Tag Archives: MondayBlogs

Bridget’s Mustang

12 Sep

My Take

DiVoran Lites

1a

Photography by Melody Hendrix

 
Trader come down the draw,

Truck, trailer, red cloud dust.

I saw he had a filly,

And own her, that I must.

 

“I’ll take that paint;” I say,

“It looks like she’s got soul.

I’ll get a stallion in,

Next year we’ll have a foal.”

 

“You keep an eye on her,

“She’s mustang through and through,

A wild one from the range.

Foal next year? Maybe two.

 

“You call me ‘bout that horse,”

The trader wasn’t done.

You need to talk ‘round here.

It’s all that makes life fun.

 

Christmas Park

5 Sep

My Take

DiVoran Lites

1

 

 

I danced once to a fiddle.

Bill smiled, the fiddle-man played.

I stepped and swirled in a picnic pavilion

No one else in the park

No one said a word

One fine day.

 

 

 

 

Are We Allowed to Pray

14 Sep

My Take 

DiVoran Lites

Author, Poet and Artist

My beloved child in whom I am well pleased, when I look at you, I see my son, Jesus, who died that you might be made right with me.

You have been well schooled in the myth that unless you are sinless I will not hear your prayers. It is a sad thing when teachers take the words of the Pharisees in the Bible and twist them so that my own beloved children think they can’t communicate with me.

Every day dawns fresh for you my dear. Do not major on shortcomings, but major on the robe of righteousness that I have laid over you. When I look at you I see not what you used to be, but I see Jesus, my beloved Son in whom I am well pleased. Pray to your heart’s content. I hear, and I answer.

I Am Covered Over With the Robe of Righteousness

Serendipities, Synchronicities, and Miracles

18 May

My Take

DiVoran LItes

Author, Poet and ArtistSerendipity means an unexpectedly happy experience, and to me synchronicity means a happy coincidence. My own definition of miracle contains both, but I always attribute a large or a small miracle to a loving Heavenly Father.

Last Thursday evening, I went to a local elementary school to see my young friend, Janicia, dance in a playlet about bullying. As I walked into the rapidly filling cafeteria, I searched every row of tables for Janicia’s family and for my art friend, Lanie Tan and her daughter Misa. I looked at every face, but saw no one I knew.

I found a seat down front with enough room for me and one or two others. As I started to sit down, I looked out the big window and there was Lanie looking in, waving, and throwing kisses. I pointed to the empty seat and she nodded with enthusiasm. Almost immediately, she was there beside me. I didn’t know where the other family was going to sit, but I relaxed humming, “God will find a way, when there seems to be no way.”

Misa was somewhere else in the building with friends and Lanie and I had a good chat. Lanie was wearing a mask because she had a cold and didn’t want to spread germs. We got into our talk and then she had to leave because a coughing fit came on.

In a couple of minutes, Janicia’s mother came in carrying their eight-months-old baby, Dee-Dee, and a big diaper bag. She plopped the baby on my lap and there she sat perfectly satisfied, looking around with big brown eyes, good as gold.

On stage, Janicia wore a t-shirt that said, “Girl Power.” The play was about bullying. The man who arranged it does that at schools to increase awareness.

After the performance, the children had hot-dogs and we waited for the drawing for a new computer. By this time, Janicia, her mom, her dad, and her four-year-old brother, Bobby had gathered. Lanie, and Misa, plus Misa’s three friends and the elderly gentleman who is guardian to one of them sat facing each other. We managed to include everyone in a pleasant conversation.

Suddenly, it was time for the drawing. Misa sat next to me with her tickets and I asked if she was going to win something. She nodded yes. I happened to be looking at the ticket closest to me and saw that Misa’s first number matched the called one, then the second, the third, the fourth — all matched.

Lanie told Misa that if they won the computer they would give it away. The reader read the last number, it matched, too. “I won!” Misa said. Her mother shook her head not believing it. I nodded mine, yes.

All evening God was casting serendipities, synchronicities, and miracles around like falling stars. The lady who won the computer on the second go-around indicated that she really needed it. People who knew each other got together, others, once strangers happened to gather and feel at home with each other. It was like a party.

Sometimes, I can hardly wait to see what God will do next. I do know that he loves to do jobs and activities with us and He enjoys seeing His children enjoying each other’s company, the biggest miracle of all.

I John 4:7-8

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Heaven

4 May

My Take

DiVoran Lites

Author, Poet and Artist

For most of my life, I’ve been wondering what Heaven is like, or will be like for me personally. One of the first blogs I Stairway to Heaven with MLKwrote was about the time, when I was five-years-old, that I saw the neighbor on her way to Heaven. I may have dreamed it — doesn’t matter if I did or not.

Anyhow, I saw her walk down to the end of our street and up a staircase and I knew where she was going. Later that day Mother told me the neighbor had died and gone to Heaven. Sorry, I don’t know the doctrine in this story. I do know that seeing people go up a staircase is not uncommon. I Googled it.

In college, I wrote an essay wondering what Heaven was like and the class discussed it until the teacher brought us back to earth.

I read a reliable “doctrinal” book called, Heaven, by Randy Alcorn that I enjoyed, but I still wanted to know more.

Finally, a tiny flame started to flicker in my imagination and I came up with an answer that satisfies me. I take no responsibility for whether this is true or not and when you get there, don’t blame me if it’s nothing like I’ve thought up. Ask God for your own vision of Heaven.

I don’t know who will greet me or what that will be like, but it will be a warm welcome, I know that much.

In the song, “Amazing Grace,” it says, “When we’ve been there ten-thousand years, bright shining as the sun, we’ve no less days to sing God’s praise than when we first begun.” So, theology (and practicality) aside, what’s going to keep us entertained for ten thousand years and more?

Here’s my take on it. I will never be alone unless I want to be alone. I’ll be with God, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit as well as the people I have loved, love now, and will love when I meet them. Much of our time will be spent in celebration and praising God.

That leads me to the next phase of my fantasy. I will have challenges (and success). I will learn every song I ever wanted to know, play every instrument I ever wanted to play, and see every sight I ever wanted to see. I will learn, do, and share everything I’ve ever wanted to know, experience, or contribute. Life will be full of awe.

Bill and I aren’t in any hurry to go to Heaven. God is so good to us now. We do everything we can to stay healthy and happy. We try to listen to Him and we ask Him to empower us to do the work He sets out for us. We have accepted Christ’s death on the cross for our sins. That means that when our spirits split out of their cocoons, we will go to Heaven. We will fly free of all pain, confusion, and sorrow. Rejoice now. Rejoice later.

“When we all Get to Heaven.”

Heaven, by Randy Alcorn

Jesus Talks to Children

16 Mar

My Take

 DiVoran Lites 

 Jesus Talks to Children

 

Sunday, we had two princesses, a prince, and a beloved handmaiden in Sunday School. Before we even started singing one of the princesses was pouting because she wanted to go home. It was daddy’s day, but daddy had chosen to bring her to church. All I could offer was for her to go sit with him and his wife (whom she loves). She passed on sitting still and listening to the sermon for adults. I explained how a bad mood affects everyone and asked her to see if she could find a way to become happy about where she was.

For the lesson, I gave each child a sponge on a paper plate. I then explained they could slowly pour their drinking water into it pretending the sponge was their heart, and they were soaking up God’s love. We talked about how we can ask God to love people through us even if we didn’t like them very much. Teacher got to be the unlikeable one, and they squeezed some of the love-water into my sponge. After refilling theirs, they sat quietly and waited for God to say something to them.

We decorated our journal pages, then wrote what God had said to us. Each message was short, but you could tell the children treasured them. I was particularly impressed with one which said, “You will fulfill your goals in 2015.” I happen to know the child’s goal is to get an A in every subject this semester. She can do it too, especially now that she knows God is supporting her in it.

I felt a bit funny about my message, thinking it sounded like a cliche. “Jesus is the greatest.” I read. The children seemed surprised. We’ve discussed cartoon characters, Santa Claus, and Whitney Houston, so I suppose, “Jesus is the greatest,” was news to them. Good news.

Oh, yes, the sad little princess – when we drew titles of songs near the beginning of the class she got, “If You’re Happy and You Know it.” She started laughing even before she told us what her song was.

When the guardian of the other princess came for her, I gave her the sponge and said her child could wash dishes with it. The guardian was thrilled because just before the end of the service the preacher had said that children need to be taught to work. I’m sure this particular woman is already teaching the eight-year-old to work, and many other good things, but she liked the idea that the sponge fit the sermon so well. I did too.

God does talk to us. He talks to children, too. I’ve read that they don’t get a half-pint serving of the Holy Spirit, they get the whole bucketful, just as we adults do.

Jesus called them to himself and said, “Let the children come to me, and forbid them not, for of such is the kingdom of Heaven.”

Luke 18:16

My Dreams for 2015

12 Jan

My Take

DiVoran Lites

Author, Poet and Artist

 

It’s all right to have dreams; plans, hopes, God gives them to us. We’d be lost without them.

I always like to have something to look forward to, don’t you? Sometimes in life we may have big events to go for and sometimes we let our expectations settle into the daily round. Something about the year coming to an end and a new one beginning made me jot down the things I’m looking forward to this year.

I’m not looking for changes in my life. I’m deeply satisfied with what’s going on now. This minute I see Bill in the backyard spotlighted by sunshine as he moves the garden hose.

Bill in yard

 

 

The foliage he’s tending to grows to at least twelve feet tall and he has planted a long hedge of them. They’ll yield large, bright-yellow, daisy-like flowers next spring.

One of our cats just braced herself on the chair to ask me to feed her. I’ve just been around Facebook and caught up on people I care about. Our food is good, and our health is remarkable for our ages.

This year will hold a lot of good books for me to read. I’m looking forward to two I ordered from Communion with God. One is about teaching children to hear from God, and one is a journal where a man hears from God. This is an organization for which I have always held the highest regard and from which I have continued to learn and experience satisfaction in hearing from God for myself. I plan to read health books, too, and I believe we will stay healthy for a long time to come.

Of course, I most look forward to times with the people in my life. I’m not taking classes or joining any new organizations, but I do like my church and the activities there, especially the two Sunday Schools we’re involved in, adult and children’s. I love special times with family members, and I meet new people frequently and have little chats with them.

If unexpected things happen, if they are unsavory and unlovely, I know God will see us through, but God is likely to bring happy challenges into our lives no matter what. Whatever happens, He will see us through. How dull life must be without Him.

Let the New Year begin.

 

 

What is Your Favorite Christmas Activity

11 Dec

On the Porch

Onisha Ellis

I'm a winner

Baking is my favorite Christmas activity. For me it beats decorating hands down. Usually I bake with my grandchildren but this year “the baking season” began in my daughter Rebekah’s kitchen which is a treat for me as usually we are six hundred miles apart. Today’s baking by Rebekah  yielded five different types of cookies,  loaves of vanilla tea bread and muffins large and mini. I contributed a fudge experiment which was a failure as fudge, but it will make some fantastic hot fudge sauce. My major contribution was washing up, you know all the bowls, spatulas, measuring cups and spoons and I enjoyed every minute of it. I have sweet memories of working side by side in the kitchen with my mother and aunts. I think we created some memories today too. Soon we will be back in North Carolina and three generations will be baking together.  I am sure I will be continuing my role as dishwasher-in-chief.

IMG_0695

Rebekah’s favorite recipe source Tea Time magazine

 

As a child, my mother and I had matching aprons. Hers wore out but mine was packed away and brought out for Rebekah, then my granddaughter, Karyssa. The apron Rebekah is wearing in the photo below is a memory apron with three generations of cooks embroidered on it. It will soon be time to create a new apron for my granddaughter.

IMG_0696

Vanilla tea loaves coming out of the oven.

 

 

Giving Thanks for Goats

24 Nov

My Take

DiVoran Lites

Author, Poet and Artist

 

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

 

Matthew 25:35

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

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

Fall is in the Air

3 Nov

My Take

DiVoran Lites

Author, Poet and Artist

Some people call it fall, some say Autumn. It is time for leaves to change and the weather to grow cooler.

This morning as I left the house, I looked forward to my walk on the trail, but one block up I saw many parked cars and a few signs that said, “Garage Sale.” Oops. Oh well, I’d get almost as much exercise going around to greet my neighbors and pursue their histories as I would walking the trail.

 

The first house was Ester’s, she had an orange sherbet-shirt with sparkling jeweled sea horses on it. It said, “Dixie Crossroads,” and since I eat there fairly frequently and always want one of those tee-shirts, I asked her to hold it for me while I went home to get some money.

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Ester started to tell me about being sorry that she had fired our mutual handy-man, Hal. We had heard his side of it too. Ester’s young helper told her to tend to business so I said goodbye and left, my tee-shirt was in good hands. Ester is 80 and has dialysis three times a week, but she still exudes a love of life and a sharp mind.

At the next sale the homeowner had bright eyes and a bowl-type haircut. From her I bought a bed for my cat Jasmine, some pretty Melmac dishes to use for plant saucers, and a brand new timer just like the forty-year-old one I gave away a month ago. I missed it.

Bill was interested in what I was doing home so soon and laughed when I told him about the “garage” sale. Our handy-man, Hal, was with him. We’ve had to do without him once or twice, and I tell you it was hard, just as Ester had started to say.

A few weeks ago, Hal got a, new-to-him car from Car Care. It’s a ministry run by a wonderfully experienced mechanic, Ray, and his wife Alice, (who does the paper work) at the Indian River Methodist Church on howdy fifty called Car-Care. Hal is pretty much destitute even though he works hard much of the time and Car Care was looking for someone to give a refurbished car to (for a small pittance). Hal ended up with a Ford Taurus he needed so he could go to work and go fishing. He loved his old Datsun pick-up, but every time he drove it heated up and wouldn’t start again. The body had patches welded on it. Now he was ga-ga over his Taurus, and couldn’t say enough about its AC, Cruise Control, and great engine. He sounded like a man in love. I think that was why he corrected me when I told him and Bill I’d been to a, “garage sale.” Almost to himself he said, “yard sale,” “flea market.” For a moment he must have hoped there might be something for his beloved car there. I must admit, I haven’t kept up well with the nomenclature, either. Probably everyone is calling them yard sales nowadays. After the two extra trips home, one to get my money and one to take my goodies, I decided to walk the trail after all. I was glad I did. What a gorgeous day!

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Another reason I was glad was because I got to see another sight I saw and admired so much yesterday. A teacher in our school here has begun to take school children for bike rides on the trail – all properly helmeted, of course. Yesterday there were eighteen third graders zooming around me. There were fewer today and they were moving a bit more slowly. In fact, after the first one, they all needed to be waved at. It was easy. I raised my hand like an English princess and kept it moving until all had passed. “You’re making a lot of kids happy,” I shouted to the tail-end teacher. She grinned and waved back. Ah fall. Fall in paradise. It couldn’t be better.

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The lines have fallen to me in pleasant places; Indeed, my heritage is beautiful to me. Psalm 16:6

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