Listen to This...

Wise words from a sweet, little cowboy...

http://ktisblog.skylightradio.org/main/2007/12/21/logan-the-nebraska-cowboy/

Merry Christmas

Well, this past weekend was supposed to be my side of the family's Christmas Celebration. It was to be the first Christmas my brother, sister, mom, dad, and I were all together for Christmas in over 20 years. I am sad to report that a snowstorm put a stop to our plans.

Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!

Snow, it did! We are now living in a winter wonderland! It is beautiful!!! My kids have been waiting for a White Christmas!

We went to Mom & Dad's anyways. What a wonderful retreat. Time stopped for a moment. We laughed a lot, played a lot, and enjoyed life without cell phones, deadlines, or commitments. It was a treat that this Mom needed quite a bit!

We will attempt the Christmas Celebration again next weekend. Hopefully the roads will be safe for travel. As sad as I was about the cancellation, I am now a bit rested, and thankful for some playtime with my kids. God knew what I needed!

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!!!

Mr. Knight

I'm not sure if I've shared this story before. If not, I am excited to tell it; if so, it bears repeating.

A couple of years ago, when we hooked up our first home computer, I was listening to some great music. You see, I live in a small town, and the radio station selection is quite limited! I was absolutely thrilled to find Jukebox on my brand new computer! So, as I was searching through Neil Diamond songs (huge fan), I came across Porcupine Pie. Never heard of it? Not surprising... Neil sings about vanilla soup with fruity blue cheese and your hands turning green. I don't believe it was ever on Casey Kasam's Top Forty. Let me tell you though, it was on the top ten list in Mr. Knight's 6th Grade Class at Cedarcrest Elementary! That song, as well as others by Three Dog Night and CCR, were taught to us by our super cool teacher. There are so many songs that transport me back to that class. Mr. Knight was my favorite teacher of all times.

As I was going down Memory Lane in my kitchen, the thought came to me that I really should let Mr. Knight know just how great he was to a 12 year-old girl in his class. I sat down right then and there, and wrote him a letter. I thanked him for being the best teacher I ever had, and filled him in a bit on my life. I signed it with hopes that he would be happy to receive it, and left my new Email address on the bottom, anxiously awaiting for a reply.

A couple of weeks had passed. There were many days I rushed to check my Email in hopes that I would find "Mr. Knight" in the sender box. Oh well, I thought... at least he now knew he meant a lot to me.

Well, let me tell you... one day, there, in the sender box, was his name! I was jumping up and down in my kitchen, thrilled to death! (By the way, have I ever told you my husband thinks I'm a complete nerd? He does love me for my nerdy ways though!) Anyway, listen to this. Mr. Knight wrote that he was driving down the road one day, when out of the blue, started thinking of a student he had many years ago at Cedarcrest Elementary, named Lisa!! (me) He couldn't remember her last name. TWO DAYS LATER, my letter arrived!!! He saw that it was addressed to "Mr. Knight," and didn't even have to look at the return address; he immediately knew it was from me! (It took a little longer than usual to arrive, since he had moved.)

So, now we meet every summer for coffee. I look forward to our coffee chats so much! I am so glad I listened to God's whisper that day in my kitchen, while listening to Porcupine Pie. Has God whispered something in your heart lately? Is there a special person that needs to know what an impact they have made in your life? Tell them! Don't be afraid; everyone wants to feel needed and important!

Mary Did You Know?

Mary Did You Know?

by Mark Lowry

Mary did you know that your baby boy will one day walk on water?

Mary did you know that your baby boy will save our sons and daughters?

Did you know that your baby boy has come to make you new?

This child that you delivered will soon deliver you.

Mary, did you know that your baby boy will give sight to a blind man?

Mary did you know that your baby boy will calm a storm with His hand?

Did you know that your baby boy has walked where angels trod?

When you kiss your little baby, you've kissed the face of God.

Mary, did you know?

The blind will see

The deaf will hear

The dead will live again

The lame will leap

The dumb will speak

The praises of the Lamb

Mary did you know that your baby boy is Lord of all creation?

Mary did you know that your baby boy will one day rules the nations?

Did you know that your baby boy is heaven's perfect lamb?

This sleeping child you're holding is The Great I Am.

Family

A couple of months ago, I had the privilege of surprising my best friend Lisa, on her 40th birthday. She had no idea I was coming; I got to come up from behind at the restaurant, and cover her eyes. What fun! It was a moment I will never forget.

I ended up at her house for coffee, and was invited to stay for dinner. I had talked to her husband Steve, earlier in the week, and knew that they were planning a special dinner that night, since she was leaving for Florida a couple of days later. I really did not want to impose on their family celebration, so I cornered Steve when he got home from work. I let him know how strongly I felt about not wanting to impose. His immediate reply was, "No, your staying. You're family."

It brings tears to my eyes as I am typing this. "You're family." What a tremendous gift those words were. I've known Lisa for about 25 years; I can't imagine life without her. It's a long story, but Lisa and Steve met because of Steve's best friend, Curt, and me. We have history. History is a good thing, but the bond of friendship that crosses over to "family" is a gift from God. I thank God for Lisa and Steve, and pray that they will be blessed abundantly.

Do you have a friend that is as close to you as a sister or brother? Let them know... it will bless them beyond measure.

Merry Christmas.

Cookies

Here's a cookie recipe that is sure to make you laugh. I received it via Email, but do not know who the author is. Enjoy, but do not attempt to make!

Jose Cuervo Christmas Cookies

1 cup water

1 tsp. baking soda

1 cup sugar

1 tsp. salt

1 cup brown sugar

Juice of one lemon

1 cup nuts

2 cups dried fruit

1 bottle Jose Cuervo Tequila

Sample the Cuervo to check quality. Take a large bowl, check the Cuervo again to be sure it is of the highest quality; pour one level cup and drink.

Turn on the electric mixer... Beat one cup of butter in a large fluffy bowl.

Add one teaspoon of sugar. Beat again. At this point it's best to make sure the Cuervo is still okay, try another cup... just in case.

Turn off the mixerer thingy. Break 2 leggs and add to the bowl. Chuck in the cup of dried fruit. Pick the frigging fruit off the floor.

Mix on the turner. If the fried druit gets stuck to the beaterers just pry it loose with a drewscriver. Sample the Cuervo to check for tonsisticity.

Next, sift two cups of salt, or something. Who gives a sheet. Check the Jose Cuervo. Now, shift the lemon juice and strain your nuts. Add one table. Add a spoon of sugar, or somefink. Whatever you can find. Greash the oven.

Turn the cake tin 360 degrees and try not to fall over. Don't forget to beat off the turner. Finally, throw the bowl through the window, finish the Cose Juervo, and make sure to put the stove in the dishwasher.

Cherry Mistmas!

Words of the Wise...

Sorrow can be alleviated by good sleep, a bath and a glass of wine.

~Saint Thomas Aquinas

Little Discoveries

My little boy, who is four, has been quite vocal lately about his anatomy, and just what it is up to... much to the horror of my teenagers. As embarrassing as it is however, they must admit it is usually quite funny.

After his latest observation, I decided that I needed to address an issue. "Son, when you are at preschool, you cannot talk about your penis."

In a sing-songy voice full of attitude, he replied, "I know Mom! I don't! No one even knows I have one because I hide it in my pants!"

All righty then... who can argue with that? As far as I am concerned, he can keep it hidden... until he is 30!

ABC's

Last night at the dinner table, my 3 year-old was asked if she could say the ABC's backwards, such as ZYX, and so on. Without any hesitation, she said, "Yes!," and quickly got off of her chair. She started walking backwards, "ABCDEFG...." We all burst out laughing. I asked my kids if they had taught her that. No, they hadn't... you just have to be quick witted when you're the youngest of four!

I'll Be Home For Christmas

Here is a touching true story from the book, I'll Be Home For Christmas The Library of Congress Revisits the Spirit of Christmas During World War II. This story was written by Marine Edward Andrusko, who was wounded three times in battle.

Christmastime 1944...

Miracle on a Train

I arrived at the San Diego railroad station early one 1944 morning and joined throngs of anxious holiday travelers who were burdened with baggage and Christmas gifts. We climbed aboard the overbooked holiday train. Lines of military and civilian passengers pushed and shoved each other, scrambling for the last remaining seats.

It would take an eternity---four days and four nights---to reach New York City. Still weak from malaria and hurting from my recent battle wounds, I was not looking forward to this long, boring trip.

I struggled down the aisle, carrying my Marine Corps seabag. Panic set in as I neared the end of the car. It was the last one, and all the seats looked occupied. My anxiety was interrupted by a loud voice: "Over here, Marine, and hurry up; I have a seat for you."

I hurried over, sat next to a sailor and thanked him for the seat.
"Hi, mate," he said. "They call me 'Ski,' because of my long Ukrainian name."

We both grinned and clumsily shook left hands. My wounded right hand was in a sling; and his right arm was amputated, with his empty jumper sleeve pinned up at the shoulder.

When I saw the many Navy men and women struggling through the narrow aisle, I asked Ski why he, a Navy man, gave me, a Marine, this seat. "Well, I saw your shoulder patch, your combat ribbons, and battle stars, and I knew that you and I fought in the same campaigns. You were on the land, and I was on the sea. I served aboard the USS Chicago, a cruiser named after my hometown. I lost my arm when we were torpedoed off the island you were fighting on."

The locomotive's loud steam whistle blew, then with the clang of its large bell we started to move, heading east across southern California.

Ski and I were both proud of the Navy and Marine Corps, but were bitter toward the military hospital we had just left. It had an inefficient administrative system and the medical staff was overworked and burned out. Four years of war and the continuous flow of casualties had created a callous attitude.

We were disenchanted with the negative treatment we had received from the military and the apathetic civilian world since our return to the United States. It was this type of poor management that put rehabilitating servicemen on this crowded train rather than on an airplane.

This would be my fourth Christmas away from home, and the season always made me sad because of the many friends who had died in battle during this holiday.

Our train was traveling at maximum speed, but across the great American desert it seemed like we were not moving fast enough. We had too much time on our hands.

We could sleep sitting up in our seats, stand in line for meals and washroom, or reminisce bittersweet battle memories with our train mates. Ski and I agreed that we both became near atheists and cynics after three years of war. Soon we tried to sleep the time away.

En route to Denver, our train would wind ever so slowly through many tunnels, around picturesque snow-covered mountains and valleys. I consoled myself that time was no longer important. What was my hurry-- I would miss Christmas at home by a day. My parents had split up, and I had no hone to go to. My girlfriend of four years sent me a "Dear John" letter, saying she had waited too long for me to return and found someone else, And worst of all, when I was well enough for duty, I could be sent overseas to battle again.

We left Denver early in the morning in a snowstorm. Our train's whistle blew often as we charged across the prairie states through a howling blizzard. It was nightfall somewhere in Illinois. Our train slowed to a crawl because of poor visibility. It was freezing outside and getting colder inside our passenger coach on this Christmas Eve.

The train conductor entered our car and called out, "It's ten o'clock, two hours to Chicago, next stop Chicago!" He dimmed the lights and left.

Ski turned to me and said, "Eddy Lee, I'm worried about my family meeting me at the Chicago station and seeing me like this. I asked my girl not to come. What should I do or say to them?"

"Act natural, they know about your arm, try to be yourself," I said. "You all love each other, and I'll bet they will thank God that you made it home alive. It will all work out fine; you'll see. Now let's try to get some sleep."

Our train suddenly made an unscheduled, metal-screeching stop. A few waking passengers muttered, "What's going on?" Most went back to sleep.

I looked out the window and could see only a small, dimly lighted railroad station surrounded by large snowdrifts. The door at the other end of the car opened, and in the darkened car, I could just barely see a small boy and a mature woman coming into our coach.

They walked slowly up the aisle, looking at the passengers, apparently looking for a seat. The two strangers cautiously headed toward my end of the car.

I closed my eyes and tried to get back to sleep, wondering why the train was not moving. It just sat there at this lonely, dark railroad station. I fell asleep for a few minutes, until I heard a noise in front of me. I slowly opened my eyes and saw the young boy, about eight or nine years old standing in front of me, staring.

The boy smiled and said, "Welcome home and a Merry Christmas, Marine. My grandmother and I would like to give you a gift and thank you for serving our country."

The boy handed me a dollar bill and then shook my hand. The grandmother put her arm around me and said, "God bless you." Then they both smiled and said, "Merry Christmas and good-bye."

I was surprised and moved. I said, "Thank you, thank you very much." I searched in my seabag for some sort of Christmas gift for the boy. When I looked up, they were gone.

Our train whistle blew; we lunged forward and were rolling again. I quickly looked out my frosty window and saw the boy and his grandmother leaving the dismal railroad station. I waved goodbye as they slipped into the darkness. They did not see me.

I sat back in my seat bewildered, wondering what had just happened. Had it been real? I queried Ski and the two soldiers sitting across from me if they too had seen the little boy and his grandmother. The said, "No, we were sleeping." Ski added, "You must have been dreaming."

My mind raced with questions. Who were they? Why did they pass by all those other servicemen, including other marines, and then stop in front of me? Maybe I was sleeping, and with all the medication I was taking for pain and malaria, it just could have been a strange, nice dream.

It was two more hours to Chicago, and I decided to try to get some sleep. But before closing my eyes, I looked down at my tightly closed fist. I slowly opened my hand and there was a crumpled-up dollar bill.

I contentedly fell asleep with my precious gift tucked safely in my pocket and a pleasant feeling in my heart, the nicest feeling I had in a very long time.

The conductor came into the car and announced our arrival in Chicago. Passengers took their baggage from the overhead compartments. I helped Ski with his seabag. He was getting off. He was home.

Ski and I said our emotional good-byes as the train came to a stop. The crowd of passengers left through both exit doors. I sat back, waiting to continue my odyssey of another thousand miles to New York City.

It was midnight. As I looked out the train window, I was surprised to see hundreds of people, young and old choirs of many ethnic and racial backgrounds on the station platform, all holding candles and sheet music and singing Christmas carols. The people and the station were all decked out with the holiday spirit and decorations. It was a bitterly cold, snowy Christmas night in Chicago, but the holiday spirit was cheerful and warmed all our hearts.

As I enjoyed the joyful singing, our train car doors opened and the singing choirs of young people paraded in. Each singer carried a tray of food and drinks. Each tray held a complete Christmas dinner with a small gift on it. There were enough trays for everyone on the train. We were no longer strangers. We all sang, ate and celebrated together. It was the most beautiful, festive Christmas I had ever had. Our generous Chicago hosts cheerfully wished us a "very Merry Christmas and a welcome home!"

This train odyssey and these unbelievably beautiful events changed my bitter feelings. I really felt I did make it home for Christmas.

Many years later, I told this story to my family at Christmas time. I pondered out loud, "Who was that little boy on the train, and why did he and his grandmother choose me? Why me?"

Our visiting young niece was playing on the floor with her Christmas toy. She had quietly listened to my sentimental wartime story and replied, "I know."

We all looked at her and I said, "You know what?"

"I know who the little boy on the train was, and why he picked you. The little boy was God, and he chose you because you were very, very sad and disappointed with everyone and everything. He wanted to make you happy again and welcome you home--- and he did."

And then I knew a Christmas miracle had happened to me when I needed it most, during the war, on that train and in Chicago.

Time

I can hardly believe that Christmas is just around the corner. It seems the older I get, the more kids I have, the faster the time flies. Remember when you were a kid and you thought that Christmas would never arrive? Time seemed to be slower than molasses in January!

I came across a "prayer" in Joyce Meyer's book, I Dare You. I thought it may ring true to some; I know I can relate! Maybe it will help you remember to slow down long enough to breathe, and take in the moment. Some day, you'll look back on these days as "The Good Ol' Days"... make sure you're living them while you can!

The clock is my dictator, I shall not rest.

It makes me lie down only when exhausted.

It leads me into deep depression.

It hounds my soul.

It leads me in circles of frenzy, for activities' sake.

Even though I run frantically from task to task, I will never get it all done,

For my ideal is with me.

Deadlines and my need for approval, they drive me.

They demand performance from me, beyond the limits of my schedule.

They anoint my head with migraines,

My in-basket overflows.

Surely fatigue and time pressures shall follow me

All the days of my life.

And I will dwell in the bonds of frustration

Forever.

(Author unknown... Joyce Meyer took it from InspirationalStories.com)

Giving Thanks

Today in church, Pastor Mark passed a microphone around the congregation. Those who wanted to, could share something they were thankful for. What a blessing. We heard everything from being thankful for life from a woman fighting cancer, gratefulness to the pastors and congregation from a senior citizen who has been battling an illness, and felt so loved because of the care and concern she has received, pure joy from a brand new father, and heartfelt love and thankfulness from a father of 11 kids. Another was from a man who just came home from South America. He was thankful for the bounty of food we have. Most of the people he saw, only had one meal a day which consisted of porridge and a small piece of bread. Is your tummy full? Give thanks.

The thanks shared was definitely for the big things in life, down to the simple things we take for granted such as toilet paper. (May we always be thankful for toilet paper! One trip to a remote village in a foreign country, or an unexpected emergency in the woods, and you'll be thanking God for toilet paper! Okay moms.... you know what I'm talking about... How about when your lovely children use the last of the toilet paper, do not tell you about it, and you are stranded on the toilet while everyone else is in school?! I know you've all raced past windows for the Kleenex box!) Anyway, it is always nice to stop long enough to truly think about the things we are thankful for. In church, I gave thanks for our veterans and soldiers, through tears and a shaky voice. The emotion caught me off guard, and I was embarrassed at first. However, as I thought about it later, yes, I should be emotional when talking about the brave men and women who have and are sacrificing their lives for their country, for freedom, and for the basic human rights everyone deserves. May God bless them all and their families. Words just cannot ever describe the gratitude I have for them.

Take a moment, and write down things you are thankful for. Even the simplest of things can bring a smile to your face. Better yet, get up, get out, and do something for someone that will have them thanking God. Be a blessing to others; your kindness will not return void!

No Excuses!

Ninety-nine percent of the failures come from people who have the habit of making excuses. ~ George Washington Carver

I dare you to stop making excuses... take responsibility for making your dreams come true!

Veterans' Day

These men and women and their families made great sacrifices - they deserve our utmost respect and deepest gratitude.

~Doc Hastings

Sweet Apologies

This morning, as I was snuggling with my two little ones, my little girl apologized sincerely for breaking a piece on my Nordic Track. It had happened about a year ago, but she remembered it when she looked at my new one, and wanted me to know she was truly sorry. I forgave her, of course. It was a sweet moment.

My almost 5 year-old son was taking in the moment, and decided he would cash in on some of the attention. "I forgive you, Mom," he says with quite a bit of drama. "What?" "I forgive you." "For what?" "You know, for the other day when you made me clean my room. I forgive you."

Oh, brother!

101%

(Thanks to my cousin, Cathy for sending this to me.)

From a strictly mathematical viewpoint:

What Equals 100%? What does it mean to give MORE than 100%?

Ever wonder about those people who say they are giving more than 100%?

We have all been in situations where someone wants you to GIVE OVER 100%.

How about ACHIEVING 101%?

What equals 100% in life?

Here's a little mathematical formula that might help answer these questions:

If: A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z

Is represented as: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26.

If: H-A-R-D-W-O-R- K = 8+1+18+4+23+15+18+11 = 98%

And: K-N-O-W-L-E-D-G-E = 11+14+15+23+12+5+4+7+5 = 96%

But: A-T-T-I-T-U-D-E = 1+20+20+9+20+21+4+5 = 100%

THEN, look how far the love of God will take you:

L-O-V-E-O-F-G-O-D = 12+15+22+5+15+6+7+15+4 = 101%

Therefore, one can conclude with mathematical certainty that:

While Hard Work and Knowledge will get you close, and Attitude will get you there,

It's the Love of God that will put you over the top!

Pretty Good

The following came from Charles Osgood of CBS News...

There once was a pretty good student,

Who sat in a pretty good class;

Who was taught by a pretty good teacher,

Who always let pretty good pass---

He wasn't terrific at reading,

He wasn't a whizbang at math;

But for him education was leading

Straight down a pretty good path.

He didn't find school exciting,

But he wanted to do pretty well;

And he did have some trouble with writing,

And no one had taught him to spell.

When doing arithmetic problems,

Pretty good was regarded as fine---

5 plus 5 needn't always add up to 10

A pretty good answer was 9

The pretty good class that he sat in

Was part of a pretty good school;

And the student was not the exception,

On the contrary, he was the rule.

The pretty good student, in fact, was

Part of a pretty good mob;

And the first time he knew that he lacked was

When he looked for a pretty good job.

It was then, when he sought a position,

He discovered that life would be tough---

And he soon had a sneaking suspicion,

Pretty good might not be enough.

The pretty good town in our story

Was part of a pretty good state,

Which had pretty good aspirations,

And prayed for a pretty good fate.

There once was a pretty good nation,

Pretty proud of the greatness it had,

Which learned much too late, if you want to be great,

Pretty good is, in fact, pretty bad.

Words of Wisdom

If I Had My Life to Live Over

by Erma Bombeck....

(written after she found out she was dying of cancer)

I would have gone to bed when I was sick instead of pretending the earth would go into a holding pattern if I weren't there for the day.
I would have burned the pink candle sculpted like a rose before it melted in storage.
I would have talked less and listened more.
I would have invited friends over to dinner even if the carpet was stained, or the sofa faded.
I would have eaten the popcorn in the 'good' living room and worried much less about the dirt when someone wanted to light a fire in the fireplace.
I would have taken the time to listen to my grandfather ramble about his youth.
I would have shared more of the responsibility carried by my husband.
I would never have insisted the car windows be rolled up on a summer day because my hair had just been teased and sprayed.
I would have sat on the lawn! With my grass stains.
I would have cried and laughed less while watching television and more while watching life.
I would never have bought anything just because it was practical, wouldn't show soil, or was guaranteed to last a lifetime.
Instead of wishing away nine months of pregnancy, I'd have cherished every moment and realized that the wonderment growing inside me was the only chance in life to assist God in a miracle.
When my kids kissed me impetuously, I would never have said, "Later. Now go get washed up for dinner." There would have been more "I love you's"; more "I'm sorry's."

Thanks to my friend Debbie in Idaho, who sent this to me!

Ahhh.... Sunshine!

Here comes the sun, here comes the sun

And I say it's all right

Little darlin' the smiles returning to their faces

Little darlin' it seems like years since it's been here

Here comes the sun, here comes the sun

And I say it's all right

Sun, sun, sun, here it comes

(Lyrics by George Harrison)

Welcome back, Sunshine. It's been a long, long time!

As the World Turns

I have two teenagers, and two toddlers. I know what you're thinking.... "What were you thinking?!!!!!" Well, that is altogether another story, but let me sum it up as, "When God wants you to have a child, there's no stopping Him!".

So, my experience has given me the wisdom to know the difference between teenagers and toddlers. Size. That's it. The difference between teenagers and toddlers is the size of their bodies; otherwise, it's "Me, Me, It's All About ME!"

I was not prepared for the concept of the world revolving around them to reappear at age 11 or so. I was quite taken aback, in fact. "But no," I reminded my firstborn, "the world does not revolve around you. Don't you remember? I taught you that when you were two!" She didn't remember. Either did my son, and I'm sure memory loss will trickle down to my third and fourth children as well.

I read a little ditty awhile back that is priceless. I must post it in my home. "No, the world does not revolve around you... you're just dizzy."

I have four very dizzy children... that are loved very, very much.

Dropping Faults

Do not think of your faults, still less of other's faults; look for
what is
good and strong, and try to imitate
it. Your faults will drop off, like dead leaves, when their time
comes.

.

~John Ruskin, English Writer, 1819-1900

Schoolmarm

Here are some interesting facts about female teachers in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. I wonder how many would choose the profession if the rules remained the same...

• teachers were often forbidden to marry



• they were not allowed to be in the company of any man but their father or brother



• were not to wear fewer than two petticoats



• forbidden to smoke cigarettes or dye their hair



• they were not allowed to loiter in ice cream parlors

We've come a long way, baby!

(Information taken from We Americans, published by the National Geographic Society)

Celebrate!

Happy 40th Birthday to my dear friend, Lisa K.!

A Little Bit of History

I read something the other day that astounded me. I don't ever remember learning this in school; that doesn't mean that I wasn't taught it, I just don't recall this information. Unfortunately, there is probably quite a bit I don't recall!

Well, let me give you a bit of history; it has to do with the Emancipation Proclamation, which was issued in January of 1863. Did you know that the Emancipation Proclamation only freed slaves that were in states rebelling against the Union? Slaves that were in the Union, and slaves that were in southern states that were already under the Union's control were not freed.

Sad, isn't it?

The following is a letter to President Lincoln, written by Annie Davis. It is taken from A Patriot's Handbook, by Caroline Kennedy.

Belair [Md.]

Mr president It is my Desire to be free. to go to see my people on the eastern shore. my mistress wont let me you will please let me know if we are free. and what i can do. I write to you for advice. please send me word this week. or as soon as possible and oblidge.

Go forth, and enjoy your freedom.

Beautiful

It isn't a matter of

black is beautiful

as much as it is

white is not all

that's beautiful.

~Bill Cosby

Wise Investment

Invest in the human soul. Who knows, it might be a diamond in the rough.

~Mary McLeod Bethune

American Educator

1875-1955

Hat of Many Colors

Hmm... maybe I need one of these while I make salsa next time!

(See the next blog... it'll make sense.)

Now You're Cookin'!

Lately, I have been a bit bored with the whole idea of cooking. I tend to go through stages. At one point I can be creative, and think cooking is a lot of fun, and not long after, it becomes a chore that I dread. Now, you may think it is because I have four kids, and the chances of making something everybody likes is about as likely as my husband planning a Phantom of the Opera night out, with costumes and all at the Paris Opera House. (Oops... there I go again on the Phantom of the Opera thing. Did I happen to mention how much I love that movie and soundtrack?)

Anyway, I would like to share an idea I have had lately. It has helped put a bit of pizazz into the daily chore of feeding my family. (Guilt, guilt, guilt... I'm sure Mrs. Cleaver never saw it as a chore!) Well, whenever I can, I tie music into whatever it is that I am cooking. For example, today I made salsa. Now salsa takes a bit of time to make; it could be considered to be a real drag. Not for me! I get everything out, washed, and in its' place, chill the Mexican Beer, and put on some Salsa music, or a Mariachi band. I truly have a great time as I chop away, dancing to the music. Dean Martin works well for Italian nights, along with a glass of red wine. I think I'll look for a red and white checkered tablecloth! I have been know to sit down at the table, and insist that everyone talks with an accent... to match the ethnic food, of course. Personally, I think that is hilarious! I usually have tears from laughing so hard. My teenagers, on the other hand, think I have lost more than a few marbles! I can guarantee you, that some day, while they are eating Kung Pao Chicken with their kids, they will not be able to resist the urge to start talking with an Asian accent!

So ladies, I feel a dare coming on! What's for supper tomorrow? Whatever it is, find some music, a good drink, and work on that accent!

Bon Apetit!

Phantom of the Opera

Okay girls....

I tend to be way behind the times on some things, and this is one of them. I just saw Phantom of the Opera for the first time. I am hooked. What a beautiful story in so many ways... beautiful love story, incredible music, and breathtaking costumes and set designs.

Well done, Warner Bros.; in my opinion, it is one of the most well made movies I have ever seen. If you like musicals, this is a must see.

Mountains Out of Molehills

I have a wonderful pastor. He is by far, the most encouraging, positive person I know. It was his birthday the other day, and I read about his day on his blog. (Check it out... it is posted above under "Blogs I Like to Visit"... Revitalize Your Church.) I smiled throughout the post as I read his excitement and total appreciation over everything from phone calls to beetles. Now, I know I am always appreciative over phone calls on my birthday, especially when it is my father-in-law singing "Happy Birthday" to me; brings tears to my eyes just thinking about it. But I don't think I have ever looked at a swarm of beetles as a chorus of birthday greetings before.

So, I have decided to make mountains out of molehills. "What?!," you say? Yes, I will make mountains out of molehills for the good stuff in life. It is so easy to get caught up in the pressures of life, motherhood, jobs, discipline, and the ugliness in the news that we forget to notice really beautiful moments. May I find awe in the simple things in life. May I splash in the rain puddles with my little ones, reclaim the excitement to be found in the perfect ice cream cone, laugh with my teenagers until my stomach hurts, chase butterflies, and realize just how cool those skateboard moves are. I want my breath to be taken away each time my husband walks through the door. I want to give more hugs, and let my friends and family know they are cherished. I want to look at the next sunset as the wonderful thing it is... God's Masterpiece painting just for me and you.

Want to climb the mountain with me?

The Greatest Generation

It is, I believe,

the greatest generation

any society

has ever produced.

~ Tom Brokaw

Let Me See Those Pearly Whites!

As long as you live

keep smiling

because it brightens

everybody's day.

~Vin Scully

Quit Yer Bellyachin'!

Helpful Suggestions
from Joyce Meyer


(Taken from her book, I Dare You.)

• We can complain about what we cannot do, or we can do what we can do.


• We can complain about the conditions in society and wish someone would do something about them, or we can pray.


• We can complain about what we don't have, or we can be thankful for what we do have.


• We can find fault with our friends and family, or we can thank God we are not completely alone in life.


• We can complain about the job we have, or we can thank God we have one.


• We can complain about traffic, or we can thank God we have an automobile when most of the world still walks everywhere they go.


• We can complain about the weather, or we can thank God we are healthy enough to go outside.

Get A Grip!

I bought some tea the other day.
It sits in my windowsill above my kitchen sink. A reminder to this frazzled mom... get a grip, it tells me. I've needed that reminder lately as I make my way through the fog of temper tantrums, a new driver in the house, and a son who has been really good at being 13 lately.

Get a grip.
Get a grip.
Get a grip.

It claims that I will find hormonal balance. Balance is a good thing. Every woman could use some hormonal balance, just ask the people living with her! So, I will sit, sip, and get some balance in my life. And for this day, I will heed its' advice. I will take a deep breath, and get a good grip.

The Death of Common Sense

~Author Unknown


My parents told me about Mr. Common Sense early in my life and told me I would do well to call on him when making decisions. It seems he was always around in my early years but less and less as time passed by. Today I read his obituary. Please join me for a moment of silence in remembrance. For Common Sense had served us all so well for so many generations.









Obituary
Common Sense

Today we mourn the passing of a beloved old friend, Common Sense, who has been with us for many years. No one knows for sure how old he was since his birth records were long ago lost in bureaucratic red tape. He will be remembered as having cultivated such valuable lessons as knowing when to come in out of the rain, why the early bird gets the worm, life isn't always fair, and maybe it was my fault. Common Sense lived by simple, sound financial policies (don't spend more than you earn) and reliable parenting strategies (adults, not children are in charge). His health began to deteriorate rapidly when well intentioned but overbearing regulations were set in place. Reports of a six-year-old boy charged with sexual harassment for kissing a classmate; teens suspended from school for using mouthwash after lunch; and a teacher fired for reprimanding an unruly student, only worsened his condition. Common Sense lost ground when pa rents attacked teachers for doing the job they themselves failed to do in disciplining their unruly children. It declined even further when schools were required to get parental consent to administer Aspirin, sun lotion or a sticky plaster to a student; but could not inform the parents when a student became pregnant and wanted to have an abortion. Common Sense lost the will to live as the Ten Commandments became contraband; churches became businesses; and criminals received better treatment than their victims. Common Sense took a beating when you couldn't legally defend yourself from a burglar in your own home and the burglar can sue you for assault. Common Sense finally gave up the will to live, after a woman failed to realize that a steaming cup of coffee was hot. She spilled a little in her lap, and was promptly awarded a huge settlement. Common Sense was preceded in death by his parents, Truth and Trust; his wife, Discretion; his daughter, Responsibility; and his son, Reason. He is survived by three stepbrothers; I Know my Rights, Someone Else is to Blame, and I'm a Victim. Not many attended his funeral because so few realized he was gone.

The Invisible Woman

I received this story the other day, from my friend Debbie. It is written by Nicole Johnson, and touched me so much that I knew I had to share it. I hope it is an inspiration to you.

The Invisible Woman

By Nicole Johnson

It started to happen gradually. One day I was walking my son Jake to school. I was holding his hand and we were about to cross the street when the crossing guard said to him, "Who is that with you, young fella?" "Nobody," he shrugged. "Nobody?" The crossing guard and I laughed. My son is only 5, but as we crossed the street, I thought, "Oh my goodness, nobody?" I would walk into a room and no one would notice. I would say something to my family - like "Turn the TV down, please" - and nothing would happen. Nobody would get up, or even make a move for the remote. I would stand there for a minute, and then I would say again, a little louder, "Would someone turn the TV down?" Nothing. Just the other night my husband and I were out at a party. We'd been there for about three hours and I was ready to leave. I noticed he was talking to a friend from work. So I walked over, and when there was a break in the conversation, I whispered, "I'm ready to go when you are." He just kept right on talking. That's when I started to put all the pieces together. I don't think he can see me. I don't think anyone can see me. I'm invisible. It all began to make sense, the blank stares, the lack of response, the way one of the kids will walk into the room while I'm on the phone and ask to be taken to the store. Inside I'm thinking, "Can't you see I'm on the phone?" Obviously not! No one can see if I'm on the phone, or cooking, or sweeping the floor, or even standing on my head in the corner, because no one can see me at all. I'm invisible. Some days I am only a pair of hands, nothing more: Can you fix this? Can you tie this? Can you open this? Some days I'm not a pair of hands; I'm not even a human being. I'm a clock to ask, "What time is it?" I'm a satellite guide to answer, "What number is the Disney Channel?" I'm a car to order, "Right around 5:30, please." I was certain that these were the hands that once held books and the eyes that studied history and the mind that graduated summa cum laude -but now they had disappeared into the peanut butter, never to be seen again. She's going, she's going, she's gone! One night, a group of us were having dinner, celebrating the return of a friend from England. Janice had just gotten back from a fabulous trip, and she was going on and on about the hotel she stayed in. I was sitting there, looking around at the others all put together so well. It was hard not to compare and feel sorry for myself as I looked down at my out-of-style dress; it was the only thing I could find that was clean. My unwashed hair was pulled up in a banana clip and I was afraid I could actually smell peanut butter in it. I was feeling pretty pathetic, when Janice turned to me with a beautifully wrapped package, and said, "I brought this for you." It was a book on the great cathedrals of Europe. I wasn't exactly sure why she'd given it to me until I read her inscription: "To Charlotte, with admiration for the greatness of what you are building when no one sees." In the days ahead I would read - no, devour - the book. And I would discover what would become for me, four life-changing truths, after which I could pattern my work: *No one can say who built the great cathedrals - we have no record of their names. *These builders gave their whole lives for a work they would never see finished. *They made great sacrifices and expected no credit. * The passion of their building was fueled by their faith that the eyes of God saw everything. A legendary story in the book told of a rich man who came to visit the cathedral while it was being built, and he saw a workman carving a tiny bird on the inside of a beam. He was puzzled and asked the man, "Why are you spending so much time carving that bird into a beam that will be covered by the roof? No one will ever see it." And the workman replied,"Because God sees." I closed the book, feeling the missing piece fall into place. It was almost as if I heard God whispering to me, "I see you, Charlotte. I see the sacrifices you make every day, even when no one around you does. No act of kindness you've done, no sequin you've sewn on, no cupcake you've baked, is too small for me to notice and smile over. You are building a great cathedral, but you can't see right now what it will become." At times, my invisibility feels like an affliction. But it is not a disease that is erasing my life. It is the cure for the disease of my own self-centeredness. It is the antidote to my strong, stubborn pride. I keep the right perspective when I see myself as a great builder. As one of the people who show up at a job that they will never see finished, to work on something that their name will never be on. The writer of the book went so far as to say that no cathedrals could ever be built in our lifetime because there are so few people willing to sacrifice to that degree. When I really think about it, I don't want my son to tell the friend he's bringing home from college for Thanksgiving, "My mom gets up at 4 in the morning and bakes homemade pies, and then she hand bastes a turkey for three hours and presses all the linens for the table." That would mean I'd built a shrine or a monument to myself. I just want him to want to come home. And then, if there is anything more to say to his friend, to add, "You're gonna love it there." As mothers, we are building great cathedrals. We cannot be seen if we're doing it right. And one day, it is very possible that the world will marvel, not only at what we have built,but at the beauty that has been added to the world by the sacrifices of invisible women.

Thunderstorm

One summer evening during a violent thunderstorm, a mother was tucking her small boy into bed. She was about to turn off the light when he asked with a tremor in his voice, "Mommy, will you sleep with me tonight?"

The mother smiled and gave him a reassuring hug. "I can't dear," she said. "I have to sleep in Daddy's room."

A long silence was broken at last by his shaking little voice: "The big sissy."

(Taken from the book, Espresso for your Spirit... Hope and Humor for Pooped Out Parents by Pam Vredevelt)

Last Shred of Sanity

So... sometimes I'm not cool as a cucumber. Sometimes I wonder how I will actually end the day at the same level of sanity as when I started it. Well, yesterday I found myself sitting in my Suburban. It was parked in my garage. The windows were up... it was a bit warm. What was I doing? Hiding from my children. (Did I mention how needy and greedy they are?) I continued to hide for five minutes while I ate licorice. Five minutes not so long, you say? Oh my friend, you highly underestimate the speed and rate of consumption during ANGER EATING. It is quite staggering. Nobody found me! I polished off the licorice before anyone was even calling me! (Okay... truth be told... the windows were up despite of the heat. They may have been calling, but I never heard them.) As I was sitting there, I did happen to notice how nicely my husband has organized the garage. But of course it is organized... he gets to work without kids at his beck and call. "Go ask your mother," is his usual reply! Still, I did admire his work as I overheated in the stifling suburban. Did I mention I reclined the seat? Lo and behold, I hung on tightly to my last bit of sanity for yet another day. Life is good.

True Love

A successful marriage requires falling in love many times, always with the same person.

~Mignon McLaughlin

Family Vacation

I just got back from a family vacation. I was in charge of planning the vacation for the entire gang; we had 40 people in one place. The clincher? It was my husband's side of the family. Yes, I, the IN-LAW, was in charge of planning every one's fun-filled, once a year vacation. Pressure? YOU BETTER BELIEVE IT!!!!! I knew it would be great, and a ton of fun, but I knew that they didn't know that! You see, I grew up cramming a bunch of aunts, uncles, and cousins into a tiny cabin for an entire week, every summer! We had a blast! Most of my favorite childhood memories involve those summer vacations. My husband's family, on the other hand, had never done anything like that!! Well, the place I found for our vacation, had 6 bedrooms, multiple futons and hide-a-beds, 5 bathrooms, a pool table, ping-pong table, play-set, volleyball... the works. What a castle! Much more than what I grew up with. Still, I was a nervous wreck wondering what everyone thought of the place, and the whole idea of putting the entire crew in one spot for five days.

I am happy, thrilled, and relieved to report that we all had a great time! Everyone got along very well. Like most vacations, the time went way too fast!! We had fun on sea-do's, four-wheelers, playing in the water, on the boat, and telling jokes around the kitchen island. I know my mother-in-law worked way too hard making sure everyone was fed, but the rest of us enjoyed time of leisure.

I absolutely adore my husband's family... they are generous, loving, and a lot of fun! If there is one thing I learned from this experience, it would be this: I will gladly plan the next reunion! I won't be nervous this time, since they all have experienced what I knew all along.... being together in one spot for a few days is a precious gift.

I have sand and shells from the lake we stayed at, in a jar. I placed it on my windowsill above my kitchen sink... I get to relive precious memories every day. My heart smiles.

The Mommy Test

I was out walking with my 3 year old daughter. She picked up
something off the ground and started to put it in her mouth. I took the
item away from her and I asked her not to do that. "Why?" my daughter
asked.
"Because it's been on the ground, you don't know where it's been, it's
dirty and probably has germs" I replied.
At this point, my daughter looked at me with total admiration and
asked,
"Mommy, how do you know all this stuff? You are so smart."
I was thinking quickly. "All Moms know this stuff. It's on the Mommy
Test.
You have to know it, or they don't let you be a Mommy."
We walked along in silence for 2 or 3 minutes, but she was evidently pondering
this new information.

"OH...I get it!" she beamed, "So if you don't pass the test you have
to
be the Daddy."
"Exactly" I replied back with a big smile on my face.

Thank you, Suzee for the great story! ~Lisa

There are people who put their dreams in a little box and say, "Yes, I've got dreams, of course I've got dreams." Then they put the box away and bring it out once in awhile to look in it, and yep, they're still there.

~Erma Bombeck

Take out those little boxes ladies, open them, and live your dreams!!! What are you waiting for?

To Catch a Butterfly

Ahh... summertime. Living in the North Woods means having a deep appreciation for summer. I believe many would agree that the season is much too short.

I had the privilege of witnessing a sweet sight today. My three and four year-old children were running through the sprinkler. Along came a beautiful butterfly. It seemed to be playing with the kids; they danced with glee. My two little ones truly thought they could catch that beautiful butterfly. They tried again, and again.

They were an inspiration to me. They saw no limitations. They both had their eyes on that butterfly, and were determined that they would catch it no matter how long it took.

I need that kind of determination. My kids never seemed to get frustrated; they chased the butterfly with huge smiles across their faces, giggling the whole time. Let's giggle and dance as we chase our dreams, and reach for our goals. Pack up your bags of frustration, your boxes of self-doubt, and smile and giggle until your tummy hurts. You will be so beautiful!

Care to Take a Dare?

Hey, all of you friends that have uncomfortably sat down in the swanky Dare Chair...

How are you doing? Have you conquered any mountains lately? I'm just checking in on you; I'm ready and willing to give you a little nudge, or push. Those goals you've written... GO FOR IT! That dream you've dreamt... dust it off and LIVE IT!

Those of you who know me, know that I have an incredibly large sweet tooth. I love sugar, and it loves my hips, thighs, and derriere. Well, I knew I had to do something, so I made my husband DARE me to go without refined sugar until our vacation. (total of almost 8 weeks) Now, my husband is a wise man; he knew he was on shaky ground. But, I told him he MUST dare me, because I know myself well enough... if someone dares me, I HAVE TO DO IT! I am happy to say, the dare worked, and I haven't had any treats/refined sugar for about 5 weeks. I feel so much better. (Although, it is a funny thing... once I cut sugar out, I started craving salty foods. I'm working on that now, too. It's a cruel thing!)

So, what is the bad habit you are trying to kick? You may want to have someone DARE you out loud. You must take the dare seriously for it to work. No bad habit? How about a DARE to take a class, write a book, or sign up for a marathon?

I think dares are great... they keep us young, and alive!

Let Freedom Ring...

The clash of ideas is the sound of freedom.

~Lady Bird Johnson

1912-2007

Ahhh.... music!

Isn't it funny how a song will play that you haven't heard for years, and you still find yourself singing along, remembering most of the lyrics? That never ceases to amaze me. I have many play lists on my Yahoo Jukebox. Right now I am listening to my "Idaho Days" play list. The songs bring me back to 1990 in Idaho. Most of the memories attached to the songs contain my friend, Deb. Each and every song brings back a moment, a great memory, and a smile.

I'm not sure Deb ever knew just how important she was, and still is in my life. She was my lifeline in Idaho. I moved out there fresh out of college... didn't know a soul. We met shortly after I arrived, and were inseparable. We went to country music concerts, (wish she could fill you in on Idaho's largest State Fair cattle shows... Clint Black's crew was amazed, I am sure!) dancing, and hung out at my apartment. Our friendship has lasted for 17 years, and spans half way across the United States. Still, I'll pick up the phone, and we'll continue our friendship as if I lived next door.

Girlfriends and music are priceless. They are constant links to joy, comfort, and sanity.

Liberty is to the collective body, what health is to every individual body. Without health no pleasure can be tasted by man; without liberty, no happiness can be enjoyed by society.

~Thomas Jefferson

Cheers

Do you remember the show, Cheers? The place where everybody knows your name...

I am a server at a swanky place in the town where I live. I love it... it is a "play with adults time" for me. I love my kids dearly, but it is my little break in the week. We have regulars that come in just like "Norm" on Cheers. After living in a small town for quite some time now, I can relate to Norm. It's nice to have people know your name when you walk into a room.

Let me tell you, it is equally as nice being on the other end... the end that is calling your name. My "Norm" happens to be Bob. About once a month or so, I get to cheerfully call out, "BOB!" when he walks into the room. Bob has an infectious smile, a great bear hug, and a sincere heart. He cuts straight to the chase and really, truly wants to know how I am doing. I am a server. Just that. I bring great wine, excellent food, and try my best to make my customers enjoy their experience. Bob makes me feel like a queen.

May God bless Bob and all of the good people like him in this world. They have a true gift... the gift of making people feel cherished.

Never Give Up

I am here for a purpose and that purpose is to grow into a mountain, not to shrink to a grain of sand. Henceforth will I apply ALL my efforts to become the highest mountain of all and I will strain my potential until it cries for mercy.

~Og Mandino

Wise Words

It is better to keep your mouth closed and let people think you are a fool than to open it and remove all doubt.

~Mark Twain