I HAVE RETURNED

Please forgive my extended absence from my blogpost. Many events in the past few years turned my life upside-down. With God's persistent love, care, and provision, I have almost overcome the pain associated with those struggles. That's such good news. To know that God is faithful to His promise to never leave us nor forsake us. I feel His loving arms around me every day.

The Lord has also granted me favor through dear Christian friends who have not left or forsaken me. Family members continue to share our love with each other.

I'll bring you up to date with the most recent events: After 10 years of loyal service with the same company, it was secretly determined that a younger woman could do my job for less money. Riling the boss' presumed girlfriend aided in his decision to "let me retire." I immediately accepted another similar position, which lasted a month. It was a good company, with friendly and helpful co-workers. However, a bit of unintended bait & switch about the qualifications helped me determine that it wasn't a good fit. A week later, Barbour Publishing offered me a free-lance writing job for a 180-day devotional: "The God of Possible." This will be my third devotional with Barbour, not counting the "Fear Less, Pray More Journal," which they created using my devotion of the same title. I loved the challenge and the opportunity to pour over God's word to complete my work. This devotional should be released in December 2020. I receive no royalties for these because it's a flat-fee contract assignment. But it isn't about the money. It's about sharing God's love.

Now, when I am ready to seek another day job, nearly the entire nation is shut down because of the COVID-19 Virus pandemic. While most of us are stranded in our homes, able to leave only for necessities like fuel for the car, groceries, and medical appointments, this is a great time to turn our attentions to the Lord. As Paul wrote in 1 Timothy 4:13, "Until I come, give attention to the public reading of Scripture, exhortation and teaching." (NASB) We have time now to pray for our loved ones, pray for our nation, pray for our world, and give thanks for His blessings in spite of the life-style disruptions. We can use our phones to listen to Bible verses during our daily walks around the neighborhood, tell others about God's gift of eternal life, and teach His word through venues like Facebook, blogs, Twitter, and others.

This post isn't meant to bring guilt to anyone. I confess I spent the last two weeks watching reruns of Murder She Wrote, Gunsmoke, and Laramie." I have a valid excuse: my cats follow me around the house. If I dare sit down in the TV room, one or both hop into my lap and pin me to the chair. (A little humor helps in these dark days.)

If you feel so inclined, please join me in prayer:

"Heavenly Father, please bring Your peace and healing to those who have contracted this virus, and Your strength, love and comfort to the families of those who have succumbed to it. Let us look to You as our hope in these difficult days ahead. In the name of my Savior, Jesus. Amen."

Chicken Soup for the Soul - Life Lessons From the Cat

I submitted my short story, "Meowy Christmas," to the 2015 Tapestry Awards contest. Tapestry is a Florida state-wide contest associated with Word Weavers International, an excellent not-for-profit organization that supports Christian writers through an encouraging critique system.

Imagine my joy when "Meowy Christmas" took first place in the short story category! The judges who read the submissions also offer suggestions, when needed, to improve the work. As an example, their notations informed me that not everyone is familiar with an Austin Healy Sprite. I mentioned my 1969 British sports car in the story as I described trying to drive a stick shift from one city to another with two rambunctious kittens underfoot. (For those under thirty years of age, a stick shift is a vehicle that doesn't have an automatic transmission. The driver shifts the gears using a clutch to the left of the brake pedal. 😼)

I made the suggested edits to the story, then submitted it to Chicken Soup for the Soul for one of their Christmas books.

No response.

The following year, life sent me storms of challenges that rocked my world. The story sat idle in my computer until the tempests died down. I opened it up again, made a few technical edits, then submitted it again to Chicken Soup for the Soul for their next collection of cat stories.

A few months letter, Voilá! The long-awaited message from D'ette, the Chicken Soup for the Soul editor, arrived in my inbox.

As I read the other stories, I consider it an honor to have mine included in this collection with other talented, award-winning authors. "Chicken Soup for the Soul Life Lessons from the Cat" is available in bookstores, online from Amazon, Barnes and Noble, and through the Chicken Soup for the Soul website. I have a few in my personal stock for local friends.

They make great gifts. Enjoy! 😸

Remembering the Greatest Generation

Since my soon-to-be completed novel, "Miss Ellie's Orange Tree," is set in the 1940s, I am re-running this previous post:

 Remembering the Greatest Generation

Ads on TV call for donations of WWII memorabilia. These ads state the importance of documenting "The Greatest Generation." Call me cynical, but do they really want to preserve this part of our history, or destroy anything that might show our soldiers in a positive and victorious light?

 

We've seen how the education system has twisted the discovery of the New World, the Mayflower passengers and the American Revolution. They've demonized Christopher Columbus, Thomas Jefferson and other signers of the Declaration of Independence, as well as removed portraits of George Washington from school buildings. The latest misconception of the Confederate flag, supported by the news media, speaks to the skewed teachings of the War Between the States. They even mislabeled it, calling it a "civil war." The word "slavery" is mistakenly associated with that war, instead of the true issues of taxation, economics, and states' rights.

 

For this reason, I'm hesitant to send anything without doing some research on these organizations. Who funds them? Are their workers volunteers or paid employees? Where will they store the collected items? Will the public be allowed to view the items? What will they do with faith-related letters or documents?

 

Many years ago, I donated my late father's uniforms and some photos to the Mighty Eighth Air Force Museum. I recently found the web page for the 379th Bomb Group, my dad's unit. (379thbga.org : The 379th Bomb Group of WWII) We may have located a photo of him with his crew. I have his small Gideon Bible, in which he inscribed the words: "This Bible flew 33 missions with me."

 

 Before you give away precious memorabilia to an unknown source, do your research. Locate your family member's unit. Visit bona fide museums and consider donating to them instead. Preserve them and pass them on to additional generations to give them a perspective of the faith and sacrifices required to defeat a godless dictator and win a world war.

 

Let us never forget the Greatest Generation and the faith that brought them through to victory!

The Empty Stocking

THE EMPTY STOCKING

"Tonight I want to tell you the story of an empty stocking.

Once upon a midnight clear, there was a child’s cry. A blazing star hung over a stable, and wise men came with birthday gifts. We haven’t forgotten that night down the centuries. We celebrate it with stars on Christmas trees, the sound of bells, and with gifts—but especially with gifts. You give me a book; I give you a tie. Aunt Martha has always wanted an orange squeezer. Uncle Henry could do with a new pipe. Oh, we forget nobody, adult or child.

 

All the stockings are filled.

All, that is, except one.

And we have even forgotten to hang it up. It’s the stocking for the Child born in a manger. It’s His birthday we’re celebrating. Don’t let us ever forget that. Let us ask ourselves what He would wish for most, and then let each put in his share: loving kindness, warm hearts, and a stretched out hand of tolerance. All the shining gifts that make peace on earth."
 

David Niven, The Bishop’s Wife, 1947

 

A Bit of Family History

My dad researched our family tree back in the 1960s, in pre-Internet days. He had to do it the hard way, through letters and library archives. He had told us the story of our ancestor, Sir Gregory Clement, who was hanged for beheading the king of England.



Sir Gregory Clement

My sister found a short article on Sir Gregory Clement through Wikipedia, and they even had a portrait of him! Born in 1594, to John Clement, a merchant and Mayor of Plymouth, Gregory grew up to become a Member of Parliament and one of the regicides of King Charles I. After working for the British East India Company, Sir Gregory returned to London from India and supported Parliament in the civil war.
He became a Member of Parliament for Fowey in Cornwall in 1648.
He then served as a commissioner of the High Court of Justice at the trial of King Charles in January 1649. He was the fifty-fourth signatory on the king's death warrant. Fifty-nine commissioners signed in total. In 1652, the House of Commons dismissed him because of a reported scandal with his maidservant. Political opponent Thomas Harrison is suspect in engineering the false accusations. (Some things never change.)

When Charles II reclaimed the throne, all fifty-nine judge regicides who signed the death warrant and witnessed the king's execution feared for their lives. A few fled England, but Sir Gregory was arrested, tried, and convicted of high treason.

According to Dad's research, the executioner offered those who were convicted with him a cordial for courage before being put to death. Sir Gregory refused the elixir and went bravely (and unrepentantly) to his death. On October 17, 1660, Sir Gregory Clement was hanged, drawn, and quartered at Charing Cross. A sad ending for a man of nobility and noble causes. So, there you have it. Part of my history. And I'm sure a part of history that will prevent me from ever being invited to tea with Queen Elizabeth (a direct descendant of Charles I?).

OUR INCOMPARABLE GRIEF

The younger of my husband’s two daughters died a few years before I met him. The loss shattered the family. When I asked him about grief counseling, he said he briefly attended meetings for parents who had lost a child. However, he left the group when the parents related how their children died. Their descriptions unintentionally grew into a “can you top this?” competition. So deep was each one’s personal anguish that they had little to no sympathy with which to comfort one another.

Grief is painful, regardless of the circumstances. The death of a spouse, death of a parent, death of a child, death of a sibling, death of a friend, death of a marriage, even death of a beloved pet – each brings its own magnitude of bereavement.
I tried, without success, to choke back my tears when I told my physical therapist that my husband had unexpectedly passed away. She understood my pain. An auto accident had claimed her husband’s life several years ago. Our situations were similar in that we both lost our husbands, but they also had their differences: She identified her husband’s body from the wreckage. My husband died in my arms. Instead of comparing her loss to mine, she grasped my shoulders, looked me in the eyes, and said, “You’re going to be okay.” I desperately needed to hear those words.

To weigh one person’s loss against another’s doesn’t diminish the grief, but stabs another dagger into an already broken heart. We can offer our compassion, love, and sympathy; even months or years later, when we recognize that each loss has it’s own depth of sorrow.

(A widowed friend sent the quote to me in a text message when I lost my husband. I wish to give credit to the author, but couldn't find the source.)

Confession of a Pie Hoarder

My friends, Sarah, and her adult daughter, Grace, are (in my humble opinion) champion pie bakers. Although pecan pie had not been one of my favorites until I met these two wonderful ladies, my mouth waters at the mere thought of a slice of their pecan pie.

They brought a whole pie to my home for a covered dish luncheon during the holidays. I put it in the refrigerator during the main course and forgot to set it out for the guests when we were ready for dessert. Was that a real slip of the memory, or a subconscious desire to hoard the delicious delicacy for my own enjoyment? Hmmm.... a point to ponder for a nano-second.

When it became apparent that I could not, in good conscience, hog the whole pie, I shared it with my co-workers. All it took was a two-line office-wide e-mail: "Home-made pecan pie in kitchen. Enjoy!"

 A stampede to rival a scene from "Rawhide" confirmed my suspicions that my office buddies weren't yet sugared-out from all the earlier treats and goodies presented throughout the month of December. I thought I saw Rowdy Yates among them, but, of course, it was a sweets-induced hallucination.

In this first week of the first month of the new year, I have cleansed my guilty conscience. I have confessed my desire to hoard a treasured pie, and shared my bounty with others.

Now, I have to ask myself: was my motive to share the delectable dessert seeded in a heart of giving, or my fear of an expanding waistline?