For the past month I’ve been sharing a small portion of the blessings I’ve experienced in my lifetime. It would take years to express my gratitude for all the things God has done for me. As we begin the Advent season and look forward to the birth of the Messiah, let’s turn our hearts to the greatest gift God ever bestowed upon mankind. He left His throne in heaven to live among us. Born in poverty. Laid upon a mound of hay in a trough that animals used. Swaddled in strips of cloth to keep his tiny body warm. Cuddled in His mother’s arms He nursed at her breast. This tiny child would become the Savior of the world. He would be both fully human and fully God so that He could experience what we do and pay for the iniquities of us all. His birth was nothing special, but His gift to the world was more than we deserved. Let us not forget this inconceivable, unconditional love that has never been surpassed.
There’s a voice in the wilderness crying,
A call from the ways untrod:
Prepare in the desert a highway,
A highway for our God!
The valleys shall be exalted,
The lofty hills brought low;
Make straight all the crooked places,
Where the Lord our God may go!
THANK YOU, JESUS, FOR ANOTHER DAY OF YOUR AMAZING GRACE. YOUR LOVE ENDURES FOREVER!
It’s hard to believe that it’s been eight years since we moved from the bustling metropolis of Minneapolis to the tiny burb of Anoka, MN. Talk about time flying. Every year about this time, I’m reminded of the Johnson Street Turkeys of Northeast Minneapolis. Our house on the hill displayed the skyline of this ever-growing city. It was a convenient place to live – close to all major freeways – with a plethora of ethnic restaurants – a great art community and the home to a flock of turkeys that thought they owned the neighborhood.
This flock had grown from a few scrawny birds into a thriving hoard of healthy, sumptuous looking, glorious turkeys that would grace any Thanksgiving table. The neighborhood I now live in is lacking such luxurious birds. I’ve seen a few on occasion, but the feral cats around here seem to have discouraged their return.
The Johnson Street Turkeys (not to be confused with a local rock band or gang) were written about in the local newspaper. They had become quite the item. It was said they knew how to cross the street on the traffic light, which I didn’t really believe, but stranger things have happened in the city. They often were seen racing after a mail or garbage truck or scaring the bejeebers out of some kid on his way to school. For some reason, they enjoyed feeding on the cocoa mulch in my garden.
Once, as my husband was driving past the butcher shop, he noticed one of the turkeys had strayed from the flock. It appeared that the bird was dead as it was stretched out with its face down. It was right next to the railroad tracks. One of the butchers, from said butcher shop, ran towards it with meat cleaver in hand. Fortunately the bird lived to see another day, as he rose from the deepness of sleep and took off just in time.
The Johnson Street Turkeys seemed to avoid the neighborhood during Thanksgiving week. Apparently, being city birds, they were very street smart. Since our current dwelling is closer to nature, I would expect to see more wildlife, but so far, the wildlife is more closely related to the human type. Of course, I now live in the Halloween Capitol of the World. Maybe that’s not such a good thing.
Tomorrow is the last day of November and the first Sunday of Advent. As I come to the close of the many things I’m thankful for, it’s time to look ahead to the adventure that awaits. Winter is in full swing up here in Lake Woebegone country. Another winter storm warning is in effect for this weekend and fresh, glistening diamonds will soon dot our landscape. Temperatures are in the low 20s, so I guess you could say we are into the last season of the year. So, today I am thankful for tomorrows. Like Little Orphan Annie, the eternal optimist, I know that the sun will come up tomorrow even if we don’t see it. A new blanket will cover the tracks made over the past couple of days. The whiteness and purity of that covering will help us to look forward. Only God knows what lies ahead, but one thing we know for sure is that He has our future in His hands. Before there were seasons, God was there. When the earth and sky were formed out of the darkness, God was there. When He created the inhabitants of the world – the mountains and valleys – He was there. He was there when His creation was disrupted by devil. He continues to be with us today and has promised never to leave us. Like the whiteness of winter covers the ugliness of the dirt below, we have been washed clean from the filth of sin. Death has no power over us. We can be sure that even when our time on earth is done, our lives will continue in eternity, because God is always there. That is a promise that we can count on, because God never lies.
Moon beams sift through pines on fallen snow. Light sufficient to find the way back home. A heavy load weighs on resistant ice below. Weight of the world upon that glistening dome. The tree of life stands firmly in its place. It will not move in any time or space. For God so loved this world He would not spare The One who came to us – His love to share. To melt the ice of frozen hearts in sin. Renewed, refreshed and washed by Him within.
It’s the day after Thanksgiving and it’s Friday. According to the current calendar, this is the time folks generally do their Christmas shopping in hopes of getting the most bang for their buck. It’s also time for some to put up the traditional Christmas tree. I recall bundling up our entire family and going to a tree farm to cut a fresh tree ourselves – not only for the money we’d save, but the family time spent together. That adventure usually ended with the perfect tree, which artist, Paul, would search for diligently. Time ticked away and so did our patience. Our great outdoorsman would measure, hold up his thumb to get the perfect perspective and lift his axe to start the process. By now, our fearless woodsy guy had icicles hanging from his beard and eyebrows. The children were red faced and waddled about the best they could in all their winter wear. Me – well, let’s just say I went along for the ride and the family time. Being almost December, we would have a fresh Christmas tree that would most likely shed its needles in the middle of the month, but we cut it ourselves – the old fashioned way.
Memories of my own childhood reminded me of my dad’s version of cutting down the tree. He would wait until the day before Christmas and get the last tree on the lot for the best price ever. My sister and I would fill all the empty spots with tinsel and ornaments as dad sat in his chair, directing the entire process. The painting today is a look at a perfect Christmas Tree, without all the trimmings. Fridays might be “black” to some, but the Friday I’m reminded of is called “Good” Friday. On that day, our Savior, Jesus, was nailed to a tree. He suffered and died there so that the entire world would gain eternal life. That’s why we call it “Good” Friday.
I will not venture out on this Black Friday. I tried it once and that was enough. I went to buy a new bed for our dog which was only $7.00. I bought the bed and spent more than a hundred dollars on other things after waiting for over an hour in line, chatting with other customers. People were chattier back then.
So, even though Thanksgiving has come and gone, I continue to be thankful. I thank God for Fridays and the significance of that day. My Savior took on human flesh and was born into poverty. The Son of God – Emanuel – came to earth to conquer death and to make every day special.
This painting appeared in my memories today. It’s one I’ve used before. Paul painted it two years ago after the first snow of the season. It remains one of my favorites. Today is the National Day of Thanksgiving and I’ve chosen to be grateful for firsts and lasts – those times from the past and those we look forward to in the future. As I recall a rich and full life with the man I loved, there are mountains of past memories that I hold so dear.
To my precious husband of 60 years: I am so grateful for our time together. Our first date. Our first kiss. Our wedding. Our family. Our struggles and how we overcame them. Our disagreements. Our goals our dreams and how we achieved them. As I look at those firsts, I see a life of commitment, challenges and a common faith with God at the center. Now that you’re gone, I look at a whole new set of firsts. Your first birthday celebration without you. Valentines Day alone. Easter – thinking of you with our Savior, joining in His victory over death. The many little road trips we took the last year we shared together. Enjoying God’s beauty through His creation and your artistic hand. As I look back. what I see today is a blessed life filled with treasured memories. As I look ahead, there will be more firsts. Today is not our first Thanksgiving apart. There were many years of deer hunting in Wisconsin that determined that. We always managed to share a big feast together and with family on an alternate date. Christmas comes next and each of these firsts get just a little harder to manage alone. On New Years Day, it will be one year since you left this world and journeyed into the next. As I witnessed your struggle to hang on for the sake of those you loved, I asked you to save me a spot in your new forever home. Grieving has been slow for me, but not without tears. Each of those lasts – those memories – the life we shared – live on and will even when my time has come. Happy first Thanksgiving in heaven, my precious soul mate.
The time is drawing near. Our battle soon is done. Our world no longer here, but with God’s only Son. So let us now prepare for pastures green and calm. Lift up our hearts in cheer and hold us in your palm.
No more will sting of death, engulf my mind with fear. He’s given me new breath and blotted every tear. Today I thank you, Lord, for all that you have done. Let me now share your Word with each and everyone.
THANK YOU, JESUS, FOR ANOTHER DAY TO LOOK FORWARD TO THE BEST FIRST EVER!
The first image is the view out my kitchen window this morning. The second is another oil pastel indicating the wind that swept through and brought the morning snow.
We received our real first snowfall last night. As we slept, rain turned into ice and coated the ground with a natural ice rink. Not sure just how much is out there, but enough to cover the fallen leaves now a distant memory. Many would ask what is there to be thankful for when it comes to winter. It’s mornings like this, when all has been given a shower and shine in one fell swoop. Like going through the carwash and getting the grime eliminated or the washing of our dirty souls by the blood of our Savior. Minnesotans will grumble and complain until the driveways are cleared, and the broken frozen branches are collected. Before that even begins, take time this morning to enjoy the view. We may groan at the work ahead, but this is why we live here. The seasons each bring another exclusive landscape by the King of Creation.
Moon beams sift through pines on new fallen snow,
Light sufficient to find the way back home,
Heavy load weighs on icy roads below,
Weight of the world upon that glistening dome.
The tree of life stands firmly in its place,
It will not move in any time or space,
For God so loved this world He would not spare,
The One who came to us – His love to share,
To melt the ice of frozen hearts in sin,
Refreshed and washed as white as snow by Him.
THANK YOU, JESUS, FOR ANOTHER DAY – FOR WASHING US CLEAN AND PROVIDING MOISTURE FOR THE EARTH.
As most Americans blessed to live in this country, I am proud to be part of a diverse nation. Not only are we a melting pot, but we’re part of a colorful mosaic of races and cultures. Inside the giant puzzle of complex sizes and shapes we combine to create a masterpiece. Sometimes those individual pieces have difficulty fitting together, but with cooperation and determination the beauty will eventually show itself. As we gather to celebrate Thanksgiving. take a moment to thank God for our country in spite of our differences. Instead, look at those traits as a bonding of uniqueness which should unite us. We have all been put here for a reason. As individuals we can do great things but imagine what we can do together. The painting today is representative of diversity. It shows the majesty of God’s creation by blending basic colors, shapes and images into a thing of beauty.
In the heart of the forest, what is it you see,
The death of the bush or the loss of a tree,
They die for a while, and are restored again,
Spring pushes each bud, giving life deep within,
Our days undefiled and sins now washed clean,
With the pure life of Jesus, we now can convene,
The darkness of winter can leave deep remorse,
We wander away and relinquish our course,
The coldest of days will be warmed through the night,
Our Savior will comfort and hold each one tight,
He won’t let us go, if we trust in His Word,
Our souls are renewed and our steps undeterred.
THANK YOU, JESUS, FOR ANOTHER DAY AND THE UNITY YOU PROVIDE THROUGH THE TRUTH OF YOUR GOSPEL.
This watercolor pencil sketch reminds me of the starkness of an army protecting something within. It takes more than one individual to nurture someone’s faith. In my case, I’m still a work in progress. The end of our learning, growing, stretching, building doesn’t come until our final breath. My growth began at my baptism. I was fortunate to have a set of parents who really cared about my spiritual growth – even though I didn’t realize it at the time. I was taught to fold my hands and pray as a young child. I learned all the important prayers that were easily memorized and often said in rote, so they didn’t necessarily have a profound effect on me. It took a lot of patience, love, prodding, restructuring, and learning to build something out of the little girl who thought she knew everything. I was fortunate to attend parochial school from 7th grade through high school. I had no idea the sacrifices my parents had to make for that to happen. I would much have preferred going to public school where everything was shiny and new and where all my friends were going. Instead, I spent middle school in one classroom including 5th-8th grade. It was warmed by a pot-bellied stove. Mittens were placed on top of that relic and boots dripped ice on the floor. The teacher seemed like he was 90 years old, but most likely only 40. I fought this set up for six years wondering why. I look back on those days now with thanksgiving because all of those ancient teachers were filled with knowledge that far surpassed anything I would’ve received elsewhere. They were dedicated not only to teaching the basics but devoted to sharing the Gospel with my hungry mind. Relatives and family friends also influenced that growth. We cannot underestimate the gift we’re giving our young people when we share God with them right from the start. As I watch my one-year-old great-grandson walking cautiously up to the altar to hear the children’s message, I am encouraged that even at this tender age, he’s receiving the one thing needful to each and every one of us. Thank you to all those who share their love of God with others.
A seed is sown into rich soil while others spill over to sandy or rocky areas, getting lost. When the seed takes root in that precious ground, the beginning of life emerges.
Though there will be times when weeds invade and begin to choke, but the nurturer is persistent. Digging deeply to reach the end of that spiteful root, he pulls it out of the ground giving room for the seed to flourish.
Weather and other elements of nature will invade the growing seed. If consistently cared for there is hope of a good outcome. It takes more than one individual to make this happen. An entire army of soldiers of the cross is required.
We are like those seeds, planted with optimism and hope. The sower knows some of those seeds won’t survive, but he doesn’t give up. Continuous attention and love drive him. What kind of nurturer are you? What kind of seed do you claim to be. When God is in the planting, we are all survivors.
THANK YOU, JESUS FOR ANOTHER DAY AND FOR THOSE WHO PLANT YOUR WORD INTO WAITING MINDS.
When we think about caretakers our minds might shift to those who take care of the land – those who provide food for our tables – those who take us from place to place when we can no longer drive – those who bring a meal when we can’t cook – the ones who care for little ones while moms go to work – and the list goes on. I like to consider all those who befriend us in any way to be caretakers. They warm our souls when we feel sad. They lift our hearts when we need encouragement. They care not only for physical needs, but our emotional and spiritual needs. Today I thank God for friends. I am blessed to have many. God has allowed me to take care of others and in turn, they have taken care of me
Give thanks to the Lord for His creation, In His hands all things came into existence, The trees perfectly designed and crafted to bring shade, comfort, and shelter, The seas in all their majesty, blown into place by His breath, Abundant with life, food for our stomachs and beauty to behold, The sky is filled with the voice and color of His paintbrush, A glimmering sunset, a rainbow of promise, clouds to gather the tears of man, The secret places are His also, He formed great mountains from formless clay, He carved the crevices from steely granite, penciled in the lines, Washed the canvas with water, tweaked, punched, chiseled, He created every living thing, Formed from nothing into intricately executed works of art, Giving the first man a likeness of Himself, And the first woman taken from the ribs of the man, To forever be a part of him, God is the Creator of all things, Let us praise Him and thank Him for His wondrous gifts, And remind us that He created us to be the caretakers of His creation.
WASHINGTON DC, UNITED STATES – NOVEMBER 25: Outside Cathedral St Matthew John John Kennedy salutes his father’s coffin with members of the Kennedy family (L-R) From left: Senator Edward Kennedy, Caroline Kennedy, Jackie Kennedy, Attorney General Robert Kennedy and John Kennedy during the funeral on November 25, 1963 in Washington DC, United States. (Photo by Keystone-France/Gamma-Keystone via Getty Images)
This is a rerun of a post I wrote six years ago in remembrance of John F, Kennedy’s funeral after being gunned down by an assassin. The story has faded from the news in recent years, but those of us who were witness to the events leading up to the actual crime and the events which followed, we will never forget. It was a difficult time in history. As I’m seeing in our world, all of our history has been fraught with terror, fear and hatred. The story references a poem that JFK read to his wife on the return from their honeymoon. It was almost prophetic of the truth that would unfold only a few years later.
The photograph was taken as the funeral procession made it’s way towards St. Patrick’s Cathedral. With a little prodding from his mother, John Kennedy, Jr. made the final salute to his father and the Commander in Chief of the United States of America.
The nation was in a state of shock to think that this man with such a bright future, could be cut down by an assassin’s bullet. It was like the tragic ending to a well orchestrated fairy tale. I remember the day well. Like September 11th when our country was attacked by terrorists. Thoughts of Pearl Harbor come to mind. It seems every time our nation is rocked by something like this, the best of human nature and patriotism come to the forefront again. What a sad commentary on our society.
The story of “Camelot” was a favorite of President Kennedy. He enjoyed reading about the adventures of King Arthur and his round table of knights and advisors. He was moved by the character of Arthur, even though he was surrounded by a world of fantasy and magic. When the musical version of “Camelot” appeared on Broadway, Jackie and John fell in love with the camaraderie of the King and his men – with the evil Mordred and Morgan le Fey and their villainous intents for the throne – the Magician, Merlin – the swashbuckling spectacle – the illicit affair of Queen Guenevere and Lancelot. It all rather mirrored the life of the Kennedy dynasty.
After JFK’s funeral, his wife revived the Camelot image when she was quoted as saying,
“Don’t let it be forgot, that once there was a spot, for one brief, shining moment that was known as Camelot. There’ll be great presidents again … but there will never be another Camelot.” — Jacqueline Kennedy
As we recall the events of that horrific week of assassination, investigation, murder of the murder of the assassin, trying to make sense of all of it – the nation was in a state of turmoil, but that chaos brought us together as fellow countrymen. God has a plan for everything that happens in life. It is part of the greatest story ever known and the love of God for His people. Each of us plays one of the characters in the plot. Some suffer more than others. Some go through financial, health, grief and loss issues while others manage to go unscathed.
The truth is that God is in charge, even during the troubling times of life. As Creator of all things, He took what once was nothing but chaos and made a paradise from it. If He can accomplish such greatness, He will also take the ugly things we face and turn them into something for our good and the good of all those who love Him.
Kennedy has been revered as a great president. I wonder what he would have to say about what’s going on in our country today. One of his favorite poems was written by Alan Seeger more than a hundred years ago:
I HAVE A RENDEZVOUS WITH DEATH
I have a rendezvous with Death At some disputed barricade, When Spring comes back with rustling shade And apple-blossoms fill the air— I have a rendezvous with Death When Spring brings back blue days and fair.
It may be he shall take my hand And lead me into his dark land And close my eyes and quench my breath— It may be I shall pass him still. I have a rendezvous with Death On some scarred slope of battered hill, When Spring comes round again this year And the first meadow-flowers appear.
God knows ’twere better to be deep Pillowed in silk and scented down, Where love throbs out in blissful sleep, Pulse nigh to pulse, and breath to breath, Where hushed awakenings are dear… But I’ve a rendezvous with Death At midnight in some flaming town, When Spring trips north again this year, And I to my pledged word am true, I shall not fail that rendezvous.
Today we honor the man and his service to the United States of America.
The painting today is an oil pastel, which allows the artist to paint softly. I’m sure there are other reasons to use this medium, but I like the effect it has on the mood it creates. When I look at this barren landscape, my thoughts turn to progress – of which I am very thankful. Without that aspect of life, we would remain stagnant and never move on. I just finished watching the Ken Burns special on PBS about the American Revolution. It is a thought-provoking series which explores all sides of the founding of our country and the war that seemed to go on forever. I will go into my thoughts at another time, but today I simply want to dwell on the soft side of progress and my gratitude for it. For many, progress leads to greed and greed leads to lust and so on and so on. God wants us to use progress to advance His goodness and love for the world. It is often an uphill battle, but with Him, it is also possible. When He leads and we follow, progress will always be good.
Within the mountain’s early dawn, His majesty is seen,
The skies fill up with brilliance, and glorious golden sheen,
His breath is seen in morning mist, His voice through eagles’ song,
His power displays in sunlit rays, He shines the whole day long,
His love for us unspoken, but seen in every rock,
He leads us like a shepherd protects his wandering flock,
I am so weak and fragile, like many a stubborn sheep,
My trust oft wanes, my fears o’er take, I toss through dream filled sleep,
My tears won’t stop, may faith grows weak, I stumble all the way,
But He’s right there, surrounding me, protecting me each day,
I’ll never grow to understand His unconditional love,
But thank Him that He grants it from His throne high up above,
My God, you are my fortress, my strength when I am weak,
You carry me through deserts, you lead me when you speak,
Through pastures green and waters clean, fulfilling every need,
You fill my heart with gratitude, my soul your Word does feed.
The mountains are a perfect location to view God’s majesty. This painting shows how those mountains were precisely carved by His own hand. The sky is filled with His breath as it moves throughout the expanse. Trees point upwards to view His face, but no one sees it. This God, who created all things – who guides the way of its inhabitants – who provides for all their needs – who knows what is in their hearts -who feels their pain and has healing in His wings – this is the One true God. Each day has already been mapped out for our lives. In a world that is filled with uncertainty, evil and hate, we can be sure that He is there to turn the chaos into order. I thank Him for giving me a life filled with challenges, frustration and depression, because He has also given me a balance through His Holy Word. The blessings far outweigh the bad stuff. Life in this world is not perfect, but God’s own Son made it possible for us to achieve perfection both here and in eternity. Our true home is heaven. I look forward to it more and more each day. In life and death, oh LORD, abide with me.
Were you there when He placed the land and divided the waters,
Did you witness the division of night and day,
Were your eyes open as each living cell was formed into a thing of beauty,
Did you smell the smoke as it sprang from the mountains at His touch,
He was there,
He made it happen,
He alone,
No big bang or explosion,
Just His voice,
He spoke, and it was,
His Word is sufficient,
Who can claim such glory,
Who can design such beauty from nothing,
Who can take a tiny seed and grow it into towering tree,
The painting today reveals a lovely waterfall painted in watercolor paint. The blessing of a scene like this is how it reminds me of tears. We cry for various reasons – mainly because it’s a sign of release. The endorphins and enkephalins released when we cry are fancy words for neurotransmitters which alert the body of pain and act as a natural pain killer and mood enhancer. (I got that from Google.) “Fearfully and wonderfully made.” Psalm 139:14. (I got that from the Word of God.) The point is that tears are an amazing gift that help us through pain, stress and even emotionally good things. We cry when we hurt. We cry when we’re stressed. We cry when are sad or emotionally spent. Yet we also cry when we’re happy – when we see a baby take their first steps – when your child gets married – when your team wins. There are a whole lot of reasons to cry. All of them are blessings I can’t let go unnoticed. Tears revitalize, restore and are a built-in attribute that God knows we need to help us survive the traumas and joys of life.
Tears begin as a small release of saline,
The ducts well to full capacity,
With each thought,
Emotion,
Feeling,
Tugging at the heart,
Spreading evenly across the cheeks,
Down they fall,
Coming faster now,
Diluting,
Raging,
Purging,
Until they eclipse the soul,
Cleansing,
Emptying every sin before God,
Repenting,
Confessing,
Absolved,
Through His tears,
His pain and suffering,
We achieve forgiveness,
And now tears of joy remain.
THANK YOU, JESUS FOR ANOTHER DAY, FILLED WITH THANKSGIVING FOR TEARS!
Today I’m grateful for farms and the family farmers that continue to operate throughout our land. Those who have stayed with it during times of plenty and times of loss. I didn’t grow up on a farm, but I spent a lot of time on the one my mother spent her childhood years enjoying. Almost every summer my sister and I would board the Milwaukee Road train and travel to grandma and grandpa’s farm. Imagine sending two young girls off on a train without a chaperone. Times were obviously very different then. The sound of the train rolling over tracks of steel as steam poured out of its sides. The chug-a-lug created a rhythm all its own as we sat in our seats looking out over the great expanse of prairie land, dotted with family farmsteads of various sizes and shapes. Fields were freshly plowed, waiting to be planted. The rich, black soil lined with rows for planting. Every child should have an experience on a farm. Even if it’s for a short time. It’s like being in a different time and place. Watching cows being milked by hand, as grandma would occasionally squirt some towards a feral cat or two. Seeing the plants grow over time and being harvested in late August. There’s nothing like it. Life on a farm isn’t easy, especially today with so many of them being sold to large corporations. I give the farmers who stuck with it, a lot of credit for their faith and perseverance. As Paul and I would take our little road trips, we we’d often stop to take a photo of some of these older operations. Paul enjoyed using them as subject matter for a lot of his paintings. So, today thank a farmer for continuing to provide food for our tables and a lot of fond memories.
The soil is rich for planting. The land provides for crops.
We take so much for granted when strolling through the shops.
Does meat appear in plastic – do eggs show up in crates?
The food goes through some changes before it hits our plates.
Farmers rise up with the sun, to care of all our needs.
They plow fields and milk the cows and some will plant the seeds.
When you sit down to dinner, be sure to bow your head,
Thank God He gives us farmers to give us daily bread.
I chose the above painting today because it depicts the darkness you can feel when you think you need to wear a mask or try to be someone you really aren’t. From a very young age, I have been an entertainer. I performed before my parents, family and friends because I thought it was my job. Being the first grandchild on both sides put me in the spotlight for the first few years of my life. After a while, more children entered the scene with their own brands of showing off. Still, being the actress I was born to be, I persisted. I spent most of my life hiding behind a different character on stage as well as in my relationships. I never felt the real me was good enough. I knew my parents and sister loved me. I knew my relatives loved me except when I made them join me on stage. As time went on, I found I had to try harder to become what they wanted me to be. I once heard that aging allows you to forget about pleasing the audience and it made a lot of sense. For all those years of trying so hard to please so many, I forgot who I really was. When we realize that God loves us in spite of our mistakes, our foolish choices and our sin, a whole new outlook can come our way. This allows us to be who we are and what God intended us to be. Not only is He our Father, our brother, our counselor and friend, but He has our back every day. We can count on that.
When we have the ability to walk the streets without fear,
To pad through the glory of the environment with wild abandon,
To soak in everything within our grasp with no ties or bondage,
To persist in spite of all the darkness which the evil one stirs up,
To breathe the fresh air of God’s creation and observe its magnificence,
To hold the things in life that we treasure as precious,
We have experienced deliverance from a world which has run amok.
We are free from the restraints of a sick society that dwells on self,
We are untangled and able to express our ideas, creativity and dreams.
Without fear of recrimination, but with freedom to stir the imagination,
We can fly to great heights, soar with the eagles,
Reach the pinnacle unknown, yet within our grasp,
While still feeling secure and safe,
Free from the tyranny of self-serving individuals,
Alive with confidence, assurance, determination and hope,
Knowing that we are saved eternally,
Simply by believing in the freedom already won for us,
When I was a kid, it was always fun to hear a story right before going to bed. I think some of them were meant to scare us to pieces, while others had some kind of moral. We heard from Mother Goose, the Brothers Grimm (the scary guys,) the Happily Ever Afters and others based on folk tales. One of them, “The Sky is Falling” was about a hen named, Chicken Little. The story doesn’t have much of a plot, but it shows how things get out of hand when we panic or exaggerate things. In other words – mass hysteria.
A branch falls on Chicken Little’s tail and she believes the sky is falling. She feels compelled to tell the others about it so they can save themselves. The Villain, Foxy Loxy (pictured in the shadows of today’s painting,) eventually takes advantage of the situation and invites her into his house for dinner. Little does she know, she is dinner. Moral of the story – Don’t believe everything you hear, unless it’s backed up with some kind of proof or evidence. Fear mongering doesn’t accomplish anything but put you into a stew.
There are tons of lessons available when we experience trials of any kind. It’s time to reclaim the sky. I can say for a fact, the last time I looked outside, the sun was shining and all was well. Life goes on and there will be more of the same tomorrow. Trusting in the Creator of the universe is much better than complaining about what is totally out of our control, it’s time to work on the things we can change.
Those things start with our attitude. They’re nurtured through experience and what we take away from them. The pandemic of 2024 stirred a new way of living. Technology replaced much of our daily communication and isolation made us leery of being in large groups, so like all living things, when push comes to shove, we adapt. Still, we can be sure of God’s promises. He’ll help us muddle through and figure out what to do next. In the meantime, the sky remains in His hands.
There are times when we just need to be alone. You wouldn’t think it the case when you’re grieving. Most folks tell us not to retreat from life – to stay involved – don’t draw inward, but there are moments when being alone is a welcome relief. To sit in a quiet place all by yourself – with no distractions – no thoughts of the negative – just you, alone. Then you realize that you are really never alone. Even in those seconds when you feel the world is closing in on you. Even when the outside noise turns into a cacophony of mixed up sounds. Even when confusion invades your mind. Even when the light turns into darkness. You are never alone. That is when realize that we need God with us and He is always there. He supports, sustains, delivers, renews and refreshes us by showing us the beauty of His creation. He gives us hope for the future, because our future is assured. So, even when those alone times are sometimes necessary, we can be confident that our God is right beside us all the way.
A quiet place where life stands still – an instant safety zone, A place for sweet reflection, a place to be alone, Where waters blue surround you, where peace is everywhere, Where you can hear the voice of God, in quiet, thoughtful prayer, He may not give us answers that we would like to hear, But in the sweet serenity, He holds us ever near, The beauty of those moments, renew – refresh – restore, So we can handle all the things the world may have in store, Within that peaceful time with God, our eyes will never close, New life is ours when we believe our every need He knows, He has designed what’s best for us, He knows our every need He proved it when He gave to us, His Son to intercede, Though we may need to sort things out, we never walk alone, God has a plan for all of us to reach His heavenly throne.
Pheasant hunting began about a month ago and extends from October 11, 2025, through January 4, 2026. I remember my uncle hunting for these beautiful birds when I was a child. He had all the trappings necessary to bag his limit. When he finished the hunt, the birds were turned over to his wife to retrieve the decorative plumage for making hats. She was a master at crafting these feathers into headgear that would make any woman proud. When I married a hunter, I wasn’t about to pluck pheasant feathers, but I was also surprised one day to find a pair of these colorful birds in the refrigerator. Rigor mortis had already set in. The birds remained in their original form, but I certainly wasn’t ready to greet them in that way. Since my own father wasn’t a hunter, I had to learn a new way of expecting the unexpected when I entered married life. This print is a one of a kind and I love it especially because it shows the expanse of the bird, ready to take flight. I imagine these two were filling up on remnants from an empty cornfield. I am giving thanks today for the ability to pray openly to God, the Father. We have the benefit of that communication, because it was a gift that Jesus provided along with our salvation. We can talk directly to God, because the wall has been broken down. Today, give thanks for that gift. There is no need for an intermediary. God, the Father, is available to us at all times.
Give thanks to the Lord for His creation,
In His hands all things came into existence,
The trees perfectly designed and crafted to bring shade, comfort, and shelter,
The seas in all their majesty, blown into place by His breath,
Abundant with life, food for our stomachs and beauty to behold,
The sky is filled with the voice and color of His paintbrush,
A glimmering sunset, a rainbow of promise, clouds to gather the tears of man,
The secret places are His also, He formed great mountains from formless clay,
He carved the crevices from steely granite, penciled in the lines,
Washed the canvas with water, tweaked, punched, chiseled,
He created every living thing,
Formed from nothing into intricately executed works of art,
Giving the first man a likeness of Himself,
And the first woman taken from the rib of the man,
To forever be a part of him,
God is the Creator of all things,
Let us praise Him and thank Him for His wondrous gifts,
And remind us that He created us to be the caretakers of His creation.
This past week, God has been painting the sky to reflect the beautiful color on the ground. In Minnesota, we’ve been blessed to see the Northern Lights – gorgeous sunsets – amazing sunrises. The painting I’ve chosen for today is somewhat similar to what many experienced as they looked at the night sky a couple nights ago. I’m not sure what the source was for this work, but it does mimic slightly what happens when the Northern Lights shine in the sky. Today is November 14th. We’re almost half-way through the month. Some might refer to this as Indian Summer – when God displays all His majesty in the heavens and on earth. His artistry lasts throughout the year. The seasons change. The landscape is altered. Life springs forth and withers away. Much like the seasons of our own lives. We wait for that perfect paradise that lays beyond the grave. Where we will experience even greater beauty. For now, we thank God for His consistency, His presence, His faithfulness and His unconditional love. Thank you, Jesus for another day and the blessings from your paintbrush.
The piercing rays of crimson red, cut through the morning sky,
The hand of God has painted them – a treasure for the eye,
Some say that we should be aware of danger at the door,
When ships don’t sail or hoist the mast, when flowers bloom no more.
Make haste, they offer as advice, tread softly as you go,
The storms may come and ruin the day, stay home and just lay low,
But He who tends the winds and rain will also care for you,
Through all the danger at your door, God surely sees you through.
His mighty hand will comfort you, His mercy is your glue,
The redness soon will dissipate, and skies will turn to blue,
Just trust in His unfailing love, let go of all your fears,
He’s there within your past as now and all your future years.
How many times have you looked back over your life and wondered why memories are so important? Today I am thankful for them. Memories can be a blessing or a curse. Most often there are lessons learned because of them. Some are a reminder of failings or humongous mistakes we’ve made along the way. I am glad that God has given me a good memory so far. I pass the test every time I go through remembering three words at the doctor’s office. I’m good at remembering names. I have a habit of tucking away the bad memories, however. The things that bring anxiety or depression are high on that list. Every once in a while, one of those difficult times returns in the form of a dream or as I face a new challenge in life. We cannot change the past, but we can learn from it. When our personal history is filled with bad memories, it’s time to turn to God for help. It’s also helpful to turn to Him in any situation. In reading His Word, the Bible, you will meet all kinds of people who made poor choices, strayed from God, decided to go it alone – people just like us. Their situations led them back to God and made them stronger. Every day we have a choice. It can be the start of something wonderful and new, or we can dwell on our past mistakes and wallow in self-pity. Thank you, Jesus, for another day – to make new memories.
A rusted pail, a broken wheel within a vacant field,
A house that once was filled with love, the hands of time has stilled,
The remnants of those days gone by, where bounty once did stand,
Show lives wrapped up in simple things as meaningless as sand,
To let them go is difficult, but go they simply must,
These worldly things are useless if in them we put our trust,
The only constant in our life, is Jesus, Christ our Lord,
We find our peace in knowing Him and studying His Word,
Our God will give the things we need when in that hope we trust,
But faith is vital to our hope, and talk to Him we must,
Our God knows just what’s right for us, He’ll never let us down,
So, open up your heart in prayer and you’ll receive a crown,
Those remnants soon will go away and new life will begin,
When we let go and give it up and put our faith in Him.
As I reach the end of my years, I find I have a lot of good information stored up in this old decrepit mind of mine. If I don't write it all down, it may vanish and no one will have the advantage of my thoughts. This is why this blog exists. I love the Lord, Jesus with all my heart and soul. I know I'm undeserving of all He's done for me, but I also know that His love is beyond my comprehension.
I've always wanted to write. I never kept diaries, but tucked my thoughts in my head for future reference. I use them now in creating stories, plays, poetry and my blog.
I continue to learn every day. I believe the compilation of our time spent with God will have huge affect on the way we live. I know I'm a sinner and I need a Savior. I have One through Jesus, Christ.
My book, "Stages - a memoir," is about the seven stages of life from the perspective of a woman. It addresses all the things girls and women go through in life as they travel it with Jesus, and it is available on Amazon.com.
Life is a patchwork of moments — laughter, solitude, everyday joys, and quiet aches. Through scribbled stories, I explore travels both far and inward, from sunrise over unfamiliar streets to the comfort of home. This is life as I see it, captured in ink and memory. Stick around; let's wander together.
God's amazing grace removes walls and replaces those barriers with Jesus, freedom from sin's consequences, freedom to forgive, and freedom to love unconditionally.
atimetoshare.me 
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