A thankful heart causes us to look upward.
It causes us to look around,
and causes us to look within
where the peace of God is found.
The number one secret to happiness
is a grateful heart.
Beginning our day with a prayer of gratitude
brings tranquility from the start.
Fear is the father of failure-
a negative emotion, to be sure.
Replace it with a positive thought.
Failure you will no longer endure.
“When we choose not to focus on
what is missing from our life,
but are grateful for the abundance that
is present, we experience Heaven on earth.”
Author unknown.
My friend stopped by the other day and rumbled in her purse. “You have to see the pictures I took during our trip,” she said. I smiled. “Oops,” she added, “I always forget you…well…that you can’t see.”
“I forget myself,” I said with a chuckle. (I like folks with a sense of humor.) For me, having no sight is a way of life…actually a wonderfully blessed life. My days sweep by with gratitude, so much thankfulness. And for that reason I thought I’d share my unique recipe for this Thanks giving dinner. I don’t mind if you copy it and serve it to your loved ones.
Gather the ingredients stored in the cabinet of God’s Word.
Stir together large portions of His promises, spoonful’s of His direction, and dashes of His admonitions.
Place in large bowl several cups of commitment to read His Word.
Add generous amounts of faith to cover all traces of doubt.
Blend together, adding sprinkles of laughter, of enjoyment, fun, and unexpected surprises.
Bake in the oven of your heart till triumph is golden brown.
With songs of thanksgiving playing in the background, present it to the guests who come into your life. And unlike the rest of the world, instead of entering the doors to stress, gloom or anxiety for the days to come, “Enter his gates with thanksgiving and his courts with praise; give thanks to him and praise his name” (Psalm 100:4).
Why? “For the LORD is good and his love endures forever; his faithfulness continues through all generations” (Psalm 100:5).
It’s your turn, can you share some things you’ll be giving thanks for this year? Would love, love to read them. You can send them to me via comment. Did you know most of my writings are drawn from my bestselling book, Simply Salsa: Dancing Without Fear at God’s Fiesta? Did you get your own copy yet? It’s available HERE.
One day I saw a seemingly elderly person riding an adult tricycle with a dog on a leash. What a good way to exercise your dog if you can’t walk well, I thought They traveled slowly so that the dog had time to eat grass, examine a fire hydrant, and stare at bigger, barking dogs behind fences.
Actually, I thought the person was a man who wore a tee-shirt, cargo shorts, athletic shoes and a baseball cap. Today when I met the pair on the trail, however I learned the rider is a female, and so is the terrier. I’ll call them Sue and Bess.
As we talked there on the trail, I read Sue’s hat brim. The words were, “Thank a Vet.” I wondered if she was a vet herself or if the hat belonged to her husband. It didn’t take long to find out, because Sue began to tell me what a fine service dog Bess is. Seeing my curiosity about her own condition, Sue told me she has a heart problem because of an industrial accident with a poisonous substance. She said, I’m the only one alive out of seventeen people who were in the space that day.
Sue and her dog went their own way then, and I went mine. In a moment, however, I turned around and there they were coming back. I like to walk at my own pace when I’m ready to go. It’s often at different parts of the day. I’ve made some friends on the trail and we always enjoy running into each other. Sometimes there will be two and sometimes three of us standing and talking for a short time.
On this day, the trike went downhill fast and the little dog trotted along on short legs. Going uphill the trike went slowly and laboriously. We eventually got into a rhythm and as we went along Sue talked about herself and Bess.
Bess’s story included being picked at the SPCA over a black lab pup, which, as Sue put it, would have been a lot easier to train. “It took eight years for Bess to start paying attention. She’s been a real asset, though, in the last four years when I’ve really needed her,” Sue said.
Sue also told me that in the service, she was a professional dog trainer. She trained Rottweilers and German Shepherds. I asked what the dogs’ jobs were and she said, “Bomb sniffing for the Rottweilers, and drug detection for the German Shepherds.” Sue was also an Intelligence Agent for a spell. She says there are an awful lot of lies in the news these days – she knows.
Besides the heart problem Sue has PTSD and epilepsy. When she’s about to have an epileptic attack, Bess insists on going home an hour and a half before the cataclysm arrives. If they are on the trail she turns around in the direction of home and barks continually until Sue consents to go along. Sue doesn’t understand how Bess knows she’s going to have an attack. Bess was never trained for that.
When we got back into our neighborhood, the two of them had to travel in the street. I said goodbye and thanked Sue for serving our country. She said, “Thank you so much for saying that. People hardly even talk to me. Maybe I’ll tell you a funny story next time.”
As I’ve mentioned in previous musings, I’ve been going through stacks and stacks of papers and pictures that we have accumulated. I’ve found a number of cartoons that my Mother had cut out – probably the newspaper – and sent them to me. And I’ve used some of them in my Old Things R New postings.
Today, however, I would like to share something that we found in my Mother’s Bible following her death.
She was always a hard worker, whether it was at the job where she was paid (she was an accountant, and worked at Kirtland AFB in Albuquerque to supplement Daddy’s paycheck, to purchase things that we might not have been able to have otherwise), or when she purchased and opened the Merle Norman Cosmetic Studio, or when she was cleaning the house, cooking our meals, doing the laundry…. She was a hard worker.
I think the only time I ever saw her sit down and “rest” was after dinner and clean-up from that, to watch a little TV. One of her enjoyments – especially in her later years – was to sit down after breakfast, with a cup of her favorite coffee, and peruse the newspaper. She would read it from cover to cover.
But this little snippet of information is a real insight into her life. I think it was a testimony to the way she lived her life, and the way she saw life. It certainly makes one take notice about the wisdom of the words.
Yesterday, I went to the SPCA to cancel a pickup appointment I had made for a desk. I’d realized how fond I was of that desk and that I wanted to keep it, so no pickup.
While I was in the thrift store I bought a hard-cover book for a dollar. It’s a romantic suspense novel by Elizabeth Lowell called, Amber Beach. I then went to the library and searched the donation shelves as usual, but this time I found nothing to buy.
In the new books section however, Voracious: A hungry reader cooks her way through great books, by Cara Nicoletti waited. Who wouldn’t want to read about books and food in the same tome? Cara Nicoletti grew up spending time in her grandfather’s butcher shop and eventually became a butcher, baker, (but not candlestick maker) herself. She always loved books and many of the days in the shop were spent sitting behind the cash-register reading. In Voracious she writes about the books she has read and offers her own recipes for many of the dishes she found described there. The first is, “Little House in the Big Woods Breakfast Sausage.” Cara also teaches sausage making classes. I probably will just read the recipes and maybe they’ll change my cooking for the better by osmosis. I do love this type of memoir and this one has everything you could ask for. I took it to the desk and checked it out. It’s good and I recommend it.
When I got home, Novel Cure filled my mail box in a brown wrapper from an Amazon source. I was pretty excited about getting that one. It will last a good long time. It’s so jam-packed with witty writings about novels that I can’t spare the time to count them all. Novel Cure is a bibliotherapy book meant to help people select novels that show characters as either good or bad role models and can help with all kinds of mental and emotional hurricanes. I wasn’t as interested in using it for my personal aberrations as for the enjoyment of reading about books in a book written by witty and educated writers like Ella Berthound and Susan Elderkin. Someday I may run into one of them in a discard situation.
When I pulled the Novel Cure from its envelope I had a decision to make. Which one should I open first? It was like trying to decide whether to have a chocolate sundae with nuts or just a little dish of mint chocolate chip ice cream. Since the Novel Cure is a dense, thick book and I can keep it as long as I want, I decided to go for the library book first. I could read, Elizabeth Lowell’s Amber Beach any time and then if I liked it share it with my neighbor.
I realize that one of my favorite subjects for book is books. I have a yellowed copy of Parnassuson Wheels by Christopher Marley, copyright 1917. Of course mine is a later edition. I’ve read it twice and plan to read it again soon. So far it’s my favorite except for one I had by an author I can’t remember (nor can I recall the title) but I can probably find it again someday if I try. Of course none of them is only about books. They’re about characters and what they do and what happens to them. That’s what I like. If they’re well done they’re the memoirs, too, of the people who compiled them.
Another book I’m thrilled with right now is The Singer Trilogy, by Calvin Miller: the mythic retelling of the story of the New Testament. I guess that makes it about a book, doesn’t it? It consists of Singer,The Song, and The Finale. I loved it so much that I have purchased it on Audible so I can listen to it on my phone. I haven’t read anything that so jolted my soul and spirit or that gave me so much hope and encouragement since I started reading the Bible over 60 years ago. I got, The Singer from the church library discard shelf. I couldn’t believe it had been left there. Was it just for me?
Caution to vegetarians, Ms Nicoletti is a butcher and some pictures on the website would be for other butchers to admire. But those of us whose parent was a butcher can probably either enjoy or overlook them.
That’s not fair! With wrinkled tissue in hand, we stomp our feet in frustration. We had asked, prayed and pleaded. But, to our utter disappointment, God still said “No.”
Have you been there? God didn’t smile at us with the answer we wanted. But that’ not the worst. We look around and what do we see? We see those who don’t follow God’s instructions, don’t know God’s Word, and don’t even attend church. But, they seemingly live happy, trouble-free lives.
“What’s with that, God?” we want to ask.
Confusion adds to the unfairness. But not to worry. We don’t have to know how to express that bewilderment. David did that for us: “I almost lost my footing. My feet were slipping, and I was almost gone. For I envied the proud when I saw them prosper despite their wickedness. They seem to live such painless lives; their bodies are so healthy and strong. They don’t have troubles like other people; they’re not plagued with problems like everyone else. They wear pride like a jeweled necklace and clothe themselves with cruelty. These fat cats have everything their hearts could ever wish for!” (Psalm 73:2-7 The Message).
Like David, I don’t let up my rant. This is not the way it should be. Why do they have it so good? Lord, after all, I’m not a bad chica. I really deserve better. But “Then I realized that my heart was bitter, and I was all torn up inside. I was so foolish and ignorant—I must have seemed like a senseless animal to you. Yet I still belong to you; you hold my right hand. You guide me with your counsel, leading me to a glorious destiny. Whom have I in heaven but you? I desire you more than anything on earth. My health may fail, and my spirit may grow weak, but God remains the strength of my heart; he is mine forever” (Psalm 73:21-26).
It was 84 degrees in Orlando a few days ago. Yet, I carried my jacket inside the local movie theater. The interior is like an igloo. And the fact that I’m always cold doesn’t help.
We walked in and ran into the friendly manager. As we chatted with her, I asked her, “Why do you guys keep the temperature so low? I think next time I’ll bring my earmuffs.”
She laughed. “The temperature is set as if the theater was full,” she said. “Even if there are 5 people, the temperature setting never changes.
“Oh.”
I put on my jacket as hubby and I headed to find our seats.
That night under my cozy covers, I had a comforting thought. Contrary to the one-setting thermostat at the theatre, God doesn’t have one setting to His love. He’s provision is unique to each of us, our situation and our challenges.
He doesn’t give us less than we need. He’s not a moment late or a moment too soon. His love is uniquely customized according to the emotional coldness we might feel on that moment, on that day or season.
Have you been there? As you read this, you might be in the ditch of hardship, yet He has the rope long enough to get you out. That’s because He’s so divinely aware of all our struggles. He knows the degree of our pain and has the exact amount of comfort. He knows the depth of our financial failures and has the perfect provision to lift us up. And when overwhelmed by life’s trials, He has the right quantity and customized solutions.
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.
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.”
(C) Copyright 2012-2024 Old Things R New All rights reserved. This website is an Amazon affiliate and the income from sales helps to defray the cost of running the site.
One day I saw a seemingly elderly person riding an adult tricycle with a dog on a leash. What a good way to exercise your dog if you can’t walk well, I thought They traveled slowly so that the dog had time to eat grass, examine a fire hydrant, and stare at bigger, barking dogs behind fences.
Yesterday, I went to the SPCA to cancel a pickup appointment I had made for a desk. I’d realized how fond I was of that desk and that I wanted to keep it, so no pickup.
Old Things R New 