"Oh, Howard! We forgot to bring our Cracker Barrel gift certificate," I exclaimed on our way to visit family in Texas. I bemoaned the fact that we could have used it on this trip. Not finding the sheet of paper that my grandson had printed off on his computer, I guessed I had left it in another purse.
"Well, we could have Jamie print another one," I mused. "I already deleted it on the computer, because Adam had printed it for me. But since it went to 'Trash,' I think I can retrieve it," I finished hopefully.
A busy five days followed, during which we enjoyed our grandchildren, met Jamie for lunch a few times, and bravely set out on forays exploring the shops and area on our own, not to mention going to church, and eating delicious meals at their house.
The morning we were to leave, our son suggested we all go to breakfast on our way out of town. "Do you still want me to print out that certificate?" Jamie asked me. I was glad he hadn't forgotten about it and told him to go ahead. He asked my password and went through the process, but he said he couldn't find it. Then I told him it was in "Trash," and he said it was probably lost, because they are only kept about a week in that file. Sure enough, it had been discarded.
"I'll call Amy and see if she can give me any information on it," Jamie offered. After all, my daughter was the one who sent me the electronic restaurant card for Mother's Day in the first place. Amy said she would try to recover the info and call him back. Meanwhile, I told Jamie that I would probably be able to find it at home, and we could use it another time. He said he wouldn't look any further, since that was the case.
Just then the phone rang. Amy had found her order. In a few minutes, Jamie walked out of his office with the elusive paper in his hand, and, giving it to me, said, "Let's go eat." When I asked where we were going, he said, "Cracker Barrel, I hope!" Since he has Fridays off, we had a wonderful breakfast with him and the grandchildren.
They say that nothing is ever really lost on the internet. And that may be a good or bad thing. Our paper trail is really an electronic trail. Jesus keeps records, too. There is an important piece of paper, so to speak, a page in what the Bible calls the Book of Life. That is where our name is recorded if we have trusted Jesus as our Savior.
"And I entreat thee also, true yokefellow, help those women which laboured with me in the gospel, with Clement also, and with other my fellowlabourers, whose names are written in the book of life," Philippians 4:2.
Revelation 20:12, "And I saw the dead, small and great, stand before God; and the books were opened: and another book was opened, which is the book of life: and the dead were judged out of those things which were written in the books, according to their works."
"And whosoever was not found written in the book of life was cast into the lake of fire," Revelation 20:15.
The Bible also speaks in many places of names blotted out from the book of life, such as in Exodus 32:32-33. But Revelation 3:5 assures us, "He that overcometh, the same shall be clothed in white raiment; and I will not blot out his name out of the of the book of life, but I will confess his name before my Father, and before his angels."
That is a record that cannot be lost or misplaced!
Monday, June 8, 2015
Thursday, June 4, 2015
Lost and Found.
"What is he saying?" I wondered aloud, as the man collecting the carts at Walmart waved to us and tried to get our attention. Then I saw a beige purse in his hand. My purse! I must have left it in the cart!
"Howard, why didn't you check the cart?" I exclaimed. To avoid lugging a heavy purse, I often place it in the baby-seat section of the buggy, then if I forget it, my husband will notice it before he puts the cart away.
I took the purse from the man, then on a closer look, I realized it wasn't my purse at all! The color and shape had fooled me. My purse was at my feet! I got the man's attention and told him I'd made a mistake, to which he replied, "Well, I'll just take it inside then." (My husband reminded me that I was the one who had emptied the cart. Touche'!)
Nothing makes me more panicky than to think I have lost or left my purse somewhere. Besides the fact that it contains important cards and Iphone, the feeling of being violated as someone is looking through my personal possessions and seeing the messy contents is almost as bad as losing my bag!
This morning as I went down to breakfast at our son's house, I wanted to check my phone, when I realized I had left my purse upstairs. Except that it wasn't upstairs! I retraced my steps, remembering that last night after church I had dug in the purse for an allergy pill. A search of the downstairs proved fruitless. Was it before or after church I had looked for the meds? I couldn't remember!
What if I had left it at church? Maybe I was carrying my grandson's diaper bag and unconsciously assumed it was my purse? I looked in the van we were in. Nothing. Our son works at the church, so I instructed him to call if he found it there. My heart pounding and a headache coming on, I went back upstairs to make the bed and get dressed. "God, help me find my purse," I prayed as I picked up a pillow off the floor. My purse! There it was beside the bed under the pillow! Thank you, Lord!
All that was small potatoes compared to a scenario a couple of days ago. Our granddaughters were home from school and the baby-sitter had left. Leaving Howard downstairs with them, I went upstairs and saw I had missed a call. Chatting with Jamie as I returned the call, I could see my granddaughter's red skirt as she passed the window on her bike.
"Where are the girls?" I asked their Pa-Pa as I went back downstairs. He said he didn't know, they were here a minute ago. "Well, I don't see them," I said as I looked through the house and called. He said Anne-Marie had been riding her bike, but I saw her bike on the porch. The more we looked for them, the more alarmed I became.
Finally, we scooped up the baby and got in the car to look around the neighborhood. They knew not to leave the yard, but what if? I was ready to call their father when I took one last look through the big house. There they were, in an alcove off their parents' room, quietly playing and looking at books. They hadn't heard me!
I couldn't help but think of the parable of the lost sheep in Luke 15. "What man of you, having a hundred sheep, if he lose one of them, doth not leave the ninety and nine in the wilderness and go after that which is lost, until he find it? And when he hath found it, he layeth it on his shoulders, rejoicing," Luke 15:4-5.
"I say unto you, that likewise joy shall be in heaven over one sinner that repenteth, more than over ninety and nine just persons, which need no repentance," Luke 15:7.
"Howard, why didn't you check the cart?" I exclaimed. To avoid lugging a heavy purse, I often place it in the baby-seat section of the buggy, then if I forget it, my husband will notice it before he puts the cart away.
I took the purse from the man, then on a closer look, I realized it wasn't my purse at all! The color and shape had fooled me. My purse was at my feet! I got the man's attention and told him I'd made a mistake, to which he replied, "Well, I'll just take it inside then." (My husband reminded me that I was the one who had emptied the cart. Touche'!)
Nothing makes me more panicky than to think I have lost or left my purse somewhere. Besides the fact that it contains important cards and Iphone, the feeling of being violated as someone is looking through my personal possessions and seeing the messy contents is almost as bad as losing my bag!
This morning as I went down to breakfast at our son's house, I wanted to check my phone, when I realized I had left my purse upstairs. Except that it wasn't upstairs! I retraced my steps, remembering that last night after church I had dug in the purse for an allergy pill. A search of the downstairs proved fruitless. Was it before or after church I had looked for the meds? I couldn't remember!
What if I had left it at church? Maybe I was carrying my grandson's diaper bag and unconsciously assumed it was my purse? I looked in the van we were in. Nothing. Our son works at the church, so I instructed him to call if he found it there. My heart pounding and a headache coming on, I went back upstairs to make the bed and get dressed. "God, help me find my purse," I prayed as I picked up a pillow off the floor. My purse! There it was beside the bed under the pillow! Thank you, Lord!
All that was small potatoes compared to a scenario a couple of days ago. Our granddaughters were home from school and the baby-sitter had left. Leaving Howard downstairs with them, I went upstairs and saw I had missed a call. Chatting with Jamie as I returned the call, I could see my granddaughter's red skirt as she passed the window on her bike.
"Where are the girls?" I asked their Pa-Pa as I went back downstairs. He said he didn't know, they were here a minute ago. "Well, I don't see them," I said as I looked through the house and called. He said Anne-Marie had been riding her bike, but I saw her bike on the porch. The more we looked for them, the more alarmed I became.
Finally, we scooped up the baby and got in the car to look around the neighborhood. They knew not to leave the yard, but what if? I was ready to call their father when I took one last look through the big house. There they were, in an alcove off their parents' room, quietly playing and looking at books. They hadn't heard me!
I couldn't help but think of the parable of the lost sheep in Luke 15. "What man of you, having a hundred sheep, if he lose one of them, doth not leave the ninety and nine in the wilderness and go after that which is lost, until he find it? And when he hath found it, he layeth it on his shoulders, rejoicing," Luke 15:4-5.
"I say unto you, that likewise joy shall be in heaven over one sinner that repenteth, more than over ninety and nine just persons, which need no repentance," Luke 15:7.
Sunday, May 24, 2015
A Lot at Stake!
Our steaks had come, and they looked delicious! We had decided to go to our local steak house, a splurge, but it would be something to do on a lonely, holiday weekend. My husband and I had already visited the salad bar, enjoying the array of fixin's and the warmly glowing atmosphere of immaculate, cloth-covered tables and attractive settings. A tiny loaf of freshly baked bread sat on the table, and it tasted as good as it looked.
We had been enjoying watching the other diners, especially a large family of mixed generations, from tots to grandma, with the bright attraction of two pretty girls the center of attention. It was graduation night, and they had obviously come for an early celebration dinner before ceremonies at the auditorium. I nudged Howard and looked on admiringly as they held hands around the table and bowed their heads for a blessing.
I couldn't wait to put my fork into the luscious-looking steak. Howard was already swooning over his. He said it was just right, partly, I think, because I had urged him to order it medium-rare, instead of his usual medium-well, which was invariably too dry and chewy.
Something was odd. My steak tasted like steak sauce, which I do not care for. I ate a few more bites, trying to like it, but it had a sour, almost vinegary taste. "Does yours taste like this?" I asked my husband, to which he replied that he liked steak sauce. I sat there disappointed, wondering if I should say something to the server. I hated to complain, and even have to wait for them to prepare another steak for me.
Well, it was expensive, so when the waitress passed by again, I told her it tasted sour. She said they did not use steak sauce, but it might be the marinade! She checked, and that is what it was. "Can I bring you another one without marinade?" the helpful lady offered. I agreed, and resignedly prepared for a long wait, knowing Howard would be finished by the time it got there. Thankfully, my steak appeared promptly, and then it was my turn to swoon. It was heavenly! It tasted like steak!
Thinking about this later, I was glad I spoke up. Even though my husband thinks I am pretty outspoken, I really don't like to make waves. I think a lot of women are like this, just settling for less than the best, rather than cause an inconvenience. Recently in our ladies' Bible study, Women of the Bible, we looked at Abigail, the wife of a wealthy, but stingy man, Nabal.
David had been hiding out from King Saul and was camped near Nabal's property and had protected Nabal's servants from marauders during a time of sheep shearing. At one point, David's men were low on supplies, so David sent some of them to pay a visit to Nabal, asking politely for the favour of some provisions. When churlish Nabal refused, quick-tempered David set out to attack the ungrateful rich man. One of the servants overheard the plan and reported it to Abigail.
Abigail, "a woman of good understanding, and of a beautiful countenance," I Samuel 25:3, took matters into her own hands and loaded donkeys with bread, wine, meat, corn, raisins and figs, enough to feed an army, and placated warring David with her respectful, but brave manner, dissuading him from his plan to kill her husband and destroy his property, convincing him, as a man of God, not to needlessly shed blood.
The story ends with Nabal's death from a stroke after hearing about what almost happened to him, and David marrying Abigail. Sometimes it pays to speak up!
We had been enjoying watching the other diners, especially a large family of mixed generations, from tots to grandma, with the bright attraction of two pretty girls the center of attention. It was graduation night, and they had obviously come for an early celebration dinner before ceremonies at the auditorium. I nudged Howard and looked on admiringly as they held hands around the table and bowed their heads for a blessing.
I couldn't wait to put my fork into the luscious-looking steak. Howard was already swooning over his. He said it was just right, partly, I think, because I had urged him to order it medium-rare, instead of his usual medium-well, which was invariably too dry and chewy.
Something was odd. My steak tasted like steak sauce, which I do not care for. I ate a few more bites, trying to like it, but it had a sour, almost vinegary taste. "Does yours taste like this?" I asked my husband, to which he replied that he liked steak sauce. I sat there disappointed, wondering if I should say something to the server. I hated to complain, and even have to wait for them to prepare another steak for me.
Well, it was expensive, so when the waitress passed by again, I told her it tasted sour. She said they did not use steak sauce, but it might be the marinade! She checked, and that is what it was. "Can I bring you another one without marinade?" the helpful lady offered. I agreed, and resignedly prepared for a long wait, knowing Howard would be finished by the time it got there. Thankfully, my steak appeared promptly, and then it was my turn to swoon. It was heavenly! It tasted like steak!
Thinking about this later, I was glad I spoke up. Even though my husband thinks I am pretty outspoken, I really don't like to make waves. I think a lot of women are like this, just settling for less than the best, rather than cause an inconvenience. Recently in our ladies' Bible study, Women of the Bible, we looked at Abigail, the wife of a wealthy, but stingy man, Nabal.
David had been hiding out from King Saul and was camped near Nabal's property and had protected Nabal's servants from marauders during a time of sheep shearing. At one point, David's men were low on supplies, so David sent some of them to pay a visit to Nabal, asking politely for the favour of some provisions. When churlish Nabal refused, quick-tempered David set out to attack the ungrateful rich man. One of the servants overheard the plan and reported it to Abigail.
Abigail, "a woman of good understanding, and of a beautiful countenance," I Samuel 25:3, took matters into her own hands and loaded donkeys with bread, wine, meat, corn, raisins and figs, enough to feed an army, and placated warring David with her respectful, but brave manner, dissuading him from his plan to kill her husband and destroy his property, convincing him, as a man of God, not to needlessly shed blood.
The story ends with Nabal's death from a stroke after hearing about what almost happened to him, and David marrying Abigail. Sometimes it pays to speak up!
Saturday, May 23, 2015
Step by Step
I watched my granddaughter graduate today. I also heard her make a speech, as a class officer. Night before last, I got to hear her speech for baccalaureate. Did I make the trip to Georgia? No, thanks to the miracle of modern communication, I viewed iPhone videos almost in real time. I had hoped for Face Time, but we didn't make connections.
How could time have gone so fast since I used to baby-sit her and her brother and little sister? How could this quiet, shy, little girl grow into a teenager who talked so softly I always had to say, "Talk louder and don't mumble," then become this articulate, poised young woman I saw addressing hundreds--no, thousands--of people today?
They do grow up! When she called to thank me for her graduation gift, Corrin told me how surreal it seemed that high school was over. She said it was bittersweet, thinking of leaving her friends, yet looking forward to the exciting unknown of college.
Coming from a family of sports enthusiasts, Corrin played softball in middle-school, then pursued and excelled at golf in high school. She is also a swimmer, working last summer as a lifeguard, then through the winter at a senior aquatic center, to resume her lifeguard job at a pool this summer.
Since childhood, our granddaughter has tried to keep up with her big brother, unabashedly adoring and imitating him as a role model. She even put up with his assaults, like the time he told her to turn around, then shot her with a bb gun! Unfortunately, her competitive, daring bent, while a good confidence builder, has gotten her into a few scrapes. Nothing like the one that almost took her life when she had a serious accident with an ATV at age 15.
All through high school, Corrin has staunchly withstood the aftermath of the accident--several bone grafts and surgeries in preparation for dental work to restore her mouth. Though we feared disfigurement from facial injuries, she has grown more beautiful than ever. As a junior, she was a homecoming maid, and as a senior, the homecoming queen.
When I expressed sympathy over her accident while she was in the hospital, her response was, "It made me a better person." Her spiritual life has deepened, she is a responsible young lady, and she is ready for college! But I'll always remember her as a toddler coming into our adjoining apartment in the middle of the night, cold with a wet diaper and carrying a cold bottle, climbing into our bed and sleeping in the middle!
How could time have gone so fast since I used to baby-sit her and her brother and little sister? How could this quiet, shy, little girl grow into a teenager who talked so softly I always had to say, "Talk louder and don't mumble," then become this articulate, poised young woman I saw addressing hundreds--no, thousands--of people today?
They do grow up! When she called to thank me for her graduation gift, Corrin told me how surreal it seemed that high school was over. She said it was bittersweet, thinking of leaving her friends, yet looking forward to the exciting unknown of college.
Coming from a family of sports enthusiasts, Corrin played softball in middle-school, then pursued and excelled at golf in high school. She is also a swimmer, working last summer as a lifeguard, then through the winter at a senior aquatic center, to resume her lifeguard job at a pool this summer.
Since childhood, our granddaughter has tried to keep up with her big brother, unabashedly adoring and imitating him as a role model. She even put up with his assaults, like the time he told her to turn around, then shot her with a bb gun! Unfortunately, her competitive, daring bent, while a good confidence builder, has gotten her into a few scrapes. Nothing like the one that almost took her life when she had a serious accident with an ATV at age 15.
All through high school, Corrin has staunchly withstood the aftermath of the accident--several bone grafts and surgeries in preparation for dental work to restore her mouth. Though we feared disfigurement from facial injuries, she has grown more beautiful than ever. As a junior, she was a homecoming maid, and as a senior, the homecoming queen.
When I expressed sympathy over her accident while she was in the hospital, her response was, "It made me a better person." Her spiritual life has deepened, she is a responsible young lady, and she is ready for college! But I'll always remember her as a toddler coming into our adjoining apartment in the middle of the night, cold with a wet diaper and carrying a cold bottle, climbing into our bed and sleeping in the middle!
Friday, May 22, 2015
Thwarted!
I was having a nice phone chat with my daughter, when I became aware of my husband saying something, and gesturing toward the computer screen. He had just gotten off the phone discussing building a chicken pen with our son, so I figured he was trying to look up something about chickens. I waved him off as I finished our conversation.
"What's wrong?" I demanded at Howard's cross look as he pointed to the computer. Then I looked closer, to read: "Security Alert! Your computer security has been compromised! Call this number immediately for help!" The screen was covered with little boxes with alarming warnings. We turned off the computer, and guess what! When we turned it back on the messages were still there! We couldn't get rid of them nor open our computer!
I called our computer guru, and he asked if we had responded in any way. When we said no, he said to bring it in to the shop, maybe it wasn't too late. Howard took it there immediately, saying, "This is gonna cost us!" He was gone about three hours, having waited for the work to be done. I was glad to see a look of relief on his face.
"He fixed it," my husband announced wearily. "It had been hacked. He said these things are going on constantly. If we had answered their message, we would have lost all security." Howard said they would have had access to bank accounts, social security numbers, Facebook, and anything else we had on our computer.
"He told me our computer was about out of space (I knew this, for I had read an alert recently). He said we had maybe a month's worth of storage left," Howard went on. Our computer is about eight years old, so I knew it had to be pretty full. "He increased the storage for us by 16 gigabytes," my husband said.
Wow! All that? And at a very reasonable price! Thank you, Lord! I thought of the saying, "The devil meant it for evil, but God used it for good." He certainly did! Our computer had needed service for a long time, and to think I have more space for pictures, and a cleaned-up computer! The criminal, devil-inspired, mind behind the thievery was foiled for us!
The quote comes from Joseph when he says about his brother's having sold him, "But as for you, ye thought evil against me; but God meant it unto good, to bring to pass, as it is this day, to save much people alive," Genesis 50:20.
Our need wasn't that huge, but I'm thankful God cares about the things that are important to us! I had lost my favorite lipstick. I checked the car, under the seats and on the floor, as well as emptying my purse and checking bedroom and bathroom. I would have bought another one yesterday, but I was too tired to go to the cosmetic section after shopping. Then today, as I picked up a comb after a shampoo, I see it lying on a bathroom counter!
I was in the mood for my short-cut version of Eggs Benedict this morning. I put the egg on to poach, put the English muffin in the toaster, and reached for cheese on the fridge shelf. It was nowhere! I searched and searched. "Howard, are we out of cheese?" I questioned. He didn't know, so I finally closed the refrigerator door, opening it again a few minutes later for something, and the cheese fell out into my hand! Just little reminders that God cares for us!
"What's wrong?" I demanded at Howard's cross look as he pointed to the computer. Then I looked closer, to read: "Security Alert! Your computer security has been compromised! Call this number immediately for help!" The screen was covered with little boxes with alarming warnings. We turned off the computer, and guess what! When we turned it back on the messages were still there! We couldn't get rid of them nor open our computer!
I called our computer guru, and he asked if we had responded in any way. When we said no, he said to bring it in to the shop, maybe it wasn't too late. Howard took it there immediately, saying, "This is gonna cost us!" He was gone about three hours, having waited for the work to be done. I was glad to see a look of relief on his face.
"He fixed it," my husband announced wearily. "It had been hacked. He said these things are going on constantly. If we had answered their message, we would have lost all security." Howard said they would have had access to bank accounts, social security numbers, Facebook, and anything else we had on our computer.
"He told me our computer was about out of space (I knew this, for I had read an alert recently). He said we had maybe a month's worth of storage left," Howard went on. Our computer is about eight years old, so I knew it had to be pretty full. "He increased the storage for us by 16 gigabytes," my husband said.
Wow! All that? And at a very reasonable price! Thank you, Lord! I thought of the saying, "The devil meant it for evil, but God used it for good." He certainly did! Our computer had needed service for a long time, and to think I have more space for pictures, and a cleaned-up computer! The criminal, devil-inspired, mind behind the thievery was foiled for us!
The quote comes from Joseph when he says about his brother's having sold him, "But as for you, ye thought evil against me; but God meant it unto good, to bring to pass, as it is this day, to save much people alive," Genesis 50:20.
Our need wasn't that huge, but I'm thankful God cares about the things that are important to us! I had lost my favorite lipstick. I checked the car, under the seats and on the floor, as well as emptying my purse and checking bedroom and bathroom. I would have bought another one yesterday, but I was too tired to go to the cosmetic section after shopping. Then today, as I picked up a comb after a shampoo, I see it lying on a bathroom counter!
I was in the mood for my short-cut version of Eggs Benedict this morning. I put the egg on to poach, put the English muffin in the toaster, and reached for cheese on the fridge shelf. It was nowhere! I searched and searched. "Howard, are we out of cheese?" I questioned. He didn't know, so I finally closed the refrigerator door, opening it again a few minutes later for something, and the cheese fell out into my hand! Just little reminders that God cares for us!
Wednesday, May 20, 2015
The Horns of a Dilemma
"Mama, I sent you a restaurant gift card by E-mail for Mother's Day," my daughter Amy said the other day on the phone. "You won't have any trouble getting it printed, like last year, will you?" she asked guardedly.
"Oh, no," I said, "We can get it printed at the library." None of our printers seem to be working, so we finally got around to going to the library yesterday. Using a different computer feels strange to me, especially a public one with its own protocol. It wasn't long till we called on the library attendant for help.
We pulled up our E-mail provider, but since we were not on our home computer, it wanted to know our password. Password! My mind went blank. We never use it at home, because our web mail is on "favorites." I wracked my brain until something came fuzzily to the surface, but it was rejected as "Incorrect password."
I clicked on "Help," and the advice was to change my password. The typed message was "Give me a few minutes, please." After what seemed an interminably long time, a new password was displayed. I gladly entered it, but "Incorrect password" came up again. Over and over we tried it, with more of "This may take a few minutes," messages, not to mention the summoning of the attendant again.
We left in frustration, knowing that now our old password would not work on our home computer, and maybe not the new one, either! If our password was messed up, my granddaughter, whom I was considering asking for assistance, would not be able to help! Miraculously, the new password was accepted, but, still, we didn't have a printer.
"Since we're going to Stillwater tomorrow," I suggested to my husband, "why don't we stop at Adam's and get him to print the certificate for us?" A phone call to our grandson resulted in a "Yes, sure!" from our college man. He gave me directions to his digs, and I won't go into how I couldn't program them into our GPS because of a bad connection, and our phone GPS was leading us in the wrong direction. We went to the general area, and, thanks to a friendly mail carrier, we located his address.
Shortly I had the copy of the Mother's Day certificate safely in my purse. "When are you coming up?" I asked Adam as we were ready to leave. Then a thought occurred to me. "How would you like a dog?" I asked on impulse, knowing he loved Pebbles, their family pet living with us. I explained about my allergies, and he said, "I'll take her," to which I said, "You mean it?"
"I want her," Adam said. Why didn't I think of this sooner? It was an answer to my prayers! I knew he would love her, wrestle with her, and let her sleep on his bed! (Not my thing at all!) Thank you, Lord! We had lunch and finished our shopping in high spirits. Now if only we had a Cracker Barrel to use my Mother's Day present! (We'll save it for a road trip to another grandson's graduation soon!)
"Oh, no," I said, "We can get it printed at the library." None of our printers seem to be working, so we finally got around to going to the library yesterday. Using a different computer feels strange to me, especially a public one with its own protocol. It wasn't long till we called on the library attendant for help.
We pulled up our E-mail provider, but since we were not on our home computer, it wanted to know our password. Password! My mind went blank. We never use it at home, because our web mail is on "favorites." I wracked my brain until something came fuzzily to the surface, but it was rejected as "Incorrect password."
I clicked on "Help," and the advice was to change my password. The typed message was "Give me a few minutes, please." After what seemed an interminably long time, a new password was displayed. I gladly entered it, but "Incorrect password" came up again. Over and over we tried it, with more of "This may take a few minutes," messages, not to mention the summoning of the attendant again.
We left in frustration, knowing that now our old password would not work on our home computer, and maybe not the new one, either! If our password was messed up, my granddaughter, whom I was considering asking for assistance, would not be able to help! Miraculously, the new password was accepted, but, still, we didn't have a printer.
"Since we're going to Stillwater tomorrow," I suggested to my husband, "why don't we stop at Adam's and get him to print the certificate for us?" A phone call to our grandson resulted in a "Yes, sure!" from our college man. He gave me directions to his digs, and I won't go into how I couldn't program them into our GPS because of a bad connection, and our phone GPS was leading us in the wrong direction. We went to the general area, and, thanks to a friendly mail carrier, we located his address.
Shortly I had the copy of the Mother's Day certificate safely in my purse. "When are you coming up?" I asked Adam as we were ready to leave. Then a thought occurred to me. "How would you like a dog?" I asked on impulse, knowing he loved Pebbles, their family pet living with us. I explained about my allergies, and he said, "I'll take her," to which I said, "You mean it?"
"I want her," Adam said. Why didn't I think of this sooner? It was an answer to my prayers! I knew he would love her, wrestle with her, and let her sleep on his bed! (Not my thing at all!) Thank you, Lord! We had lunch and finished our shopping in high spirits. Now if only we had a Cracker Barrel to use my Mother's Day present! (We'll save it for a road trip to another grandson's graduation soon!)
Saturday, May 16, 2015
Happy Ending
The newspaper circular from the hardware store had featured nice, hard-plastic Adirondack chairs for a good price in their ad. The colors were pretty, too, so yesterday afternoon we went to the store to check them out. The sales clerk showed us beautiful Adirondack chairs, but they were wooden, and expensive. When I told him about the ad, he said, "Oh, that hardware store is in Blackwell. That's where they have them." He showed me the circular, and we went home empty handed.
Howard went to an evening meeting at a men's retreat and got home late, but I couldn't get the pretty, green chair out of my mind. This morning, he went to the retreat for breakfast and a service. I had all my chores done when he got home and was ready to get out of the house. "Let's go over to Blackwell and get one of those chairs for the front patio," I suggested. I didn't tell him I had already called, and they had one left in my color.
We squeezed it (and an ottoman) into our car, then since it was noon, we decided to eat lunch, dismissing a Mexican place, a pizza place and a few other restaurants. Finally we decided on Braum's. It was crowded, being right off I-35, and as we waited for our order a pretty young girl sat down across from us, while a slender, older lady went to the counter. When she came back, I realized it was a friend from high school, the class of 57!
I started to speak to her, but she had gone to another table and introduced herself. I knew she had moved away, so she was probably trying to connect to old acquaintances. I had run into her at a weekly Bible study when we first came back to this area a few years ago. She had married her best friend's older brother, who was a doctor, so I am sure they knew many people in Blackwell. In fact, her future husband had made a house call for me once when I was seriously ill with Asian flu and Mama called the doctor.
When she passed back by our table after a lengthy and animated visit with those in the booth behind us, I said, "Hi, Karen!" she smiled politely and said "Hi," then I told her my name. "From the Bible study...and high school!" I said. Then she brightened and recognized me, and her granddaughter said, "I'm Brooke." We talked a few minutes about their trip to see another granddaughter graduate.
"You have a beautiful granddaughter," I said, of the immaculately groomed, perfectly tanned, stylishly-dressed girl across from her. I didn't tell her she reminded me of our own granddaughter, who will hardly leave the house without straightening her hair and putting on make-up, although she would be beautiful without it.
Howard asked my friend about the people she had been talking to. He was sure he knew one of them, and when they were leaving, he met him and talked over old times and people they had both known. Turns out he was a brother to a guy Howard had gone to school with (sadly, deceased), who knew Howard's dad and the family.
"I remember your father-in-law," Howard said to Karen as we left, to which she said, "Yes, he made house-calls!" The older doctor and his son had a practice together back then.
"I enjoyed that!" my talked-out husband said as we headed home, and I agreed that it had been fun. Our spirits were lifted in spite of threatening weather, and we enjoyed the ride home on a newly-surfaced back road through verdant wheat fields just beginning to take on a gold tinge.
We were glad we decided on Braum's! We would never have had those chance meetings otherwise! When we see old school friends or acquaintances, the years seem to melt away and we are young again! Just like it will be in heaven, when we meet Jesus and our loved ones!
Oh yes, Howard loved the contoured chair. He has already tried it out and it has his seal of approval. And the apple-green color looks heavenly in front of my pastel flowers!
Howard went to an evening meeting at a men's retreat and got home late, but I couldn't get the pretty, green chair out of my mind. This morning, he went to the retreat for breakfast and a service. I had all my chores done when he got home and was ready to get out of the house. "Let's go over to Blackwell and get one of those chairs for the front patio," I suggested. I didn't tell him I had already called, and they had one left in my color.
We squeezed it (and an ottoman) into our car, then since it was noon, we decided to eat lunch, dismissing a Mexican place, a pizza place and a few other restaurants. Finally we decided on Braum's. It was crowded, being right off I-35, and as we waited for our order a pretty young girl sat down across from us, while a slender, older lady went to the counter. When she came back, I realized it was a friend from high school, the class of 57!
I started to speak to her, but she had gone to another table and introduced herself. I knew she had moved away, so she was probably trying to connect to old acquaintances. I had run into her at a weekly Bible study when we first came back to this area a few years ago. She had married her best friend's older brother, who was a doctor, so I am sure they knew many people in Blackwell. In fact, her future husband had made a house call for me once when I was seriously ill with Asian flu and Mama called the doctor.
When she passed back by our table after a lengthy and animated visit with those in the booth behind us, I said, "Hi, Karen!" she smiled politely and said "Hi," then I told her my name. "From the Bible study...and high school!" I said. Then she brightened and recognized me, and her granddaughter said, "I'm Brooke." We talked a few minutes about their trip to see another granddaughter graduate.
"You have a beautiful granddaughter," I said, of the immaculately groomed, perfectly tanned, stylishly-dressed girl across from her. I didn't tell her she reminded me of our own granddaughter, who will hardly leave the house without straightening her hair and putting on make-up, although she would be beautiful without it.
Howard asked my friend about the people she had been talking to. He was sure he knew one of them, and when they were leaving, he met him and talked over old times and people they had both known. Turns out he was a brother to a guy Howard had gone to school with (sadly, deceased), who knew Howard's dad and the family.
"I remember your father-in-law," Howard said to Karen as we left, to which she said, "Yes, he made house-calls!" The older doctor and his son had a practice together back then.
"I enjoyed that!" my talked-out husband said as we headed home, and I agreed that it had been fun. Our spirits were lifted in spite of threatening weather, and we enjoyed the ride home on a newly-surfaced back road through verdant wheat fields just beginning to take on a gold tinge.
We were glad we decided on Braum's! We would never have had those chance meetings otherwise! When we see old school friends or acquaintances, the years seem to melt away and we are young again! Just like it will be in heaven, when we meet Jesus and our loved ones!
Oh yes, Howard loved the contoured chair. He has already tried it out and it has his seal of approval. And the apple-green color looks heavenly in front of my pastel flowers!
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