Not a Friday Photo

 Today is my birthday, and to celebrate, I am posting one of my favorite birthday photos.

This picture was taken the morning of my 60th birthday. Our family spent the week at the beach, including our two oldest grandchildren. 

The morning of my birthday, I sat on the deck with a cup of coffee and watched the sunrise.  My grandson, Jack, came out to share this special moment with me, and I reflected on how great the Lord has blessed me through the years.  This is one of my most precious memories, not because of the beautiful sunrise, but because it was shared just between Jack and me.  Jack is a young man now and I love being with him just as much, perhaps even more, than I did then.

   

My morning coffee

My birthday buddy.

             

        

Friday Photos - "And He shall direct thy paths."

This picture is from one of our backpacking trips.  We were hiking on the Appalachian Trail from Three Forks, in Georgia.  We went northbound as far as time would allow, and returned to camp along the creek at Three Forks.  The next day, we went southbound to the summit of Springer Mountain.  Along the way, we came to this spot where the sun was shining down on the trail.  I think we have all had moments in our lives when the Lord so "directed our path" that it seemed as if a bright heavenly light was shining on it. 

"In all thy ways acknowledge Him, and He shall direct thy paths."

Proverbs 3:6 

 

A Smile on the Wind

 A Sweet Olive tree, or osmanthus fragrans (literally meaning "flower fragrant"), is a broadleaf, evergreen shrub.

I have had a Sweet Olive tree in my yard almost all my life.  

As a young girl, there was one outside my bedroom window, and I loved to open the windows wide so I could inhale the lovely fragrance.  

Five years after we moved into our house, someone gave me a Sweet Olive tree, and it has grown well.  It produces its sweet-smelling flowers multiple times a year, which always takes me to my childhood home in my mind.

There is an interesting thing about these tiny blossoms, though.  Sometimes you can smell them hundreds of feet away, but you may not smell them in your own backyard.  When Glen, Ellie, and I are out walking, the smell will stop me in my tracks.  I want to breathe in as much of the aroma as possible before taking another step.  The scent calms me, soothes me, and almost always makes me smile. It is a smile on the wind. I find it an excellent example of the Lord to send me a scent to bless my heart, from someone else's yard.

There are times in our lives when something we have done, perhaps without even realizing it, becomes a blessing to someone.  The simplest of these is probably the smile.  Smiling at someone, especially if they don't expect it, can have a profound impact on a person.  Sometimes it can change their whole outlook on the day.  Maybe it encourages them to smile at the next person they encounter.  A smile portrays kindness, cheerfulness, and friendship.  When coming in contact with a person, even briefly, what better thing can we impart to them than kindness, cheerfulness, and friendship?

As we go through our days, we can send the sweetness of our smiles to everyone. May our smiles, like the smell of the Sweet Olive tree, bring smiles to faces and joy to hearts.

For His merciful kindness is great toward us: 

And the truth of the LORD endureth for ever. 

Praise ye the LORD. 

Psalm 117:2

A merry heart maketh a cheerful countenance: 

Proverbs 15:13

A man that hath friends must shew himself friendly: 

and there is a friend that sticketh closer than a brother.

Proverbs 18:24

.

x

God Always Has a Purpose

When I was a little girl, about six or so, my father had an accident at work. He was a Marine Engineer and worked on the engines of tugboats. He had been cleaning a part of an engine, and the rag in his hand got pulled into the machine. It also pulled his finger into the machine.

I didn't know this at the time; all I knew was that a suitcase had been packed for me, and my aunt was coming to pick me up to spend the night. I didn't mind that, my Aunt Flossie's and Uncle Poppy's house was my favorite place to be.

When I returned home, my father had a large bandage on the middle finger of his left hand. But the bandage wasn't as long as his finger had been. He had lost almost half of that finger to the machine.

I can still see my dad, after all the bandages were off, and the finger healed, sitting and holding a plastic ball. He would squeeze it over and over again. I didn't understand it then, but I do now.

This month, I had surgery on the very same finger of the very same hand as my dad. I, too, am doing hand exercises to regain my strength. I want to be able to do the things I love to do without asking for help. My dad was consistent with his exercises because he wanted to be able to play the guitar again. That hand was the hand he used to fret the chords.

Having tried three times to learn to play the guitar  (and been interrupted each time by a different hand surgery), I don't know how he learned to make those chords with half his finger missing. I had trouble with them, and I have a whole finger! But he did, and he kept on playing his guitar for the rest of his life. The exercises, for both him and me, bring pain. Daddy knew, as well as I, that with the pain would come healing, strength, and flexibility. It is a price that must be paid for something better.

In this life, we often face painful situations. Some we know are coming, like my surgery. Some we don't expect, like a machine chopping off part of my dad's finger. Either way, if we know and trust the Lord Jesus, we can rest in the fact that there is a greater purpose for our pain.  

At some point, in the midst of our pain, or even later in life, we share with someone else in a painful situation to encourage them, strengthen them, and help them move further along the road to wellness. For me, remembering my father's journey more than sixty years ago has helped encourage me to be faithful in my exercises.  

We never know when the Lord is planning to use something that has happened to us to bring forth great things in others. But we can always know His heart for us is love. Eternally, His heart will be love for us. He is now, and He will always be, working "all things together for good to them that love God" (Romans 8:28).

"To whom God would make known what is the riches of the glory of this mystery among the Gentiles: which is Christ in you, the hope of glory:"

Colossians 1:27

Friday Photos

This picture was taken at the Grand Hotel in Point Clear, Alabama.  I think what I liked most about it was the contrast between the blue water and the clean, white feathers of the duck.

 

Only God and People...

(I received the final clearance from my surgeon, and I am "cleared without restrictions" on my hand! So, I am back on the keyboard.  I will have to admit that a couple of keystrokes remind me I had hand surgery two weeks ago!)

I'd like to share with you an experience I had with Ellie a few days ago that sent my morning on a downward turn.

I was sitting in my chair in the room where I write. Each morning, I sit in that chair, drink my coffee, eat breakfast, read the Bible, and plan my day.  

Ellie, as usual, was sitting in her bed in front of the window, watching the world go by. I had only had one sip of coffee (which is not sufficient to wake me up) when Ellie, staring out the window, became a Tasmanian devil! She was barking and twisting and turning in reaction to whatever was outside the window. (Most likely, a cat.) Then she headed off to the Living Room to watch the movement of the offending animal from the window in there.  

In the midst of her demon possession, she knocked over the table by my chair. My coffee cup was emptied onto the top of the table, causing a sea of coffee, in which the sand impression of Sparrow's pawprint sat. (Sparrow was our previous beagle, which we had for 13 years.) 

In her quick departure, Ellie also caused the table to tilt slightly, so that the sea of coffee now cascaded into a basket by my chair, where I kept a blanket and various items.  The blanket, my blood pressure cuff, and my guitar workbooks were now splattered with coffee.

I headed to the Living Room with purpose.  Ellie was looking out the window, presumably for the demon that seemed to have possessed her. I expressed my displeasure with her actions very plainly to her.  I don't know that I have ever spoken to Ellie in that manner before.

I returned to my chair to clean up the spilled coffee. After I cleaned up the mess on, around, and underneath the table, I went looking for Ellie.

She wasn't sitting in her bed in front of the window (the scene of the crime).  She wasn't with Glen.  She wasn't in the Den, her second favorite spot to sit and hang out.  I found her stretched out on the Living Room floor, looking extremely pitiful.  I took her to the room where the incident occurred (which I affectionately call "the Mountain Room"), and I actually had to carry her.  I set her in my lap and tried to convince her that I wasn't going to kill her.  After a while, I went to the kitchen to replace my spilled coffee, and as is her usual protocol, she followed me. I made her do some commands she learned as a puppy as an excuse to give her a treat.  Then she followed me back to the Mountain Room, climbed into her bed, and took a nap. Too much excitement for one morning, I guess.

Meanwhile, I sat in my chair, looking at the world outside the window, reminding myself of one of my favorite sayings,

"Only God and people are eternal; everything else is just stuff."

I guess by "people," I mean dogs, too.  Ellie is much more important than anything she might have damaged during her escapade.  Even more important than Sparrow's pawprint. (I know Sparrow would heartily agree with that.) She is a living, breathing creature with thoughts and feelings, and...life.  Everything else on that table was stuff.

After her nap, Ellie continued to act sad, and I wanted to remedy that. I wanted to reassure her just how much she was loved. Ellie has a habit: if she wants to play tug-of-war with us, she brings one of her toys and lays it at our feet.  This is the invitation for us to chase her and play the game she loves so much. I asked her to bring me a toy, and she didn't respond.  I tried again, and again, no response. 

Then I decided to try a different tactic.  I went to the Den, grabbed her favorite toy —a stuffed mallard —and went into the Mountain Room, where I dropped it at her feet. She looked up at me in what I interpreted to be disbelief.  She knew exactly what I was saying to her with that toy, and we had a nice game of tug-of-war, after which she sat in my lap for a long while.

This experience with Ellie taught me several things.  First, creatures, human and otherwise, are often much more sensitive than we imagine, and we do well to seek the Lord's guidance in our interactions with them.

Next, it reinforces to me that even when our Lord needs to correct us about something in our lives, He does it out of love for us.  He is in the process of conforming us to the image of His dear Son, and sometimes that "conforming" isn't exactly comforting to us.  But it is always for our best. Just as Ellie needed correction, I sometimes need correction too.

Most importantly, this reminded me that when the Lord does have to correct us or redirect us, His heart never changes toward us.  He is always abundant, pure, love toward us.  He is always for us. And He is showing us that each moment, if we open our eyes to see and believe. Ellie thought the offer of a game was too good to be true (Yes, I know I am assuming what she is thinking, but it works for me here), but it wasn't.  I absolutely wanted to play with her, just as our heavenly Father desires fellowship with us. 

"My son, despise not the chastening of the Lord, neither be weary of His correction: For whom the Lord loveth He correcteth; even as a father the son in whom he delighteth."

Proverbs 3:11,12

Friday Photos - The First of Hundreds

 I will never forget this tree, or this photo.  The photo was taken on October 20, 2014, at 6:02 pm.

We were at the end of the first day of the first backpacking hike.  We had already climbed to the summit of Mt. LeConte (6593) feet on the Alum Cave Trail and crossed the Boulevard Trail to where it ended at the Appalachian Trail.  

This was our first white blaze.  If we hadn't been running out of light, or running out of energy (and still had 0.5 mile to our shelter) I would have kissed that blaze!

The first of hundreds.

I Don't Want to Set The World on Fire...

 (This is a repeat of a post written in 2009. It has been revised to update the time frames mentioned.)

I Don't Want to Set The World on Fire...

Perhaps it was the chilly, wet, grey weather. Maybe it was because I was sitting across from the small window at the cafe, looking out at the grim sky and the bare branches of a solitary tree, watching an occasional gull fly past. Perhaps it was because my Daddy's birthday was just ten days away. He would have been 107 this year. But he has been gone for 28 years.

Anyway, Glen and I were sitting at the cafe, each doing our own work on our computers, and the cafe was playing old music on the intercom. I really wasn't paying attention to the music until, unexpectedly, the words of the old song not only caught my attention, but also flung me far into the past. I could hear my father strumming on his guitar and singing those words..."I don't want to set the world on fire....I just want to start a flame in your heart!" 

All of a sudden, I was a little girl again, whose only man in her life was her daddy. My eyes filled with tears as I thought about how I would love to hear him sing that funny old song to me just one more time.

Once, I attended an in-service at work on "Compassion Stress Fatigue". If I had known what the first "exercise" would be, I would have surely opted to not go. We each were given a brown paper bag and slips of paper. On the slips of paper, we wrote down things we loved (mine were people), things we loved doing, or things we looked forward to doing in the future.

Then we rolled the tops down on our bags and shook them up. We were told the bags represented our lives. Then we were to imagine that we were given the diagnosis of inoperable cancer and we had six weeks to live. We were to open the bag, take out the slips of paper, slowly read what was on each one, say goodbye to whatever was on it, and then tear it up. The first piece of paper I took up had a name on it. "Jackson" -my grandson. Immediately, I was in tears. I could not tear up that piece of paper. How would I say goodbye to that piece of my heart? Then the moderator said something that put it all in perspective for me. "Tear up that thing you love and know you will never see it again!" I realized that if I know the Lord Jesus as my Savior and if those who are written on those slips know Him as Savior, then cancer and even death cannot truly separate us.

For Christians, we know that death is only a temporary separation. There is another day coming, a day of reunion, a day in which we will have a perfect bond and union, in which we will be together forever. After I remembered that, I was able to tear up all the other slips of paper without the emotional upheaval that the moderator expected. I had a Blessed Hope of which she was unaware.

Sitting in the cafe, my eyes still wet with the tears of missing my Daddy, Glen asked me to pick out a weekly memory verse for his Orange Moon Devotionals. I knew exactly which one I would choose. The one that reminds me that there will be a day when my Daddy and I will indeed meet again:

"For the Lord Himself shall descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of the archangel, and with the trump of God: and the dead in Christ shall rise first:

Then we which are alive and remain shall be caught up together with them in the clouds, to meet the Lord in the air: and so shall we ever be with the Lord. Wherefore comfort one another with these words." 

I Thessalonians 4:16-18

The 5th One

 I apologize for not posting in a few days.  On the 1st, I had my fifth hand surgery.  This one, though, was the simplest of the five.  In spite of that, I still have been limited as to what I can do with my hand until after I see the surgeon this Wednesday.  After that, I hope to catch you up as to what Ellie, Glen, and I have been doing.

Frannie Davis

Friday Photos

This photo is not of excellent quality, nor is it a flattering photo of me, but it represents a humorous event in our lives.

For several years, Glen and I backpacked sections of the Appalachian Trail.  On this particular hike, we were hiking in Virginia.  Part of the hike included a section where feral ponies had been brought in to eat the vegetation.  Due to the prevalence of hikers in this area, the ponies have become very accustomed to humans.  They will even come up to you to either get food or to lick the salt off your arms and legs.

I love the beauty and power of large animals, but I must admit that I have never been comfortable around them. I think this stems from watching my brother get bitten by a very large dog when I was a little girl.

So, back to the picture.  We had hiked all day and were ready to set up our tent for the night in a spot nestled in the curve of the trail.  We could see the southbound trail, but not the northbound trail. Before we set up our tent, we decided to have a cup of coffee.  I sat down on a large rock to enjoy my cup, and I had only taken a couple of sips when Glen shouted, "Look, honey!  The ponies!"

The ponies had come down the northbound trail, and before I could even look up, one was right next to me. Before I could move, it started to lick my neck.  I jumped off that rock as if I were spring-loaded.  In the process, I spilled my coffee all over my leg.  Not to miss an opportunity for something tasty, the pony started licking the coffee off my leg.  I wanted to shoo the pony away, especially since his friends were starting to follow him into our campsite. Glen wanted a picture, and I didn't mind, as long as he hurried about it!  After a couple of snapshots, he gently encouraged the ponies to leave.  Realizing they would get nothing else to eat or lick, they went their way.

While uncomfortable at the time, this was one of the most humorous events of that hike, perhaps of all our hikes.

This was the "second take," and I tried to look like I was enjoying it.

I think he was wondering if he could open the backpack!

All Things Ellie Tuesday

Ellie, being a beagle, is a scent hound. 

It is said that beagles have approximately 225 million olfactory receptors, compared to humans' 5 million.  Additionally, they possess a larger olfactory lobe in the brain, enabling them to detect scents at incredibly low concentrations, approximately 10,000 times more sensitive than humans.

This explains what happened Sunday morning.

When we are leaving Ellie alone in the house for a while, we always like to leave her a treat.  Usually, I scatter this on the floor so she has to use those wonderful olfactory receptors to find all her treats.  This is good stimulation for her and keeps her occupied long enough for us to get in the car.

We were preparing to leave for church Sunday morning, and I had placed her bowl with her treats on the counter, along with her dental chew.

This is what I saw when I came back to the kitchen:

I especially loved the sideways look.  I have seen Ellie in action enough, trying to steal food, to know that her long tongue can reach out and capture things I would have thought impossible.

Fortunately, she only had a couple more minutes to wait until everything in the bowl was hers to enjoy!

A Tray of Lasagna

When my youngest daughter says she is going to make a dessert, I know two things about it before I even hear what it is.  I know it will be absolutely delicious and absolutely beautiful. Baking, however, is not just an art; it is science. 

Measurements have to be precise. In fact, the best way to measure ingredients when baking is by weighing them. But if you are going to use measuring cups, it must be a “good measure”.  This means there can be no air pockets in the ingredients, and the ingredients must be level with the brim of the cup, without excess. Too much or too little of an ingredient will change the consistency, texture, and taste of the final product.

Our Lord used this phrase, “good measure,” regarding our giving to others and receiving of good things ourselves:

“Give, and it shall be given unto you; good measure, pressed down and shaken together, and running over, shall men give unto your bosom.  For with the same measure that ye mete withal, it shall be measured to you again,” (Luke 6:38.)

Often, when I read this verse, my mind skips over the word “Give” and flies to the part about receiving.  I think the Lord may have been addressing that attitude as He tells us that “with the same measure that ye mete withal, it shall be measured to you again.” 

If we have trusted in the Lord Jesus, then as we trust Him, He will supply all we need, when we need it, in every situation.  We need not worry about the venue of the supply, He will take care of those details. And His “measure” is always a “good measure,” in fact, a perfect measure.  

Glen and I have seen that in our lives over and over again, and it started from the very beginning our our marriage. I had just graduated from my nursing program, and Glen was still in college. Once, we unexpectedly came to the end of our budget before we reached the end of the week.  We sat down and prayed together, asking the Lord would supply. We told no one about our need.

Within a day, friends called us and asked us to dinner.  And my Mother called. She said a church social she had been preparing for had been canceled.  She had made a large salad and a pan of lasagna.  She knew she and my Dad could not eat it all, and asked if we would come and get it.  We hung up laughing.  Did we want my mother’s lasagna? Uh, YES!  And her salad was legendary.  We had food for the whole week!  The Lord had abundantly provided.

This was an event we often recalled in our marriage.  It bolstered our faith in other times of need.  While we thanked our mothers’ hands for making the food, we knew this provision was from our heavenly Father.

“Now unto him that is able to do 

exceeding abundantly above all that we ask or think, 

according to the power that worketh in us,

Unto Him be glory in the church by Christ Jesus throughout all ages, world without end. Amen,” 

 (Ephesians 3:20,21).

Unseen, Yet Always Working

 

This morning, as is our habit, Ellie and I went outside for a walk.  This always begins with going into the backyard and looking for Percival, the box turtle who lives on our property.  More specifically, who lives behind our kayaks.

If we don't see him immediately when we go there, I will lightly tap on the kayaks and call his name to let him know we are there with his breakfast.  Then I listen.  Often, I can hear him moving to one end or the other. (Box turtles can't move backwards, so sometimes it takes him a minute or two to get to the end of the kayaks.)

Ellie had been sniffing at both ends and even along the ground where the kayaks rest.  I knew from the way she was acting that he was there, but she wasn't going to be satisfied until she could see him.

I could hear him moving, so I knew we would see him soon, but Ellie stood at the end of the kayaks looking between them. Her head turned from one side to the next as if she didn't understand why she didn't see him yet.  Then, finally, he reached the end, and we both could clearly see him.  He walked toward us and was rewarded with his daily food.

This reminded me so much of our walk with the Lord.  We know, by our experience, but more by His Word, that He is involved in every minute of our lives.  Yet, like Ellie, we are perplexed as to why we don't see Him moving in obvious ways.  Or sometimes, we are perplexed as to why we don't see Him moving in the ways we desired or expected.  And yet, He is there.  He is always there.  He is always working in our lives, our circumstances, and even in our spirits to conform us to the image of the Lord Jesus Christ.

So many times, we don't see or hear this working, and we must simply believe it by faith.  Sometimes our "outward man" hurts, feels weak, or, as the Scriptures concisely describe, "perisheth".  Yet, that same verse continues to say, "...yet the inward man is renewed day by day" (2 Corinthians 4:17).

As we go through our days and face moments that prompt us to turn our heads in question, as Ellie did, we must make a conscious choice to turn our faces toward our Lord.  As we choose to trust Him by faith, that He is indeed working in every aspect of our lives, we will growingly be aware that the Lord "effectually worketh also in you that believe" (1 Thessalonians 2:13).

"According as His divine power hath given unto us all things that pertain unto life and godliness, through the knowledge of Him that hath called us to glory and virtue..."

2 Peter 1:3