Thursday, April 4, 2013
I Taut I Taw a Puddy Tat
I think my husband is a glutton for punishment. He bought three baby guineas last week, and one of them has already left for guinea heaven. In the first place, they were just hatched, so they were extremely small. We were keeping them in a cardboard box under a lamp, but with the cold, wet, weather we have been having, I was worried about their getting chilled.
Then a few days ago, our son, who has been a little skeptical about our poultry projects, calls and tells us he has bought 75 baby chicks! The farm store made him an offer he couldn't refuse--$1 apiece. (Our guineas were $6.99 each.) We saw that Greg had made a cozy place for the chicks from a round, metal stock tank with wood shavings on the floor and a heat light, all inside a farm building.
We thought our two remaining "keets" might like it there better and stay warmer with all that downy fluff around them. And they seem to have adjusted well! Frail and timid at first, they now run energetically with the golden horde, although the two of them stick together.
But horror of horrors! The other evening Greg was checking on them and found the cat behind the shed with a chick in its mouth! Somehow it had breached the pen and got into the round stock tank, which must have seemed like the biggest bird nest it had ever seen! With so many chicks, they are impossible to count, so there is no telling how many chicken dinners the furry feline enjoyed.
The pen has been secured and the flock has been safe the past few nights, so today Howard went to the farm store where they replaced the keet that had died, plus he bought an additional one! (We are making sure to feed the cat plenty of food from the can.) We put the new keets in with the mixed flock, and at first the little strangers were scared and shy, but before we knew it, one of the "old" baby guineas came over and made them welcome! Now the four of them hang together as birds of a feather.
Hopefully, there won't be any more farm casualties! I don't know if my husband was cut out to be a farmer or not, but I'm beginning to think I wasn't cut out to be a farmer's wife!
Wednesday, April 3, 2013
What's it Worth?
"Did you see my good box?" little Maddie said excitedly to her au pair who had just come back from her week-end away, holding it up for her to see. I had suggested Maddie show her birthday presents to her, and she picked up the first thing she saw. Actually, it was a Minnie Mouse-shaped box with the Disney character on it that I had picked up as an afterthought as too cute to pass up, to go with the other gifts I had brought her.
Never mind that Maddie had received mounds of valuable presents, including a bicycle, play kitchen and party gifts, all of which she loved, my box was right up there on her list! At her age, what something costs (50cents on sale), doesn't figure in the joy she gets from it.
My husband and I were talking about "intrinsic value" the other day--the worth of something, monetary value not withstanding. A house may bring a certain price on the real estate market, but the intrinsic value of a home that has sheltered a family and is the depository of memories is incalculable!
Just this morning Howard was saying to me, "You've got to watch this program I just saw! It will make you realize who you are in Christ!" He had arisen early and turned on his favorite television minister and received added insight he couldn't wait to share with me (after he got another forty winks, anyway).
It's true. The Bible says in Matthew 16:26, "For what is a man profited, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul? or what shall a man give in exchange for his soul?" The human body is made up of 54 elements, worth about $160 by some estimates, but the value of the soul, or eternal spirit, is inestimable!
Cost of birthday trip:
New tire for car......................................$100
Gasoline for 500 mile round trip..........$150
Food.......................................................$ 50
Birthday presents..................................$ 20
Time with grandchildren and Maddie's expression...................................Priceless
Some say the value of something is determined by what you are willing to pay for it. Jesus considered us so valuable that He died for us to have the gift of eternal life. He paid it all. All we have to do is receive it, just as our 4-year-old granddaughter received her birthday gifts. Jesus came all the way from heaven to deliver it.
Never mind that Maddie had received mounds of valuable presents, including a bicycle, play kitchen and party gifts, all of which she loved, my box was right up there on her list! At her age, what something costs (50cents on sale), doesn't figure in the joy she gets from it.
My husband and I were talking about "intrinsic value" the other day--the worth of something, monetary value not withstanding. A house may bring a certain price on the real estate market, but the intrinsic value of a home that has sheltered a family and is the depository of memories is incalculable!
Just this morning Howard was saying to me, "You've got to watch this program I just saw! It will make you realize who you are in Christ!" He had arisen early and turned on his favorite television minister and received added insight he couldn't wait to share with me (after he got another forty winks, anyway).
It's true. The Bible says in Matthew 16:26, "For what is a man profited, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul? or what shall a man give in exchange for his soul?" The human body is made up of 54 elements, worth about $160 by some estimates, but the value of the soul, or eternal spirit, is inestimable!
Cost of birthday trip:
New tire for car......................................$100
Gasoline for 500 mile round trip..........$150
Food.......................................................$ 50
Birthday presents..................................$ 20
Time with grandchildren and Maddie's expression...................................Priceless
Some say the value of something is determined by what you are willing to pay for it. Jesus considered us so valuable that He died for us to have the gift of eternal life. He paid it all. All we have to do is receive it, just as our 4-year-old granddaughter received her birthday gifts. Jesus came all the way from heaven to deliver it.
Tuesday, April 2, 2013
TOUR DE FORCE
"What?" I groaned when Howard woke me and said we had to be ready at 8:30 in the morning to go to the Port of Houston for a boat tour! He had sat up late talking with our son Jamie on this first night of our visit and mentioned he'd like to do something like that, and it had been arranged! Well, I was sure all would oversleep in the morning, so I wasn't too concerned. How would we get two little ones and ourselves up, dressed and ready to leave by that time?
"We aren't really going on a boat tour this morning, are we?" I asked Jamie as I walked sleepily into the living room when I heard him up. When he said we were, I protested, "But it's so early!" to which he replied, "Well, you're up, aren't you?"
And to my surprise, I was, and feeling refreshed at that. "All I have to do for the girls is put them in the car," my SAHD son said, in his masculine way of parenting. I hurried my routine, saw him run a brush through their hair and we were on our way shortly, getting breakfast at the drive-through of Chick-Fil-A.
I was dreading an industrial-looking, unappealing waterfront, but after nearly an hour of interstate driving, wending our way through commercial and industrial areas, we at last turned off into a parklike setting with brick walkways, blooming trees with birds flitting through them and a brick-paved plaza. Lots of people, including kids on field trips this Spring break, were gathering in front of the tour boat. Turns out we got the last five seats on the vessel with a 50 passenger maximum.
What a pleasant surprise! The weather was Houston-warm-and-gorgeous, and the sky was blue with fluffy white clouds. We'd left the winter back in Oklahoma! The boat itself was very nice, with nautical wood paneled interior, comfortable padded benches and seats all around, and wide glass windows from which we could see the narrow deck and railing around the boat where some were walking or sightseeing. After a brief announcement of rules and safety regulations, all were allowed to go outside and to the front of the boat for a better view.
The great ships were impressive in their massiveness as they sat at the docks awaiting loading or unloading of their cargo! Names of foreign countries were emblazoned on their sides. Names like, ITALY, SWEDEN, ISRAEL, MEXICO, VENZUELA, and our own UNITED STATES OF AMERICA, all with their flags proudly flying. Several splendid gray liners--government ships, our son said, were manned by merchant marines and could be deployed with three days notice to any trouble spot in the world.
Now and then a sturdy little tugboat, rimmed with rubber tires for resilience, would pass us, ready for its work of nudging the big ships into position for docking, debarking or embarking. The word, TUG, was painted at strategic spots on the ships' hulls indicating contact points.
"Look, Anne-Marie," I exclaimed to my six-year-old grandddaughter, "a pelican!" She laughed when I taught her the rhyme, "A funny bird is the pelican, His beak can hold more than his belly can," doggrel by Ogden Nash. Gulls and other seabirds soared overhead, glistening in the spring sunshine.
Our jaunt was several miles long, taking 90 minutes for the round trip. We were informed that it was yet another 50 miles to the open waters of the Gulf of Mexico, but we felt like we had been sea borne all morning.
I thought of the Bible verses, "They that go down to the sea in ships, that do business in great waters; These see the works of the Lord, and his wonders in the deep," Psalm 107:23, 24.
And again, of the boats that were ever on the alert for a dispatch to anywhere in the world with only a three-day notice. Our angels are dispatched instantly when sent by God if we are in peril, "...sent forth to minister for them who shall be heirs of salvation," Hebrews 1:14, and in Psalm 91:11, "For he shall give his angels charge over thee, to keep thee in all they ways." Kind of like the busy tugboats! I was so glad we had taken the cruise!
"We aren't really going on a boat tour this morning, are we?" I asked Jamie as I walked sleepily into the living room when I heard him up. When he said we were, I protested, "But it's so early!" to which he replied, "Well, you're up, aren't you?"
And to my surprise, I was, and feeling refreshed at that. "All I have to do for the girls is put them in the car," my SAHD son said, in his masculine way of parenting. I hurried my routine, saw him run a brush through their hair and we were on our way shortly, getting breakfast at the drive-through of Chick-Fil-A.
I was dreading an industrial-looking, unappealing waterfront, but after nearly an hour of interstate driving, wending our way through commercial and industrial areas, we at last turned off into a parklike setting with brick walkways, blooming trees with birds flitting through them and a brick-paved plaza. Lots of people, including kids on field trips this Spring break, were gathering in front of the tour boat. Turns out we got the last five seats on the vessel with a 50 passenger maximum.
What a pleasant surprise! The weather was Houston-warm-and-gorgeous, and the sky was blue with fluffy white clouds. We'd left the winter back in Oklahoma! The boat itself was very nice, with nautical wood paneled interior, comfortable padded benches and seats all around, and wide glass windows from which we could see the narrow deck and railing around the boat where some were walking or sightseeing. After a brief announcement of rules and safety regulations, all were allowed to go outside and to the front of the boat for a better view.
The great ships were impressive in their massiveness as they sat at the docks awaiting loading or unloading of their cargo! Names of foreign countries were emblazoned on their sides. Names like, ITALY, SWEDEN, ISRAEL, MEXICO, VENZUELA, and our own UNITED STATES OF AMERICA, all with their flags proudly flying. Several splendid gray liners--government ships, our son said, were manned by merchant marines and could be deployed with three days notice to any trouble spot in the world.
Now and then a sturdy little tugboat, rimmed with rubber tires for resilience, would pass us, ready for its work of nudging the big ships into position for docking, debarking or embarking. The word, TUG, was painted at strategic spots on the ships' hulls indicating contact points.
"Look, Anne-Marie," I exclaimed to my six-year-old grandddaughter, "a pelican!" She laughed when I taught her the rhyme, "A funny bird is the pelican, His beak can hold more than his belly can," doggrel by Ogden Nash. Gulls and other seabirds soared overhead, glistening in the spring sunshine.
Our jaunt was several miles long, taking 90 minutes for the round trip. We were informed that it was yet another 50 miles to the open waters of the Gulf of Mexico, but we felt like we had been sea borne all morning.
I thought of the Bible verses, "They that go down to the sea in ships, that do business in great waters; These see the works of the Lord, and his wonders in the deep," Psalm 107:23, 24.
And again, of the boats that were ever on the alert for a dispatch to anywhere in the world with only a three-day notice. Our angels are dispatched instantly when sent by God if we are in peril, "...sent forth to minister for them who shall be heirs of salvation," Hebrews 1:14, and in Psalm 91:11, "For he shall give his angels charge over thee, to keep thee in all they ways." Kind of like the busy tugboats! I was so glad we had taken the cruise!
Monday, April 1, 2013
Happy Easter
"Do you want a trophy?" my granddaughter, Allison, asked me in an aside as she tallied the winners of her Easter egg hunt event. "Did I win one?" I asked, and she nodded. I guess she was checking the level of my participation enthusiasm. This grown-up granddaughter could have a career as an event planner, I thought. She had thrown this extravaganza for young and old alike on the family farm property.
It had been a perfect Easter Sunday (Resurrection Day, I like to call it) with a packed-out congregation stuffed into our little church that morning, what with visiting families of the members and those who somehow manage to make it to church at Easter (or Christmas) if at no other time, and a moving message by our recently bereaved pastor. Hearts were touched when he mentioned his late wife and our dear friend from time to time, as he is understandably apt to do these days.
We were out in plenty of time for me to pick up the food I had made to take to our son's house to add to their family feast. Why can menus and food prep be so fraught with doubt and vacillation for me? I had planned to get a turkey breast to supplement my daughter-in-law's ham dinner, then reconsidered and made a hen with dumplings. I had stewed and de-boned the chicken the night before, planning to add the dumplings in the morning and take them to her house in a crockpot set on warm until lunch time.
Panic set in when the crockpot was not where it was supposed to be. No amount of searching revealed it, but it was probably stored in the basement from our move last summer! I had undercooked the dumplings a little to finish in the crockpot, and now it was time for church with my plans foiled. They went into the fridge to be rewarmed on site, and thankfully, they were just right!
After adding cubed fresh pineapple to cottage cheese, I looked online and found you were only supposed to use cooked or canned pineapple for that! My strawberries I had cut up and sugared to set overnight looked soggy and pale! And the shortcakes I had baked tasted disappointedly like biscuits. Oh well, maybe it was just my dulled sense of taste that didn't let me relish the meal, but I did relish the fellowship!
The picture-perfect event in the country followed. Children were scattered like bright little blooms on the deep green, new grass slope where Allison had set up a kids' egg hunt. Doting parents hovered over the smaller tots and their baskets, enjoying it as much as the kids. This was a farm outing for them, made perfect by viewing the small horde of new chicks in the shed and peering at the eggs in the nests of our white leghorns.
Then while the kids went on a hayride conducted by our son, the adults were ushered down the hill for the "Extreme Egg Hunt." My husband and I tagged along, then I got into the spirit of the game when I spotted a bright egg at the base of a gnarled old tree. Most of the young adults had swarmed to the other side of the hill, so I garnered a basket of eggs in no time as one led to another. Thus my trophy for fourth place!
The day culminated as we watched the final episode of The Bible mini-series later that night. Though I couldn't watch the crucifixion part, the portrayal of Paul and the other apostles was riveting. I was moved to tears at the realization of their steadfastness and zeal in spreading the gospel, despite horrible persecution and martyrs' deaths. The faithful presence of Jesus was apparent several times in cinematic depiction, stretching the imagination to comprehend the reality of what actually happened.
Paul's concluding declaration as recorded in II Timothy 4:7 is, "I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith: (8) Henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous judge, shall give me at that day: and not to me only, but unto all them also that love his appearing." The best trophy of all!
It had been a perfect Easter Sunday (Resurrection Day, I like to call it) with a packed-out congregation stuffed into our little church that morning, what with visiting families of the members and those who somehow manage to make it to church at Easter (or Christmas) if at no other time, and a moving message by our recently bereaved pastor. Hearts were touched when he mentioned his late wife and our dear friend from time to time, as he is understandably apt to do these days.
We were out in plenty of time for me to pick up the food I had made to take to our son's house to add to their family feast. Why can menus and food prep be so fraught with doubt and vacillation for me? I had planned to get a turkey breast to supplement my daughter-in-law's ham dinner, then reconsidered and made a hen with dumplings. I had stewed and de-boned the chicken the night before, planning to add the dumplings in the morning and take them to her house in a crockpot set on warm until lunch time.
Panic set in when the crockpot was not where it was supposed to be. No amount of searching revealed it, but it was probably stored in the basement from our move last summer! I had undercooked the dumplings a little to finish in the crockpot, and now it was time for church with my plans foiled. They went into the fridge to be rewarmed on site, and thankfully, they were just right!
After adding cubed fresh pineapple to cottage cheese, I looked online and found you were only supposed to use cooked or canned pineapple for that! My strawberries I had cut up and sugared to set overnight looked soggy and pale! And the shortcakes I had baked tasted disappointedly like biscuits. Oh well, maybe it was just my dulled sense of taste that didn't let me relish the meal, but I did relish the fellowship!
The picture-perfect event in the country followed. Children were scattered like bright little blooms on the deep green, new grass slope where Allison had set up a kids' egg hunt. Doting parents hovered over the smaller tots and their baskets, enjoying it as much as the kids. This was a farm outing for them, made perfect by viewing the small horde of new chicks in the shed and peering at the eggs in the nests of our white leghorns.
Then while the kids went on a hayride conducted by our son, the adults were ushered down the hill for the "Extreme Egg Hunt." My husband and I tagged along, then I got into the spirit of the game when I spotted a bright egg at the base of a gnarled old tree. Most of the young adults had swarmed to the other side of the hill, so I garnered a basket of eggs in no time as one led to another. Thus my trophy for fourth place!
The day culminated as we watched the final episode of The Bible mini-series later that night. Though I couldn't watch the crucifixion part, the portrayal of Paul and the other apostles was riveting. I was moved to tears at the realization of their steadfastness and zeal in spreading the gospel, despite horrible persecution and martyrs' deaths. The faithful presence of Jesus was apparent several times in cinematic depiction, stretching the imagination to comprehend the reality of what actually happened.
Paul's concluding declaration as recorded in II Timothy 4:7 is, "I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith: (8) Henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous judge, shall give me at that day: and not to me only, but unto all them also that love his appearing." The best trophy of all!
Saturday, March 30, 2013
The Journey is Part of the Gift
Recently I wrote a blog about lady bugs and how my little granddaughter, Maddie, likes them. Then a few days ago I received some glossy sales brochures from department stores, and while idly glancing through them, my eyes fastened on a couple of dresses that would be perfect for Maddie and her 6-year-old sister we'd just seen in Houston.
The dresses were a big gingham red-and-white-check with red grosgrain ribbon bows anchoring shoulder straps of ribbon ruching, and they had a giant lady bug appliqued on the front amid white and yellow felt daisies! A little summery for here, but not in Houston. I couldn't wait to go to the store and pick them up.
I didn't immediately see them on the racks, only a close facsimile of crinkled blue-checked cotton, but I wanted the one in the ad in sizes 4 and 6. A clerk found them for me in a Toddler 4 and a 6X. Would that work? I couldn't remember precisely what their mother told me their sizes were. I got them anyway.
Then, examining the little frocks in the car, I thought Maddie's seemed a little short. (She is shooting up and getting leggy like her sister--they take after their mom.) Then I undid the sashes, and the A-line dresses looked wide! Actually, that would probably be okay for sturdy Maddie, but Anne-Marie is willowy! I vacillated between returning the dressses or going ahead and sending them to the girls.
I mailed them the next day, figuring it would take a few days for them to get there. Only two days later I received a text and picture showing the children holding the dresses up for the camera with the words, "We love the dresses! Thank you, Mimi!" Wow! So fast! At first the pictures looked as if they were wearing the dresses, so I was relieved they fit, but then I saw they were only holding the clothes in front of them.
When their father called a few days later, I asked him if the dresses had fit or if they had tried them on yet. "They wore them to church Sunday!" he exclaimed. I was pleasantly surprised, especially since it was still quite cool here. "Well, it was a little cool here, too, so they wore jackets and leggings with them," he admitted. With the little black leggings underneath, they probably looked more like lady bugs than ever! Hopefully, they will do a video or skype with me soon, so I can see my Lady Bugs for myself!
The dresses were a big gingham red-and-white-check with red grosgrain ribbon bows anchoring shoulder straps of ribbon ruching, and they had a giant lady bug appliqued on the front amid white and yellow felt daisies! A little summery for here, but not in Houston. I couldn't wait to go to the store and pick them up.
I didn't immediately see them on the racks, only a close facsimile of crinkled blue-checked cotton, but I wanted the one in the ad in sizes 4 and 6. A clerk found them for me in a Toddler 4 and a 6X. Would that work? I couldn't remember precisely what their mother told me their sizes were. I got them anyway.
Then, examining the little frocks in the car, I thought Maddie's seemed a little short. (She is shooting up and getting leggy like her sister--they take after their mom.) Then I undid the sashes, and the A-line dresses looked wide! Actually, that would probably be okay for sturdy Maddie, but Anne-Marie is willowy! I vacillated between returning the dressses or going ahead and sending them to the girls.
I mailed them the next day, figuring it would take a few days for them to get there. Only two days later I received a text and picture showing the children holding the dresses up for the camera with the words, "We love the dresses! Thank you, Mimi!" Wow! So fast! At first the pictures looked as if they were wearing the dresses, so I was relieved they fit, but then I saw they were only holding the clothes in front of them.
When their father called a few days later, I asked him if the dresses had fit or if they had tried them on yet. "They wore them to church Sunday!" he exclaimed. I was pleasantly surprised, especially since it was still quite cool here. "Well, it was a little cool here, too, so they wore jackets and leggings with them," he admitted. With the little black leggings underneath, they probably looked more like lady bugs than ever! Hopefully, they will do a video or skype with me soon, so I can see my Lady Bugs for myself!
Friday, March 29, 2013
Not Just an Ordinary Day
What a wonderful day it had been! Our Sunday began with Howard and I accompanying our son Jamie to the Chinese church where he is youth pastor. He led marvelous songs in worship while seated at the keyboard, then preached an amazing sermon, sometimes calling a Chinese youth or two to the platform as a "volunteer" to help illustrate a point. The warm relationship they shared was obvious in their shy smiles and willingness to participate.
We joined the rest of the family, including Jamie's wife Tammy and her folks, at their home church in time for the second service. I was touched by worship songs that were new to me, then was challenged by a missions report of a ministry trip to Argentina by the church young people. After a lengthy body-ministry session to scores of altar responders, the order of the service was changed for Jamie's ministry credentialing ceremony. Although he is already serving as a minister, this was a formal licensing procedure we had come to witness.
I really didn't know what to expect, except the presentation of the license, but it was so much more than that! We were so proud of our son, dressed up (for him) in a new white shirt and tie bought especially for the occasion, sitting modestly and properly humbled by the elders' words of appreciation and affirmation to him.
After the formal presentation of the certificate signed by church authorities, people who might have a word from the Lord for Jamie or their own expressions toward him were invited to form a line down the aisle, come forward and speak the words to him. Suffice it to say, I smiled through tears as I heard many comments and prophecies bestowed upon him that warmed and agreed with this mother's heart. I was so glad we were able to be present, although we had no idea it would be anything this meaningful.
Finally, we piled into three cars and set out for a celebratory lunch in one of Houston's best restaurants, courtesy of Tammy's parents. It was also our little granddaughter Maddie's fourth birthday on that St. Patrick's day, so we were a merry bunch, especially as we watched the children's glee at pre-dinner entertainment of a balloon artist forming a lady bug for Maddie and a princess for Anne-Marie at the table.
Relaxing at last in their mini-van on the way home, I sat by Maddie in her car seat with Anne-Marie in the back on her booster seat. Tammy drove behind us with the family car. Howard sat in front with Jamie. Suddenly I was aware of Jamie calling out "Jesus! Jesus! Jesus!" I looked up just in time to brace myself as the dark form of an automobile coming straight at us filled my view. Oddly, the impact wasn't as bad as I feared, although he had hit us broadside. We screeched to a halt under an underpass, while Jamie leaped out. The other driver went on, stopped and inspected his vehicle, then disappeared.
I thought to myself that Satan wasn't happy about our victorious morning. I also realized angels had cushioned what had been a glancing blow, damaging the driver's and passenger doors, but what could have been so much worse. No one was hurt, for which we thanked God! "For He shall give his angels charge over thee, to keep thee in all thy ways. They shall bear thee up in their hands, lest thou dash thy foot against a stone," Psalms 91:11, 12.
We joined the rest of the family, including Jamie's wife Tammy and her folks, at their home church in time for the second service. I was touched by worship songs that were new to me, then was challenged by a missions report of a ministry trip to Argentina by the church young people. After a lengthy body-ministry session to scores of altar responders, the order of the service was changed for Jamie's ministry credentialing ceremony. Although he is already serving as a minister, this was a formal licensing procedure we had come to witness.
I really didn't know what to expect, except the presentation of the license, but it was so much more than that! We were so proud of our son, dressed up (for him) in a new white shirt and tie bought especially for the occasion, sitting modestly and properly humbled by the elders' words of appreciation and affirmation to him.
After the formal presentation of the certificate signed by church authorities, people who might have a word from the Lord for Jamie or their own expressions toward him were invited to form a line down the aisle, come forward and speak the words to him. Suffice it to say, I smiled through tears as I heard many comments and prophecies bestowed upon him that warmed and agreed with this mother's heart. I was so glad we were able to be present, although we had no idea it would be anything this meaningful.
Finally, we piled into three cars and set out for a celebratory lunch in one of Houston's best restaurants, courtesy of Tammy's parents. It was also our little granddaughter Maddie's fourth birthday on that St. Patrick's day, so we were a merry bunch, especially as we watched the children's glee at pre-dinner entertainment of a balloon artist forming a lady bug for Maddie and a princess for Anne-Marie at the table.
Relaxing at last in their mini-van on the way home, I sat by Maddie in her car seat with Anne-Marie in the back on her booster seat. Tammy drove behind us with the family car. Howard sat in front with Jamie. Suddenly I was aware of Jamie calling out "Jesus! Jesus! Jesus!" I looked up just in time to brace myself as the dark form of an automobile coming straight at us filled my view. Oddly, the impact wasn't as bad as I feared, although he had hit us broadside. We screeched to a halt under an underpass, while Jamie leaped out. The other driver went on, stopped and inspected his vehicle, then disappeared.
I thought to myself that Satan wasn't happy about our victorious morning. I also realized angels had cushioned what had been a glancing blow, damaging the driver's and passenger doors, but what could have been so much worse. No one was hurt, for which we thanked God! "For He shall give his angels charge over thee, to keep thee in all thy ways. They shall bear thee up in their hands, lest thou dash thy foot against a stone," Psalms 91:11, 12.
Welcome Mat
"It's locked!" I exclaimed to my husband as I stood outside the door of our son's house, wearing my robe and pajamas and holding the clothes we had gotten out of the car. We had taken an overnight bag in last night, but left our hanging clothes in the car. Howard, coming up with a shirt on a hanger, tried the door to no avail.
"Let's ring the doorbell!" I suggested, seeing a button on the garage wall. We hated to wake our daughter-in-law, though, and our son, Trevor, had told us last night he would leave early to drop our grandson Kyle at the TSA (Texas Soaring Association) for a day of work at the field where an area meeting was to be held that day. "Surely Trevor will be back soon," I said, hopefully.
Just then I glimpsed the top of his SUV that was visible in the distance moving along the road leading to the neighborhood. "I see him!" I announced, though Howard didn't think so, since the car had disappeared from view. In a few minutes Trevor pulled in looking at us quizically. "I was about to ring the doorbell," I said, as he walked up. He said that wasn't the doorbell, it was the alarm system, and he didn't have his key, either. He went to the front door and managed to get in. Our sweet son then made us a wonderful breakfast while we got dressed.
We had had a great time with them the day before when we had stopped by their house on the way to Houston. We had spent the afternoon at the flying field watching Kyle in his volunteer duties: holding a glider wing and running until it was lifted by the tow plane, conferring with other soaring enthusiasts, and waiting his turn to go up. What a peaceful place! A few clouds were floating marshmallow-like in a soft-blue sky, the only sound the motor of the tow plane and the wisk of the breeze as the planes glided noiselessly above.
After awhile, we went inside the "club house," a fifties era A-frame that housed the office, a lounge and snack bar. "How much are the cookies?" Howard asked, eyeing tantalizing rows of them under a plastic cover. The attendant, a motherly type who cooked for the flyers, answered, "You're welcome." He repeated the question, to which she again replied, "You're welcome!" Then he smiled as he realized they were free and got one for himself and one for me, too.
Now we were about to resume our trip to our son Jamie's house and left this family to enjoy the rest of their spring break, knowing that on our way back we could stop there again for an overnight stay, confident of finding no locked door, but of being met only with "You're welcome!"
"Let's ring the doorbell!" I suggested, seeing a button on the garage wall. We hated to wake our daughter-in-law, though, and our son, Trevor, had told us last night he would leave early to drop our grandson Kyle at the TSA (Texas Soaring Association) for a day of work at the field where an area meeting was to be held that day. "Surely Trevor will be back soon," I said, hopefully.
Just then I glimpsed the top of his SUV that was visible in the distance moving along the road leading to the neighborhood. "I see him!" I announced, though Howard didn't think so, since the car had disappeared from view. In a few minutes Trevor pulled in looking at us quizically. "I was about to ring the doorbell," I said, as he walked up. He said that wasn't the doorbell, it was the alarm system, and he didn't have his key, either. He went to the front door and managed to get in. Our sweet son then made us a wonderful breakfast while we got dressed.
We had had a great time with them the day before when we had stopped by their house on the way to Houston. We had spent the afternoon at the flying field watching Kyle in his volunteer duties: holding a glider wing and running until it was lifted by the tow plane, conferring with other soaring enthusiasts, and waiting his turn to go up. What a peaceful place! A few clouds were floating marshmallow-like in a soft-blue sky, the only sound the motor of the tow plane and the wisk of the breeze as the planes glided noiselessly above.
After awhile, we went inside the "club house," a fifties era A-frame that housed the office, a lounge and snack bar. "How much are the cookies?" Howard asked, eyeing tantalizing rows of them under a plastic cover. The attendant, a motherly type who cooked for the flyers, answered, "You're welcome." He repeated the question, to which she again replied, "You're welcome!" Then he smiled as he realized they were free and got one for himself and one for me, too.
Now we were about to resume our trip to our son Jamie's house and left this family to enjoy the rest of their spring break, knowing that on our way back we could stop there again for an overnight stay, confident of finding no locked door, but of being met only with "You're welcome!"
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