teen Bible covered in live roaches atop a shelf. They were doing the best they could with what they had.

A pack of new diapers in filth

The team leader from Hope Global explained to me that they’d had to remove so many of the family’s possessions because of their horrible condition, leaving them with only a few bags of clothing and some small possessions. He told me his organization had already reached out to
Habitat for Humanity for added help and he’d secured some good furniture and other items for the family.

I asked to be shown a photo of the family we were helping. I wanted to see their faces so I could pray for them. When Denise showed me their picture, I had to work hard to keep from crying. I was thankful I’d put on waterproof mascara this morning because I knew I’d probably cry over something and didn’t want to look like a raccoon.

It was a beautiful family. They were all happy and smiling in the photo even though they’d been through such tragic circumstances. I found out they’d originally lived in an apartment that had burned, then had moved into a home that was destroyed by the EF4 hurricane that hit Newnan in 2021. In dire need of housing, they found a place to stay through the Hope Global Initiative, but that home needed a lot of TLC due to the negligence of the previous owner who’d been an elderly man with a hoarding habit. Luke Ayers, of Hope Global Initiative, had become the landlord of the property and was doing his best to help this family use the home as temporary shelter until their application for subsidized housing was approved. Right now, according to Ayers, they’re number 5 on the list.

Luke Ayers, Hope Global

The team from Hope Global along with the hard-working members of our class, want this family to know God’s deep love for them. According to Luke, two of the older boys have accepted Christ as their Lord and Savior. If memory serves correctly, those two boys are twins.

The family

The children, aged 15-4, have a Mama who loves them dearly and is doing her best to support her family. She doesn’t make much money and must work long hours. Will you commit to pray for them in the future? Not only for their safety in this temporary shelter, but that God would make a way for them to be approved for housing quickly and for all of them to come to a saving knowledge of our Lord?

Our Sunday school class has recently been named Seekers, but while we were working, Vicki came up with a good idea – she said we should be called Seekers and Servers! I kind of like that idea! We should always seek those who are lost and seek to do the Lord’s will, but we should also be willing to serve in whatever role He’s blessed us to do. He supplies opportunities every day. We don’t have to go to a foreign country. Our mission field is in our backyards.

These days there are so many struggling. We need to pray and ask God how we can be a blessing to others. As we seek His will, I know He’ll show us what to do.

My prayer is that we’ll light a fire under our church. We can be a tiny spark that ignites Unity to band together to shine God’s light to all the community.

Thank you, Gary and Denise, for spreading the word about this need to us. It was our honor to serve alongside you, Dennis, Vicki, and the Hope Global Initiative team today.

My reminder

Before we left to go home, I got one last reminder from God. As I walked through a bedroom, I saw a plaque on a dresser. It said, “I am truly blessed.” In my heart, I shouted, “Yes, Lord! I get it! I am truly blessed beyond measure.”

Solo Deo Gloria! (May God alone be praised!)

***************************************

One of the Bibles 

A few more photos: 

This Bible was on a dresser in one of the bedrooms. It had roaches crawling on it. It made me so sad, but I was thankful someone had given the boys a Bible. 

The large garbage bags are filled with the only "usable" clothing the family had. There were only a couple of toys for the little boy. I hope Habitat can help provide replacements for all the things they lost. 

The photo of the plaque with the handprints was on the wall in the Mom's bedroom. You could tell she really treasures her family. 

Their only possessions are in these bags.

The kid's handprints

How can something so small bring up such a good memory?

 

I'm always amazed how small things can trigger big memories. This morning, while dressing, I pulled out a pair of shoes I'd recently purchased. When I saw them on sale, I knew I had to get them. They were my favorite brand, Alegrias. They're unique shoes made to shift the majority of your weight backward, so it's distributed more on the heel than the ball of the foot. They make standing for long hours very tolerable. I think that's one reason nurses love them so much. 

After getting the shoes on, I walked across the floor to my dresser. As I did, my foot slipped, and I realized these shoes didn't have as much traction as my other Alegrias did. Maybe that's why they were on sale. In that instant, my mind traveled back to the early 70s. 

I'd just begun working for J C Penney. I was working the Junior's department; the place women and teens would shop for trendy clothes. I'd never much cared about clothes except for their comfort factor, but when I started being surrounded by clothing on a daily basis, I started to notice the trends. 

Back then, a lot of my friends from school were getting wooden clogs. They were a popular item that year and of course, I wanted some, too. Since I was working, I knew I could take money from my measly paycheck and buy a pair. If I really wanted them, I'd have to do that because my parents couldn't afford that extra expense. 

I weighed the pros and cons and decided they were worth the $11 I'd have to shell out. (That was a lot back then. My check was only $70 every 2 weeks!)

I bought the shoes and brought them home. Proudly, I strutted across our living room floor in them to show my parents. As I went to take another step, my foot went sliding out from under me and I did my first ever split! I was not only embarrassed, but it hurt. Daddy told me to let him see my shoes. I was afraid he was upset at me buying them, but that wasn't the case. He wanted to see why I had slid in them. 

Holding one of the clogs upside down in his hands, he inspected it. There was rubber on the bottom of the shoes, but it was a very thin layer, and it was smooth. Daddy said that was the problem. 

Taking them out to our garage, he dug in his toolbox for a large nail. As I watched, I wondered what in the world he was going to do. Next, he took his cigarette lighter and popped it into full flame. Holding the nail over it, I watched as the tip got red hot. Then, he took the nail and moved it along the sole of my shoe creating a deep ridge line. He did that over and over again, creating horizontal and vertical ridges. When he was done, he handed the shoes back to me and said, "TA DAH!" (That was his favorite expression for completing something and being pleased with it.)

I was shocked! My brand-new shoes had been branded forever... Holding my head down, I carried my shoes to my room and cried. But then, as I rubbed my fingers across the ridges, I was thankful. My Daddy had cared enough about my health to do what he could to keep me from slipping and breaking my neck. 

The next day at work, as I walked across the slick floors of the department store, I smiled. My Daddy was a smart guy! Who would have thought to have done what he did? 

Now shoes often come nonslip soles. Those are so nice and uniform, done by machines, but I would much rather have the ones my Daddy made. They weren't perfectly straight, but they were evidence of his love and care for me. That's what mattered most. 

Oh, how I wish he was still alive. He'd be surprised to see the various types of shoes people wear today and he'd be really impressed with the condition of the soles, too. 

I know another Father who's concerned about souls, (not soles as in shoes) - our Heavenly Father. And guess what, He's also an engraver. His Word tells us He's engraved us on the palms of His hands. Now that's something to think about. 

"Behold, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands; your walls are continually before me." Isaiah 49:16

When you get old, cold gets really cold!

I used to wonder why cold weather seemed to bother my grandmother more than it did me. Now I understand! The older you get, the thinner your skin and the more cold temperatures seem to affect you. 

And when did winters shift from November though January to January through March? When I was younger, our weather was pretty predictable. Now we don't know from one day to the next what it's going to be. That makes dressing a challenge. 

My heart goes out to the homeless, especially on these super cold days. I can't even imagine having to live in a car or underneath a bridge. We've camped in extremely cold temperatures before and even with layers of clothing, down sleeping bags, and tiny camping heaters, it's been unbearable. Can you imagine having none of that to keep you warm? 

Oh, these days are so hard for so many. Prices on everything have risen. Basic necessities are out of sight and those with very limited resources are one paycheck away from being homeless. 

Thank the good Lord that we're doing okay. Yes, living solely on Social Security is a challenge, but growing up poor has helped me understand the value of things. I know how to pinch a penny until it bleeds! 

Please keep the homeless in your prayers. Yes, some of them are homeless by bad choices they've made, but others have found themselves in that situation due to uncontrollable circumstances. 

Never take anything for granted. If you're blessed with a nice cozy home right now, give thanks. If you have warm clothing, consider looking through your closets and drawers and donating the things you no longer need or use. 

I did this several days ago. I looked in our coat closet and realized both my husband and I had several winter coats. We only need one each, so the rest went to shelters. 

The Bible tells us to love one another. We can do that in practical ways by helping take care of each other's needs. Let's remember we're the hands and feet of Christ here on Earth. We can help those less fortunate. 

"But if anyone has the world's goods and sees his brother in need, yet closes his heart against him, how does God's love abide in him?" 1 John 3:17

 

Unity in the body of Christ

This afternoon, members of our church gathered together to extend the love of 
Christ to one of our sweet friends. Our meeting time was 2:30 p.m. We arrived a little before then.

As we exited our car, we quietly walked up the driveway. We weren't sure exactly how to proceed and were looking for the pastor. As we stood in the yard waiting, one by one other members of the church pulled up. We greeted each other and shifted to make room for more and more friends to arrive. Within fifteen minutes or so, about thirty people had gathered.  

Before we began, I noticed Mrs. Anderson had come out of the house and was standing in front of their covered carport. She looked frail but what a warrior. As she stood in her bright yellow shirt, she greeted one person after another as we patiently went up to her offering our support and love. 

The pastor entered the center of the group and explained today's gathering - an informal prayer walk. We were to spend time in prayer walking the property of Mr. and Mrs. Anderson's home. The pastor explained we could take our time, pray as we felt led, and leave when we were through. Members of the group began to spread out around the grounds. Before Phil and I moved from the driveway, I saw Mrs. Anderson standing alone, so I went up to her. Before I had a chance to speak to her, she extended her hand and spoke to me. "You're Denise's friend, aren't you?" I nodded and she said, "She showed me the sweet prayer you'd written for me several days ago, thank you." I was dumbfounded. While I remembered writing out a prayer and sharing it with my friend, I couldn't, for the life of me, remember what I'd written. 

I asked Mrs. Anderson if she minded us praying over her. At that time, Phil, Denise, and her husband, Gary, had joined me. She said she didn't mind at all so we began to pray. I led the prayer and Gary closed. It was a beautiful, sweet time of fellowship. 

After our intimate prayer time, Phil and I walked to the only open spot - the middle of the front yard, and began to pray more earnestly for Mr. and Mrs. Anderson's health. Since they both have cancer, we asked God to be merciful to them and if it was His will, that He might heal their bodies and extend their lives, just like He did for King Hezekiah in the Bible. But if it wasn't His will to heal them on this side of heaven, we knew He'd heal them on the other side of glory. 

Pancreatic cancer kills quickly. I lost a very dear friend to it a couple of years ago. It was so sad to watch his body decline, but even in the midst of his treatments, his faith was strong and he fought hard. The same thing with my brother after his cancer diagnosis. 

Oh, how I hate cancer. It's so hard to understand why some people survive and others don't. Sometimes I feel so guilty being a survivor. It's hard to explain to someone who's never experienced cancer before, but survivor's guilt is real. 

I'm so thankful our church is a unified body of believers. It's hard to find churches who follow Biblical principles these days. The Bible commands us to bear one another's burdens and the people at Unity Baptist certainly know how to do that. 

We were honored to participate today and hope Mr. and Mrs. Anderson felt our love. May God's peace comfort them in the days ahead and may He be merciful to them as they continue to fight the good fight. 
 

The faithful prayers of the righteous

It's early on this chilly winter morning and as I sit in my living room thinking about what lies ahead, I am in awe. This is the Lord's day, a new day he has created for us to enjoy. I will choose to rejoice and be glad in it!

As I was checking my emails this morning, I got a notification from a friend. I had recently sent her a card and she responded to thank me but also in her message told me she had recently been diagnosed with a severe disorder. While sad to hear it, I took a few minutes to pray for her and then shot off a quick email reminding her not to become discouraged or disappointed because God still loves her. I think it's so important for us to stand with our fellow brothers and sisters in Christ and one of the best ways we can do that is to offer the gift of encouragement.

This afternoon, after church, our Sunday school class is going to do a prayer walk. There is a dear lady in our church who has pancreatic cancer. She was given the diagnosis recently of being stage four. When she was given that diagnosis, she did not want to believe it as most of us wouldn't, so she sought a second opinion. The second opinion confirmed the first diagnosis and she was given more information - only 6 months to live. Can you imagine hearing that news? I know if I heard that news, I would spend every minute of every day trying to do everything possible before God called me home. One of the main things I would want to do is to make sure all of my loved ones had accepted Christ as their Savior.

I don't know how many people will show up for the prayer walk but I pray that the majority of our church will. Since it's so cold outside, and a lot of our members are older, there may not be many but we know the Bible says wherever two or three are gathered in My Name, there I am in the midst of them. God will be with us as we quietly march around her property praying for a miracle.

A lot of people don't believe that God is still in the business of doing miracles, but I am living proof that He still does. Almost 10 years ago, I was diagnosed with stage 2B invasive ductal carcinoma breast cancer. My odds of living this long were not very good. In fact, I was only given the hope that I might make it 5 years past diagnosis. Every single day, I thank God for allowing me to continue to live my life. I'm so grateful to him and want to always honor him in all I say and do.

Our time on this Earth is so brief. Many days we take things for granted and I believe that is because we are human. We are frail and weak. Through trials, God often allows them as teaching tools to help us grow. And while suffering is extremely difficult, when we can look at it as a purposeful tool, we can thank God even for the difficult times.

Please remember Mrs Anderson in your prayers today. We will be circling her property at 2:30 this afternoon. She doesn't know we're going to do this. Pray that God will hear and answer our prayers. Just like King Hezekiah prayed to extend his life, we're going to ask God to extend Mrs Anderson's life.

Mr. Anderson also has cancer. He was diagnosed before his wife and his just completed his treatments. She has been caring for him all this time and now she has this dreadful diagnosis.

Oh, Lord, help us not take a single minute of a single day for granted. We know our days are numbered and our times are in your hands. Please help us to be thankful each day. In Jesus name I pray, Amen.

A little hand can hold a heart

 Yesterday, we went to visit my daughter's church. She'd invited us because she and her husband would be singing a duet and she knew I'd want to hear it. As soon as we arrived, we made our way into the sanctuary. A few minutes later, my youngest granddaughter came bounding in and squeezed into our pew slipping between my youngest daughter and I. She pulled out her little pouch with drawing materials and sat quietly waiting for the service to begin. 

As her Mommy and Daddy made their way to the stage to sing, she sidled up closer to me. I was thankful for our relationship. 

After the song was done and the preaching started, she began to quietly draw. I leaned over and whispered in her ear giving her an idea of something to draw. Immediately, she smile and began working on the project. When she'd completed it, she ripped the page out of her little notebook and slipped it to me. 

I keep all her drawings. I've framed them since she was old enough to scribble with crayons. Over the years, her artistic abilities have improved and I can see, that one day, she may find art an important creative outlet, as have I. 

As the service was winding up, the pastor asked the congregation to bow their heads and pray. All of a sudden, I felt a tiny hand slip into mine. My heart sang as I realized she valued me so much she wanted to hold my hand. 

She held it throughout the entire prayer and then, as quickly as she'd placed it there, she withdrew it. I couldn't help but smile, knowing she'd always find ways to hold my heart. 

She was just a few months old here.

When she was just a babe, I fell in love. Not only was this my granddaughter, she also carried part of my precious daughter in her. 

I was so grateful I'd been allowed to be at her birth. What a special day that was! To date, I've been able to attend 4 of my 9 grandchildren's births. 

I had the honor and privilege of babysitting this sweet one shortly after her birth to this day. Over time, I've held her little hand and have marveled at how much I love her. 

It's interesting to me, how perceptive children are. Whenever she's felt I needed it, she'll give me a big hug or grab my hand as she talks to me. When she does, it's as if our hearts and souls connect. 

I got a sticker for going potty back then, too.

As she's grown older, her little hand has gotten bigger. Her fingers are long and slender and I told her she'd make a great piano player. 

When she was potty training, her Mommy started a sticker reward program and would place a sticker on the back of my little granddaughter's hand when she made a successful trip to the potty. The program worked so well, that on a visit to my house, little bug told me I needed to go potty so I could have a sticker, too. I thought it was so cute that she wanted to share her pride and joy with me. 

I can't wait to see what those little hands grow up to do. 

She's now almost 10 and I don't have a recent photo of her holding my hand, but I'll try to get one soon. 

I hope she'll never stop wanting to hold my hand. Though my hand has grown old and wrinkly, she doesn't seem to mind.I don't think she knows how powerful her touch is and how she has and always will hold my heart.

Modern Day Leper

Yesterday we had a new dishwasher installed. The man who came to do it was fast and efficient. We did our best to make him feel welcome in our home, talking to him about various and sundry things as he worked, but we could tell he was uncomfortable. He wore a mask and gloves - of course we knew it was due to Covid concerns, but it seemed so unnecessary. 

When he finished his work, we thanked him and I offered a gift of gratitude. Though he accepted my gift, he made sure my hand never touched his gloved one. When I stuck out my hand in thanks, he thrust his elbow at me. "Oh," I said, "I get it. Covid. Okay." With that, I gave him the acceptable elbow bump and he was on his way. 

I felt like a leper. 

I don't do well with rejection. It's been a thing since childhood. Rejection hurts, no matter how large or small it may be. 

Thinking about the worker's fear of contracting a disease from us made me feel sorry for him. I understood it and respected it, but wished he'd been more open to our hospitality. 

That led me to think back to Biblical days, where true lepers existed. Back then, leprosy was considered not only a health risk but a curse for some unconfessed sin. People with leprosy were considered outcasts and forced to live away from society. Alone and abandoned, these people suffered terribly. Their skin condition caused all sorts of problems as it disfigured their body but the emotional toil must have been much greater. 

I've seen movies on the Bible where lepers entering a town had to call out, "UNCLEAN, UNCLEAN." Their warning was meant to keep healthy individuals away. How painful that must have been for them, to not only suffer physical maladies but to suffer social anguish, too. 

Lepers still exist in the world today. In Africa, Asia, and other parts of the world, there are colonies of lepers living together. Many organizations work to help them receive medication and treatment for their disease, but still, the stigma of uncleanness follows them. 

I've often wondered what it would have been like to have lived in Bible times. With my heart of mercy, how would I have responded to a neighbor or friend with leprosy? Would I have shunned them or tried to help them? I'd like to believe I would have done whatever necessary to give them aid. 

I find it interesting that Jesus healed many with leprosy. He never condemned them, but had compassion on them. 

Can you imagine what it felt like for the leprous man to call out to Jesus asking for healing the one fateful day their paths crossed? He called out to Jesus saying, "Lord, if you're willing, you can make me clean." That man had big faith. He knew Jesus had the power to heal him and he wanted to be healed. 

Jesus could have just said, "Go, your faith has made you clean." But He didn't. Instead, He reached out and touched the man saying, "I am willing, be clean."

That touch...that marvelous touch must have lingered on the leper's arm for days afterward. How long had it been since anyone had touched his scarred and damaged skin? 

Can't you just imagine the power of Jesus' love flowing into the man's body as His fingers graced the man's skin? I can! I'm sure it was electrifying! Instantly, the broken man was whole. 

That's the kind of compassion Jesus has for you and me. He meets us in our brokenness and makes us whole again. He understands our struggles, our fears, our weaknesses and offers us His love, mercy, and grace in their place. 

I'm so thankful we have a Savior who sees us and cares deeply for us. He wants us to be whole. He doesn't force Himself on us, instead, He waits for us to approach. When we do, we must do so with boldness and confidence knowing He not only wants to help, He will help, for He is the lover of our soul. 

When Jesus commanded the leper to be clean, He didn't only cleanse the outside of the man's body. He also cleaned the inside. What joy the leper must have felt to have finally been made whole again! He was restored, set free, loved and accepted. The Savior had seen him, heard and honored his request, and he would never be called UNCLEAN again. 

When the burdens are heavey

Almost everyone I know is going through something difficult right now, whether it's health related, facing grief or loss, financial burdens, marriage and family issues, or feelings of depression and loneliness, the heaviness is palpable. 

For the past two years, we've all been under a huge amount of mental anguish and none of us have been able to control many facets of our lives. It's been the most challenging event and although we can't yet see an end, we've managed to survive. But how much can we continue to take? All the stress has been detrimental to our health - emotionally and physically. Yet, we have the innate desire to survive. 

For those of us who believe in God, we know, even when things are completely out of control, nothing is a surprise to Him. He is Omniscient. That gives me great comfort and a deliberate hope. 

Sometimes, I wish I could glimpse what lies ahead but I don't spend much time thinking that. The things of this world are passing away and the hope of glory is just beyond our grasp. 

I'm looking forward to going to my eternal home. The older I get, the more I long for it, especially since I've lost so many recently who are dear to me.

Taking one day at a time, one minute at a time has become my personal "mantra" for the duration. It's a whole lot easier to take one little bite at a time rather than trying to devour the whole elephant! 

God is so good and I know the best is yet to come. Hope is the key to the future. If you haven't discovered that yet, I hope you will and soon!

Memories past and present

My dress was similiar to this 

Most people know that I flit from one craft to another. I'm kind of ADHD when it comes to crafting and get bored easily if I focus on one thing too long, so I welcomed the chance to sew again. I'd last used my machine when Covid first started, and everyone was needing face masks. After making about 200 of them, I grew tired of it and put my machine away. Inside the case, I knew it wouldn't collect dust, no matter how long it was there. 

So when it came time to make a special gift for a dear friend, I pulled out the machine, set it up, got everything ready and began working diligently. I would be presenting the gift on Saturday, so time was of the essence. 

Flipping on the sewing machine light, I slipped the pinned fabric beneath the presser foot and lowered it. As I depressed the foot pedal, the machine began to run, and it wasn't long before I was enjoying listening to the constant humming of the machine. As I worked, my mind began to wander, and I was transported to my childhood where that familiar rhythm was a constant in our home. 

Sewing was one of my mother's favorite things to do. She had a tiny sewing room in the upstairs of our house. It couldn't have been more than 6 feet wide by 9 feet long, but she didn't mind. It was her space, a place where she would retreat when my brother, sister, and I were being a little rowdy. 

I don't remember when she first started sewing, but her old Singer sewing machine seemed like it was constantly going. Before we began attending school, Mama was making our clothing. I remember visiting a nearby fabric mill not too far from our home with her on many occasions, the dye from the fabric burning my eyes as we entered the shop. Mama could spend hours in there, searching the pattern books, picking out buttons or thread, and having fabric measured and cut. Being there was interesting to me and is probably where I began my love of crafting many, many years ago. I loved feeling the different textures of the fabrics- corduroys, velvets, and linens. I loved seeing the beautiful prints of cotton, playing with the metal zippers, and digging my hands into large bins of multicolored buttons. We visited so often, the cashier and Mama became friends, calling each other by name. Usually, when Mama was having her fabric cut, I'd sit at a table perusing the pattern books. I quickly learned how to find a pattern number on the page and find the corresponding pattern envelope from the filing cabinets based on the maker's brand. Butterick, McCall's, Vogue, and Simplicity were the most popular back then. After Mama had paid for her purchase, we'd leave the store and head to the car. I still remember the sound of the brown paper bag crinkling as Mama tucked it under her arm and reached in her purse for her car keys. Many times, we had no idea what Mama was going to make, but we quickly learned that if she was making something for one of us, we'd better leave her alone and let her do her work when we got home. 

As we grew older and money became tighter, Mama took in sewing for others. There was one woman in particular who was fond of Mama's sewing skills and employed her regularly to make her wardrobe. Mama would work on her dresses when we were at school, but sometimes, she'd work on a specific request late into the evening in order to complete it by the customer's deadline. 

Throughout our growing up years, Mama made my sister and I dresses, shorts, pajamas, and other things. She was determined to dress us fashionably on a budget. 

One of my favorite memories was of a skating outfit I'd asked Mama to make for me. I was a preteen and all of my friends had cute little skating outfits with skirts that would flair and flutter as they spun around on the roller-skating rink. I knew we couldn't afford to buy one of those but asked Mama if she might make one for me. She told me if she could find a pattern, she'd be glad to do it so the next time we went to the fabric shop, guess who was the first to reach the pattern books?! Me! I was bound and determined to find a skating outfit and I did. When I showed Mama the pattern, she said she could make it and agreed to do it before my next skating party. 

Her sewing machine hummed all day and most of the night that Friday before my party. In fact, I fell asleep listening to the rhythmic humming of her machine. I had no idea what a sacrifice it was for her to do that for me and didn't understand it until I had a family of my own and began making their clothes. The eye strain she must have endured during the twilight hours and the nagging back pain as she stayed hunkered down in that hard, wooden chair at her sewing table were evidence of her love for me. 

On the morning of the party, she presented me with a beautiful lavender skating outfit complete with matching bloomers. I tried it on, and it fit perfectly. I knew I was going to look so pretty out there on the rink floor with all my girlfriends and I did. 

As I rounded the corner on the last section of my project, I watched the sewing machine needle move up and down quickly piercing the fabric. It was mesmerizing to see how delicately and swiftly the thread was locked into place. When I completed the project, I held it in my hands and felt the stitching. I wondered how many times my mother must have done the same thing as she finished one of our pieces of clothing. 

Love comes in many forms. Some ways are practical and found through acts of service like the ones my mother gave me. I'm so thankful she was resourceful while we were growing up. We were taught never to waste a thing. Her mother, my grandmother, taught Mama well and used to say, "Use it up, wear it out, make it do, or do without." I'm sure that was a depression era sentiment, but I've remembered that since the day I first heard it. If there's ever a scrap of fabric in our home that can be reused, repurposed, or recycled, you can bet your bottom dollar it will be saved for a rainy day.