Bucket List

When one thinks of a “bucket list,” a person might consider a special trip or cruise, a new experience (like zip-lining), or an opportunity to meet someone special (a movie star, a professional athlete, or someone from your past).

Old and very worn shirt...

My bucket list is in my head and may change from week to week. However, one of the things on the list included designing a top that was similar to one of my oh-so-favorites tops—which is now only wearable when doing garden or yard work.

Because I hated to give it up and because I could not find anything like it to replace it, I bought some material and drew up a pattern using my old shirt. I could not find any similar material, so bought something completely different in colors I liked (earth-tones). I like the longer tops with flared bottoms now in style, so I dug out shear curtain material from my sewing chest with intentions of making the bottom part of my shirt into something “fun.”

Today, I checked this project off my bucket list. Am I proud of it? No. It will hang in my closet; I may never wear it. If I do wear it, I expect the best compliment I will receive is, “Interesting…” My husband will look at me and since we’ve been married for over 45 years, I will read his mind when it says, “You’re not wearing that are you?”

New but wearable?

I think I’ll wear it to my writer’s group. They already know I’m a little peculiar.

When searching the internet on “bucket lists,” I found The Christian Bucket List: 50 Things To Do Before Heaven, by Joe McKeever. Big items on the list included: visit the Holy Land, memorize an entire chapter of the Bible. Some of the easier-to-do items included: join a choir, learn to pray better, become a person of good humor and frequent laughter, find someone from your past and apologize, tell everyone you love that you love them, plant some flowers or a tree, get saved.

 

Most of these things are simpler than designing and putting together a shirt. I’d speculate that I will also get a lot more personal satisfaction from any one of them.

 

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'm 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...

 

 

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?

 

 

You 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? . . .

 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...

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!

 

Cleanliness next to Godliness.....

Elizabeth I bothered to take a bath only once a month. As a child, Louis XIII was not bathed until he was seven years old. Excuse me for comparing myself to the likes of Elizabeth I and Louis XIII, but during my growing-up years on a farm with occasional shortages of water, we took a bath but once a week and shared the water. Perhaps this “shared” water was why my mother was still cleaning out our ears with her white handkerchief as we sat in church on Sunday mornings.

 During Liz and Louis’ time, it was believed that clogging ones pores with dirt and oil protected one from disease. “Bathing fills the head with vapors,” a French doctor advised in 1655. “It is the enemy of the nerves…” This whole hygiene attitude didn’t shift until the early 19^th century.

I do not even want to count how many personal hygiene products I have in our house. Numerous…. Think about the germ-free gels offered at airports, restaurants, and other public spots—not to mention the fact that they are stationed in every hospital room and doctor’s office appointment room. We have learned that germs are spread through dirt and not vapors. We have also concluded that one looks better and feels better when clean.

 

If you wonder where “Cleanliness is next to Godliness” came from, check out Leviticus 15, and you’ll learn more than you probably want to know concerning physical cleanliness.

Spiritual cleanliness and Godliness? That’s another whole topic having to do with my heart, my soul, and the spirit within me that God designed. No toothpaste, shampoo, soap, etc. needed. Just me and God.

 

 

Inside Every Woman is an Adult and a Child....

 

Can you even remember being a little girl and what is was like?    ....At a recent talk given by Gail Kittleson, she stated...Inside every woman is an adult and a child. They need to get to know each other.

 

We get so busy with our own family, working, and trying to survive, that we lose ourselves. We become an extension of others and their needs and forget who we really are, our potential, and as we grow older--who we really were.

 

Does it matter? ....Something to think about:

We viewed responsibility with enthusiasm....


We often thought work was fun...


 

We just didn't just "feed" the chickens, we played with the chickens...

and sometimes, their eggs...

 



 

We were proud of what we had (usually what Mom made)....

 









 

.... and looked forward to our birthdays!

 

We acted spontaneously...

We found JOY in every day things...

We worried less...

We felt connected to nature and animals...

We let things happen--rather than tried to make things happen...

 

 

As a retired woman, now a grandmother, I aim to try to take time to breathe, take time to play, take time to be the unique person God created me to be without fear of what others may think or want me to do. And, I want to remember what it was like to be a little girl. Because, she is still a part of me.

 

Know that the Lord is God!

It is He who made us

and we are His;

we are His people and the sheep

of His pasture.

Psalms 100:3

 

 

 

 

Think about the "little girl" you were...

The little girl who is still inside you....

And what it means for you today..

And give praise to the God of the universe who loves you with incredible love.

 

 

 



 

 

 

 

Worry, Worry, Like a Rat

When I googled the definition for worry, the phrase,
 720 results, popped up along with the words depression, anxiety, stress and the question,
will anyone be normal?

We live in a world filled with work, family, health, relationship, and financial stress. Is it possible to be "normal?"
.......And what is normal after all?

Give God your worries.

When I kept things to myself,

I felt weak deep inside me.

Psalm 32:3

 

 

In COFFEE BREAK WITH GOD, I read the following:

Worry Is a Rat

      Years ago, a pilot was making a flight around the world. When he was two hours from his last landing field, he heard a noise which he recognized as the gnawing of a rat.

...the rat could be gnawing through a vital cable. It was a serious situation. ...Then, he remembered that the rat is a rodent. It is not made for heights; it is made to live on the ground. ...so the pilot began to climb. At about 20,000 feet, the gnawing ceased. The rat was dead. ...

     Worry is a rodent. It cannot live in the secret place of the Most High. It cannot breathe in the atmosphere made vital by prayer and familiarity with scripture. Worry dies when we ascend to the Lord through prayer and His Word.

     Honor Books

      Tulsa OK 

REMEMBER:

Give all your worries to him,

because he cares about you.

1 Peter 5:7

 

 

Christ be with me.

Christ before me.

Christ in me.

Christ under me.

Christ over me.

Christ on my right hand...

Christ on this side... 

     pg. 84, COFFEE BREAK WITH GOD 

This is what Christ wants your "normal" to be.

  

Blood Sister

Under a dim light bulb in Donna’s basement, we washed grime from the recently gathered chicken eggs and then played a game of pool. With a houseful of sibs, her basement was a good hideout from others and the summer heat. Somewhat bored, we talked of starting junior high, who our teachers might be, going out for sports for the first time, and boyfriends.

With only a handful of classmates in our rural area, Donna and I had become best friends in second grade and the BFF stuck. She had three sisters and one brother. I had five brothers and no sisters...and, I wanted one. I’m not sure who thought of it first, but we decided that we could become secret blood sisters. Still in the basement, we came up with a plan. She would stick her finger with a needle. I would stick mine. We would press our fingers together and presto, it would be done: blood sisters: forever.

 

Well, the discussion and final decision took a long time as I was a chicken. I fainted easily. I wanted to be her blood sister, but feared I would I end up on the basement floor white as a ghost with her family staring over me and the secret no longer a secret....

While I sat on an overturned bucket --trying to talk myself into it, trying to talk myself out of it-- Donna gathered alcohol, a long needle, and cotton, and returned to the basement. I took a deep breath under the shadowy light overhead and watched her prick her finger and the blood ooze out. “It’s your turn,” she said. I turned away from her so as not to see the bright red drops on her finger and scratched my own finger. No blood. I scratched harder, and enough blood seeped from my pointer finger. We pressed our fingers together and said, “We are blood sisters!”

I can’t say I felt any different after the deed was done. I can tell you that she is still one of my best BFF.

In our wonderful and worldwide family of God, we have fathers, mothers, brothers, and sisters wherever we look because “in Christ” we are blood relatives either way. Yes, He shed his blood for us so that we might be a part of His family.

Need a BFF?

Need a blood sister or brother?

You already got it....

 

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....and 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 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. 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.

  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.

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 last Sunday. 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.