The Joy of The Morning Beach

Very early this morning, hoping to erase the memories of my soul mate; the one person who truly appreciated and enjoyed the beach as much as I do, I walked to the beach.  What I found was a cherished moment to help me forget, as the beach inspired  my soul and lifted my spirits.  When you truly believe that weeping through the night will be followed by joy in the morning, walk the beach early enough to see the glory that I saw this morning.

The sun! Oh my, what a sun! It was as if God woke the sun earlier than usual today, and then taking his hand, he gently and slowly slid the clouds aside so that the sun could throw a splatter of light over the ocean water along the beach.  My breath slowed and then stopped, as I waited for the light to find its way to the pulverized rocks lining the edge of the water.  All of the shades found in the colored rock and shells making up the soft sand, were highlighted with extreme detail.  Dancing light was skipping along the sand finding ways to bring out sparkles, as though they were hidden, precious jewels.

Suddenly realizing that I wanted to be a part of the moment, I could no longer sit and watch this magnificent light show.  My feet hurried to the wet sand, so that my toes could dig deep into the mush.  I began walking slowly, and as I walked the clouds thinned, and the bright sun drenched sky opened the beach for business.  The day had begun.  I knew that it was time for me to go, but I promised myself that I would return soon to see another glorious morning, as I hoped that my weeping would dissipate each time I remembered the joy of that morning on the beach.

FAITH II

FAITH II

Climb the highest mountain you can find, and there is probably snow on the top.  Ease your way down and stop to look at the melted snow that has become a beautiful waterfall.  Follow the water down the mountain and you will come upon the pool at the bottom of the waterfall.  The pool can either be shallow or deep.  Continuing downward you will see a rush of water falling over jagged rocks and dumping into a wide river.  The river continues downward yet it doesn’t seem to be going down until you reach a meadow and the river is narrow and moving very slowly.  The water doesn’t stop here because there are creeks and ditches to fill before you arrive at a large lake. This is where the water finds a place to reside.

This is how faith can work and the journey will seem endless yet you know that you know that you cannot stop trusting God.  May I share a story of faith in my life?

My Mother was involved in an automobile accident and her back was injured.  It seemed like forever but the physician finally performed surgery to correct the problem. One afternoon my brother and I were with her in her hospital room.  After surgery her back was not healing and we were anxious to see the surgeon and understand why.  To our surprise the physician who visited was not the back surgeon but a specialist who was searching for answers to the failure of the internal incisions to heal.  He explained that she was in later stages of Hep C and this news crushed our hearts. The Oncologists searched every available avenue to understand.  Mother had contracted hepatitis when she was a younger woman supposedly through blood transfusions.  There would be no recourse or healing and she was not a candidate for a liver transplant.  

Our faith in God was our recourse.  We prayed, and we struggled with understanding why God was not healing her.  Her health deteriated to the point that her Primary physician decided to move her to a swing bed unit across from the hospital, and after the move the years crept along.

One afternoon at my home in Kentucky I stood looking out the back door while tears coursed down my face and I verbalized my agonizing prayer to God.

“God why, “ I cried, “why can’t you just take her home.  She is tired and the family is tired and God, hasn’t she suffered enough?”

His voice to my heart was kind, yet strong, as he told me, “That is not your decision.”

Several days later as I dressed to attend a prayer conference being held at the Catholic sister’s retirement village, I sat down on the side of my bed and I whined to God.

“God I cannot go to this today.  I think my faith is worn out so I cannot do this.”

I closed my eyes and wept.  The room became soundless and still and God showed me in my mind a picture of my Mother in a field of wild flowers.  She was wearing a big hat and she was dancing among those flowers.  Oh, she was so happy.

With a peaceful heart I stood, wiped my face and went to the prayer conference to have my faith stretched a little more.  I walked the beautiful grounds of the village and thanked God for his wisdom.

Mother did go home and the day she left us I was holding her when the nurse came into the room and gave her an injection.  A very young nurse placed her arm around my waist as I stood and I looked at her and said, “Her spirit has left us.”  She replied with a smile, “Yes it has.”  I went to my brother’s house and almost as soon as I lay down on the bed my sister called to tell us that Mother’s heart had ceased.  I smiled because I knew that God was in charge of all of it.

We cannot ever give up on our faith and we can never stop trusting God.  He knows when, where, how and why.  Just as the snow from the mountain top, melts, finds a way down the mountain through many different avenues, so does our faith find a way to completion.  Be still and know that He is God and He has given us enough faith to complete the journey.  I praise only you, God.

Good morning friends and family.  There have been questions rolling around concerning “Faith”.  We all have faith in something or someone.  If your existence is depending on another person then your faith is in that person.  If your existence is depending on a religion then your faith is in that religion.  If your existence is depending on a church then your faith is in that church.  If your existence is depending on yourself then you only have faith in yourself.  May I share a story, a true story, of excerpts of one person’s journey of faith?

I was in about 3^rd or 4^th grade at Terry Consolidated School.  My father was a sharecropper and my Mother had recently begun working in a pants factory or shirt factory (I cannot remember which) in Crystal Springs.  The winters were cold and icy, snow, and wind.  Ugggh!  I remember well being so cold.  I slept with siblings in a big bed in front of the main fireplace and Mother warmed bricks and Daddy placed them at the foot of that bed to keep us warm.  We could not move because the quilts were piled high and they were heavy.  Mother and Daddy slept in the room next to us.  There was not heat in that room and I vividly remember Mother’s flannel gown and Daddy sleeping in his long johns. At night he would kneel beside that old bed and pray aloud.  I heard him ask God to prosper us and meet specific needs that we had and as a child this was a really big deal for me.  I watched as God answered those prayers.  There was no internet and no way of spreading that need in a large prayer circle.  It was just a sharecropper in the middle of winter with seven children to feed and rent to pay.  God answered those prayers over and over and over again.

Advance forward to an older woman who had the rug I stood on literally jerked out from under me without any warning. The depth of heart pain and hurt that followed that is impossible for me to describe.  I was homeless and during the course of being rescued, loved, and once again housed I hit a major low point.  My faith was totally dependent on God or I would have just ended my miserable life.  Only satan can bring a person to that low depth and only Faith In God, our creator and our Savior, and our ever present help in times of need, can sustain a person in that low depth.

I have no idea what you need to sustain the life style that God placed you in, nor do you know what I need.  God does and He, and He alone, will find the way or ways of providing these needs when my faith is in Him alone.  Faith?????

During these days of pain and despair God brought a group of strong, faith in God prayer warriors into my life.  He is bringing my family back to him one person at a time at this point.  How absolutely amazing is that kind of FAITH!!!!!!!!!

Now. With all of this said, I praise Him and Him alone and sometimes I will tell you another one or two faith stories.  My life has been amazing and if I tried to understand it I would be forever baffled.  God knows and my faith is in Him.

It is not about me and it is not about you.  It is about having faith that God will redeem people from sin and provide all of the prosperity they need to spread his love and care.

I can still see in my minds camera, my Mother standing in the kitchen with a paring knife in one hand and a potato in the other and looking me in the eye as she says, “Young lady, if you keep your own doorstep swept clean, you will not have time to worry about your neighbor’s doorstep.”

Regardless of your situation, ALWAYS KEEP YOUR FAITH IN OUR FATHER GOD, for He never sleeps and He always listens for as long as you want to talk to Him.

ANSWERED

“The child has not shed a tear!”

“I realize that Sis, but he is probably cried out from years of pain.”

“So you think he helped her die?”

“Okay Sister, let’s go outside and have a glass of Vino.”

Peggy followed her brother, Phil, down the porch steps and across the back yard to the gazebo.  She balanced a pair of wine glasses, cutting board, cheese and bread in her hands while Phil carefully carried a bottle of Merlot under his left arm with a knife in his left hand and a corkscrew between his right thumb and ring finger.  He shifted the corkscrew to his left hand and using his pocket handkerchief dusted the pollen from the table and two chairs. Peggy placed the light fare on the marble table top and soon they were seated with filled glasses.

“My dear, sister, Peggy how can you believe a grieving twelve-year old child would assist his Mother’s death?”

“I don’t know really, but Phil, he doesn’t seem to be grieving.  He isn’t even unhappy.”

“Remembering his life I think he isn’t sure if he was a science experiment from a test tube or an accident of human lust.”

“Phil that is ridiculous!  They came from a Christian family even though they did not seem to be Christian!”

“Look Sis, I coached his soccer team and he bragged that they did not attend any church, nor did his Mother believe in God.  He and I talked about this many times.  That still doesn’t mean he assisted his Mother’s death.  Perhaps he is relieved that it’s over.  She has been ill for several years.”

“If they did not believe in God that could mean life was not valuable to them. Think about that Phil.”

Phil picked up his cell phone and then laid it back on the table.  “He will be here soon.”

They ceased conversation and sat quietly waiting for Claude Goodal to join them.

“Hey Coach,” the youngster said as he closed the gate behind him. He walked to the porch and dropped a ragged duffle bag on the porch.

“Hey Claude, how’re you holding up?”

Peggy stood and hugged the young boy, picked up her glass, looked at Phil until their eyes locked, then she dropped her gaze, turned and returned to the house.

Claude sat down and accepted the cheese on a slice of bread but before he could lift it to his lips, they trembled, and his quivering lips, with flowing tears spoke the truth Phil had prayed for daily.

They stood, walked to the back porch where Phil had soccer balls stored.  They each chose a ball and Peggy stood watching from the dining room window as they dribbled the soccer balls up the street toward the park.

It was Tuesday afternoon and dusk began to settle around them as they took turns shooting goals at the old, worn goal and just as worn, sagging net.

“It will be dark soon and no lights,” Coach remarked.

They each tucked a soccer ball under an arm and turned to walk back to Coach Phil’s house.

“Coach I know you believe in God and heaven so do you think my Mom is in heaven,” Claude asked?

Coach Phil placed his empty arm around Claude’s shoulder and led him to the stone bench at the edge of the park.  After sitting Coach searched Claude’s eyes and felt an indescribable heartache.

“God,” Coach began. “Is always with us and he is always using ways to show his love to us.  It is his desire that we all should be saved and when our body dies, our spiritual-self returns to him.  Because he doesn’t always show his ways to others when he is wooing us, unless we tell them they cannot know, since they did not see our salvation during that moment we gave our life to him.  If we are very ill we may not talk of it.   You and I have talked about the three facts of life.  Do you remember Claude?”

Claude shook his head up and down and stared at his shoes, while gripping the soccer ball so tightly his knuckles were white.

“First we are asked by God to believe that God created us and he gives us a measure of faith to help us believe.  Secondly we are asked to believe that we are his children and he is our father and the measure of faith stretches to believe this.  Thirdly, we are asked to believe that our body will die at the appointed time God chooses and that measure of faith stretches yet again. Claude he further explained and showed us how much he loves us by sending his one and only begotten son to earth in an earthly body with all of the pain, joy and judgements that we humans experience.  This same son became our sacrifice for sin when he died a natural, human death on the cross.  The great joy is that he arose as a spiritual man showing us God’s power to resurrect the spirit after the body dies.  We are three persons really, all in one package because he also gave us a mind of our own decision making.  This is our promise from God.  We are so loved by him that we are allowed the choice of believing which is a true gift since his love asked only that we believe that he is God. 

God shared time with your Mom before her body died of an earthly disease, cancer.  Claude I believe that your Mom understood because her Mom and your grandfather taught her about God before the other people told her that God was not real.  See, he promised that our children would believe and know this truth even when they were older.  So, you see Claude, she was given a long enough time for God to commune, or talk to her spirit.  Yes I believe she is in Heaven.”

“Thanks Coach.  Can we go to my house now?  I just need to go to my house.”

“Of course we can.”

“Coach thanks for coming to my house this morning.”

“You are very welcome Claude.  Do you need your duffle bag from the porch?”

“Yes sir.” 

The Wednesday morning was clear and cool as a spring morning usually is.  Peggy parked in the front of the funeral home and got out of the car.  Claude got out and walked around to meet her, and then he looked at her and asked, “May I go in by myself?”

 Peggy nodded yes and smiled since she knew Coach Phil was already there.

The funeral director, James Snowden, shook the hand of the lone survivor of Miss Jane Goodal, a twelve-year-old, sandy-colored hair, boy, lovingly named Claude after his grandfather. He had his grandfather’s ruddy complexion and build of body, standing 5’6” even at this early age.  His mother, Miss Goodal had succumbed to colon cancer and her thin, lifeless body was delivered to the funeral home by ambulance on Tuesday morning after seven.

Mr. Snowden first learned of the death Tuesday morning at approximately eight.  He sighed, said a prayer for her son and called Coach Phil on his cell phone.  There was not an answer so he left a message.  Coach Phil was already at the Goodal house.

Coach Phil arrived earlier this Wednesday morning to finalize the funeral and financial arrangements. He had visited with the Director of the Department of Child Services earlier and signed all necessary paperwork to serve as a foster parent to Claude Goodal.

Mr. Snowden placed a hand on Coach Phil’s shoulder.  “He is in parlor B Coach.”

“Thanks James,” he muttered, “Just finished.”  He stood and went to parlor B to be with Claude.

The heavy curtain began to open and the two stood. Coach put his arm around Claude and led him to the casket to see his Mother’s last remains of her earthly body.  The boy leaned into his mentor, friend, and coach and cried very quietly.

At ten that morning people from school and community began to come into Parlor B to shake the hands of Claude and his friend, Coach Phil.  Claude remained somber, yet smiled each time someone approached him. The service was kind, generously encouraging and the graveside was a continuance of the same.  The last act of courage the young boy performed was when he placed a red rose together with a white rose on his Mom’s casket and whispered, “God take care of her please and tell her I will see her again one day.  I believe God.”

Coach Phil wept with Claude after everyone had left the cemetery except the workers, who respectfully waited at a distance.  He thanked God for teaching and showing Claude His Amazing Love.  He also thanked God for bringing him the son he could never father himself.

 

 

Virginia's Baby

Good morning to all.  for the one's who followed Virginia's Baby, thank you.  I have pulled it from this blog and I am rewriting much of this novel to incorporate the beginning, middle and the end in a fluid pattern for more enjoyable reading.  My apologies.  I wrote the ending and tried to sell this as a short story only to be told, in a kind constructive way, that I should write this as a novel.  That was several years ago and I know some of you are weary of waiting for me to do just that.  Writing a novel from the heart is not the easiest of tasks.  Writing any novel is not an easy task and I am not a cookie cutter writer.  I am a creative story writer.  I love stories.  Please be patient as I complete this beautiful story of five generations of women who lived, laughed, danced, played, and suffered through life.  The novel is forthcoming.  I appreciate all of you!

Good morning family and friends.

This morning is a typical hot, July morning in Florida, yet it is beautiful!  This is the day the Lord has made and I will rejoice and be glad in it.
Recently a childhood friend remarked to me that I was writing my novel out of my own pain.  Truth be told, she was not far from correct.  We all live our fears, failures, regrets, and generational curses in our minds until we take them to our Father God and allow Jesus Christ to heal our wounds and abolish our fears.
There are two signs hanging on my walls.  Both where I can read them daily.  One reads, "Thank you Jesus.  This is your project.  I am just your writer."  Ina
The other reads, "I only write when I am inspired.  Every day I make sure to inspire myself."
Writer's often drink, take drugs, or live their pain.  I choose to take mine to him and allow healing with fresh revelations of my fears on a daily basis.
Life is not a thing!  Life is a journey and what we accomplish is only measured by God in our accomplishments with people.
God's conviction is the strongest, when we are on the cusp of major life decisions.  Waiting for prayers to be answered is never about us but about all of the people involved in the prayer's answer.
I realize that some of this novel, "Virginia's Baby", is difficult reading for some Christians, however the truths of life are not all pretty and painless.
My journey is one of truth and acceptance of God, and the healing of Jesus Christ.  That may seem so easy and it can be if we are happy to sit in church and allow someone else to do our Bible reading and praying and suffering is always put behind us and on and on and on.  I desire and want to travel the road He has placed me on with all of the glory being his because that is where my joy is.  That is where I can touch and love and understand and care about others.  I am not the only person dealing with pain, fear, acceptance, or even generational curses.  I can understand and be there to help someone else since accomplishments are only those involving people.
Those who read this novel are in for a great blessing as the story continues to unfold!  God bless each of you today and every day of your journey.

Good morning.

Good post Easter celebration day.  God has once again, as he so faithfully does, reached down inside of me to stir my spirit.  He forgives me, encourages me and teaches me day by day.  If I wanted to find the church God has for me, personally, not just because my family is there, but for me, how would I reach out and do this.  Praying must have feet.  Finding comes from seeking.  Where next Lord?  If I had a friend that I knew and loved dearly who did not know the greatness of God’s salvation then what church would I trust to give this friend to?  Think about it.  A new Christian, like a new baby, should be loved, protected, and they should see the light.  When I have a plant that grows in a bent position how do I straighten the plant?  I turn the side with no growth to the sun.  Which church has the spirit to turn a new Christian to the Son?  Not religion, not rules, no “this is how we do things as Christians”, and definitely not judging or watching everything they do so they can be corrected, but which church will pray without ceasing, love without question, and live with the spirit of the Son so evident that people are drawn to them? Am I that kind of Christian?  That is the depth of God’s gift to me this Easter celebration.

Have A Happy, Rushless Day

Good afternoon family and friends.  Today I found myself in a restful opportunity and as usual, I picked up my laptop to write.  I was on the island today and the beach was swarming with busy people and I mean busy.  It seems to me that folks have to plan their down time and recreation moments and spontaneity has gone out of the window.  How refreshing to hear someone say, “I think I will go and do this or that today.”  Life is so busy and so intense that people are attracted to simple, everyday stories with simple, everyday language to remind them that they have the right to be happy and relax and enjoy the moments. 

Perhaps we will plan a time in each day to learn this.  Maybe that is what it will take to un-busy ourselves enough to laugh and play.  I do understand the pressure that companies, family and even friends can place on our lives. It seems that the days are completely filled with no room to even finish the day; however, ten minutes to practice happy thoughts or one hour to take a stroll, not an exercise jog, but a relaxing time with a friend, spouse, a child, or a parent can change your life.  You will be happier and kinder to yourself.  I like to think of down time as rushless.  Yep, that’s it.  Rushless!

I know, I should be working on writing Milton and Virginia’s story but should takes all of the fun out of it.  A very wise gentleman reminded me over and over that should is not the reason to do anything.  I want to write this and I will, but not at this “rushless” moment in time.  Thank you all for spending time on my blog.

Let's take a moment.......

May I re-introduce myself and share the  purpose of this book.

Ina Grace-Housley lives near her family in the beautiful paradise of Florida, USA.  She has devoted her writing career to helping other people enjoy their life, encourage other people to never give up on themselves, and many similar reasons.  She has two children with two adult children she claims for her own and seven grandchildren who consume the happiest spaces of her heart. 

Her first novel is a love story with great purpose and is dedicated to all of the people of this world who do not know who their biological parents are and all of the other people who feel that nagging loss without knowing why because they are not who others have wanted them to believe they are.  One moment in time and one decision made during that moment can create a lifetime of roads not taken and decisions never made with consequences that roll like a ball of twine across several decades before they are forever forgotten and washed away with time.

Ina was blessed to be reared with her natural parents and a host of siblings; however the path to this life was not easy and her heart has been greatly enlarged to reach out to those who will be touched by this beautiful work of fiction based on many stories of many lives.

To Weary Travelers and Couregeous Hearts

Good morning everyone.  God has awarded me a quiet and peaceful moment today and, as is usual, I turned to my thoughts.  He and He alone, knows, when we need our moments of reflection and our body needs quiet times as well.  Many of the thoughts that never leave us are weeds and they want desperately to invade these moments so I have spent a lifetime trying to “weed” that little garden. I would love for everyone in the world who needs an oasis today to have one and please use it to pour water over a crusty heart or broken soul.  We spend too much time racing to pour a drop of water into an ocean only to see it go out with the tide and behind, beside or even in front of us is a moment in time that may never come our way again.

I am full circle now with my children, well almost anyway.  They are not grandparents but they are struggling with adult children and empty nests and all that comes with that.  It is not an easy road but borrow those glimpses, you know the ones; the moments in time that will make you laugh and expand your heart again today.  My grandchildren are a delightful group of artists!  It shows up in “grande’ ways” I can assure you.  To watch an adult grandchild reach out to another person unselfishly and put that person first with a pure, loving heart is a testament to a wonderful parent.  To hear a grandchild play music to the One who bestowed the heart of desire to them, is a joy not describable.  Oh they truly all march to their own music and sometimes you, as parents, will not understand that. Leading is so much harder than telling.  Did you ever say to yourself, “how many times have I told him/her that?”  Well, please do not stress over that nonsense because praying for that child allows us to know that at the precise time, and with someone else, they will learn it!  I always, always, have asked God to give my children the right people in their lives and the exact right time and God never sleeps!  You know the old cliches’ including the one, “teach a child to fish and he will never be hungry.”  Trust me you have dedicated all of this time teaching so many things good mostly, but also the bad or hurtful.  That in itself is a learning curve even if you wish it did not exist. 

It isn’t always what you do, but how you do that turns the tide.  I know a water rush may be a challenge to controlling individuals looking for adventure but that high tide can drown a parent in torment if one allows it to.  I know you hear me quote the KJV on this verse but it is Fitting.  “A word fitly spoken is like apples of gold in pitchers of silver.” Plant that painting in your mind’s eye and think about it.

“Speaking of painting.”  Think about this.  When your children were born God presented you with a white art board.  You and I were far too young and inexperienced to grasp that thought, at that time!  But think about it for a bit.  How many times you must have painted outside the lines, this is not a  paint by number you know, and how many times did you just pour paint off the board completely and turn around and wonder why the child never got that?  Now they are striking out on their own and you want to know how on earth they will ever do it!!!!!!!!!  Then you look inside and remember all of the dumb times and how many times you messed up with them.  Hey they got the big picture.  They may seem as if they are tuned out but their storage tank is probably running on overload right now while you are having a cram session!  Don’t worry they will be in touch over and over and over again!  Just not usually when you know your heart and mind need to hear from them. “Like right this minute so I can continue on with my day.”

Now God has generously given you a new white, art board.  Take the other one and frame it for later when they are parents and need a hug.  There is a big difference in the two boards anyway because you are no longer the 1^st chair!!!  You get to wait for them to paint on this board so you will see and know.  Controlling people with struggle with this one so take a moment and breathe.  Give them room to grow off your old board with lots of love and prayer.  They have the brush now, so open your grateful heart and breathe, knowing with complete certainty that God never sleeps, and He loves them more than you ever could and with good reason.  He knows where they are really going!  Oh, I remembered the two things I have prayed generously yet selfishly for my children all of the years they have been in my care.

1. Wisdom

2. A Couregeous Heart 

With wisdom from God they will flourish and with the courageous heart they will have the courage to act on the wisdom.  King  Solomon did not build his house.  God’s wisdom built that entire kingdom for him but God, who is wise enough to allow us to do all of these things on this earth while he oversees, gave Solomon the opportunity to act on the gifts that He, God, gave to him.  Now my weary travelers, that is opportunity"  To those bold, young courageous hearts, "march on in this same wisdom."

                                                                                                                                      

Never, Never, Never Give Up!

              

Today I wish I were in Natchez, Mississippi celebrating with flags and flowers, for you see the last time I was there was January 2007 when we buried the physical remains of a young brother who taught his older sister, me, so much.  He was a US Marine and he was one of those special people who knew how to win and he knew how to lose.

Many people have asked me about the gold bar that sat on the counter in front of my desk, and now sits on my home desk, inscribed, “Never, Never, Never, Give Up.”  I would like to share the story with you. On December 15, 2006 I closed my salon and left for Birmingham, Alabama because I knew the end was near for David and he had been admitted to the Veterans Hospital in Birmingham.

My brother David was many things and lived a life that few people understood, including me.  During his last few years with us I had the privilege of spending a lot of my time with him and he taught me how to love people unconditionally.  He never talked about it but he did it day in and day out and I watched him.  When they were difficult or just down-right rude and mean to him, he never complained and he would say things like, “Well, we don’t know what’s going on in their life, so we shouldn’t pretend we do, and we never have the right to judge them.”  Those were the things my Mother and Daddy used to say to us, but hearing it from a man, who put it into action in the biggest way by volunteering to go to Viet Nam, well to me, it was bigger than the life we grew up in.  David was a US Marine, a bonofide cowboy, and country music guitar picker and singer.  He saw things that most of us haven’t even heard about and somehow he allowed those things to mold around the things he had been taught and in the end he was still strong.  I know, because I was sitting beside his bed in the Veterans hospital when he said, “Well it’s over sister,” and I replied, “I’m a little jealous that you’ll get to see Mama and Daddy before I do”.  That was the last real conversation we ever had but his life still speaks volumes to me every day.

The year before he died he decided to remodel his wife’s house and make sure she would be okay.  Together they did, and I spent many days visiting him under the carport watching him sanding doors, and building windows and cabinets.  He couldn’t breathe by that time but he never wore an oxygen pack on his person, because he was a US Marine and a “bonafide” cowboy.  Once I asked him, “David, Jean would understand if you don’t get this done, so why don’t you rest?”  He shook his head and he looked me in the eye and he said, “Never, Never, Never Give Up!”

There are always people in our lives that we have to smile and walk away from, never understanding them, but when we have something to do that is bigger than anything we could ever do all by ourselves, we learn to Never, Never, Never, Give Up.  We also learn to depend on one another to get it done.  We are facing people every day who are looking for reasons to hope and we can’t give them the jobs they need, but those who are hired to assist them can give them a smile and an understanding heart, and together we can make more and more out of what is in our hands.  We can sand a few more doors, build a few windows to let the sunshine in, and somehow build cabinets to hide the JUNK.  You know the JUNK, the harsh words, the impatient answers, and the judgmental attitudes.  These are the things I am working on myself, failing miserably from time to time, and I see some of you struggle to get through it without crying and giving up. Please do not become complacent or disinterested.  We must Never, Never, Never Give Up as long as there is hope then there is a way to make a difference.  You are sitting on that side of the desk and many wish they were, and it would not matter to them where the desk was.  Sometimes “following the book” means ignoring the needs of the person asking for assistance.  I know this because I tried to follow a rule book and all of the rules put in place end up like a crazy quilt instead of the right solution, and crazy quilts may keep you warm but there is never thought put into the placement because you just fit somebody where you think they will maybe fit.

Today I celebrate the Veterans, the men and women who saw something bigger than they could accomplish all by themselves, and they teamed up to ease the suffering, demand freedom for those who were being oppressed and abused, and they Never, Never, Never Gave Up.  Walking away is hard to do when you cannot see how you can win the battle, and sometimes  it is easy to confuse walking away with quitting, but if you cannot win, you can open the door for one of your team mates to step up and help you get it done.  This will require that they be the kind of teammate that is willing to step up and help when they are needed.  Thank you for remembering those who actually put their life on the battle line to prove that.  The key was usually, “Never, Never, Never Give Up!”

Thank you David, thank you.. to all of you who have returned to us, and thank you families for making the ultimate sacrifices by giving up your son, daughter, wife, husband, brother, sister, mother or father.

May God give all of us a COURAGEOUS HEART to give the very best and do the very best we can to make other’s lives better when the opportunity is presented to us or we see the need.

DAVID ARTHUR GRACE, Veteran of the UNITED STATES MARINE CORP

“SUPPORT YOUR LOCAL VETERANS ORGANIZATIONS AND OPEN YOUR HEARTS TO OUR VETERANS WHO ARE RETURNING HOME TO US…. AND SERVE FOR US.”

Love is Not a Natural Occurence

Good morning everyone.  Today is absolutely beautiful and the morning is so perfect one would want to absorb it.  Absorb is an old fashioned word that many choose not to use in the literary world of writing adverbs.  When I think of absorb, I remember once when I was in love I used to think it would be wonderful to absorb the man.  Good thing I didn’t.  It would have changed who I am. Hmmm….makes me wonder about a lot of things pertaining to love.  MY BELIEF:

“Love is not a natural occurrence”

I believe that we are emotionally attracted to others.  When I held my son for the first time or when they handed me my daughter.  Wow.  I loved them both so much.  Emotion city magnified.  Right?  Now think about this.  If I had given them away and walked away without ever looking back would that love have been as overwhelming as it was that first time I held them in my arms?  I do not think so.  I do believe the heart hungers for the love we lose or walk away from but the extreme emotions just are not there.  We choose to love and allow that love into our life.  Regardless of the situation or the person in our life, we have a choice.  We either love them or we do not.

My childhood was huge to me because I was taught to love.  My parents loved me so much they drove me crazy once I decided I wanted to have my own way about something.  My parents had no choice in their minds, but to prove their love yet again, by saying no. No, no, no, and I forgot all of the yeses!  We must remember to teach our children to love.  If we do not, then they will not have a pattern to fall in love and teach their children to love. 

If we were just programmed to love then Christ would not have been so adamant about his teachings.  I call it the New Testament, AD, Commandment.  “Love one another as I have loved you.”  This does not mean give everyone everything they think they should have.  This does not mean provide more than you can afford to, to prove your love.  “Love Hurts”.  That was a song title and if you recall it also states, “Love mars and scars.”  My Dad was known for his little quip, “You’ll get over it.” When I hear myself or one of my siblings make this remark I smile because it is true.  If the love you lost or chose not to invest yourself in hurts then remember that you will get over it.  We only carry with us the true loves that we gave our all to and have lost by one means or another because we gave all and knew it even just short of dying for them.

When a woman makes the statement, “You did not carry that child so you do not understand my decision”.  She has the right to say this to you.  Women invest all of themselves into the health and caring of their child and when the child is born that does not change.  This child becomes a visible person outside of the womb that requires the Mother to continually invest in every phase of his/her life.  I hear my children tell one another, concerning my grandchildren, “I choose the battles.  I cannot dictate a life to them.”  That would make parents controlling and give no live to the young ones for exploration and choosing the right things for themselves.  They must fail from time to time or they may never learn the importance of being successful.  When children are dictated every move then any failure becomes gigantic in their minds.  On the other hand, when a parent knows what is best and the child is not adhering to the best causing harm, danger to others or to themselves, then a parent has a battle to enter in and not give in.  New idea, Mama Up!  Daddy Up, sometimes Grandma or Grandpa Up, Teacher Up, just the same as a Cowboy Up!  This takes a lot of love investing.  For some there may be a lot of self-learning before the Step Up.  Facts change a situation in a moment so we all have to continually learn and trust to see it happen.  It takes a village to raise a child, hmmm… love and learning must begin with the tree the little apples fell from, and the village contributes.

We were taught to love everyone but we were not held accountable for loving them, when people were abusive or mistrustful.  I decided from all I had been taught, that I could easily have loved the abuser or mistrustful person if they had been the person they were created to be.  I could have watched over, nurtured and invested my emotions and affection on them.  People do get lost and we have large and caring hearts for them but we cannot allow ourselves to be abused or mistreated.  The person can overcome their choices of inflicting pain on others.  That beginning is itself their first choice.

So, Love is Not a Natural Occurrence.  I choose to save the most precious ability I poses for those whom I treasure and daily invest my time, attention, and affection in.  The ability to love! When we love wholeheartedly with everything we have, we must remember to love ourselves.  If we cannot do this we have to remember that love is not a natural occurrence and today we invest in us.  I know first-hand how hard this is because I forgot to love myself for many years.  Be happy every day and have fun!

God's Hugs

Good morning all.  A day like today would be a good reason to change the reason we call home the Treasure Coast.  The weather is our treasure today and the ocean is bringing a soft, yet steady wind across the beaches.  It is so beautiful!  Today my blog time will be devoted to the most precious part of a parent’s heart; children. I cannot speak for all of you so I can only example my experiences.

The Viet Nam War (crisis) deprived my son and daughter of their father before they even had time to know him.  A sweet home-town Christian boy left us and returned a man that no one understood.  All of the wisdom in the world could never prepare families for these tumultuous times.  Well it wasn’t long before he chose his own path to walk and it did not include his family, so life began again the way it first began; just the three of us.  Some of you can relate to this and sadly, too many of you.  We were scrutinized, criticized and passed over by an older generation who simply wanted everything to remain the same.  How could it?  There have been generations of single moms rearing their children alone, yet this time we were treated like we were diseased.  Yep.  A lot of forgiveness has come down the pike and a lot of that same, torture of being different came with it.

Now, let’s stop and think about this.  The children grew up without the best of both worlds and found their way through life the same way we did, but in a different age of technology.  Are you still with me?  Many parents of the sixties and seventies have managed to retain the devout Christian beliefs without interference in a world created for them.  Today parents and their children are being forced to deal with the world our ancestors left behind. 

I think about this a lot because our ancestors, the puritans, were building a world free of all of the things that were causing chaos in other parts of the world.  As time rolled along the sixties generation ushered in the unbelievable world of technology, the one that seemed to take this country by surprise.  Not our governments or military, but to us it was wowing.  I remember when we had to decide to go back to school and learn this new operation of offices or get left behind...  Since then this generation has played the extreme highway game of keeping up with the technical industry.  I remember selling a rather gaudy diamond bracelet to purchase a single strand of pearls and two computers!  How small the world suddenly became and war was on television twenty-four hours per day in vivid color.

Let me not go too far off my course and forget the crux of this visitation.  The parents now have young pre-teens, teens, and young adults to keep up with.  The basic rules of life are changing and that is my great concern with our present generation.  How do parents keep the basics yet live with all of the changes?  Grandparents help, church helps some, extended families reach out more often, the neighborhoods they live in pay closer attention and perhaps the most important is continual encouragement within those basic boundaries.  Choices do create consequences. They always have and always will.  Choose wisely is far more, than just a bumper sticker.  When our ability to grow older and understand the present generation, occurs, if it ever occurs for some of us, then we will relax.  We can throw away the stress pills, laugh louder, smile more often, and enjoy the wonderful people in our lives.  Judgement of others is not a new concept!  From the puritans to the pulpits of today, judgements seem to be steady and continuing. 

Please let us not confuse judgements of living in our world with judgements of faith.  We judge the distance we in a car travel at a particular speed and give the person in the car in front of us plenty of room to make judgements also.  Our faith, the Christian faith that is, will always suffer scrutiny yet we have to remain stable in our faith and not judge others for their disagreement.  Now we come to the purpose of this visit today.

We are not the Holy Spirit and we are not capable of controlling other people or circumstances that are not ours to have.  We can push open every door that we think will work for us but until God’s perfection is applied in the pressure of the push it will not come to fruition. 

Now, I take a deep breath, have a sip of coffee, and relax.  God is in control.  Wow!!!! I keep losing sight of that fact.  My children and grandchildren are my greatest reminders.  When those days of Viet Nam separated our family, I gave up.  I gave my children and everything I had to God.  I told him that I could not fix it, deal with it or even imagine in my mind a way to work all of our problems out.  He took them and gave me a hug.  Well you may find this amusing but it is not when the night is long and you have no idea what is going on with a child or grandchild, so you cannot sleep for mentally trying to fix it.  That is right.  As Christians and as parents we think we can fix it!!!!  All of it!!!  That is when a trip to the carpet with open arms, and face down, I allow God to remind me that he has not given me control and he never will.  That is freedom to know that he is in charge.  I can relax and sleep and work and dream and be happy.  How about you?  Do you need a hug? Sit up from lying on the carpet and wrap your arms around yourself while God’s spirit encloses you in his arms.  That my friend; is a God hug.

Now let’s ask God and our children and grandchildren to forgive us for thinking we had control of God’s decisions.  We can be there and we can love with all of our hearts but we cannot make all of those decisions.  We have to keep trusting them to back away if the door is not opening with God’s force of perfection, and embrace the beautifulness of watching God take us to joyous reunions that we could never provide ourselves; on the carpet.

My friend sent me an email message about Mom’s.  Thank you.  We are truly blessed.  Will life be easy?  No.  Will decisions be difficult? Yes.  Are we in it alone? Never!  Are our children alone? Never!  We can change the consequences of our present actions by choosing well.  We can practice patience, and still hold onto the basics while we live in a world of continual change.

My motto:

·         Remember where you came from.  God created you.

·         Remember who you are.  God’s child with all of his benefits, and never ending hugs.

·         Remember where you are going.  Back to God!

Now everything else is the stuff that life gives us and we give to life.  Always remember to get your God hug!  Don’t have to always ask a friend, since God is the perfect parent.

Daddy Sure Could Pick a Good Dog

Good dogs always lived at our house because Daddy knew how to pick a good dog.  Boy I really thought Daddy could do anything and I expected all Daddys to be that smart, but one day I saw a man lose a dog to a stranger and the dog just ignored his owner.

I asked Daddy, “Why on earth would anyone let their dog go off  like that with a stranger?”

“Well, Ludy,” he said, “Some owner’s don’t treat their dogs too good, but I know that dog was treated real good.  That dog is any man’s dog that’ll hunt him.  All dogs are not good, Sugar.”

Now is probably a good time to go backwards and tell you a little about me and my family and our good dogs.  See, we were poor country people and my earliest remembrance was after Mama and Daddy sold Grandmas’s farm and we moved to the city.  There were seven of us kids at that time and Mama had two more later on making out family nine kids and two parents.  Well Mama was like a kid and Daddy treated her like one.  She never had to whip me (today that would be known as spanking) but when she told Daddy I needed one he took care of business and we knew not to cross Mama.   So, where was I?  Oh yeah, nine of us kids living in the city was a recipe for problems; however this is a story of what I remember first hand as a child and believe you me, there have been many stores told to me that I don’t feel I should share since they aren’t mine.  When the ninth baby was born, he was a puny little thing and lived on mashed bananas but he had a head full of glorious blonde curls that would make any Scotsman proud.  By all that is right, Mama named him after the doctor who saved her and her baby.  Calvin Theo.  Those first years in the city were tough and we had no dog that I remember.  Daddy traveled putting up billboards on the side of the road and one of my finest remembrances was the one when I sat on the curb, every Friday in Meridian, Mississippi waiting for my Daddy to come home.  Thrilling was not the word for how I felt when that old red paneled truck came around the corner and he was finally home.

I was still young enough to be lugged on my older sisters’ hips but old enough not to need diapers because I could walk or run all over the place, and when I couldn’t keep up I was thrown upon a hip. The next remembrance I must share because it was a tale told about me and to me.  My sister, Becky with her bright red curly hair and big blue eyes could scare me almost to death and if she told me something, she would say, “And you better believe it too.”

 I certainly did for many, many years.

She told me, “You were on my hip and I was running around the corner of our brick house and you fell backwards and hit your head on those bricks.  Well I dropped you on the ground and took a screwdriver and bored a hole in your head to pour green stuff in your head, since I had knocked out your brains.  You are not smart because of that, so I will tell me what to do from now on. “

 And she did.

I remember two other things about that period of time in the brick house and one was Daddy’s ability to pick a good dog.  It was cold one night and we young ones were sitting on the floor in front of a heater when Daddy came home.  He opened his jacket and pulled out a tiny little German Shepherd pup that was shaking like crazy.  My brother, Calvin Theo had been born on December the 12^th and you remember he was a puny runt, so Daddy brought Calvin a puppy that the police department did not want, because the pup was a puny runt and would never fit in.  I was four-and-a-half years old and that made perfect sense to me.  I don’t remember who named him but my brother, Lavon adopted that little fellow and we called our dog Bullet.  Well Daddy knew how to pick a good dog because Bullet proved to be the best.

Daddy had a brother living over in Jackson, Mississippi and the brother wanted him to come there too, so off we went to another city not fit for country kids.  There is one thing about our family mixed with Scottish, Irish and Cherokee, and that is not a surprise considering Mississippi had 13 flags that flew over her before Old Glory reigned, so all of this mixture assured everyone that we knew how to have fun. Moving to the big city was ok with us if Daddy said so. Jackson was a tough town when you lived on Gallatin Street. One night we were all asleep when someone decided to steal the gasoline from Daddy’s car and Bullet was on guard that night.  When Daddy heard men screaming and that dog growling just before Ole Bullet came unglued, he took off out the door.  All of that commotion certainly woke us up and he came back in the house holding the fabric from the seat of somebody’s britches that Bullet didn’t care for. If my memory serves me right they did not get the gasoline but we moved to a different neighborhood. 

Bullet became our family hero and we depended on him, especially Mama and Daddy depended on him to watch over us, since kids weren’t allowed to hang out in the house and we spent most of our time outside.  I remember all of that sunshine and good times.  My sister, Mary, used to drag me down the sidewalk to go to a walk-in-theatre on Saturday.  Oh she didn’t have to make me go, but she was saddled with babysitting me and that little girl was always in a hurry.  Well my love for western movies was born in that theatre.  I especially loved Roy Rogers and Dale Evans and most of all, Trigger, but Mary wanted to watch Ester Williams swim so I didn’t always get my way about seeing horses, dogs and cows on the big screen.  Remember I was born in the country and that country was in my blood even though I lived three years in the city.  We had some hard times and I guess that same country ran in Daddy’s blood too because after my sixth birthday we moved to the cotton fields of North East Mississippi to a little community called Van Buren.

We arrived on a cold winter night but that is another story all together.  Bullet was about to get his first taste of country living at its purest.  It seems funny sometimes but he was always around when us four youngest ones were outside.  He stayed between us and danger always so I will share a few of these memorable moments in this story.

Our house was a typical sharecropper’s house with four large rooms, two on each side, a small room on the right for a kitchen, a huge middle hallway, a screened in back porch and a front porch that covered the width of the entire house.  Each room had a significant purpose with no wasted space.  These houses were known as shot-gun style houses.  You could stand on the front porch and shoot all the way through the back.  That was my take on the meaning anyway.  The yard around the house was swept clean of grass so there were no pests to contend with, except a few pesky house flies. I was six-and-a-half by then and Bullet and Calvin were four. There was so much for a four year old dog to discover and learn the hard way, and I can assure you that God watched over that nosy dog and us four kids.  I wore dresses and we all went barefoot, but people started calling us the four boys.  I hated being a girl because that meant I was weak and those boys were strong he-men.  It became second nature for Bullet to be with me when I rambled around the place making me think he was a super dog who took care of all of us at the same time.

Every morning Mama called from the back porch door, “Hey Bullet come and get it.”

He was never very far away and truth be told he was waiting for that yell every morning.