My One & Only Ski Trip

19 Jun

A Slice of Life
Bill Lites

Bill

I believe the year was 1978, and one of my job related trips was to, what was then, the Hercules Powder Co. facility in Utah. The purpose of the trip was to coordinate design requirements for the Navy’s Trident submarine missile with the Hercules engineers. As it turned out, scheduling of the trip took place during the winter and I 1 planned to try my luck at skiing while I was there. All the skiers in my office were envious and wanted to share all their skiing experiences with me. Having lived most of my adult life going to college in southern California and working in Florida,
I hadn’t ever done any snow skiing, and appreciated most of the advice. I had no skiing togs and was in need of everything to play the part of a novice ski bum. Then, as luck would have it, I learned one of the other young engineers in our office was an avid skier and was willing to let me borrow his equipment for the trip. He provided me with a hat, goggles, gloves, sweater, a lined ski jacket and ski pants. All I had to come up with was some long johns, a couple pair of heavy wool socks and sun glasses. What a deal that was! He told me I could rent the skis, polls and boots at the ski lodge. So, off I went ready to meet the challenges of the Utah ski slopes.

It was recommended that I try the Park City, Utah ski resort, and since I was only going to have time for one day of skiing, that’s where I went. The snow that year in the Park City area was deep and beautiful, and I had no trouble finding the resort. The ski lodge was a picturesque structure set at the bottom of a mountain slope, 2where several ski trails were cut into the tree covered mountainside converged, with ski lift access to each. The ski instructors were very helpful, providing all levels of instruction. They had a beginner’s package, which included skis, polls & boot rental, a morning of basic instruction and a full day lift pass, all for a very reasonable price.

Even though I may have looked the part of a skier, I wasn’t ready for those first three hours of hard work it took 3just to learn how to stay upright on skis. They taught us how to walk sideways up a slope, how to point the front of our skis together to “wedge” slowly down a slope, how to fall and how to get up. And boy did I ever need to know how to do that! Once the morning basic class was over, I was ready for a rest and some lunch somewhere warm.

After lunch, the next four hours were spent riding the lift up the mountain and trying to4 get back down the beginners slope without running into a tree or crashing into someone or falling and breaking something. To this day, I can’t believe I fell down that many times, in that many different ways, and didn’t break something. I have to admit, by the end of the day, even though I was tired, I was enjoying myself and really didn’t want to turn in my skis and leave. But I did, and of course that isn’t the end of the story.

I went back to my motel in town, thawed out in a long hot shower, had a wonderful steak dinner at a local restaurant, then went back to the motel and tried to watch some TV. But I was so tired by then I couldn’t stay awake, and just went to bed early, since I had to catch my flight back to Florida the next day anyway.

The next morning I woke up with two surprises. First of all I could hardly get out of 5bed. I was sore from head to toe. I hurt in places I didn’t even know I had muscles. I finally struggled over to the window and looked outside to find it had snowed 6during the night and the rental car was covered with almost 12 inches

of snow. What a sight that was! Then I began to worry if I would be able to get to the airport in time for my flight.

As it turned out, by the time I had breakfast, packed and checked out of the motel, the roads were clear enough for me to make it to the airport in time to catch my flight and my once in a lifetime ski trip was over. But that didn’t mean the muscle pain was over. Not on your life! It took almost a week for my body to recover from that day on the ski slopes. Even though I have never been on snow skis again my entire life, I wouldn’t exchange that experience for anything. I think the only type of snow skiing I would consider now would be in a nice slow horse-drawn sleigh ride with the love of my life by my side.

7

 

18 Jun

TITLE: Book Blast: At The End Of Our Journey by JACK R EAST JR {June 18, 2013} – $50 Amazon Gift Card Giveaway!

End of Our JourneyAt The End Of Our Journey

By: JACK R EAST JR

About the Book

At the End of Our Journey is a personal testimony of the life and Christian faith of the author. The inspiration for the book came from two incredible and powerful dreams about Jack’s Christian faith. The dreams were experienced in November of 2010 on two consecutive mornings. Jack awoke from both dreams with precise and detailed memories of the events and emotions felt during the dreams. He can recall all of the events of both dreams two years later. To be able to remember all of the details of both dreams is very unusual for him and for most other dreamers.

The two dreams did not reveal anything new about his Christian faith. The first dream expressed all of the doubts, fears, and questions that all followers of the Christian faith have asked themselves many times. The second dream was a direct confirmation from God that all of the promises of the Christian faith are true and will happen for all who believe in Christ’s redemption and follow his teachings. Words cannot adequately describe the events and emotions of the second dream. The author has difficulty finding words to describe the emotions experienced in his dreams, but he can share the following conclusions about his dreams and the Christian faith with you.

He experienced the finality of knowing that he had died.
He knew the joy of knowing that his Christian faith allowed him to conquer death.
He felt hope and joy to know that his spirit had conquered death and was rising
into Heaven.

He was overcome with joy, peace, contentment, fulfillment, and the sure
knowledge that the only place he could possibly be was in Heaven. No other
place could feel so good and right.
He cannot adequately describe how it felt to know that God was there to
welcome him to Heaven where he heard his powerful and loving voice
say to him,

“Jack, I am glad you are here,
I have been waiting for you.”

How could he describe hearing God’s welcome end with the
following words…

“but, I am not ready for you yet.”

At the End of Our Journey is Jack’s attempt to share with you the wonderful experience of his life, dreams, and Christian faith. His wish is that you may also know the joy of the personal presence of God in your life and feel the full depth and beauty of His powerful love. And that you may receive a taste of what awaits for us at the end of our journey of Christian faith.

Get the PAPERBACK on Amazon!

Jack EastJACK R EAST JR

Jack was born in Albuquerque, New Mexico, in September of 1940. In 1945 his family moved to Southern California where he lived for 30 years. He started his journey of Christian faith in 1956 at the age of sixteen. Jack married his wife Barbara in 1961 and their marriage has lasted for over fifty years. Jack started his career as a CPA, and he and Barbara started their family while living in Southern California.

Jack and Barbara moved to the far north coast of California in 1975. Jack continued to work at his accounting and tax practice as he and Barbara raised a family of three great sons. Their boys and their spouses have provided them with four precious grand children. Both family and the Christian faith have always been important parts of the life of Jack and Barbara. At age 72, Jack is still working at his accounting and income tax practice with Barbara’s help. Retirement is under consideration, but it is not their greatest priority at this time.

In November of 2010 Jack experienced two incredible dreams about his Christian faith. The dreams were the inspiration for writing a book and for this website. The dreams have started a new chapter in the life and Christian faith of Jack R. East, Jr. at age 72.

Follow JACK R EAST JR

Website | Facebook

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Enter below to enter a $50 amazon gift card, sponsored by author JACK R EAST JR!

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Wild Mushrooms

17 Jun

My Take

DiVoran Lites

Author, Poet and Artist

I journal every morning. Two of the things I do are suggestions from Jill Badonsky in her book, “The Awe-Manac.”  First I paste a page from a scripture calendar in the journal. Then I write a name for myself for each day, something made-up, whatever pops into my head, and after that, I write a list of things I get to do today. Last week  I noticed it was June 9. Here’s most of my journal entry for that day.

Today I get to celebrate Ivan’s birthday. He would be 98, if he hadn’t died ten years ago. He was our dad, my brother’s and mine.We always celebrated his birthday and Father’s Day combined. Our favorite gift was a box of chocolate covered cherries. He treasured them so much we found them still in his underwear drawer untouched at Christmas.

One time, Ivan made his own hand-rolled chocolates. They took a lot of time and trouble and they were delicious.

Another time he brewed beer in a huge stoneware crock and put it in his daughter room. (That’s me.) Her boyfriend came over to visit one time when Ivan wasn’t there and the daughter was talking about the beer and the boyfriend wanted to see it. When he looked at the foamy crock and smelled the aroma, he wanted to try it. So she dipped a glassful for him. Ivan didn’t consider the brew to be done, and maybe it wasn’t, because the boyfriend felt sick soon after that and went home.

The ultimate test of loyalty and trust was when Bill and I visited Mother and Dad in Ft. Bragg, in northern California. Dad invited us to go out in a field with him and pick mushrooms that would accompany the steaks he was char grilling that night. He showed us what to look for and set us loose in the field. It was as much fun as an Easter egg hunt and the mushrooms tasted wonderful and memorable with the steak. We felt fine after we ate and still do. (Don’t try this at home, mushrooms can be poisonous)

The food Dad liked best was a mess of ham hocks and pinto beans with onions. He usually cooked them in a pressure cooker. That can be a dangerous undertaking, but he was undaunted, even knowing that people had blown up their pressure cooker and had to clean beans off their ceilings. Beans are gassy you know. That never happened to Dad. He had control over his cooking.

I must admit, in some ways, Dad was what is fondly called a character. Whenever you felt you had to ask a question you’d get one of two answers. He chose the one that felt most appropriate to him. You may use them if you need them. Dad would be honored.

1.    “Not knowing and having no means of ascertaining, I feel a certain delicacy in indefinitely stating.”

I always wondered where that one came from and when he took the time to memorize it. Still do. I memorized it too. One more thing before I tell you his other answer. Dad wasn’t exactly an academic, more a work-with-his hands kind of guy. After he retired, he lived next door to a man who once was a teacher. Dad called him the professor, and he fixed a lot of household items for him. He said if the professor left him alone to get on with it, he wouldn’t charge him anything, but if he stayed around to watch and talk he would charge five dollars an hour. However, any time the professor wanted to help, it would cost him ten dollars because whatever he did, Dad would have to do all over again.

So anyhow, here’s Dad’s second favorite answer to most questions:

2.    “Are you writing a book?”

“No.”
       End of subject.

But then one day after I had started writing a book, I asked him a question and he said, “Are you writing a book?” I knew I’d surprise him when I said yes, and then he’d have to answer my question, so I said,

“Yes.” That was so gratifying. Surely he’d be proud.

Leave that chapter out.” Whoosh, I wasn’t going to get an answer after all.

But you know, it could have partially been his, “Are you writing a book, “that influenced me to actually write one. After all, most of us want to please our parents. Anyhow, I enjoy writing books and I thank Dad, for his interest and for his unique personality.

Psalm 103:13 
As a father has compassion on his children, so the LORD has compassion on those who fear him; (NIV)

Ivan

Ivan

My Father’s Legacy

16 Jun

SUNDAY MEMORIES

 Judy Wills

 JUDY

                                                     

 Since this is Father’s Day, I would like to tell you a bit about my father.  He was born in 1892.  He was 20 years older than my mother.

Daddy’s father was a circuit preacher, going from place to place in Louisiana and Texas.  He fathered 13 children.  Most remained as farmers or farmers wives.  However, several left the farm for other occupations.  Uncle Ed moved to Shreveport, LA, and owned a typewriter store.  Uncle Emory, the youngest of the 13 children, was on his way to being a church-related leader, when he was murdered on Christmas Day, 1931.  He was 23 years old.  As the story goes, he was coaching a youth basketball team.  His team had played a rival team and won.  The other team was not happy about it.  On that Christmas Day, Emory was on his way to see his fiancé, when he was set upon by the other team and beaten to death.  I didn’t learn these details until about 2000 – my father and grandmother had always told the story that he was in a horrific car wreck, and he died.

As a youth, Daddy enjoyed playing basketball.  I remember him bragging about what a great left-hook-shot he had, and how much he enjoyed the game.As I was growing 2up, he always enjoyed watching professional and college football on TV.  The Green Bay Packers were the team to beat during that day.  And on New Year’s Day, he would have four different college Bowl games going at once – a small TV on top of the large TV, and a radio in two different rooms of the house with different games on.  Used to drive my mother crazy.

My father attended Louisiana 3College.  His studies were interrupted by World War I.  He refused to carry a weapon, so they placed him in the medical corps.  He was in France, I know, and stayed there for a while after the war, studying at Toulouse University in Toulouse, France.  It was founded in 122

He graduated with a B.M. in Music from Baylor University, Waco, Texas, in 1924.  He was in the very first graduating class in music from B.U. – and there were only three members of that graduating class.

4

Baylor University Music Program Class of 1924

He was president of the Baptist Student Union on that campus.  He was also one of the original “Invincibles” – a group of young people that went to different states/cities in the summers and worked with Sunday Schools and Vaca5tion Bible Schools.

I know that he went to Baptist Bible Institute (B.B.I., founded 1917), which later became New Orleans Baptist Theological Seminary.

He was the very first paid, full-time Minister of Education in the Southern Baptist Convention.  He was the Texas Associate Sunday School Secretary from 1927 until 1945.  At that point, we moved from Dallas to Albuquerque, New Mexico, and Daddy became the New Mexico Sunday School Secretary until 1961, when he retired.  He died April 7, 1967, just one month away from my parent’s 30th anniversary in May.

f you have heard of the Southern Baptist Convention’s conference 6centers in Ridgecrest, NC, and Glorieta, NM, I am proud to say that my father had a hand in getting Glorieta established.  He was one of those that said “we need to have an encampment here in the west.”  Glorieta has a very special place in my heart, especially since my Dad was part of that.

He was very gentle man.  I never heard him speak a bad word about 7anyone.  He always looked for the good in people.  He loved being outdoors and went deer hunting every season.  We ate a lot of venison, and loved it.  The deer in NM ate a lot of pine nuts and good stuff, so the meat was not “gamey” at all, but very flavorful, much like beef to us.  He and mother both hunted sometimes, as did Daddy and my brother.

I have a picture of him and my brother each with a deer on the car.8

I remember one year they each got a deer, and later Daddy got an elk.  We ate really well that year.

9One thing about him – if he hadn’t bagged his deer before the weekend, he would have his own worship service out in the woods.  Someone asked him one time:  “you mean, if it was Sunday and an 8-point buck strolled by, you wouldn’t shoot him?”  Daddy’s reply was that he never even loaded his rifle on Sundays.  He was a very dedicated man.

Being a farm boy, he never got that out of his system.  He tried to grow a small garden in our back yard in Albuquerque, but he was gone so much that the garden usually died out.  One thing he did manage to care for was a huge peach tree in our back yard.  He would faithfully wrap the tree in cheesecloth every Spring, to keep the10 birds and bugs out of the peaches.  He was very successful with that tree, and we used to have peaches that were about 4″ in diameter and the sweetest I’ve ever eaten.  Mother would make peach jam, peach preserves, peach pie, home-made fresh-churned peach ice cream.

He was an incredible man, and I am proud to be his daughter.

Dad~Love~Faith

15 Jun

On the Porch

Onisha Ellis

Onisha

 

Back in the late fifties, going to church was a much more sociable activity than it is today. Once the service was over the adults would linger outside the church, on the sidewalk just to chat and enjoy being together. The children, glad to be freed from the trial of sitting still would run around like uncaged monkeys playing tag and screaming until a parent shushed us.  One particular evening, the air had a chill to it and I stood Lucerne Parkshivering next to my dad. Without making a big  “to do” about it, he took off his suit jacket and put it around my shoulders. It covered my small body completely and smelled like my dad’s Vitalis hair oil and a faint scent of cigarrete smoke. I felt completely safe and warm covered by his jacket. That was my first picture of how much God loved me.

My dad and mom loved to fish and we drove to the east coast of Florida every Friday night to fish. In my childhood I can’t remember a time I didn’t have a fishing pole. I started with a cane pole in the local lakes. When I was considered big enough to have a real fishing rod and reel, it was a small Zebco. I remember my dad teaching me first how to bait my hook, release the line and how important it was to “hold your pole Loved catching the big ones.up” when you were reeling in a fish. Next he taught me how to tie a hook onto my line and change the weights. He wanted me to be self-sufficient but he was always there to help me out when I tangled my line or man the long dip net when I had a fish to big for me to reel up. This was my second picture of how God loved me. Like my dad, God would always be there to help me untangle my life and he would be my “dip net” when I called out to him.

Matthew 7:11 says-“ If you then, being evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father who is in heaven give good things to those who ask Him!”

 

My dad was a humble man and because of his humility, it took me many years to realize what a truly remarkable father he was.

Me and dad

Me and dad

T

 

The Epitome of Love

14 Jun

The Epitome of Love

” One word frees us of the weight and pain of life; that word is “love.

The irony of that quote is it was written before Christ by a Greek

Tragedian.  We are so blessed to know that God came in the flesh to

redeem us back unto himself. That was true love.

I thrive on love.

There is promise in the air.

I stand on the word of God.

I see Him everywhere.

He is in the air I breathe-

His promises fill my soul.

Without Him I can do nothing,

With Him, I am whole.

We are all so different-

Still all of God’s own plan.

I marvel how He leads us

To support our fellow man.

I thirst to hear the words you speak-

I long to know your soul.

Tho diverse in our interests-

Our similarities make us whole.

 

 

Springtime in Wisconsin

12 Jun

A Slice of Life

Bill Lites

1

During a recent trip to the Oshkosh AirVenture Museum, and to visit other local Wisconsin museums and airshows, I was amazed to see the huge numbers of Canadian Geese in and around most of the areas, I traveled.

I didn’t pay much attention to this until on one occasion as I traveled down a four-lane city street, and had to stop for a family of geese crossing the road.  There was Mama leading the way with three tiny goslings trailing along behind 2her and Papa bringing up the rear.  What a sight!  All this rush-hour traffic brought to a halt by these tiny creatures.

The next day I went to visit a Railroad Museum in another city.  After viewing the information video in the main building, I started down the walkway to the Engine House, and was struck by the amount of what looked like dog poop on the sidewalk.  I thought, “These people need to tell the dog owners to pick up after their dogs, or at least the museum needs to wash down the sidewalks once i3n a while.”   Being careful where I stepped, I moved onto the grass to get a better view for a camera shot, and noticed that the grass was littered with the same “dog poop.”

Then it dawned on me that this was Canadian Geese droppings.  I should have realized what I was 4seeing sooner, because I had seen fields and ponds covered with Canadian Geese no matter where I had gone on this trip.

On one evening during this trip, I had dinner with my niece and her husband and I related my goose story to them.  He told me his company had to rig special anti-geese devices over their retention ponds to try to keep the geese from congregating.  In addition, they have contracted with a private company who brought 5their dogs to chase the geese off their property.  The Canadian Goose population has recently increased in many areas to the point that they are now considered a pest and a threat to airline traffic (Ref. US Airways flight 1549).

On another day, at the Old World Wisconsin historic site, in one of the sheep pins, I was thrilled to see 6four brand new baby lambs.  The guide told us that two of them had be born the day before and two (twins) had been born just that morning.  They were the cutest little things you could imagine.

I didn’t think much more about it until I was traveling back across the countryside toward the motel and saw a large open field with maybe one hundred sheep grazing and about the same number of small 7baby lambs staying close to their mothers.  What a sight!  I guessed it must truly be the lambing season there in central Wisconsin.

Then on another day, while driving to another museum, I spotted a small herd of Buffalo grazing in a field of yellow dandelions.  And, sure enough, there were a few new-born buffalo in the herd.  Now I thought the West was the only place where people were raising buffalo now a days.  I8 was glad to see even these small herds of them there in Wisconsin.    I guess they will prosper most anywhere they are not being hunted.  Ever had a Buffalo Burger?  I had one years ago and it was great!

I guess you would have to say I got a real close-up and personal view of what it’s like to live in Wisconsin in the Spring.  It was a wonderful experience, and the airplane museums were great too!

Book Blast: Winter’s Past by Mary E Hanks 6/11/13 – $50 Amazon Gift Card Giveaway!

11 Jun

Winter’s Past (2nd Chance Series)

By Mary E Hanks

About the Book:

Ty wants to make things right. Winter can’t forget their past.

Winter Cowan is scheduled to speak in Coeur d’Alene, Idaho. A city she’s avoided for ten years because of Ty Williams, her ex-husband.

But what are the chances of Ty showing up in church? And didn’t she already forgive him? Even though he broke her heart and ruined their short, six-month marriage? She had to forgive him to go on with her life. To preach the gospel. To share God’s love across the nation.

Then, like a tidal wave, the word “Forgive” crashes over the worn sands of her past. Winter realizes her heart does still rip a little each time she remembers what Ty did to their marriage. To her.

And just as she feared, Ty shows up at the meetings in Coeur d’Alene. Only this man is someone she wouldn’t recognize if she saw him on the street. He’s older, sure, but he’s…different. Radically changed from the guy she once knew, he stands before her in a prayer line, crying—crying!—and humbly asks her forgiveness. This man who broke her heart, betrayed her, is now gut-wrenchingly sincere in his apology, prays for her like a long-lost friend, tenderly reaches into the forgotten places of her heart, and he has a request.

One unbelievable request that could change everything…

Download on Kindle | Purchase Paperback

Mary E Hanks

WWMary E Hanks is an author of 2nd chance stories and a playwright/director for youth theater. When she’s not writing novels, she’s usually working on a play. She loves encouraging young people to share their talents, and an added bonus is getting to “see” her words brought to life onstage. At present, she’s directing her 24th production.

Mary served as a pastor’s wife in Alaska and also worked in Christian education for many years. She and Jason have been married for 37 years and have raised four children. They now live in the country near Blanchard, Idaho, a place where deer and wild turkeys play in their front yard.

A romantic at heart, Mary believes we all need a 2nd chance sometime.

Follow Mary E Hanks
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We would like to send out a special THANK YOU to all of the CrossReads book blast bloggers!

Little Things Mean a Lot

10 Jun

My Take

 DiVoran Lites

Author, Poet and Artist

One of our adult Sunday School teachers happened to mention the other day he was sitting in the open door of his garage looking out and talking to God when a neighbor going by on her bike stopped to ask if he would fill her water bottle. He gave her a new one. He has done that before.

Every Sunday I see a man all dressed up in his black suit with his Bible in his hand waiting for a ride to church. He stands as straight as a soldier and I admire his faithfulness and that of the person who picks him up, sometimes after we have gone by. They don’t go to our church.

Funny what happens when you do only one little thing over and over. Your good deeds add up.

A woman in my class is a red-hat lady and she loves thrift store sales. You wouldn’t believe the bags of children’s clothes she finds in perfect condition for little or nothing. She brings them to church for families who can’t afford a lot of clothes for growing children.

Our other Sunday School teacher works at the hospital as a volunteer to take people to their cars in wheel-chairs. He’s a father himself and he gets a big kick out of being around teenagers who volunteer for the same job. What a precious counselor I’m sure he is.

I know someone who goes to the home of her aged mother-in-law where other members of the family care diligently for her and bathes her twice a week. She makes it special with soaps, and powders and takes supper for both of them that evening.

We hear so much about movers and shakers, about heroes, and heads of charities, but we don’t hear that much about the little people doing the little deeds many times a year. I’d like to celebrate them, wouldn’t you?

The song, “Little Things Mean a Lot,” is a love song, and why not. We show love with our small, faithful, routine deeds. Maybe we’ll discover that they pile up and if we could see the accumulation of them or the way they have changed people’s lives, we’ll be surprised. Won’t that be encouraging?

dog

THE ELEPHANT WALK

9 Jun

SUNDAY MEMORIES

 Judy Wills

 

JUDY

                                                     

 2When I was a small child, we lived in Dallas, Texas.  My mother’s mother and father lived in San Antonio, so it was probably a short ride (about four hours in today’s time) for a trip to visit with Granny and Grandpa.  I have many pictures of my brother and me in Granny’s yard.  They lived in the country, so there were lots of animals – particularly peacocks, cats and dogs.  Interesting times.

 Mother told me once that, as I was sitting on Granny’s back step, they heard me scream and then cry out.  When they rushed to see what was the matter – they discovered that the peacock had plucked my peanut butter and jelly sandwich out of my hand, and I was furious!

 San Antonio has a lot to offer – whether you are living there or just visiting.  And we 3found that one of the best zoos in this country is in San Antonio.  I actually remember visiting there often.  Remember – we moved from Texas to New Mexico when I was just four years old – so that is a long memory!  But one memory that has stayed with me for a very long time, is the elephant ride we took.  I have pictures of my brother and me on one of the elephants.
4While I don’t know whether or not the San Antonio Zoo still offers those elephant rides, I do know the zoo was still offering elephant rides when our girls were young and we were living in San Antonio.  I have pictures of both our girls – along with me – on an elephant ride.  I’m not sure Janet remembers that ride – she was pretty young – but I’m pretty sure that Karen does.

5

Apparently an elephant ride isn’t such an uncommon event.  Fred’s sister and her husband took a trip to Africa not too long ago, and they took an elephant ride, as well!

6

It’s always been interesting to me just what my mind has stored away.  But it only takes a comment, or a picture, to bring an event back into focus.  And the elephant ride of my childhood stands out as a grand event.