My Take
DiVoran Lites
I call you beloved. Dear you are mine.
I love you. I need you. You are so fine.
I call you mortal ‘cause human you are.
Each time you follow, I send you a star.
Together we conquer sadness and pain.
When it’s all over, our bond will remain.
I’ll never leave or forsake you, that’s sure.
For all your troubles, dear, I have the cure.
Look for my tangible work in your world.
Inside your soul flies my spirit unfurled.
Photo by DiVoran
From the Heart
Louise Gibson
Y Y U R
YYUB
ICUR
YY4ME
Interpretation:
Too wise you are,
Too wise you be.
I see you are
too wise for me.
The young woman hiding
in this old body
came out to have some fun.
Please join in the levity-
the battle is already won!
A Slice of Life
Bill Lites
Day 10 – Friday July 10th
The full English breakfast at the Box Bush Cottage B&B, in their lovely country style kitchen, was outstanding, with all fresh ingredients. If I had to grade the places I stayed during this trip, Box Bush Cottage would get 10 out of 10 in all categories.
First on the list of stops today was the Madingley American Cemetery in Cambridge, which is a beautifully sculptured 30+ acre memorial with over 3800 headstones honoring American servicemen who died during WWII. As it happened, a large group of British RAF Cadets were touring the memorial and being professionally photographed. Their smart looking sky blue uniform shirts and berets made a striking contrast to all those white headstones.
Then it was on to the Shuttleworth Collection in Baggingswade. This was a very special museum with a collection of 50+ aircraft, many of which have been restored to flying condition. They had six hangers full of beautifully restored aircraft, ranging from pre-World War I examples to aircraft produced up until the end of World War II. They also had a large restoration hanger which housed at least six different vintage aircraft in various stages of restoration.
Next I planned to visit the Bletchley communication center in Bletchley park, where most of the British code breaking activities were conducted during World War II. When I arrived, it appeared that the facility was very extensive and when I asked the clerk at the ticket counter how long I could expect the tour of the facility to last he said, “Two or three hours to see everything.” I decided that would eat up too much of the schedule for the day, and chose not to participate in that museum.
This gave me a little extra time before I was to meet my friends Mark and Tina at 4 o’clock in Newport Pagnell. I decided to go ahead and visit the Milton Keynes Museum early instead of after dinner as planned.
This museum is an example of a 200 acre working Victorian farmsted in the Wolverton and Greenleys area of England during the early 1800s. There were examples of every conceivable type of equipment and technology (including a Wakefield Water Wheel electricity generator) needed to run a farm of that size during that time period.
Mark and Tina are friends of my son & his wife. I sharing a video DiVoran had made for them, and then we made a video of them for our family. We went to one of their favorite pubs (The White Horse Inn) for dinner and it was wonderful. The food was great and the conversation was excellent. However, dinner and visiting lasted a little longer than I had planned.
When I left their house for my hotel in Reading, I went the wrong way on the M1 motorway. When I finally realized what I had done, I had to retrace all those many miles I had just come. Things still didn’t seem right. So, I checked the hotel SatNav address again and discovered I had plugged the wrong numbers into Greta. By the time I finally realized that mistake, it was getting really late and I still didn’t know where I was. Greta couldn’t find the hotel SatNav address there in Reading, and neither could I. I had the street address, but I couldn’t read house numbers on any of the houses.
We went round and round, back and forth, up and down the streets. I finally discovered Church Road changed names just at the point where I had entered that road. One way it was Church Road, the opposite direction was another name. I was beginning to think I was going to have to spend the night in the car, but luckily the Elmhurst Hotel had a lighted sign out front and a doorman on duty. It was almost 3 am by the time I got to the hotel, and I was too tired to do anything but just get to my room (up three flights of stairs) and get in bed. Wow. What a day!
—–To Be Continued—–
A word from DiVoran
Because I remember her brothers from our childhood, I particularly loved this email from my friend, Patricia. Sometimes I was invited for supper at the Franklins and it was a world of difference from eating in a restaurant-booth with my one younger brother, though I do love my brother. Patricia had five brothers– riches indeed! What I liked most about them was that they were so sweet and funny. Patricia and I were in our eleventh and twelfth years and her bothers ranged from about eight to sixteen. Patricia has always been petite, but she never had any trouble handling all those boys and even enjoying being with them.
Now I’ll let you get to Patricia’s story
Patricia
I went to the funeral of a friend this week. She was always relaxed, pleasant, and friendly no matter what, and had a wonderful sense of humor. She was also a leader, planner, and song leader in our prayer group. She had suffered from cancer, and knew the end was near. She planned the simple service, including the songs. It was very simple and wonderful. I also noticed she, in her witty little way, included some readings for her family. I smiled through the whole service and whenever I think of her, I have to smile. I understood that her last words to the pastor were: “Well, father, see you in heaven.” The pastor smiled, I’m sure.
Today, we went to a breakfast in the social room at the church my friend had attended. On the way in, we met a widower we know, and asked him to sit with us. As I was looking around, I saw my friend’s brother by himself (the brother of the lady who died). I motioned for him to join us. A smile lit up his face and he hurried over. Another widower came in and we gestured for him to come over too. The four of us enjoyed some great stories together.
When we go to the ranch country where my husband grew up, we go out to meals or coffee with several of his lifelong friends. A lot of times I’m the only woman. We have a lot to talk about. One time they were trying to recall something and the suggestion came: “We should ask the old-timers. We are the Old Timers.” Everybody smiled that time.
I’ve often felt left out because we didn’t live where either of us had grown up. That’s what gives me the tendency to look for others who might be alone too. At breakfast that day, I turned around and saw another parishioner eating alone, so I invited him to come and sit with us. We were all enjoying getting better acquainted and sharing stories. About that time, a woman dressed as a nurse came up and speaking directly to me said, “You and your five men come on over to the health fair across the parking lot. It is free.” I was startled the way she said it, but then I had to smile. Yes, I always seem to end up with a bunch of guys, I have since I was a kid, and didn’t think a thing about it. I don’t know what she was thinking. I was just thinking how people do not seem to smile much anymore, and had decided to make a special effort to make it happen. When it does, it’s heavenly, and none of us feel lonely anymore.
My Take
DiVoran Lites
When people began to tell me about their line dance classes and what good exercise they were and how much fun it was, and when I discovered that there is a line dance class at my church five minutes away, I decided to give it a try.
That’s where I was yesterday between 10 and 11:00 AM. I wanted to see if I had the stamina and brain-power to learn the steps. It was supposed to be a beginner’s class
Even though I’m older now, I have never lost my love of dancing. I still get carried away in my own kitchen. My friend Patricia says she does the same. Unlike his wife, Michael, I know it was right for King David to express his joy before the Lord in dance.
At first the teacher who is also a senior (according to AARP standards) tried to show me every step and make sure I got it before we moved on. She even raised her voice at me once (and she was wearing a mike.) That’s when I turned to jelly inside and thought I’d better scoot away while I could. But somehow I got the courage to ignore my fear and soldier on.
Soon I was on my own keep up or not. We did about half a dozen songs and each of them had some or one new (to me) step.
One of the dancers suggested I get in the middle of the small group of ten. That way I could see somebody’s feet no matter which way we turned. In a way it was a good idea, in a way, it wasn’t. I’m like a kid when it comes to distraction. One woman had the most colorful and beautiful athletic shoes I had ever seen. Another had sandals that laced up her ankle, but she didn’t know the steps as well. A gentleman in front of me wore black cowboy boots. I probably should have been watching his feet all along.
Every once in while the teacher says, “How are we doing.” I realize she is speaking to me and I shoot back, “Good!” If I can’t quite turn at the right time, if I’m going east when everyone else faces west, if I have to make up my own steps, well, I’ve decided to enjoy myself. I’m loving the catchy songs and I feel a genuine smile blooming. I think maybe I have received help and courage from a higher power.
After 1 hour and six different dances I hear again, “How are we doing?”
“I am completely flummoxed and tired, but I’m having a good time,” I answer. Many voices assured me that this wasn’t a beginner’s class as I had thought. That made me feel a bit better. Now, I want to go back, but I don’t want to mess up the class. I left with a half- promise, “I’ll be back.” I should have added the old Western saying, “Good Lord willin’ and the crick don’t rise.”
SUNDAY MEMORIES
Judy Wills
I’ve mentioned in previous musings about how I started taking piano lessons the day I started first grade – and they continued until I graduated from high school. I was not a very accomplished pianist at that time. Perhaps still not, but more than I was at that time.
1952-Our new piano
I remember my brother, Bill, saying how much he hated practicing the violin – so much so that our parents gave up and let him quit. Well, I pretty much had the same feeling about the piano. Yeah, I wanted to play that instrument, but just didn’t want to devote the time to practice! But they wouldn’t let me quit.
In going through some old papers recently, I came upon this poem.
My mother, at some point in time, found it and cut it out and sent it to me. It depicted how I would “practice” so much of the time. I remember one particular time that I just sat there on the piano bench, not even touching a note. Mother was outside, hanging up the clothes on the clothesline, so I didn’t think she would hear me. When my “time” was up, I just skipped outside, ready to get to something else. Mother looked at me and said, “Did you have a nice nap? Now get in there and practice!!” Trudging back to the piano, my thought was, “how did she know???”
But, as with all things, practice…practice…practice is what it takes to get a command of any instrument. I learned that the hard way, whether the piano or the organ (still not my favorite instrument to play). As I said before, I have the talent, but I don’t have the gift of the instrument. I’ve never been able to just sit down and play something for my own enjoyment. I wish I did or could – it would have made my practice time so much more enjoyable.
I haven’t used my talent on the piano for several years now. I still have my books and I do sit down occasionally to keep my hand in, but not very often. I still love to play the old hymns – and some of the arrangements of some new songs. But I still must have that piece of music in front of me in order to play it. None of it comes naturally.
But if I am ever needed, I can, and do, pick it up and play. God has given me the ability to be able to play for Him and His Kingdom. I play for His Glory, and that fills me up like nothing else.
I am blest.
I received an email from Janet this week about her ministry and she sweetly asked if I would pass it on. Since this blog has a larger reach than my email list, I felt impressed to share it here. Janet has experienced great sorrow and shares a message of hope and joy and I love having her as part of the Old Things R New blogger family~ Onisha
Left to right. Judy, DiVoran, Bill, Onisha, Lynn (web genius) Louise and Janet
Among the tears we shed, the dark moments we face, and the evil that is gaining ground, God’s call to you and to me to be His vessels is persistent. But how can we become more effective vessels when many, including some in
our own churches, are overwhelmed by burdens, overcome by fear, and live with worry?
May I ask you, with a prayer-filled heart, to please take a few minutes and consider forwarding this message to your pastor or women’s ministry director?
With hundreds of speakers to choose for your 2016 events, the task is arduous, yet showing those who attend your events how to overcome adversity and guide them to the path to God’s victory is more urgent than ever.
I’m grateful for Thelma Well’s words about my presentations and biblical teaching on living a victorious life:
Janet,
It is obvious in your speaking that your heart is pure and your spirit is content which gives the listener a sense of your authenticity. You leave the listener with hope, inspiration, and encouragement so that, through faith and trust in God, they can make it through any circumstance. I appreciate what you do for the Kingdom of God.”
As you know, my physical blindness allowed me to see God’s grace. The episodes that were even more devastating in my life allowed me the blessing to teach many about Gods power to restore.
Here is a 2-minute video sample of my message.
The battle against evil is fierce; I invite you to join me in answering God’s urgent call to defeat the forces of darkness in the name of Jesus and thus, equip believers to live victoriously.
As you pray about speakers for your 2016 events, should God prompt you to contact me, I’m at your service.
407.855.1565
Janet@janetperezeckles.com
In His grace,
Janet Perez Eckles,
International Author & Speaker
igniting in you a passion to overcome.
Two-minute video sample.
Making a difference with you, one-minute video.
www.janetperezeckles.com
JC Empowerment
From the Heart
Louise Gibson
Years ago an anonymous writer penned
a short poem about the merit of measuring
our words.
“A wise old owl sat in an oak.
The more he saw the less he spoke.
The less he spoke the more he heard.
Why can’t we all be like that wise old bird.”
There is a connection between wisdom
and limiting what we say.
It is wise to be a good listener,
while holding our tongue at bay,
Be sensitive to the needs of the one
you are speaking to.
Listen to what their heart is saying
before expressing your point of view.
Footnote:
Although there is a time to be quiet
and a time to speak (Eccl.3:7),
choosing to speak less allows us to
hear more.
On the Porch
Onisha Ellis
We were blessed to have a visit from my aunt and cousin recently. We did a whole lot of eating and a whole lot of talking. One evening we even went to the performing arts center to see Jeanne Robertson. She is one of my favorite comediennes and all of her material is clean and funny. I first saw her at a Women of Faith conference and have watched many of her clips on You Tube. If you have the chance, catch her tour. I know she will be in Florida in April. This is a clip of my favorite story.
On Monday my cousin and I went on a final jaunt around town. We did a little shopping, ate some Chinese food and scoped out the new location of a doctor’s office. Of course we got a bit turned around and that was a good thing. There is this mystery store in town that I have been looking for. I call it a mystery because I had heard about it but could not remember where it was located. As we wandered around, my cousin pointed to a store and asked what kind of store is that? I looked and yelled, I want to go there! She whipped the car around in the middle of the street and right into a parking place. I was impressed. It takes my husband a little longer to react, which is why I haven’t made it into the store. We walked across the street only to discover the shop was not open any longer…BUT it was still an operational facility AND the owner offered us a tour. (Yea!) The business is Appalachian Harvest according to their website:
“Owners, Kim and Kevin Baldwin, founded Appalachian Harvest in 1998. “Our gourmet condiments are still made in small batches, hand stirred and hand poured, just like grandma made”. No artificial colors or preservatives are used, letting the natural flavors come through. Appalachian Harvest adds a unique ingredient to all of their products, love!
These products have been featured in Taste of the South magazine, and were used for catering the 2005 Superbowl in Detroit, Michigan. Appalachian Harvest adds a unique ingredient to all of their products, love! “
The kitchen set up reminded me of my grandmother’s and that is probably why I am drawn to what I call “working kitchens.” Big pots attract me like a bear to a picnic cooler in the Great Smoky Mountain National Park. I want to see what is inside and sneak a taste. Kevin, who gave us the tour offered us a jar of their Hot Pepper Jelly with Cherries so I didn’t have to push down my urge to go all bear on him.
Pour pepper jelly over a bar of cream cheese to make a delicious and easy party treat.
The best part of the tour was hearing their success story. Their newest client, William-Sonoma will be selling Appalachian Harvest Cherry Pie Filing this year. That is big for a husband and wife run company. The quart jar we were shown was a thing of red cherry beauty and the ingredient list showed basic ingredients, just like you use if you canned it yourself.
Here is my final thought for this week. Do you ever feel like things are falling apart around you and you need to prop them up? I do. I like to be a fixer, and then I become stressed when I can’t fix a problem. I am taking up a burden God does not ask me to carry. He wants to carry them for me!
I love this song from my childhood. When I hear the song in my mind, I am taken to a happy place and hear my parents voices singing it.
Hear the blessed Savior calling the oppressed,
“Oh, ye heavy-laden, come to Me and rest;
Come, no longer tarry, I your load will bear,
Bring Me every burden, bring Me every care.”
A Slice of Life
Bill Lites
Day 9 – Thursday July 9th
After another great English breakfast at the Riverside Pub, the first museum on my list today was the City of Norwich Aviation Museum, located adjacent to the Norwich Airport. This was a small museum with 12 beautifully restored aircraft displayed outside. However, two of their displays were a Vulcan bomber and a Nimrod naval patrol aircraft. It’s amazing to me how these small museums manage to acquire these very large and rare aircraft.
Next it was on to the Norfolk & Suffolk Aviation Museum in Bungay. This museum consisted of some 13 nicely restored outside static displayed aircraft and two Quonset hut type buildings of WWII memorabilia. This was one of the few UK aviation museums that did not have a Vulcan bomber in their collection.
The Parham Airfield Museum turned out to be nothing more than a small restored control tower which was closed that day. I am assuming that the control tower contained memorabilia related to the U.S. 390th Bombardment Group that was based at this field during WWII.
The Ipswich Transportation Museum has the largest collection of transportation items in Britain devoted to just one town. Everything displayed in the museum was either made or used in and around Ipswich, a county town in Suffolk. This included cars, trucks, buses, and trollies. The museum also includes many items of the Ipswich Engineering Collection.
This turned out to be a fairly short day and Greta took me past the Box Bush Cottage B&B Iocated in St. Edmunds the first time. After I re-entered the SatNav, address she took me right to it. Box Bush Cottage is a lovely 200 year old two-story home situated on approximately 20 acres of beautiful farm land. The owners Nick and Emilie were some of the greatest hosts a person could ask for. They had beautifully landscaped yards and gardens. They also had some black Chochin China chickens, a really cute pet goat, and a couple of the cleanest small pigs I’ve ever seen.
Nick is a roofing contractor and amateur race car enthusiast. He owns and was preparing his Morgan Three-Wheel Super Sport for a hill-climb event at Shelelsey Walsh in Worcestershire on the following Saturday. In case you are like me, having never heard of the Shelelsey Walsh Speed Hillclimb; it is a 1000 yard long 10-16 degree incline course that hosts one of the oldest motorsport events in the world (begun in 1905). I was very interested in the Three-Wheeler since I had only seen photos of them at car shows. Nick informed me that the Morgan Motor Company began hand building the first “Cyclecar” in 1909, which was the company’s original Three-Wheeler, that Mr. Morgan called the Morgan Runabout.
Because of its superior design, it wasn’t long before the Morgan Cyclecar was entering and winning Cyclecar races throughout the UK and Europe. These race wins culminated with the winning of the Cyclecar Grand Prix at Amiens in France in 1913, against much opposition from many continental four-wheelers. After that victory, Morgan named one of his most popular Three-Wheeler models the Grand Prix.
In 1920 Morgan introduced the four-seat Family Runabout three-wheeler which helped put economic travel within the reach of most families. Morgan Cyclecars continued to be improved and upgraded thru the years, and in 1931 the Super Sport was introduced.
After WWII Three-Wheeler popularity declined such that production was finally discontinued in 1953. Morgan continued building automobiles, but then some 60 years later, in 2014, by popular demand, the company “Reimagined” their Three-Wheeler to 21st century standards. Nick’s new and improved Morgan Three-Wheeler is a beautiful machine, and I wished him and his son the best of luck at Saturday’s hill climb.
—–To Be Continued—–
Old Things R New 