His Wonderful Works....Part 5



 It's been a long and wonderful summer for us here at the Neals.  I love my front porch, I love the more relaxed mood, and I love projects in the summer.  So between my projects and my porch there have been no posts since June! :)
   These posts are a walk down memory lane for me.  I am doing them at the request of my husband.  He felt it would be good for me to meditate on all the wonderful blessings the Lord has given us.  He's right--it is good to remember the kindness, patience and goodness of the Lord as my Shepherd, my Teacher, and my Friend. (and so much more)
  In my last post I told how the Lord gave us our second child-Alicia.  What lessons He had for me in two little girls.  They looked different and their personalities were different.  Niki started talking in phrases at 15 months.  Alicia took her time in talking, but was pulling up in her crib early on.  She walked first, and her motor skills were advanced.  My mother had often told me not to expect the same thing from my second child as my first one, but now I was learning firsthand how different two children could be.
  Alicia's curious nature was always there.  She was always discovering something new.  Niki, on the other hand, would be walking behind me asking hundreds of adult-type questions.  I was absolutely enthralled with being the mother of two unique little girls.
  At this time I had been growing spiritually and began reading biographies of great Christians.  As a little girl my mother often read us stories of great Christians.  I remember Hudson Taylor, Johanna Veenstra, Mary Slessor and Nate Saint as some of the heroes that we had as children.  The sweet memories of these stories motivated me to start reading on my own. 
   I began to realize how important a prayer life was, how important reading my Bible daily was.  Part of it was because I had become a woman and the other part was realizing how important being a mother was.
  We lived in a small gray house that the church owned that sat in a lot adjacent to the church.  What sweet memories I have there!  I was learning the art of being a homemaker.  The floors were old grey tile, but I polished them with Future wax to make them shine.  I  spent time looking at  cookbooks so I could have a hot meal waiting for my husband when he got home from work.  I enjoyed decorating with items that had been given to me.
  I rehearsed in my mind things that my grandmother and mother had said while we were just chatting that now made sense.  My grandma had told me to always make sure my beds were made, my dishes done and my living room was tidy.  That way if company came I wouldn't be ashamed of my house.
  So what was the wonderful work in this time of my life?  Well, the Lord was just beginning the lesson of contentment in my life.  (And I had to repeat this grade for several years!)
  I had been given the gift of parents who had their value system straight.  Possessions had no hold on them.  My mother had told me she remembered reading a biography of Isobel Kuhn who said to always hold your possessions on an open hand to the Lord and to "never curl up your fingers on them."
  My parents were in full-time ministry most of their adult lives and they always had to pinch the pennies.  But you never sensed they resented it or felt they'd missed something.  They had found something bigger than having the right car, or the right house, or even the right clothes.  They had found how to have food and raiment and be very content. 
   Now we were living life on a tight budget with two little girls that needed clothes, doctor visits and food on the table.  I had a choice to make--resent it and fight it or learn what my parents had learned.  That lesson was how to depend on God and be thankful for what He provided.  I began to pray specifically for things like winter coats, shoes and grocery money for the week. 
  At the same time I was so very happy.  I had a husband who loved me, made me feel cherished, found joy in being the breadwinner and caring for his little family.  Our marriage was a happy one.  We had two healthy little girls.   I found that I could get more joy out of bathing a baby, or sitting under a shade tree and watching them play then in going shopping.  I got more joy out of fixing a new recipe than having a new outfit.  I found out that sitting on the porch with my husband after the girls had gone to bed and listening to the night sounds gave me more joy than going on the town for a night. 
  Although I didn't realize it this wasn't just my personality--it was a gift from the Lord.  I also didn't realize that this is the by-product that comes with carrying out your life in agreement with how the Lord designed the home and family.  When we do it His way it produces a deep contentment and joy in our hearts.
  How thankful I am now for the parents, the grandparents, the church and the husband God had so graciously given me.  All these had played a part in my being able to live in a tiny house with a tiny budget with very used furniture and hand-me-down clothes feeling like I was one of the richest women that ever lived!
  Today I look back with such gratefulness for all the wonderful blessings in my life that I took for granted then.  How I thank the Lord for the memories of the smallest beginnings in my life of I Timothy 6:6--"But godliness with contentment is great gain."
 
  

All day yesterday I thought of my dad who was sitting behind me in church, unaware that I was in front of him a few rows, unable to take part or enjoy church-- a place he loved with all his heart. Alzheimer’s is an ugly disease and although my dad is with us in body, the dad I always knew and spent much time in fellowship with is gone.
Last night my husband preached on casting a shadow on other’s with your life. He told how each of us cast a shadow rather we want to or not, and that it will always be a part of us. Then he told some stories about my dad--a man who cast a long shadow with his life. He used his life and influence for Christ.
As a little girl I knew that my daddy knew Christ and was going to heaven. That’s why I asked him to pray with me when I was afraid of going to hell. He put his paper down and prayed with me. I didn’t get saved that night, but I knew who to go to about spiritual matters.
When I got saved I heard a message on Calvary by a guest preacher my dad had at our church. I was scared to go to the altar, but I reached up and took my dad’s hand and asked the Lord to come into my heart and save me. Once again, I knew who I could trust and feel safe with when it came to the spiritual matters in my life.
Dad never entered a restaurant, gas station or motel without trying to find someone to talk to about their eternal soul. Dad cared about where people spent eternity and if they were with him any time at all they knew it.
I could tell story after story of people he “offended” with his straight-on approach about spiritual matters, I could also tell you page 2 -- when they hit bottom in their lives and realized they needed a Saviour they knew who to find to lead them to Christ. He cared and it showed.
I’ve sat and listened to people who dad led to the Lord and then got cold and backslidden. Some of them their marriages fell apart, some of them it was worse than that, they saw the chastening hand of God take loved ones. I’ve listened to them say, “Those were the best years of our lives when we sat under Brother Bob--and we didn’t even realize it.”
I’ve listened to my dad counsel people late into the night. I learned as a young girl that those who did what he showed them in the Bible went on to live productive, happy lives. Those who ignored what he showed them in the Bible ended up with a life that was shipwrecked. Dad had no idea that with my bedroom door cracked he was counseling his daughter at the same time.
I had to learn as a teen that my dad was as human as anyone else and once I wasn’t a little girl any more and could clearly see some of his faults I needed to learn to depend on God to meet my needs where my dad failed me. (Psalms 27:10) That was a lesson that led to some broken fellowship between my dad and I until I got close enough to the Lord to realize that my dad had needs too, and if I desired something from my dad I needed to give him what I yearned for.
I learned if I wanted his ear, I needed to give him mine. If I wanted some trust, I had to trust him. If I wanted his attention, I needed to pay close attention to him. If I wanted time--I needed to give him time.
I also learned maturity is taking the responsibility for my sinful behaviour instead of blaming it on my dad’s fathering skills.
Learning this lesson from my heavenly Father gave me a very close relationship to my earthly father. That closeness never ended. We had it right up to the day he didn’t know me any more as his daughter.
When my depression literally “fell on me” for over twelve years, my dad was the one who spent long hours on the phone with me. My dad was the one that came and stayed at my house for three days and would put those wonderful aging hands on me and cry out to God for me. I could feel the agony lift when he prayed for me. Once again, my dad was there for me when the spiritual life in me was so low I couldn’t even be sure it was there.
When mom and dad had their 50^th wedding anniversary celebration one person after another told how my parents lives had influenced their life. They told how dad “chased them down” with the gospel and how grateful they were. They told how dad put the fear of God in them about their eternal souls. They told stories of how he helped get their faith renewed, their vision focused on what really mattered, shored them up in the storms of their lives.
Letters poured in that thrilled my mom and dad to read of their influence in their tireless rounds of spreading the word of God wherever they could and encouraging soldiers in the fight for the Lord.
Servant, prayer warrior, fierce defender of the faith, fearless fighter and my dad.
Impetuous, outspoken, rushing in where angels fear to tread….yes, that was my dad.
Tenderhearted, quick to ask forgiveness, open before all….yes, that was my dad.
Real. Yes, that was my dad.
Years before the Alzheimers came my dad asked me to pray that he would finish right. I don’t know how many times as I’ve prayed that I’ve wondered how this is finishing right--but I trust the Lord it is, and daddy, I’m still praying for you to finish right.
When we used to go to fellowship meetings together they would ask daddy and I to sing “Home Sweet Home. Yesterday, I sang it to him. He used to join in on the chorus with me. When I asked him to sing with me yesterday he said haltingly, “Well, that might take a while.”
As I sung it I thought of so many other songs dad sang with us. He used to sing to us (we didn’t like this one because he took it very literally! )-“When I Take My Vacation in Heaven”.  He loved “Till The Storm Passes By”, “Power in the Blood”,“Keep on the Firing Line”, and “Is That the Lights of Home I See?”. We sang along with Brother Roloff as he would sing “Deeper Than the Stains Have Gone”.
Oh, how I miss my precious dad and his boldness. I’ve asked for a double portion, then wondered if a double portion of my dad would scare most Christians today to death! J
So, although you can’t read this daddy, all your friends and family can. I love you more each day I live. Happy Father’s Day from your “Palm Tree”-Tamara


　
　
　

Day # 3 of advent....Grandma AllDean's porch looks so pretty with Christmas wreaths and lights...she turned me loose!
One of the ways I love to celebrate this season and keep my perspective is to have my very own silent night. Put on the Christmas music after the kids go to bed, light some candles, get some hot cocoa or eggnog and sit in a darkened room with the fireplace and Christmas lights and just relax and think about all that you love about this season. It can be a time or prayer, a time to remember, a time to go over your grateful list, but it's a good time to just give yourself the gift of a quiet time during a very busy season!
Tonight I'm thankful for the joy of children at this time of the year, the joy of my being a child of God, a wife, a mother, a homemaker. I'm thankful that the Lord has given me a love for every role He has given me. I'm thankful for the beauty of Christmas, for the "mood" that makes people more open at this time of year, for watching my children's excitement build, for the wonderful aroma of Christmas.....I could go on and on...thank You Lord for your coming to us bringing so very much joy into our lives!

A letter to my dad...

  Dearest Dad,

  Yesterday I saw the picture of you and I that was taken last year on Father's Day.  It brings tears to my eyes.  It brings back memories of your mother when she developed the illness that you now have.  I can honestly say I hate the disease of Alzheimer's and all its symptoms.   The dad I knew and loved is gone.  The dad who was boisterous, full of zeal, social, and so alive to life and people. 
  I just want you to know, dad, the disease doesn't make me love you any less.  It only makes me look forward to the day we can visit again in heaven and you'll be free of illness forever. 
  Today, as we're headed to Father's Day you've been on my mind.  I find myself walking back over the days of my youth and cherishing each moment that I had with you.  I never realized when I was in my carefree youth how much I'd hold on to those moments  in the future and go back over them again and again--like looking at precious snapshots that captured that moment in time.
   I remember my birthday party in Lake St. Clair, Michigan.  We lived above a garage very close to the lake.  It must have been my 4th birthday.  There was a little porch on the roof with fencing around it and we had my birthday out on that porch.  I remember your acting silly and blowing on the noisemakers.  It was a sweet memory of being the center of attention with my daddy being the one that was giving me all the attention that a second born could crave!  
  I remember the time you were laying in a windowseat reading your newspaper when I asked you to pray with me that I wouldn't go to hell.  You laid your paper down, knelt down and prayed with me.  I don't remember what you prayed--I do remember how much I loved my dad for calming my fears.   While living in that same house I stood in the church you pastored and after hearing a guest speaker preach on Calvary I reached up and took your hand, prayed and asked the Lord to come into my heart and save me. 
  I remember prayer being a major part of our lives.  You led us in prayer about almost everything--or so it seemed.  One night you had us down by the couch praying for milk because we didn't have any.  Our prayers were short and to the point.  I thought yours wasn't ever going to end.  While you were praying there was a knock on the door and to my amazement there stood our school principal with a gallon of milk under each arm. 
  "My parents cows gave too much milk today.  Could you use some?" 
  "God heard my dad's prayers, He heard my dad!"  Prayer has always been a major part of my spiritual health and I think it's no mistake that your prayers being answered probably laid the foundation to that part of my life.
  I remember a night you gave me a good hard spanking and I was thinking in my head, "I hate him.  I hate him!"  Then after it was over you said, "Now come here, honey." and you wanted to hug me and tell me you loved me.  Those hateful thoughts instantly changed to, "I don't hate him.  I don't hate him."
   I remember your taking me on a "date" with you.  Isn't it strange how every detail of something like that sticks in our mind?  I know the exact spot where the little corner cafe sat where we stopped to have a soft drink together.  It was a greasy spoon cafe on Highway 67between Albany and Muncie, Indiana.   I felt so big sitting at that counter with my dad.  After that you took me to a store and bought me a Bible story book.  I kept it for years and years and somehow it got lost in one of our moves.  But if it ever shows up I remember writing on the front flap the date.  It was a memorable night for a little girl to be with her dad.
  I remember the hikes we took when we lived out north of Parker.  As we marched down the road you would make us do cadence marching to the words:
  "You had a good home but you left-right, left-right...
    you had a good home but you left-right, left-right, left-right, left!"
  We would end up under the bridge sitting on the cement shelving cooling off, swinging our legs, and seeing who could spit the farthest.  (Why do I remember that Kristi always won?" :)
   I remember you taking the time to talk to us about dating lost boys.  You gave me a magazine from Back to the Bible that followed the life of a young woman and her letters to one of the preachers.  First, she was going to change him, next he promised he would come to church with her after they got married, and then the sorrow of their married life when he became a drunkard and a wife-beater.  I was thoroughly convinced and that was one sin that held no temptation for me.  Your spending time to show me the Bible and give me someone's testimony had a lasting impact on me.
   I remember my tumultous teen years when I felt I could not get you to understand me.  I read a book by Richard DeHaan about teens that greatly affected me.  However, I couldn't seem to get you to discuss my teen troubles.  I wrote you a long letter and left it on your car seat.  When I came out of work that night you were waiting in the car and we had our talk.
   I remember calling you from my home after I was married and had four kids to tell you how sorry I was I didn't honor you more and obey you more. I was sorry for hurting your ministry by being a rebellious teen so many times.   I was heart broken and you told me I'd been forgiven long ago for anything that had hurt you.  I was so distressed over it that I kept calling you and you finally said, "Now Tami, the cat's dead.  Go bury it and don't leave the tail out so you can keep checking it to make sure if it's dead."  Those words often echo in my memory and I often have to repeat them to myself when I need your wise advice once again.
   I remember calling your house to talk about spiritual things and you always had the time.  You always stopped what you were doing to talk to me.  When I went through the deep, deep valley of depression you kept telling me to "Look up--not in.".  You would quote scripture and remind me that if I looked in it would get dirtier and darker but if I looked up it would pull me out of the darkness.
   When I had a terrible week you and mother packed your things and came over to stay with me.  I remember you laying your hands on me and praying for me over and over.  Each time you did that the depression would ease.  What love a sacrifice.
  I remember asking the Lord to please not take you and mother from me because I knew you wouldn't fail to pray for me when others did.  Shortly after that she went to heaven and not too long after that Alzheimer's began claiming you.  I have made it without you on the other end of the phone but I haven't made it without hearing so many things you've said and taught going through my mind and being so thankful for the dad I was given.
   Dearest dad, what a wonderful legacy and heritage you bestowed on me.  You weren't perfect, you actually were impulsive, quick to move, slow to listen and you didn't fit the manuals that have been written on how to be the perfect dad.    I remember during one of my rebellious times (and after focusing on your imperfections) I decided I was going to show you by going into total rebellion.  I took a walk and as I walked around and around the block fussing and fuming at you I knew beyond any doubt you had David's perfect heart.  With all your heart you desired to please and obey the Lord and to the best of your ability you were fathering us in obedience to the Lord.  I couldn't follow through on my threat once I admitted that.
   If I had listened to you and obeyed you I wouldn't have many of the scars I do have.  I can't think of any advice you gave me that wasn't absolutely true.  I just didn't like your delivery and used that as an excuse to sin.  Any place you didn't "measure up" Christ would have filled in the empty spots.  It wasn't your failure--it was my failure to fully depend on the Lord to meet my needs.
   I wish you could read this and comprehend how very, very much I love you and how grateful I am for you.  You truly are a modern-day spiritual hero, one of the giants we should try to emulate and follow their footsteps.  I have often asked the Lord for your fearlessness in witnessing and your total unawareness of what negative things people thought or said about your love for the Lord and your Christian life.  I also covet the zeal you always had toward the Lord's people and the Lord's work.  Thank you so much for being my dad. 
   Since you can't read this I want to honor you before others and let the whole world know what a wonderful dad I have.  I love you, daddy!
 Happy Father's Day!

Love,

Tamara
  
 

Memory Lane- #1

   I don't know why but my heart has been going down memory lane in a big way for over a week now.  I have thought so much about people and places that have influenced my life in a major way.  Maybe it's because I'm in the autumn of life and maybe it's because the Lord has been giving me a grateful heart lately.
   My first memories are of a little house on Jay Street in the town of Dunkirk, IN.  Dunkirk was a small town with a train track dividing it.  My maternal grandparents lived on Railroad Street and my paternal grandmother lived on the other side of town on Pleasant Street.  What sweet memories the town of Dunkirk has for me.
   The house we lived in was a dark green shingled house and I was a very little girl.  My only memory there is of a Christmas tree and my dad throwing his shoe at a mouse that ran by the tree and killing it.  I remember my parents thinking that was very funny and all of us laughing.  End of memories in that house.  I have lots of memories of how the house looked by looking at pictures and hearing my parents talk abou it. 
  I also have the memory of my dad telling that while we lived there my sister Kristi would ask to go to church when the church bells rang on Sunday.  He said that bothered him--but not enough to get him to go to church.
  Then he began working with a bricklayer named Paul Vice who was also an evangelist.  Paul Vice was going to be preaching a meeting at my dad's mother's church.  It was Sugar Grove Methodist Church, a little country church that I remember us going to some when I was very small.  He asked my dad to come hear him preach there and got my dad to agree.  During that meeting on January 25th (I think I have the date right) my dad and mom went forward and got saved.  Life changed for our entire family after that--my parents salvation saved their marriage and allowed my dad to see household salvation.  I can't imagine how happy his mother must have been.
   My only other memory of that period of my life was that my Grandpa Ike left and I didn't see him again until I was in about 4th or 5th grade.  I am not sure if what I remember really is in my memory or it was told to me by my parents till I think I remember it, but I have a memory of my Grandpa Ike holding me, playing with me, riding me on his foot like I was on a horse and then he was gone.  My dad told me he left right after that evening of spending time with us.  He was a womanizer and had left more than once but this was the last time.  I only saw him twice after that.  Years later when reading my grandmother's journals I read where he would come home and run up bills, leave after getting indebted, ask for forgiveness and come back only to put them in debt again.  Finally when he asked to come back she told him no. 
  These were the days when to get a divorce the person who was wronged had to file for the divorce and my grandmother would never do that.  She told me that although he had broken his vows she was not going to break hers.  He never did get his divorce but lived in Florida with another woman till his death when I was a senior in high school.  My grandmother's willingness to be true to her vows in spite of what had been done against her made a huge impression on me as a young person.  I knew when I married it was truly "for better or for worse" and planned to see it through because of my grandmother's advice and example.
  My Grandma Nelle's house had a beige living room, a flamingo bedroom and a turquoise kitchen when my grandpa left her.  I have never liked those colors on the walls of a house.  It gives my heart a little downward tug to think of her kitchen back then and I didn't like it till my dad remodeled it for her.  Who would think that even the colors affected the sadness I felt at losing my Grandpa Ike as a very little girl. 
  I still remember the smell of the Dove bar soap in my grandma's bathroom, my fascination with her razor laying on the side of her tub, how I loved her collection of cameos and her hair reticule and bakelite set of brushes and beauty items on her dresser.  I think of my love of  her teacups and the little China doll on her curio shelf with glass lace on her skirt tail.. 
  At my other grandparents I spent many a rainy afternoon on a butter yellow glider in their screened in porch and today a glider like it sits on my porch.  I loved my grandmother's book shelves with their glass fronts and the wonderful smell of stationery when I opened them.  I loved the Big-Little books on those shelves and the little box of games my grandpa kept in there to entertain us.  I loved my grandpa's Popular Mechanics books and find myself looking for reprints of them in bookstores.  I loved my grandmother's orange teakettle, her African Violets that lined her sunny kitchen window and the grape arbor in the back yard with the porch swing under it.  Oh, sweet memories.  Thank you Lord for bringing them back to me to relive those lovely days.
  With that I will conclude  my first trip down memory lane.  I'm writing this mostly for my children, but also for my spiritual children.  We don't realize how much one person can affect the rest of our lives.  It is so important to surround ourselves with the right influences and to see our children are surrounded with the right influences.  Childhood influences affect us for the rest of our days.  As a young woman I felt my Grandmother Mettler was my best friend.  As a little girl my Grandpa Mettler gave me many pieces of advice and I've not forgot a one of them.  I'd say at the time he didn't know if I was listening or not--but I still remember our talks.
  How does that affect me today?  I am now a grandmother and I know that every conversation might mean the difference in my grandchildren's lives.  I try to have time with them that they will look back to with the sweetest of memories and not to take them for granted. 
   I also try to remember that every spiritual decision I make will affect my entire family--for good or for bad.  I pray that I will make decisions that will bring more of the Lord into my family's heart and life.  And I pray that the Lord will teach us all that today is tomorrow's memory.  May all of us live in such a way that when we are gone "we being dead still speak" to our family.

Love,
Mom
 

Christmastide...

 

I truly believe the song line that says "It's the most wonderful time of the year..".  I love the season of Christmas.  I begin celebrating before Thanksgiving but I keep it a secret because my husband doesn't want to hear a peep about Christmas till after Thanksgiving!
  This year I told the children that between the fact that I wasn't even sure where our Christmas decorations were and that we were going to be gone part of the Christmas season we were only going to get out the tree and decorate it and nothing else.
  Well, Gary and the kids brought down the boxes from the attic and as we went through them it was, "Oh, we've got got get out the nativity set, Mom." and "Aren't you going to put the snow village out." and "You know every year you decorate the cabinet." and "Whose going to kill any mice we might get during Christmas if the nutcrackers aren't out?"  Being the very-sentimental woman that I am the next thing you know I had everything out except one box of snowmen I couldn't find!  So much for not getting anything out but the Christmas tree items.  I have to admit when I sit at night and look at it all I'm very glad I didn't listen to myself!
  And what is my personal favorite?  Well, I love the nutcrackers.  Asher loved them when he was little and one at a time they showed up as gifts for him from his grandparents.  The only one that doesn't belong to him is the mouse king.  He showed up on the last day of the pocket calendar as a grand finale a couple years ago. 
  We love the story of the nutcracker and our cartoon version is just about my favorite Christmas movie.  Every year if we get a mouse in the house during the Christmas season it shows up dead at the feet of our nutcrackers--but the nutcrackers are not my favorite Christmas decoration.
  I love the pocket calendar.  It began when the older children were little.  I made a homely little pocket calendar with 25 pockets and each day a little surprise or promise note showed up in the pocket.  It was put there by Ralph our resident Christmas elf.  He has been known to fix toys, hide treats and generally be a true fun friend to have in the house for the month of December.  Alicia was certain when she was little that she saw him moving through  the branches of our Christmas tree.  I really think she still is a firm believer in Ralph! :)  But the pocket calendar isn't my favorite Christmas decoration!
  I also love my Hoosier cabinet decorations.  It started with just a few and grew till the whole cabinet top was filled with Christmas each year.  One year I thought it was a little too much and decided I wasn't going to do the cabinet any more.  Alicia was already married but let me know that it wouldn't be Christmas without the cabinet being decorated-so it still is.  However, the cabinet is not my personal favorite.

   I love the snow village.  It is made up of little houses that are mostly from thrift stores and Big Lots and Dollar General stores.  We have more than one church with little carolers in front of them.  (The ones at the nicer church look a little uppity to me in their choir robes!)  We have a banker stepping out of the bank looking at his watch.  (We call him Jimmy. :)  We have a barn and it front of it are men working on cutting wood and blacksmithing.  We have a toy store, a post office, and a fire house.  We love them all and call it Nealville.  However, the snow village is not my favorite decoration.

   I love all my cozy kitchen decorations.  I have a swag with antique ornaments attached with homespun, lots of cute little snowmen, little children that sit in my kitchen window decorated in red and green, and lots of snowmen but these aren't my favorite Christmas decorations.



  My very, very favorite decoration is our nativity set.  It is composed of cheap, not-so-cheap and Fontanini.  Mary and Joseph have a home made from foam core and Bethlehem's barn is a book given to me when our older children were very little.  However, I love it because it is the theme of the month for me.
  It begins with Nazareth which is in my living room right now behind my chair.  During the move the floor disappeared so this year their home is extremely shabby, but they don't care.  One day a Roman soldier shows up to their little home and leaves a notice from Caesar on their door--they must go to be taxed.  So they put a bedroll on their donkey and begin the long trek across the living room to Bethlehem. (Which is in the kitchen this year.)

  Bethlehem is on the dry sink in the kitchen and is made up of a stable, a large star (that doesn't light up till Christmas Eve), a shop keeper, soldiers, some residents, a palm tree and animals.  The manger is empty and stays that way till Christmas Eve.  Nearby is a hilly area with shepherds watching their sheep by their campfires. 



  I love it when they all end up gathered around the newborn Jesus and the star is shining above it all.  How perfect.  The wise men even show up to worship even though I am fully aware their timing is off when compared to the Bible.  But we can't keep the nativity set out long enough to let them do it accurately!

   So far this Christmas season we've had all our hearts could desire and more.  It has snowed and given us a picture postcard yard for one day, I've been able to bake and play in the kitchen, I've been enjoying creating little gifts for my loved ones, have been able to smock a beautiful new dress for my latest grandchild who is coming to join us December 15th and have even stayed on track in working ahead in school so we're not behind when we come home from our trip!  Thank You Lord for all Your blessings and help!

 

   And just to think--this is just the beginning of this wonderful season!  I am looking forward to the many things we still have to do.   We're taking my mother-in-law to see the lights in Pigeon Forge/Gatlinburg and visit Hammers Dept. Store, we're going to be making a trip as a family to see my Idaho grandbabies and our newest little granddaughter, I still have lots of ideas floating around in my head that I hope I have time to carry out, cookies and candies to make, wonderful once-a-year food to cook and Christmas books to read and movies to view. 

  Above all, it's a time to thank the Lord for coming to earth in human form that He might save us from our sins!  Thank You, thank You, thank You!

  I pray that you're having a wonderful holiday season and savoring every sight, smell, future memory, and every moment with your loved ones.  May God bless each one of you and grant you a Christ-filled, joyous holiday season.

With love,

Mom

Childhood...

This morning my mind was on mothering. I guess it was because I've been hearing commercials and getting e-mails about Mother's Day. Of course, I thought of my own sweet mother and the memories of my childhood that are precious.
One distinct memory I have in my first five years is the smell of her face. She used Cover Girl makeup and I can remember thinking how soft she was and how sweet she smelled.
Kindergarten was very frightening to me. I remember coming home from school and curling up in my mother's arms in a rocker and making sure I was close to that sweet smell of "my" mother. A little phonograph sat on a stool next to the rocker and she would play a record as she rocked me.
I remember sitting in a big walk-in pantry off of the kitchen and playing by the hour with a cardboard family my mother made me out of poster board. The dad wore a business suit and went to work each day. I had a house (upstairs and downstairs!) where the mom and dad slid into their bed (neat slots) the baby had a nursery and my cardboard oven and refrigerator actually opened! My mom drew the mother in different positions. She might be at the stove, sitting on the couch, dressed in her lovely nightgown and robe ready for bed or pushing her shopping cart. I had a little grocery too, with a chubby butcher who actually had little meats to take in and out of his meat case!
It took time for my mother to make that for me, but she created more in my heart than just a cardboard family. She created a love for her, her values, family with a mother at home and a dad at work. Her afternoon of drawing something for me had big dividends in her life.
Another memory is that of always knowing that my mother was there. If I was playing outside she was just a call away. Sometimes I would run in just to be comforted by seeing her in the kitchen. As a newly married bride I remember walking down to chat with her one day and she wasn't there! I remember wondering what was wrong, or who had got sick! I also remember the little prick of irritation--mom was supposed to be there where she belonged.
When my husband was pastoring in another part of Tennessee we would get newsletters from a Christian legal group educating you on problems that could affect the church. One newsletter was on teenage suicide. This was back in the 80's or early 90's. I remember that it said that over 60% of teens suicide notes faulted the mother for "not being there when I needed you".
Scripture makes it clear that a child left to himself will bring shame to his mother. (Proverbs 29:15) That word "left" means to send away, to dismiss, to let loose, to give over. Who have we given our children over to so that we can do what we want with our time. The government, a daycare facility, the television, a computer, even our church and its activities or grandma?
Scripture also clearly defines where our lives are to be spent as wives and mothers. (Titus 2 and Proverbs 31 for starters!) It would do us all good to ask how much time we are spending outside of our God-given domain. This time includes the computer and the tv and the telephone--not just the mother that walks out the door to punch a time clock each day. It also includes being a busy beaver in ministry work outside of the doors of your home. Make your home the core of your ministry. There is plenty to do from within its walls that will minister to others. Even one trip a day out of the home can destroy proper priorities in a woman's life.
Remember Superwoman is a figment of someone's very active imagination. Something is going to use up your time and how anyone can find time to do more than her domestic duties that God has given her in His word is beyond me. Something is going to go undone, and it's usually the ones that should be at the top of our list!
Beside the fact that it damages our children (when we find other things more important to us than they are) women are missing so much that cannot be reclaimed and is so wonderfully valuable.
Go buy a little piece of clothesline and string it up at your daughter's height. Buy some little clothespins at the craft store. Pick a warm, sunny day and get her two dishpans and fill one with sudsy water and one with warm rinse water. Help her wash her dolly's clothes and hang them up. You can be the neighbor lady or the grandma of the baby. After they're dry let her help iron them and put them away.
I can promise you that this will be one of those "Mom, do you remember when?" moments in your life.
Take your little boy and go outside and help him make a town in the dirt. Little streets for his trucks and a little field for his tractors. Name his little town with him. Get down on the ground and play with him! He won't forget the day you did that when he is grown.
Women are so busy today chasing valueless things and it breaks my heart. Each generation is showing the loss of their spiritual moorings and I firmly believe that the mama that wore an apron, cooked hot homemade meals for her family, found pride in the white shirt she had neatly pressed for her husband and loved sitting in the evenings reading to her family is why the word of God is being "blasphemed" now instead of revered. (Titus 2:5b)
Let's each one have a "heart to heart" with the Lord and decide that we're going to keep our chicks under our wings. It doesn't take money it takes being there. If this message was taken to heart by the saved women that each one of us know it would revolutionize and revive America. You can't do it for anyone else, but you and I can decide that we individually are going to do it.
It is my prayer that each of my "daughters" and "sisters" that read this will "stand perfect and complete in all his will" (Colossians 4:12) in this area of your life. Let's hold each other up and "pray and obey" together. The dividends are eternal!

Tea Cups and Dusting

Saturday is my cleaning day. I have a lot of glassware to dust. I inherited my love of glassware from both of my grandmothers. The town they lived in had two glass factories.

In his younger days my maternal grandfather had worked at one of the factories and brought home pieces to my grandmother. She would take me through her house and tell me the story behind each piece. Where she got it and how it came to belong to her. My favorites were the ones that she said, "I began housekeeping with this." Her first set of salt shakers now belong to my oldest daughter Niki.

My paternal grandmother collected teacups, teapots and Dutch boys and girls. I have a Dutch collection in my kitchen dedicated to her. Its first pieces were a little Dutch boy and girl I painted for her when I was about 5 and living in Kansas City.

Dusting for me is a little walk down memory lane and a time to pray for people who have given me some of my beautiful pieces of glassware. Though I'm at an age where I feel like I need to trim down what I have instead of acquiring more there are some pieces that I will treasure till I die. Not because of their value, but the value of the person who gave it to me.

As I dusted this morning I was a little more nostalgic than usual. It's a rainy day, we've battled the flu, my Alicia is not well with her MS...it all makes you introspective.

I dusted the tea cart and there was my tea set for children. It will go to my oldest granddaughter Mariah some day. I hope she has as many pleasant hours having tea with children as I have had with this tea set. My husband picked it up at an auction for a little bit of nothing. But oh, have we got joy from it that has no price tag it's so valuable. We load the tiered plate rack with little sandwiches, cookies and fruits or cheese and make cambric tea for the children and let them feel like they are at the fanciest tea room in the country--Grandma Tami's!

Then came my tea cups from my Grandmother Nelle--my paternal grandmother. I thanked the Lord for her influence in my life as I dusted the delicate bone china cups.

She had a long shelf in her kitchen lined with beautiful teacups and teapots. She loved the ones in dark colors with gold on the inside or edges and she loved the footed cups. Her life was a hard one. My grandfather was a womanizer and moved to Florida with one of his women. In those days the person wronged had to sue for the divorce and my grandma never divorced him. She made the comment to me that just because he broke his vows didn't mean she had to break hers. She is a heroine in my life. Maybe the beautiful teacups and teapots gave her joy in the midst of a lonely, gray life.

When I got my first job I bought her a very expensive pink teapot with tiny roses on it. It was from Sadler, England. When she died my aunt remembered I had given it to her and brought it back to me. I always see my grandmother and her kitchen when I dust it.

Oh, and there's the cup and saucer that my mother gave me as my last birthday gift from her before she died. "Lord, please tell mother hello and that I miss her every day of my life."

Then there's the beautiful footed teapot with matching saucer that took so much of Asher's hard earned money to buy for me. "Lord, bless that boy with such a huge servant's heart. Take his gift of loving to give more than receive and use it for Yourself. "

And my teacup I bought in East Liverpool on our annual preaching week with our friends Chester and Barb. Barb and I loved to plunder in little shops and I want to always take home a memory of my time with them. East Liverpool is known for its fine clay and Fiestaware is made there. Also I believe the Hall pottery is made there. Imagine my delight when I found a beautiful deep blue teacup with the gold inside (my grandmother Nelle would have loved it) marked East Liverpool and at the grand price of $2.00! "Lord, bless our ministry friends as they walk the valleys and mountains for You."

There's the beautiful chintz teapot my daughter Niki gave me. The Victorian feel is there and I think of her, my writing daughter, curled up on a rainy day like today with pen in hand and the words just flowing. "Lord, thank you for a daughter that has given her talent to be used by You."

I lovingly dust a teacup and saucer with words etched on it. "Rest in the Lord and wait patiently for Him." Ps. 37:7. This cup was given to me by my older sister when I walked the horrible dark valley of depression. Now I look at it and think of my rambunctious child, the one who loved the outdoors, riding her bike, go-carting, activity-- fighting her battle with MS. Perhaps this teacup should be passed on to my daughter... "Lord, help my beautiful daughter Alicia to trust You even when she can't see You in the thick darkness..."

My latest teapot is Dutch but too beautiful and delicate to go to the kitchen. She is the queen of the teacart! Her head is thrown up to the sun and her big basket of flowers makes me long for the spring to come so I can smell the honeysuckle again in Tennessee. She was purchased on my last trip to Idaho. It was love at first sight. When I told Gary about what a beautiful Limoge teapot I'd found in a gift shop he didn't ask the price or why I wanted another teapot. He simply said, "You get down there tomorrow and get her shipped here." Oh Lord, thank You for such a loving, thoughtful husband. Thank You that we're still sweethearts and best friends after 35 years of marriage. Thank You that Your word does pay us back when we obey it."

And then I think of my Idaho children, isolated from the rest of the family as they walk in obedience to the Lord's calling. Lord, comfort and encourage them. Give them fellowship and "family" from You out there."

I have my odd shaped teapots. The one that is a copy of transferware was given to me by John and Cierra (via daddy) so they could have a part in mommy's tea room. "Lord, bless these late blessings you've brought into your lives and use them in a mighty way."

My last teacup I'll mention is a broken one. I've mended it more than once. Years ago we went into an old barn just filled with junk. The older four were little then and the boys went off with their daddy and the girls and I went our way. When we got in the van Nate handed me the most beautiful little teacup. It was missing its saucer, but it was so beautiful because it had a large rose on the front and the handle looked like the stem. He had 50 cents when we went in the barn and he had spent it all to get me a cup with my favorite flower on it. I remember being brought to tears by his being willing to spend everything he had to bring joy to his mother.

It's that delicate handle that got broken over the years but I just keep gluing it and the teacup has center stage in the china cupboard. Sometimes the lives of those that are most precious to us become broken. "Lord, only you can mend the broken lives and hearts and I'm counting on You to do that."

How thankful I am for the people that each teacup or teapot represents. It is good to know that God has given us family and friends to share those things we treasure and find joy in. It is good to bring them before the Father and talk about them, pray for them and thank Him for them.

It all makes dusting a joy!