"Will that be all?" the clerk asked rather disinterestedly as I put a couple of items for my husband on the counter in the men's department of a major store.
"Well, actually, I was looking for pajamas for my granddaughter, but I couldn't find any. I looked all over for a clerk, but I couldn't find one anywhere!" I said.
"Yeah, we're really short on help today," he replied resignedly. That was putting it mildly! One could go halfway around the store without seeing an employee.
"That's some attitude!" Howard said as we walked away. Well, maybe the economy's down, I thought, but more likely they were concerned about the bottom line and cutting down on employee hours; after all this was a Saturday with sales going on. But it reminded me of the day I was checking out at a drugstore not long ago. The label on a container (I forget now what) said, 2/$5. Well, I only wanted one. Then I saw a sign in front of a box of chocolates that said 17 oz. box, $1. But the box wrapper said it contained only 14 oz.
"I know these are two for five dollars," I said to the cashier, "but according to law that I read, I should be able to get one for $2.50. And this box of candy only contains 14 ounces, not 17." The disagreeable looking woman said loudly in her most exaggerated, uncouth voice, "WELL, CAW-LL THE LAW-W!!." I think I put the items back, on principle.
Whatever happened to courtesy and "the customer is always right," philosophy? Just a sign of the general deterioration of manners in our society.
Last night our pastor was preaching on love, and he mentioned courtesy and civility, which is so often absent today. "Why is it so hard to love, and even to be civil and courteous?" he asked. Answering his own question, he referenced a scripture in Jeremiah 17:9, which says, "The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked: who can know it?" He also read John 3:19, which tells us men loved darkness rather than light, because their deeds were evil.
But as Christians, we are admonished in Ephesians 5:1,2, to "Be ye followers of God, as dear children; (2) And walk in love, as Christ also hath loved us, and hath given himself for us an offering and a sacrifice to God for a sweet-smelling savour."
I found the pjs I wanted at the next store, and even a nightie for little sister, as well. This time, I got a friendly cashier who commented that they were cute. I pointed to the pink pajamas and said, "This one's having a birthday, but I just had to get something for this one, too," pointing to the smaller sleepwear, to which she acknowledged with a smile, "I know, I do that, too!"
It is so easy to walk in love when it's children that we are loving, but the challenge is to be sweet-smelling to our fellowman!
Monday, November 5, 2012
Saturday, November 3, 2012
Moments in Time
"Look, a mantis!" 7-year old Kate said as she pointed toward the top of the porch screen.
"Yes," I said, "It's a praying mantis."
"Why do they call it that?" she wanted to know. I told her to look at its paws, folded as if praying. "I see it now! They are!" she exclaimed. Then her little sister said, "Where?" then, "Oh, I see it, too!"
They had gotten bored with after-school TV shows and joined me on the front porch. Earlier, Kate had wanted some juice, and when I poured grape juice from the large bottle in the fridge, she surprised me by saying in a conspiratory aside, "They use this for Jesus's blood, but it really isn't!" before dashing out the door.
Soon they were rearranging decorative bowls holding fall arrangements of fake fruit and vegetables I had on the porch. Oh, well, they weren't breakable, so I let them play. Then they used small empty watering pots to "water" them. I enjoyed watching their childish imaginations at work. I had been missing my small grandchildren who live far away, and I couldn't help but realize God was helping me fill the gap by watching these newly-adopted grandchildren after school.
In a little while, PaPa wandered out and began strumming his guitar. Then an idea struck him. "I want to teach you a song!" he told the little girls. Kate had wanted to sing during our last church singspiration, and all she knew was "Jesus Loves Me," on which he had accompanied her on the guitar. "You can learn this and sing it at church!" he urged enthusiastically. He played and sang a couple of lines of "Let the Sunshine In," then had them repeat it. Before long, they were picking it up.
"Write it down for her, and she will learn it," our son, who had come to pick up the girls by this time, said. "She reads really well." I knew it was true. I was always amazed by this sharp, articulate child. She had been chosen last week to demonstrate a 2nd-grade lesson on the computer at a local technology expo, and just today she had brought home a certificate proclaiming her "Star Student of the Week" in her class.
Later, as we were gathering eggs at the farm where we had met their family, I asked 6-year-old Beth if she wanted to see how chickens sleep. She nodded, and looked in the hen house to see the chickens perched high in rows on their roosting poles. There is always a teaching moment with kids around.
I saw on the Facebook today that my 14-year-old granddaughter had posted a picture of her brother and herself at the tender ages of 3 and 5. As teenagers, they get a kick out of sharing their younger pictures with friends. Looking at the dear little faces, my eyes misted up. I was overwhelmed by how infinitely precious children are, and indeed every individual. What an amazing God we have, to fill our lives with people to love!
"Yes," I said, "It's a praying mantis."
"Why do they call it that?" she wanted to know. I told her to look at its paws, folded as if praying. "I see it now! They are!" she exclaimed. Then her little sister said, "Where?" then, "Oh, I see it, too!"
They had gotten bored with after-school TV shows and joined me on the front porch. Earlier, Kate had wanted some juice, and when I poured grape juice from the large bottle in the fridge, she surprised me by saying in a conspiratory aside, "They use this for Jesus's blood, but it really isn't!" before dashing out the door.
Soon they were rearranging decorative bowls holding fall arrangements of fake fruit and vegetables I had on the porch. Oh, well, they weren't breakable, so I let them play. Then they used small empty watering pots to "water" them. I enjoyed watching their childish imaginations at work. I had been missing my small grandchildren who live far away, and I couldn't help but realize God was helping me fill the gap by watching these newly-adopted grandchildren after school.
In a little while, PaPa wandered out and began strumming his guitar. Then an idea struck him. "I want to teach you a song!" he told the little girls. Kate had wanted to sing during our last church singspiration, and all she knew was "Jesus Loves Me," on which he had accompanied her on the guitar. "You can learn this and sing it at church!" he urged enthusiastically. He played and sang a couple of lines of "Let the Sunshine In," then had them repeat it. Before long, they were picking it up.
"Write it down for her, and she will learn it," our son, who had come to pick up the girls by this time, said. "She reads really well." I knew it was true. I was always amazed by this sharp, articulate child. She had been chosen last week to demonstrate a 2nd-grade lesson on the computer at a local technology expo, and just today she had brought home a certificate proclaiming her "Star Student of the Week" in her class.
Later, as we were gathering eggs at the farm where we had met their family, I asked 6-year-old Beth if she wanted to see how chickens sleep. She nodded, and looked in the hen house to see the chickens perched high in rows on their roosting poles. There is always a teaching moment with kids around.
I saw on the Facebook today that my 14-year-old granddaughter had posted a picture of her brother and herself at the tender ages of 3 and 5. As teenagers, they get a kick out of sharing their younger pictures with friends. Looking at the dear little faces, my eyes misted up. I was overwhelmed by how infinitely precious children are, and indeed every individual. What an amazing God we have, to fill our lives with people to love!
Friday, November 2, 2012
Voila! Violas!
Once in a while one of my horticulturist endeavors turns out right. Okay, so my beautiful chrysanthemums, massed in the flower boxes with lavender blossoms surrounded by bright yellow flowers on either end have decided, for the most part, to turn an ugly shade of brown. And though the pansies we tried out front have withered, I do have one bright spot. A hanging basket of violas, like dozens of tiny pansies, greets me every morning with their cheerful, tri-color faces of purple, yellow, and velvety brown. Today I counted upwards of a hundred blossoms on it!
I remember when I bought the basket several weeks ago, I was a little disappointed in it. The shopper in front of me had one that was enviably prettier, already showing blossoms, while mine had only a few pinched, tightly curled buds. Then one day I noticed a few blooms, and upon turning it around, I could see the side facing the street and the rising sun was plentifully scattered with flowers. I turned the back side to the sun awhile, and now a colorful array of violas float airily, cloud like on their slender stems, bobbing merrily in the breeze!
"Consider the lilies of the field," Jesus said, "Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these," Matthew 6:28, 29. Jesus recognized the beauty of His creation. We can't help but appreciate it, too, partly because it is so fleeting. Jesus said today it is, then tomorrow it is cast into the oven. I Peter 1:24 says, "For all flesh is as grass, and the glory of man as the flower of grass. The grass withereth, and the flower thereof falleth away."
Evidently beauty is supposed to last for only a season, therefore it is to be cherished, (not worshipped). I see girls and young women who are still in the flower of youth, which they take for granted, not realizing how quickly it fades away. James 4:14 asks, "For what is your life? It is even a vapor, that appeareth for a little time, and then vanisheth away."
Our eyes are naturally attracted to beauty, probably because we have an innate longing for heaven where everything is perfect, orderly and beautiful. The Bible says in Ecclesiastes 3:11 that God has made everything beautiful in it's time, and He has put eternity in our hearts
I know my flowers won't last past the first hard freeze, but that just makes me marvel at their beauty even more. Besides, being in the pansy family, they will likely come back in the spring, just like a resurrection, which Christians can look forward to also when we will be in our glorious new bodies! That will be beauty beyond compare!
I remember when I bought the basket several weeks ago, I was a little disappointed in it. The shopper in front of me had one that was enviably prettier, already showing blossoms, while mine had only a few pinched, tightly curled buds. Then one day I noticed a few blooms, and upon turning it around, I could see the side facing the street and the rising sun was plentifully scattered with flowers. I turned the back side to the sun awhile, and now a colorful array of violas float airily, cloud like on their slender stems, bobbing merrily in the breeze!
"Consider the lilies of the field," Jesus said, "Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these," Matthew 6:28, 29. Jesus recognized the beauty of His creation. We can't help but appreciate it, too, partly because it is so fleeting. Jesus said today it is, then tomorrow it is cast into the oven. I Peter 1:24 says, "For all flesh is as grass, and the glory of man as the flower of grass. The grass withereth, and the flower thereof falleth away."
Evidently beauty is supposed to last for only a season, therefore it is to be cherished, (not worshipped). I see girls and young women who are still in the flower of youth, which they take for granted, not realizing how quickly it fades away. James 4:14 asks, "For what is your life? It is even a vapor, that appeareth for a little time, and then vanisheth away."
Our eyes are naturally attracted to beauty, probably because we have an innate longing for heaven where everything is perfect, orderly and beautiful. The Bible says in Ecclesiastes 3:11 that God has made everything beautiful in it's time, and He has put eternity in our hearts
I know my flowers won't last past the first hard freeze, but that just makes me marvel at their beauty even more. Besides, being in the pansy family, they will likely come back in the spring, just like a resurrection, which Christians can look forward to also when we will be in our glorious new bodies! That will be beauty beyond compare!
Thursday, November 1, 2012
Sacred Trust
"Daddy, I sleeped on you when you was a doctor," my three-year-old granddaughter told her puzzled father. Then he realized she had probably seen the picture of him in scrubs holding her as a newborn at the hospital. Somewhere Maddie had associated the attire and the head covering he had worn as being medical garb, or in her mind, that of a doctor.
I love to hear of her funny sayings, as well as those of her big sister, soon-to-be-six-Anne-Marie. Our son is home-schooling her, and for a kindergartener, her lessons sound a bit ambitious, kind of like the tutored children of old, schooled in literature, the arts and such. The other day she referred to her lesson as "rosaparkstone." She had combined Rosetta Stone and Rosa Parks. No, she wasn't trying to understand Egyptian heiroglyphs, but she was learning French with an internet program by that name, as well as learning about the civil rights activist. I mentioned he might be pushing her a little!
I have a heart for children, having raised six of my own, being blessed with 18 (oops, 20 with the new adoptions!) grandchildren, and now three great-grandbabies. I guess that's why I noticed the little child wandering aimlessly near a church school when we picked up our grands at their school yesterday. "Look, Howard, that child is in the road!" I exclaimed to my husband. He had walked in front of a car, safely, thankfully, but I could see the little boy, maybe 4, was unattended.
"Let me out, I think he's lost!," I said as Howard slowed and I got out. When the little boy saw me, he hurried away. "Wait!" I called, "Do you go to school here?" He looked maybe old enough to be in pre-K. He nodded, and I asked where his teacher was. He pointed, but said, "My dad has already picked me up." His parent was no where in sight, and the child slipped into an interior courtyard.
Just then I saw a teacher-like figure going up the outdoor stairs, and called to her. "That little boy was in the street!" She shrugged exasperatedly and said it was an everyday occurrence. His father picks him up, then he comes back to play with no supervision. Well, as long as they knew about it. I got back in the car, shaking my head. What risky behaviour.
The Bible says children are a heritage from the Lord. (Psalm 127:3). In other words, they are not really ours, but God's. We get to keep them for awhile, hopefully raising them with love, care, and guidance.
Our pattern for nurturing children is the heart of God. In Hosea 11:3,4, He exhibits tenderness and sensitivity when He says, "I taught Ephraim to walk, Taking them by their arms...I drew them with gentle cords, with bands of love...I stooped and fed them."
Besides the expanded subjects Jamie is teaching his little girl, he is also teaching her the basics, like learning to read. "She's reading now, Mom," he said on the phone, "She read to her Nana the other day when she was here." I suggested that she could read to me on the phone. "Or Skype," he said, "I'll get her on Skype and you can hear and see her read." Rosetta Stone aside, I like the modern technology! Especially when it connects me with my grandchildren!
I love to hear of her funny sayings, as well as those of her big sister, soon-to-be-six-Anne-Marie. Our son is home-schooling her, and for a kindergartener, her lessons sound a bit ambitious, kind of like the tutored children of old, schooled in literature, the arts and such. The other day she referred to her lesson as "rosaparkstone." She had combined Rosetta Stone and Rosa Parks. No, she wasn't trying to understand Egyptian heiroglyphs, but she was learning French with an internet program by that name, as well as learning about the civil rights activist. I mentioned he might be pushing her a little!
I have a heart for children, having raised six of my own, being blessed with 18 (oops, 20 with the new adoptions!) grandchildren, and now three great-grandbabies. I guess that's why I noticed the little child wandering aimlessly near a church school when we picked up our grands at their school yesterday. "Look, Howard, that child is in the road!" I exclaimed to my husband. He had walked in front of a car, safely, thankfully, but I could see the little boy, maybe 4, was unattended.
"Let me out, I think he's lost!," I said as Howard slowed and I got out. When the little boy saw me, he hurried away. "Wait!" I called, "Do you go to school here?" He looked maybe old enough to be in pre-K. He nodded, and I asked where his teacher was. He pointed, but said, "My dad has already picked me up." His parent was no where in sight, and the child slipped into an interior courtyard.
Just then I saw a teacher-like figure going up the outdoor stairs, and called to her. "That little boy was in the street!" She shrugged exasperatedly and said it was an everyday occurrence. His father picks him up, then he comes back to play with no supervision. Well, as long as they knew about it. I got back in the car, shaking my head. What risky behaviour.
The Bible says children are a heritage from the Lord. (Psalm 127:3). In other words, they are not really ours, but God's. We get to keep them for awhile, hopefully raising them with love, care, and guidance.
Our pattern for nurturing children is the heart of God. In Hosea 11:3,4, He exhibits tenderness and sensitivity when He says, "I taught Ephraim to walk, Taking them by their arms...I drew them with gentle cords, with bands of love...I stooped and fed them."
Besides the expanded subjects Jamie is teaching his little girl, he is also teaching her the basics, like learning to read. "She's reading now, Mom," he said on the phone, "She read to her Nana the other day when she was here." I suggested that she could read to me on the phone. "Or Skype," he said, "I'll get her on Skype and you can hear and see her read." Rosetta Stone aside, I like the modern technology! Especially when it connects me with my grandchildren!
Wednesday, October 31, 2012
Trip Interrupted
"Aunt Thelma," my niece spoke over the phone, "My dad is visiting and he would like to come and see you and Uncle Howard." How nice! I thought, and asked to speak to this old friend we'd not seen for probably 50 years. He and my sister had been divorced several years, even then, but he would always feel like a member of the family for all of us. He still sounded like himself, his voice just not as strong as I remembered. We didn't talk long, but we looked forward to a possible visit.
Finally, it was set up for yesterday. I was glad I had done some housecleaning the day before, and enlisted my husband to help me finish making the house company ready. We scurried around with excitement, not knowing exactly when they would come, but they would call before the hour's drive from Wichita. Finally, as the day wore on, I tried to contact my niece by phone and internet, but got no response.
"What do you supposed happened?" I asked my husband. "Did I misunderstand?" There were two possible dates for the visit, and I had chosen Tuesday, yesterday. Finally, we ate supper, and I was getting ready for bed when the phone rang.
"I need to tell you why we didn't come down today," my niece said, "I've been calling so many people I forgot to call you. Daddy has had a heart attack and is in intensive care at the hospital!" Oh, no! How I hated to hear that! He is 86, but he had been healthy as far as I knew. His wife had died about a month before, and he was doing some visiting and reconnecting with folks after the confinement of her illness. He was talking of looking up family in Texas, too.
My mind went back to my first memories of Eddie. I was only 5 when he and my sister got married, and I remember him taking a nap at our house. For some reason, I crept up and planted a kiss on his sleeping countenance! Then, to my chagrin, he opened one eye, winked, smiled at me and went back to sleep.
Before that, he would show up at our house unannounced, walking down the country lane, smiling his shy grin and making himself useful on the place, chopping wood, fixing small items or just hanging around. Mama loved him. After the young couple's marriage, and for the rest of her life, he would call her "Mama."
As a newly-wed, he went into the Navy, and I remember them using some of his pay for Christmas presents for our family. I got the first new doll I can remember, and my brothers got tiny replicas of Navy battleships.
When I got school age, my sister begged Mama into letting them take me and send me to school. She had her hands full with a houseful of boys, so I was allowed to go. They bought my books, school dresses, and paid my fees. I stayed with them and went to school again in 3rd grade, and even for a semester in high school. It seemed they were always there for me.
The phone just rang with the news that his surgery went well. A stent was put in, and although he needs a second stent in a few weeks, the outlook is good for a successful recovery. In that case, we will be the ones visiting him, but that visit will take place after all!
Finally, it was set up for yesterday. I was glad I had done some housecleaning the day before, and enlisted my husband to help me finish making the house company ready. We scurried around with excitement, not knowing exactly when they would come, but they would call before the hour's drive from Wichita. Finally, as the day wore on, I tried to contact my niece by phone and internet, but got no response.
"What do you supposed happened?" I asked my husband. "Did I misunderstand?" There were two possible dates for the visit, and I had chosen Tuesday, yesterday. Finally, we ate supper, and I was getting ready for bed when the phone rang.
"I need to tell you why we didn't come down today," my niece said, "I've been calling so many people I forgot to call you. Daddy has had a heart attack and is in intensive care at the hospital!" Oh, no! How I hated to hear that! He is 86, but he had been healthy as far as I knew. His wife had died about a month before, and he was doing some visiting and reconnecting with folks after the confinement of her illness. He was talking of looking up family in Texas, too.
My mind went back to my first memories of Eddie. I was only 5 when he and my sister got married, and I remember him taking a nap at our house. For some reason, I crept up and planted a kiss on his sleeping countenance! Then, to my chagrin, he opened one eye, winked, smiled at me and went back to sleep.
Before that, he would show up at our house unannounced, walking down the country lane, smiling his shy grin and making himself useful on the place, chopping wood, fixing small items or just hanging around. Mama loved him. After the young couple's marriage, and for the rest of her life, he would call her "Mama."
As a newly-wed, he went into the Navy, and I remember them using some of his pay for Christmas presents for our family. I got the first new doll I can remember, and my brothers got tiny replicas of Navy battleships.
When I got school age, my sister begged Mama into letting them take me and send me to school. She had her hands full with a houseful of boys, so I was allowed to go. They bought my books, school dresses, and paid my fees. I stayed with them and went to school again in 3rd grade, and even for a semester in high school. It seemed they were always there for me.
The phone just rang with the news that his surgery went well. A stent was put in, and although he needs a second stent in a few weeks, the outlook is good for a successful recovery. In that case, we will be the ones visiting him, but that visit will take place after all!
Monday, October 29, 2012
October Surprise(s)
"Do you smell anything?" I asked my husband expectantly as we entered the door after church. There is nothing better than coming home on Sunday and being greeted by the delicious aroma of dinner in the oven. This morning I had put in a chicken to roast, with carrots, onion and potatoes, but without much sense of smell, I could only rely on him for a mouth-watering description.
"No," he said, "not yet." My heart sank as we headed toward the kitchen. The house was cold, and so was the oven door! Looking at the oven dial, I couldn't believe my eyes. It was set on the lowest temperature! The food wasn't even lukewarm! How could that have happened? I had double-checked it, but misread the direction of the indicator! How disappointing!
"Well," I said resignedly, "let's just make a sandwich and eat this later." He looked doubtful, but I reminded him that we could go out to the farm and feed the chickens, and hopefully our feast would be done when we got back. I ate rather glumly, but I had to admit the grilled ham and cheese tasted good. I hoped I would be hungry later.
My spirits about our poultry project had been a little depressed, too. A couple of weeks ago, we had taken a drive to Stillwater to eat lunch and visit a couple of stores. Since I found some items for myself, I couldn't protest when, on the way out, Howard said with satisfaction, "Now we are going to Atwoods and see if they have any guineas!" We saw lots of baby chicks at the farm supply store, but he wanted guineas. Finally he asked the attendant and she directed us to the right cages.
Howard selected two brown "keets," as the babies are called, and then he expansively pointed to a white one and said, "I'll take that one, too!" They were about six weeks old, but the saleslady said they still had to be on a wild bird food. We had spent about $20 before we left. Howard kept them in the basement for several nights, then in a warm spell, he put them in cages in the backyard.
Everything went fine, until one evening sitting on the front porch I tried to read the words on a white truck that was slowing in front of our house. "Does that say 'A-nim-al Control?' I murmured. When it stopped and a man began walking toward the house, Howard went to meet him with a friendly greeting. They talked awhile, and when my husband came back, he said there had been a complaint that day about a rooster crowing in our backyard! We had moved our chickens to the farm weeks ago! Nothing came of it, and although he told my "farmer" it was okay to keep the guineas back there, we moved them to the farm the next day.
After a few days, my husband and son decided the flock, including the guineas, could be "free range," and let them out of the chicken pen. The brown ones were missing the next day. I hated seeing the disappointment on Howard's face. We dutifully penned the white one we'd found cowering behind a bale of straw, but a few days later it went missing. Charting it up to a hawk or something, we tried to put the fiasco out of our minds.
Driving up to the farm, we saw Greg working on the chicken house, adding new nesting boxes. "Your white guinea is here!" he announced. There it was, pecking among the chickens! Thank you, Lord! (It probably helped that Howard had caged the abusive rooster!)
Our dinner tasted great when we got home a couple of hours later, followed that evening by a wonderful church singspiration and fellowship. What a great day the Lord had made!
"No," he said, "not yet." My heart sank as we headed toward the kitchen. The house was cold, and so was the oven door! Looking at the oven dial, I couldn't believe my eyes. It was set on the lowest temperature! The food wasn't even lukewarm! How could that have happened? I had double-checked it, but misread the direction of the indicator! How disappointing!
"Well," I said resignedly, "let's just make a sandwich and eat this later." He looked doubtful, but I reminded him that we could go out to the farm and feed the chickens, and hopefully our feast would be done when we got back. I ate rather glumly, but I had to admit the grilled ham and cheese tasted good. I hoped I would be hungry later.
My spirits about our poultry project had been a little depressed, too. A couple of weeks ago, we had taken a drive to Stillwater to eat lunch and visit a couple of stores. Since I found some items for myself, I couldn't protest when, on the way out, Howard said with satisfaction, "Now we are going to Atwoods and see if they have any guineas!" We saw lots of baby chicks at the farm supply store, but he wanted guineas. Finally he asked the attendant and she directed us to the right cages.
Howard selected two brown "keets," as the babies are called, and then he expansively pointed to a white one and said, "I'll take that one, too!" They were about six weeks old, but the saleslady said they still had to be on a wild bird food. We had spent about $20 before we left. Howard kept them in the basement for several nights, then in a warm spell, he put them in cages in the backyard.
Everything went fine, until one evening sitting on the front porch I tried to read the words on a white truck that was slowing in front of our house. "Does that say 'A-nim-al Control?' I murmured. When it stopped and a man began walking toward the house, Howard went to meet him with a friendly greeting. They talked awhile, and when my husband came back, he said there had been a complaint that day about a rooster crowing in our backyard! We had moved our chickens to the farm weeks ago! Nothing came of it, and although he told my "farmer" it was okay to keep the guineas back there, we moved them to the farm the next day.
After a few days, my husband and son decided the flock, including the guineas, could be "free range," and let them out of the chicken pen. The brown ones were missing the next day. I hated seeing the disappointment on Howard's face. We dutifully penned the white one we'd found cowering behind a bale of straw, but a few days later it went missing. Charting it up to a hawk or something, we tried to put the fiasco out of our minds.
Driving up to the farm, we saw Greg working on the chicken house, adding new nesting boxes. "Your white guinea is here!" he announced. There it was, pecking among the chickens! Thank you, Lord! (It probably helped that Howard had caged the abusive rooster!)
Our dinner tasted great when we got home a couple of hours later, followed that evening by a wonderful church singspiration and fellowship. What a great day the Lord had made!
Clear as a Bell?
"Did you get the nail?" I asked my husband as he came into the room. We had bought an item of wall decor and I was needing his help to hang it. Instead of answering, he went out the front door. I was standing by the fireplace looking over the mail I had just brought in.
"Is that the mail?" he asked when he came back in. "I thought you wanted me to get it!" He had thought I said, "mail." It was funny, but it happens all the time with two people whose hearing is not as keen as it should be. We've just learned to laugh it off and hope we don't misunderstand something important..
Like the time when our kids were little, and I heard my nine-year-old son ask, "Mom, can I have a hot-dog?" I was reading the paper and answered distractedly, "Sure, if there are any left from lunch." Pretty soon I was aware of him on the phone saying something like "AKC, Registered, and other mysterious utterances. I saw that he had the classified section of the newspaper spread out before him.
"What are you doing?" I demanded, to which he replied innocently, "I'm looking for a hunting dog! You said I could have one!" I reminded myself to start listening more closely!
Sometimes I accuse my husband of having selective hearing, though. I can call him repeatedly from the kitchen, then, thinking he hasn't heard me, I finally go to the bedroom and let him know, "I called you three times!" His response is "And I answered you three times!" (Well, what with the stove fan on, the refrigerator humming, and the microwave dinging, I guess I hadn't heard him!) Anyway he knows that I mean the meal is ready; he just doesn't want to leave his pursuits of reading, TV, or computer. I feel like saying, as I did when the kids were young, "When I call you, I want you to come!"
There is a story in the Bible about young Samuel, who thought he heard Eli, the priest call him, and rose obediently from his sleeping mat. He immediately went to the priest, and said, "Here I am." (I Samuel 3:4). This happened three times, until Eli instructed him that if he heard the voice call him again, it was the Lord. This time, Samuel recognized it as being from God and received his instructions.
The Bible says in Romans 10:17, "So then faith cometh by hearing, and hearing by the word of God." The previous verses have taught that whosoever calls on the Lord will be saved, but first they must hear about him, and how shall they hear without a preacher? It goes on to say, "How beautiful are the feet of them that preach the gospel." Well, my preacher husband is probably in there studying his Bible, hearing from God, so I guess I'll give him some slack. That is the most important hearing, after all!
"Is that the mail?" he asked when he came back in. "I thought you wanted me to get it!" He had thought I said, "mail." It was funny, but it happens all the time with two people whose hearing is not as keen as it should be. We've just learned to laugh it off and hope we don't misunderstand something important..
Like the time when our kids were little, and I heard my nine-year-old son ask, "Mom, can I have a hot-dog?" I was reading the paper and answered distractedly, "Sure, if there are any left from lunch." Pretty soon I was aware of him on the phone saying something like "AKC, Registered, and other mysterious utterances. I saw that he had the classified section of the newspaper spread out before him.
"What are you doing?" I demanded, to which he replied innocently, "I'm looking for a hunting dog! You said I could have one!" I reminded myself to start listening more closely!
Sometimes I accuse my husband of having selective hearing, though. I can call him repeatedly from the kitchen, then, thinking he hasn't heard me, I finally go to the bedroom and let him know, "I called you three times!" His response is "And I answered you three times!" (Well, what with the stove fan on, the refrigerator humming, and the microwave dinging, I guess I hadn't heard him!) Anyway he knows that I mean the meal is ready; he just doesn't want to leave his pursuits of reading, TV, or computer. I feel like saying, as I did when the kids were young, "When I call you, I want you to come!"
There is a story in the Bible about young Samuel, who thought he heard Eli, the priest call him, and rose obediently from his sleeping mat. He immediately went to the priest, and said, "Here I am." (I Samuel 3:4). This happened three times, until Eli instructed him that if he heard the voice call him again, it was the Lord. This time, Samuel recognized it as being from God and received his instructions.
The Bible says in Romans 10:17, "So then faith cometh by hearing, and hearing by the word of God." The previous verses have taught that whosoever calls on the Lord will be saved, but first they must hear about him, and how shall they hear without a preacher? It goes on to say, "How beautiful are the feet of them that preach the gospel." Well, my preacher husband is probably in there studying his Bible, hearing from God, so I guess I'll give him some slack. That is the most important hearing, after all!
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