THE MOLTING RABBIT - Loved

Our pet rabbit "BunBun" runs in the yard freely since he got out a couple of years ago. He is so happy, I could never put in back in a cage again. He has hideouts, a large underground burrow and favorite spots for napping. He his literally "king of the yard" since it was replanted to suit him. No, not replanted, it's more like pare down! What is there now are plants and shrubs he does not eat and a few large pots too high for him to reach. Some have survived his repeated attacks, kept on growing back, and I guess he finally gave up. But when he gets upset for not getting enough attention or whatever annoys him, he'll chump something - just for spite- leaving the evidence on the ground. It always comes back just as big and he does it again. We go round and round with that. It's our pet rabbit...

All the kids love him. All the neighbors know him. It's funny to see him sit in the middle of the grass and all at once jump up or roll, or sit on his hind legs, or run to make friends with one of the kitties that visit his kingdom.

Well lately, he has been looking strange. He is molting. He's all patchy, he looks like he has cotton balls sticking to part of his back and there is clumps of fur coming off all over. Very unattractive bunny.

I was sitting for a bit in the shade watching the birds at the feeders. A few butterflies and bees were going from one nectar rich blossom to another with an occasional huge bumble bee buzzing around. I love bumble bees, they're just so neat. They always remind me of a fortress war plane. All a once BunBun came running around the corner and stopped in the middle of the path. He stood on his hind legs, looked at me and commenced to do a cleaning job on his ears. I spoke to him out loud: "You are such a pretty rabbit, you're so cute, I love you little guy". Yes, I was gushing over the little fellow. My mind said: "He is sooo ugly right now". True. But he is mine and I love him. He is the best bunny rabbit to me.

That's how God loves us. All the time.

THE RAG DOLL - Object lesson

In 1960, my mother taught me a lesson. It wasn't until many years later that I understood how great of a teacher she really was.

Raising an only child, everything was a one time deal - no second chance to do it again with brother or sister - and all the special days were that much more precious.
Lisette was my rag doll. My mom made her. She was big enough to fill my arms, big enough to get her dressed easily and sit in a baby chair. She looked pretty, a smile on her face, nice hair that didn't tangle, her body was firm and when I closed my eyes she was real. Lisette's wardrobe was hand made out of fabric remnants from our own clothes. She had summer dresses in colorful prints and madras, hand knitted stockings and gloves, pinafores with eyelets trims, skirts and sweaters, flannel nightgowns, and a rust colored winter coat with big buttons. A little girl's dream... playing mommy... matching clothes.

Door to door peddlers were common in those days. We bought small household supplies from a couple of them. "They are trying to make a living" my mother would say. Once, or maybe twice a year, a gypsy lady came to our door with a large bag of goods. That's when we bought shoes laces, black shoe polish "Kiwi" brand, boxes of large matches, wooden clothespins and such. Yes, they sold those little things at the "Echo" corner market literally steps away. But this lady was trying to make a little money to feed her growing family, and we helped her. It seemed (thru the eyes of of child), that she always had a new baby or was expecting one. It was the case this time.

With her that day, she had two children, two girls. I remember the oldest one, about my age, she was keeping the little one in check, already helping with carrying things to sell. During the course of the conversation the subject of time for resting and playing came up. By the answers given, it didn't sound like it was in this family's agenda - ever. The lady was saying how having a new baby actually forced her to have a vacation because she had to stay in the hospital a while (back then it was at least a week). As for playing, well, nobody had time for that... I felt sad listening to what sounded like a life all in gray. Pretty soon it was time to go the gypsy lady said. That's when my mother mentioned that sometimes people move away. I knew were she was going with that - we were moving!!! Our friends and neighbors knew it, and dinners and gatherings had been going on more often than usual. But this was hard news for this peddler. She let out a cry and took my mother's hands with tears rolling down her face. "Oh no! You can't leave!". Then we all hugged each other. After a while, the crying stopped and it was good- bye. That's when I said "Wait!". I ran to my room and came back with Lisette, my doll, and gave it to the oldest girl. She looked at me and smiled, took the doll and held her close to her heart. They walked away and the door was shut.

Before the little group was out of sight, I said I wanted to go outside and get my doll back. Gently my mother told me "No, you gave it away, it's hers now".

Many years later, I was moved out and lived in Geneva. Mom came to visit and see were I worked and lived. She talked to me about the day I gave Lisette away. She said that it was a special doll, she was even named after her. She told me that she didn't want me to give it away. But how could she let me take it back when she was trying to teach me?

WOW!!! Talk about living up to what you preach...

BLUE PEOPLE - The color of God

These "Blue People", are officially called Tuaregs. You will find them on their camels, traveling in the Sahara. They are a great semi-nomadic people, their ware is light, their food frugal, their culture ancient. They are unique from other nomadic tribes living in the world's largest desert (over 3 millions square miles), and best know for their salt trading caravans and goat herding.
They often refer to themselves as "The People Of The Veil". The men are the ones who wear it at all times. It does not come off, not even among family members. To dye the cotton from which these veils are made, they use natural dyes. A lot of blue - indigo blue. After a time of wearing such apparel, the skin takes on a blue tint, thus the surname "Blue People" given to them.

So were the Tuaregs.

Growing up, I was fascinated by their simple lifestyle, their dignity, and mostly by that unmistakable skin color. I thought it was pretty neat in the 20th century, and it wasn't somewhere in the jungle, but right in our backyard so to speak, one could actually meet them in an oasis.

Modern day ways, technology, conflicts, wars, restricted traveling rights, global warming and other factors have contributed to the decline of this great people. Some make a living as tour guides for western tourists, speak to them of their history. Others have turn to oil and gas operations promising to be more lucrative than any trading. You might say it was inevitable, times have changed, they needed to adjust... It's too bad, I find it kind of sad.


God's people have always been separated, it's in the Word. We are a peculiar people, a holy people.

Today, living for Jesus, we ought to have a certain unmistakable "tint". This world is a desert and we are the nomads. Do they know who we are by our "tint"? God's presence must emanate from us as we encounter people in the world. Immediately, they must know that something is different. I want God's spirit to permeate every aspect of my life and to be saturated by the Holy Ghost. We live and interact in the world and it's colors, but God's color will stay if we are "dyed" thru and thru. I want to be "true blue" for my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.