"Mom, did you see the link to the video I put on your e-mail?" my son, Jamie, asked when my phone rang last night. I hadn't, but when I checked it wasn't there. He attempted to send it again without success, so finally he took remote control of my computer and put the link on facebook. He really wanted me to see this! He said it was of 6-year-old Anne-Marie's reading comprehension skills.
I was enjoying the antics of my granddaughters as they bounced on the bed saying something, but my volume wouldn't come on, so I didn't hear a word of what they said. I called Jamie back, and he adjusted my volume. It seemed their mother, Tammy, was holding a white board off camera with a sentence printed on it for Anne-Marie to read. The kindergartner peered at the words doubtfully, sounding out the letters, finally saying, "That doesn't make sense!"
By bits and pieces, I understood it was a message about Maddie, the three-year-old, being the big sister. Anne-Marie didn't get it, and neither did I for a minute. "How did you get to be the big sister?" Mommy asked Anne-Marie, to which she responded, "I was born first." "How would Maddie get to be the big sister?" She was clueless, but by this time I was yelling the news to Howard.
"I would have to have a baby, or adopt, right?" her mother coached her, "so what would I do?"
"Adopt?" Anne-Marie answered.
"No! I'm going to have a baby!" Tammy said. Their firstborn's eyes grew wide with incredulity, then she exploded into screaming, laughing and jumping on the bed.
"Maddie, did you hear me? We're going to get a little baby!" Tammy told "the baby." Maddie shook her head, and exclaimed, "No!" burying her face against her mother. She was held tight and comforted while they all laughed.
What a dramatic announcement! Leave it to Jamie for a witty way to let me know their news. When Maddie was expected, I found out by a picture he sent of Anne-Marie wearing a t-shirt with the words, Big Sister, across the front. Whose big sister?, I remember thinking, before I let out a cry of realization!
Monday is Jamie's birthday. I sent him a card yesterday, but nothing I could send could compare with his birthday news! I congratulated him and said I hoped it would be a boy. "You deserve a boy," I said. He assured me he knew raising a boy would be different, because he'd been around his friend's sons a lot. "No! You haven't raised a "Jamie!" I teased. "You have to know what I went through!"
Well, whether it's a little Jamie or another wonderful daughter, I am blessed to still be getting not only great-grandchildren, but grandchildren! "The blessings of the Lord, it maketh rich, and he addeth no sorrow with it," Proverbs 10:22.
Friday, November 30, 2012
Thursday, November 29, 2012
Preparations
I've been opening presents all day! Early Christmas? No, just digging into decorations and finding treasures I'd forgotten about or misplaced since our move last year. I plan to keep my decorating to a minimum, but I had to do the fireplace mantel, so I was delighted when I opened the right box containing the red felt scalloped mantel cover with the ball fringe trim. The words, Tis the Season, are embroidered in white satin in large, graceful letters across the front.
That was the perfect backdrop for my favorite nativity set. What a humble feeling I had unwrapping the lowly cow and mended donkey. Not for the animals' sake, but for the humble beginning our Lord chose for His birth. The figurines of the young parents, awed wisemen, and the shepherd boy carrying a lamb were all representative of the Christmas story. They needed illumination, though, and rather than dig through more boxes, I picked up a couple of strings of lights at the dollar store, along with some greenery to put around the mirror. The tiny white lights give just the right glow and highlight the faces of the delicate figures.
A big red bow over the mirror matches the one on my china cabinet. I held my breath climbing on a stepstool to affix things out of my reach. My husband is under the weather, so aside from helping me bring things from the basement, he left me on my own. It isn't perfect, but I think the overall effect is charming.
In another box, I discovered my decorative wooden sleigh with the metal runners and curved handle. The graceful lines are reminiscent of workmanship of bygone days. I filled it with a beribboned ornament covered in angels, and three glittery, puffed, mesh bags with drawstring ribbons, hinting of Santa's bounty. It sits upon a red chenille throw draped on the corner of a tall pub-style table with massive legs.
I put my skinny, pre-lit Christmas tree in the dining room this year. It doesn't require further decoration, but I found a string of cranberry-colored beads that look pretty on it, as well a roll of gold mesh ribbon that encircles it now. Miniature-wreath picture frames unearthed today holding long ago family photos hung on the tree complete the look I wanted. Balancing the size of the small tree is a copper tub filled with gorgeous poinsettia and holly placed on a small, rustic table beside it.
A homespun wall hanging on the back door, a quilted angel hooked over a cabinet knob, and a calico-and- plaid Santa with a yarn beard in decoupage-style paper-bag art adorns my vegetable bin. Tomorrow I will tackle the porch. I love to fill the garden wagon with giant pinecones, greenery, and red Christmas ribbon. Then I will be able to think about buying Christmas gifts in preparation for the celebration of the greatest Gift of all, the swaddled Baby laid in a rude manger, who would give, that we might live.
That was the perfect backdrop for my favorite nativity set. What a humble feeling I had unwrapping the lowly cow and mended donkey. Not for the animals' sake, but for the humble beginning our Lord chose for His birth. The figurines of the young parents, awed wisemen, and the shepherd boy carrying a lamb were all representative of the Christmas story. They needed illumination, though, and rather than dig through more boxes, I picked up a couple of strings of lights at the dollar store, along with some greenery to put around the mirror. The tiny white lights give just the right glow and highlight the faces of the delicate figures.
A big red bow over the mirror matches the one on my china cabinet. I held my breath climbing on a stepstool to affix things out of my reach. My husband is under the weather, so aside from helping me bring things from the basement, he left me on my own. It isn't perfect, but I think the overall effect is charming.
In another box, I discovered my decorative wooden sleigh with the metal runners and curved handle. The graceful lines are reminiscent of workmanship of bygone days. I filled it with a beribboned ornament covered in angels, and three glittery, puffed, mesh bags with drawstring ribbons, hinting of Santa's bounty. It sits upon a red chenille throw draped on the corner of a tall pub-style table with massive legs.
I put my skinny, pre-lit Christmas tree in the dining room this year. It doesn't require further decoration, but I found a string of cranberry-colored beads that look pretty on it, as well a roll of gold mesh ribbon that encircles it now. Miniature-wreath picture frames unearthed today holding long ago family photos hung on the tree complete the look I wanted. Balancing the size of the small tree is a copper tub filled with gorgeous poinsettia and holly placed on a small, rustic table beside it.
A homespun wall hanging on the back door, a quilted angel hooked over a cabinet knob, and a calico-and- plaid Santa with a yarn beard in decoupage-style paper-bag art adorns my vegetable bin. Tomorrow I will tackle the porch. I love to fill the garden wagon with giant pinecones, greenery, and red Christmas ribbon. Then I will be able to think about buying Christmas gifts in preparation for the celebration of the greatest Gift of all, the swaddled Baby laid in a rude manger, who would give, that we might live.
Wednesday, November 28, 2012
Outdoor World
The ducks were beautiful landing on Greg's pond today when we went to feed our chickens. I was concentrating on the ones floating and bobbing like little Mallard decoys when a great V of them swept in with wings stretched high as they touched down on the sparkling water. They were followed by a second wave of ducks, the first scattering out of sight to the far reaches of the pond.
Howard walked down the hill to the edge of the water for a better view, but I was content to watch through the car windows on this bright, chilly afternoon. Climbing back up the grassy slope, when he got to the car my husband remarked, "I think I found a good place where we could sit and fish." We had heard the large pond/small lake was plentifully stocked with bass. I can see fishing equipment is in our future!
The rustic, autumnal view was pulling me out of the car's confines. "Let's walk over to the rocks," I suggested. There were slabs and ledges of rocks behind a weathered old shed that formed a slight cliff tumbled with other boulders below. It reminded me of "The Big Rocks," an area behind our house where I played as a child with my siblings in eastern Oklahoma. Jutting out of the mountain and verdant with a carpet of moss, the rocks made a perfect playhouse, lookout tower, or dreaming spot for our childish fantasies.
"This is therapeutic for me," Howard said, gesturing expansively at the peaceful scene below. We watched a burro chasing a goat on the neighbor's property at the far side of the pond, the bucolic sounds of braying and baa-ing wafting across the water. A lazy wisp of smoke curled from the ashes of fallen trees and branches burned in an ongoing clean-up project by our son's family.
I was noticing the many small cedars and evergreens that were revealed by the seasonal thinning of leaves and undergrowth. Snuggled next to a tree trunk, growing at the edge of an old shed, or rooted firmly in the cracks of a rock, they were Christmas trees in the making. Since my sense of smell has gone south, I had Howard pinch a lacy, green frond to release the pungent spiciness I knew was there. He said it smelled like Christmas.
The blue of a jay flashed through the bare limbs of a giant oak, a Christmas ornament in the near-December wood. We pulled our jackets closer and headed back to town, refreshed by nature and the non-commercial, unmaterialistic world that God gives us free of charge if we just take the time to notice.
Howard walked down the hill to the edge of the water for a better view, but I was content to watch through the car windows on this bright, chilly afternoon. Climbing back up the grassy slope, when he got to the car my husband remarked, "I think I found a good place where we could sit and fish." We had heard the large pond/small lake was plentifully stocked with bass. I can see fishing equipment is in our future!
The rustic, autumnal view was pulling me out of the car's confines. "Let's walk over to the rocks," I suggested. There were slabs and ledges of rocks behind a weathered old shed that formed a slight cliff tumbled with other boulders below. It reminded me of "The Big Rocks," an area behind our house where I played as a child with my siblings in eastern Oklahoma. Jutting out of the mountain and verdant with a carpet of moss, the rocks made a perfect playhouse, lookout tower, or dreaming spot for our childish fantasies.
"This is therapeutic for me," Howard said, gesturing expansively at the peaceful scene below. We watched a burro chasing a goat on the neighbor's property at the far side of the pond, the bucolic sounds of braying and baa-ing wafting across the water. A lazy wisp of smoke curled from the ashes of fallen trees and branches burned in an ongoing clean-up project by our son's family.
I was noticing the many small cedars and evergreens that were revealed by the seasonal thinning of leaves and undergrowth. Snuggled next to a tree trunk, growing at the edge of an old shed, or rooted firmly in the cracks of a rock, they were Christmas trees in the making. Since my sense of smell has gone south, I had Howard pinch a lacy, green frond to release the pungent spiciness I knew was there. He said it smelled like Christmas.
The blue of a jay flashed through the bare limbs of a giant oak, a Christmas ornament in the near-December wood. We pulled our jackets closer and headed back to town, refreshed by nature and the non-commercial, unmaterialistic world that God gives us free of charge if we just take the time to notice.
Tuesday, November 27, 2012
Geri-A-Tricks
"Wow! We made it!" I said, as we congratulated ourselves and thanked God as our plane landed after our trip to Georgia. We had successfully maneuvered our way through the Atlanta airport, security, lightning-speed tram/trains and a longer-than-expected flight ("Headwinds," the attendant explained).
We picked up our luggage and glanced around. I saw a sign that said something about a shuttle, but Howard said we would catch it outside. The north wind hit us like a sharp knife when we emerged from the revolving airport door. I was glad for my leather coat, which was too much when we boarded in the milder temperatures of the south. We bravely headed for the shuttle shelter across the traffic lane.
We approached one bus, but it was for hotel guests. Then Howard motioned me to follow him to a Park and Ride shuttle. The driver helped us on, then seeing the parking ticket we had, told us it was for the south parking lot. Puzzled, we struck out to find our car. The ticket said it was in 1244, but where was that? The sea of cars seemed unfamiliar. Finally we saw the numbers 11-12 at the end of a row of automobiles.
"Can you tell me where 1244 is?" my husband asked a man near a car. He shook his head and said this was Thrifty Car Rental, and pointed us toward the distant end of the next lot. Pulling our luggage and braving the icy winds, we wandered in and out the rows. I yelled at Howard to try the key pad signal, but he yelled back that he had been doing that. He tried again, and we heard the welcome electronic beep!
He was calling something else from several feet behind me, and I realized with alarm that he was saying he lost the parking ticket! "The wind must have blown it out of my hand!" he shouted. It was useless to search for it in this gale. At the exit, he explained, but the attendant was adamant that it would cost $15 per day for a lost ticket, and we had been gone a week! We expected to pay only $6! At our (my) strong protests and Howard's diplomacy, she agreed to check with her boss and left her booth to confer with someone in the booth on the other side of us.
Reviewing our plane ticket receipts and recalculating the charges, she came up with $9 for each of the 8 days we had been gone (our departure was at 11:00 a.m., and it was now 5 p.m., costing an extra day). Relieved, but still upset, I asked, "Why wouldn't they let us ride the shuttle?"
"Because that's for Park and Ride! It's only six dollars!" she said. "You are in Long Term Parking!" O-oh! We thought that was where we had parked! It had been a couple of years since we used the Wichita airport and we had parked in the wrong lot!
We arrived home safely at last, and I was able to laugh about it when I told my daughter over the phone, "We are not to be trusted!" She agreed and said she worries about us. All I could think of was, "Headwinds."
We picked up our luggage and glanced around. I saw a sign that said something about a shuttle, but Howard said we would catch it outside. The north wind hit us like a sharp knife when we emerged from the revolving airport door. I was glad for my leather coat, which was too much when we boarded in the milder temperatures of the south. We bravely headed for the shuttle shelter across the traffic lane.
We approached one bus, but it was for hotel guests. Then Howard motioned me to follow him to a Park and Ride shuttle. The driver helped us on, then seeing the parking ticket we had, told us it was for the south parking lot. Puzzled, we struck out to find our car. The ticket said it was in 1244, but where was that? The sea of cars seemed unfamiliar. Finally we saw the numbers 11-12 at the end of a row of automobiles.
"Can you tell me where 1244 is?" my husband asked a man near a car. He shook his head and said this was Thrifty Car Rental, and pointed us toward the distant end of the next lot. Pulling our luggage and braving the icy winds, we wandered in and out the rows. I yelled at Howard to try the key pad signal, but he yelled back that he had been doing that. He tried again, and we heard the welcome electronic beep!
He was calling something else from several feet behind me, and I realized with alarm that he was saying he lost the parking ticket! "The wind must have blown it out of my hand!" he shouted. It was useless to search for it in this gale. At the exit, he explained, but the attendant was adamant that it would cost $15 per day for a lost ticket, and we had been gone a week! We expected to pay only $6! At our (my) strong protests and Howard's diplomacy, she agreed to check with her boss and left her booth to confer with someone in the booth on the other side of us.
Reviewing our plane ticket receipts and recalculating the charges, she came up with $9 for each of the 8 days we had been gone (our departure was at 11:00 a.m., and it was now 5 p.m., costing an extra day). Relieved, but still upset, I asked, "Why wouldn't they let us ride the shuttle?"
"Because that's for Park and Ride! It's only six dollars!" she said. "You are in Long Term Parking!" O-oh! We thought that was where we had parked! It had been a couple of years since we used the Wichita airport and we had parked in the wrong lot!
We arrived home safely at last, and I was able to laugh about it when I told my daughter over the phone, "We are not to be trusted!" She agreed and said she worries about us. All I could think of was, "Headwinds."
Sunday, November 25, 2012
The Take-Away
"There's a Cracker Barrel!" I exclaimed to my daughter after church this morning. She thought we would have to wait until we got closer to her home to eat there, but here was one right off the interstate near her church in Marietta. It was busy, though, and a little smaller than most of these old country store restaurants. We didn't mind at all, since we were in no hurry and spent the waiting time browsing the Christmas items in the store.
This was so festive! Since we had flown on this visit, we missed the restaurants along the road, and this one was perfect with its massive fireplace and welcoming, roaring fire. "Look at these, Mom," Amy said, pointing to a rack of capes, sweaters, and fur-trimmed jackets.
"This is gorgeous!" I exclaimed, pulling a red sweater-wrap from the rack. I tried it on, loved it, then reluctantly put it back. Everything was so tempting! From irresistible things for new great-grandbabies and toys for toddlers to fleecy, plaid Christmas robes for teens. It's a good thing they called us to eat when they did.
"Let's go wait in the car," Amy said after we had eaten, steering me to the door while my husband waited in the line at the register. I figured she was tired, so we went out into the brisk air and settled into our seats. Pretty soon, Howard emerged, followed by our grandson Reid, who was carrying a large gift bag. "I think Reid has something for you and Dad," Amy smiled. Right in the top of the bag was the red sweater!
"Merry Christmas, Mimi and Pa-Pa," Reid (who had just gotten a new job), said as Howard pulled out a coffee mug for him and a jar of country apple butter. "It's a little early, but I just wanted to give it to you while you were here," he grinned. We were so surpised and pleased at our thoughtful grandson! We hadn't seen him much this week, since he'd been so busy working during the Thanksgiving holiday.
We will be going home in the morning, so we have this afternoon to rest and reflect on an amazing week. Not only had our kids from North Carolina and our grandson from Tulsa joined us, but our daughter from Tennessee along with her little girl, 9-year-old Mackenzie, and our new-mommy granddaughter, Bethany, with baby Jaxon, almost 3 months. Accompanying them was 19-year-old grandson Zach, a reassuring presence on the four-hour drive.
We had a wonderful time the last night of their visit watching a Thanksgiving video of our family, made 15 years ago. Several of the grandchildren hadn't even been born then, and everyone was trim and young with firm jaw lines. What great memories!
Black Friday bargains lured several of the adventurous among us out at midnight on Thursday, and Friday we all piled in vehicles for a long ride into the country to explore some of the 26,000 acres of Berry College, the largest campus in the world, with its grist mill and 45 foot water wheel, plenteous deer, and stone cathedrals.
I guess I'm ready for a short nap with pleasant dreams on the flight home, but first I have to figure how to get two jars of muscadine jelly that Amy made, and a jar of apple butter on the plane tomorrow!
This was so festive! Since we had flown on this visit, we missed the restaurants along the road, and this one was perfect with its massive fireplace and welcoming, roaring fire. "Look at these, Mom," Amy said, pointing to a rack of capes, sweaters, and fur-trimmed jackets.
"This is gorgeous!" I exclaimed, pulling a red sweater-wrap from the rack. I tried it on, loved it, then reluctantly put it back. Everything was so tempting! From irresistible things for new great-grandbabies and toys for toddlers to fleecy, plaid Christmas robes for teens. It's a good thing they called us to eat when they did.
"Let's go wait in the car," Amy said after we had eaten, steering me to the door while my husband waited in the line at the register. I figured she was tired, so we went out into the brisk air and settled into our seats. Pretty soon, Howard emerged, followed by our grandson Reid, who was carrying a large gift bag. "I think Reid has something for you and Dad," Amy smiled. Right in the top of the bag was the red sweater!
"Merry Christmas, Mimi and Pa-Pa," Reid (who had just gotten a new job), said as Howard pulled out a coffee mug for him and a jar of country apple butter. "It's a little early, but I just wanted to give it to you while you were here," he grinned. We were so surpised and pleased at our thoughtful grandson! We hadn't seen him much this week, since he'd been so busy working during the Thanksgiving holiday.
We will be going home in the morning, so we have this afternoon to rest and reflect on an amazing week. Not only had our kids from North Carolina and our grandson from Tulsa joined us, but our daughter from Tennessee along with her little girl, 9-year-old Mackenzie, and our new-mommy granddaughter, Bethany, with baby Jaxon, almost 3 months. Accompanying them was 19-year-old grandson Zach, a reassuring presence on the four-hour drive.
We had a wonderful time the last night of their visit watching a Thanksgiving video of our family, made 15 years ago. Several of the grandchildren hadn't even been born then, and everyone was trim and young with firm jaw lines. What great memories!
Black Friday bargains lured several of the adventurous among us out at midnight on Thursday, and Friday we all piled in vehicles for a long ride into the country to explore some of the 26,000 acres of Berry College, the largest campus in the world, with its grist mill and 45 foot water wheel, plenteous deer, and stone cathedrals.
I guess I'm ready for a short nap with pleasant dreams on the flight home, but first I have to figure how to get two jars of muscadine jelly that Amy made, and a jar of apple butter on the plane tomorrow!
Friday, November 23, 2012
Gratitude
"Let's go to the covered bridge!" I suggested. We were relaxing after a long breakfast and warm conversation, then the mixing, chopping and stirring of Thanksgiving dinner preparations. Everything was in readiness now, and the gorgeous November day was beckoning us outside. We needed to sharpen our appetites for the feast ahead and for the roasting turkey that was filling the air with its delicious aroma.
"Great! I'll be right down," our son Mark said as he hurried upstairs for his shoes. This was their first trip to his sister's house in Georgia, and we were eager to show them around. Soon most of us were piled into two vehicles for the short ride down to the river; we rode with Mark and our daughter-in-law, Rhonda, while the younger set followed in the pickup being driven by our 18-year-old grandson, Reid.
The rustic, hand-pegged bridge built over a hundred years ago was the perfect foil for the scenic display before us: the recreated village, the country store, and the meandering road through the woods. "This is gorgeous!" Rhonda exclaimed as we entered the bridge's dimmed interior with the shafts of sunlight coming through. Looking down through the wide spaces in the bridge floor, she suddenly wailed, "My sunglasses!" as they slipped off her head into the swirling water below. How unexpected! We felt bad, but she laughingly said she had lost lots of sunglasses.
Getting thirsty, we decided to drive into town, since the little store was closed where one could usually sit and enjoy a bottle of pop. Our guests wanted to see Cartersville, anyway, so we chatted and drove behind the kids ahead of us. Suddenly we heard gasps and exclamations from the front seat and peered to see a pickup truck turn straight into the path of our grandchildren! They had swerved just in time! All in a split second the unexpected had happened and the unthinkable narrowly averted!
"What just happened?" I exclaimed when I reached them on the phone. They said a girl coming from the opposite direction had made a left turn right in front of them. Our older grandson, Chase, told his mother when I handed the phone to her that, thanks to Reid's skillful driving, the accident had been avoided. Thank You, Lord!
We went on to walk around a little of the old town district, got our drink and headed home. As we gathered around our Thanksgiving table, we had much to thank God for, as our minister son voiced in his heartfelt prayer of thanks and blessing. More than the bridge was covered, we realized, acknowledging the safety of God's hand.
"Great! I'll be right down," our son Mark said as he hurried upstairs for his shoes. This was their first trip to his sister's house in Georgia, and we were eager to show them around. Soon most of us were piled into two vehicles for the short ride down to the river; we rode with Mark and our daughter-in-law, Rhonda, while the younger set followed in the pickup being driven by our 18-year-old grandson, Reid.
The rustic, hand-pegged bridge built over a hundred years ago was the perfect foil for the scenic display before us: the recreated village, the country store, and the meandering road through the woods. "This is gorgeous!" Rhonda exclaimed as we entered the bridge's dimmed interior with the shafts of sunlight coming through. Looking down through the wide spaces in the bridge floor, she suddenly wailed, "My sunglasses!" as they slipped off her head into the swirling water below. How unexpected! We felt bad, but she laughingly said she had lost lots of sunglasses.
Getting thirsty, we decided to drive into town, since the little store was closed where one could usually sit and enjoy a bottle of pop. Our guests wanted to see Cartersville, anyway, so we chatted and drove behind the kids ahead of us. Suddenly we heard gasps and exclamations from the front seat and peered to see a pickup truck turn straight into the path of our grandchildren! They had swerved just in time! All in a split second the unexpected had happened and the unthinkable narrowly averted!
"What just happened?" I exclaimed when I reached them on the phone. They said a girl coming from the opposite direction had made a left turn right in front of them. Our older grandson, Chase, told his mother when I handed the phone to her that, thanks to Reid's skillful driving, the accident had been avoided. Thank You, Lord!
We went on to walk around a little of the old town district, got our drink and headed home. As we gathered around our Thanksgiving table, we had much to thank God for, as our minister son voiced in his heartfelt prayer of thanks and blessing. More than the bridge was covered, we realized, acknowledging the safety of God's hand.
Tuesday, November 20, 2012
Safe Landing
"I'm over there! I'm over there!" I noticed a blonde girl gesturing from a seat across the aisle. My husband and I had just located our airline seats, and I realized I was in "F," his seat instead of mine, "E," and I was trying to switch places with him in the narrow space. I really would have preferred the window seat, but I hated for him to be squeezed in the middle. It's a good thing, too, because the girl had seat "D" and was soon seated next to me.
"Is this your first flight?" I asked her, after she pointed to the tray on the back of the seat and said, "What's that?" At least in her late teens, since she was on the way to New Orleans to see her boyfriend, the girl was nervous and full of questions, since it was indeed her first flight.
"What does it feel like when we take off?" she asked. I knew how she felt, remembering the first time I flew on a jet. She wanted to know how we would know when we were in the air, and I told her when we were going faster than she had ever gone on land before, we would become airborne. I remembered the sensation of being pulled back against the seat on take-off and told her about it.
"Before you know it, we'll be in the clouds," I remarked, to which she exclaimed, "Oh, we get to see the clouds?" She didn't see them much, though, since she donned sunglasses and said she didn't want to look out the window. She said she would try to sleep, confiding she was on anxiety medicine as she pulled the bottle from her purse.
Just then, Howard nudged me, saying "Read this! Read this!" He had been absorbed in a book of scriptures called, "God's Promises," and pointed out Jude 24, 25, where I read, "Now unto him that is able to keep you from falling, and to present you faultless before the presence of his glory with exceeding joy, To the only wise God our Saviour, be glory and majesty, dominion and power, both now and forever. Amen." I took the book and read the verses to the uneasy passenger.
"See, it says God will keep us from falling!" I said to her. She smiled tentatively and said wistfully, "I have a Bible with me, too, but it's in my suitcase. I'm taking it to my boyfriend." Before long, my seatmate wanted to know how it would feel when we landed, and I told her it usually was pretty smooth, but when the plane touched down she yelled, "Ow! You didn't tell me it would be so rough!"
"Well, every landing is different," I replied, although we'd actually had a smooth one, it was just that the initial bump caught her by surprise. As we were getting off, my husband handed her one of the little cards he'd had printed with the heading KEEP THIS, and in small print below: "Suitable for Pocket or Purse, when the pressure gets on today, pull it out and READ IT!"
It was from Deuteronomy 31:6 and says, "Be strong and of good courage, fear not, nor be afraid of them; for the Lord thy God, He it is that does go with you. He will not fail thee nor forsake thee." I trust the young girl will find comfort from the scripture that could guide her in finding life's Safe Landing.
"Is this your first flight?" I asked her, after she pointed to the tray on the back of the seat and said, "What's that?" At least in her late teens, since she was on the way to New Orleans to see her boyfriend, the girl was nervous and full of questions, since it was indeed her first flight.
"What does it feel like when we take off?" she asked. I knew how she felt, remembering the first time I flew on a jet. She wanted to know how we would know when we were in the air, and I told her when we were going faster than she had ever gone on land before, we would become airborne. I remembered the sensation of being pulled back against the seat on take-off and told her about it.
"Before you know it, we'll be in the clouds," I remarked, to which she exclaimed, "Oh, we get to see the clouds?" She didn't see them much, though, since she donned sunglasses and said she didn't want to look out the window. She said she would try to sleep, confiding she was on anxiety medicine as she pulled the bottle from her purse.
Just then, Howard nudged me, saying "Read this! Read this!" He had been absorbed in a book of scriptures called, "God's Promises," and pointed out Jude 24, 25, where I read, "Now unto him that is able to keep you from falling, and to present you faultless before the presence of his glory with exceeding joy, To the only wise God our Saviour, be glory and majesty, dominion and power, both now and forever. Amen." I took the book and read the verses to the uneasy passenger.
"See, it says God will keep us from falling!" I said to her. She smiled tentatively and said wistfully, "I have a Bible with me, too, but it's in my suitcase. I'm taking it to my boyfriend." Before long, my seatmate wanted to know how it would feel when we landed, and I told her it usually was pretty smooth, but when the plane touched down she yelled, "Ow! You didn't tell me it would be so rough!"
"Well, every landing is different," I replied, although we'd actually had a smooth one, it was just that the initial bump caught her by surprise. As we were getting off, my husband handed her one of the little cards he'd had printed with the heading KEEP THIS, and in small print below: "Suitable for Pocket or Purse, when the pressure gets on today, pull it out and READ IT!"
It was from Deuteronomy 31:6 and says, "Be strong and of good courage, fear not, nor be afraid of them; for the Lord thy God, He it is that does go with you. He will not fail thee nor forsake thee." I trust the young girl will find comfort from the scripture that could guide her in finding life's Safe Landing.
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