A Childhood Memory and Perceptions

 

No Supper Tonight

 

With empty tummies, we climbed the chipped

linoleum steps. At the top of the stairs,

Mom gave our backsides a slight shove and stated,

“Get into bed; there will be no supper tonight.”

 

I spotted the picture of my brother and me as we
passed the bookshelf in the hallway,
and I wondered how things had gone so wrong.

 

 

In our bedroom, I ventured to the window; the sun was shining behind our big red barn. I stretched to catch a glimpse of the damaged fences, but it had happened on the other side of the barn.

 

I crawled into bed with my clothes on.

I was sweaty and my hands were dirty.

My jammies were downstairs in the bathroom....

hanging on my special hook.

I had never gone to bed in my clothes before.

Should I take my socks off?

Brother stared at me from his bed.  It was summer, but his covers were pulled up to his chin. We had nothing to say to each other.  I felt isolated from the world.  I tried closing my eyes.

Slowly, the room darkened as the sun did its evening thing, and there was a knock on the door. Dad came in with a tray: saltine crackers and two glasses of milk. He sat on the edge of the bed and helped us drink the milk. We had never had milk in bed before. He helped us with our prayers, said nothing about the day’s events, patted us on the head, and left the room. I felt a little better.


 

What had we done?

Big brother, at five, decided to show me, his younger sister by thirteen months, how to drive the farm tractor. He pulled me up and showed me where to stand as he sat on the iron seat, stretched to shove in the clutch, and worked the throttle with his fingers.  Dad’s Oliver rumbled and came to life. Our excitement grew.

 

As he released the clutch, the tractor catapulted across the farmyard. Chickens squawked, and the family dogs started barking.  My tiny fingers clutched the wheel well and the back of the tractor seat as we bounced along.  We hit a rut or two, and the monster took a different direction and headed straight for our massive barn.



Fences were flattened, and the barnyard cows kicked up their heels and fled to the corn fields as we blasted into the side of the barn and jolted to a stop—the tractor silenced.

My mother ran from the house screaming --apron strings flying.

Dad scrambled from the tool shed and  carefully lifted us down.

In a frenzy, Mother scurried us to the house making unintelligible sounds.  I’m not sure what the hurry was. Although speechless, we both could walk and apparently were uninjured.

Interestingly enough, the most vivid memory was going to bed with no supper. It hadn’t happened before. It never happened again.

 

Mom took this picture weeks later.

Notice who is in the driver's seat!



 



Perceptions

 

 

          My empty tummy, my parent's unusual behavior and feeling alone were my child-like perceptions.

          Looking back, my parents' perceptions were extremely different: fear of losing one or more children in a horrible accident.

          We view the world and situations differently as we age. Our perceptions change. Some of us mellow; some of us become more anxious. Does wisdom come with age?

          I'm relieved that as a child my memories were of an empty tummy and not the fear of death at age three.

          Life passes so quickly. I was reminded of this in church this morning. One of the pastor's sons had returned from over-seas. I remembered him as  fresh-faced little boy when they arrived as a family a couple of decades ago. Now, he is tall, whiskered, and visits with the other members of our church--adult to adult. Yesterday's couples with high-school aged children are now the revered members who stay seated throughout the service--the getting up and down being too difficult for their aging bodies.
          Someone said, "The only thing we can be sure of is change."
          Change is inevitable.
          But there is something that does not change and that is God's unconditional and unfailing love for each of us.
           Although we are directed by God to have a child-like faith, our perceptions of ourselves and our faith need to mature as we are the living image of God in His kingdom. We have responsibilities because of who we are.  Through study of his Word, loving your neighbor, God will reveal His love to us more each day.

This is a blessing.

 

 

May your perceptions

of the almighty God

and his love for you

bring you joy and peace.

 



 

 

 

 

 

 

 



Chilling Out In Alaska

In the beginning

God created the heavens and the earth.

 



If you have never been to Alaska, you need to go--
the sooner, the better.

 

And God said, "Let there be an expanse between

the waters...

Let the waters under the sky

be gathered to one place,

and let dry ground appear."

And it was so.

 

If you have never read Genesis, you need to read it--

it is the book of beginnings.

 

Without Genesis our knowledge of a creating God

would be pitifully limted....

    Henrietta Mears

 



 

 

 

When in Alaska, it came to me that this may have been

what the world looked like when God first created it.

There are places where there are no

 telephone or electrical wires, no houses--

Just nature at its best: the various greens, shifting clouds,

the aqua blue water, flying eagles, the ocassional bear,

a moose with a young one, and rivers teeming with salmon.

 

 

While the men fished for salmon,

I walked....

 

 



...and looked and listened...

rippling waters, the wind in the trees.

 

 

Be still

and know

that I am God.

Psalm 46:10

 

 

I visited the quaint, little shops, ventured into the library.....

 

 



 

and tried not to miss the beauty of ordinary things..wild flowers...

 

a former sled dog... needing a friend...

 

 

a birthday celebration....

 

 

 

Being still means stopping, relaxing, "chilling out."

When we behold God's magnificent creation--

a mountain top, a double rainbow, a simple flower, the ones you love--

we feel joy and a confidence that God works things out.

 

We are finite.

God is infinite.

Therefore....

 

 

 

Give praise!

... and book that Alaska trip.

 



 

 

 

Nature's Creed

I believe in the brook, as it wanders from hillside into glade.

I believe in the breeze, as it whispers when evening shadows fade.

I believe in the roar of the river, as it dashes from high cascade.

I believe in the cry of the tempest amid the thunder's cannonade.

I believe the light of shining stars; I believe in the sun and the moon.

I believe in the flash of lightning; I believe in the night bird's croon.

I believe in the faith of flowers; I believe in the rock and sod.

For in all of these appeareth clear, the handiwork of God.

    Anonymous



What is Your Treasure?

 

 

What is Your Treasure?

 

 

If you're like me and if you're reading "Inspirational Thoughts and More...," I know a little bit about you. So, I guessing that when I ask "What is your treasure?" your answer will be "my family." You may even say it more than once, "My family, my family, of course."

 

Even though some of us may love bling, or the real thing--gold and silver. Even though some of us collect antiques and have family pieces that are real treasurers. Even though some of us have jobs or volunteer work that give us purpose and support...

 

 

... our heart-felt response to the question,

what is your treasure?

will involve people--

a spouse, your children, your grandchildren,

or those very special forever friends

in your life.



My family, my treasure.....
 

 After all,they give us joy (usually),

they are important to us,

we value them...

in fact, we LOVE them.

 

However, for the purpose of this blog, let's consider the further meaning of treasure--something valuable that is hidden or kept in a safe place--and it's verb form: to collect and store up for future use...to hold or keep as precious...

  

Something valuable

That is hidden

Or kept in a safe place...?

 

 

 

 

Is it possible that one’s Pandora’s Box is her treasure?

Is it possible that the something you cherish is your pain, your resentment, the bad things in your life? Do you think of it while lying sleepless at night? Do you think of it during the quiet times of your day? And when life goes awry, do you store it with the other treasure for possible future use? Is it precious to you because someone injured you and you don't want to let it go? Is it something that brings shame--something sin sick--and so you hide it away?

Your cherish this

because it is yours

and giving it away might mean

that you lose a piece of yourself,

a piece that has become a part of who you are.

 

Matthew 6: 21 reads...

For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.

 

Is this where you really want your heart to be?

 



 

 

Somewhat scary? . . . or maybe a lot?

 

Philippians 4: 8   ....

Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable--if anything is excellent or praiseworthy--think about such things.

 Jesus said,

The good man out of the good treasure of his heart

brings out that which is good...

C.S. Lewis...

“[E]very time you make a choice you are turning the central part of you, the part of you that chooses, into something a little different than it was before. And taking your life as a whole, with all your innumerable choices, all your life long you are slowly turning this central thing into a heavenly creature or a hellish creature: either into a creature that is in harmony with God, and with other creatures, and with itself, or else into one that is in a state of war and hatred with God, and with its fellow creatures, and with itself. To be the one kind of creature is heaven: that is, it is joy and peace and knowledge and power. To be the other means madness, horror, idiocy, rage, impotence, and eternal loneliness. Each of us at each moment is progressing to the one state or the other.”



Whick direction are you moving?
Is your "treasure" honoring the God of the universe?
How about filling your "treasure box" with the fruits of the Spirit?

Something to think about!

Check out Connie Lee's AssertiveServants.org

for thoughts on honest living and joyful giving....



Forever Friends...

Piglet sidled up to Pooh from behind.
"Pooh?" he whispered.
"Yes, Piglet?"
"Nothing," said Piglet, taking Pooh's hand.
"I just wanted to be sure of you.”







Do you have a forever friend?
Piglet and Poo more than likely consider each other a forever-friend.
What exactly is a forever friend--

“When we honestly ask ourselves

which person in our lives mean the most to us,

we often find that it is those who,

instead of giving advice, solutions, or cures,

have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds

with a warm and tender hand.

The friend who can be silent with us

 in a moment of despair or confusion,

who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement,

who can tolerate not knowing, not curing, not healing

and face with us the reality of our powerlessness,

that is a friend who cares.”
― Henri J.M. Nouwen, Out of Solitude...

I'd also like to add that a forever friend is one that you can laugh with until the tears fall....
A forever friend accepts you the way you are without trying to change you into someone you are not...
A forever friend will drop everything she is doing in your time of crisis and be there for you...
A forever friend loves you no matter how bad you look, how disheveled your life may be...

 

Plus, a forever friend

lasts a lifetime.

 



 

 She will not give up on you.

Even if she is miles away....

Her spirit is with you.

 

Whether you have a forever friend or not....

Whether you have more than one forever friend....

     lucky girl, you....or not...

There is someone else who will be your forever friend....

 



 JESUS...

a forever friend...

with an eye on eternity.

 

Repeating Nouwen's words from "Out of Solitude"... it is those who...have chosen to share our pain and touch our wounds.... The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement.... and face with us the reality of our powerlessness... that is a friend who cares."

 

 

 

That is Jesus.

 

 

No longer do I call you servants,

for the servant does not know what his master is doing;

but I have called you friends,

for all that I have heard from my Father

I have made known to you.

   John 15:15  

 

See what kind of love the Father has given to us, that we should be called children of God; and so we are.....     1John 3:1

 

Yes, what a friend we have in Jesus...

a forever friend. 

 

  Let us give thanks for our forever-friends and especially for God's unconditional love for each of us.

“We'll be Friends Forever, won't we, Pooh?' asked Piglet.
Even longer,' Pooh answered.”
       ― A.A. Milne, Winnie-the-Pooh

 

Mother's Vanity....

Marjorie June (8th grade graduation)

Marjorie June grew up during the depression moving from farm to farm and living sometimes with extended family. She enjoyed the occasional dogs and cats that wandered unto their place and dreamed of getting married, having a family, and living on a farm of her own.

Her father was a seed-corn dealer, and as a young woman it was

Marjorie June (HS graduation)

common for her to help out in the fields as needed.

Vanity?
I'm not sure she had time for such thoughts, stylish clothes or even a mirror to consider all this.

Vaseline on her eyebrows and lips and a little face powder were her only makeup applications.

She met my father at a church gathering and fell in love before he left to serve in World War II. Letters were written and a relationship made more precious by the country's circumstances was formed. Mom made a wedding dress out of white wool and waited. Dad returned home with a silver medal and a gold star--perhaps a somewhat changed man. Vows were exchanged in a simple ceremony.

Mr. and Mrs.

After a brief honeymoon, they moved to the family farmstead. Used furniture filled the house; however, a new bedroom set which included a chest of drawers, a bed with head and end boards, and a vanity with a mirror the width of the dressing table were purchased.

She must have felt like a princess--

married to a veteran,

living in the country

with her own dog,

and a new bedroom set

with a vanity to boot

in the old farm house.

In my earliest memories of the vanity,

I see a matching hand mirror,

brush and comb--

all placed on a doily

which covered the

always shining surface.

And, nothing else.

The front drawers held personal items--
a bundle of letters from her husband written
while he was over-seas, nightgowns, and socks.

Only dressing-up on Sunday mornings, I see her checking her reflection in the large mirror. Was the vertical line on her hosiery straight? Was her slip showing? And, her hat, was it at the right angle; should she pull the netting over her face or shift it back over the hat?

As a soon-to-be-mom, I picture her in the early morning--
after her husband has gone out to chores--
looking in the vanity mirror and studying
the changes in her young body as her pregnancy progressed.

Months later,

I visualize her sitting on the bed

holding a new born

and staring at this

new image of herself.

A mother with a miracle.

A two year old and a three year old.

A year, then another, and yet another slipped by. A nicely framed picture of the family children settled in one spot on her vanity along with products from the Watkins man, socks needing darning, and a pattern or two. A cluttered surface that no longer needed dusting.

My brother and I with a new brother!

The surface items evolved as one year lapsed into another to include a stack of diapers neatly folded, Sunday School lessons, and an updated picture or two of what was happening in the family.

When Mom was busy with the cleaning, baking, and meal preparation in the kitchen, the important papers were shuffled into their bedroom and unto the vanity. I wonder if she ever took time to ponder her image and wonder what she had gotten herself into.

And, then, there were four... surrounding Grandpa Harry.

The only time the clutter disappeared occurred when Aunt Gladys visited from California. In my eyes, Aunt Gladys, my mother's only sister, was a woman of the world. Within an hour of her arrival, her suitcase would be plopped on the bed in my parent's bedroom with her seated on one side and me on the other and the question, "Want to see my shoes?"

I'd slip on her shoes, drape her colorful outfits across my shoulders and dream of growing up and owning fancy outfits of my own. I remember studying the two of us--our reflections--as we shared the suitcase contents.

As I grew older, I would ask my mother, "Can I use the mirror?" It was the only full length mirror in the house. Entering the bedroom, I would close the door part way not wanting to draw the attention of any of my five brothers.

Was my slip showing?

Did my hair look right?

Did this blouse and skirt really match?

Standing on my tip-toes,

I wished my legs were longer.

A Sunday morning picture, another brother, and a new baby.

The vanity stayed cluttered, but the contents continued to change over the years. The Watkins man stopped coming to our house; the Avon lady took his place. Tubes of hand lotion (buy one/get one free), miscellaneous birthday and anniversary cards, pages torn from magazines with articles worth keeping blanketed the matching brush, comb, and mirror set along with a smattering of the boys' school pictures and a stack of cloth diapers--always neatly folded.






One year folded into another.
The family picture changed.

My parents moved off the farm and into town.
The furniture went with them--
including the bedroom set they bought as newly weds.







The most recent family picture was moved to a new spot--a bookshelf in the living room--along with numerous pictures of the grandchildren.

The vanity surface now supported a box of tissues, miscellaneous items bought on sale from the local dollar stores, new books ordered through the mail, and a prescription or two.

The yearly Thanksgiving and Christmas gatherings passed--with a houseful of conversation, food, and energy for a couple of days and then quiet again in my parents' home. Decades passed. The family grew. We had to sit on the floor amongst the grandchildren's blocks and books. The only quiet place was Mom and Dad's room with the visiting coats stacked high on their bed.

Mom was diagnosed with a rare cancer in her eighties.

Who did she see now when she looked in her vanity mirror?

What did she remember?

What were her thoughts?
Did she even take the time to look?

She said little.

I came to stay for a week before her death.

Her appearance no longer mattered.

Daily, she wore the same clothes and shoes
and shrugged her shoulders when asked
a question.

After helping her into bed one night,
I scanned their bedroom. As usual,
my mom was a "stacker," and clutter reigned
--except for the top of the vanity.

One picture remained--
my college graduation picture.

Although filled with furniture, her wedding dishes and silverware, her many books and magazines, the house felt empty after her death. Months later, Dad decided to try assistive living and told us to take what we wanted. Although there were a few antiques of value, I wanted only the vanity with the large mirror that had witnessed so much of life.

Now taking residence in my home, my mom's vanity holds my pajamas, my socks, and my favorite CD's. The surface displays a picture of my husband and me and is often dusty.

And,
whenever I take time
to look into that large mirror,
I
see
me
and
remember
her.

Man is like to vanity; his days are as a shadow that passeth away.

Psalm 144:4

Micah, a book in the Old Testament with only seven chapters, asks a significant question in Chapter 6,
verse 8: . . . what does the Lord require of you?

To act justly

and to love mercy

and to walk

humbly

with your God.

Thank you, God, for Moms.

Hooked on Beth Moore's Bible Studies

"You need to do a Beth Moore Bible study," my sister-in-law, Debbie, told me. "You'll love her."



 Years later,

Debbie gave up on my efforts 

and sent

JAMES, Mercy Triumphs

through the mail--

to me.

She was right: I loved the study. Beth Moore writes with a genuiness and a connected-ness to women of any age. She knows her Bible history and makes it come alive.


I'd like to share a few things from the JAMES study....

;;

 

Who was James?

 

 

 

James was the half brother of Jesus who more than likely grew up in the same household as Jesus along with other brothers and at least one sister. His parents were Mary and Joseph.

 

The book in the Bible, James, was one of the last to be accepted as part of the New Testament but probably one of the first to be written.

 

It has only five chapters.... an easy read.

 

Although a half brother of Jesus, he starts his book with ....

 

 

James,

a servant of God

and the Lord Jesus Christ.

Greetings.

 

These are some thoughts I wrote down...

... Beth Moore's words...

   Thank you, Beth...

 

 

Mercy heals,

Mercy grows,

Mercy moves....

 

 

Have the courage to live under strain and pain

to be part of a better story.

A larger story.

Don't wimp out.

Don't waste your pain.

 

God's way of reaching the big, needy world is to enlist every one of us to do our parts in love and humility, variety and diversity.

 

God can do a perfect work in an imperfect person.

 

Boasters and braggarts are liars --

every single time.

 

Selfishness makes us sick.

The more we put ourselves first,

the more insecure we become.

Insecurity's mark?

Jealousy.

Insecurity is when your own mind turns on you.

 

What does "full-of-mercy" look like?

Dignifying people.

 

 

If we are willing,

God is our song when we are happy,

Our escape when we are tempted,

Our hope when we're despairing,

Our joy in tribulation,

Our strength in weakness,

And our immortality in dying.

Ultimately,

He Himself is our health.

 

 

A pair of hands clasped in earnest--

prayer is the best means we have

this side of heaven

to hang onto Jesus

for dear life.

 

 

 

Again, thank you Beth Moore for the Bible study on James... and thank you James for inspiring each of us to remain faithful--and remembering that true faithfulness is the living-faith expressed in action.

 

 

In Chapter 2: 14-17, James tells us.... about faith and deeds:

¹⁴ What good is it, my brothers and sisters, if someone claims to have faith but has no deeds? Can such faith save them? ¹⁵ Suppose a brother or a sister is without clothes and daily food. ¹⁶ If one of you says to them, “Go in peace; keep warm and well fed,” but does nothing about their physical needs, what good is it? ¹⁷ In the same way, faith by itself, if it is not accompanied by action, is dead.

 

 

Again, a gentle reminder from Beth..

 

 

A pair of hands clasped in earnest--

prayer is the best means we have

this side of heaven

to hang onto Jesus for dear life.

 

 

James gives us

   the prayer of faith

      in his last chapter

         starting with verse 13...

¹³ Is anyone among you in trouble?

Let them pray. Is anyone happy?

 Let them sing songs of praise.

¹⁴ Is anyone among you sick? ...

 ¹⁵ And the prayer offered in faith

will make the sick person well;

the Lord will raise them up.

If they have sinned, they will be forgiven.

 ¹⁶ Therefore confess your sins to each other

and pray for each other so that you may be healed.

The prayer of a righteous person is powerful and effective.

 

Pray

Give Praise.