A FLAG

Today after morning church service and an order of French fries at McDonald’s, The Husband and I attended a funeral service for the dad of a friend of ours.  An American flag was spread over the coffin, signifying that the friend’s dad had served in the armed forces.   The friend’s dad was 87 years old when he passed away.  He and his wife had lived in a local nursing home together.  The widow was at the service, sitting in a wheelchair being consoled and cared for by our friend, her youngest son.  It was a poignant sight. 

The Husband and I were sitting somewhat near the front, much nearer than we had planned, but when we arrived my parents were sitting there and of course motioned us to sit with them.  The Husband, being still not healed from his roof fall, had thought of sitting in the back in case the pain worsened and he would need to go outside.  But, alas, we sat near the front instead.  Sitting there gave me a clear view of the sweet widowed woman.   Throughout the service as I watched the widow and her son and his loving care of her, I found myself getting a bit teary-eyed.

At the end of the service before going to the cemetery outside for the committal, the funeral directors began to fold the flag.  (It was way too cold for the widow to be outside so they chose to do it inside.)  I watched as they carefully folded the flag exactly right—with respect the flag, the deceased, and the widow deserved.   After the flag was folded, the funeral director kindly stood in front of that sweet woman in the wheelchair, held the flag out to her, and said, “Our country today has many problems, but it is still the greatest country in the world.  Many years ago your husband joined the Army, served, and fought for the freedoms we enjoy today.  We present to you this flag today in honor and thanks for that service.”    The woman’s little frail arms reached out to take it and she held it with love.

Now, I’m going to tell you the truth.  Being a preacher’s kid, I would imagine I have been to more funerals in my lifetime than a lot of you.  No brag, just fact.  And I have seen many, many things before, during, and after funerals that made me teary-eyed, some things that put me in shock, and some things that I think, "Really?"  But today, I kid you not, as I sat there with a clear view of this scene today, it GOT me. I mean it REALLY got me.   I bawled like baby.  Right there on that pew.  Something about it just tore my heart you know?  And I couldn’t help it.  I boo-hooed.

The Girl went to college at North Georgia College and State University, the Military College of Georgia, and while she was not involved in the corps, she had many friends who were.  She has many sorority sisters and friends who married the military guys and now live the military life with their families.  These girls take care of their kids while the men are fighting in Afghanistan and other places, not unlike any other military wife.   Shucks, some of the guys take care of the kids while their wives fight for our country.  In the past most have returned safe and sound but some have not.  Some have returned very wounded and changed for life….stories of courage and honor that would break your heart.  And all this happened WHILE they were fighting for ME and YOU. 

Things in this country will never be perfect,--none of us or our lives will ever be perfect until we get to heaven.  I think of the “God” principles this country was founded on all those many years ago.  I think of all those who have lost their lives fighting to protect our freedoms that we so enjoy.  Most days I fear the direction our country is going, but I am assured that my Lord and Savior who holds all our futures in his grip has it all under control.  Faith and trust is mine to do.  My prayer is that our country does get back to trusting the Lord, praying to Him, and building a spiritual relationship with HIM. 

I will close with the scripture which most comes to mind:

“If my people, which are called by my name, shall humble themselves, and pray, and seek my face, and turn from their wicked ways; then will I hear from heaven, and will forgive their sin, and will heal their land.”  II Chronicles 7:14

I pray for THAT kind of healing.

Amen.

APPRECIATION

My online dictionary defines “appreciation” as a recognition of the quality, value, significance, or magnitude of people and things; a judgment or opinion, especially a favorable one; an expression of gratitude; a rise in value or price, especially over time. 

Many of you know that this time last year our family was in the throes of wedding planning for The Girl and her fiancée.  Decisions and more decisions go along with planning a wedding.  One of the important ones is the wedding cake.  A day was planned to go “tasting”.  Now let me tell you—wedding cake tasting is a lot of fun. 

 You can eat cake on and on without ANY guilt....

One of the stops on our tasting route was with with a cake baker who lived north of here—out in the rural areas of a neighboring northern county.  She had no big storefront as others did, but worked out of her kitchen set up in a little house in her yard.  

And her skills as she showed us options….I mean really showed us options by doing decorating right there while we sat and watched.  

It doesn’t take a big building in the city to have a successful business.  She’s proof of that and our appreciation for her cake is as well.  Let me tell you….I was impressed.  That cake melted in my mouth.  Delicious.

If you need her business information for your own needs, let me know and I'll supply.

We decided to “trade” with her and made a contract.  She was to make a tiered wedding cake, a small sugar free two tiered wedding cake, and a groom’s cake that looked like the Auburn University stadium.  The stadium cake was designed from an emailed photo.  Uh huh.  One has to be exceptionally talented to make a cake from a photograph, especially with such detail.  She did not disappoint.  Beautiful and delicious.  They looked like this:

The next week I was to return her silver pedestals and I did that early on in the week.  I had to stop on the way a couple of times and wake myself up as the lack of sleep during the wedding planning months had begun to catch up with me and I was feeling a "crash" of my body.  When I arrived she wasn’t home, so I left them where she had instructed.  As I was about to leave, she pulled up in her driveway.

Did I mention that The Cake Baker had been diagnosed with cancer a couple of months before the wedding?  I thought not.  She had begun her chemo and was going wig shopping later on that day.  We stood in her driveway, talked, cried, hugged, and bonded.  The Cake Baker has become The Cake Baker Friend to me.  A friendship was formed that day and I have been blessed beyond measure to know her.  She is an encouraging person who treasures every minute of life, loves the Lord, and recognizes blessings.  She has truly been such an inspiration to me.  Our friendship has grown and I am filled with an attitude of gratitude.

The Cake Baker Friend had a regularly scheduled cancer scan a couple of weeks ago and she reported to me this morning that all had remained clear!  I believe in prayer.  I believe in praying for God’s will.  The Lord’s Prayer in Matthew says to do that.  There are times, though, when my idea of a good answer is not necessarily God’s will.  I try always to give thanks for the good and the bad as the scriptures say “in EVERYTHING give thanks” but that is admittedly hard sometimes.  Whenever the answer comes to pass and is the one I wanted, my cup overflows.  So today, my cup overflows. 

The Cake Baker Friend has a saying at the end of her emails that I’d like to share because I think it is something we all can learn from…it goes like this:

“Thank you Lord for the rough things in life, for they opened my eyes to the good things I wasn’t paying attention to before”. 

And I say, “Amen.”

GRACE

Ah……grace.  I could write and write for days and still not cover grace.  Grace is rightly described by most of us as amazing for sure.  The Merriam-Webster dictionary defines “grace” as “unmerited divine assistance given humans for their regeneration or sanctification; a virtue coming from God; a special favor.”  I say that grace is God giving us something good when we deserve just the opposite.  There is nothing to be done to earn grace.  It is a gift for sure.

I once heard a preacher explain grace with this acronym:

God’s

Riches

At

Christ’s

Expense

I read a story the other day in a book by Charles Swindoll about Job.  Now that Job was a strong guy, wasn’t he?  He certainly endured more than any one I have ever heard.  I can’t imagine what Job went through and his example should give us encouragement in our lives when the going gets rough.  The story was about a professor who told his class that the final exam would cover all they had studied.  The young man relaying the story told how he studied and studied until he could study no more, still knowing he did not know it all.  On the day of the test, the students filed in to find the test papers lying face down on each desk.   When time came to begin, the professor told them to turn over their papers.  Each student turned over his paper to find the answers all written in correctly and an “A” written at the top of the test paper.  Incredulous, they all looked at the professor.  The professor then told them the creator of the test had taken it for them and they had just experienced “grace”.  

I read this book when I walk on my treadmill.  I am striving to lose twenty more pounds for my health’s sake.  It’s a challenge and I thought if I had a book to read it would help the time to pass quicker.  Plus I figured if I chose a religious book, it might aid in my effort.  I need all the help I can get. On the morning of the day I read that story, I was to meet a friend of mine from elementary school for lunch.  We reconnected in the past few weeks and planned a lunch together.  It was a wonderful time, just catching up.  After we had ordered our Chick-Fil-A meal, we began to talk about what we remembered about elementary school.  Now let me insert here that my memory is really nothing to brag about these days.  I told The Friend something that another friend had told me just last week.  The Other Friend was to have a meal with her best friend from elementary school who would pass through her city on occasion.  The Other Friend told me that she enjoyed the time with her friend so much because her friend remembered so many good stories from their elementary school days.  The Other Friend was like me—had a faulty memory about some things—but said that she enjoyed the stories so much as they were new to her.   Funny, huh? 

Anyways, back to my story.  As we were sitting there after ordering, we were remembering our 8^th grade year when the girls were in one class and the boys in another.  The girls had the principal’s wife as a teacher.  Everyone called her Miss Alice.  She seemed fairly up in years even then as she was also my mother’s teacher, if I remember correctly.  We have already established, though, that I don’t always remember correctly.  So The Friend was saying that she struggled with fractions and percentages so much that she was expecting to make her very first “C” in Math that year.  Well, I was finding that hard to believe as I knew she was always REALLY smart…I did remember that for sure.  She was telling me that the day came when we got report cards.  She peeked at hers and saw an “A” in Math.  She was in disbelief and was certain Miss Alice had made a mistake.  The Friend says she went up to the desk and said, “Excuse me, Miss Alice.  I think you made a mistake on my report card.”  Miss Alice questioned her as to why she thought such.   (I don’t think Miss Alice ever made mistakes…after all, she WAS the principal’s wife.) The Friend told her that she was pretty sure she had a “C” in math.  The Friend said Miss Alice just smiled and said, “For the past couple of weeks, you have worked hard and really improved in your math.  I thought you deserved an “A”.” 

So here we are sitting at Chick-Fil-A and I hear that story.  Immediately I said to The Friend, “That’s a wonderful example of grace!”  Well I said it excitedly as I had just read the story earlier that day about grace and now here was the Lord sending me another example!  I told The Friend the story.  It was one of those God-moments for sure.  I just love it when that happens.  I am certain God was trying to remind me of His wonderful grace.   It just gives me chills when the Lord is that open and easy to understand.  Or maybe He’s always that open and easy to understand.  Maybe I’m the one who is closed and difficult.  Maybe?  I would think that is the case.

I will close with the lyrics to “Amazing Grace/My Chains are Gone”.  Unending Love. Amazing Grace.

Amazing grace how sweet the sound

That saved a wretch like me

I once was lost, but now I'm found

Was blind, but now I see

'Twas grace that taught my heart to fear

And grace my fears relieved

How precious did that grace appear

The hour I first believed

My chains are gone, I've been set free

My God, my Savior has ransomed me

And like a flood His mercy rains

Unending love, amazing grace

  

The Lord has promised good to me

His word my hope secures

He will my shield and portion be

As long as life endures

My chains are gone, I've been set free

My God, my Savior has ransomed me

And like a flood His mercy rains

Unending love, amazing grace

The earth shall soon dissolve like snow

The sun forbear to shine

But God who called me here below

Will be forever mine, will be forever mine

You are forever mine.

And I say, “Amen.”

A SPECIAL BIRTHDAY

Well, it's ll:59 a.m. as I write....officially 32 years ago on this date at this time, my beautiful little girl appeared in this big world. Little did I know how much that would change the lives of The Husband and me.  Geez....I still get a bit teary just thinking about it.

I'll not give you any long, long explanation of all the ways The Girl has blessed our lives to this point.  There would not be enough room to write it all.  I will just say that our home has been blessed beyond measure with her presence.  God's big plan included no siblings for her so I think He made her extra, extra special....not your typical only child.    I'm sure I'm not the only one who would think this as she has touched so many lives in her 32 years.

So to The Girl, I say happy happy birthday and to the Lord above I say many, many thanks for blessing us so much.  We are so very undeserving of such joy.

Amen.

HEARTS OR FLOWERS?

February 14.  Valentine's Day.

For most of my younger life, I looked forward Valentine's Day as a day to send my friends cards with hearts on them.  Ah, the joy of a classroom filled with children, brown paper lunch bags decorated with hearts or doily hearts and filled with so many little envelopes with valentines inside, and the Valentine party in the afternoon.  Ah, the cupcakes, the red punch....do children still have those pleasures these days?  I remember I would look at my valentines over and over and over for days afterwards.

Fast forward to February 14, 1981, a Saturday night.  The Husband and I were "celebrating" the special day here at home with Italian food and a game.  I, two weeks away from my little one's due date, sat in one chair, he in the other with a table between....maybe it was Scrabble we played.  I wasn't feeling so perky that day.  Rightly so as the next day at noon, The Baby Girl arrived in the world.  After that, our celebrations kind of got prioritized a bit differently.

Here we are 32 years later, wishing each other greetings of the day as The Husband left for work this morning.  By mutual agreement, that will be enough celebration.  We've passed that hearts and flowers stage.  If you are still there, congratulations!  I'm happy for you.  It's all about what makes one happy.

As I began the turnaround to where the day was less important, I read a commentary in the local newspaper.  This was probably 20 years ago or so.  It was written by a wise woman named Judy Elliott and titled "More than Hearts and Flowers".  I want to quote her a bit in this article because, yes, I still have the copy and amazingly enough, I know where it is.  Here's some of her wise words that spoke to me:

"The 14th of February fell a week to the day after I married.  I rushed home from my teaching job, threw a clean cloth on a card table, tied red streamers on my new husband's chair and popped up an 8 x 10 Valentine by his plate.  Then I waited for him to burst through the door, a bouquet of red roses in his arms.  I threw together a heart-shaped chocolate cake from a mix and squirted red icing on the top.  Newly-wed dessert with high expectations.

Finally, my groom showed up, a little late, but worth the wait I told myself.  He took one look at the table and blanched white.  He had forgotten it was Valentine's Day.  No card.  No flowers. No candy.  I was crushed.  He tried making polite conversation but I wasn't having any part of it.  I dished up his dinner like it was prison food, plopped down in my folding chair and answered his "What's wrong?" question with all the maturity of a 22 year old bride.  "Nothing,"  I sniffled.  "Absolutely nothing."  I pouted for three days, played the martyr and made both of us miserable..........

.....Seven years went by before, walking a sick baby in the night, I realized it was Cupid's day and I had forgotten to get him a valentine.  It was his chance to whine, but he didn't.   By then we were way past a candlelight dinner...I was scrubbing Gerber's oatmeal off the kitchen floor and he was taking his turn folding diapers.  If he had brought flowers home, I would have had a sinking spell, knowing we needed the money to pay the pediatrician.......

....The same fella who forgot to remember me with a card on our first Valentine's Day together turned out to be a man who saw me through my mother's final illness and never left my side at her funeral.  He rocked babies with earaches and drove carpools to Brownie meetings.  All told, he probably spent four years of his life sitting on bleachers, watching swim meets and tennis matches.  And when I had an operation, he stretched out on the uncomfortable chair by my bed and stayed at the hospital.

He'll never surprise me with a diamond ring in a box of Cracker Jacks...and he's yet to mention I can no longer fit into a size 8 dress.  I'm a slow learner, but I finally realized it takes more than chocolate, valentines or roses to take care of the heart."

I think Judy Elliott said it well and described my feelings totally.  I am truly blessed to have a jewel of a valentine like that in The Husband and I recognize that blessing.

And more importantly, I am blessed to have the love of all loves of a heavenly Father daily and forever.

Amen.

CONSTRUCTING AN ATTITUDE OF GRATITUDE

So I decided to not consult Mr. Webster or Mr. American Heritage to find the definition of construction.  After all, I grew up in a constructor's household and married a constructor.  We all know what it means, maybe not on a grand dictionary definition scale but it's simply "build".  And I'll bet many of my friends know where this post is going.

Some days it's easy to build an attitude of gratitude.  Other days we tend to forget about all the things we are to be thankful for.  I don't know without looking it up where it is in the scriptures --somewhere in the New Testament--, but I'm sure the scriptures say that "in EVERYTHING give thanks."  It doesn't say in every GOOD thing give thanks but in EVERYTHING give thanks.  And that's even for the bad stuff.  Hard to construct an attitude of gratitude during the I-don't-know-how-I'm-going-to-make-it-through-this time of life.

The Husband has been working on his garage lately.  He started out doing it alone.  I will say that The Husband is a hard worker and once he is focused on a project, he works and works and works without asking for help.  When I asked him in the beginning how much it might cost to hire someone to do it, he gave me one of those looks any wife would recognize that looked like the wife might have grown many horns on her head.  Needless to say, he answered nothing.

So he worked and worked on Fridays and Saturdays and as time went on, he had friends that helped....The Brother-in-Law, The Fishing Buddy, and The Fishing Buddy's Brother.  I told The Husband that he had some REALLY good friends.  And he agreed.

This past Saturday The Husband, The Fishing Buddy, and The Fishing Buddy's Brother were working together and were winding down the workday and putting felt on the roof.  The Fishing Buddy, being afraid of heights, was not on the roof but the other two were on the roof.  I looked out of the window at the progress, saw them there, entertained the thought that they really were pretty old to be doing such, and went to the kitchen.  About 5-10 minutes later, The Fishing Buddy came running in and told me to call 911.  The Husband had fallen off the roof.  My worst fear...a gut feeling I had for weeks and there it was.  Happened.  Just like I feared.

The most amazing thing is that I kept my composure even though I was shaking inside and did what I needed to and answered questions asked.  The 911 dispatcher told me to go out to the guys and answer her questions.  I had not realized The Fishing Buddy's Brother had fallen also.  Seems the felt had come loose and both guys started to slide quickly.  The Fishing Buddy's Brother was sitting on the trailer holding a bleeding hand.  The Husband was lying on the ground on a 2 x 4 between the garage and and the trailer.  Both were awake and talking which helped my feelings a good bit.  I called for The Girl and The Son-In-Law who came quickly.  If we ever doubted The Girl is a Daddy's girl, all that doubt is gone.  She was not happy her daddy had fallen from the roof.  Duh.  The Son-In-Law was a rock and I felt so blessed he was there with his calmer composure.

The paramedics came quickly and long story short, transported both guys to the hospital closest with a trauma center.  They said falling from a 13' high roof was very much a trauma.  The Fishing Buddy's Brother got 6-7 stitches in his palm and a tetanus shot and was released.  He wanted to stay to hear from The Husband but I sent him home.  I was so sorry he fell.  So sorry.

As for The Husband, he was scanned from head to toe and had a rib break and another small bone break with bruises and contusions...more than one.  He's been home and I've been his shadow since Saturday night.  Did I say that yesterday he coughed and broke yet another rib?    I know he's growing weary of it but be assured--my attention will continue.  The Husband now walks with a cane and is up walking a good bit.  He does weary quickly.  I don't think he enjoys being at home all the time, but has very little choice in the matter.  His nurse is strict, you understand?

So with all of this, I have learned to build my attitude of gratitude.  Saturday could have been a day that changed our lives forever, but so far, I feel The Husband and The Fishing Buddy's Brother will heal. In time.  Don't folks say that time is a healer?  That's certainly been proven time and time again.

I relive the Saturday afternoon and am grateful for friends who help.  I did explain to The Fishing Buddy's Brother that he proved my point of "no good deed goes unpunished".  I'm grateful that the Husband and The Fishing Buddy's Brother are not exceptionally badly hurt.  I'm grateful that The Husband so far has listened to me and accepted my "nursing skills". I'm grateful that the EMS got here quickly and were caring.  The list is endless.

Maybe one might say I should wonder why God allowed such to happen.  Couldn't He have stopped it?  Sure He could have.  But I have enough faith in my God to know that He sees the whole big picture and does what's best for us.  That's where faith comes in.  And of course, we have to mention the grace and mercy that follow.  I hope that this week and forevermore I will have the attitude of gratitude for EVERYTHING and give thanks to the Lord for taking care of us in His way.

Some days I might wish I could see the future but when I consider that, I realize I really don't want to know.  It's enough to know the ONE who holds the future.  That's enough for me.  I'll just continue on one day at a time.

SNOW

My trusted Mr. Webster's online dictionary's definition of snow was not as glamorous as the American Heritage Dictionary's definition.  So, wanting snow to be exciting and glamorous, I chose the American Heritage definition which says:

Snow -- Frozen precipitation in the form of white or translucent hexagonal ice crystals that fall in soft, white flakes.

Sounds pretty, doesn't it?  What is it about snow that brings out the childhood wonder in most of us--even as we age?  I think it's the whiteness of it all.  Purity.  Beauty.  A good reason to stay home.

With our hopes built for a nice snow today, even while our realism knows it will probably be just a sprinkling if any, I decided you blog readers might enjoy some picture reminders of recent years of beautiful whiteness.

In the summer, a crop of blueberries will grow here.

Blue sky and white trees...what a combination of "colors"!

The Girl's childhood sled....a classic.

See, it still runs nicely.

An Auburn University snowman....War Eagle!  (I learned this unfamiliar way of speaking from the Son-In-Law.)

This is sparkly bling snow....

A snow angel......

So we'll see what the day holds.  Maybe we should all do as us Southerners do at the "threat" of snow....hit the grocery stores for that gallon of milk and loaf of bread...just in case.  We can hope, can't we?

Happy Snow Day....maybe!  

PAIN

Pain:  a state of physical, emotional, or mental lack of well-being or physical, emotional, or mental uneasiness that ranges from mild discomfort or dull distress to acute often unbearable agony, may be generalized or localized, and is the consequence of being injured or hurt physically or mentally or of some derangement of or lack of equilibrium in the physical or mental functions (as through disease), and that usually produces a reaction of wanting to avoid, escape, or destroy the causative factor and its effects

So wow, quite an impressive definition from our friend, Mr. Webster! 

As I was looking in the attic the other day, I was reminded that one of my faithful blog readers had asked for the story of the “fall through my attic”.  So being the first of a new year, I decided to be nice and oblige her. The “incident” happened about 26 years ago.  After the calculator calculated my age, I realized I was probably the age The Girl is now.  How about that?  Fun, huh? 

It’s a simple Sunday afternoon in November.  The Husband was doing his Sunday afternoon thing of napping occasionally with the remote in hand and feet propped in the recliner.  The girl, young one that she was, was most likely playing with her “babies” in her room.  I decided, being the middle of November (I know this as it was the weekend before my birthday), I would get a headstart and bring down the Christmas gift wrap from the attic.  I always bought my Christmas gift wrap after Christmas the prior year when it was 50+% off.  I still do.   Our attic has nice steps that fold down to make a ladder of sorts into our carport.  I had visited the attic many, many times—always being cautious that I never step on a spot that was “weak”, if you know what I mean.  And I think you know what I mean.  The Husband always cautioned me about that.   I carefully got the first roll of paper and threw it down the steps carefully.  I was smart enough to know I would not be good holding on to much to bring down as it was important for ME to hold on to the little rails on the side of those folding steps.  I walked carefully to get a couple more, threw them down gently, and stepped at the stair area to put my foot carefully over so I could come down also.  Oops.  I forgot at that point about the necessity of being cautious and to never step on a spot that was “weak”.  I put my right foot there at the top of those stairs and….uh huh, bet you know what's coming.  It was a VERY WEAK spot.   The sheetrock crumbled, my right foot followed the direction of the sheetrock, my right arm underneath caught HARD on a 2 x 4 that used to be a “strong” spot to walk on…my left foot and leg stayed on the remaining sheetrock.  Thank goodness.  If I had not caught on that 2 x 4, the story might have been a lot different.   I finally caught my breath and started yelling as I hung there with one foot and leg dangling in midair, the other out of sight, and the right hand dangling while the 2 x 4 held me.  I was in a predicament that merited my yelling for The Husband and The Girl.  Sound familiar to you blog readers?   Uh huh. 


The Girl heard me first.  Uh huh…and went to get The Husband.  He looked stunned and told me to hang on.  Well, duh.   My right arm is attached to the 2 x 4 and my left leg is straight on the attic sheetrock that was obviously not "weak".  Where am I going?  Really?  He managed to help me down and I realized I really had hurt something.  The pain was excruciating in my side under my right arm.  I was having trouble getting a decent breath.  I tried to walk around and breathe, hoping it was just a quick temporary problem that would fix itself in five or fifty minutes.  It wasn’t. 

If I recall correctly—my mind slips, you know—The Husband found a doctor there in town that happened to be open on that Sunday late afternoon and he saw me.  He thought I had probably bruised ribs and it would a while to “unbruise”.  He explained that bruised ribs hurt as badly as broken ribs.  Well, yes, that was just what I wanted to hear. 

It was a day or so after when I was still in massive pain that I decided I needed a second opinion.  I found a doctor who had just moved to town and visited her.  She agreed that the ribs were bruised and gave me instructions on how to minimize the pain.  Pain medicine helped.  I liked that doctor. I told her that day that I rarely needed a doctor so probably wouldn’t see her much.   Now, 26 years and 3-4 huge medical files later, she is still my family’s doctor and friend.  She has diagnosed every bad thing we’ve ever had and helped control and deal with those things.  I still see her regularly.  She also tells me that she tells my story regularly.  

I do remember having to be driven most places that week….and I remember having to be driven to have my drivers’ license renewed and such trivial things as that.  I remember, too, The Mother-In-Law being so mad the her son allowed me to go into the attic when he should have been doing it himself for me.  Hearing her say that was about the only thing that made me smile for several days. 

So really, that’s the “attic incident”.  I was thinking about the physical pain that brought to me and the amount of time that physical pain lasted.  Since that time, I’ve so many episodes of health issues that have caused me so much physical pain.  (Last year's 38 day kidney stone attack immediately comes to mind.)  That same doctor says I’m her worst patient in that I have such a high pain tolerance, I can be really badly sick and not realize….so she has learned when I’m in pain and when I’m not…just by looking at me. That’s a pretty good doctor, I say.

Pain we have in our lives, though, is not always physical.  Granted what I remember most about that attic incident is hanging there not able to move any way and then feeling the excruciating pain it brought.  Isn’t that how we are a lot of times when we suffer emotional pain, too?  We hanging between a right choice and a wrong choice or we’re hanging in grief at things that break our hearts.  Just....hanging.  It’s hard sometimes to forget those painful decisions, choices, and losses and move on.  As I needed The Husband's help to get down from the attic, we often need some help to move on after pain.  I know that if we trust in the Lord to help us deal with the emotional pains and problems that come, we can trust and move on with a positive attitude and spirit.  And don’t we have The Great Physician who knows us so well that He knows when we are in pain and struggling with decisions and choices?  He is there and WILL help.  He promised. That’s a pretty good Great Physician, I would say….a great “heart” doctor.  I’m glad I’m HIS patient!

Painful times teach us many things for sure.  I now store my Christmas gift wrap on the carport where there are no steps to climb.  After I healed, I did have to summon courage to climb back in the attic--kind of like getting on a horse after you've been thrown--and that climb I made and those steps I took on the "strong" parts of the attic floor were very scary.  My legs were like jelly.  I remember well.  But I did it.  The Husband did a helpful thing, too, by repairing the section that was hurt and repaired it so that it was strong.  Just in case I had attic troubles again.  Sometimes it takes us a long time to learn.  And sometimes we learn quickly.  As for our hard times, it's good to remember what the Bible says in 1 Corinthians 12:9 & 10:

"And he said unto me, My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness.   Most gladly therefore will I rather glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me.  Therefore I take pleasure in infirmities, in reproaches, in necessities, in persecutions, in distresses for Christ's sake for when I am weak, then am I strong."

I like that.

A Poem

Yes, two posts for the 3rd day of the new year!  I read this poem this morning and it spoke volumes.  I thought you all, my seven blog readers, might enjoy also.  The poem is attributed to Edgar Guest, and is titled "Sermons We See".

I'd rather see a sermon than hear one any day.
I'd rather one would walk with me--than merely show the way.
The eye's a better pupil--more willing than the ear,
Fine counsel is confusing, but examples always clear.
And the best of all the people are the ones who live their creed,
For to see the good in action is what everybody needs,
I can soon learn how to do it if you'll let me see it done,
I can watch your hands in action, but your tongue too fast may run.
The lectures you deliver may be very wise and true--
But I'd rather get my lesson by observing what you do.
For I may misunderstand you, and the high advice you give,
But there's no misunderstanding how you act and how you live.


And I say, "Amen."

A New Year

Happy 2013!  Yes, two days late but a sincere wish all the same.  I don't make resolutions--can't keep them--but do hope I make an effort to blog more this year.

Today's blog is nothing mind boggling, but stomach satisfying.  And since it's after Christmas and all are accustomed to nice good food, I decided I would share a recipe I found.  I try to stay away from gluten and dairy at the advice of my wise doctor and find I am much better off that way.  However, after making these luscious cookies yesterday and indulging in 3 of the 15, I am scared to open the bag for more lest I cannot stop eating.  Then I have a whole different problem of overeating on the 3rd day of the year 2013.

Anyways, I thought I would share.  Yum....They are flourless, peanut buttery, soft, and delicious.  They look like this:

Here's the recipe:

1 cup firmly packed brown sugar
1 cup chunky peanut butter (I used non-chunky.)
1 egg
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon vanilla
1 cup milk chocolate chips (I used semisweet chunks--it's what I had.)

In a bowl, combine first 5 ingredients, stirring with a spoon.  Add chips.  Drop by teaspoonsful onto parchment paper lined cookie sheet.  (I had no parchment paper so I used put straight on the sheet with no prep.  It worked.)  Bake at 350 degrees for 12 minutes.  Let cool on pan.  Remove to wire rack for continued cooling.

I say-, "Eat one hot.  Yum!"