Don't Go Breaking My Heart

Sometimes we are taken advantage of because of our good nature. And worse, we let them take advantage.


Let me ask you:

Have you ever had a relative that outstayed their welcome or a friend who doesn’t know the etiquette of visiting and won’t leave? During their visit, you feed them, you give them cushy places to dwell and then you cannot get rid of them. Or…or you treat them well and you don’t hear from them again until they need something? Have you had any experience with this type of visitor?

I confess I don’t know many freeloaders, except for one...just recently. Let me tell you about her.

Years ago she needed me. I gave her a place to stay and she ate my food and slept here. She was well- demanding. One day she decided she didn't like some of my "other" friends and left- as if my feelings didn't matter. That hurt.

But in my heart, I still loved her.

After all, I’ve known her since she was a baby. I even….well… considered her more like family than friend. I’ve always tried to be there for her. And from time to time she would beat a path to my door usually for a...handout. I didn't really mind.

About 6 months ago, I called her. I had to call more than once before she came. In fact, it was evening before she arrived. One of her close (and only) friends had died and I was concerned, so I invited her over again. When she arrived, I met her at the door with a smile on my face and fondness in my heart.

I don’t know if I had said something to offend her, but she didn’t stay long that evening. She just ate and left.

But since that day, I believe she has decided that I am now “worthy” because our visits are no longer awkward. And now...she comes to visit every day.

•As long as I feed her.
•As long as I don’t replaced the rickety door that she can open on her own when she wishes to leave... then we can friends. She likes her freedom.

Kiki Dee was born from a feral cat in my shed a few years ago. She has personality problems. But then what cat doesn’t have issues, I ask you?

She doesn’t like other cats.

She’s not that fond of people, except me of course.




I have fed her since she was old enough to eat on her own. But she has always been a little scared of everything: Other cats, random noises, the wind, people, cars , dogs, floppy clothing, and lawnmowers.

I can pet her, but I can’t pick her up without consequences. (And I can't wipe that muck away from her eye: see first photo.)

When the last of the feral cats (that I felt sorry for and fed) -Ginger- died earlier in 2009, I started feeding Kiki inside my screened in breezeway instead of outside on the deck. She was freaky at first.

But one day, when I forgot to let her back outside, she learned quickly how to push the old screen door open and let herself out.

It got better after that day...our relationship. For months now we have been doing this thing, learning how to trust.

She's always been a very sweet cat. But if I go in the house too soon...you know not on her terms or timing... she has been known to reach out with claws and snag my pant leg.

Now back to freeloaders. December 28, 2009 Kiki Dee decided after eating to... stay and stay and almost wear out her welcome. She stayed inside for hours. She ran through the breezeway over and over again with her tail straight up in happiness! She ran on top of all the tables and over the backs of the wicker chairs. She ran into the garage and atop my car. (NOT so great.)

This made me happy that she was happy so... I fed her again…oh and again. I'm not above buying her love.

Why?

Because just like every other pet that has decided to live with me…they pretty much rule.







Besides, what's wrong with buying the love of my pets, family and friends and strangers as long as it's legal. Yes, that includes George Clooney…if he could be bought…and if he needed the money…which he doesn’t.




Sometimes freeloaders are just temperamental cats that come and go as they please. I just hope she doesn't go breaking my heart (again).... (get it, Kiki Dee and Elton John-and a song?) It's playing if you have your speakers on.



Hey, thank you for your nice comments. I needed some down time. Can you believe 2009 is about to end? Are you sad about that? Or are you glad for a new year?

Photo source: learnnc.org

I am...

taking a small break... I hope...small...a day or two.

Will return soon.

This is how the birth of

...Jesus Christ came about: His mother Mary was pledged to be married to Joseph, but before they came together, she was found to be with child through the Holy Spirit.

Because Joseph her husband was a righteous man and did not want to expose her to public disgrace, he had in mind to divorce her quietly.

But after he had considered this, an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream and said, "Joseph son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary home as your wife, because what is conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit.

She will give birth to a son, and you are to give him the name Jesus,because he will save his people from their sins."

All this took place to fulfill what the Lord had said through the prophet:

"The virgin will be with child and will give birth to a son, and they will call him Immanuel"—which means, "God with us."

When Joseph woke up, he did what the angel of the Lord had commanded him and took Mary home as his wife.

But he had no union with her until she gave birth to a son. And he gave him the name Jesus. Matthew 1:18-25

From Journaling Woman: I want to wish each and every person that reads my blog a very Merry Christmas and continued blessings I pray over you for the New Year. I want to thank you all for allowing me to be a part of your reading life through my blog. I get so much enjoyment in writing my posts. So, I hope your holidays are the best. I will see you in the New Year with new writing to entertain you... and me. The promises of a New Year are refreshing. May each dream you dream and each goal you set be yours. See you then. ~Yours ~Teresa

Photo source: vultus.stblogs.org/06nativi.jpg

The Good Portion

You don’t have to be in junior high to want to be someone you are not. Therefore, I will say in my outside blogging voice, I may be a Martha (not the Stewart kind either), but what I really want is to be a Mary.

As Jesus and his disciples were on their way, he came to a village where a woman named Martha opened her home to him. She had a sister called Mary, who sat at the Lord's feet listening to what he said. But Martha was distracted by all the preparations that had to be made. She came to him and asked, “Lord, don't you care that my sister has left me to do the work by myself? Tell her to help me!” “Martha, Martha,” the Lord answered, “you are worried and upset about many things, but only one thing is needed. Mary has chosen what is better and it will not be taken away from her.”(Luke: 10:39-42 NIV)

Anytime I have guests, I get crazy with preparation. My family will lower their chins to their chests in big nods. I want perfection. I cook for an army. I clean like a general on a mission. Frankly, I put JW details in things that no one ever notices- except my angel mom. I stay so busy…so much so…that I don’t enjoy myself.

Martha may have felt like that, like she wasn’t appreciated. Martha was responsible. She opened her home to Jesus and then she went about the duties that were expected of women in that time period. Martha, I can only imagine, wanted to make everything perfect for Jesus. Well, I would too. He was Jesus after all.

Being a Martha often takes the good out of my gatherings, the love out of my heart.

Martha did what was the social norm in that day. She invited Jesus and his followers inside. Then Martha got busy. She went about her tasks as women did then…as some women do now. But Mary, her sister, did nothing but sat at the feet of Jesus and of all things… listened. Now Mary could have been lazy we don’t really know, but I think instead she saw an experience unfolding where she could sit at the Master’s feet and soak in his love and wisdom.

Finally, Jesus noticed Martha’s busyness (my interpretation) and pointed out (and I imagine) in a gentle and respectable voice that she was “distracted by many things”.

I hear this too in Holy Spirit whispers.

I can’t tell you how many times my Type A personality has made me miss out because I had to be busy in preparation. I get preoccupied. I get tired. I get upset when I finally realize what I am doing, and what I am missing. It must have hurt Martha’s feelings to have Jesus point out her distractions and then praise the younger sister. But He was right.

I put busyness before fun.

I put perfection before fellowship.

I put being right before relationship.

Have you ever been distracted like that?

Have you missed out on the fun because things had to be perfect?

Jesus knows we turn to busyness for various reasons: insecurity, running from something or for show. And that's just a few reasons...there are more. He knows we often work without searching our hearts for motive.

I can tell they are both good women. The clear difference between the two life styles is that sometimes we need to embrace the experience and not embrace the preparation.

My prayer for you and I for this holiday season is,

May we find wisdom in the imperfections in our lives and enjoy the moments put before us. After all, we will never receive those moments again. So, I pray that you and I will choose the good portion.

“Mary has chosen the good portion.” (Luke 10:42).


Photo Source: pro.corbis.com/images

Monday Ramblings

Ramble #1

I am on Christmas break for two weeks. Schools tend to shut down for the holidays... around here anyway. I am thankful for this perk, especially since I am struggling with my wonderful job.

My posts will be few this week. I need to do some serious reflection. I need to know why I am falling apart at the seams. I need to pray and listen and that's what I will be doing. Oh and I will be getting my house ready for Christmas dinner... where I will be... now hold onto something...cooking. You heard me c.o.o.k.i.n.g.

Ramble #2

Ornaments have come and gone on my Christmas trees these past years. But three things ALWAYS decorate my pine trees whether real or fake.

The first is...

...my son's first shoes. He wore them home from the hospital, but I don't think he remembers.

AND...

...my daughter's shoes which look like ballet shoes. She took ballet for 10 years. hmm She wore these little shoes home from the hospital. She swears she remembers wearing them home, but then she is a shoe person. (I'm kidding- except she does love shoes.)

AND...

...an Angel sitting atop my main tree, not just any angel but an AVON angel. She goes with nothing on my tree since my ornaments are mostly gold and red on this tree. But I don't care, I like her. She likes me...she sort of told me. Now don't be calling my daughter.

These three special symbols of my life have adorned my trees for 32 years, 27 years, 30 years.

Do you have a favorite ornament or tree topper?

Believe

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.

He was with God in the beginning.

Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made.

In him was life, and that life was the light of men.

The light shines in the darkness, but the darkness has not understood it.

There came a man who was sent from God; his name was John.

He came as a witness to testify concerning that light, so that through him all men might believe.

He himself was not the light; he came only as a witness to the light.

The true light that gives light to every man was coming into the world.

He was in the world, and though the world was made through him, the world did not recognize him.

He came to that which was his own, but his own did not receive him.

Yet to all who received him, to those who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God—

children born not of natural descent, nor of human decision or a husband's will, but born of God.

The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the One and Only, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth. John 1: 1-14 (NIV)

JW's thoughts: Without Jesus there would be no Christmas. Without Him as Savior there would be no way out of the despair of sin. The lost would not be found. The dead would not live again. A baby Deity came so "that the world through him might be saved" (John 3:17), but only if we believe in the one who came.

Mary kept all these things and pondered them in her heart. Luke 2:19

The Case of the Pizza, Grape Soda and...

In my defense, dear Blogger jury, I would like to say that I took very good care of my children and husband and provided them a nutritious meal not once a day, not twice a day, but three square meals a day…and…and I ate with them for years. I also shopped for food once a week when they were around the house. I kept the pantry and refrigerator full or as full as you can when you have children.

I say this, Blogger jury, because of what you are about to read.

Here is the conversation (by way of cell phone) last evening with my daughter, as it unfolded.

“I’m a little worried about me,” I started the conversation, “ I’m so tired all the time and I don’t want to clean my house anymore and that’s not like me. I am worried I will become the like the Collyer brothers.”

“You won’t become like the Collyer brothers.” My daughter said.

“Did I tell you the nurse called today and left a message about my test results and I still have the disease? (For those on the jury that may not know I took an antibiotic a few months ago that killed the good bacteria in my finicky digestive tract.) She wants me to call the office to discuss it, but went ahead and called in another stronger prescription to take. I just don’t know if I trust the new 20 year old doctor. Well he’s older than that, but he looks like my brother and I have issues with that.”

“Hey… wait a minute.” She protested. (As you may or may not know she has a doctorate and has suddenly, at a young age, become a director over other people and sometimes people think she’s 12. So, I call her Doogie…well because I can. )

“So yay, more medicine.” I say sarcastically. “Maybe that’s why I’m tired so much and don’t feel that great, because I have the disease.”

“Could be.” She replied.

“I ordered a large pizza tonight just for me and I ate half of it and my stomach doesn’t feel good… at all. So I drank a grape soda because I wanted one and thought it would make me feel better." I paused.

"The whole thing made me...throw up in my mouth (Sorry, Jury). Then I drank a large glass of water.” I tell her.

She gets quiet for a moment. “I haven’t decided yet if your eating habits are those of an unattended six-year-old or those of a college Frat boy without the beer.”

Ok, jury of Bloggers, after I laughed hysterically I agreed she’s correct in her observation. Even though you haven’t known me long, but from the evidence presented and just for fun...do you think my eating habits are that of an unattended six-year-old or those of a college Frat boy without the beer?

Do you see the fun we have?

PS I would like to say that I will try and eat better, but it would be a lie.

Sources: jury, pizza and grape soda- Flickr

Perception and the Written Word

My daughter and I speak by way of telephone often. Our relationship, thus far, is as good as any mother's and daughter's. The other night, we were talking about her first teaching assignment for a university…to be taught in our rural area- which will be a great thing for our community.

During the conversation, she tells me that she will stay overnight with me when she teaches and then drive to work the next day from my house. Normally, when she tells me she is spending the night, I get all crazy with happiness and I don’t hide it. But during this conversation, I got quiet. Then I said something like, “I don’t like that you will be driving to work that far.” Then I said, (actually I think we both kind of said at the same time) that it would be better to drive to work the next day than home late at night. Then she told me, she wondered why I suddenly got quiet since I am always happy when she stays the night.

Perception.

From her viewpoint, she thought I had grown quiet because I had a problem with her staying the night. But, my thoughts were on her travelling.

Sometimes when I write, what I am trying to say may not actually be what the reader comprehends. A good example of this was a few years ago when my dad and I took a writing course together (so much fun). We were to write a short story and then we were to read them during class. Mine was a story of suspense with a surprise ending. I read it. They listened. It ended. Some laughed. What? Why did they laugh? It wasn’t a comedy. In fact it was a story with suspense and mystery.

The instructor told me, “I can see that you were surprised that some people laughed.” He said, “You gave us the clues, but we didn’t see it coming. It surprised us. It was nervous laughter.” They didn’t think it was funny at all. But I thought, they thought it was a comedy.

Perception.

Another good example is email. I communicate through email every day at my job helping people with their tech problems, talking to vendors and even word exchanges with bosses. Without inflection, how do they know what my email actually means? Is she upset with me? Is she being rude? It’s all in the words.

Commenting on blogs is another good example. I often wonder if my words are taken from a different viewpoint than I intended.

With comedy writing it's all about saying the right thing and about timing. Throw in a surprise or two and you have laughter.

I think mystery writing is about hiding the clues in plain sight so that when the ending comes your reader will be surprised, but not feel cheated out of the logic of getting to that point. I love it when a mystery writer fools me.

Words are tricky. There needs to be an order, a relationship between thought, usage, execution and timing. Put an idea out too soon and it doesn't work.

I have had a love affair with words for 101 years. Yes, I am a vampire... that doesn't like blood. I have written stories since I was 10 or 90-years old. My love for words is like my love for animals. I love them all. I was the only one I knew (or admitted anyway) in college and in graduate school that loved writing papers. I learned quickly to keep it to myself. I even get a kick out of technical writing. So you see, I have a problem.

Yes, that's me in 5th grade when my love for writing began. Don't you be laughing...vampires don't like to be laughed at.

Whether you are a reader or a writer or both, would you give me your thoughts on perception and the written word?

Perception photo: google images

Contentment - the update

From your comments I draw these conclusions.

Home is where you find contentment...where richness dwells.
We need less of self absorption.
We need to savor good moments.
We need to inspire our own contentment...who else could do so well.
We need to believe in God's promises.
We need to find the good in our circumstances.
We need to have patience...even with ourselves...because we deserve it.
We may... just need to let go and just let it pass, whatever is going on. Then...
be still and know that God is God...and we are not.
And... being content is being connected... with God, family, friends, community.

This is what I heard you say. What do you think?

Wednesday Inspired

Contentment Ever After

According to the TV last night, Charlie Brown is having a hard time finding his Christmas Spirit. Something’s not right, so he searches in discontent.

I have heard it said many times this holiday season-- from some very honest people-- that they don’t quite feel the “spirit of Christmas” upon them. I too am trying to find my own Christmas spirit, but not only that, I struggle with feeling content…all year long.

Why do you think I talk about self-reflection so much? Like a good mirror, I reflect to check myself for character dilemmas. Mirror

Mirror on the wall, who is the most content soul of all?

Sometimes …it’s not me.

I count my blessings and I name them. I know them. And I know I live a blessed life. I am grateful and yet, I find at times I am easily lured into the land of discontent. Now I’m not talking about healthy discontent where you make a plan and work to better your life. No, I am talking about the restless spirit of discontent the one that may lead you where you will not want to go.

Am I alone in this?

Why do we feel the restless pull of discontent… alone in crowds…poor when we are rich?

I think it may be the ordinary life that feels too ordinary and then we feel dissatisfaction and then discontent is unveiled.

Discontentment can be a seed planted.
It can make you feel sorry for yourself.
It can make you buy things you can’t afford.
It can make you wander.
Discontentment can make you throw away good things to seek something not so good.

And discontentment can make you…
Bitter
Weak
Unsettled
Deceitful
Walk away

Discontentment can mean desiring greener grass. But, somehow we forget, the grass that grows greener on the other side will also become brown and die.

I am content most of the time. So are you. It is in those seasons of discontent that we need to guard our hearts, our minds, our souls and fight back...because discontentment can be a deal breaker in the wrong hands.

We may, just may, be discontent because we concentrate too much on what we don’t have and not so much on what we are and what we have. And sometimes the best way to find your way out of the land of discontent is to go visit another land.

This week Meredith showed me the land of content in her post and it had little to do with self. She taught me to put aside my own woes and look around me and notice. The spirit of contentment (in case you don't know) is noticing and doing for others. That’s what I learned from her post.

I believe...it’s healthier to concentrate on your blessings, even if it is just one. It is healthier to not entertain "things" we shouldn’t focus on. It’s healthier to look for hope than to look for despair. It’s just healthier to stop giving the pity parties.

So this is a message about the Christmas season- spirit. This message is to you and to me. Treat yourself well. Stop making yourself crazy with the “what ifs”. Remember you are a child of God. Remember your purpose. Hold your head high. Keep your heart free. Live large. Bless others. Embrace life because it is worth living.

For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." Jeremiah 23:11 (NIV)

I will leave you with this.

An older gentleman was sitting outside on the porch of a country store. His dog sat patiently waiting beside him.
A woman had exited and was somberly waiting for someone to pick her up.
The older gentleman inhaled on his pipe and said, "See my dog?"
The woman nodded.
"That's MY dog." He pointed to the dog.

The dog wagged his whole body and then ran to the woman.
She knelt and petted the eager dog.
"That's happy." he said.
The woman couldn't help but smile at the friendly dog whose entire body shook with happiness. "He is certainly happy." She said.
The man blew out another puff of smoke. "No, Ma'am, his name IS Happy."

Do you waggle all over with happiness? Or do you walk around with your tail between your legs? Don't answer those questions unless you want, but answer this: Where do you find your contentment? What do you do when discontentment raps on your door?

Photo sources: http://wallse.net/wp/Christmas_Kitten, http://carolynbremer.com/wordpress/images/HappyDog.jpg

http://www.corbisimages.com/images

A Christmas Story in a Postcard

Sometimes a Christmas story comes from long ago, in a postcard, from a daughter who is away from her parents...

...going to school.

Dear Parents, (she wrote)

I will write you again. We have been busy all day.

We have our schedules made and heaps of studying to do tonight.

Answer soon, I will write you a letter as soon as I have time.

My grandmother.

I noticed on this precious postcard that the stamp was turned upside down. Did it mean the same then as it means now?

A photo of my grandmother with my grandfather years later.

For me she was a no nonsense kind of woman, but, she always loved Christmas. She would take each gift and open it slowly savoring the moment, for as long as she could. I loved that about her.

At this time of year, I always miss my grandmothers.

Monday Rambling At Its Best

First of all I want to thank Elizabeth Spann Craig for my new award. If you haven't read her blog or her books- do it. I think she knows by now that I have a writer crush on her because she has a helpful and useful blog for writers, a heart of gold and...and...she called me a writer once right here on this blog, even though I've only had two children's stories (not books) published in the 1980's, not that you need to be published to be a writer. Thank you, Elizabeth.

Now on to my painful Saturday - last weekend. What happened? I'm glad you asked. Here is the equation for December 5, 2009 and the painful week thereafter.

Digging out Christmas decorations +A cluster (inch) of wood staples that someone in my house did not pick up when they dropped to the floor (tell me what monster would do that?) +
Stepping down…fast…and hard…with heel =Huge pain- followed by blood spurting to the floor- blood on clothes- trail of blood through house- on carpet and visit to the Dr. on Monday, and Tetanus shot.

Conversations at the doctor's office – don’t ya love it when I treat you to these?

Me to nurse. “So I need a shot for this?”
“Yes there is no record of a recent tetanus shot.”
“Well that’s because I have had to change doctors so many times in the last 10 years that who knows where that record might be.”
“Have you had a tetanus shot in the last three years?
“I don’t think so.”
“In the last five years?”
I shook my head.
“You need a tetanus booster.”
“Do you want me to roll up my sleeve?”
“First you will need to see the doctor.”
“Really?”

(Doctor enters) He looks a little apprehensive because he hasn’t cured my “other ailment” and he might have heard me (over the phone) be a little upset recently when we discussed my medications (2) that I take... not relating to the illness and how they don't fit in (in curing it) and he was trying to hold them hostage. So I took care of that pretty quickly since we were face to face.

Then I explained the cluster of staples in the floor, stepping on them and bleeding.

Then... he...picked up my foot (is anyone else terribly ticklish?) and I tried not to laugh or yank it back...but I think I was quivering...and he probably thought I had a crush on him...but cannot because he is the age of my child and he has...my brother's face. In fact I will never ever be able to disrobe in front of him for that reason (brother's face) and that he would be comparing me to all the 20 year old female bodies he sees. ;) (That's me winking.)

Anyhoo, he looked at my heel. “Oh… there are two puncture wounds.” he sounded surprised.
“It was a cluster of staples.” I repeated again.” “They tend to have two entry points. I had to pry it out of my heel…with a staple remover.” I watched his face.
“Really, it was that deep?”
“Yes it was deep but I used my fingernails, not a staple remover.”
He smiled, but not a real smile.He told me I did all the right things. I washed it out. I soaked it the next day. I wore a panty liner in my boot to absorb… well you know the blood because I HAD to go shopping that day. I really HAD to shop. True story!

Really, he doesn't know about the PL, I will keep that a secret until the day I die.

But I worried all day that I would want to try on shoes and I would forget about the PL and it would fall out of my boot and I would have to explain it. But, I didn't try on any shoes.

Maybe it's because it's Christmas...that time of year and that the ole Christmas spirit hasn't knocked on my door yet, but I have been thinking a lot lately about what makes me happy. I don’t think I am alone in this. Someone said to me this weekend it didn’t matter that I don't have the "Christmas Spirit", I just need to do it. It’s true. I am doing what I need to do, minus said Christmas spirit, and it’s going well.

I love lists. So here is another of my lists.


Things that make me happy.

1. I am only happy if Missouri weather is nice -above 50 degrees.
2. I am only happy if Missouri has a warm sunny winter. (Go to Florida Teresa)
3. I am only as happy as my saddest child.
4. I am only happy if I can pay my bills without worry.
5. I am only happy if Desperate Housewives does not go on a holiday hiatus.
6. I am only happy if Missouri drivers behave.
7. I am only happy if bloggers read my blog (comment if they want to) and post on theirs.
8. I am only happy if I can blog all day and night or whenever I want.
9. I am only happy if I write.

Well I have some work to do, as you can see. I can just hear my favorite therapist. "Let go of what can’t change. Find something you can change and then do it." (Made up conversation in my head of a therapist I know.)

Of course this is a half-hearted list, mostly tongue in cheek with the exception of 1, 2, 3, 4, 7, 8, and 9.

My advice to me is stop taking life so seriously…S.E.R.I.O.U.S.L.Y.

Life is Ironic. My Ironic list of 1
1. Agnes, my GPS, is there to help me travel and yet when I make a mistake and make a wrong turn, she gets miffed at me. (I can hear it in her voice…Re...calculating.)


Some of my favorite Christmas movies (no order)

1. Home Alone (This still makes me laugh)
2. We’re no Angels (I love the old time dresses)
3. Miracle on 34th Street (I want to be Natalie Wood, but not dead)
4. The Holiday (The cutest love story)
5. Pioneer Christmas (I love all things pioneer)
6. The Walton Christmas (Good night John Boy)
7. The Christmas Carol (It ends up happy)


What is your favorite Christmas movie?

In those days...

Caesar Augustus issued a decree that a census should be taken of the entire Roman world.

(This was the first census that took place while Quirinius was governor of Syria.)

And everyone went to his own town to register.

So Joseph also went up from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to Bethlehem the town of David, because he belonged to the house and line of David.

He went there to register with Mary, who was pledged to be married to him and was expecting a child.

While they were there, the time came for the baby to be born,

and she gave birth to her firstborn, a son. She wrapped him in cloths and placed him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn.

Luke 2:1-7 NIV


JW thinks that normal every day people are called by God to serve in majestic ways.




Photo source: JW's

My Brother, My Sister, and Me- JW

It's so great to go through the photographs that my mother has put together for me. Here is yet another photo of...me...ok, ok and my sister and brother at my grandparents' house at Christmas.

I don't have a story to go with it, so I will let you create in your mind a story about these 1960's children. And please don't be looking up my dress. How embarrassing!

If you want to play along, then in 50 words or less give me a synopsis of your story based on this photo. Keep it G rated please, my mom is watching.

I know you all are good writers. I've seen it. Make it funny, make it sad, make it heartwarming, make it Sci Fi- but make it your own with just a sentence or two.

Or...instead you can just tell me how incredibly gorgeous I was at that tender age and how I am still quite striking. (Of course that would be another Santa lie) But, I thrive on that kind of attention- you know. Ask anyone.

Sorry there are no prizes for this exercise, just my blogging friendship.

The End.

Playing The Santa Game

Sometimes as adults we play the game of Santa for our children. And sometimes as children we also play the Santa Game.

Honestly, I don't know when I stop believing in Santa Claus...if I ever did. I really don't ever remember believing in Santa as a person who lived at the North Pole, who measured my goodness vs. badness and wrote it down on a list allotting my share of gifts by that gauge.

Maybe I didn't really believe in Santa because I think too much. (I've been told that.)

Or maybe early on I realized my Christmas gifts came from parents who always offered their children the best of Christmas celebrations with family and sometimes a neighbor or two.

Or maybe it didn't matter if Santa existed since I was raised that Jesus Christ was born to be my Savior. Maybe I didn't feel the need to believe in Santa since I had a great family and my faith. But, it was fun to play the Santa Game, so I played.

Like most parents, I too hyped up the existence of Santa. I now think my doing that was strange. But it was fun - then, I suppose.

As a child, when Santa was mentioned, I played along. I smiled politely. The Christmas, captured in these photos, was a good case in point.

One evening my family and I went to a neighbors (and friends) of my grandparents. Those neighbors had their niece and nephews there. Sharon, the little girl in the photo, was my age and we actually remained friends through high school.

I don't remember much about that evening, except we were given stockings with our names on them. I do remember the stockings were filled with candy and what else... I don't remember.

Do you want to know what I do remember? I remember when it was my turn to jump on Santa's lap to tell him my wishes and wants for Christmas, I noticed something very disturbing about him.

I was a little shocked.

I continued to play the Santa Game and delivered my politeness, but I was truly shocked. Then I looked into Santa's eyes one more time to be sure. Do you know what I realized? I realized that Santa was not Santa at all, but Sharon's dad.

That night, I watched as the others talked to him. I looked from one to another...child to Santa.

I started feeling sorry for his own children...that they didn't even recognize their own father, but instead thought he was Santa.

But was that true? I don't know because I kept that secret until the day I died...ok until now...or a couple of weeks ago when I shared it with Mary.

I continued to play the Santa game.... until I stopped. Do you see how I am?

How about you? Did you believe in Santa as a child? What did you believe?

Title of this Post, Playing The Santa Game, was the creation of Techman of whom I work with. I showed him the photo of me with "Santa" and he blurted out Playing The Santa Game and I said, I am using it for my title.

The End.

Santa postcard borrowed from: farm4.static.flickr

Monday Ramblings

Time Will Tell



I get too attached…to my gadgets.

I didn’t want to get rid of my bag phone even though it was hard to stuff in my purse. I like clunky VHS tapes and when my good VCR died I nearly had a meltdown.

I know, I know I am a technology person…well I have a technology type job and should embrace new technology. But you know what? Technology changes so fast that I find myself not finished with the old relationships. Do you see how it is? I like long hugs. It's like embracing the moment only it's embracing the electronic gadget. I know that sounds…well…weird. Now, don’t read anything into that do you hear?

For two weeks, I overslept every morning. I kept thinking, what's going on? Am I that tired? Am I going deaf? Am I slowly being poisoned? (Remember my imagination?) Finally, I realized my alarm clock was not going off as scheduled. It was not doing its “gentle” reminder to wake me.

Sometimes it takes me a minute or... two hundred to catch on.

My old alarm clock (see above photo with fingerprint smudges) started off with a gentle sounding beep… beep and then progressed louder and louder until I hit the snooze, which I hit three times before getting up. Now isn’t that nice? Isn’t that polite? Don’t you just want to invite such a clock into your bedroom? It was kind of like my sweet momma waking me when I was a kid. She would call up the stairs, “Get up kids, it’s time to get up,” in a soft but projected voice. Then I would just lie there (because I am a no good for nothing….) and then a few minutes later she would ever so gently increase her volume, kind of like beep beep --only in words. She was a good alarm clock.

This year at Thanksgiving dinner, I asked her to come live with me and cook for me, cuz I never cook for myself anymore. She smiled sweetly. I could see her worried eyes and her mind churning, “Is my baby not eating?” My mother is special like that. I had a feeling she was probably trying to think how she could put my hair in ringlets again. But then I digress. And I wonder why my family and friends have a hard time keeping up with my conversations.

I really loved, not liked, but loved my (2 year) old Timex alarm clock. I could choose if I wanted to wake up to music, gentle beeps or other sounds. It also, (and isn’t this sweet?), would lull me to sleep with various sounds like night noises, rain or a running brook. Of course this was a problem… water running… well you know…so I quit using that one.

One day the alarm just ceased to work. It’s tragic when they cease.

If you knew me, and you don’t really, you would know that I can’t make a fast decision to save my life. I can’t decide on new flooring. I can’t decide on a new pet. I can’t decide on a new job. I can’t decide on a new husband…. STOP ME...because that's an entirely different story.

But I needed to find a new clock, and I had to find one fast. Becuz, my spare alarm clock sounds like nails on a chalkboard.

There are many choices in alarm clocks, one of which was very much like my old one. I passed on that one because the last one didn’t live very long. My feelings are if a gadget doesn’t last 20 or more years, like my Kenmore appliances, then it’s not for me.

So, I settled for one but HEY it doesn’t trust me to set the time… so it sets it all by itself…you know like the atomic clocks. But, it doesn’t say atomic on the box, but come on that’s what it is. Maybe that’s a registered name or something.

So now I have a new alarm clock. It wakes me loud. Its buttons are hard to find. It’s kind of ugly. AND most of all, I think it’s cheating me out of a minute of snooze time. If I’m thinking right, that would be 1 snooze minute x 3-times of shutting it off = 3 minutes per day. It’s cheating me out of 1095 minutes per year of valuable sleep.

Now that’s just wrong.

Clocks Source: Me, Me, Me

Establishing A Kingdom

For to us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government will be on his shoulders. And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.

Of the increase of his government and peace there will be no end. He will reign on David's throne and over his kingdom, establishing and upholding it with justice and righteousness from that time on and forever. The zeal of the Lord Almighty will accomplish this.

Isaiah 9: 6-7

There's a song in the air!

There's a star in the sky!

There's a mother's deep prayer,

And a baby's low cry!

And the star rains its fire

with the beautiful sing.

For the manger of Bethlehem cradles a King.

Author Unknown

Source: Streams in the Desert (1965) Zondervan Publishing, Michigan
Nativity: Part of JW's collection.

Perfect Places and...

Sometimes you get to live in perfect places.

Those perfect places help shape who you become.

Those perfect places can be anywhere in the world, at any given time. They can be filled with loving parents, laughing friends and love.

And although you may never see that home again or those friends... the influence remains. The love loves on.

Have a good weekend with family and friends.

Can a Mom Feel Proud?

That was then...



















This is now!


She was interviewed on a local TV station yesterday about kids and stress.


This is the link if you wish to watch it.

Kids Feel Stress During Holidays

Source of video: Ozarksfirst.com

Reason #2 that I blog

Awards are very nice. Awards are sometimes expected, but many times are not. Awards lift you up when you may be feeling at the bottom of your world.

I hope that if I continue to blog a hundred years and I receive a hundred awards (a girl can dream can't she?), that I will never be complacent about them. I wish to always look at the spirit of the giving and the inspiration of the giver. Because I want to always remember that when someone gives from the heart, it is a glimpse at their very soul.

This week Gail at the farm gave me this really really nice award. I appreciate it so much. Thank you, Thank you. P.S. I love love love this picture. I'm the one on the far left. Ask my family, they will tell you that my hands are always in the air about something. I also close one eye when photographed...oh oh and my mouth is always open. True story.

Remember Reason #1 that I blog? It's to get to know you.

Now for Reason 2:

Reason #2 that I blog is that I look forward to reading whatever you all have posted every time you post. It's almost an addiction, but a good one. It's kind of like catching up with old friends. You entertain me. You inform me. You educate me. You make think. Then...you inspire me to write some more.

Why do you blog? One more question. Is the answer to the first question the same as when you began blogging?

You now have the blogging floor!

The Complaint Department

As I see it, there are two kinds of people, those who complain and those who don't. (I'm kind of deep like that) It's too hot, it's too cold. It's too dry, it's too rainy. I wish my hair were curly, I wish my hair were straight. Oh wait that's me.

Wouldn't it be great if the complainers of the world would just march right over to that ole complaint department and let go of them...their complaints...never to resurface?

Do you know any complainers?

Complainers are the neighbors next door, the mailman who brings your mail, the checkout person at the store and the Christian in the church pew. What? Are you sure?

We all complain from time to time, and some complain all the time....
A few years ago, when I worked as a secretary in a school office, I had assigned to me student aids. Not only did I make a point of choosing students who, for obvious reasons, were in attendance regularly but they also needed to be of good character.

And in turn I felt a responsibility to be a good influence to my students.

There came a time, as I often do, when I did some soul searching...some reflecting on my own character one day. I felt that the only words exiting my mouth had been negative...you know critical... complaining and grumbling too much. I had found myself not only talking about others, but complaining about everything. Two character flaws not so pleasing to the naked ear. First, I would find fault in you, then grumble all day about it.

I prayed that night. I searched for scripture.

"Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths, but only what is helpful for building others up according to their needs, that it may benefit those who listen." Ephesians 4:29 NIV

That night I had an idea...

...that led to the next day. I decided that if I could not say something positive or affirming, then I would say nothing. Surely, I could refrain one day from negative talk. But, it wouldn't be as easy as just declaring it, I would have to think about everything I was about to say, before I said it.

I felt the impact later that day.

One of my seniors came in the office and sat down beside me. "Are you sick?" she asked.

"No."

"Are you upset with someone, with me?"

I was puzzled and shook my head. "Why?"

I remember she sighed kind of frustrated like. "Well, you aren't saying anything. You aren't talking much."

Then I laughed. It then occurred to me that I hadn't said much that day because most of what I wanted to say was what I had determined not to say. So I told her about my experiment, my determination to live one day without complaining.

She was impressed that I had decided to refrain from complaining.

When her hour rolled around again the next day she shared that she too had tried the same thing that day, to live one day without complaining.

I can't remember if she was successful or not, but I do remember her telling me it made her think before she spoke.

People complain. It's our nature. God knows that, he created us. Sometimes we use God as our Complaint Department...and that is ok because he is in the business of listening whether good or bad. He knows that we are overwhelmed by bills, marriages, deadlines and tragedies. And he knows those are the real reasons we complain...not the things we make up in our minds. He understands...because he knows the reality behind our complaints...the frustrations, the depression, the fears, the bitterness.

We don't need to fake being happy; that's not real. But, how much of our complaining is actually about the complaint? And how much of our complaining and grumbling is because we just want to make others suffer...because we are suffering?

Now I don't know this for sure but maybe a better way to deal, when we feel the complaint bubbling in our soul and heading for our mouth, is to investigate our hearts for the real reason we are unhappy.

What would our day be like if we lived a no complaint day? Is that even possible? Would it be a quiet day like mine was?

Just something to think about on this wonderful midweek day, I like to call...Wednesday.

Christmas Story #1

The Sister and Santa Claus

Since today is my sister's birthday, I will start my Christmas storytelling with a story that includes her.

As children, my sister and I shared a bedroom on the second floor. I am nearly eight years older so I can tell you that it wasn't the best arrangement since we were at different seasons in life. We rarely said much to each other or had much interaction. Except...

once in a while, she would have some crisis and would end up in my twin size bed with me.

Mostly, she would be scared about something OR she pretended to be scared so she could sleep with me.

Anyway, she was talking about Christmas that night when she crawled in bed with me. She talked about Santa...about presents and I really wanted to go to sleep, but she wanted to talk, so I tried to listen. I also took my opportunities at every pause to tell her she needed to go to sleep.

Finally frustrated, I emphasized strongly that she needed to go to sleep so that Santa could come.

Then right on cue, we heard a thump on the roof... followed by jingling of bells. Yes, jingling of bells.

She whispered, "Is that Santa?"

Frankly, I was a little shocked myself and got quiet to listen. But I finally whispered, "Yes, and you need to go to sleep. He doesn't like it when children are awake when he's bringing them presents."

It worked.

She went to sleep.

I don't remember when I figured out that the thump on the roof was our cat and the jingle was the bell on her collar. Maybe, I saw our cat the next day and put two and two (that's thump and jingle in mystery talk) together.

But, my sister believed it was Santa and for one single solitary moment or two, I might have wondered about it myself.

Happy Birthday, Little Sister.

Photo source: can't remember, but meant to.