Today as I leisurely drove home from a trip into town I noted the speed sign, signaled a left turn and went into the left lane. Something about that simple act triggered a flashback.
It was 1959 or 60. I was driving down four lane, Ritchie Highway in Glen Burnie, Maryland. This was in the days before seat belts and car seats for kids. My children, five and three, were seated beside me on the passenger seat. I was driving in the right hand outer lane with a car on my left, and a strip mall was on my right. Suddenly the car on my left did a fast turn in front of me and went into the strip mall. As I jammed on my brakes, I threw my right arm out to protect my children. I was so shocked by the irresponsible driver that I pulled in beside him, stepped out of my car and began screaming at him. "You could have caused me to kill my children"! I think I repeated it a few times, then got back into the car to calm down before continuing my trip.
It is amazing that there are not more car accidents than we now have. Back in the mountains of Kentucky, where I grew up, it was a common event to get behind a big coal truck loaded down with coal and traveling in front of you, over the mountain. At that time when drivers went over the mountain at night it was common practice to blink your bright lights as you approached a curve. This was for your protection as well as for any oncoming traffic on the other side of the curve, which was hidden by the mountain. I did not drive at that time. Our family had one car and it belonged to my father, who used it for work. The older boys had no car until they went to work to earn money to buy their own. There was always an uncertain time element involved when crossing a mountain. If you got behind a coal truck you just had to be patient as they could not quickly shift gears and make any speed when traveling up or down the mountain. The reality was, if you left our little town you had to go over a mountain!
When I was a young bride my husband did all of the driving as I had not yet learned that skill. One winter we were going over White mountain returning home from a visit into West Virginia. The weather was bad and we both had to get home, after the holidays for our teaching jobs. When a road became hazardous the State Patrol would close the road and you simply had to turn around and go back. On that day our car was the last one to cross over into Kentucky. We were young and foolish and the good Lord was surely looking after us. As my husband gripped the steering wheel, I gripped the door handle, all ready to jump out should we start sliding over the mountain. No doubt at that point I was only concentrating on my own safety! We did make it safely home but we learned to plan more carefully on future trips. But remember that we did not have the advantage of weather reports in the late 1940's. You found out what the weather was like when you looked out the window in the morning.
My mother never learned to drive. She was adventurous enough to try at least once to see if she could handle it. It was my father who could not handle it! My oldest sister Katrine, did drive, so my father must have taught her. It fell to her to give my mother her first and only driving lesson. I was a new baby, wrapped in blankets and lying on the back seat of my dad's Ford Model T, on that fateful day. My father's side job was selling milk from his cows. He had a milk truck which my brothers used for deliveries, but for some reason the back floor of the old Ford Model T was covered with empty milk bottles.
I suppose all was going well until my mother got excited and jammed on the brakes. Well, you can guess what happened to me in the back seat when the force of stopping so fast, dislodged me from my resting place and onto the empty milk bottles. I did have a good set of lungs and I used them! That was when the lesson came to an end. Of course my mother had to tell my father what had happened. His reaction had the intended effect. He said not a word to my mother - for four days!
About six years later when baby number eight was around four years old, he was traveling with my third oldest brother on a milk delivery. They had stopped at the commissary to confer with my father about the delivery. The truck was parked facing the edge of a small precipice above a creek. My older brother went into my father's office to ask about the delivery and left my four year old brother in the back of the truck. If he had stayed in the back there would be no story. But it is difficult for a curious four year old to ignore all of those interesting gadgets on the dashboard. So, over the seat he scrambled and began to play drive. Drive he did, forward over the bank and into the creek. The bad part was that in the back were several large metal milk cans filled with milk, one with buttermilk. Of course you can imagine what happened when the caps came off the cans! I suppose my older brother received his punishment in triplicate as he had to clean up the car.
My driving stories would not be complete if I did not tell about me taking my daughter to Stone Mountain State Park in 1970. It was not crowded during the week back then and was a good safe place to learn to drive. All went well until we left the park at the end of the lesson. She drove through the open gates past the guard house and right over the mailbox, knocking it down. She was driving a large car which I had recently bought and it did a good job on the mailbox. I went to the guard and explained, offering to pay for a new mailbox. From his answer I gathered that it was not the first time the mail box took a hit. He said, "Oh don't worry about it."
Looking back at the incident on Ritchie highway, I guess road rage is nothing new, even if it is justified. It remains one of the hazards of driving.
Wednesday, September 5, 2012
Saturday, July 28, 2012
Not Antique, Just Treasured
The Antique Roadshow on public television is probably the most viewed of all the shows on television. When some people come to the roadshow they are rewarded by being told that the item they had purchased because they liked it, is of really great monetary value. I often wonder how many of those people try to capitalize on this new gained knowledge by selling their treasure for profit. Quite often it is a relic which has some significance to their family and they say they will not be selling it. At some point in the future someone else in the family who inherits it may feel differently and be happy to sell the once treasured item.
I have many family connected items which I would never want to exchange for cash. One such thing is an oak doll bed which is around eighty years old. My father had a carpenter make it for me when I was a little girl. My mother held onto it for years and when I established a home of my own, I took it under my roof. Since my first child was a girl, it got some use from her when she was in the doll playing stage. My son had no interest in it when he came along.
Then when my son and daughter came of age to have children and did, the three turned out to be boys, so my grandsons did not make use of the old, oak bed. Before my first grandson came along I gave the bed to my daugher in case she had a daughter. She made some bed covers for it and it sat like that for a long time. This picture shows it all gussied up and sitting among the boy toys.
It must have been put aside for storage and probably forgotten. Then one day my daughter was backing out of her garage and noticed a stack of things which had been set out for garbage collection. Right on the top was the old oak doll bed. She stopped her car, got out, and rescued it from sure destruction. Shortly thereafter she gave it back to me since he expected no little girls to play with it.
It eventually made its way back to me, the original owner and it has been sitting in a rarely used bedroom for at least twenty years. I kept meaning to have the loose leg repaired but as you can see from this picture it has not happened. However that changed. I really had forgotten about it being up there with the broken leg, until a crew of installers came to my house this month. Having workers in your house calls for some rearranging when new windows are being put in all over the house. As I moved some things out of the way I saw this doll bed and brought it down, hoping that someone with a hammer and a willing heart would take pity and repair it.
Just as I had hoped my son-in-aw saw it ( out in full view) and it reminded him that he had said he would repair it "some day". And he did repair it. It is not meant for a one hundred pound dolly, but otherwise is very usable.
This act of kindness on his part was all I needed to motivate me to start sewing on some bed covers for this little doll bed.
I have many family connected items which I would never want to exchange for cash. One such thing is an oak doll bed which is around eighty years old. My father had a carpenter make it for me when I was a little girl. My mother held onto it for years and when I established a home of my own, I took it under my roof. Since my first child was a girl, it got some use from her when she was in the doll playing stage. My son had no interest in it when he came along.
Then when my son and daughter came of age to have children and did, the three turned out to be boys, so my grandsons did not make use of the old, oak bed. Before my first grandson came along I gave the bed to my daugher in case she had a daughter. She made some bed covers for it and it sat like that for a long time. This picture shows it all gussied up and sitting among the boy toys.
It must have been put aside for storage and probably forgotten. Then one day my daughter was backing out of her garage and noticed a stack of things which had been set out for garbage collection. Right on the top was the old oak doll bed. She stopped her car, got out, and rescued it from sure destruction. Shortly thereafter she gave it back to me since he expected no little girls to play with it.
It eventually made its way back to me, the original owner and it has been sitting in a rarely used bedroom for at least twenty years. I kept meaning to have the loose leg repaired but as you can see from this picture it has not happened. However that changed. I really had forgotten about it being up there with the broken leg, until a crew of installers came to my house this month. Having workers in your house calls for some rearranging when new windows are being put in all over the house. As I moved some things out of the way I saw this doll bed and brought it down, hoping that someone with a hammer and a willing heart would take pity and repair it.
Just as I had hoped my son-in-aw saw it ( out in full view) and it reminded him that he had said he would repair it "some day". And he did repair it. It is not meant for a one hundred pound dolly, but otherwise is very usable.
This act of kindness on his part was all I needed to motivate me to start sewing on some bed covers for this little doll bed.
How We Used to Deal With Stress
My niece, who lives in Arizona sent me an email with a lot of pictures about "how it used to be over fifty years ago". One showed a swing on a porch and people grouped around (and in) it. It was a very relaxed scene.
In the 1930's we had a very long swing on our front porch. This swing was painted green. A lot of us could safely sit in it and swing or just sit and talk. Having a swing like that was a real stress reliever. You could swing it out or talk it out. That is only of the things that I believe accounts for us in that time, to not need pills to regulate our stress levels. In fact it was not known that such things were in existence, if in fact they were.
Television had not been invented, and in some homes, no radios, we were forced to find our own entertainment with board games and made up games. We did not have a lot of free time on our hands as everyone in our family had to pitch in to keep things running smoothly.
During my growing up years we did not have super highways to get us to far away places so folks tended to live in the same area most of their lives. We also did not have the kind of cars to travel such highways. Families in small towns led church and school centered lives, where activities kept you close to home and within walking distance of the events. After the ford cars came into production any family who had a ford, just had one car. Not a lot of women could drive - my mother never learned to drive. All of her children did however, as they grew up, moved away, and it became necessary for them to get to work, etc.
People depended upon each other for many things. Families shared chores, as well as crops they grew. Our way of life gradually began to change. I well remember when oleo margarine came into being. It came in a plastic bag with a little capsule inside which was broken and then the color in it was kneaded into white oleo to make it yellow like butter. Because we had cows we always had butter but when we no longer had cows and lived in a small town and no longer on a farm, a lot of things changed, including the switch to oleo.
World War II initiated a movement toward the cities where manufacturing was in full force creating materials needed to fight the war. We gradually were being introduced to newer things, newer situations, newer people and more stress. Technology was not standing still during this upheaval, nor was medical science. As the need arose, the solution was being created to meet it. Life gradually became more stressful and a pill was there to relieve the stress or pain or what ever presented itself. The family unit was being scattered and the comfort which families provided for each other was being scattered also.
Not that there was no stress, just that we had another way of relieving it. When my brother Bill was away during the war and in a far eastern section of the world, he could not tell our mother where he was, as letters were censored. So, before he left they devised a system whereby he could let her know where he was without divulging it to others. Each paragraph in his letters would begin with the first letter of the place where he was, and she could string them together and find on a map, just where he was. This gave her a sense of some control over the situation, thus somewhat relieving the stress of not knowing exactly where he was during the war.
A lot of stress we create for outselves. Living in the time of my childhood there was less to distract you and make you worry. Of cource it could just have been my perception of how it was. But even if my parents were stressed they had no pills for it so an evening spent swinging and looking up at the stars was a nice quiet way to wind down from the day, and no pills were there to help. We had to find natural ways to calm ourselves down.
In the 1930's we had a very long swing on our front porch. This swing was painted green. A lot of us could safely sit in it and swing or just sit and talk. Having a swing like that was a real stress reliever. You could swing it out or talk it out. That is only of the things that I believe accounts for us in that time, to not need pills to regulate our stress levels. In fact it was not known that such things were in existence, if in fact they were.
Television had not been invented, and in some homes, no radios, we were forced to find our own entertainment with board games and made up games. We did not have a lot of free time on our hands as everyone in our family had to pitch in to keep things running smoothly.
During my growing up years we did not have super highways to get us to far away places so folks tended to live in the same area most of their lives. We also did not have the kind of cars to travel such highways. Families in small towns led church and school centered lives, where activities kept you close to home and within walking distance of the events. After the ford cars came into production any family who had a ford, just had one car. Not a lot of women could drive - my mother never learned to drive. All of her children did however, as they grew up, moved away, and it became necessary for them to get to work, etc.
People depended upon each other for many things. Families shared chores, as well as crops they grew. Our way of life gradually began to change. I well remember when oleo margarine came into being. It came in a plastic bag with a little capsule inside which was broken and then the color in it was kneaded into white oleo to make it yellow like butter. Because we had cows we always had butter but when we no longer had cows and lived in a small town and no longer on a farm, a lot of things changed, including the switch to oleo.
World War II initiated a movement toward the cities where manufacturing was in full force creating materials needed to fight the war. We gradually were being introduced to newer things, newer situations, newer people and more stress. Technology was not standing still during this upheaval, nor was medical science. As the need arose, the solution was being created to meet it. Life gradually became more stressful and a pill was there to relieve the stress or pain or what ever presented itself. The family unit was being scattered and the comfort which families provided for each other was being scattered also.
Not that there was no stress, just that we had another way of relieving it. When my brother Bill was away during the war and in a far eastern section of the world, he could not tell our mother where he was, as letters were censored. So, before he left they devised a system whereby he could let her know where he was without divulging it to others. Each paragraph in his letters would begin with the first letter of the place where he was, and she could string them together and find on a map, just where he was. This gave her a sense of some control over the situation, thus somewhat relieving the stress of not knowing exactly where he was during the war.
A lot of stress we create for outselves. Living in the time of my childhood there was less to distract you and make you worry. Of cource it could just have been my perception of how it was. But even if my parents were stressed they had no pills for it so an evening spent swinging and looking up at the stars was a nice quiet way to wind down from the day, and no pills were there to help. We had to find natural ways to calm ourselves down.
Friday, July 20, 2012
Darn Deer
My confidence in gardening has just been shot to - well somewhere!
This morning I found a zillion deer tracks inside my electric fenced area of my raised beds. They really like my tomatoes, but so do I !!!! If they like cucumbers they will not find any in my garden. I know this because I cannot find any either! I did find one about two weeks ago that was about fourteen inches long, and it was put into bread and butter pickles. Now I have a second one that I picked today. I hate to give up on growing this particular type of cucumber as they have thin skins and no seeds to speak of, thus they make great pickles. Years ago I grew them very successfully, but this is the third year that they have failed to produce.
To add insult to injury, it appears that the deer have stripped my Muscadine vines of their grapes, and they have not even ripened yet! I still have two vines which have prize grapes, to me. They are large and purple and taste so wonderful. The deer may be avoiding them because they are in a spot away from the ones along the road. My neighbors are always telling me that they see deer in my vineyard but I cannot see the vines from my house, so I miss a lot of those sightings. A few days ago I did see a doe with her new babies. They still had spots on them, and they did not linger there when they saw my car. It was fun to see but not so much fun that I want to repeat the experience at the expense of my lovely grapes.
So far the deer have not shown a taste for the kiwi. They may have tried them and were put off by the fuzzy skin, so at least I will get something from my garden. And it is little comfort to know they cannot climb the fig tree, since the birds can fly in and consume all they want from the top.
Oh well, there are a few measures I can take, like putting out milorganite where the tomatoes are and next year before grapes appear I can put it around in the vineyard. That has worked in the past around my flowers.
I will probably get no sympathy from my grandsons other grandmother who lives in West Milford, New Jersey. Not only does she have to share with the deer but bears as well. They have come up on her porch and bring their babies over to check out her yard. She takes measures to deter them, like garbage cans with special locks designed to keep out the bears. I think she is pretty brave to even live on that mountain, but she loves the lake that goes with it and it has been her home for too many years to even think of moving to the city.
I have had to adjust to planting flowers and plants which the deer do not like to feed on so I must shift gears and concentrate on growing things other than tomatoes. I have heard that if the deer are hungry enough they will eat anything. If that is true then I must raise the white flag and retreat to indoor hobbies and then perhaps I will look upon them as dear deer and not darn deer.
This morning I found a zillion deer tracks inside my electric fenced area of my raised beds. They really like my tomatoes, but so do I !!!! If they like cucumbers they will not find any in my garden. I know this because I cannot find any either! I did find one about two weeks ago that was about fourteen inches long, and it was put into bread and butter pickles. Now I have a second one that I picked today. I hate to give up on growing this particular type of cucumber as they have thin skins and no seeds to speak of, thus they make great pickles. Years ago I grew them very successfully, but this is the third year that they have failed to produce.
To add insult to injury, it appears that the deer have stripped my Muscadine vines of their grapes, and they have not even ripened yet! I still have two vines which have prize grapes, to me. They are large and purple and taste so wonderful. The deer may be avoiding them because they are in a spot away from the ones along the road. My neighbors are always telling me that they see deer in my vineyard but I cannot see the vines from my house, so I miss a lot of those sightings. A few days ago I did see a doe with her new babies. They still had spots on them, and they did not linger there when they saw my car. It was fun to see but not so much fun that I want to repeat the experience at the expense of my lovely grapes.
So far the deer have not shown a taste for the kiwi. They may have tried them and were put off by the fuzzy skin, so at least I will get something from my garden. And it is little comfort to know they cannot climb the fig tree, since the birds can fly in and consume all they want from the top.
Oh well, there are a few measures I can take, like putting out milorganite where the tomatoes are and next year before grapes appear I can put it around in the vineyard. That has worked in the past around my flowers.
I will probably get no sympathy from my grandsons other grandmother who lives in West Milford, New Jersey. Not only does she have to share with the deer but bears as well. They have come up on her porch and bring their babies over to check out her yard. She takes measures to deter them, like garbage cans with special locks designed to keep out the bears. I think she is pretty brave to even live on that mountain, but she loves the lake that goes with it and it has been her home for too many years to even think of moving to the city.
I have had to adjust to planting flowers and plants which the deer do not like to feed on so I must shift gears and concentrate on growing things other than tomatoes. I have heard that if the deer are hungry enough they will eat anything. If that is true then I must raise the white flag and retreat to indoor hobbies and then perhaps I will look upon them as dear deer and not darn deer.
Tuesday, July 17, 2012
A Poet in Your Pocket
Part of keeping on keeping on is finding constructive ways to spend my time. I have been able to read some very interesting books because my son brought some "loaner" books up to me to enjoy this summer. The one I am reading right now is John Adams by David McCullough.
Something John Adams wrote to his son,John Quincy, while he was away at University caught my attention. He was admonishing John Quincy to keep on with his studies while he had the opportunity and to not forget that the Arts were an important part of a well balanced life also. This is part of what he wrote: "You will never be alone with a poet in your pocket. You will never have an idle hour."
I think writing poetry is something that comes from deep within you. At a very young age I came up with a poem while I was being held up to a window so that I could see outside. It was a two line poem when I was just beginning to talk. I am not inclined to write it here as it had a word in it which is rather crude. I cannot imagine that I was taught to say such things as we were brought up in a strict home where crude language was not tolerated. But the incident tells me that you either have an inclination for writing poetry or you do not.
Many years later I asked my older sister, who was most likely the one who was holding me up to the window, if I really said that. She assured me that indeed I did! So, I must accept that I did, and try to put a good spin on it!!
Growing up I was not formally introduced to poetry and had never given a thought to composing it, nor was I interested in reading it. I will say that I loved the poems of Robert Louis Stevenson. I was intrigued with "A birdie with a yellow bill, hopped upon my window sill, cocked his shining eye and said, "ain't you shamed you sleepy head?" I think I liked the saucy little bird. It was only when I joined the Northeast Georgia Writers Group a few years ago that I first attempted to write a poem. Each year this group of writers, some published, some not, have an annual contest. On the list of categories for entries was poetry. It was then that I decided to try this form of writing.
I decided to do a Limerick. In fact I did four, which all had the theme of misadventure bound within them. I was very surprised when I won first place for these silly poems. This was like encouraging an idiot to keep on being an idiot! So, I have kept on being an idiot and loved doing it.
Since that one bit of encouragement I have branched out and find that writing poetry is a rather fun thing to do. Not everyone will like what I write, but that is expected and acceptable to me. I do it for my own enjoyment. So, with that in mind, I will share some poems I have written, some light hearted, some thoughtful, but they all sprang from within me at different times.
Rain
I awakened to thunder
At first I thought it nature's blunder
I put my feet upon the floor
And quickly opened up the door
Then I saw that all was wet
And knew I did not need to get
My hose and outside shoes
Just go back for another snooze
Balloons
Light, airy, knock them up, send them flying
Find the next one, hit it too, keep the game going
It is only play, we celebrate the birthday, the day, the family
We laugh with carefree abandon,
Tomorrow can wait, today there is joy,
Hugs, kisses,hopes fulfilled,
No need to travel further than this day, this time, this moment
I Can Only Imagine
I can only imagine how it would be
If all I ever could hope to see
Was white upon white
Even at night
Nothing in sight that was colorful, bright
No tulips or roses, daisies or violets blue
Or any other vibrant hue
Or missing the joy of seeking and seeing,
What greenery comes creeping up through
Brown earth and reaching toward sky
Happy reading to you all, whether it is poetry or prose.
Something John Adams wrote to his son,John Quincy, while he was away at University caught my attention. He was admonishing John Quincy to keep on with his studies while he had the opportunity and to not forget that the Arts were an important part of a well balanced life also. This is part of what he wrote: "You will never be alone with a poet in your pocket. You will never have an idle hour."
I think writing poetry is something that comes from deep within you. At a very young age I came up with a poem while I was being held up to a window so that I could see outside. It was a two line poem when I was just beginning to talk. I am not inclined to write it here as it had a word in it which is rather crude. I cannot imagine that I was taught to say such things as we were brought up in a strict home where crude language was not tolerated. But the incident tells me that you either have an inclination for writing poetry or you do not.
Many years later I asked my older sister, who was most likely the one who was holding me up to the window, if I really said that. She assured me that indeed I did! So, I must accept that I did, and try to put a good spin on it!!
Growing up I was not formally introduced to poetry and had never given a thought to composing it, nor was I interested in reading it. I will say that I loved the poems of Robert Louis Stevenson. I was intrigued with "A birdie with a yellow bill, hopped upon my window sill, cocked his shining eye and said, "ain't you shamed you sleepy head?" I think I liked the saucy little bird. It was only when I joined the Northeast Georgia Writers Group a few years ago that I first attempted to write a poem. Each year this group of writers, some published, some not, have an annual contest. On the list of categories for entries was poetry. It was then that I decided to try this form of writing.
I decided to do a Limerick. In fact I did four, which all had the theme of misadventure bound within them. I was very surprised when I won first place for these silly poems. This was like encouraging an idiot to keep on being an idiot! So, I have kept on being an idiot and loved doing it.
Since that one bit of encouragement I have branched out and find that writing poetry is a rather fun thing to do. Not everyone will like what I write, but that is expected and acceptable to me. I do it for my own enjoyment. So, with that in mind, I will share some poems I have written, some light hearted, some thoughtful, but they all sprang from within me at different times.
Rain
I awakened to thunder
At first I thought it nature's blunder
I put my feet upon the floor
And quickly opened up the door
Then I saw that all was wet
And knew I did not need to get
My hose and outside shoes
Just go back for another snooze
Balloons
Light, airy, knock them up, send them flying
Find the next one, hit it too, keep the game going
It is only play, we celebrate the birthday, the day, the family
We laugh with carefree abandon,
Tomorrow can wait, today there is joy,
Hugs, kisses,hopes fulfilled,
No need to travel further than this day, this time, this moment
I Can Only Imagine
I can only imagine how it would be
If all I ever could hope to see
Was white upon white
Even at night
Nothing in sight that was colorful, bright
No tulips or roses, daisies or violets blue
Or any other vibrant hue
Or missing the joy of seeking and seeing,
What greenery comes creeping up through
Brown earth and reaching toward sky
Happy reading to you all, whether it is poetry or prose.
Tuesday, July 10, 2012
Keep On Keeping On
Someone close to me used to say to me when he was leaving, "keep on keeping on". He would also say upon leaving, "be sweet". At the time I did not pay much attention to the words as I heard them often and that is probably why I remember them at all.
With the long hot summer we are experiencing here in the southeastern part of the United States, those words came back to me. When the temperatures outside are unbearable you are forced to find ways to "keep on keeping on".
Mostly it is keeping on indoors. Fortunately my house has new soundproof windows and a newly repaired A/C so it is pleasant to stay indoors all day. I find I can 'keep on' if I can get out in the less hot part of the day-early morning- to check on growing things or turn on the water to water my small garden, blueberry patch or new pecan tree. Jim has made it possible for me to water this way by putting in well placed hoses and sprinklers.
I am now reaping the rewards of that watering by having fresh blueberries and some fine tomatoes, green beans and now slowly arriving burpless cucumbers. Yesterday I made the first batch of bread and butter pickles from those cucumbers which make the best pickles ever. I like to give each batch its own name so this one is "Big C" because one of the cucumbers had grown to over 12 inches!
Having more produce than one person can use allows me to share with my family as things are harvested. Figs will be the next fruit to be ready for picking. They make great jam and are so tasty with milk for breakfast.
Being able to share fresh foods which are God's gift to me allows me to say in my own way "keep on keeping on' and "be sweet".
With the long hot summer we are experiencing here in the southeastern part of the United States, those words came back to me. When the temperatures outside are unbearable you are forced to find ways to "keep on keeping on".
Mostly it is keeping on indoors. Fortunately my house has new soundproof windows and a newly repaired A/C so it is pleasant to stay indoors all day. I find I can 'keep on' if I can get out in the less hot part of the day-early morning- to check on growing things or turn on the water to water my small garden, blueberry patch or new pecan tree. Jim has made it possible for me to water this way by putting in well placed hoses and sprinklers.
I am now reaping the rewards of that watering by having fresh blueberries and some fine tomatoes, green beans and now slowly arriving burpless cucumbers. Yesterday I made the first batch of bread and butter pickles from those cucumbers which make the best pickles ever. I like to give each batch its own name so this one is "Big C" because one of the cucumbers had grown to over 12 inches!
Having more produce than one person can use allows me to share with my family as things are harvested. Figs will be the next fruit to be ready for picking. They make great jam and are so tasty with milk for breakfast.
Being able to share fresh foods which are God's gift to me allows me to say in my own way "keep on keeping on' and "be sweet".
Friday, June 22, 2012
"I know you by name"
If you look in the Bible in the 33rd chapter of Exodus, verse 17, you will find the words that God spoke to Moses in one of their conversations about the plan which God had for Moses. First God told Moses that His presence would be with him in this plan. Then God told Moses that He knew him by name.
That is a powerful statement. It is a lot like saying "I know where you live", in a veiled threat. But God meant it as a reminder that He sanctioned the plan He had for Moses and the people of Israel.
It is pretty awesome to think that God knows you by name. It is comforting and at the same time scary. It means you have a lot to live up to and it is powerful. Can you imagine going all year in a classroom with a teacher who did not know your name? In most classrooms by the second day the children appear, the teacher knows his/her name. In most cases the teacher knew the name before the child entered the door and has prepared a name and attached it to the child's desk. It is a good plan and establishes where the child will be "living" that school year and it establishes boundaries that all can identify. In much the same way, God knew you before you appeared.
But getting back to God knowing your name, it is a good thought to keep with you as you go through a difficult time. "Robert, (or Alice or Sam)this is a hard thing you are experiencing right now but remember that you do not have to go it alone, I am present with you, and I know your name." God is there in many ways, sending help in human form, or in ways you may never realize.
If life is especially hard for you right now, focus on God's presence being with you. It is a powerful thing to experience God's presence, to know that He knows your name.
That is a powerful statement. It is a lot like saying "I know where you live", in a veiled threat. But God meant it as a reminder that He sanctioned the plan He had for Moses and the people of Israel.
It is pretty awesome to think that God knows you by name. It is comforting and at the same time scary. It means you have a lot to live up to and it is powerful. Can you imagine going all year in a classroom with a teacher who did not know your name? In most classrooms by the second day the children appear, the teacher knows his/her name. In most cases the teacher knew the name before the child entered the door and has prepared a name and attached it to the child's desk. It is a good plan and establishes where the child will be "living" that school year and it establishes boundaries that all can identify. In much the same way, God knew you before you appeared.
But getting back to God knowing your name, it is a good thought to keep with you as you go through a difficult time. "Robert, (or Alice or Sam)this is a hard thing you are experiencing right now but remember that you do not have to go it alone, I am present with you, and I know your name." God is there in many ways, sending help in human form, or in ways you may never realize.
If life is especially hard for you right now, focus on God's presence being with you. It is a powerful thing to experience God's presence, to know that He knows your name.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)