MUCH STUFF IN THE CLOSET - Who is it for?

It is always amazing to me how God works and prepares our hearts.

On Saturday night as I climb in the bed under the covers, a thought cross my mind and I spoke it out loud for my daughter to hear. What if it wasn't warm in the bed? How awful a feeling to be cold during the night. I felt so blessed to have such a warm bed, goose down comforter - pillow top and all. The thought didn't leave me for quite a while. How sad... night time... in bed ... cold.

This afternoon during the course of a lively conversation, waking up cold during the night came up. It was told to me just as I had felt it the evening before. No one said anything. Of course you know what I did. We had a couple of extra bedding sets in the closet...
Tonight, someone will not wake up because of the cold. Someone will snuggle up in a nice warm comforter and sleep tight.

Here is how it all comes together. For the last few months I have been very bothered by the stuff in our closets. I didn't want to just get rid of it, I needed direction. And it came. So we have been giving it away, one big storage tote at a time. Some things we felt to keep... Can't wait to see who they are for!!!

COLD NIGHT - Warm heart

The day after Thanksgiving, my daughter always puts up Christmas lights. White ones. She'll staple "icicles" all around the edge of the roof. Single strands will go on the top of the fence, in a couple of small trees like stars and on the play house to outline the roof. It makes it looks like a fairyland. This year she bought a few strands of "snow flakes".

A short while ago she plugged in the outdoor extension and laid the lights network on the grass. Just then, BunBuns came from the darkness and took a pose right there. It was so cute!!! I didn't have a chance to get a picture though. But I'll remember forever how beautiful he looked. His fat white belly, his ears erected at attention and his round hind parts with a little bit of tail showing. He sat just a few seconds but how special that was. I know, I'm a hopeless nature lover, and I love it !!!

She needs me. More staples.
Wow!!! It is nippy outside! Great!!! We do no get snow here, but I love some cold weather. You can see your breath ... you have to get the sweaters, scarves and the big jackets out ... you get to curl up with a warm throw ... make hot tea or chocolate ... bake everything ... it's winter time !
It's been a good day, thank you Lord for a special finishing touch.

P.S. Right when she was done and ready to come in, all the lights went out. Guess we'll have to look at it tomorrow.

Well, this the next day, Saturday. We checked the lights - blown strands.So we went to the store to buy several new ones. Ended up the snowflakes were causing the problem and blowing fuses over and over again.


So no snowflakes. No lights on the play house either. Too bad, it was really pretty. Not a complaint, just a fact. I am thankful for what we have and I love the way it looks.

THE PRIVILEDGE OF GIVING - And when you receive...

A few weeks ago we started collecting coats for our "Operation Homeless" as we did last year. My red, warm, hooded winter coat went last year and never got replaced. As soon as it was announced, I knew that I would purchase a lot of jackets and coats to give away this time.
I made a trip to the thrift store. They wouldn't take my large bill even though I planned on spending most of it, if not all. So I walked into the nearest store, a "99 cents" store. Asked for change," No, because everybody comes here to make change", the man said. The store is between two thrift stores. After telling the clerk briefly why I needed it, he asked "How much do you need?" How much do you have, I replied. He counted his bills, lots of small ones and gave me just about all of it. I offered for him to hold on to my large bill until I returned, but he refused. I ran back to the thrift store. The right kind of jackets seemed to be all lined up for me. I was done in a jiffy. The girl rang me up - four dollars short. Back to the "99 cents" store to get more money. He gave it to me! I bought the coats and filled the trunk of my car with them. All that happened so quickly, I was besides myself. I am still elated writing about it!!!
Besides my purchase, I was able to invite some people and everyone was watching. God really knows how to show off!!!
Guess what, I'm making another trip for some more!
There is nothing like working for God, being right where you are supposed to be, when you are supposed to, doing what you are supposed to, the way you are supposed to.
That was the giving part. The receiving part? In my closet hangs a brand new, super warm, soft, hooded (fake) leopard coat. For several years I have said that I would like one.

SHOWCASE - Fit for a King

This little Bower's Vine is the delight of bumble bees. They go way deep, brushing against all that little fuzzy stuff, right at the entrance of the deep rose colored gorge where the treasured nectar hides . I watch from a few inches away, and the big girls disappear in there! And every time, I am still fascinated. They back out and go to the next stop. They never visit the same flower twice in a row! At least in one sitting, and I cannot tell them apart.
This was not the case for this other small wonder. All summer long, butterflies visited BunBun's "kingdom" (9/29/07-The molting rabbit). Viewing the photos of the same kind of butterfly in a large format, I noticed a small notch missing from the right wing. This too, amazes me.
Take a look at these two pictures (8/28/07-Dried... ) in this blog, and (11/06/07-God's...) in " Looking in". Quite a survivor this little fellow!
Observing nature always makes me think of it's Creator. I delight in His work and I want Him to delight in me.

♥ HAPPY BIRTHDAY DADDY! ♥

♡ I don't know how
♡ to sing you a song,
♡ But I learned how
♡ to blow the flute!
♡ It may not be a tune,
♡ But I'm doing it for you.













♥ Look Daddy! I'm strong! One day I'll be just as strong as you! ♥


♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡






♡♡ ♡♡ ♥ Daddy, see how much I look like you ? ♥ ♡♡ ♡♡

♥ I look up to you. I want to please you. I want to be like you. ♥


♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡


♡♡ HAPPY BIRTHDAY DON-ANDRÉ ♡ ♡ ♡ WITH LOVE, MOM ♡♡

BLESSED - A state of mind

Not much, but the kids enjoy it. - Not much, but the birds love it.
Food, water, shelter, all my feather friends need, there, provided.



I am so blessed today!
For now I know the way!
God's been good to me!
I'm not what I used to be!

I've got a chance to go
Where milk and honey flow
It's mine the Savior said
If His Word I'd obey

One more thing to do
Bring souls, not a few
Share His love with all
For the Truth stand tall



Our Heavenly Father!!! Whatever we need, He makes sure that it's there for us. But it's so much more than needs! It is His desire that we would be blessed abundantly. All the glory goes to God. It's a witness of His goodness to those around us who do not know Him.




But whatever state I am in Paul said, I am content. My joy does not come from material things, that's a bonus!

A DIFFERENT PACE - Going with the flow

My daughter has several "favorite" flowers. One of them I could never grow successfully. No matter what I did, they died on me. But every years I'd plant some again. Today I'll "plant" a beautiful picture with a bonus, a little ladybug - another favorite.

Here Crystal, these will last you for as long I you want them too.

Until a couple of years ago, gardening was my ultimate thing to do, weather permitting. I would turn all the lights on inside the house and open the shades to stay out late in the spring time, sick with planting fever. In the summertime I'd get up before sunrise to enjoy the stillness and savor the sweet scent of the garden in full bloom. Of course I'd slip bak into bed most days! And I took naps on the swing, ahhh!!! On rainy days, I sat under the big umbrella, curled up in a comfy chair. I just about lived outside. I still would, but it's not possible right now. I miss it. Soon again...

♡ ♡ HAPPY ANNIVERSARY ♡ ♡

Ten years ago our family grew by one. My son Don-André married Marcela. This is a special day. Thank God for my daughter-in-law and my beautiful grandchildren, Jacob, Samuel and Naomi. Thank you Lord for Your Hand of protection and provision and for the many miracles You have done.

♡♡♡ I LOVE YOU ♡♡♡

GLOOMY DAY - My cup of sunshine

I'm only human, I'm just a woman,
Lord help me believe in all that I am and all I can be,
Show me the stairway, that I have to climb,
And Lord for my sake, teach me to take, one day at a time.

ONE DAY AT A TIME, SWEET JESUS, THAT’S ALL I’M ASKING OF YOU,
LORD GIVE ME THE STRENGTH TO DO EACH DAY, WHAT I HAVE TO DO,
YESTERDAY’S GONE SWEET JESUS, AND TOMORROW MAY NEVER BE MINE,
SO HELP ME TODAY, SHOW ME THE WAY, ONE DAY AT A TIME.

Lord I know You remember, when you walked among men,
And Jesus I know you're looking below and it's worse now than then,
Pushing and shoving, and crowding my mind,
So Lord for my sake, teach me to take, one day at a time.

Beautiful old song. My prayer today.
I may not have the words just right, correct me if you know them.

MEMORIES OF ANOTHER PLACE, ANOTHER TIME - Still the same after all these years.

♥En francais...
Back in August, I wrote a little story about carefree days in Switzerland. I thought it would be nice to show the river Thièle lined by beautiful poplars. Quite a change between summer time and winter. The swans stay all year round. In the winter season,
they move in town and live on the river banks under the main bridge. They are protected and add much charm to the area.
It's solid ice. But not for skating. They have outdoor skating rinks.
My mother always talked about how during very cold winters, the edges of the Lake of Neuchâtel would freeze up in waves. Well... it's pretty close. I am well adapted!!!
The pictures are from 2005 "La Matelote" - Sailing club - Yverdon - Switzerland. www.lamatelote.ch
♥Pour mes amis de langue française.
Il ya quelque mois, j' avais écrit une petite histoire à propos des peupliers dans la ville d'Yverdon et ses environs. Le vent (qui souffle la plupart du temps) produit un son distinct dans le feuillage frémissant. Les photos sont de ce petit coin. Une amie me dit que les memoires sont un trésor impuisable. Nous pouvons revivre ces moments et les visiter aussi souvent que l'on désire.

THE SCARF - Seed of compassion

Early fall wind was blowing in swirls of red, gold and brown. I loved the rustling sound of leaves, dancing like flowers on the sidewalk. The trees had lost their fullness and stood as giant stick people. It was getting colder every day. I walked briskly across the street to catch the bus. One glance at my watch - too late - I'll have to take the next one. At least it wouldn't be long. In Geneva, buses runs practically night and day, just a few moments apart during rush hour. In fact, sometimes the bus doesn't even stop because it's full, and a couple of minutes later another one follows. It's actually much more convenient to take the bus - no need to look for parking, stress over traffic or schedule. And there are stops everywhere.

As I waited, a frail elderly man slowly approach the station. I smiled and he smiled back. I asked him where he was going, and we began talking. My bus came and went. Other buses with divers destinations came and went. People got off, people got on. I wasn't in any hurry to go home anymore, this man had my attention. Besides, nobody was waiting for me. I was single. Come to find out, he was by himself too. He told me how he lost his wife and lived in a small furnished room. Yes, he had children, and even grandchildren, "all grown up", he said. Busy with their careers, not really in touch with him. His clothes, and shoes were of good quality. He wore an overcoat, a little worn but well tailored. He was clean with a close shave. I could see the the vestiges of a handsome, well groomed gentleman. Now stood before me an old man, forgotten - or maybe just a burden pushed aside.

"Are you hungry?" I asked while thinking to myself, it's about that time. Why not? Then I said to him: "Let's go get a bite to eat, my treat." I knew of a cozy little Mom & Pop restaurant nearby, so to dinner we went.
After that, we had a date once a week. He never asked for money, or anything else. Just someone to talk to. I learned about his life, his wife, their children. He loved them all. Now, he didn't even know for sure where they were . But he had been living in the same place for a long time.

Something happened to me. The thought kept coming to my mind over and over again - this could be my grandpapa. He is somebody's father, somebody's grandfather. This could be my grandpapa... Lonely, forgotten old man. I looked forward to our dinners. Winter would soon be here in full force, it was already dark early, raining off and on, cold. Then snow would fall, covering everything with a beautiful white ethereal blanket. How fun, muffled sounds, roasted chestnuts vendors, icicles, frosted windows... Then the holiday season, family gatherings, homemade goodies, warms embraces, late night fires with friends, gifts...

I wasn't much of a knitter in my younger years. But I bought yarn and needles and embarked on a work of love. A scarf. It took some time and a lot of taking apart and starting over until I got it right. It was maroon, long, thick and soft, knitted in the simplest stitch, with fringes on the end.
I was so excited to bring it to my next dinner date with the old man. Sure enough, he was at the bus stop, waiting. He took the bag offered to him and slowly pulled the scarf out. He wrapped it around his neck and his face shined with joy. This was our last dinner together.

It was still almost a month until Christmas. But I never saw the old man again. I looked for him in all the places were we had been and all around the avenues and boulevards near my work place. To no avail, he had vanished. No one had seen him and he didn't turn out in any rescue mission in the city.

The Master Gardener planted a seed that fall. My heart was forever changed.

HANDS - Silent words

The first hands in my life were those of Dr. Fréco. He delivered me in my parents home. He was our family physician and made many house calls during my childhood. My grandmaman had a terrible time with something in her back. For years she went from one doctor to another, with never more than a temporary relief. Until one summer, while vacationing at our house, she had another bad spell. Dr. Fréco had planned a home visit to check on me and the mumps. The touch of his hands was soothing. He straightened her back and the pain was gone for good! She told the story until the end of her life.

My mother's little sister "Tati", painted on porcelain. Entire dinner sets and tea sets were adorn with delicate blossoms. Scenery depicting days gone by and architectural beauties were applied in monochromatic tones on plates. Bouquets and flowering branches decorated vases, chargers, unusual glass bottles. She painted ravishing roses on canvas and silk. Stock cards and paper place mats could turn out a masterpiece if it fancied her to draw and nothing else was readily available. She had a knack for crafting with velvet, brocade and gold leafing. Her home was furnished with antiques from all over Europe. She owned a boutique filled with clothing bought from collections viewed in Paris, Rome, Munich, Vienna. She was beautiful and her surroundings reflected her love for art. She was an artiste, and painted until she no longer could.

My grandpapa had the largest hands I have ever seen. He had the frame of a tall man, but his growth was stunted after a childhood fall down a staircase. He developed a hump in his left upper back, more noticeable as the years went by. His shirts and suits always needed tailoring to shorten the sleeves. That's probably why his hands appeared even larger. He could work on the most delicate projects. He repaired our watches, clocks, miniature doll house furniture, transistor radios and of course any electrical or mechanical device. In his old days, his eyesight failed him. But I remember watching him eat peas with a fork, blueberries with a small dessert spoon. The silverware looked out of proportion, but he used it with deftness. At my wedding, he played a tune on the cups, glasses and plates. It was a riot.

My cousin Marianne, took classic guitar lessons. I was fascinated by her long slender fingers and her olive complexion. She took after our great-great-great grandmother, from Ottoman descent. She was my best friend and confident for many years.
I admired her, specially her gracefulness. She studied to be a special education teacher - and became an outstanding one. Her hands were like butterflies.

My favorite man in the world was my Uncl' Alphonse, one of my father's brothers, my godfather. His hands were rugged as farmers hands are, but with a gentleness about them in the way he tended the young shoots in the vineyard, the livestock in the barn and "Pierrot " his horse. He cared for kittens and dogs, the fruit of the earth and handled everything with respect.

My mother had the most tender hands, quite large for a women, but as light as a feather. She made heavenly pie crusts and pastries, weightless meringues and anise cookies, superb cakes with frothy mocha frosting. She canned, made preserves, jams and jellies, dried herbs bouquets for winter comfort cooking. She knitted without patterns, everything from hats to gloves, dresses, pullovers and knee high socks with intricate designs. Her fingers swiftly working a thin cotton thread with a crochet hook, she produced laces for table runners and handkerchiefs, doilies for framing and all sorts of elaborate gifts for friends and family. There was also embroidery and needle point. Even folding and ironing clothes looked like a work of love for every crease was precise. She played the violin. And she sewed... just for the asking.
At home, except when she read a book before bed, my mother's hands were never idle. More often than not, she was busy for someone else's enjoyment. She was a giver, gentle in all her ways.

My granddaughter Naomi, "Mimi", has little baby hands (even though she is growing fast). The other day, she caressed my shoulder and my arm in the most loving way. It was as a whisper of love, and her eyes were speaking from her heart. Is this how the brush of angel's wings feels?

These hands have spoken to me and enriched my life.

Today, I know Jesus. My hands belong to Him.

We are His hands on earth. Reach out and touch someone. Share Him.

... the Savior's hands. My life is in His hands.

IN THE GARDEN - ... the desires of your heart

Quelques mots en français pour les amis qui visitent de loin.
Les dernières semaines ont été difficiles pour moi. Suite d'une maladie, il voilà que je prenne des pillules qui m'interdisaient d'aller au soleil, et de passer beaucoup de temps dehors. Alors là, c'était comme demander à un papillon de ne visiter qu'une seule fleur!!! Démoralisant pour le moins dire...
La photo - Et oui... c'est une vue de mon petit coin prise depuis sous l'ombrelle où j'aime me reposer. Il y a du plaisir sans fin... au jardin.

Simple pleasures in the garden.

My two youngest children have a little joke going on: What to do with Mom if she wasn't able to get around any more - sit her comfortably in the garden with pots, plants, soil, seeds and things - check on her once in the while. Where is Mom? Oh, outside in the garden. They forgot to mention: books about birds and insects, binoculars and camera. But it's pretty close. Of course there's got to be a bunny running around and a dog and a kitty too. Simple pleasures.

This is the view from my favorite spot in the garden. The swing seems to be everybody else's favorite spot!!!
It's my place, and mine to share with all who would. Come and sit a while. Feel the peace. Sleep if you'd like. The birds will sing their lullaby.

If nature is your thing, forget time, God will meet with you there as He does with me. Thank you Lord for this little spot.

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.

DRIED LEAVES AND SUCH - A clear message

I love teaching my grandchildren the little that I know about nature.
For the most part, what I know, I learned it from the elders in my life.

The first and foremost of my teachers was my father. He was raised on a farm and had an immense respect for nature. He grew up helping with the hogs, cows, chickens, rabbits, horses, the vegetable garden and the vineyard. During WWI, his father was gone to the Prussian front so it was up to the kids to help my grandmother keep up with all the chores. My father remained a farmer at heart all his life, even after living in the city and working a job that demanded wearing a suit and tie.

We took walks as a family almost everyday. Long ones always on Sunday, unless the snow fell too thick or it rained too hard.
I learned so much during those walks. My father knew the name of every kind of tree, he could recognize any leaves, any seed or grain, even tell me about types of rocks and stones and their origins. He loved everything in nature, even the soil.

My parents and I picked wild berries in the summer, wild mushrooms in the fall, wild greens in the springs. With our harvest, my mother would prepare delicious evening meals to round up the day. Afterwards we'd go over our findings and decide on the ones "for keeps". My dad would tell stories and talks about his childhood. We'd place tender twigs, buds, flowers, leaves, seeds or any other gift from nature found that day between blotting papers with a weight on top, usually one of the many volumes from our well stocked book shelves.
Several weeks later, after these treasures dried up enough, came the part of affixing them in my 'Nature Scrapbook'. My mother always helped me write the captions under each of these botanical beauties. I loved it.

It was clear to me, that love for nature. The message stayed with me. It was backed up by a lifestyle.

Let me check and make sure that the message I give is clear and that my lifestyle says the same thing.

I know... I represent the King and His Word, and the Church.

THE BODY - 1+?=1

I have a cup, a mug to be exact, in my kitchen cupboard. It dates of several years ago when I managed an account for AT&T at the infancy of it's partnership with Lucent Technology. In other words, I've had it for a long time.
On one side of it is a picture of a large sail boat, the crew each at their post, working the winds. Each one is needed. Each was chosen to be on board.
On the other side is a quote: "Teamwork is the fuel that allows common people to produce uncommon results".
I've always loved that quote, I didn't know there was more to it. It reads like this:

Teamwork is the ability
To work together
Towards a common vision.

The ability to direct
Individual accomplishments
Towards organizational objectives.

It is the fuel that allows
Common people to obtain
Uncommon results.
(Mac Anderson - Simple Truth)

It may be an old quote, old story for some, but it still is true. Each one is a part and becomes part of the whole. Sounds a lot like the Church to me. All members in particular, part of ONE, the Body. So, how many can you add to one to make ONE? As many as the Lord has called. It takes all of us to make a whole.

Ephesians 4:16 "From whom the whole body fitly joined together and compacted BY THAT WHICH EVERY JOINTS SUPPLIETH, according to the effectual working in the measure of every part, maketh increase of the body unto edifying of itself in love". KJV

WIND IN THE POPLARS - The speed of time

When I was a child, we often went on vacation in Switzerland where my mother was from. Actually, it seems that it was several times a year. Yverdon, where my maternal grandparents lived, lays at the end of the Lake of Neuchâtel. The banks of the river Thièle that spills itself into the lake are lined with poplars.There are rows of poplars in the fields nearby . Many of the two lanes roads on the outskirts of town are lined with poplars. The wind blowing thru these trees makes a soothing rustling sound. It is an inseparable part of my fondest memories.

Today I went for a walk in my neighborhood park. The third time around the track, I noticed a sound. It was the soothing rustling sound of the wind blowing in the trees. In a flash, my mind took me back in time. It was just a few seasons ago, I was on summer vacation, going to the local Farmers Market downtown Yverdon. My grandmaman always bought everything fresh, everyday. That was the way we did things then. Today, I have grandchildren of my own, Jacob is 9 years old, Samuel is 8 and Naomi "Mimi" is 19 months old. I want them to have precious memories of days together, for next week,next month, and when they grow up. That'll be tomorrow!!! Where did the years go? How can time go so fast? The older I get, the faster it goes. My grandparents use to say that to us grandkids.

Memories of my childhood, in the 50's, 60's,was it really that long ago?

What is our life? Nothing but a vapor says the Word of God. What will you do with your life?

WHALE WATCHING - Keep your eyes on the Rock

Last week, my daughter and I took a short vacation in Morro Bay. One thing we wanted to do for sure, was to go whale watching. This is the time of the year when they feed in these parts of the coast. We took tablets to prevent motion sickness and on to the boat we went. The swells were pretty good, very little wind, some fog. I will tell you that we did see whales, a mother and her calf feeding. And did we have a show! These creatures are most graceful. They were slapping their tails and spewing from their spouts. We were also entertained by a band of seals acting like dolphins, lots of otters, even a family with a pup, and several comical sea lions. I thoroughly enjoyed myself. But my daughter Crystal did get sea sick (along with half of the people on the boat). The skipper said he wasn't too surprised, not much of a horizon to focus on.

Isn't it like living for Jesus? You've got to keep your eyes focused on Him. Sometimes it's so foggy you cannot see where you 're going, you can't even feel Him. But He is here. His Words is here. The ups and the downs of life can make you feel "seasick". Look ahead, don't look down at your feet that's where the dirt is.

Too much fog in Morro Bay to keep our eyes on the Morro Rock. It's never too foggy to keep our eyes on the Rock of Ages.

THE CITY GATES - No fairy tale

When I lived in North Africa with my parents, in the city of Constantine-Algeria, to be exact, times were unstable.It had been a french colony and now the people wanted their autonomy. Constantine sits up in the mountains, at the edge of the Sahara desert, a fortified city with walls and gates.
It was summer and we had been on vacation with friends in the coastal resort of Bône, enjoying the warm waters of the Mediterranean Sea. On the trip back home, one of our friend's car broke down. We waited there on the side of the road while the men worked under the hood. The sun was going down, everybody was getting nervous. After all, it was civil war. This was not a good place to be sitting.

A military truck and a jeep came by and stopped. They were on their way in, patrolling the road from the coast to Constantine.The soldiers urged us to get back to the city before dark, before the closing of the gates. Once the gates were closed, it was no small thing to get in, if you could get in at all. My father and the other men in our group all worked for an official department and carried official papers. The soldiers agreed to clear the way at the gate with the machine gun clad guards, up in the tower. I remember the uneasy feeling that came on our group once the darkness fell in the hills. Then fear crept in for some of us. Night had come, and it was really dark. We could hear a lot of things, couldn't see anything. Fighting was going on. This was a dangerous place to be.
Eventually the car was fixed and our little caravan started again, making it's way slowly towards the city. At the gates, the guards had been informed and they let us in. We were safe. Everything was okay.THE END - like a fairy tale - all is well that ends well.

Last night, just about 24 hours ago, I had my family on my mind. We are all on the road to the city so to speak. Everybody wants to get there and for everything to be okay. But it's not like my story, once the gates are closed, that's it, can't get in the city. The reality of it is sometimes far from us. This is not a fairy tale. I am just as guilty as the next person in the fact that It seems so far. But every time I pause and get ahold of it, it is anguish to my heart because I am not sure that we'll all get there. I've got to be saved first, my family and friends too and what about all those that I pass here and there? God help me, help us to make our election sure and to get a burden for the lost.

Do you know what I heard at church today? "The Lord is coming soon"

THE FIRST STEP - Where is the sacrifice?

It all depends on how you look at it. Frightening or exciting. Same as the glass full or empty. Only those who try succeed. Even the concept of success depends on how you look at it. If you don't try, you won't fail. But, you for sure will not succeed. You do what you can, only you know if you gave it all.
What! Hold back because of fear? Where did the fear come from?
Very young children/toddlers are not afraid to take the first step. They'll climb up, climb down, jump, or reach to pet that dog. Sure you have to teach them, not to hold them back, but to enable them to go ahead with the knowledge (tools) they need to make it a fun experience. They'll want to do it again.

Now that I've said it, let me try it.

The central air unit stopped working yesterday evening. 92° in the house at 10 PM. Needless to say it was a very long night! All fans on full blast, all windows and doors open, pretty much to no avail. By 4 AM the temperature had dropped to 81°. Not too bad.
Now, it's 7 AM. It's cool outside. I step out on the patio. Ahhh! It feels great. But not for long. In a few hours it will be in the three digits again. The prospect of the discomfort of a day without central air makes me feel nauseated already. I check the fuse box one more time and reset everything. Turn the switch on, and yes! The big fan is going. Get back inside, check the vents, it's blowing cold air. Thank God!

Where is the sacrifice? I'm not talking about living with or without central air. My mind is on our forefathers. They lived a life of sacrifice for the cause of revival. Times have changed. Technology is incredibly advanced. In these parts of the world, there is an overabundance of goods and endless choices in everything money can buy. In the natural, life is easier than ever.

Where is the sacrifice? What is easy for you to give up, may be difficult for someone else. What comes naturally to you, may be a real effort for another.
Time, money, comfort, security, whatever it may be, it will cost you and I.

Don't be scared of sacrificing. Great will your joy be when God rewards you. To win a soul, isn't that worth a sacrifice?