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Christmas Walk

5 Jan

My Take

DiVoran Lites

Author, Poet and ArtistHi, I feel as if I haven’t talked with anyone for quite a while. I’ve been sick, you know. I’m such a baby about that. I want to be treated like a princess and my prince indulges me. It’s the season for colds and I had the one that was going around. It started about the time we got home from our family Christmas celebration. I was so thankful that I felt good all that glorious, wondrous day.

We drove over to Orange City in the middle of the state where our son and his family live. The house was beautifully decorated for Christmas. Granddaughter, Lacey, grandson, Jacob, and his friend, Tiffany, from Missouri were waiting for company, along with mother and ad. Jacob and Tiffany met in Japan in their Japanese language class. She’s a lovely, quietly unassuming redhead, who loves Jacob’s puns. Our daughter, Renie and her husband, Ron, arrived soon after we did.

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There was more food than any nine people could eat in a day, though we did our best. It wasn’t exactly traditional Christmas fare, but started out as brunch and was enough to feed all of us throughout the day, including take-home.

Of course we enjoyed the chat as we seemed to ebb and flow around various conversational areas. It’s grand how pleasantly the time passes when you’re with people you love and enjoy.The best part was when we decided to go for a walk. We have always walked as a family. I have walked as a pastime for my whole life. I walked my children, and then the grandchildren.

We got in two cars and drove over to Blue Springs which is only five minutes from the house. It’s so charming the way a group of people can take a walk together. I don’t know how it evolves, but somehow a person will be walking and then, for a while, there’s someone coming alongside and they talk sweetly together about the things that matter. The next thing you know you’re walking with, or perhaps standing next to someone else looking over a rail into the water.

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We went to Blue Springs which is only about five minutes away from where Billy and Lisa live. As soon as we got to the head of the stream, up by the boil, we got to see some manatees. Those usually only come up into the spring on very cold days to stay warm, so I was really surprised to see them.

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Tiffany asked Bill about where the swamp was and Bill turned the question over to our son, Billy, the environmentalist, because she’d get a fuller, better answer from him. He pointed down at a pool of apparently standing water (it’s never really sill, though) and said, that’s a swamp. Then he explained a bit about what that meant. The water was clean, but tinted brown from the tannic acid from fallen leaves. Tiffany listened avidly as seems to be her way and then we all went on.

Tiffany is studying languages. She and Jacob met in Japan in their Japanese language class. They ended up climbing Mt. Fuji together. It was grueling, but they were together, so what did they care?

We who live close to the east coast left at about three-thirty in the afternoon. By the time we got home, I was hurting all over and yet thanking God that we’d had such a grand day. I rejoiced that I’d made it all the way through without even knowing I was sick.

For the next picture, we laid five phones on a big stump and asked some passing young men to take pictures. We had several volunteers and a lot of pictures.

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A Light Affliction

29 Dec

My Take

DiVoran Lites

Author, Poet and Artist

Pens

 

Purple pen, blue pen.

What do you write pen?

 

scan0102

 

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Cookie Party

22 Dec

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My Take

DiVoran Lites

Author, Poet and ArtistIt’s so frustrating to have plans for a day and get up late, and then you have other things to do such as feed the cats and cut your hair before you take a shower. I felt I needed to bake a second batch of cookies for the cookie exchange that night because the hostess asked for three dozen. I haven’t baked cookies in a long time and didn’t know if I still could, thus a trial run.

Anyhow, until I drank my coffee that morning and had a good chat with my daughter, I was feeling frustrated. Finally, I gave up my own plans, which majored on writing and went with the flow of the day.

When I got to the party that evening four women were already there. We had good conversation. No one hogged the floor; no one regaled us with a rant or complained about her lot in life. We were simpatico and as Christians, we were one. That always feels so good!

My cookies were a variation of the recipe on the back of the chocolate-chip bag. I always experiment with every recipe I try, so I thought I’d go for a crispy cookie with lots of nuts instead of a chewy one. Having wondered for fifty years why I must always use brown sugar, I decided to Google the question. In the past, I’d buy it, use enough for one recipe, and have the rest of the box on hand for as many years as it took to turn into solid rock. (I know there are ways to overcome that.) I googled it and the answer was that it was brown because of the molasses added to it and that’s what made the cookies more chewy. I didn’t buy brown sugar. For various reasons, which I won’t go into right now, the first batch was light golden, and raised, and the second batch was crisper, flatter, browner, and not so sweet. I liked the second batch best.

An hour and a half into the party two other guests arrived with their cookies. It was then that we heard all about the vagaries of cookie baking when you’re older, there aren’t any kids in the house, and you’ve given up baking cookies. One woman expressed all my anxieties in a funny soliloquy. Few recipes she found used brown sugar and she wasn’t going to make cookies without it. Her first batch, in spite of two ovens and two timers, came out burnt and as hard as hockey pucks. She threw those away. I went home when the party was just getting started. I wanted to get to bed early so I could get up today and write.

And guess what, here I am — writing. Oh, Happy Day.

Here is someone who had no plans for the day.

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Ps. 118:24 – This is the day that the Lord has made. I will rejoice and be glad in it.

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Christmas Miracles

15 Dec

My Take

DiVoran Lites

Last year after I got HD lenses implanted in my eyes to replace my natural lens, which had grown cataracts, the surgeon, Dr. Tresplacious said I had the eyesight of a fighter pilot.

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Well, I loved being able to see, especially colors. I told my friend, who had cataracts too, and the wonderful doctor removed hers. A month later she had to have a capsular haze removed. That’s when cataract material starts growing back. As far as I know it doesn’t often happen, but is not uncommon. She also had a shunt put in to treat the glaucoma diagnosed by this doctor. Essentially her eyesight had been saved.

My miracle is that I’ve gone a whole year without a capsular haze. Now it is happening to me, but the six months grace-time, tells me mine is growing more slowly. The scraping is a routine procedure. It doesn’t hurt because they have these great anesthetic drops they use.

In the doctor’s waiting room, I heard about another miracle. As a woman approached the chair next to mine, I admired her perfect appearance. I wanted to her how much I liked the way she looked. After all hadn’t Grandmother taught me to compliment strangers? This woman was a young seventy-five to eighty. Her hair was that beautifully striking black and white. She wore a white quilted jacket, black pants, and black pumps.

Of course, telling her how nice she looked started a conversation.

“This jacket won’t be warm enough when I go to the Northwest,” she said. She’s on her way to Washington State to be with her daughter and son-in-law. I asked if she had grandchildren.

“Yes, and I even have one great-grandchild.”

She asked if I had grandchildren. “They’re in college,” I nodded. “We saw them a good deal when they were growing up, but now they’re in college and it’s pretty much over. Can’t be helped, that’s just the way things are.

Then she told me about her miracle. He husband died on Father’s Day this year, and this will be her first Christmas without him. Even though I could see her heartbreak she kept insisting she was doing all right. No self-pity there. But here’s the miracle part. After her granddaughter had decided college wasn’t for her, she got a job at Disney. She needed a place to live until she could get out on her own, so she asked her grandmother if she could move in temporarily. They had a wonderful time together. Then the granddaughter got married, moved out and had a baby.

Next the grandson got a job at The Space Center and asked to live with her until he got settled closer to work. Now she has both grandchildren and a great grandchild on this coast instead of the other and sees them frequently.

“I expect my daughter and her husband will be moving here from Washington,” she said. Those are all the children they have.

We celebrated together. “Thanks for saying what you did about my appearance she said. It made my day.” Mine too.

You might like to look up Proverbs 31 in the Holy Bible and read it again. It’s a model of women for all ages.

Nut Cracker lake eola

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Do Frogs Come to Sunday School

8 Dec

My Take

DiVoran Lites

Author, Poet and ArtistI’ve had a couple of nature surprises in the past few days. Sometimes on the trail, I find things I’ve never seen before, leaves with perfectly round bumps, cocoons that look like fiber eggs, berries or plums growing on bushes.

Sunday on the playground the children came upon yet another frog.( I’ve been leery since a kid once threw a lizard on me and I had to sit there acting like it was nothing when I wanted to scream and jump and run. It’s not good for you to reign yourself in like that, it can give you bad breath.)

When the children find a creature I rush to supervise their investigations. One day they found a large green frog and were so enthralled with it that they wore it out in spite of repeated warnings to leave it alone,  The next time they found a toad, they announced it, but pretty much did leave it alone after the lecture they got last time.

But Sunday’s frog was the absolute monster frog in every way, and everyone was 1.tube slideinterested in him. He was a Cuban tree frog like the one we have in our tool shedlette and he had ensconced himself inside our tube slide, in a way that made the slide unusable. I wouldn’t get a tube slide again, I have always been afraid there would be something in it that we wouldn’t care for.

It did keep us entertains for quite some time. It was much bigger than the one at home and as ugly as all Cuban tree frogs are with their neutral color and their fat sucker-toes.

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The thing was everyone needed to see it and in order to do that you had to get down, by yourself, and crane up into the tube slide. Every time someone did that someone else had to poke whatever body part that  was sticking out and yell, “Boo.” It sounded as if we were having our Halloween party right then and there.

I really wanted to see it, but I knew if they said boo while I was leaning into the slide exit I would jump and bump my poor old head that has already been bumped so many times it’s a wonder I have any sense left at all. I begged the children not to say boo. Have I told you how big he was? He was about the size of a dessert bowl.

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The one on the left, maybe a bit smaller, but not much. I saw it for myself and I can hardly believe it.

Anyhow the kids didn’t poke me or say boo. They must love me a lot to do that for me. After I emerged, the boys kicked the plastic slide and hit it with sticks, even though they stopped every time I told them to stop.

The level of excitement was about the same as if someone had yelled big spider or snake.

Just a Snake
Banana Spider common to Florida

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Suddenly, from out of nowhere came this blood-curdling squeal that made all the wiggling and kicking cease immediately. We looked at each other with big eyes, our hair standing on end. The boys wanted mohawks, anyhow, now they had them. The squeal sounded like a warning or a distress cry. It came again, only not so authentic sounding this time. Tommy was at the top of the slide, it could well have been him calling down the slue. He confessed that some of it was. So I was stuck. Can frogs really squeal like that?

We do know that frogs (and many other critters) come to Sunday School. Now if you want to know whether they squeal like banshees or not, click here.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UCAFAbldfSg

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My Colonial States Trip Part 3

3 Dec

A Slice of Life

Bill Lites

Bill Stars Plane

My Boston friend had suggested I take the “T” Commuter train from outside the city to avoid traffic and parking problems. So I plugged the Braintree “T” Station address into my Garmin (We call her Greta) and headed north. When Greta announced “Arriving at address on the left,” all I saw was a row of warehouses. I drove around looking for the station with no luck. Finally I asked a guy coming out of one of the warehouse buildings where the train station was. He pointing and said, “Turn at the light and then it’s just over there a few blocks.” I followed his directions and found the station, parked in the parking garage and bought my round-trip ticket at the kiosk. I boarded the “Red” line train to the “Downtown Crossing” station, where I transferred to the “Orange” line for the “State” station, where I transferred to the “Blue” line for the “Aquarium” station, where I got off and found the City View Trolley Tours. Shooo, was that intense!

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The tour of Old Boston and the Inner Harbor was great, with on–off stops where I could visit the many famous “Freedom Trail” landmarks such as the Old North Church, from where it is said Paul Revere received his lantern signal to begin his famous ride to warn the patriots “The British are coming!”; The Old South Church (or Third Church in Boston), which was used as The Meeting House (as a bit of trivia, in 1773, Samuel Adams gave the signals from the Old South Church Meeting House for the “War Whoops” that started the Boston Tea Party); The site in the harbor where the Boston Tea Party took place; and of course, a self-guided walk-thru tour of the USS Constitution and museum.

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I was especially interested in the USS Cassin Young (DD-793) Museum located there in Boston harbor, because one of my tours of duty with the U.S. Navy was aboard the USS Gurke (DD-783). The Cassin Young was a (1943) Fletcher-class destroyer, whereas the Gurke was a little later (1945) Gearing-class destroyer, but they were overall very similar. To say walking thru that destroyer brought back memories is an understatement.

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When I got off the “T” train at the Braintree station that afternoon, I looked at the parking garage, and it was only 4-stories high. I distinctly remembered that the parking garage where I had parked that morning was 5-stories. After many questions to the station attendants, I finally realized that the guy who had given me directions that morning, for some reason, had directed me to the “Quincy Center” station instead. Now I had to buy a one-way ticket and catch the next train back one stop to the Quincy Center station to find my car. What a mess that was, and a big waste of time! Once I got to my car, I headed for the U.S. Naval Shipbuilding Museum in Quincy, Ma to see the heavy cruiser USS Salem. I didn’t spend much time at that museum as I wanted to visit the Sturbridge Village in Sturbridge, MA which is a living museum that re-creates life in rural New England during the 1790s thru the 1830s. I tried to get there before they closed, but that didn’t work out because “Greta” took me to the wrong location again. I finally found the Village, but by then they were closed, so I called it a day, had dinner and went to the motel for some rest and TV.

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—–To Be Continued—–

 

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Worries

1 Dec

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My Take

DiVoran Lites

Author, Poet and ArtistI’ve heard people say that they never worry, especially Christians since they condemn worry as a sin. They’re right, it comes from fear. But have you ever really met anyone who never worries at all? I haven’t. I sometimes worry about the strangest things. I worry about being useful to God. I worry about doing everything right so that the ones I love will love me, I worry about our health as we grow older, and here’s one that goes with love, I worry about being alone and lonely.

Lately, though I’ve been getting good results from praying about my worries as they come up. I pray that I will know the real truth of a situation, I thank God for it, and I let go of trying to figure it out for myself.

The number one human rule if you’re worrying is to do something good for somebody else. But you know what? I then worry about exactly what I should do. I wish I had not spent all the brain power I’ve spent trying to figure out what volunteer organization to join or who needs my help.

One day, I just said, okay. I give up. I don’t want to join a new organization. I don’t want to add to my should do list, and I don’t need someone else planning things for me to do for other people.

After giving up I told the Lord, it was his job to tell me what to do and when. I would watch for his His movement. Meanwhile I could stick with what I knew beyond doubt were my personal callings. For me it would be things like keeping my husband happy and well fed and both of us in the best health possible. It would be having my family’s backs, worship, prayer, writing, teaching Sunday school. That sort of thing.

But do you need to know what I’m called to do? I’d say no. I’d say you need to know what God has called you to focus on.

What’s happening now is that I do have time to fulfill my calling or callings, but also He works divine appointments and divine interruptions gently into my routine so that life never gets boring. As a matter of fact, I’m having more fun, feeling less lonely, and enjoying more adventures than ever before in my life. So rules are okay, but divine inspiration and serendipities are so much better.

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Giving Thanks for Goats

24 Nov

My Take

DiVoran Lites

Author, Poet and Artist

 

 

This is the photo our mother sent to our father when he was in the infantry on the European front during WWII. The story is about the time just before he went away. He did come back, so the story’s not about that, it’s about goats.1

In 1943, my family had a nanny goat. We called her Nanny. When she had a kid, we called him Billy. I loved the warm foamy milk Nanny gave and Billy was glad to share with me. This is all when we lived down in Crowley, Colorado and Dad worked at the tomato factory keeping their machines going. We lived in a “railroad apartment.” That’s a long house built with a room or two going back in a row like train cars and an indoor side hallway to enter them by.

Speaking of trains, we did have one rumble past, practically in our back yard, every day. When we heard it coming David and I would be waiting to wave to the conductor who was always there in his dark uniform and square looking hat to wave back. Something tells me he stationed himself on purpose to say good morning to the two little kids who were so glad to see him.

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Anyhow mother had more jobs than kids, housework, and animals. She cooked dinner, which we now call lunch, for all the men who worked at the factory, so with that, and the care of children and animals, she was a busy woman.

When the tomatoes were ripe, dad would bring some home and I remember sitting outside, on the stoop in the sun, with a salt shaker and salting each bite of that delicious fruit before I bit into it. You can be sure I was “all over” tomato juice when I finished, but I was washable and so was my dress, so that was all right.

Sometimes, Mother would take my brother who was about two, and I over to the factory to see daddy. Everybody went, walking the aisle between tomato plants. Here’s the line-up. Mother, DiVoran (5), David (2), Red, the Irish setter, Nanny, Billy, and Chanticleer the rooster. The baby goat wasn’t so bound by the aisle that he couldn’t divert to where the newest plants lived under panes of glass. Mother said his little hooves went trip-trap, over the glass and he never broke a thing.

This Christmas I’m buying a goat in memory of Nanny and Billy, but I don’t have any place to keep her, so I am sending her to a far away country and the people who live there will keep her, breed her, use her milk. Did you know that goat’s milk is especially nutritious for people who have AIDS? I’ll see my goat and all her progeny in a big tribe spreading over the hills when I get to heaven, (after I see Jesus and my family, of course). I’m looking forward to the whole scenario.

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http://www.heifer.org/gift-catalog/index.html

 

 

Matthew 25:35

For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me,

http://www.openbible.info/topics/feeding_the_hungry

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Talks with Johnnie Lord

20 Nov

Talks with Johnnie Lord

 DiVoran Lites

DiVoran Lites

I was in the first Sunday School class Johnnie Lord taught when she and Peter first came to Titusville. We met in the house next door to our church, the First Baptist, downtown. As I recall, it was a space-filled room with sunshine splashing through the windows and over the wooden floors.

Johnnie talked slow and southern. I, who had just come from California with my husband and two small children, was fascinated by her. She used her hands in teaching, and did I say she was soft-spoken and kind? No? Well, she was the kindest and wisest woman I have ever personally known. I am by no means alone in feeling this way.

One of the first things I recall Johnnie telling us was that a woman was responsible for dressing modestly instead of trying to draw attention to herself by wearing what might be called alluring clothing. That was the first time I ever heard that idea, although I’m sure my mother and grandmother had done their best to instill it in me. Of course she was teaching the Bible, but in a new and accessible way I’d never heard before.

The first time I knew Christian books, besides the Bible, existed was when Johnnie introduced us to, The Christian’s Secret of a Happy Life, by Hannah Whithall Smith. It’s a wonderful book. I recently bought a copy to see what had helped me so much. Basically it’s about looking to God instead of to our own thinking- patterns for guidance. It was written in 1875, and is still very popular. I’d say the principle is more needed today than ever before.

Johnnie suggested that if we didn’t understand something or couldn’t put it into practice we might stop reading until we could. That was good advice, but once I was onto Christian books I gobbled them like a starved child. Blessedly she also gave us a hunger and thirst for scripture, and for time spent alone with God every day. Renie and Billy watched Captain Kangaroo first thing in the morning and I, a stay-at-home mom, got started studying the Bible and learning to pray. Peter’s 9:59 plan about journaling inspired me to write letters to God, which I still do today.

It would be hard to say whether inspiration came to us through Johnnie or through Peter. They were sometimes called the dynamic duo, and I know they depended on each other’s relationship with the Lord in leading the congregation. They had many a sore trial, but they eventually counted them all for good.

One time I was sitting across the table from Johnnie and jokingly told her I had stolen Bill’s Bible. She said, “If you stole it, you probably needed it.”

Johnnie would often quote Isaiah 26:3, “Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on thee: …” I didn’t get it, but it stuck with me, and after I actually asked Jesus to be my master and savior, I began to understand what it meant.

In the seventies, Bill and I had some trouble in our marriage, and we consulted with Peter. He helped us through it, and there is no doubt that much of his counsel came from what he and Johnnie had learned in their marriage. The idea was that most people, when left to their own thoughts will try their best to figure it out or battle it out, but that if they focus on God and His will, His Holy Spirit will do the work. The prayer we prayed was: “Lord, change this marriage, beginning with me.” Bill and I just celebrated our fifty-seventh wedding anniversary. I hate to think where we and our family would be now, if we’d never met Peter and Johnnie .

Recently I was talking to a friend who grew up at Park Avenue with our gown children. She and I are both deeply grateful that the younger generations of each family are now thriving in goodness. We know that would not be so if it hadn’t been for our beloved leaders, and for the dear helpers and teachers at the church.

Thank you Peter and Johnnie. We hope your crowns in heaven aren’t too heavy with stars. Ah well, you probably won’t wear them anyhow, neither of you was ever looking for personal glory.

Johnnie went to be with the Lord this week. I know He is delighted to welcome her home-

 

Thou will keep in perfect peace

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Winter Begins

17 Nov

My Take

DiVoran Lites

Author, Poet and Artist

Suddenly the nighttime temperature was 50 degrees, then 40. It was also time to set our clocks back and stay in our warm cozy beds for an extra hour. Bill got the cat beds down from the attic so our little darlings wouldn’t catch cold, but Jasmine and I both got the sneezes anyway.

Another sign that winter has arrived is that last year’s and the year’s before poinsettia plants on the porch are full and lush, and even have a few leaves turning to red. Isn’t nature is wonderful?

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I got out a red plush sweater and a plaid flannel shirt to wear with my jeans. Soon I will reorganize my closet and drawers putting most of the shorts and t-shirts away, but not all. I do this twice a year, donating things I haven’t liked or worn and thus saving enough room for the ones I do enjoy wearing.

My winter stash yielded a velveteen, long-sleeved top with woven in flowers. I love that one, but each year when I wear it, a woman at church says something like: that top is so pretty. It’s to bad you can’t buy those any more. Well, okay, some people aren’t famous for their tact, but I’m not all sweetness and light myself – anyhow not always. Ask anyone. It’s the truth that counts. Am I going to let public opinion stop me from wearing something I want to wear? I’ll have to give that some thought.

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New International Version
Likewise, the tongue is a small part of the body, but it makes great boasts. Consider what a great forest is set on fire by a small spark. http://biblehub.com/james/3-5.htm

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