Meow;Hello

3 Jun

My Take

Thea’s Post 

Scribe- DiVoran

I have been asking Ma when I could tell my stories again. One of her friends even asked about Meow-Me! Finally, she is finished with all that baby book nonsense and can focus on Meow-Me.

I’ll start by telling you about the room we are in right now. Sometimes Ma calls it the office, sometimes the scriptorium, and sometimes the sanctuary because she does her quiet time here in the winter. In summer, we get to go out on the porch early in the morning when the Sand Hill Cranes fly over honking their horns. 

Sand Hill Cranes  Pixabay

I like pillows and chairs, and blankets, and rugs. I liked the taste and texture of Ma’s birch-cloth sheets, but every time she catches Me pulling at them with my teeth she yells. “No!” I must say she did a good job patching them. She likes them more than any sheets she’s ever had because they are pale green and soft. Now they contain perfect memories of Meow-Me forever. I realize that she likes me a lot better than she does those ole sheets.

A while back I decided to spend all night on the porch watching the action and listening to the night sounds. Several of the noises were scary, but the worst one went like this: whoo-whoo-whoo. Ma tried to assure me that it was only a night-bird, but something told me it was not safe to connect with it. Nothing can get me when I am safe on the porch. 

Ma has an office chair and sometimes she rolls it over to another chair so she can pet me. I refuse to get in her lap, and I still don’t like to be picked up so this works.

None of the chairs in our house are big enough for both of us and neither is her lap. 

In the evening we have snacks. I like my Greenies. They are supposed to clean my teeth. Ma throws one at the wall and when I hear it hit I run to find it while she is hiding the rest in the folds of the red blanket. 

Two of my playmates are called rugs.They are thick and stiff but pretty and can survive a whipping with my back claws. 

I hear talk of cutting claws again. One of them holds me while the other snips. I try to get away, but I am no match for giants. I think they are cutting them because of a few small holes in the porch screen. Really, all she has to do is to fix the holes with packing tape.

It’s good to finally to talk to you again. Thank you for reading. Here’s a nice big purr for you PUURRR. I’ll be back. 

Meow, Me 

Author, Poet and Artist

DiVoran has been writing for most of her life. Her first attempt at a story was when she was seven years old and her mother got a new typewriter. DiVoran got to use it and when her dad saw her writing he asked what she was writing about. DiVoran answered that she was writing the story of her life. Her dad’s only comment was, “Well, it’s going to be a very short story.” After most of a lifetime of writing and helping other writers, DiVoran finally launched her own dream which was to write a novel of her own. She now has her Florida Springs trilogy and her novel, a Christian Western Romance, Go West available on Amazon. When speaking about her road to publication, she gives thanks to the Lord for all the people who helped her grow and learn.  She says, “I could never have done it by myself, but when I got going everything fell beautifully into place, and I was glad I had started on my dream.”

Theft

2 Jun

SUNDAY MEMORIES

Judy Wills

Have you ever been the victim of theft?  Large or small?  Of course, when you are the victim, even a “small” theft feels large, doesn’t it?

For instance, when we were in Wiesbaden, Germany (1967-1970), I received a letter from my mother, telling me that, while she was away from the house during a weekend retreat, someone had broken into her house and robbed her.

Our house in 1946, my brother, Bill, and me

My first reaction was absolute FEAR – for her.  My dad had died some time before, and she was a woman living alone in the house I grew up in.  But then that fear subsided – since I was so far away and there was nothing I could do about it.  (Nothing of what was stolen was ever recovered)  They took a shotgun that was my dad’s and was supposed to be given to my brother.  They riffled through her jewelry and only took her diamond earrings.  Of all things, they took the old striking wall clock off the wall in the hallway.  There was nothing of real value in that clock.

1952 – the family together – the wall clock behind Bill

After I got over the fear, my next response – and still is to this day – was anger.  NO ONE – and I repeat that – NO ONE has the right to go into my house and take what is not theirs!!  What we had worked for all our lives up to that point.  I was furious!  Again, I’ve tried to not let it rule my life, as there is and was nothing I could about it.

I think that, not only does it anger me that someone went into mom’s house, but the thought of “someone” unknown to me would riffle through my things – touch my things – just gives me the creeps.  

And that brings to mind a memory I have of our early days in Albuquerque.  Those were the days when we left our house unlocked. Innocent days.  We came home from church one Sunday and discovered that someone had been in the house.  Anything stolen?  I don’t remember that, just that there were signs that someone had been in there.  We had new neighbors next door.  We couldn’t accuse them of doing it, but it made us aware that we must keep our house locked up.  Innocence lost.

When we lived in Virginia, we attended the church that was in our little community. Across the parking lot from the main building was the parsonage.  At that particular time, our Minister of Music was living in the parsonage.  Fred and I went to the church one morning for something or other. 

Credit Google Search

We noticed that his small pickup truck was parked in the driveway, but that the bed of the truck was missing.  My thought was that he was having some repair work done.  We did whatever we had gone there to do, and in the course of our conversation, I mentioned something about his truck “missing” something.  He looked at me funny, then asked me what I was talking about.  When I told him, he made a bee-line out to his house – and stood there, mouth agape, looking at his truck.  Apparently he hadn’t even noticed the truck as he walked to the church proper that morning. Also apparently, during the night, the thief had cut the fuel line and whatever connections needed to keep the bed attached, and just took the bed off the truck and with him.  License tag and all.

But that’s not the end of the story.  As he was driving down the interstate one day, he actually saw the bed of his truck driving ahead of him – attached to another truck – license tag and all.  Fortunately, he had a cell phone and called the detective in charge of his case and told him about it.  The police were able to stop the thief.  His explanation was that he just needed a new bed for his truck, and knew where he could get one without having to buy it.  Unbelievable.  I think that falls in the category of stupid crook, don’t you?

~~~~~~~~~~More stupid crook stories next time~~~~~~~~~

 
 
JUDYJudy is living in Central Florida with her retired U.S. Air Force husband of 50+ years. Born in Dallas, Texas, she grew up in the Southwestern United States.She met her husband at their church, where he was attending the university in her town. After college and seminary, he entered the Air Force, and their adventures began.They lived in eight of our United States, and spent six years in Europe, where their oldest daughter was born. She was a stay-at-home mom for many years
 
Judy has always been involved with music, both playing the piano and singing.
Always interested in exercise, she was an aerobic dancing instructor, as well as a piano teacher for many years, and continues to faithfully exercise at home.
 
After moving to Central Florida, she served as a church secretary for nearly nine years.Her main hobby at this point in time is scanning pictures and 35mm slides into the computer. She also enjoys scrapbooking.
 
She and her husband have two married daughters and four grandchildren, including grandtwins.
She and her husband enjoy the Disney parks as often as possible.

Seeking Peace-In Thankfulness

31 May

On the Porch

Onisha Ellis

We spent the past week unpacking and organizing after our migration to our beloved Western North Carolina from Florida. I describe our move as migration because like sparrows and Painted Buntings, we move between the same locals each year. More deep cleaning than deep thinking going on.

As I sat on our back porch this morning and read through the day’s devotional, I focused on choosing overflowing thankfulness. Thankful for what I have and thankful for what I don’t have, and trusting in God’s promises.

So then, just as you received Christ Jesus as Lord, continue to live in him, rooted and built up in him, strengthened in the faith as you were taught, and overflowing with thankfulness. COLOSSIANS 2:6–7

Love God’s unfailing love and mercy centers my emotions.

Joy When I choose joy, thankfulness will overflow.

Peace As my heart and mind embrace thankfulness, peace replaces agitation and fear.

Be Made New

29 May

On the Porch

Onisha Ellis

  • Ephesians 4:22-24 New International Version (NIV)

22 You were taught, with regard to your former way of life, to put off your old self, which is being corrupted by its deceitful desires; 23 to be made new in the attitude of your minds;24 and to put on the new self, created to be like God in true righteousness and holiness.

Baby Book Four

27 May

My Take

DiVoran Lites

Story by Dora Bedell Bowers

DiVoran talks very well now and she is still just as friendly with people as ever. She sucks her thumb (yet & still). She weighs 26 ½ pounds. She has a black kitten which we call, “Little Devil.” We have a grass yard here so she is able to get outside in good weather. Everyone compliments her on her lovely curls, which are now blond. Grandmother Bowers sometimes forms them into a head full of long curls. Our child is sweet and everyone loves her. May that always be true.

January 1, 1944

Dear little book,

It has been a long time since I have written.  We are living in Crowley, Colorado now. Ivan works on the machinery in a tomato factory, and my paid job is to cook the noon meal for six workers every day.  Sister is five years old now. I call her that because she has a two-year-old baby brother. His name is David.  He is just learning to talk and can’t say her real name so he calls her Doo-Doo. We still have our cat. He is big and very mean at times, but he’s beautiful and shiny, and we love him in spite of his disposition. 

David and DiVoran about 1943   DiVoran’s Vintage Photos

We have a goat for milk, and she has a kid. DiVoran loves warm goat’s milk. The doctor recommended it. It’s very good for her. We have chickens and a rooster. When we go over to the factory to visit Daddy, we walk in a line. I carry David piggyback, then comes DiVoran, Boots the Irish Setter, Mama-goat, baby goat, and Chanticleer the rooster. I’m always surprised when the baby goat prances over the window glass that protects the young tomato plants. He never breaks a one.  

Sister can help out a great deal now. She sets the table and takes the scraps to the chickens. She looks after Dave very well for her age. I take them to Sunday School. DiVoran still has curly hair but so hates to have it combed. She says she is going to let it grow until she can walk on it. She has decided to marry the neighbor’s boy Lloyd Osbourne. 

Sister doesn’t care for dolls. She loves books, though, and she likes to color. She reads to Dave when she can get him to sit still long enough to listen. Sister has a persistent cold which I hope we can overcome. Her eyes are hazel now; her hair is darker too. Her feet were somewhat curved when she was born. I tried to massage them and help them to be straight, but I didn’t succeed. Sister likes the radio, and she loves to dance. I suppose she picked that up from me. Daddy Ivan will be examined soon for the army unless his boss, Mr. Picketto gets a deferment for him. Don’t misunderstand, he’s ready and willing to fight for his country, but the boss needs him at the tomato factory to keep the machinery running. I’ll close now with a prayer that I may be a good mother through the coming years. 

The End 

Author, Poet and Artist

DiVoran has been writing for most of her life. Her first attempt at a story was when she was seven years old and her mother got a new typewriter. DiVoran got to use it and when her dad saw her writing he asked what she was writing about. DiVoran answered that she was writing the story of her life. Her dad’s only comment was, “Well, it’s going to be a very short story.” After most of a lifetime of writing and helping other writers, DiVoran finally launched her own dream which was to write a novel of her own. She now has her Florida Springs trilogy and her novel, a Christian Western Romance, Go West available on Amazon. When speaking about her road to publication, she gives thanks to the Lord for all the people who helped her grow and learn.  She says, “I could never have done it by myself, but when I got going everything fell beautifully into place, and I was glad I had started on my dream.”

Remembering the Wahoo

27 May

On the Porch

Onisha Ellis

My Uncle Howell’s submarine, the Wahoo went missing during WWII. It wasn’t until years later the submarine remains were found. By then, all of his family had passed away without having closure. I remember and honor him and all of those who lost their lives on the Wahoo during the grueling battle.

Oh…The Pain

26 May

SUNDAY MEMORIES

Judy Wills

OH…THE PAIN

Well, that title covers a lot of ground, hmm? I suppose we all have pain of some sort now and then.  I’ve just discovered that I seem to have more and more pain in more parts of my body as I age.

But I vaguely remember a pain from my childhood – earaches.  Have you ever had an ear infection?  Or an earache?  Nothing fun about that, is there?  It seems like there is just no place where you can touch/heat/ice/or whatever that can relieve the pain.

When we first moved to Albuquerque, New Mexico, I was not quite four-years-old.  Daddy had just been selected to be the Sunday School Secretary for the New Mexico Baptist Convention.  I seem to remember his office being in an old building downtown somewhere.  I also remember that, for a while, Mother was Daddy’s secretary.  Having no where to put me, they took me with them to Daddy’s office.  

I’m not sure that I remember much of how good a child I was – I don’t remember running around and getting into mischief. I seem to remember creaky wooden floors, and a distinct smell – nothing unpleasant – but memorable, probably wood polish.  

Mother (right) and her sister, Jessie (left), in front of the old Baptist Building.

The window states “Baptist Book Store”

But the thing I remember the most is how badly my ears hurt.  I remember that I would frequently cry myself to sleep from the pain.  I don’t remember how Mom and Dad put up with my crying, and I’m sure it was heart-breaking for them to hear.  I remember Mother warming some sweet oil and putting it in my ears, which seemed to help some.

At some point in my life, I must have outgrown the earaches, because I didn’t have them in my teen years or as an adult. However, I find even now, that I dislike having any liquid in my ears.  I don’t swim for that reason.

I also don’t remember how long Daddy’s office was in that old building.  But a new building was built along Central Avenue (U.S. Route 66), and I believe the New Mexico Convention offices are still in that building.

New Baptist Building, 1954 – side street entrance

But as I have aged, my hearing has taken a hit, and I now must wear hearing aids to help with being able to hear and understand what others are saying.  Thank God that the aides are available – they help so very much.  But I always wonder just how much those earaches I had as a child contributed to my hearing loss.

There can also be other contributors to hearing loss. If you are a reader of my posts, you might remember that for about eight years I was an aerobic instructor.  I stood directly in front of a boom box and shouted out the steps to my dancers.  So perhaps the loud music blaring in my face had some effect on my hearing, as well.  

I only remember one concert Fred and I attended where I came away with my ears ringing from the loud music.  I’ve been told that can be a contributing factor in later hearing loss.  But it was only one concert – and we never attended any others like that.

But that brings me back to the pain of the earaches.  It was a most uncomfortable time in my young life, and I am just grateful that I no longer have those issues.

JUDYJudy is living in Central Florida with her retired U.S. Air Force husband of 50+ years. Born in Dallas, Texas, she grew up in the Southwestern United States.She met her husband at their church, where he was attending the university in her town. After college and seminary, he entered the Air Force, and their adventures began.They lived in eight of our United States, and spent six years in Europe, where their oldest daughter was born. She was a stay-at-home mom for many years
Judy has always been involved with music, both playing the piano and singing.
Always interested in exercise, she was an aerobic dancing instructor, as well as a piano teacher for many years, and continues to faithfully exercise at home.
After moving to Central Florida, she served as a church secretary for nearly nine years.Her main hobby at this point in time is scanning pictures and 35mm slides into the computer. She also enjoys scrapbooking.
She and her husband have two married daughters and four grandchildren, including grandtwins.
She and her husband enjoy the Disney parks as often as possible.

What to do when fear attacks

25 May

Walking by Faith, Not by Sight

Janet Perez Eckles

Reblogged May 25, 2019

Are you celebrating Memorial Day? Or are you trying to remove the memory of the personal battles that you sometimes fight, but often lose?

Not long ago, I sat at the gate, waiting to board the last leg of my trip home. I settled in, listening for the announcement to pre-board.

But instead, this announcement came through: “Sorry, folks, we just got word the flight to Orlando will be delayed for one hour. We’ll give you and update as we receive it.”

Can you believe this?” the man seated beside me said. He gave a long sigh. “I can’t believe another delay. You would think as much as they charge for these tickets, the airlines would get their act together.”

Minutes later, another announcement: “We just got word the delay will be about two hours.”

He slapped his leg. “Are you kidding me? This isn’t happening!”

I smile with compassion at his ranting.

This man’s problem wasn’t the delay.

The issue was with the fact that he chose to enter into a battle between his perception of how things should be and the reality of what things were.

That battle has winners; they’re called anxiety and stress.

And all of us at one time or another have sat on the gate of disappointment. Maybe not because of a flight delay, but because of an answer prayer that never comes, a drastic change that leaves us numb, or a heartache that shakes our world.

All of the above shove us onto the battlefield where our emotions are on the frontline. But no matter how we fight. No matter how we try to change, correct or resolve, the only way we become winners is by carrying the banner of victory as we allow God to fight our battles.

Like the Israelites, we have the Egyptians of destructive emotions chasing us night and day.

But Moses carries the promise: “Moses answered the people, ‘Do not be afraid. Stand firm and you will see the deliverance the LORD will bring you today. The Egyptians you see today you will never see again. The LORD will fight for you; you need only to be still’” (Exodus 14:13-14).

Even when we face the greatest battle, being still is doable when we embrace these three truths.

Let’s pray

Father, when battles grow fierce, I will trust in you to bring freedom, to defeat the enemy of destructive emotions. I will cling to you as my defender from all attacks and injuries. I count on you to bring me triumphant victory. In Jesus’ name, amen.

What battle are you trusting God to fight for you?

Janet

______________________________________

Did you know I wrote a book filled with words of encouragement, uplifting thoughts and illustrations of real-life triumph to empower you? Its title, Trials of Today, Treasures for Tomorrow: Overcoming Adversities in Life. You can get it HERE.

CLICK HERE for a one-minute inspirational video.

Looking for a speaker for your upcoming event? A great speaker makes the difference between a so-so event and one that shines with impact. I invite you to view one of my two-minute videos HERE.

Your privacy is always respected and protected.

Source: https://janetperezeckles.com/blog/inspiration/what-to-do-when-fear-attacks.html

Janet Perez Eckles’ story of triumph is marked by her work as an international speaker, #1 best-selling author, radio host, personal success coach and master interpreter. Although blind since 31, her passion is to help you see the best of life.

Janet Eckles Perez

Some say she should be the last person to be dancing. Her life is summarized in this 3-minute video: http://bit.ly/1a8wGJR

www.janetperezeckles.com

Seeking Peace-Halting Mean Thoughts

24 May

On the Porch

Onisha Ellis

I saw this on a friend’s Facebook page this week.

 
 

I was feeling fairly comfortable with myself until the last one on the list…mean thoughts.

I am so guilty of this. In fact I am good at this! I can spin an intricate web of mean thoughts complete with vengeful scenarios. I figured that if I didn’t speak my mean thoughts they were harmless. I was wrong.

Mean thoughts harm the soul just as mean words harm those they to whom they are aimed.

Since I have been meditating on peace I have come to realize how destructive the mean thoughts are to me. There is no peace in mental revenge.

I still utter words like idiot when I read or hear something that in my opinion is off the wall. I’m not sure I will ever be able to curb that reaction, but when the incident lingers in my thoughts, I am reminding myself to silently pray a blessing upon the person. This frees me from feeling that I need to set that person straight.

Side note, I am a southerner and I am not referring to the double meaning, “well bless her heart.”

 
 

Love Does not indulge in mean thinking.

Joy Choosing joy removes the mean thoughts.

Peace Comes when I choose blessing over plotting.

Oh Snap!

23 May

On the Porch

Onisha Ellis

How many of you enjoy popping bubble wrap? I do. The packaging wrap that comes in some boxes with the large bubbles are fun too. I like to put them on the floor and pop, pop, pop!

Over the past few years I have felt myself drawn to a new kind of pop…Snapware.

I realized I had reached the obsession stage when I came home from shopping at Publix grocery with a large rectangle one that I had bought without considering the price. After washing it I began to slowly snap and unsnap the latches.., snap, unsnap, snap, unsnap… until my husband commanded me to stop!

Yesterday our daughter spent the day helping sort items for our church rummage sale. She sent me a picture of a Snapware container and asked if I wanted it….duh. A bit later she sent another picture of more containers and asked if I would like them. Double duh. Then she asked which of the two I wanted.

I am thinking that buying this Snapware from the church rummage sale will nullify my splurge on the one I bought at Publix.

Wait, don’t people with addictions tend to justify their actions? Oh snap!

%d bloggers like this: