LITTLE THINGS

I was thinking that I needed a subject for a new blog post.  My growing number of five readers are anxious.  As I pondered on, I got to thinking about little things and found my thoughts drifting from one “little” thing to another.

Little Things.  Little. Things.

My thoughts actually materialized as I scratched the back of my arm from a bite I got on Sunday night.  I got this bite sitting on my couch.  In my living room.  I was just sitting there reading the AJC—a miracle in itself as it’s not usually read by me until Thursday and if it’s not read by Thursday, it’s not read.  So here I am early catching up on the news.  Minding my own business with one eye on the paper and one eye on the TV showing one of the all time best shows, The Andy Griffith Show.  I can’t listen to two people/things at once now even though I have two ears but I can watch two things at once with my two eyes.  Unlike my ears, my eyes can still multi-task. 

So all at once I feel this stinging and it gets worse and worse—all in a few seconds.  I’m squealing pretty loud to The Husband who is sitting in the same room.  Of course, he doesn’t understand the magnitude of my pain….the TV is on.  Duh.  He realizes when I jump up and start dancing around that I really have been bitten or stung.  He gets some snuff out of his mouth and puts it on the place.  For you who’ve never heard of that and think, “How nasty!”, it supposedly works on a sting.   And believe me, if you’ve been stung, you don’t mind having some Saliva Snuff put on the spot.  You think about the “nasty” part later.  

The Girl actually got stung/bitten by a spider a few weeks ago and it really was a mess.  I was thinking that’s probably what mine was but mine is not a mess like hers was.  Whew.  I'm glad of that.  We never found the critter even though we looked.  I never felt it crawling but I know it had to have done so.   My bet is that it was very little and scampered away.  It caused a big ruckus and a not-so-fun spot.  Such a little thing, that critter.

Isn’t it amazing how a little drink of water will cool you down and quench your thirst on a very hot day?  And isn’t it amazing how one little tiny seed can grow to be a large plant that will yield quarts and quarts of vegetables for the winter?  Isn’t it funny how one little sneeze done in a quiet place can make everyone there startled?

I was thinking about my Christmas ornaments.  I have so many given to be by so many special children and friends and family and each year as I hang them, I am reminded of those I love.  My very favorites, as The Girl will tell you, are the little glitter sandpaper reindeer and the little popcorn wire wreath.  These were The Girl’s first that she made in preschool so they are probably 28 years old.  They are so precious to me and I hang them high on the tree every year.  I love all my ornaments but these are the “little” ones that make me feel so warm and fuzzy.  And no, they will not move in with The Girl.  They are mine.  

My mother-in-law and my aunt both had cancer at the same time.  My mother-in-law suffered from lung cancer and my aunt from thyroid cancer.  Both of them wanted me to take them to their doctors.  Pretty much all or most of the time.  One lived in Cartersville and one here near me….on some days that could be a real challenge if each had doctor’s appointments at their doctors—one in Cartersville and the other in Atlanta on the same day.  I was burning up the roads on occasion for sure.  Anyways, both of these dear ones have gone on to heaven within about four months of each other….I’ve lost count, maybe 7 years ago?

Through all the painful medical reports and discouraging times with my mother-in-law, there is one time that stands out in my mind.  After the oncologist told her the cancer had really taken over and that all he could offer was maybe some radiation, I took her to the radiation doctor the next afternoon.  I wheeled her in, we sat there, and then the doctor came in to tell her that the radiation wouldn’t help and it was time to call hospice.  I’m sitting there keeping myself from crying as I looked at her and she looked at me.  I knew I had to be tough and strong.  She simply said, “Ok”.  He gave me information and I wheeled her out to the car and got her in and buckled, still not saying a word.  What does one say when your whole insides are crying?  So I said nothing.  I got in the car, buckled up, took a deep breath, looked at her as she sat there quietly and said, “Okay so what do you want to eat?” When one doesn't know what to say or do, just eat.  Eating always seemed a nice solution to most things, even though she was hungry very seldom those days.   She looked up at me and simply said, “I want a chocolate milkshake from that Dairy Queen across the street.”  I said, “It’s yours.”  Forget that she has diabetes, she has terminal cancer and she wants a milkshake.   I’m getting her one.  We still said nothing more, drove across the street to the drive thru and ordered the milkshake.  The girl at the drive thru said, “That will be 93 cents.”   My mother-in-law reached for her purse and I told her there was some change here in the compartment on the dash--I'll use it.  I opened it, reached in and began counting as I removed.  There was exactly 93 cents.  No more, no less.  Exactly 93 cents.  A coincidence?  No way.  That was the Lord letting me know through a “little” thing that He was there and He had things under control.  My eyes still tear up thinking about it.  And I still realize He has EVERYTHING under control.

As for my aunt, she passed on later that year.  She was a Canton doctor kind of girl until she developed the thyroid business so we had to go to Atlanta to the doctor.   One particular time I remember is early, early one morning we got to the hospital and went to the bathroom before going to the test.  When she came out to the sink area and washed her hands, she began to look for the towels.  I told her the towels were in the towel holder.  She was trying to get them out and I explained it was a motion one and all you had to do was wave your hand and that towel would come right out.  Now my aunt had never heard or seen such.  She waved her hand one time and nothing happened.  I told her to wave it again and showed her where and she did.  Out came a towel.  And I will never forget the genuine, huge smile on her face.  It was as if her whole face lit up.  I, too, laughed with sheer joy.  That was special to me because she never REALLY smiled much as long as I could remember.  It was a true genuine smile of joy on her face and I don’t know that I ever saw it exactly like that again.  But on that day that motion sensor towel rack, just a “little” something we take for granted, caused my aunt to smile and make a memory for me that I will never forget.  Every time I use one of the motion sensored towel holders, I see my aunt’s smile.  Every time.

Well, now that I’ve typed all this, it’s amazing to me where it came from.  I didn’t have all this in mind when I started but you know, I think I’ll leave it as written. 

This saying is not a direct quote but goes something like this…

”Take time for the little things because some day you will realize they were the big things.”  

FEAR

On this particular morning I was rushed as I was taking my hot car to the car repair to leave and have a new air conditioner compressor put in.  I expect by the end of the day I will much poorer but much colder when I am in my car.  And cool is a wonderful thought!

My phone rang and of course I looked to see if it could be an early morning political call.  Unfortunately for me, it wasn't but it was my sister.  I can't leave a ringing phone when I know the person on the other end of the line. 

My sister was calling to ask if I had heard of a young wife and mother from Cumming who had been battling cancer.  After hearing the story, my heart hurt so badly.   Seems the young woman, Hannah, had gone to North Georgia College and has some mutual friends with my girl.  She had two bouts of cancer and now, for some reason I didn't understand, the tissues in her extremities have died.  The husband had been updating on facebook and the young woman is having surgery this afternoon to remove both hands and both feet.  She's in her mid thirties.  A wife. A mother. A daughter.  If you are reading this, take a minute and say a prayer for Hannah and her family.

I've had that on my mind ever since the call.  It made me realize that life can hand us some really BAD stuff and it can come very unexpected.  It made me realize that I REALLY don't have a bad problem.  Yet.  But that I could.  Eventually.  And I thought that if or when I did, I hope I will be able to trust in the God that is bigger than life itself.    I will not fear and expect problems but I will trust the Lord in each and every minute of my life.

I find it interesting that I just now saw a very large lizard zip across my office floor.  My heart got all cramped. I immediately raised my feet even though it was many feet away from me.  Thankfully. several feet away.   I don't do reptiles.  Ever.  At all.  Not even pictures of reptiles.  So now I know that this very large lizard is under a certain cabinet.   I will probably have to sit with my feet up all day long.  At least I can take my own Pollyanna approach advice and be glad it didn't go into my tote bag.  Oohhhh.  That would not be good. 

I thought of all the times in the Bible that God said to "be of good courage" and "do not fear".  So many times.  He surely means it.  I want that kind of courage and bravery in all things.  So I will strive for it and remind myself that God is always there and I can count on Him.   You can, too.

Maybe he even takes care of reptiles.

"Be strong and of a good courage, fear not, nor be afraid of them: for the Lord thy God, he it is that doth go with thee; he will not fail thee, nor forsake thee."  Deuteronomy 31:6

MIND SLIPS

Lately, there have been different kinds of things in my life that make me stop and consider.  I think often of my childhood and younger, carefree life and think about the older folks that were in that life—grandparents, parents, and such.  And these days when I consider that in relation to the age I am now, it seems to me that I remember these folks seeming so much older than I seem to myself now—even when I look at myself in the mirror.  It’s often been said, “beauty is in the eye of the beholder”.  Well, maybe age is, too?  Guess one is as young (or as old) as they feel.

For the past few years, I’ve actually had to subtract the years to remember my age.  After doing a quick subtraction, I realize I will be 57 this year.   Three years away from 60. 60! Some days I still feel like I’m 40.  Or even 37.  And then other times, I realize I’m not 40 or even 37.  Not even close.  I will share that I experienced a whole lot of joy a few days after I turned 55 and was in the downtown Hickory Flat Kroger on a Wednesday.  I think the little teenage cashier was just asking everyone—I hope—if they wanted the “Senior discount”.  I asked what age one had to be to get it (thinking it was 60 like so many other places) and he replied, “55”.  Ahhh….YES!!!!  I was sooo excited and now plan my visits to HF Kroger on Wednesdays.  I save 5%.  Yes, 5%!  Bet you young readers are anticipating the day when YOU get to visit HF Kroger on Wednesdays and save 5%.  Uh huh.

I so get off track with my writing.  Let me get back on track. 

I’ve realized in the past couple of years that age does creep up and does make a gradual change in people.  For instance, I go into a room often and wonder why I came in that particular room.  I have asked The Girl a question and she would give me that “look” while not saying anything.  I say to her, “Uh oh.  I already asked this question.  Can you repeat the answer you answered before?”  I often listen to The Husband tell me things he’s told me time and time and time again.  I’ve learned just to listen time and time and time again.  He doesn’t have a clue so I don’t tell him.  You don’t tell him either.

I was reminded of “mind slips” the other day when I was home and decided to make a carrot cake for The Husband.  He loves carrot cake.  The recipe I have from the church cookbook is really easy to cut in half.  I have small pans that work beautifully and the husband doesn’t need a whole carrot cake.  (The aging process also causes addition of excess weight easily.)  So I whipped up the cake, opened the oven to remove and noticed it looked a bit strange.  I dumped it out on the racks….and let me say that dumped is a true description.  Those two little layers came out in wads.  Just didn’t look right.  Maybe it could be salvaged. So went on with my stuff while it cooled and then went back to put the icing on.  I looked at it and felt it and it seemed really hard and wrong.  So I’m thinking I shouldn’t waste icing on it and went on about my stuff again.  When I walked back into the kitchen, my eyes were immediately drawn to the island and the 2 cups of shredded carrots sitting there.  Uh huh.  What’s a carrot cake without carrots?  A big mess.  I took a deep breath and thought, “Ahhhh…” Mind slip.  And yes, I made another half of a carrot cake which turned out perfectly with the carrots inside.

With the carrot cake episode, I was reminded of a Sunday night several months ago.  Now I’ll preface this story by saying that I love to sew, craft, and scrapbook.  Cutting and gluing paper is therapy to me.  Making something pretty out of a piece of fabric gives me joy.  Many years ago, The Husband closed in half of our back porch and made me a room we call the “studio” in which I could do all these things and leave them out so I could work a little, go back work a little more….you get the idea.  No creative mess in the living room anymore.  So there’s one way into this “studio” through a door in the carport.  Remember this as it’s important.  This particular Sunday night, about 8:00 p.m., I decided I would go out and cut and glue some paper.  I had a wonderful time doing that as I remember the experience.  About 9:45 or so I decided I would call it a night.  I sort of made my desk a bit more tidy and checked the heat/air, turned off the tv and went to the door.  I turned the knob, only to realize it was locked.  The Girl had locked the knob not realizing I was in there.  Okay, so did I mention that the door locks from the carport side?   Uh huh.  So I stand there for a minute and think, “Oh my goodness.   What am I going to do?”  My cell phone is on the kitchen counter.  Inside the house.  Keep in mind that The Husband and The Girl are potentially asleep by now.  The Husband usually goes to sleep in his recliner and let me tell you, if Gabriel comes to blow that trumpet while The Husband is asleep, he’d better blow loud and long to wake The Husband.  The Girl’s room is a ways down the hall away, far from the “studio” with the door shut and the tv going.  So I consider.  I bang on the wall nearest the den.  Of course, it's not right at the den as there's the other half of the screened porch between the wall and the den door.  I bang and bang and begin to shout, “Help”.  Nothing.  I bang some more screaming “Help”.  Again nothing.

I stop and think another minute.  Okay so I have heat/air and I have a 30 year old La-Z-boy recliner that is most comfortable so I technically can have a good night’s sleep here.  When everyone wakes in the morning and breakfast is not cooked, they will miss me.  It will be okay.  Then I remember.  A necessity.  Every 50 something year old woman has to have a bathroom accessible during the night.  It’s a MUST.  And my studio has NO bathroom facility.  So I bang on the wall yet again.  Nothing but quiet.  And then I do what someone else might have done earlier.  I panicked.  Big time.  PANIC.  I'm shaking all over as I go to raise the blind and begin to raise the window.  I get it raised then stick my head out into the dark and yell again “Help!”  I’m contemplating trying to get my body that is larger than the window opening out of the window when the door to the room opens.

Ah….I turned around with panicked eyes and see The Girl standing there.  “Mama, what is WRONG?  We kept hearing a bumping noise.”  Well duh….a bumping noise?  I was hitting harder than a bump. Wrong?  What is "wrong"?  What a ridiculous question.  I walk to the door and see The Husband, awake, standing in the kitchen/carport door smiling.  Awake.  And SMILING.  How dare he?  Still very upset, I reply quietly, “You locked the door and I couldn’t get out.  I was afraid you were all asleep.  And my cell phone was on the kitchen counter.”  I was near tears.  And for me, that’s pretty panicked.  The Girl just looked at me with sympathy, and said, “What’s wrong with THAT phone?” as she eyed the working landline phone on the studio bookcase.  Duh.  Ah.  Mind slip.  Big time. 

I went in without a word and went to bed.  Panic is exhausting.  Especially when one is aging.  ;-) Needless to say, the next night, The Husband changed the knob so it wouldn’t lock from the outside. Sadly, he said  I wasn’t necessarily safe alone there with the knob left as it was. 

I’ve decided that even a slight amount of aging can really slip one’s mind into distress on occasion.  But it’s as I always told The Girl, “This, too, shall pass.”  Eventually.  ;-)

Are you there yet?

TECHNICAL DIFFICULTIES

We are experiencing technical difficulties.  Please stand by.  We’ve all seen that on our TV screens or heard it on our radios.   For sure, it ALWAYS happens right in the middle of an exciting show.  Never fails.

For the past couple of weeks, my computer has been giving me the warning that “your startup disk is almost full”…..then “your startup disk is full”.   Well, all of you who know me well know that I am not a computer guru.   Not even close.  Not even in the ball park.  If you thought I was a computer guru, sorry, you were wrong.  I get excessively stressed inside when I try to deal with such difficulties.

Rewind to 2008.  I had saved my $5 bills for two years in anticipation of spending them for a laptop Macbook computer.  I did that very thing.   I wanted to take my $5 bills into the Apple store and pay in cash, but The Girl said that might not be a very good idea.   She said the cashier AND the people in line behind me would probably do something very not nice.   To me.  So I didn’t pay in cash.  But I happily brought that computer home and learned enough to do what I wanted to do with it.  Mainly send and receive emails and store and edit photos.  And all of you who know me well know that most likely the majority of the time included dealing with my photographs.  Many, many photographs.  I love iphoto and I love taking and working with my photos.

After the happy/sad church service on Sunday, we went to Red Lobster for lunch—it’s our comfort food place.  I enjoyed the four course special which included Key Lime Pie for dessert which I could eat without too much guilt.  Then I came home to put my baptizing photos on my computer.  This was the beginning of sorrows and extreme technical difficulty.  That little startup disk warning wouldn’t stop.  My photos wouldn’t all load.  I was distressed and began to try to find the problem.   For a non-computer-guru, that is not an easy task.  I got out my trusty reference guide, "Macbook for Dummies”.  I spent until 9 p.m. trying....and trying...and trying.  Never did get all the photos loaded.  I did discover with the ones I did load that all I took with my short lens had a fuzzy, foggy spot in the center from the humidity.  Gloom.  Despair.  Agony.   The good news in that is that I think I can edit and make that okay.

I went to cardio yesterday morning for physical stress relief and came home again to the computer.   After researching, trying, researching, trying again, finally last night at about 9:30, I decided I was just going to have to call Apple and pay somebody to help me technically get my computer back on track.  That thought was painful to my pocketbook, but I was at the point of no other choice. 

During all this time, I did learn how to find out how much space is on my hard disk.  I wasn’t overly familiar with how to do that before.   Bad news is that it said there was very little free space.  So this morning I tried to call early.  Apple was not open at 5:30 a.m. so I again for one last time before calling got out my Macbook for Dummies  and sat at my computer.   I kept deleting photos but wasn’t seeing them in the trash.   Then I noticed.  I NOTICED.  There was a trash icon on my iphoto!!!  I NEVER saw it before.   Ever.  So I referred again to my Macbook for Dummies book and alas!  All the photos one deletes from their iphoto do not go in the regular trash but in the iphoto trash for safekeeping should one want to bring them back out.  Really?  REALLY?

Okay, so we’re getting somewhere now.  I began to be hopeful.   Uh huh.  You all know I take a lot of photos but you have no clue how many.   I had 11,000+ on my regular iphoto that I’m not ready to delete.  In my iphoto trash after it FINALLY loaded so I could see, I had 28,983 photos.  That’s almost 40,000 photos on my computer!  No wonder there was not space!  Unreal.  It took that iphoto trash 10 minutes to empty.

I was a bit apprehensive as I clicked to check the space on the hard disk afterwards.  Amazing!  It was a phenomenal decline and I have a boatload of space now.  I can’t tell you how I felt when I saw that.  It was like I had held my breath for hours and finally released it.  It was a relief.  Oh my goodness.   And I didn't have to pay for the advice!   I have just loaded my 300+ baptizing photos and they loaded fast and easy.  I am ready to edit and do my baptizing photo thing.  I am excited!  Ahhhhh……. I will daily empty two computer trash cans so my computer can run effectively. 

Now all that was probably not that interesting to you….especially if you ARE a computer guru.  You are probably rolling your eyes at my not-a-computer-guru status.  That’s okay with me.  I’ve decided I like to write so I thought I’d make it a blog entry anyways.  

When The Husband and I talk about things sometimes, I will make the comment “There’s a sermon in that somewhere.”  And I think we can find sermons in a lot of things in life.  I know there’s one or more sermons in this story of non-interesting  computer problems.  

I’m not going to elaborate on a sermon.  I’m going to leave that to your thoughts and imagination.  There’s one there.   You ponder it.  I have photos to edit!

YAY!!!! 

CHANGE

Change.   Sometimes you love it.  Sometimes you don’t.   Some people long for it.  Some people dread it.   Change.  Change can be happy.  Change can be sad.

My trusted online Google dictionary defines change as “the act or instance of making or becoming different.”   Different.  Not the same as another or each other. 

I think in some form or fashion we are all creatures of habit.  Face it, I like to sleep on the right side of the bed, literally.  If I sleep on the left side, my whole system is off and I sleep worse than I sleep already.  I’ve attributed this faulty sleep pattern to the aging process.  I don’t like pork tenderloin for breakfast.  Pork is fine but I prefer bacon and can eat sausage even though my lipids don’t need any of it.  I have several clothes in my closet that are nice, but I wear the same thing day after day or at least every other day.  Why?  Well, it’s comfortable. 

Ah….comfort.  Change, at first, can be uncomfortable.  And we all do love our comfort zones, don’t we?  My name is at the top list.  Life is one of those things that you can always count on to bring some kind of change.  There's really no way around it.  It's just what "life" does. 

I can tell you that The Girl has NEVER really liked change and has always been sort of a homebody.  And I don’t say that in a negative, bad way.   It’s just how some people are.  She was apprehensive to go away to college, but once she got there, she had a wonderful time getting her education.  Her parents explained that was the main reason one went to college—to get an education to aid in one's adult life.  The fringe benefits of making lifelong friends and social time was a bonus.  So, yes, once she got there and got accustomed to the change, she was just fine.

Then she got married.  Another change.  I think she has arrived in her own comfort zone in her own home with her own husband now at this point in time.  There’s still those little things, though, that she finds changed that she has to grow into.   For instance, The Girl and The Son-In-Law were eating supper with us a week or so back and she was looking for some sort of pan or bowl or something in the kitchen and it was NOT in the place that she was accustomed to before she moved.  I told her I moved some things around and got rid of some kitchen stuff.  Huh.  I could tell she was a bit put out.  Then she went to the refrigerator to get the butter and was looking and looking and finally asked where it was.  I told her up in the door.   She said, “Huh, you MOVED the butter?”  Distressed.   Yes, change can make one distressed.  I calmly explained that insulin had been in that spot for 21 years and now that insulin was gone, it looked empty and something had to go there.  Butter is what fit.  Duh.  The Son-In-Law got this look in his eye and said,     “Aahhhhhh.  CChannnngggee….”  It was a wonderfully funny moment.  It took a minute but The Girl finally saw the humor.  ;-)

Yesterday, our sweet pastor told us that his time at our church as pastor had come to a close.  Certainly not a change that our congregation wanted to hear.  I’m pretty sure there was not a dry eye in the building.  Being a PK (pastor’s kid), I know the pain of leaving a church where you have been loved and accepted.  Many times I remember pulling away for the last time as that pastor’s family and crying and crying in the back seat while my parents cried in the front.   When I married and stayed at my church while my parents and sister left as pastor’s family, I knew the feeling of both kinds of sadness at the same time.   So yesterday I could relate to the pain of a church family AND the pain of a pastor’s family.   Been there and done that more than I wanted to.  Not a fun feeling.

I know that just as God sent Doug and Patty to us those years ago when our church didn’t even know them and they didn’t even know us, God proved His faithfulness to us as a church congregation and poured out blessings to us that we thrived on and enjoyed for those years.  I have learned from Doug and Patty by their examples how to serve better, how to worship better, how to trust better, and how to love better.  If I haven’t learned this, it is a sadder day than I ever thought.  I will grow stronger because of these examples.  I pray that the Lord will provide Doug and Patty some time to concentrate on recovery and rest without added church responsibilities.  And I have faith that the Lord will provide the next pastor that we need as we continue on as a church and church family.

Life will give me more changes and not always those that I like.  The one thing I am sure of is that God is in control and the scriptures say that He NEVER changes and NEVER will.   If I trust Him, and I do, I know He will again supply the needs I have.  He promised. 

“But my God shall supply all your need according to his riches in glory by Christ Jesus.”  Philippians 4:19

 

BLESSINGS

Preacher Dan’s wife, Mae, gave an humble testimony at the end of morning revival service today.  She spoke of wanting to thank the Lord for “blessings” and how the Lord has provided for her in her life and the direction that it has gone.   Her words got me to thinking about blessings. 

The Google online dictionary gives a definition of blessings as “God’s favor and protection.” 

I am constantly aware of the “obvious” blessings—salvation, family, food, house, church—you know what I mean, I am sure.  The rain we have gotten here the past three nights has been a huge natural blessing.   The ground around here was mighty thirsty. 

One of my favorite movies is “Pollyanna”.  If you haven’t seen it, you should.  It’s a great old family movie starring one of my favorite childhood actresses, Haley Mills, as the main character.  Pollyanna, an orphan with nothing, has gone to live with her rich aunt who has many “material blessings” but doesn’t recognize those other blessings that mean more.  I won’t tell you about the movie much in case you haven’t seen it, but I will say that Pollyanna, though “poor”, had a wonderful, positive, glad disposition.  She liked to play the “Glad Game”.   She would always want to find something to be glad about in every situation, even situations where glad was not even a way to describe anything remotely close to the situation.   

I’ve found that I often have to MAKE myself take that Pollyanna approach and find something to be glad about.  As I was thinking of all this while I ate my leftover lunch of dressing, cranberry sauce, and green beans, I even looked at my meal with a different eyes.  I reminded myself that I was eating dressing that was prepared from cornbread made with my special soy milk and gluten free bread.  The DELICIOUS cranberry sauce reminded me of the blessing of a new son-in-law who loves cranberry sauce as much as I do.  No one in my household ever went near cranberry sauce before and I felt alone in my love for cranberry sauce.  He and I were thrilled to discover that we both believe a poultry/dressing meal is not complete without cranberry sauce.   I found the blessing of a good lunch--even the green beans tasted better today than they did a couple of nights ago.   And yes, I’m about to scrub a tub and clean a house (Ugh)  but you know, at least I have one to scrub and clean. 

So I will challenge you as I challenge myself to be more aware of blessings that you might not normally be aware of.  Find something to be glad about in every situation.  I would imagine if you try to count blessings, you, like me, will run out of numbers.   The list goes on and on and on………and on and on and on.......

Oh, and consider renting the movie, "Pollyanna".  You’ll be GLAD you did.  J

REVIVAL

Eventually, as my two regular blog readers will be glad to hear, I will not always have to make novels my posts.  It’s just that I get things on my mind and like to type them out.  You two regular blog readers get to enjoy.  J

In the online dictionary, the definition of revival as it applies to my post is

a. A time of reawakened interest in religion.

b. A meeting or series of meetings for the purpose of reawakening religious faith, often characterized by impassioned preaching and public testimony.

c.  A restoration to use, acceptance, activity, or vigor after a period of obscurity or quiescence.

Here in my area, revivals typically occur twice a year, once in the spring and again in the summer.  These can go for a week of anywhere from two to six nights or can go for seven days twice a day.  Uh huh.  Really.  When I began to attend my church in 1974, it was the first church I had ever attended that did summer revival two times a day.  Kind of like a camp meeting except camp meeting folks go three times a day.  And yes, I’m still there.  ;-)  And I go twice a day.  Since then.  I have great memories of those particular twice a day services.  I can remember especially in addition to those spiritual services, the past “Youth Choir Days”.  My buddy in crime and I led this choir of children from ages four to twelve.  (Scary that those children will probably be at revival with their own children now.  How time flies!)  We would set a particular day during revival week for this special day.  The children would come to one of our houses (we alternated years) after the morning service, we would feed them lunch, play games with them, feed them supper, give them baths, and take them back to night service.  Sometimes there were 12+ of these children.   And the choir would sing both services.  We certainly were younger then and one might say, foolish?  But it made for great memories for us and the children. 

Anyways, as I always do when I write these things, I get off track from my original idea.  Sorry.  Back to the original idea.  In my opinion, there are two really important things about revival.  The most important is salvation for one who is “lost” and the other is the reviving of the others of us who just need “a restoration”.   

Many denominations have different ways of invitations to accept the Lord as Savior.  In my Baptist church, the invitation is given and one prays, believes, and obtains salvation.  So the purpose of this post is to write down my salvation experience, experience of grace, or testimony—whatever you might call it. I can only tell you for sure what I have experienced....everyone else's  is here-say and they must tell their own, so here's what I know to be mine.

I’m a PK….preacher’s kid.  I have gone to church more than most kids, I would imagine, as one had to be REALLY sick at my parents’ house to miss church.  No excuses.  My daddy pastored several churches.  It was at the third church he pastored that I first heard Jesus calling me to be saved.  It’s like our pastor says when he asked his mama how he would know he was “lost”, she would say, “You’ll just KNOW.”  And that is right.  I just KNEW.   But the problem was that I was shy or stubborn or both and didn’t want anybody else to know.  I thought I was really good at keeping quiet, acting normal--you get the idea.  My parents knew all along.  Of course they did.  I would try to get out of going to church or try to get my mama to let me go to the bathroom before altar call.  I don’t remember for sure but I’m imagine she would tell me to “hold it” till after church.  I just wanted church to be over.

It was the spring revival of my 9 year old year on a Wednesday night.  I sat about halfway back and my heart was beating so fast.   I determined during the preaching that as soon as they started singing the invitation song, I was going to the altar.   And I did.  Simply did.  I got down on my knees at the altar.  I remember it being a whitish vinyl covered altar and I just prayed, “Lord save me.”  Just me and Him talking.  I just believed.   I got a peaceful feeling and knew that was it.  It was all I needed to give me a relationship with the Lord and a home in heaven.  I still have it today, 47 years later.  In our Baptist faith, we believe that "once saved, always saved."   

It was a bit after that my school teacher told my parents that she didn’t think I could see the board well.  She was right.  I had bad eyesight and didn’t realize.  My daddy took me to get glasses and I remember the day we picked them up.  We had to go after that to get his drivers’ license renewed.  As we came out of the State Patrol office I looked out over that area and saw every leaf on every tree.  Sharp.  I was amazing at how clear my vision was with glasses.   As I have matured, I realize that my salvation is a lot like that…..like the song, Amazing Grace…..was blind but now I see. 

I was baptized in a large lake.  I remember when I put my feet with those white anklet socks in the water, my feet sunk in that lake mud.  I was scared but my daddy held on to me.  (He and I both were a lot skinnier back then....and I loved his bow tie!)

The choice to answer the call of the Lord has been the best I ever made.   I wish I could say I have always lived in a close relationship with him but I have not.   It’s easy to look back and see times I should have trusted more, loved more, and given more but I have a Heavenly Father who knows me and yet loves me just as I am.  I think that the older one becomes, the sweeter the Lord and that relationship becomes.   

So next week, I will enjoy our revival.  Maybe sharing this testimony that is mine has given me a jump start.   I feel revived just thinking about it!

“For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life.”  John 3:16

Amen.

BIRDS

I used to not pay any attention to birds.  None.  At all.  Then one day all that changed.  I was standing at my kitchen window and watched as a mother bird sat on my porch rail with a long worm in her mouth, then I watched as she flew it to her babies in a nest in my flower pot.  It was at that moment that I knew my not-paying-attention-to-birds would be no more.  It was if God spoke to me in that moment and said,” If that little bird can go out and find that nice meal for her children, you can be assured that I will take care of you.”  Okay so I should have been more of a Bible reader and I would have known that was in the Bible….Matthew chapter 6.  It was just one of those moments where I just “knew” that God was speaking to me.  So my love of birds and watching birds was born.

I’ve taken photos of birds….sat for long times on my porch with my camera just waiting and watching. 

I’ve learned to listen to birds and how they chirp.  Happy sounds.  Warning sounds. Communicating sounds.

I have been delighted time and time again by watching birds build nests….yes, even in my porch plants.

Our yard now has a bird bath—thanks to my birthday last year and the wonderful idea of a bird bath for my birthday gift from my family.

I’ve decided one can never have too many bird feeders. 

Last year I was in my favorite potter’s shop buying a wedding gift when I noticed an unusual piece of pottery.   After questioning what it was used for, I was told it was a wren house.  He showed me his that was hung on his porch and told me a bit about the wrens.  Uh huh.  You guessed it.   I had to have one for me.  That day.  I brought it home, The Husband hung it on my porch so I could see from my dining room window and I watched.  I didn’t have to watch long because in a couple of days, the wrens in my neighborhood had found that wonderful house of clay.  Amazing.  No other word to describe how that little bird filled that clay house with twigs, grass, and other safe goods made by God as she prepared for her little ones. 

I continued to watch as the eggs hatched and that bird brought food to the babies.  The wren has a distinctive sound so I would know when the food was coming because I could hear the sound of the adult bird.   I researched the time frame so maybe I could see them fly.   I did not get to see the babies leave the nest but was able to see them on my porch swing and then watch as they jumped to their new life into my hydrangea bush.  Amazing. 

Not too long ago, the wrens again inhabited the clay house, using the twigs and such already there.  I again determined when the birds would hatch and how long they would stay there.   This time I could actually sit on my porch chair and watch the mother bird bring in the food and hear the little ones making their little bird sounds. She didn’t care that I watched.   Amazing.  I kept a close watch from my dining room window until one night after supper, I realized those little birds had gotten closer to the clay house door.  I watched for about 45 minutes as the mother bird kept bringing in the food time after time, diligently, to the little ones and I watched as their mouths would open and she would feed.  I feared they were getting too close to the door and my mind would scream, “Get back, you’re going to fall out!”  Even once or twice the mother bird would push them back as she fed.  I finally decided they were back in safety and walked away from the window for a few minutes.  As I came back into the kitchen I walked to the window and….oh no!   There was one little bird hanging on to the perch and another on the perch and one looking out of the opening.   Again I stood at the window with my mind screaming, “Oh no!  Oh no!  Don’t fall!  Oh no!”  (Really I’m not exaggerating….it was traumatic.)  Then that little bird turned loose, flopped it’s wings a time or two, and landed on the porch and began hopping around the porch.  The other one on the perch did the same while the one watching stayed where he was.  The two little ones hopped on to the edge of the porch near the hydrangea and before I knew it, they had hopped right off into it and their lives began.  I continued watching that final little bird gather it’s courage and hop right off, too, following his siblings to his life.   Amazing. 

The Lord truly delighted me that day by allowing me to watch the miracle of these birds.  No, I don’t understand why the male red birds are brighter and prettier than the females.  No, I don’t understand why some birds are predators and some are not.  But I do understand that the Lord wanted to teach me about my life through these birds.   

One of my favorite songs, “The Sparrow”, is sang by a duet at my church.  Every time I hear the song, I am touched because the lyrics encourage me.  It goes like this:

Early morning sunshine, dew is on the ground.


The singing of a sparrow makes a joyful sound.


It's the song of strength and endurance, giving me assurance,


That Jesus is near, when hope cannot be found.



Sometimes I am strong, and others I am weak.


It's a struggle to become what I really need to be.


I worry about tomorrow until I hear the sparrow,


And I'm reminded of the promise He'll take care of me.



The sparrow never worries where to get supplies.


He just flies until he finds it, under God's watchful eye.


And if the Lord can know so closely, the simple pathways of a bird,


Will He not provide His children, protection from this world?



So I'll sing because I'm happy.


And I'll sing because I'm free,


For His eye is on the sparrow


And I know He watches me.

So I will keep watching, listening, and learning from the birds.  And that gives me great joy!