Dear Reader:

Yesterday in our Sunday School class, Linda Carson, announced that an epiphany had come to her concerning the search for a new name for our particular class.

Much discussion had preceded the term “touchstone” offered up by a few of its members. After studying the term Linda agreed, wholeheartedly,with this suggestion and researched the term until she had written a wonderful explanation/connection between the term and our Sunday School class.

Immediately, upon first hearing the term, “touchstone,” vague images of gems and pieces of precious jewelry arose in my mind. Ancient civilizations, like Egypt and China, rang a bell but I couldn’t quite pull it all together. So I decided to do some research on the topic.

Like many words….time has evolved and aided into the production of different meanings to this term. Originally a touchstone was a piece of fine-grained dark jasper used for testing alloys of gold by watching the color of the mark that was made from it. Over the years it simply came to mean a “benchmark” or “standard” by which something was judged.

I came across a true story about a monk, who was the only one to survive the Cultural Revolution in China when his monastery was ransacked and all the other monks murdered. Instead of fleeing he remained behind, because in their zeal to find gold and precious stones, the revolutionaries had overlooked the real treasure….the tree of peonies.Here is a short excerpt from the story:

“The monastery suffered terribly during the Cultural Revolution, when gangs of thugs arrived, and stole its religious patrimony, trashed what could not be removed, and then murdered the community of monks who lived there. Except that they missed one, who, extraordinarily, did not run away but instead hid nearby, because he realized that the ignorant revolutionaries had missed the great treasure of the monastery – its tree of peonies.

Such a tree needs looking after, and this he did for years at great personal risk, bringing the oil secretly at night to lubricate its extravagant roots, and ensuring a sufficient supply of water. He never wanted to leave. (Resource- Every Object Has a Story)

He felt that his black button made of “touchstone” had been his good luck charm and it was his destiny to keep the real treasure safe and secure for future generations. 

Today, these Chinese tree peonies, (looking like large shrubs) are still highly prized for the beauty they bestow…During their blooming season these large shrubs can produce as many as 100 exotic-looking blooms.

So to this monk, a “touchstone” was a symbolic good luck charm…a type of  rabbit’s foot of spiritual protection from harm. It was his ‘holding cross.’

Today, according to the Urban Dictionary….touchstone has taken on the following meaning …which is the definition that led Linda to this perfect name for our “all-girl” Sunday School class.

Person of importance. Significant other. Your constant, the person who completes you and makes you whole. A true friend without criticisms and judgments, who loves you unconditionally.

Thank you Linda for this beautiful “mantra” for the crazy gals who comprise our class and show up each Sunday to examine and discover new ideas and paths to help each other along our personal journeys. Each member is a “touchstone” unto herself and others.

“Touchstone”

Touching. Holding. Accepting. Sharing. Supporting. Laughing. Growing. Praying. Laughing. Crying. Joy. Warmth. 

Just a few words to describe a group of women growing their faith so the foundation is like stone, solid and firm. We are studying, discussing, learning from one another, strengthening and expanding our knowledge. 

We are in awe of grace and the sharing of spirituality. We accept ourselves and each other as imperfect beings and discover together God’s wonder. 

We listen, we seek the joy and love of friendship and support. We notice things we may not have before like the whispers of God in the quiet., the uniqueness of nature and each other. We hear, see, and feel the gifts of God’s love. We are thankful for the gift of this class and the sharing of ourselves that occurs each Sunday. 

Thank you Lord, for opening our eyes, ears, and heart each time we meet. Thank you Lord, for the laughter and tears, for the joy and warmth. Please continue to guide us and help us to be open to all you want us to be. Amen.

*Now you see why this class is so special, with people like Linda in it, my friend, one-time (and always) oncology nurse and gifted writer!

So until tomorrow…We understand now, Father, that You are our Touchstone….the One Who loves us unconditionally.

“Today is my favorite day”  Winnie the Pooh

*Yesterday might not have been Mollie’s “favorite” day…what with little Lachlan demanding his oral consumption independence…with no help from mom. It was a long day….but goodness he’s so cute…a tiny “touchstone.”

Dear Reader:

Any time we have snow in Summerville, it is news! True, it was just a ‘dusting’ (as they say) but what a beautiful one. Anne called me a little after seven to tell me it had just started snowing in her yard….so I opened the bedroom door to the deck but I couldn’t see anything. I told Anne to take some pictures (the title photo is one of hers) for me.

I was sad….I love to watch snow falling…it is one of life’s “extras” in my opinion. Five minutes later…guess what…it was snowing in my yard! I quickly got dressed, grabbed the Iphone and headed out. The first thing I did was open my mouth and taste the snow flurries as they blew by….my favorite thing to do as a child and now, again, as a quite “mature” adult!

My neighbor, Susan, was outside with her camera too so we hooked up and ran around, like children, taking each other’s pictures and laughing.

What is it about watching snow flurries fall from the sky that bring a mixture of feelings of joy and peace to oneself? It really seems like a gift from heaven….I can imagine God, with a big snowflake box, shaking it while smiling at all the joy it is bringing lowcountry residents… who don’t get to see snow very often.

It didn’t last long…just a little over an hour…but enough to satisfy my longing for it….and the nice thing is we don’t get stuck with any of the clean-up afterwards….it disappears as quickly as it came… leaving us wondering if we dreamed it or we really did have snow.

So that is why I took pictures as evidence of the fact. Susan mentioned that there is always a distinct and peaceful silence that accompanies snow. She’s right…there is something quite spiritual about a snowfall…even just flurries.

Like Anne’s title photo….the most beautiful pictures are the snow photos captured in their natural state….like this Bradford pear branch…with just a dusting of snow covering it.

Here are two other photos from Anne that she took:

When I sent this photo to Rutledge of his beloved train and Hope the dolphin, Mollie texted back that he was ready to come to Summerville…I had to tell her sadly that the snow flurries had stopped and now it was just plain freezing….too cold to go out and play, with  no snow.

Then I started thinking…was it just last Saturday when Mollie and the boys were here and it was in the high sixties?….We all played outside with just sweat-shirts and t-shirts on. This is one crazy winter weather pattern we are in.

 The cold day yesterday got stranger as the sun would try to peek out among the clouds….One time while I was reading in the happy room…a stream of light from  the sun hit the green plant on the coffee table and it looked like Moses’ burning bush….it just glowed…. turning the leaves white. Beautiful!

And now for the last set of pictorial memories from the snow “dusting’ of 2016.

So until tomorrow….”Snow was falling,
so much like stars
filling the dark trees
that one could easily imagine
its reason for being was nothing more
than prettiness.”
― Mary Oliver

“Today is my favorite day”  Winnie the Pooh

• Matthew, Jackson’s son, who lives in Asheville, got a lot more snow than just pretty flurries…they got the real thing.
• 
• And now let’s look at Henry’s (Brooke’s son who lives in NYC)  patio. What a difference location makes!
• 
• Did you see the beautiful moon last night…I was actually checking emails around 8:30  and I noticed a strange light on the computer so I looked out my window and there was that beautiful silver ball of beauty staring back at me.
• When I took the picture some other light was reflecting so it looked like the moon and then under it another little moon….really strange. Moon and Mini-Me Moon. (The window-screen, which is hardly noticeable at all normally….made the photograph appear like I was looking out a jail cell or something.)
• 

Dear Reader:

You know you’re getting old(er) when your conversations with friends sound more like a charades game than a normal conversation. The problem is those darn names of people who just won’t pop up when you need them.

Brooke called me out of the blue earlier this week and wanted to know if I wanted to escape with her to Edisto for a couple of days….I started packing my bag. It was a short stay…(to winterize the beach house which was basically already done) but it gave us two  days to hang out together.

An example of a typical conversation between us: We might be talking about the lottery or something and one of us would mention how nice it would be to have just enough ‘gold’ to not have to  live from month to month on social security and state retirement. We could travel more and meet exciting people.

Then I add on to the topic by saying…” Just like in that movie…about a group of archaeologists hunting for buried treasure….Oh what was the name of it…something like a, maybe,  ‘Treasure Hunt’ or something.” (I would keep babbling…as Brooke looked blank)…“You know Brooke…the movie with that actor… oh what’s his name…darn it….you know…the one that became “un-angeled” for Meg Ryan in that romantic, chick-flick movie we saw.” 

The light would come on in Brooke’s eyes….”City of Angels”….and suddenly, while still making angel motions, I would scream Nicholas Cage and the movie was National Treasure, Part 1 and 2!!!

Brooke would still be thinking about Meg Ryan and Nicholas Cage in City of Angels and stick her hands out like she was riding a bike…and pout: “My goodness… that poor man gave up being an angel for her and she didn’t have the good sense to open her eyes while riding a bike around the mountains…what a waste.”  

Hopefully you get the gist of the problem…at a certain age every- day names play hide and seek with our memories. It was too chilly this time to sit on the white rockers on the porch but this has been the setting in the past for many solutions to personal, national, and global problems.

*Some of you will be able to relate to the alphabet game used when trying to remember an individual’s name, Brooke said she and Ted do this practically on a daily basis….Brooke will say ” *I think his last name starts with a “D .” When one or the other gets it….Brooke will say “I’m feeling an “S” for the first name” and the game starts again.

I left Wednesday afternoon to go over to Edisto and returned yesterday, driving through the white-knuckle down pour …it reminded me of the 1000 year storm back in October

As I pulled into the driveway, I was ‘un-peeling’ my fingers from the steering wheel….I wished that I had stopped at the store and picked up some “artificial” logs for the fireplace…I felt a chill from the weather. Suddenly I noticed something on the porch…a whole stack of these logs  with two packets of seeds and this message! My goodness….Thank you Anne!!!….last night I let the “glow begin.” The real glow is one, though, of friendship!

“Becky, Logs on the hearth-Provide a warm winter glow-Seed packets in hand-Stir images of summertime’s show.”

Thursday was a mixture of sun and clouds so while it was still sunny Brooke and I went to the Edisto Bookstore. Brooke needed to get a birthday card for her brother, Rusty, in the mail.

The atmosphere in the bookstore is so warm and friendly. The nicest clerk, Carroll, was talking to everyone and just hooting over Brooke’s beach home name (Rest in Peace) and the history behind it.

He then introduced me to Emily Grace, the beautiful cat that ‘graces’ this bookstore with her presence.

Brooke told me, that according to the story she heard, a little kitten just showed up on the steps of the store porch ten years ago or so and the bookstore has been her home ever since. Every time someone wants to use the computer Emily Grace jumps up on the counter beside them because she loves to watch the screen change different colors and all the action of the letters.

My photo of Emily Grace looks like an oil painting….she was watching the computer screen…. sitting in front of a mural wall painting with bold greens and yellow hues in it….just gorgeous!

On the way back we agreed that cold or not, we had to at least walk out on the beach for a few minutes. The gray clouds were rolling in hiding the last few streaks of light from the pattern.

We took our diet cokes out on the beach to “rev” up some caffeine energy that was lacking earlier…the cool breezes and drinks got us going again.

By the time we got back to “Rest In Peace” it was five o’clock (somewhere) and I showed Brooke the hilarious gift Lee and Vikki gave me for Christmas. A whole wine bottle fits into the glass. The writing on the glass/bottle says: Finally! A wine glass that fits my needs. We are going to “pay it forward” to someone (we both know) who could really use it now…and even more, a smile!

Despite the slight annoyance, these days, of retrieving names we should already know ..Brooke and I can still finish each other’s sentences….so no matter the memory loss…just keep a close friend nearby who can fill in the blanks for you.

So until tomorrow…Keep your hair light and your memory right…and always keep your friends in sight.

“Today is my favorite day”  Winnie the Pooh

Dear Reader:

Yesterday morning…around 7:00 a strange pink light filled my bedroom and for a moment, in my groggy state of mind, I thought there was a fire somewhere close by. I tumbled out of bed, found “Pinkie”- my beloved well-worn fluffy robe- put it on, along with some flats, and scurried out on the deck.

This strange, eerily beautiful pink haze was lighting up the sky and yard around me. I cut through to the front porch and once again the beauty of this special phenomenon left me in awe. It was an extra special gift from Creation. What a way to start the day.

Growing up in a small community/neighborhood in North Carolina I remember a ‘Mr. Howard’ would open one of his buildings to use as an ice cream parlor from late spring until early fall. The summer months, of course, were the peak season.

About once a week, in the summer, mother would load us all in the car after supper and take us for some ice cream. We always had to get the same order, a double scoop cone, but we could get our own personal choice of flavor.

Every so often, however, Mr. Howard would bestow an “extra” scoop of ice cream to one lucky child. He always smiled and said the same thing, “I think today is an “extra” scoop day for you!” It was like winning the lottery back then….and it just wasn’t the extra scoop that made us feel so good, it was being singled out as deserving of a special day.

We always said the same thing every week on the way to the ice cream parlor…”I wonder if it will be my turn to get an extra scoop this time.” (Actually David was singled out more than Ben or myself…I think Mr. Howard had an “extra” sense about who might need more “extras” in life than others.) Mother, also, got extra ice cream in her cup….Reflecting back…I think Mr. Howard had a crush on mom.)

The other day, when I was straightening up some books that had fallen sideways on one book shelf, this little book by Archibald Rutledge came tumbling out. One of my favorites called “Life’s Extras.”

A publishing synopsis sums up the message inside the tiny book with this comment:

This is a sweet little book of reveries on the blessings that lie in the little unnecessary things of life. Creation supplies us with just two kinds of things: necessities and extras. This book is one of the extras for which the reader will resolve to be a better person.

Henry Ford, was so enamored of this particular writing of Archibald Rutledge, when it first appeared in the late 1920′, that he ordered a copy for each of his 25,000 workers at the time.

After quickly re-reading it earlier this week, I now understand why Ford did this. He realized that working on an assembly line left little time for creativity or imagination, but helping his workers recognize Creation’s little “extras” in life could add more fulfillment to their lives.

Rutledge. admits candidly in the book, that his faith and spiritual connection to His Creator centers around his belief that God continues to surprise His children with extra “scoops of ice cream” when least expected. God just doesn’t stop with creating sunrises and sundowns…He takes the extra time to paint canvases in the sky of unequaled beauty.He places delicate, dazzling wildflowers among rugged rocks to bring a smile to anyone insightful enough to stop and receive His gift.

The following two original paintings by Anne and Joan reflect for me the “extra’s” in nature that gives us all an extra scoop day.

Anne: 

Joan:

So until tomorrow…Let us begin each day with this reflection from Archibald Rutledge:

“I remember that the morning star I used to see blazing above the plantation pines, when I was up early to feed the stock, or to be about some other work, used to thrill me with the beauty of its startling radiance.

It seemed all dewy and throbbing – a thing alive, glorious and immortal. God set it there, I felt, as a reminder of His presence, so that we might begin our day with the thought of Him…”

“Today is my favorite day” Winnie the Pooh

* I don’t know if Jakie  has decided to be an “extra” on the Dukes of Hazzard or what… because instead of crawling through the door to this little car I gave him for Christmas, he has started trying to climb in by diving head first over the other side of the car (with no door)….ending up with dubious results….He keeps getting stuck, head down with his feet in the air. But he isn’t deterred….I  pull him out and back he goes to do it again. It’s what makes Jakie “extra” funny.

Dear Reader:

Monday night I had one of those (interrupted) sleeping episodes that made me wake up (for whatever reason) and then struggle to return to Nod-land.

And so what did I think about? …Eva Cate and her buildings made from story books and the question of why different levels or floors in houses and all types of buildings are called “stories.“( As in… I live on the first story, or second story, etc.)  Of course then my imagination took off and I thought how wonderful it would be to live, not on a story, but in a story.

This thought was quickly followed by which story would I like to live in? Any story, I thought that was made into a movie with Robert Redford starring in it….but then I couldn’t think of one story/movie where he plays the romantic lead that ends happily ever after.

It certainly didn’t happen in “The Way We Were” …..but all of us young girls (drooling over Redford in the packed, dark theaters back then) wanted to name any future sons Hubbell….Somehow I forgot that name by the time I could have used it. (I am sure Walsh and Tommy are eternally grateful for that lapse of memory!)

It certainly wouldn’t have ended well in the blockbuster “Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid” since Redford’s character ended up…well, dead. But at least I could have ridden the bike while “raindrops kept falling on my head.”

The Great Gatsby….”Bobby” was looking fine in that movie…but, nope, actually no one came out of the story well and/or alive.

 I finally found one story I could live in with Bobby and have a happy ending….though, like Glenn Close in the movie…I would have to wait a lifetime to do so….then again, some people are worth waiting a lifetime for….

When I woke up yesterday all groggy and wondering what time it was…I immediately remembered my jumbled thoughts from the night before and looked up the origin for story- as defined by a building floor or level. 

There were lots of different ideas but this one response from Word Detective combined several theories and was the best overall response I felt.

Dear Word Detective: Why are the heights of buildings measured in “stories”? I can’t for the life of me find any connection between “story” and anything to do with measurement, architecture, or city planning anywhere? 

That’s because there is no clear logical connection between “story” meaning “tale” and “story” meaning “level of a building.” But they are indeed related. There are just a few steps involved. So sit back and hang on for the ride. 

The word “story” itself, as well as its usual meaning of “a narrative of fictitious events,” comes from the Greek “historia,” which meant “an account of events.” The same “historia,” as you might suspect, also gave us the English word “history.” Now, the difference between a “story” and a “history” is, or at least is supposed to be, the difference between truth and fiction.

But interestingly enough, the original meaning of “story” in English was “factual narrative,” and only after that “just the facts” sense was gradually taken over by the word “history” in the 17th century did “story” come to primarily mean a made-up or largely fictional creation. One place where the original “factual account” sense of “story” is still used is in phrases such as “newspaper stories,” which, of course, strive to be fact, not fiction.

One of the many uses of the word “story” back in the 14th century was to mean a picture or painting, or a series of paintings, that illustrated a narrative. Such “stories” are still found in the form of stained glass windows depicting Biblical events in many churches.

Most authorities believe that the use of “story” to mean “one level of a building” arose as an architectural term for the practice of placing rows of such “story pictures” or narrative sculptures across the facades of ancient buildings. Such constructions, known at first by the Latin name “historia,” eventually came to be called “stories,” and by the 14th century the term was being used to mean one whole level of the building itself.

Apparently as evidence of this practice, the authors of the Morris Dictionary of Word and Phrase Origins cite the fact that they once visited a Swiss-style hotel decorated along these lines in Lake Placid, New York. (Each floor was tricked out with a large hand-lettered slogan, such as “The only way to multiply happiness is to divide it.”)

……………………

The longer I live the more I am aware that everything in life is a story….even inanimate objects can tell their stories through humans….like “If these walls could talk or those doors could speak…what stories they could tell.” Since they can’t, we humans blessed with imagination, must tell the stories for them.

So until tomorrow….remember:  “God made man because He loves stories.” Elie Wiesel

“Today is my favorite day”  Winnie the Pooh

Jakie was telling stories the other night through singing in the ‘mike’ making up all kinds of strange sounds and words….in his mind he was telling us a story and was very happy doing so.

*Please keep Linda, Libby’s sister, (in the light blue scarf) in your prayers. Yesterday she had surgery on one knee  and soon she will need to do the other. Linda’s family nickname is “Duck” and she is adored by her family. The Ya’s love her too…in fact, we are all “quackers” over her.

• Look who was a month old yesterday! (And Caleb, Brooke’s grandson, wasn’t even due until the middle of January.) Proud dad Riley, finds it hard to be gone from his little son….he adores him.

Dear Reader:

I decided quite awhile back…that my constant daily housekeeping opponent, dust, and I must reach some type of peace agreement. I compromised by telling “Mr. Dust” that I could live with a smattering, as seen on the coffee table, but I would have to draw the line when I could write my name in it. “Pieces” of dust accepted…in exchange for mental peace at home.

Sarah Breathnach (Simple Abundance) shares one daily message with her readers about this very subject. It really does all come down to two things: sanitary and sanity.

We all want our homes to be a reflection of ourselves and keeping (at least) a sanitary house is a must for most of us. But after that we have to decide where to stop the mental anguish over housekeeping tasks. Let’s face the truth…most of us are never going to win the prize for good housekeeping or get our home featured in  Southern Living or some other magazine. (And if we do it is because we brought in a professional cleaning crew before the photographers showed up!)

Sarah suggests that we close our eyes and imagine ourselves walking through the front door to our home. What is necessary in the entrance room to set the tone for our home as seen through the eyes of others? In other words, what standard of housekeeping can we live with (at a minimum) and still feel content and good about our home?

With demands on our time in life and not wanting to become hostage to our home I, personally, want everything reasonably straight but not magazine ready. Tidy rooms take precedence over white-glove dust tests. We need to take time to determine our personal “livability quotient.”

After all is said and done…if we return to these four old-fashioned rules…we can achieve a tidy, straight home minus mental meltdowns that send the spouse, children, and pets running for cover.

If you take it out, put it back

If you open it, close it.

If you throw it down, pick it up

If you take it off, hang it up

So until tomorrow….Brevity goes right to the point…longevity takes lots of detours to arrive at the same place. (besides I need to pick up my jacket I just threw on the bed and then hang it up). I will end with a popular anecdote on brevity and its humorous virtue.

Nicknamed “Silent Cal,” President Calvin Coolidge was once challenged by a reporter, saying, “I bet someone that I could get more than two words out of you.” Coolidge responded, “You lose.”

“Today is my favorite day” Winnie the Pooh

*Several of you have asked me about an update on Nancy’s (Anne’s sister) bout with breast cancer. You might remember she was scheduled for surgery several weeks back and at the last moment another health issue popped up that prevented it from happening.

It has taken some time but the surgery is back on for today….please keep Nancy, Anne, and the rest of the family in your prayers as she crosses another hurdle today in her quest for healing and good health.

Dear Reader:

Poor little Jakie….the new word he hears a lot lately, is “NO!” “No Jakie, don’t grab that…you will pull the doll house over on you or “No Jakie, you can’t stand in the chair.” You name the scenerio…it always starts with a “No.” (I try to find another word, but Jakie is so quick getting into sticky situations….it’s all I have time to utter…but as you can see from the second photo…it sometimes hurts his feelings. It’s a tough stretch in life.)

Jakie is in the metamorphosis stage between a tadpole and frog…He walks around holding onto push toys but becomes a tadpole and starts squirming away when left to walk alone. (I believe there’s a song here...”I’ll Never Walk Alone.“)

Mandy shared with me an observation she has made between the first child and the second. With the first you want them sitting up, crawling, walking, and talking before their peers so you can tell everyone  how amazing your child is. With the second (and particularly the last) child you begin to chill and just let your child alone to develop at his/her own pace. You find yourself not wanting your baby to transition into a toddler so quickly because you know you can’t get that special baby bonding ever back again.

Sunday I went over to Mandy and John’s to babysit the children so they could get out for  for the first time since Christmas and the surgery…much overdue and needed. Before they left they persuaded me to stay and spend the night which I ended up doing.

The children were wonderful, we had a great time. John made us all a big breakfast yesterday morning and soon I said my good-byes. Mandy and I walked out to the car and this is what I saw…

Sometime during the evening my car got ‘bombed’ by (most likely)  adolescents who either thought my “BOO” was a challenge/taunt or they were middle-schoolers who really don’t like social studies. Since John and Mandy’s car wasn’t hit….it appeared that mine was targeted unless the culprits came while they were still out on their “date” and my car was just sitting in the wrong place at the wrong time.

There were white globs all over the car from front to back…from bottom to top. Mandy and I tried to figure it out.. was it restless kids in the neighborhood or a flock of birds with a stomach virus?

John solved the mystery when he returned from getting my car washed (what a wonderful son-in-law I have)….he said there was (what appeared to be) a flour trail leading to the car…they must have had some mixture of flour and water wads as “ammo.”

This incident reminded me (on the way home) of one of Donald Davis’ stories that always cracks me up. Apparently in the small mountain town (where Donald grew up) in the Appalachian Mountains they had a Baptist minister who young Donald and his friends called “Reverend NO NO.”

The “good reverend” was always preaching against sin and every time he gave an example he would ask the congregation to tell him what they were going to say if tempted to commit this sin….”No!” would be the loud response, echoing back from the pews….though some members looked more like the “yes” kind and in actuality were.

One summer Donald and his gang decided to make the best balloon-filled concoctions ever made to drop on unsuspecting cars at the one intersection in town from the top of Donald’s daddy’s hardware store. They put some water and flour in the balloon bombs…but then went one step farther…they added Gerber’s green pea baby formula to the mix.

After filling the balloons…they left them in the sun to dry until they began to quiver and they knew the balloons were ready to drop on their unsuspecting victims.

One afternoon it was Reverend “No No” himself who stopped at the intersection just long enough to get bombarded….the pukish green mixture with the putrid smell hit him squarely in the face…when he momentarily panicked at the concoction on the front windshield, opened the door to get out while turning on the windshield wipers …..smack, smack, smack….went the sound of yuckiness hitting him in the face and chest.

The next Sunday he preached on Revelations and the end of the world coming….He told his congregation why he, himself, had been witness to monstrous beasts of the sky who attacked his car with their huge horrid droppings. The end was near…he screamed at everyone. Thank goodness his screaming was so loud…no one heard a group of little boys giggling in the balcony.

At least my “attackers” weren’t creative enough to add split/pea baby food to the bombings. The flour and water came right off and thanks to John…I returned home with a clean, shiny car.

So until tomorrow…God, I suspect (in sheer exasperation) You feel like telling us many times (as You watch us go against Your Will)….“What part of NO don’t you understand?”

“Today is my favorite day”  Winnie the Pooh

• I decided, after watching Eva Cate create tall “buildings” from her story books that perhaps that’s how the origin of the word “story” (meaning a level in building)… came to pass.

*Another thought crossed my mind on the way home…if there was someone in the front yard…why didn’t Tigger go crazy…For being so tiny he really is a great guard dog…he barks when cars simply stop at the intersection…he especially like buses. He is always at the door barking to get out and greets me before I can even get out of my car….What happened Tigger?…Were you too enamored with your look-alike stuffed buddy?

Tigger is also a photo-hog…he loves getting his picture made and jumped right in the picture of myself and the grandchildren.

Happy Birthday Marcia! Aren’t we the luckiest grandmothers around to have two presents that keep on giving every minute of every day! Have a great birthday! Can hardly wait to see you again soon….and this time hang out in Summerville some!

*Happy Birthday to my nephew Lee (and Robert E. Lee’s birthday for whom he is named.) Lee, I hope you have a very happy one and your birthday just keeps going and going….it will need to because my birthday card is running a little late….but its’ coming!

*We always knew Lee would one day fill out any hat he chose to wear.

*Matthew and Jhasmany surprised us and went to see St. Jude’s Chapel of Hope for themselves and really liked it….Oh, how I miss it….I would love to see it in the snow if a helicopter could just drop me off and pick me up!

Dear Reader:

When I was the social studies coordinator for the district, nothing made my day more than walking into classrooms where creative social studies lessons were taking place. Some times teachers would call to let me know they were doing something special and asked if I could drop in and participate in the lesson. I was always thrilled.

I had forgotten all about this adorable lesson that one elementary teacher used one year for MLK Day (Martin Luther King, Jr. Day) until I ran across it on Pinterest. (Nancy Vandenberg is the creative teacher behind a lot of these unique social studies lessons for kindergarten and early grade school lessons in the blog address below the pictures.)

The idea, of course, is that we come from different colors, like apples, but we are each a star in ourselves.

A powerful story, arising out of Guide Post/Mysterous Ways, showed up on my screen last week and I fell in love with this story relating to Martin Luther King, Jr ….I hope you do too.

Born to Be King

There is a date that actor David Oyelowo will never forget. July 24, 2007. Two months after he and his wife, Jessica, moved from England to Los Angeles to further their careers. He had just read the script for a film called Selma, about the civil-rights march led by Martin Luther King, Jr. A voice spoke to him. You will play Dr. King.

“I remember the date because it was such a shocking revelation,” David told Sojourners magazine. He knew it was the voice of God. The same voice had led him to marry Jessica nine years earlier. But this had to be a mistake. Dr. King with a British accent? David was descended from Nigerian royalty. His family had never experienced the Jim Crow American South.

The director of the film agreed—“You’re no King,” he said at David’s audition. That was that.

Or was it? David landed supporting roles in a few critically acclaimed films, yet felt compelled to spend his free time following King’s footsteps through Mississippi, Alabama, Tennessee, Georgia. A friend of Dr. King urged David to watch the preacher’s sermons. He played the footage over and over. He discovered a common bond with King that was more than skin deep. Both were committed fathers of four children. Both were outspoken in their faith. Both believed God had called them to their careers for a higher purpose.

“One night in Atlanta, I was about to brush my teeth—and I saw Martin Luther King staring back at me in the mirror,” David says. “I freaked out.”

Meanwhile, Selma was stuck in development limbo. So the producers hired Lee Daniels, who’d directed David in The Butler. He saw that David was born for the role.

Critics agreed. David was nominated for a Golden Globe, and Selma struck a chord with audiences too—at a time when Dr. King’s message of love and reconciliation needed to be heard again.

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So until tomorrow…Let us, too, be reminded to use our voices for justice and fairness….for a world in which we all can come together to live in peace and love.

“Today is my favorite day”  Winnie the Pooh

My natural poinsettias who survived the whole year, last year, with no attention, are more beautiful now than ever on the front porch….man-made, time-restricted plants for the holidays, like store-bought poinsettias, just can’t compete in beauty with nature’s originals.

Dear Reader:

Have you ever had one of those days when your musings and ponderings seem to drift from one thought to another? It reminds me of a cow ‘chewing the cud’  or perhaps ruminating (the proper word) on a a certain topic or idea. (Of course we can also “chew the fat” or the rag.”)

Like the clouds…my thoughts yesterday took sudden right and left turns and even drifted through some unexpected detours. So I thought instead of trying to corral them into one pen…perhaps I should just follow them wherever they take me.

*I had one of the nicest, most unexpected conversations yesterday at my CVS store on Main Street. I had gone to the pick-up prescription window for some medications that I was getting low on and one of them had really jumped in price in this new year.

I recognized Jerri, the lead lab tech, at the window and commented that one medication was about as much as my specialized cancer medication that I get from CVS/CareMark in Pennsylvania.

It is mailed directly to me at home. (Believe me I am not complaining….the cost of my cancer medication per month (without insurance) would have me on the streets in less than three months.)

• (Sorry for the bad lighting in the photo below…I took a picture of Jeri’s photo on the staff photo wall beside the pharmacy and the lighting was bad.)

I was just surprised at this other prescription running so high. Jerri looked at me directly, hesitated for a second, and then told me that she had been following my medications since I was first diagnosed with  cancer and she knew from the prescriptions that I was fighting a formidable opponent. She herself had fought it and then I saw her breast cancer pin on.

She had watched me go (in appearance I am sure) from low moments to better moments to where I was today and she just wanted me to know that she had been praying and pulling for me. WOW! God manifests Himself in so many ways….she made my day. I left CVS pondering this conversation in my heart.

A shout-out to Jerri Crosby for being another guardian angel in my journey with ‘little c.”

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Often people attempt to live their lives backwards; they try to have more things or more money, in order to do more of what they want so that they will be happier. The way it actually works is the reverse. You must first be who you really are, then, do what you need to do,in order to have what you want.

–

Margaret Young

I happened to pick up Simple Abundance...A Daybook of Comfort and Joy last week (Sarah Ban Breathnach.) As I skimmed through it…I realized how I had forgotten so many great words of wisdom found within. Cindy Ashley had mentioned recently that she was re-reading it for the same reason.

In the foreword the quote (above) started off the book and I was immediately hooked again. Until we know ourselves and our needs to nurture and recognize the items in life that will fulfill us, our quest for success will fall short. If we have everything life can give us and still find ourselves feeling empty…it is because we never stopped to find our first identity ….before the quest began, simply put…who we were.

I mean, come on, even Popeye knew who he was and he also knew what to do to keep himself moving forward in life . …“I’m strong to the finish…cause I eat my spinach…I’m Popeye the Sailor Man.“

I am no marriage counselor….but I would imagine most marriages, especially young marriages, fail because one partner or the other lives in the shadow of the other…losing their true identity to another until one day either/or decide it’s time to find out who they really are. The mistake…they put the cart before the horse.

Until we really know ourselves and then like ourselves…nothing achieved is going to mean much. We have to have found our passion for life…our creativity that identifies us as unique.

If we deny love and life…we deny God. It really is pretty much that simple.

So until tomorrow…the next time we pick teams for something…let us remember to choose God first in the game of life…then the rest will fall into place with the acknowledgment that each of us can say “I am a child of God.”  “I am beloved.”

“Today is my favorite day”  Winnie the Pooh

*Yesterday provided another delightful surprise…there are now 700 followers signed in to the blog-Chapelofhopestories.com. Since I had to start over just a little more than a year ago. beginning  from scratch…I am thrilled to have 700 of you now in the family.

700 originates with the number “7” which is a holy number representing a process reaching its state of fullness…like the Seven Day Creation Story. When zeroes are added to a number the intensity heightens until the process is finished, complete. Lately I can feel that intensity in my writings for whatever reason ….thank all of you for your loyal support and caring. What a family we have!

I certainly didn’t deny love or life yesterday when Mollie brought the Dingle boys over to laugh, love, and play with Boo. It was such a beautiful day to be outside…..Mollie sent me this photo of Rutledge sound asleep before they had even left the Summerville town limits.

I emailed back that I was so happy that I could still wear them out and be the “last man(woman) standing.” Go grandmothers everywhere!

Here are some photos of how Mollie and I did it! The old cast iron train cars that I had left outside from Christmas, displayed along the railing on the deck, became the “hit” of the day….Rutledge was even ready to leave the park to get back to the train. Could there be a shift in the wind blowing….perhaps trains over trucks? Only time will tell.

Mud puddles and little boys go together…we had to have an emergency clean-up before Mollie and Lachlan returned.

Dear Reader:

Do you, ever like me, think about the time-line period you are living in and give God thanks for letting it be now and not some other time in history?

After Hugo blew through in 1989 I realized that there were no “good old days” before electricity for me. I was so miserable in those first few weeks following the storm….no air-conditioning, mosquitoes, bad-smelling refrigerators, non-functioning stoves/ovens,  no commode flushings…..I would  practically have ‘sold my soul to the devil’ during those days in exchange for the electric power to come back on.

It really made me re-think history and how I taught it. Every Thanksgiving when we would stop and study the exploratory period when the Puritans first arrived….I could only imagine how dreadful the conditions were….starvation, cold, and death awaited them that first year.

Certainly the extremely difficult times encouraged joylessness….but so did the the strict rules of the Puritan religious practices. If you ever study tombstones dating back to the 1600 and 1700’s….you might as well give up finding a positive or encouraging piece of scripture engraved on them.

Like the tombstone in the title photo….telling the world that man’s existence is only like mist that quickly evaporates and disappears… is not a particularly comforting thought to go out on.

The other day I found a piece of paper where I had started writing down some ideas for my memorial service soon after my initial diagnosis of breast cancer (I remember jotting down some thoughts in the middle of the night when I couldn’t sleep after chemo treatments.)

For scripture readings I wrote….“Ask our minister (we just had an interim minister then) to choose a few scripture readings that deal only with the word joy.” One of my song selections was: “Joyful, Joyful We Adore Thee.”

When I step back and reflect on my life… it is the joy of our Creator walking beside me on my path through life that has brought me the greatest joy of all. I have “Little c” (cancer) to thank for bringing me closer to God and for allowing time for our relationship to mature and deepen.

Now I have my children, grandchildren, friends, and garden to help  sustain the joy God brings me on a daily basis. I discovered my passion for writing again and it has become my constant companion.

The blog is not inanimate…it expresses my thoughts, as well as, my being while becoming an extension of the passion for life within me.  It brings me such JOY!

Dorothy Sayers (English writer) once said: “ The only sin passion can commit is to be joyless.”  Amen!

*I remember watching a young couple and their small children on a talk show (maybe it was Oprah) a few years ago… the young mother was dying of cancer…in fact she died only a few days after the program aired. She was amazing, however, in her upbeat attitude about life, her family, and her new journey that was about to begin.

The husband returned to the show a few months later to answer the mystery about something that had come up earlier. In the first program the mother had talked candidly about her preparations for her last resting place. She was upbeat, funny, and remarkably calm about everything happening to her. I sat there watching her in total admiration.

She had found a beautiful spot on a bluff overlooking a river for her final resting place and she had written her own inscription to be put on the headstone but she wouldn’t tell her husband or family members what it was. She kept grinning every time she mentioned it but said she wanted it to be a “surprise.”

Her husband told the audience that when he got the call that the headstone/marker was up and ready for viewing….he didn’t know what to expect…certainly not what he found inscribed… which read:

“Please move…you’re blocking my view.”  In the midst of tears he found himself roaring with laughter…his wife’s last gift to him and the family had been humor, laughter, and joy for the life she had been given.

(We’ve come a long way from the Puritans’ ideas about strict religious laws and serious demeanors….thank goodness.)

So until tomorrow: “Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice”  (Phil. 4:4)

In the movie Sister Act 2 Whoopi Goldberg plays a “singing nun” and choir director who leads her young contemporaries into this rocking, joyous (finale scene) version of  “Joyful, Joyful, We Adore Thee.” (It will certainly set the tone for this day, this joyous day)

Joyful Joyful With Lyrics (Ft. Whoopi Goldberg) – YouTube

“Today is my favorite day”  Winnie the Pooh

• Yesterday I ran by Anne’s house and dropped off this latest novel… written by an author we both enjoy reading. It is called “Joy for Beginners”… but I told Anne she was already quite proficient in this arena….(through her new passions in painting, photography, traveling, and philanthropy-always had that.)

*For Christmas Kaitlyn gave me an air plant that I keep on the counter in my bathroom….the beautiful silver-colored container has marble-like stones of all different colors of blue hues. (And all I do is lift them out every (week to ten days) and water the bottom stems and then replace them.)

Late yesterday afternoon when the winds  picked up….the sun started shining through the clouds for a few minutes turning the new section of the fence a light pink color.  I thought how pretty this plant would look on the fence …I was not disappointed. Inside or out this air plant brings me joy!