Thanks-living!

 

The best thanks we can give is to live a life of thanks to God--

sharing our time and gifts with others.

One of the best things you can do when you are feeling down is to find someone less fortunate than you and go bring some joy or help.

The Springs Rescue Mission is a place where we are trying to reach out about once a month now. I was wanting to sign up again to serve a meal like we have twice before, but all the volunteer slots were full. So I volunteered our help for deboning turkey. Last week on Tuesday, I was able to take Crystal and Carrie to help debone the turkeys the mission is planning to serve to a couple thousand or more people this coming week for Thanksgiving meals.

Only a few people showed up to help!  There were 60 to 80 smoked or boiled turkeys to debone and about eight of us to do it for the first couple hours. Then the guys from the rehab program came in  to help.  The girls and I did about 14 turkeys before we had to leave.  Like the lady across from us said, serving the big THanksgiving meal to thousands of people next week would be more exciting, and all the volunteer spaces for that are full, but this is the behind-the-scenes work that gets little accolade, but needs to be done, and she was just figuring on stars in her crown someday in the future for doing humble work behind the scenes!!



Feeling low again? Off we go a couple hours early to prayer meeting so that we can stop in to see a friend from church whose liver has quit working, and who can only eat fruits and vegetables. The children and I enjoyed picking out some nice fruits at Sprouts market for our dear friend, Rose arranging all but the pineapple prettily in a basket.

"If all you can have is fruit and vegetables," we say, "at least we can put it in a basket and make it pretty!"

Our friend, not thinking of himself, asked us to go down the street to where his parents live, and "give them a little break." They cannot get out much, are in their nineties, I think. We follow him down the street, make acquaintance with the parents. The girls play some piano music and duets we had brought along. They want us to sing, so we sing. One part.  Hannah sings "Jesus Loves Me" quite a bit off tune. I surrender our lack of gift when it comes to music. We do our best and give it as a gift to Jesus--and to lonely people who prefer one part, off tune singing, to nothing at all.

It's part of Thanks Living.

And then in the middle of weary days, we on purpose take some time to

Just Rest.

When we don't take time to rest in His arms, we don't make it.

Having thought about something like this for a few years, this year the girls were big enough to make it happen this Thanksgiving Sunday--today. The children made three kinds of cookies to put into little harvest bags to all the folk at church who help with Sunday School--teachers, secretary, assistant superintendent, janitors, musicians who play the prelude. Here are whoopie pies with autumn sprinkles. They also made peanut butter cookies and molasses cookies.

 Between Sunday School and church this morning, Jonathan, our church's Sunday School superintendent, read a poem his wife had written thanking all those who make Sunday School happen, while the little children passed the bags pictured below to the teachers and others who do so much for Sunday School for nothing but love of God.  Little Rebekah, an 8-yr-old in my class who has a gift of art, drew a lovely cornucopia on a dry-erase board, which we set up front, with the verse "O give thanks unto the Lord, for He is good." It was a lovely way for her to use her talent for the glory of God.  Some children find it hard to sing or play music, but they have other talents, and I have been trying to find ways to encourage them to use those other talents for God's glory.



Our Ukrainian friend, Henri, who took these pictures one day for us,  gave us the CD Friday with the photos on them.

 

These two photos capture some of the golden wonder of God's beautiful autumn colors!

"That our sons may be as plants grown up in their youth..."

"That our daughters may be as pillars, sculptured in palace style..."

Psalm 144:12

His Eye is on the Chicken

It was just an ordinary chicken--

black and white speckled feathers, three crooked toes, beady black eyes.

But with a very UNordinary squawk.

The wife and the husband who were in the office trying to work through a difficulty,

suddenly heard a strange sound that seemed to be coming from the kitchen.

"A chicken?"

A dog?

"It's a kid!" the husband says.

There it comes again! "Errr-or-awk!"  Some sick sound! Plus, what would an animal be doing in the kitchen? Except that Carrie was out doing chores late. Had she let something in?

 

Without further ado, both run to the kitchen, Mom wiping tears from her eyes, wondering if one of the kids is blowing a strange whistle, or is it some neighbor dog????

And there they see it, the black and white speckled chicken, craning its neck and making the most woeful squeaks and squawks you ever heard.

This was one time there had to literally be a frog in the throat. Every cluck was a croak. Every squawk was an anguished gaggy howl that sounded like a cross between a --

well, a coyote and a --glurp, whatever that is.

Obviously something had gotten stuck in its craw.

Stuck in its craw.

We know something about things stuck in the craw. You don't really want it there. You try to get it out. But it just stays stuck.

Wife and husband laugh through tears. They laugh and laugh and laugh. The chicken croaks, the wife laughs. The chicken howls and chokes. The husband doubles over laughing. They try to capture the chicken, which Carrie had brought in because of its strange problem, and it skids across the floor and glurps and croaks and screeches.

The wife fills a container with water and the husband captures the hen and a drop of water gets choked down.  A drop here and a croak there. Mom rubs the poor hen's neck and craw. More drops of water. Let the hen go. Mottled feathers skid across the linoleum again.

Somebody bigger came to the rescue.

Living water mixes with earth's problems.

Softens the hardness, shows mercy to choking humanity.

Man laughs at stupid extremities that ought not to have happened, stuckness that shouldn't be stuck.

But do not the imploring, choking cries that others laugh at, or, that others don't hear at all, 

get heard by the "Somebody Bigger Than You and I"?

Somebody Bigger did hear; and sent a choking chicken to dispel the gloom.

Thanks, little mottled black and white choking chicken!

 

Birthdays and Bad Hair Days

 

I found these pictures on the camera memory instead of the camera card! I wondered where these pictures of Danny's birthday had disappeared!  

Danny practicing decorating his cake before it got iced!

 

The new pair of pajamas Grandma Morley sent Danny for his birthday.

Did someone say we have been having some bad hair days lately?

You never know what toddlers (and their seniors) will come up with.

This is called "green tongue disease." Actually it is a dill pickle. My children would eat pickles all day if I let them. They even drink pickle juice!

And this is....

well, would this be what is called a "bad hair day"?

Somebody huddling under the covers trying to read their Bible before starting the day,

while youngest daughter climbs in with Zebra, the kitty. 

Or bad feather day?

Or maybe "everything going upside down day,"

On upside-down, bad hair days, these are the kind of pictures we take--

 



to make up for photos that got accidentally deleted.

And to find ways to stay positive about mice in the attic.

 Thankfully, a fourth mouse was up in the attic and got caught

so Rose

 could pose

with a successful mousetrap in the attic for a bad hair day picture!

Always something to be thankful for!

 

Up to here---

with bad hair days??

 



Sunshine in the House

Occasionally moms go just a little wild coming up with things for the little ones to do day after day, year after year. Especially those late afternoon hours when everyone is tired and cranky and occasionally bored.

That is when moms look around and spy pumpkins that dads brought home from the farmer's market for $2 each.

And Mom decides it is time to cut one up and cook it for pumpkin pies.

The little ones scoop seeds out of the middle into the pail for steers and goats and chickens.

And there is a bit of golden sunshine in the house while the dusk sets in, an hour earlier now that Daylight Savings time has ebbed.

 

Another glimmer of sunshine.

Danny finds a little brown egg out in the barn.

Growing up, my family called deviled eggs "sunshine" eggs. No reason to call such bright, sunny eggs deviled. 

A chilly day outdoors, when a friend arrived with a big load of hay for us to store until Sammy could help him sell it.

On top of the world!

Nothing like sitting on a big stack of hay.

We reflect on God's goodness, even when the election results did not turn out as we hoped.

We watched, heartsick, as we see only change for the worse.

That night Jonathan and I both lost a lot of sleep--between election results and mice scritching around in the attic directly above our bed.

Mice--like the silly little pesty things that really are so little--

and yet drive us nuts--

compared to the big things that are so big we cannot possibly carry them ourselves--

like election results--

because the load is too heavy.

In hours like that night, some precious thoughts from one of my favorite blogs held me steady.

"What you think you cannot handle--

might actually be God handing you a gift." 

This election, Lord. A gift?

And then another quote from Ann Voskamp's blog: "What is beyond the redemption of God?"

The next day, someone down south called and wanted the whole load of hay. Our boys spent the afternoon and evening helping our friend deliver the hay. The sun still shone. God was still alive. He was taking care of us.  He is watching the president; the Congress; the local officials; the common, ordinary working people like you and me; the mouse that scritched and scratched in the attic;  the sparrow that falls.

Nothing escapes His notice.

"His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches" what is happening in America, what is happening in our home; what is happening in our lives.

He knows when we are losing sleep, when we spend Sunday School hour in the van because of pain; when our days slog along; when we wake up with something out of place,

and there is so much pain again, you can hardly stand up straight at the stove.

Is life just all pain?

And then we realize it is not something out of place. It is kidney pain.

NOT ANOTHER KIDNEY STONE AGAIN!

A trip to the grocery store for lemons and olive oil.

 

And mix the tart and oily brew and gulp it down.

"What you think you cannot handle--might actually be God handing you a gift."
Time to rest? Time to read a book while trying to forget the sickness and pain?
Time to blog? A sense of sympathy for all those in pain?
A chance to stop doing, accomplishing, working.
A chance to just suffer, and pace the floor, and drink horrible brews.

But then the relief; and being able to take a walk without pain; able to lift others to God in prayer; and blog a little from your heart.
It's easy to sound spiritual on a blog.
Not so easy when you are gagging and gasping with the kidney stone brew that tastes horrible but works.
Not so easy when your daughter accidentally deletes the one picture off the camera that you especially wanted to put on the blog, and you gasp things you regret.
And then you have to realize that momentarily you made the blog more important than your daughter's feelings, and you must admit your mistake and apologize to her. It doesn't feel spiritual to admit mistakes, to have to say, "My blog was more important to me than your feelings. I'm sorry."  But sometimes it is the most spiritual thing we can do.
It sure helps heal wounded feelings.
The sour, lemon-oil brew of sincere apology--and the pain is relieved and the tears change to a smile, and a mother and daughter--minus two pictures meant just for the blog-- continue to love each other.

 



Carrie's Creations

Here are a few of Carrie's recent creations. This beautiful flowered jumper was one she made for the pastor's new baby girl. She gave it, along with the pink and white hat and booties she knitted, at the baby shower we had for the pastor's wife a week ago.

And just in time! The Mosley's baby girl, Charisse Lorraine, was born Tuesday afternoon this week.

Election Day surprise! A bright spot of the day.

Has it not been said, "A baby is God's statement that the world must go on."

Christ is King of Kings, Lord of lords, and President of presidents.

To Him every knee will one day bow.

 

In the meantime, young girls growing into young ladies try their hand at sewing little clothes for babies, like Hannah of the Old Testament, and Dorcas of the New. Here is another dress Carrie sewed, from fabric from a nightgown I had cut out years ago and never sewed.

And booties and hat and mittens to match.

And yes, this is another of Carrie's creations.

You wouldn't know the same young lady who knitted and sewed flowery, fluffy, fuzzy, frilly, and feminine baby gowns would also put on a frumpy straw hat and flop her younger sister around friskily in a fat wheelbarrow.

Fresh Meat in the Kitchen!

Fresh meat--really fresh!

Days from the hunt.

Jonathan and Anna wrestle a quarter of an elk out of the bag and onto the table.

The bandsaw Jonathan brought in from the garage did not work for cutting meat. The blade kept slipping off. Giving up, we called the butcher, but it was going to cost 74 cents a pound for him to process the meat. He said he never saws elk meat anyway, because the bone leaves wild flavor in. He cuts all the meat away from the bones. 

 

In that case, we decided we could do the work ourselves. It is entirely possible for anyone who knows how to operate a sharp knife to cut meat off of bones. 

We worked for hours that day, while the girls wrapped and marked the meat.

What a blessing to have fresh red meat to put in the freezer!  We made some delicious stir fry that day, sauteing thinly sliced elk with mushrooms, onions, and pepper. 

A couple days later, the children and Anna chopped up all the scrap meat that we were going to make into burger...

and put it through a meat grinder.  We have already made chili with some of the elk burger, and it was some of the best tasting chili I have ever tasted--right on a level with the chili Iva made with bear meat!