Archive by Author

Getting More Than You Give~Part 2

22 Sep

My Take

DiVoran Lites

Author, Poet and ArtistVolunteers from large organization help a large number of people. But not everyone is in a position to do that. That makes me wonder if a seemingly smaller contribution has less importance. When I think of Denisha, I know the answer is a simple no.

Some members of Danisha’s family are in jail. Some have been shot. There’s not a lot of money in the family. Danisha, however has a job. She works hard, even though she has gone through multiple surgeries as the result of an automobile accident. Denisha seems to be the guardian angel of a family of cousins and sisters and their children. One girl-child is under guardianship with Danisha now. She has brought others to church for many years. Several of them have invited Christ into their lives.

My little Sunday School class has a different number of these children attending almost every Sunday. I like them a lot! They remind me of the child I was, and the kids I knew in our small, plain community in Colorado long ago. Danisha says that her grandmother brought her to church and her uncle who is an elder in our church included her in family get-togethers. She had her troubles as a young adult, but she came into the love of Christ and it made all the difference.

Danisha, often brings edible treats for our Sunday School refreshment time. A few Sundays ago she missed most of the church service to go after hamburgers for the seven kids who attended our class that day. Last Sunday she headed out for pizza. Before she left, she asked the children what kind of pizza they wanted. The verdict was: one pepperoni pizza and one cheese. We were all hungry and excited.

While we waited, we had rhythm band and singing. Then Mr. Lites prayed for them. Next as I searched through my store of books for the right story I came to a Jack Prelutsky book of poetry. “Oh, I hope this is, A Pizza the Size of the Sun, I thought. It turned it was not only the book, but the poem of the same name appears on the first page. I picked it up and read with great feeling about a great pizza while the children listened rapt and salivating. Then I recalled that this was a “lesson,” so I said, “God is even better than pizza!” It might sound a bit lame, but given the fervor in the room when pizza was mentioned, I thought the idea just might seep into their little minds and lodge permanently in their brains.

A lot of learning takes place on the woodsy play ground outside, so we went out there to play on the swings and wait some more. We learn sharing, kindness, love, obedience, and maybe a bit of race relations. When we first got there we found a few frogs the size of the my thumbnail jumping around. Nature is always a part of our curriculum so we looked them over and one of the boys picked one up. Finally Danisha came with the pizza confessing that she had eaten the missing sliver as she headed back to church. We sat at picnic tables and dug in. Yum! That pizza was delicious! The kids ate and ate, we were all happy, but I suspect that the person who got the most joy out of the experience was Danisha.

Yes, there are many different kinds of volunteers, from people who do wonderful things in big organizations and help a lot of people to those who work hard, take on a guardianship, and bring the little ones to Jesus just as He commanded. All kinds of volunteerism gets passed down, all kinds of roll-models are needed.

volunteer

 

 

Psalm 68:6 New Living Translation (NLT)

“God places the lonely in families;
he sets the prisoners free and gives them joy.

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My Husband…My Hero

21 Sep

SUNDAY MEMORIES

Judy Wills

JUDY

After the birth of our second child in 1971, we moved from Loring AFB, Maine, to San Antonio, Texas, where Fred would become an instructor at the Officer Training School (OTS) at Lackland AFB. Since our marriage, we had always lived in either apartments or government quarters. We felt it was time to own our first home. So we began looking at houses not too far from Lackland.

We didn’t actually have a realtor, but kept seeing signs for “Ray Ellison Homes” all around that area, so we checked them out. There was a subdivision of new homes there – within our price range – and we found one we liked. It wasn’t terribly large, but it had three bedrooms and TWO BATHROOMS!! WOW! We snapped it up.

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The bedroom windows in this house were high and long – narrow. They were high enough that we could hang a picture above our bed (no headboard). One night in 1972, about 2:00 a.m., we both were awakened by a bright light. We got up and looked out our bedroom window – and saw flames roaring from the garage in the house next to us! It took us a few seconds to recognize what was happening, then we swung into action. I called the fire department, then ran to get the girls. I was in such a state that I forgot to bring extra diapers for Janet! The firemen told us we had to leave the house, so we went to the neighbor’s house across the street.

In the meantime, Fred ran next door to the burning house. He began ringing the doorbell and pounding on the door. I heard him yelling “FIRE” several times. He woke them up. To his amazement – they ran back into the house to get “stuff” before leaving. They told us later that, while they usually left their bedroom doors open at night, they had each closed their doors that particular night, and so didn’t know their house was on fire.

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None of the family members were injured in the fire, while the entire house was destroyed. Fred suffered some burns on his forehead from blowing embers. After rousing the house members, he grabbed our garden hose and began spraying the side of our house, trying to save it from as much damage as possible. Some of our windows shattered, but we had the blinds closed, and so the shards were contained mostly in the carpet. We had about $500 damage to our house, including the soft water tank on that side of the house. But Culligan came and replaced it with no charge to us.

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It took until after daybreak for the fire to be under control. We were amused to see that some of the neighbors came out to retrieve their newspapers and found fire trucks and hoses in the street! They hadn’t heard or seen anything during the night! Heavy sleepers, huh?

I volunteered to help do some salvage. What amazed me was in the kitchen – the door of the dishwasher was completely mangled and warped. But under the top cabinets hung a roll of paper towels, completely untouched by the fire!

Two years later, the house on the OTHER side of us caught fire in the early morning. And we learned that, after we left San Antonio, the house two doors down from THAT one burned. Seems like it skipped every other house. We’re just glad ours was one of the “skipped” ones!

But Fred is my hero – thinking of the neighbors as he did.

 

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I Never Met a Pizza I Didn’t Like

15 Sep

My Take

DiVoran Lites

 

Author, Poet and ArtistTo celebrate our 57th wedding anniversary, Bill and I went out for pizza. Mama Rosa’s, where we had planned go, was closed for vacation so we schlepped on down to Kelsey’s in Port St. John. We had already celebrated twice, having normally scheduled meals with family members and calling them celebrations, but this was the real thing on the real day.

Bill took me for my first pizza when I was eighteen years old. The restaurant was on Central Blvd in Albuquerque. It was also where he took me for my first lobster. Then when he decided to ask for my hand in marriage he took me there again. I liked lobster fine, and I liked the T-bone steaks at a small diner where they only cost $2.00 a plate, but the love of pizza stayed with me for the rest of my life (so far.)

We did get married and our first month in California where Bill was going to school, we spent every penny we had with barely enough to pay the rent. We didn’t even have money for food. I think we spent it on movies or something equally frivolous. Anyhow, Bill’s friend drove out from New Mexico to visit and our mothers sent care packages. They knew we’d developed a passion for pizza so between them they sent five boxes of Appian Way pizza mix and a pizza pan to bake them on. We got by.

Later when I had a job with Magic Mirror Beauty Salons and Bill worked part time cleaning airplanes our favorite pizza palace was Sir pizza. I’d stop there after a hard Saturday on my feet, get a pizza with everything (except anchovies and green peppers), stop at Thrifty Mart for a bottle of Thunderbird, and we’d spend our Saturday evening watching our tiny black and white T. V. and munching away at our pizza. We loved the cowboy shows such as, “Rawhide,” and “Wagon Train,” and it was a lovely thing to look forward as we went to work Saturday morning. “See ya later, alligator, after while, crocodile.”

We started out eating a whole small pizza between us, but now all we can manage is half, which is great because that means we can stick it in the oven for fifteen minutes the next day and enjoy it all over again.

Listen, the reason we both look kind of funny in this picture is that I asked a man who was in front of us in the paying line to take the picture and he wasn’t sure what he was doing and he took one and it didn’t flash and Bill said take another one and we were both wondering whether he was going to be able to manage it or not. You can see we weren’t overly anxious, but then again who had time to smile with all that going on. We really did enjoy ourselves and are planning many more pizza times to come. We’ll try Mama Rosa’s again on my seventy-sixth birthday which is coming up soon. Y’all come. (You see we live in the South now, so I’ve taken on Southern talk.)

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Honoring My Grandparents ~ Ida and Marie Bowers

7 Sep

My Take

DiVoran Lites

Here’s a funny thing. Ira and Marie Bowers were married on September 6, 1914 which means this month marks the 100th anniversary of their union. Bill and I were married on September 6, 1957 and will be celebrating our 57th. Grandmother and Granddad were married for over sixty years and it looks as if Bill and I will make that milestone as well – we’re close now, anyway.

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I got to spend quite a lot of time with our grandparents. Throughout my childhood every summer I visited with them for a week. Grandmother wanted my brother and I to come separately because we fought too much when we were together. Sometimes I missed my family and our dog Brownie, but I wouldn’t trade the time with Marie and Ira for anything.

My first real memory of them was when I was somewhere between three and five years old and decided to take a walk. I’m sure I’d been taken around the block many times, but now that I was a “big girl” I could go on my own. At one point, I did feel a bit unsure of where I was, but I hadn’t crossed any streets so I kept going and ended up back at their big apartment house from where I had begun.

When I arrived back at the house there was a lot of agitation in the air. Apparently they thought I’d either been lost or kidnapped. It was a prison town, no one was really afraid, but there were certain things you adhered to in case someone escaped. Keeping an eye on your children was one of them. After grandmother discovered that I was all right, she told me to find granddad and tell him. Granddad was a man’s man, but he had a gentle side, and I knew it all my life. He was always gentle and quiet with me, never got angry or yelled or criticized, helped me stay out of trouble whenever he could AND when I found him standing in the big front bedroom where I usually slept, he was crying because he thought I was lost. That’s a pretty powerful message for a tot. I can see him now, tall and gray with his face in his hands.

Grandmother taught me so much. She let me vacuum, taught me how to wash windows and how to clean an oven with newspapers and ammonia. She let me walk to town with her, in and out of the bank, Penny’s, Rexall, and Red’s grocery. In Penney’s she taught me the names of all the beautiful fabrics. She was a hairdresser and she kept my hair nicely groomed, and made lovely clothes for me. She talked to me a lot and that was edifying too. When I was twelve she gave me her cowboys boots. They’d been members of the saddle-club and gone on long rides, but now they were giving it up and I got the boots. I loved them dearly and insisted on wearing them with everything.

Grandmother came from farming stock. She was the eldest of eleven children and always worked, even though later in life she was diagnosed with a congenital heart murmur. When her mother died she took in her youngest siblings who were close in age to her own boys, my dad and his brother.

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She had her own beauty salon, and she and granddad also invested in a Victorian house on a shaded street which they turned into a lovely apartment house.

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Granddad’s father was a horseman and also owned a general store. Granddad did all the repairs to his and grandmother’s house, took good care of the yard, and kept the car running. He was a guard at the penitentiary for many years. The camera swept over him in the movie, “Canon City,” which was about a prison break—part of his experiences too.

They were just my grandparents and I kind of lost touch with them in later years. I did try to write every week until the last of them was gone. Now, however hardly a day passes that I don’t remember something they taught me. I thank God for the love and the good influences they put into my life. I’d love to sit down with them now and have a wonderful visit. Someday that will happen.

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This picture doesn’t look too happy, but honestly I think she just didn’t have the energy for everything she did and a toddler was hard. She loved me as passionately as any grandmother loves her grandchildren which was with all her heart.

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Getting More Than You Give

1 Sep

My Take

DiVoran Lites

Author, Poet and ArtistThe Holy Bible, reminds us that when we give, God returns our gifts in such abundance that we can barely receive them all.

Lately, we’ve been hanging out with different kinds of volunteers, and we’ve seen for ourselves that those who give the most, get the most, not necessarily in material possessions, but in things that mean so much more, such as joy, peace, grace, and unexpected miracles.

Last Thursday, Bill and I attended a University of Central Florida (UCF) Alumni Volunteer awards banquet. I was honored to be asked to condense the bios that would be read at the ceremony. That allowed me to know the nominees better even though I had not met them. It gave an extra edge to my enjoyment of the evening. Of course, being a typical writer, I took mental notes of how I could do better next time.

The UCF mascot is a knight. When a graduate does something notable with his life, he can be nominated for the annual Notable Knight award and designation. Christine F., a nurse practitioner was one of the runners up. She travels from one facility to another tending to the needs of aging and post-surgical clients. She goes to bat for her patients — whatever they need. Bill C. the other runner up, took a central role in the modernization and refurbishment of the Launch Facilities at Kennedy Space Center. Notable Knight, 2014, is Mitch V. the man who changed the Space Coast’s reputation, helping students from all over America by putting on marathons and triathlons to take the place of other less than beneficial pursuits at spring break. Christine, Bill C. and Mitch all make community service an integral part of their lives.

Then there were the scholarships presented to students who excelled at leadership, community service and academics. This year’s nominees came from the fields of medicine and education, but it was apparent from reading the applications that they could do anything they set their minds to.

One graduate who had been awarded scholarships before, returned to thank the UCF Alumni for helping her get all the way through school to the place where she is now – working on her PhD Program. She will be serving the needs of abused children, a tribe she knows well, as she was once one of them.

The people at the ceremony were wonderful, not only the honorees, but also the members of the UCF Space Coast Alumni who raised funds, organized the attendees, interfaced with the caterer, and took care of all the red tape and details that come with event planning. They create and join in many other volunteer events during the year and having known some of them, I know they are truly blessed in return.

UCF copy

 

“Bring all the tithes (a tenth of our money and time) into the storehouse so there will be enough food in my Temple. If you do,” says the LORD of Heaven’s Armies, “I will open the windows of heaven for you. I will pour out a blessing so great you won’t have enough room to take it in! Try it! Put me to the test!” Malachi 3:10

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To Kill or Not to Kill

25 Aug

My Take

DiVoran Lites

 

Author, Poet and ArtistWhile Jay, the owner of the pest control company (a sweet, older gentleman, who has been around for a long time) was here, we asked him if he’d consider taking away the Cuban tree frog that lives in our shedlette and dispose of it for us, but he said regretfully he couldn’t. I didn’t hear the reason, he was talking to Bill then. But later he wanted to talk to me about it. He had answers but none of them would suffice.

“Throw a towel over it, catch it, and let it loose in the woods.

“Can’t do that, it’s an exotic.”

“There’s lots of woods around here.”

“It will breed and take over more territory.”

“Oh in that case it will have to be …” I wish I could recall his euphemism for killed.”

“Yes.”

We really shouldn’t let it live. Billy, my ecologist son, and I have been discussing for years what to do with it. Another man he knows has a system for getting rid of them. We discussed taking it to him, but my grandchildren begged us not to. We wouldn’t have anyway, that’s the big problem, really, we can’t kill things.

Known to take food and territory from native flora or fauna, an exotic is a plant or animal that came from somewhere else. Sometimes they prey on the natives which further diminishes their numbers. In this case, the Cuban tree frog is helping destroy our beautiful little green frogs with the gold racing stripes live here. When we moved to Florida in 1965 the green ones were all over our porch slab. They clung to the sliding glass patio doors like suction ornaments. People had to watch their heads when they stepped out because the frogs were known to drop unexpectedly. Now we rarely see one, it’s not all the Cuban tree frog’s fault, pollution has done its worst.

Because of the Endangered Species Act (ESA), The National Wildlife Federation has three categories for plants and animals, 1. Extinct, 2. Endangered, and 3. Threatened. There is also a designation called Critical Habitat. Without the proper places to live and eat, any animal can become f threatened.

I didn’t have to explain all of that to Jay. He knew what exotic meant. He knew about ecology. He said, “I see what you mean.” I’ll be interested to find out what you’ve decided to do.

We may leave the frog out there, he’s been out there since he was a quarter of the size he is now. The thing is, he keeps waking me up with his far-carrying wee-hours croaking. If it were steady I could probably ignore it, but it’s not. It’s a continual call that gets you fully awake and then it stops long enough for you to go back to sleep. Once you do that it starts again. I do have earplugs. And I do have a conscience about plotting murder in the night, so I end telling Jay I’ve decided the Cuban can stay. I wonder how long they live. He has every kind of protection in the shedlette — plenty of bugs to eat, and perhaps a green tree frog for dessert.

http://www.fws.gov/ENDANGERED/laws-policies/index.html

 

Frog

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Head Up and Locked

18 Aug

Author, Poet and ArtistBill is an airplane buff. We have a standard joke when someone isn’t paying attention. “He’s got his head up and locked,” we say. The saying is taken from faulty landings where the retractable tires don’t come down to support the plane when it lands. It’s a malfunction that can, and usually does, cause a disaster.

This morning, friends from our church needed a ride to the doctor. The pastor usually hauls people around, but he had conflicting appointments. He would have asked Bill to take them, but Bill was out of town, so he asked me. He wanted to give me directions to their home on Pine St., but we had taken them home once and I knew where it was. Besides, years ago, I drove to Pine frequently because a woman in my Sunday School class lived there. But as I drove without coming to Pine, I realized something was wrong.

My friends were going to a drop-in clinic and didn’t have an actual appointment, so I didn’t panic. I decided to call the friend who used to live on Pine. She said I had to take a street with another name in order to get to Pine. I don’t know what else she might have been going to say, though, because I cut her off, saying, “Oh yes, I have a perfect picture of it in my mind, thanks, goodbye.” So I went back up the road looking for the street she mentioned. I saw the street I remembered, but the name was different. I turned anyway and then turned again. Nope it wasn’t Pine. I knew though that I was within inches. I asked a workman that looked sort of like my grandson, and he was kind enough to look it up on his GPS. He showed me that I had turned one block too soon.

Finally, we made it to the doctor. And what did I learn from the experience? I learned that I have a bad habit of knowing I know things when I don’t know at all. I’m praying that Jesus the Christ, Jesus the Way, the TRUTH and the Life, will wipe out all the thoughts that I think are right and show me His way. One of my most fervent prayers is that He will continue to remind me that in order to know I must not assume that I know, I must ask. I think today will be a great reminder and although I’m not proud of myself, I thank Him for it.

keep asking

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The Book Barn of Beulah Colorado

12 Aug

Sometimes a letter or email turns into a great blog. Today’s post is one of those.-Onisha

 

Loved this letter from my friend, Patricia Franklin, who lives in Colorado. I thought you’d like it too, so we got permission to share. It’s a book lover’s joy-DiVoran
Hi DiVoran,
Just had to tell you about our  Sunday afternoon drive today.  We drove up to the little  mountain town of Beulah in the foothills of the Wet Mountains. It has one main street that is about two blocks long with a coffee shop and a general store. We went into the general store and went to the lower level which is a little antique store. We wandered beulah General Storethrough there looking at all the things I remember as a child, and also hoping to find a couple of items to replace some that we broke, but still were using up until that time. Ha!  Not finding anything, we had a nice conversation with the owner.
We were also looking for an old book for a friend of ours.  She did not have it, but told us to go to the Book Barn, which was just this side of the Coffee Shop. She said “People leave their used books there and the proceeds go to the school… hard backs 50 cents and paperbacks are 25 cents. You just put the money in the knothole.”  I was intrigued by that comment and we drove on up the street to the Coffee Shop .
There were a couple old gents sitting out front of the Coffee Shop.  We stopped and asked them where the Book Barn was.  One of them said, “It is right behind you.”  I looked at a little old shed behind me by the side of the road and said “Is that it?”  He said, “That’s it.”  … and something to the effect of “You might not both fit in there at the same time.”  We backed our car up and parked right beside the colorful little shed that had the door wide open.  We both got out of the car and walked into the 6′ x 8′ shed. No one was in attendance. All sides were lined with bookshelves to the ceiling, which were filled with books of all kinds… not in any particular order, with boxes of books on the floor.  Being the book lover that I am, we both looked through the books, having  to squeeze past each other in the aisle.  We did not find the book we were looking for.  I saw some great books, but I have so many right now, that I did not get any, although I wanted to just to put the money in the old knothole by the side of the door.  I immediately thought of you and said to myself “DiVoran would love this little Book Barn.”  So I had to tell you about it as soon as I got home.
Need to get dinner on!
   Love, P
The book they were looking for was Colorado Wildflowers, Volumn 2, The Mountain flowers by Guennel. It is on the Internet, but it’s beyond the price the friend can pay. If you have a copy you don’t want or need let us know and we’ll see that they get it.
DiVoran

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One Person Poetry Fair

11 Aug

My Take

DiVoran Lites

Author, Poet and ArtistI have been enjoying my IPod for a lot of different things. I especially like to listen to poetry and I’ve bought some from Audible. I am, however, greedy for more so I kept searching in my bumbling way for more poems to listen to. I especially wanted the more up-to-date poets, but not what they call the modern ones because as you know, the modern ones, such as T. S. Eliot, even though I like him too, are really not very up-to-date.

I’ve known about the Poetry Foundation, and when I entered audible poetry in the Google search bar they came up. I looked the website over, but still didn’t see how to get spoken poems onto my IPod, so I contacted them by email. A nice man wrote back and suggested I get their podcasts on ITunes. I finally managed to figure out how to do that and now I’ve got a bunch! I subscribed to all the Poetry Foundation podcasts free and downloaded the archives of those podcasts as well. I put them on playlists, and today I started listening to poetry to my heart’s desire. I have seven plus hours worth, many in the poet’s own voices, and more to come. I’ve struck gold!

Listening to a wonderful poem gives you a similar feeling similar to listening to a transcendent piece of music. Poems give insights and epiphanies, two of my favorite brain candies. Even though it was a hot day and I had a mile to go, I listened on my walk and was exhilarated with what I heard. The one that sticks with me most from today is: “Monet Refuses the Operation,” by Lisel Mueller. I may have liked that one best because I like to paint too.

Anyhow, now I’ve got poems, and I’ll be receiving more as the podcasts come out. I’ve got discussions of poems, I’m sure to learn something from them. What else can I say, I’m rejoicing, thanking God and all those who make it possible and in general just very happy and satisfied with the first day of my one person poetry fair.

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The Art of Living the Bible

4 Aug

My Take

DiVoran Lites

Author, Poet and ArtistAt one time in history it was essential that educated people knew and understood the Bible, especially writers. It is still necessary for Christian writers because we are teachers whether we think of ourselves that way or not.

We can get anything from the Bible we want. If we’re militant, the military is there. If we regularly stress with too much work, we can find more work and pressure in the Bible. If we’re tired of driving our lives in the fast lane, we can find peace on almost every page of the Bible. It’s all in how we perceive it.

In addition, we can find various ways, to read the Bible. Seminary students must study the Bible as a textbook, a history book, a literature book, and a language book, but as open-minded writers, we are free to read it any way we want, especially if we ask the Spirit of Christ to guide us into understanding.

This is my favorite way to utilize its wisdom at this time in my life.

Every year I buy a small, page-a-day Bible verse calendar, and each day I tear off the page and splack it to a new journal page. I then use it as a prompt. I get out a Bible and write out the verses using four criteria.

  1. Write from the point of view of the author, which is God, not man.
  2. Write in the present tense. For instance if it says, I am going to bless you, write, I bless you now.
  3. Don’t dwell on descriptions of sin. Jesus has already atoned for our sins and shortcomings. We’re interested now in going ahead with Him.
  4. Write down things that expand the passage to your satisfaction. (Judge these things against the rest of the Bible.)

In this way, I receive revelation and insight and welcome many joyful surprises. Here’s a sample from Ecclesiastes 3:11. This book of the Bible tells repeatedly how futile it is to live out of our own intellect instead of following the Spirit of Christ.

My Beloved Child, I made everything beautiful for its time. One flower, one butterfly, one tree—although impermanent, is beautiful in itself–nothing added. So are you. Love and work are my gifts to you.

Stop trying to fix the past or re-live the good times. Stop Worrying about the future. Nothing your imagination makes up is going to happen, but if something seemingly bad happens, you won’t have known about it in advance. Relax, do your jobs, always try to love and forgive. “One handful of peaceful repose is worth two fistfuls of worried work.” (Direct quotation)

Here’s another quotation, this one from artist advocate, Jill Badonsky from her book, The Muse is in. “Everything in life is art. From how you walk and how you smile at a stranger to how you love someone and the way you choose to feel. It’s art.”

2 Timothy 3:14 in The Message says:

There’s nothing like the written Word of God for showing you the way to salvation through faith in Christ Jesus. Every part of Scripture is God-breathed and useful one way or another—showing us truth, exposing our rebellion, correcting our mistakes, training us to live God’s way. Through the Word, we are put together and shaped up for the tasks God has for us.

What is your protocol for absorbing the Word of God these days?

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