Stitches of Love

It was a huge expense in the 1960’s when my father purchased a $500 Singer sewing machine for my mother. We were all very excited while waiting for it on the day it was to be delivered. Finally it arrived! Carefully my mother unpacked it. A gleaming tan sewing machine atop a walnut finish wood cabinet. My mother lovingly and neatly arranged all the accessories and her sewing notions in the two cabinet drawers.

From that day on, it seemed like my mother sewed every day. I loved the flower print sun dresses she made for me to wear to school. I was amazed at how perfectly she made my Pioneer Girl uniform. It looked just like the store bought one! As I got a little older, she made me fashionable culottes too. All summer long through the dinning room window, I heard the hum of my mother’s sewing machine as she kept one eye and ear on me and my three sisters swimming in our backyard pool.

My mother made most of her own clothes too. Casual pants and shirts for around the house and dresses and suits for church too. But there is one outfit my mother made that I will never forget. It was a pale blue and white plaid polyester jacket and skirt set. Everyone thought it was well crafted and quite beautiful too. Especially me. But for some reason my mother didn’t believe she had done a good enough job, and it hung in her closet unworn.

It wasn’t long after my mother made that outfit that

Faith Will Bring You Home

I haven't blogged for a few weeks because I've been facing a very big life challenge. The divorce my husband desired had finalized. It was time for us to go our separate ways. Since I was going to be living on a lower income, I couldn't afford our current rent and our landlord wanted to sell the house. On top of the financial issues involved in purchasing, the rental house was really too small, in need of repairs and the community didn't offer any recreational or socialization amenities. Yes we all made do since we knew it was temporary, but now I needed a more desirable and permanent home for me and my son. And I needed to find it fast!

I wondered how in the world I was going to find a slightly larger home, in good repair, with a lower rental fee and family oriented recreation and socialization offerings for me and my son? I knew I would have to move to a new county and of course, I needed a Baptist church and good school nearby.

I had been preparing my son for daddy leaving and us moving for a year. But now that the time was upon us, I was beginning to worry about how he would really react when it actually happened. He had to leave the house he lived in for 3 years, friends he made, and the only school and church he had ever attended all at once. On top of that, I had to pack all of my son's and my own belongings for moving.

I set a rental limit for myself that I knew I could afford based on bills I presently paid. I saw lots of rental offerings online in my price range, but when I went to look at them, they were very disappointing. I just couldn't imagine living in any of them. Disrepair by landlords who just didn't seem to care was the theme of my search for a new home.

Time was running out and I admit, worry was trying to overshadow my faith. But I just couldn't give in to it! I prayed every night for the Lord to direct me to the perfect home for me and my son. I knew the Lord had never let me down before and I assured Him in prayer that I knew He wouldn't now.

Low and behold after looking at another disappointing offering, the real estate agent said, "I have another home available that is just $35 more than you budgeted for. Do you want to look at it?" I was immediately nervous about the extra expense, but I found myself saying, "It couldn't hurt to look, could it?"

It was just perfect! A slightly larger 2 bedroom home with a sun room and a detached 2 car garage on a 1/2 acre of Pocono Mountain land with mature trees and a patio. All for $215 less than I was paying at the smaller house with no sun room and garage on a smaller piece of property! The house is in in a community with lakes for boating, fishing, clean beaches with a life guard, play grounds and Friday Family Night. I knew there was a church within reasonable driving distance and the real estate agent told me how close the elementary school was. I found myself saying, "I'll take it!" While driving home however,

Easter Sweets

My son has always been a little afraid to learn to ride his bike, especially on our rocky Pocono Mountain community roads. Since Easter was a beautiful Spring day, in the afternoon, my husband and I took my son to the school parking lot. There he could practice riding on a smooth paved surface. We were delighted when he rode his bike for the longest time ever with the most joy and confidence he has ever displayed so far. We both just wished he could do the same at home.

As we were about to pull into our driveway my son said, "Look! Yellow flowers." My husband stopped our truck for a moment so we could enjoy them. I said, "Bloomed for the first time ever on Easter day!" as my son said, "Ahhh... That's sweet."


This is the 2nd Spring we have lived in this rented house. No daffodils bloomed here the year before. The sight of them was an unexpected, beautiful treat.



After we pulled into our driveway, my son asked his dad to get his bike out of the truck. He had never done that before. He would just run into the house and start playing, leaving the fear of bike ridding behind.

My husband and I couldn't believe it when my son jumped on his bike and peddled off. Not a worry on his mind, just a huge smile across his face. It seemed like the sight of those daffodils filled his little heart with so much joy he forget his fear.

As I watched my son ride off and a tear of joy spilled down my cheek, I thought, 'Yes... The daffodils are sweet.' Then I thanked God for those daffodils, a symbol of new beginnings and rebirth. A symbol of the gifts made possible for us all through Jesus our Savior. Those gifts which are our true Easter sweets.

The Receiving of Gift Giving

On Halloween we give candy, on Thanksgiving we give thanks and on Christmas we give gifts. Since today is October 1st, I can't help but think about giving. More specifically gift giving.

As far back as I can remember, I received candy on Halloween and Valentines Day and gifts for Christmas and birthdays. As a child I had birthday parties and attended birthday parties and gifts were exchanged. In school I made gifts for my parents for every holiday.

In Sunday school I learned that the three wise men gave valuable gifts to the Christ child. Being a Christian, I was raised to believe that it is better to give than to receive and that God loves a cheerful giver. As a young girl I started saving my allowance and buying gifts to give to family and friends.

When I started working at the age of seventeen, the gifts I gave became more expensive. I always tried to give people gifts that they would like, just as I hoped to receive the things that I wanted for gifts. I remember going from store to store in mall after mall looking for just the right item, within my budget, for everyone on my Christmas gift giving list.

When I was 20, I was working in a department store restaurant. One of the sandwich makers was an older woman who I became friendly with. One day she announced with a big smile that she was going to become a grandmother. I knew that her daughter was just seventeen and still in high school, but my friend was determined to look at the positive side of the situation.

My friend wanted to give her daughter a small baby shower. It would only be a couple of dozen women, family members and a few of her daughter’s friends. But with all of the new baby expenses falling on her shoulders, she just didn’t know where she would come up with the money for party supplies and favors to make it nice.

That weekend I was thinking about my friends problem. Having always been a little crafty, I came up with the idea of making baby shower party favors and a baby shower umbrella. I went to the craft store and purchased poster boards, pink and blue construction paper, mini pink and blue plastic baby safety pins, baby bottles and rattles and tape and glue. Then I went to the fabric store and purchased pink and blue gingham cloth, thread and pink and blue ribbons and laces.

I spent the weekend making little pink and blue baby cradles from poster board and construction paper. I lined the little cradles with mini gingham baby blankets trimmed in lace. All my friend would have to do is fill the little cradles with candy for adorable baby shower favors. Then I took an old umbrella and carefully removed the fabric from it. I used it as a pattern to sew a pink and blue gingham baby shower umbrella. I decorated the umbrella with ribbons and the mini safety pins, baby bottles and rattles. I boxed the completed baby cradle favors in the two sides of an open shirt box and wrapped the umbrella in a clean, plastic, drawstring trash bag.

When I went to work on Monday, I gave my gift to my friend. She jumped up and down and yelled with joy. I still remember the smile on her face, the light in her eyes, and the long, strong hug she gave me as she said thank you. I felt as happy as she did!

The giving of that gift taught me that the true receiving of gift giving is being able to share in the joy that bubbles within the heart of the one who receives a gift they truly cherish.

I continue to give gifts on special occasions and holidays and I must admit, I look forward to receiving gifts as well. But deep in my heart I know that the best gift I can give is the gift that allows me to experience the receiving of gift giving once again.

The Weeping Willow

I was walking alone a lonely road and came upon a weeping willow tree. I noticed that the ground all around the tree was soaking wet. Now weeping willows can absorb a lot of water, so there must have been a great down pour to create such a condition. As I stood there and gazed upon the tree, I noticed that there was a steady stream of water coming from the leaves, yet the sky was as blue as could be and not a dark cloud to be found.

There was a sadness coming from the tree. It had spent a number of years weeping on the ground and then tried to use its own tears to nourish itself. Its roots had become rooted due to all the tears and its leaves were always hanging limp and lifeless. No matter how much the sun shined, it could never overcome all the water that the tree was releasing.

As sadness overcame me, I closed my eyes. All of a sudden there was a great wind. The wind was so powerful that it started to dry up the wet, soggy ground. The tree was still weeping, but the wind overcame the tears before they hit the ground and got into the root system. Although I only had closed my eyes for a moment, it seemed like the vision lasted for days. As the ground dried out, I noticed that there was less and less water dripping from the tree. Finally, the leaves started to look alive again. The ground was dry and I even noticed some new branches being formed. Then I opened my eyes, only to see that nothing had changed.

The vision I saw was the hope for the weeping willow. At the moment a great sadness came over me. You see I was standing on the road and it was dry. I couldn’t help but think, “What can I do”? Should I try to try and convince the tree to stop weeping. It had been told since it was born that it is a weeping willow. Should I try and dry the ground where it is planted, I have nothing that will do that. I closed my eyes again asked God to send His mighty Wind and dry the ground.

As I stood there praying with my eyes closed, I saw His mighty Wind catch the tears that were falling from the weeping willow and take them upward. He was taking all the sadness from that tree upon Himself. The ground started to dry out and after it had dried, the roots got stronger and the weeping willow stopped weeping.

I asked God why he had let the tree live in such a terrible condition for all those years and He replied, “The weeping willow never asked for my help”. He said that He was just waiting for someone to come by and have enough compassion to ask for the weeping willow. God told me that I didn’t have to know how to fix the problem; I just needed to have compassion and ask the One who could fix the problem.

I opened my eyes, saw a restored tree, and continued down the road.

This inspirational story was submitted by Bill Webster.

God's Amazing Creatures

Every year I fill a feeder with song bird seed. I love watching the colorful little birds sharing the seed and fluttering from tree to tree. Occasionally I would see a deer walk by and nibble on a few dropped seeds. Just enough to fill my feeder about once a week.

This year, living in a new home, I erected a brand new bird feeder and filled it with my favorite song bird feed. As often as possible, I quietly sneak out onto the deck and watch for my feathered friends to visit.

To my surprise, I found God's creatures to be a bit more crafty in this new neighborhood. Squirrels and chipmunks scurried right on up the thin, slippery, copper pipe pole and filled themselves with seed side by side with the birds. I find myself filling my bird feeder every other day in this new home.

Then early one morning I saw the most amazing thing! Just as I and my almost 1 year old Cocker Spaniel came out the front door, I saw a bunny rabbit hop off the bird feeder to the ground and hop away. I've never heard of a rabbit climbing. I wondered just how it accomplished this feat. All I know is if it was hungry enough to do so, then it was surely thankful for what it had received.

For every creature of God is good, and nothing is to be refused if it is received with thanksgiving; 1 Timothy 4:4

What Do Dads Do Anyway?

I was watching my husband teach my son how to throw a football out in the front yard one day last week. I was amazed at how detailed and gentle he was in his explanation and demonstration. When my son's throw looked all wrong, I was amazed at how patient and soft spoken my husband was as he repeated his explanation with a full 2nd demonstration.

When my son was younger, it was I who taught my son to walk, talk and dress himself. I handled potty training, table manners and so many things that I often wondered, just what are a dad's responsibilities? It seemed like my husband did all the fun things like play with him, tuck him in bed at night and show him off to anybody and everybody who would look and listen.

Now I don't wonder anymore. Now I see that while all the things I taught my son were important, my husband has plenty to teach my son, on his own, in his own time, in his own way. I realize now that my husband wasn't just teaching my son how to throw a football, he was teaching him how to be detail oriented, patient, understanding, how to try again and not give up, and most importantly, how to be a good dad.

The scriptures say,

There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven: Ecclesiastes 3:1

So let us rejoice that we have fathers, grandfathers, husbands who are fathers and for the fathers that our sons will become, all because they have been blessed with a father who does so very much when the time is right.

A Memorail Day Flag

I remember the Memorial Day weekend after my mom had passed away. My father had decided we would do a spring cleaning and paint our bedrooms new colors. In my room I had found a small, old flag. A remnant from a Memorial Day parade we had attended years earlier.

The flag, the small type you hold and wave, had faded from years of display in my room. I remembered attending the parade. There was a crowd, music and cheers. Each of my three sisters and I had our chance to sit on my father's shoulders for a better view. As I looked upon that old flag, at the age of twelve, all I saw was a fading memory easily discarded for a new room make over.

I took my pile of discards downstairs and outside to the garbage can. My father was outside in his work clothes in the back yard. He saw the flag in my pile and nearly hit the roof! That was when I learned the true meaning of Memorial Day and the American flag.

My father explained how Memorial Day was a day to remember our fallen soldiers, a day to honor their bravery and feel their families loss. He explained the flag was never to be thrown in the garbage but held in revere, how it stands for the freedom our soldiers make possible for us. It wasn't just the words my father spoke but the emotion with which he spoke. For the first time, I truly understood. After we finished cleaning and painting, I hung my flag in my room once again where it belonged.

Many Memorial Days have come and gone. No matter where I am or what I am doing, I remember the true meaning of Memorial Day and I hang an American flag. A little American flag has been posted outside my tent on camping trips and from apartment and condo deck railings. A large American flag blows in the breeze in front of my home in the Poconos.

Personalized Soldier's Photo Memorial Garden Flag

Thank God for our soldiers past and present! Thank God for our freedom! Stop your barbecue, beach fun or camping trip for just a moment on Memorial Day and remember its true meaning. 

My Mother’s Easter Lily

When I was a child, every year my father would buy my mother an Easter lily. Her eyes would beam with joy when she looked at her Easter lily and with love when she looked at my dad. Every year my mom would plant her Easter lily in her little garden in the front yard. She would tend it lovingly in hopes that it would bloom again the next year. For some unknown reason, they never did. The stalk would rise from the ground but the flowers never blossomed. Of course that never stopped my mother from trying again year after year.

My Mom passed away in March of 1971. That was the first year my father didn’t buy an Easter lily. I missed that Easter lily and the joy it brought into my mother’s eyes. Of course my church had a numerous number of Easter lilies laid out on the alter in the shape of a cross. I remember sitting in church that Easter Sunday and not being able to take my eyes off that cross of Easter lilies. Tears began to trickle down my face as I thought of the joy that would have beamed from my mother’s eyes had she been there with me to see that huge cross of Ester lilies.

While driving home from Easter Sunday service, I started to wonder what it is was about a simple white trumpet-shaped flower with bright green leaves that brought so much joy into my mother’s eyes and why they were so popular in churches at Easter. I decided I would find out more about the Easter lily.

I went to the library and did some research. I found out that the lily is a symbol of joy, new life, new hope and the resurrection of Jesus. The bulb symbolizes the tomb of Jesus, and the flower blossoms symbolize his life after death. I found out that lilies are often called the "white-robed apostles of hope." Legend has it that beautiful white lilies sprung up in the Garden of Gethsemane where drops of Christ's sweat fell to the ground in his final hours of sorrow. The Easter lily has become a symbol for a beautiful, flawless Savior.

I also found out that The Easter lily is not naturally a spring flower. Florists force them under controlled conditions to blossom in time for Easter. As I knew, churches decorate alters with masses of Easter Lilies and people, like my father, give them to loved ones as Easter gifts.

I always believed in Jesus’ resurrection and had faith in His promise of everlasting life. Therefore, I believed that the soul of my mother, who was a good Christian, was in Heaven with our Savior and God almighty. Even so, grief over the loss of my mother laid heavy in my heart.

One day later that spring, as I arrived home from school and started walking up the steps to my home, I glanced over into my mother’s little garden. I saw for the first time, a single white lily that had blossomed upon a tall green leafy stalk.

You might think that I would have felt sadness that my mother was not alive to witness that single lily blossom, I did not. With my newly acquired knowledge of the symbolism of the Easter lily, I felt great joy. As my eyes followed the trumpet-shaped blossom from the narrow end to the wider end and on up towards the Heavens, a great sadness lifted from my heart. My mother’s new everlasting life in Heaven at the feet of our Savior was truly beautiful and flawless. I thanked the Lord for that single lily blossom for it said my mother is at peace and that she is always here with me, here inside my heart. For the first time I had hope for a future without so much grief.

Now so many years later, I realize how important asking God for guidance in everything we do is. Sometimes life takes twist and turns in ways we don’t understand. But if we pray and keep our faith, the Lord will guide our every action towards an end that He does understand.

Just think, if my father hadn’t bought my mother an Easter lily every year, and my mother hadn’t planted every single one even though she never saw a second bloom, I would never have felt the inexplicable joy and comfort that I did when I witnessed that single lily bloom.

May the Lord’s will guide your hands in everything you do.

Remember your mother with a Personalized Easter Lilies Photo Ornament

Janitor or Guardian Angel

When my son was a month old, we made a trip out of state so my parents could hold their new Grandson for the first time. While driving home, my son started wailing to be fed. I couldn’t bear to leave him crying in hunger for the ½ hour it would take to arrive home, so we stopped at the rest area just ahead.

My son’s bottle was ice cold from the cooler causing him to cry even louder with hunger and dismay. I realized, running the bottle under hot water would heat it up so I sent my husband to the men’s room to do my biding while I tried to comfort my son.

My husband found the “hot” water from the faucet wasn’t even lukewarm. It would never warm the bottle to my son’s liking. Just as he turned from the sink to return to me with the bad news, he was surprised by a janitor standing right behind him. The janitor offered to turn on the main hot water spigot and heat up the bottle for my son. In less than a minute the bottle was sufficiently warmed. My husband thanked the janitor and returned to me and our son.

As I fed my son who greedily satisfied his hunger, my husband told me what had just happened. He said, “It’s strange that I didn’t hear the janitor come into the men’s room. The hinges on the door squeaked loudly when I entered and left. He was just suddenly there.”

When my son finished his bottle we started for home. Just as we passed the main entrance to the rest area building, out popped the janitor waving goodbye with a huge smile. I waved a big thank you to the janitor and turned and said to my husband, “You know, if he had stepped out of the building just a second later, I would have missed him! And, did you notice how glowing his eyes were, just like heavenly stars ”

I often remember the sudden and unusually quiet appearance of the janitor in the men’s room just when we needed him, his incredibly good timing appearing just as our car passed the building entrance and his beautifully glowing eyes. I wonder, was the janitor really just a man or perhaps my son’s guardian angel?

My Little Drummer Boy

I asked my son to write a letter to Santa and tell Santa what he wanted for Christmas. His letter was short and sweet;

Dear Santa

DRUMS

Brandon

He elaborated by telling me he wanted four drums, one really big drum and two cymbals, not a small drum and only one cymbal. I told him Santa has so many little boys and girls to deliver presents for, maybe he will only bring one drum and one cymbal. My son sat down and wrote another letter to Santa;

Dear Santa

BIG DRUM
2 CYMBALS

Brandon

I was up all night Christmas Eve. First wrapping presents and then anticipating my sons awakening. After the, "WOW! look at all the presents Santa brought for me!" and my son checked to make sure Santa ate his big cookie and drank his water (my son said Santa likes water not milk) my son went straight for the biggest box. Before he even opened it, he knew it was the really big drum with the two cymbals. After an hour of assembling the entire set, including the seat, my son began to play very enthusiastically. That's when I realized, I should have wrote a letter to Santa;

Dear Santa,

Ear Plugs

Mommy

I thank God every day that I have a happy, healthy, energetic little boy. I wouldn't trade him for anything in the world. Although right now, I would trade almost anything else for those ear plugs!

To Be or Not To Be a Shepherd

For the Christmas play, scheduled for this evening at our church, all the little boys in my son's Sunday school class were asked to dress-up as and play the parts of shepherds. My son was not thrilled. He wanted to be Joseph.

I explained to him that there was only one Joesph and he was a grown-up. That is why one of the older boys was going to dress-up as and play the part of Joseph. But there were many little boys who were shepherds. That is why more than one little boy can dress-up as and play the parts of shepherds. My son still wanted to be Joseph.

I began to wonder how could I make my son want to be a shepherd. I went over the story of the nativity in my head, and I thought I had figured it out.

I explained to my son that the shepherds were very special to God. The only people that God sent an angel to, to tell them that the baby Jesus was born, was the shepherds. My son said, "OK Mommy. . . I'll be a shepherd, because if I'm not God won't have anybody to send His angel to."

The Poinsettia Christmas Flowers

Everywhere you go as Christmas approaches, you see poinsettias. In my home, on people's porches and steps, poinsettia adorned clothes and jewelry and filling the church on Christmas eve. As lovely as they are in brilliant red, soft rose or creamy white, you have to wonder just why they are so prevalent and considered the Christmas flower. I discovered this wonderful story which so beautifully tells the legend of the poinsettia Christmas flower.

There once was a poor Mexican girl who had no gift to present to the Christ Child at Christmas Eve Services. As Pepita walked slowly to the chapel with her cousin Pedro, her heart was filled with sadness rather than joy.

Pedro tried to console her saying, "I’m sure, that even the most humble gift, if given in love, will be acceptable in His eyes."

Then Pepita saw a patch of weeds growing at the side of the road Not knowing what else to do, she knelt down and gathered a handful of the weeds and fashioned them into a small bouquet. Looking at the scraggly bunch of weeds, Pepita felt more saddened and embarrassed than ever by her offering. As Pepita fought back a tear, she entered the small village chapel.

Pepita approached the alter remembering Pedro's kind words; "Even the most humble gift, if given in love, will be acceptable in His eyes." She felt her spirit lift as she knelt to lay her bouquet of weeds at the foot of the nativity scene.

Suddenly, the bouquet of weeds burst into blooms of brilliant red! All who saw them were certain that they had witnessed a Christmas miracle right before their eyes. From that day on, the bright red flowers were known as the Flores de Noche Buena, or Flowers of the Holy Night, for they bloomed each year during the Christmas season.

Interestingly enough, poinsettias were first introduced in the United States in 1825 by Joel Roberts Poinsett. While serving as the first United States Ambassador to Mexico, he visited Taxco and found the flowers growing on the adjacent hillsides.

By an Act of Congress, December 12 was set aside as National Poinsettia Day. The date marks the death of Joel Roberts Poinsett who died in 1851.

On this day I will enjoy the beauty of the poinsettia and be reminded of the greatest love of all, that bestowed upon us by Jesus Christ our Lord and Savior.

Falling Leaves

As my 5 year old son and I walked to the bus stop this morning, we enjoyed the bounty of leaves that have turned color upon the trees. One tree after another line each side of the streets we walk to the bus. Each tree presenting it's own unique crown of red, yellow or orange leaves.

"Why do the leaves turn colors Mommy?" My son asked me.

I explained that the days are shorter and dryer as winter approaches and less sunlight and water cause the leaves to turn colors.
My son stopped several times along the way. He picked up a leaf here and a leaf there. Each time he picked up a leaf, he happily informed me of the color and size of the leaf and then placed it back where he found it.
"Why are the leaves different colors Mommy?" he asked.
I explained that there are all different types of trees and that the type of tree will determine the color its leaves will turn in Fall.
My son asked, "Why do the leaves fall off the trees Mommy?"
I explained that the leaves fall off the trees so that the tree trunk and branches can save all their strength to survive the cold snowy winter and grow new leaves next year.

My son and I were the first ones to arrive at the bus stop this morning. We gazed across the street at the lake. We watched as the sun shone upon the leaves that fell one by one from a single tree with the lake shimmering in the background. At the same time, both my son's hand and mine reached for one another. Hand in hand we watched silently as each leaf drifted back and forth in a gentle breeze until it found its way down to its resting place upon the ground.

Soon the other children and their mothers arrived. My son chattered with the children and I with their mothers. The school bus arrived and my son ran off. I waved goodbye and started walking back home.

As I made my way back home, I remembered the moment not so long ago when hand in hand, silently, together, my son and I watched the leaves falling from a tree. At that moment, my son forgot all his questions and I forgot all my answers. For just one moment, my son and I were suddenly struck speechless by the beauty and admiration of a living canvas of color, light and movement that only God could paint. We shared that moment together through a loving touch.

I thanked God for the beauty of the earth He created, for my loving son and for that special moment in time. I prayed that I and my son would always be able to put aside the reasoning of nature long enough to enjoy the beauty of it. I prayed that our relationship would always remain loving. I prayed that in my old age I would be blessed with as many precious memories as there are leaves falling from a single tree, memories as beautiful and as touching as today's.

My Little Angel

I wrote this true story in September of 2007....

The first time I set eyes on my newly adopted son he was howling so loud, I thought he could be heard on the other end of the earth. But the moment I picked him up

and held him in my arms, his crying stopped. Then I bowed my head and thanked God for sending me my little angel.

From that moment on, I swear, my son rarely ever cried. Even when he woke up in the middle of the night he would babble joyfully and play with his crib toys and just wait for me to come to change his diaper or feed him.

When my son was a year old, other mothers were amazed that he would sit in his play pen with his toys for a few hours at a time without crying while I worked on my home business or cooked or cleaned house. One mother said, "My kids never left me alone that long!" I just smiled at my son, my little angel.

At the age of two, complete strangers would stop me in stores and comment on what a good little boy he was. He never screamed, cried, tried to jump out of the cart or demand things. He sat still and smiled and said, "Hi!" to everyone we passed by. I was so proud of my little angel.

One day when my son was three, we were having a conversation while waiting on line to pay for groceries. The woman behind us said, "I can’t believe he says please and thank you on his own at his age!" and I said, "Of course he does. I say it to him." Then I thought to myself, 'way to go, my little angel!'

Then my son turned 4 and I wanted to know, where oh where did my little angel go? How come I don’t have 5 minutes to myself, not even to go to the bathroom? How come when we are in the store he constantly makes obscene noises so other people look at him like he must be mentally disturbed? I’d also like to know who taught my son say the word no? It couldn’t have been me when I yelled, "No!" when I found him standing on the back of the couch or when I yelled, "No!" after the tenth time I had already said, "No." when he asked for, "Another cookie Mommy?" or when I yelled, "No!" when I discovered he spilled juice all over my glass coffee table and then rubbed a shaker full of salt into it, could it?

I started wondering for this upcoming Halloween, if I shouldn’t dress my son in a costume of half Mr. Jackal and half Mr. Hyde because one day he loves something and the next he hates it. One day he loves bananas and the next he hates them. One day he loves hot dogs and the next day he hates them. One day he loves cereal and the next day he hates it!

Then a few nights ago, I received some bad news and started to cry. My son walked over, sat on the couch next to me, put his little hand in mine and quietly said, "Don’t cry, I’m here Mommy." I picked my little angel up onto my lap and hugged him tight. Then I bowed my head and thanked God for sending me my little angel, even if a little of the devil has gotten into him lately!

A Grandmother's Story

Here is my story it is completely true, yet when I tell the story to my family or other people they look at me as if I'm crazy.

I was at a real low time in my life.

I had tried to commit suicide. 2 days later I was asleep at home, when in my dreams a voice came to me and called me by my name. I don't remember being able to see the person the voice was coming from, but in my heart I knew it was Jesus. He told me that I still had things to do. To be strong. And then he kissed my forhead and the most beautiful light engulfed me. During this I felt so much love. It was so pure and enlightening. But I tell you everytime I see a beautiful sunset it reminds me of that light that surrrounded me, not as brilliant but close.

4 years after this I received custody of my grandson and a year later of my granddaughter. It took us 3 years to adopt them. They are blessing and I thank God everyday for giving us his son Jesus and my 2 beautiful grandkids.

Renee Hall

My Baptism

The Bible tells us that at the age of twelve (Luke 2:41-50) Jesus taught in the temple. The Baptist church my family attended believed that not until the age of twelve would a child be mature enough to understand the meaning of the Bible scriptures, Baptism and to attend church services instead of Sunday School after Baptism. Therefore, Baptisms were performed by the minister for the 6th grade Sunday class each year. Everyone in my 6th grade Sunday school class was twelve years old that spring, except for me. I was only eleven years old.

My mother had to fight the minister and the deacons of the church in order for me to be allowed to be Baptized at the age of eleven with the rest of my class. I was questioned separately by the minister behind huge, closed, mahogany doors. Yet I was not afraid. I knew I was ready for Baptism, I understood the scriptures that had been taught to me thus far and I wanted very much to start attending Church services with my parents. I certainly did not want to repeat the 6th grade Sunday school class. I answered the minister’s questions from my heart. I guess I passed the test and/or my mother won her case, because I was indeed Baptized with my 6th grade class at the age of eleven.

On Baptism day I was menstruating and worrying about leakage. But when I walked down the steps of the Baptismal into the pool of water, suddenly all my worries disappeared. I prayed my sins would be washed away and I would live the life of a good Christian, that my faith would stand strong and I would be worthy of eternal life.

I heard the ministers words clearly as I was lowered into the Baptismal pool, but as I rose, I did not.

Matthew 3:1
And when Jesus was baptized, he went up immediately from the water, and behold, the heavens were opened and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove, and alighting on him; and lo, a voice from heaven, saying, "This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased.
Although I did not actually see a dove or hear God's voice as Jesus did when he was Baptized by John the Baptist, I felt the overwhelming warmth of God's and Christ’s love fill my heart and entire soul so fully, nothing else existed at that moment.

After I left the Baptismal pool my mother was waiting for me with tears of joy in her eyes and open arms which I quickly filled. Words were not necessary as we hugged. We both knew in our hearts that now we were both Christian women in the eyes of one another, God and Jesus Christ.

Why not share your story of when the love of God and Jesus Christ entered your heart and soul? I’d love to hear it!

Two Friends, Two Faiths & One Day At Camp

As a child, I was very clumsy, not at all athletic and very shy. I was so clumsy my best friend and I laughed about it while reminiscing right before I moved away from home at the age of eighteen. I was so shy, my best friend told me, that people thought I was stuck up. As we reminisced that night, we talked about a very special day at summer camp.

I was raised Baptist and my girlfriend was raised Catholic. The differences in our two faiths, made no difference to us at all. We were Christian friends. It was the summer I was 13 and my girlfriend was 12. Together we went to an all girls, Christian summer camp for a week. Little did we know as we packed our bags in excitement of our trip, that one day that week our two faiths would join together and an event would take place that we would never forget.


Camp in the Adirondack Mountains was beautiful. A combination of walking on dirt paths through the forest, gazing at a clear blue sky and breathing in fresh clean air, always made feel closer to God. There was a lake for swimming and boating and lots of other outdoor activities like archery, volley ball and horse back riding. Of course we had private Bible reading times and class Bible discussions, said grace at meal times and sang Christian songs around the campfire at night.

I thought all the girls that would be at camp believed in God and Jesus Christ and the words of the Bible and for the most part, they would all be kind and friendly like me and my girlfriend always tried to be. But I found out that I was wrong. There was one girl who was constantly taunting and teasing all the other girls. We tried to be nice to her, be friends with her, include her in our activities, but she always turned things sour. It wasn’t long before no one liked her and we all just tried to avoid her and ignore her words.

One day it seemed she was determined to get my goat. She made fun of my clumsiness, my week, non-athletic body and calmed me names. I turned the other cheek time and time again. Of course that only made her madder and madder.

Finally she shouted at me, "You’re a fool if you actually believe all those stories in the Bible, in a God that has the power to create man, in a Jesus who performed miracles and in Heaven!"

Her words were so shocking to me, so repulsive to me, so insulting to me, before I knew it I blurted out, "You think just because you have muscles in your arms you are stronger than me. Don’t you? You think that just because you can‘t see God that you shouldn’t believe in Him, don’t you? You think that just because you have never seen a miracle that there is no such thing? Well, I can prove you are wrong!"

"Oh really…How?" she taunted.

"I’ll beat you in arm wrestling!" I shouted. She laughed so hard I thought she would fall over. The look of shock on my girlfriend’s face scared me. What I had just said was ridiculous!

A crowd of girls had formed around the three of us. They all knew I was clumsy, week and shy. They all knew she was strong, she had huge muscles in her arms that she loved to flex, she was loud and she could be very nasty. They were all so quiet, you could hear the breeze rustling in the grass behind us.

I said, "Me and my girlfriend will pray. We believe in God, we believe in Jesus, we believe in the stories in the Bible, we believe in miracles and I will win."

I turned to my girlfriend and we took a few steps back and we closed our eyes and we each prayed silently. We opened our eyes and she hugged me and said, "Go win."

It happened that there was a large boulder right by where we were standing. My opponent and I kneeled down in the dirt, one of us on each side of the boulder. She explained the professional arm wrestling position and rules to me.

My girlfriend said, "Ready, set go!"

My opponent was very strong. My arm was in pain, but somehow I was managing to keep it standing up straight. The pain was getting stronger and I was sweating from the exertion. Her arm wasn’t going backwards. It seemed like we would go on this way forever.

I could hear the crowd of girls cheering all around me, ’They are cheering for me!’ I thought. I looked in my opponents eyes, and I thought I saw fear in there as I said to myself, ‘I believe Lord.’

All of a sudden, I had a burst of physical strength that I had never experienced before in my entire life! Her arm went down a little, then a little more, then all the rest of the way down at once! I had won!

Our hands separated and I stood up. My girlfriend hugged me, then we walked away together with smiles on our faces and joy in our hearts. No words were necessary. The crowd of girls all walked away chattering in groups of two and three. But my opponent remained there by that rock, alone on her knees, silently. For how long I do not know.

None of the girls spoke about the argument or the arm wrestling match during the days that completed our week at camp. One girl in particular was very quiet and even nice to other people for a change. I don’t know what her thoughts were while she stayed on her knees all alone by that boulder that day, but I hope she asked God our father and Jesus our Savior for forgiveness. I hope that day changed her life for the better for the rest of her days. I know it did for me and my girlfriend.

At Christmas we remember God

"At Christmas we remember God’s greatest gift to the World, His only begotten Son. Sadly multitudes will receive no gift this Christmas, but the greater tragedy

is in having nothing to give. Let us remember the words of our Lord, "It is more blessed to give than to receive".

The closing words of Pastor’s Christmas sermon struck a chord deep within my soul. Boy, had I been giving out this Christmas. There was the extra Christmas cake for Mrs. G. The stroke had left her paralyzed, and baking was out of the question for her. Then there was the Christmas cake for newly widowed Mr. B. The look on his face when he unwrapped the parcel. I smiled inwardly… Oceans of shortbread endless heaps of rocky road, and truffles, tied up with cellophane and ribbon. My brow creased in concentration. No….no I hadn’t forgotten a single family in the Church. And I’d put my whole heart into the Christmas Shoebox appeal. Last, but not least yet another mission jumble sale, and thankfully we had exceeded our target yet again! What a busy time it had been – but well worth the effort. I shut my eyes and began to bask in a warm glow of self – satisfaction.

Without warning the memory of a rather forlorn figure sitting on a suitcase appeared before my eyes.
On one side were two overstuffed laundry bags, and standing at her other side were two small children. The memory did not fade and I began to feel uncomfortable.

I began to excuse myself ... after all there was no chance of stopping, I was in traffic.
My small children were in the car too, they needed my attention right now.
Maybe she was just going on a trip, and didn’t need help
Anyhow taking in the homeless was not my ministry.
It was no use. I slid to my knees, groaning.
" O God, I’m sorry I was too busy doing stuff for you, to be directed by you. Help me be more sensitive, and somehow bless that lady, Amen"

Two small hands clasping mine interrupted my reverie.
"Come on Mummy they’re starting to give out the Sunday school prizes. We don’t want to miss out". I nodded my head in agreement.
"Please hurry Mummy!"
My pace quickened as we headed toward the Church hall . Two figures were leaving the hall and heading my way. One was the Pastor’s wife, the other a shabbily dressed lady I didn’t recognize.
"Ann, I’d like you to meet Laurie. She’s visiting with us for a few days over Christmas. Her kids are about the same age as yours. They might like to sit together in the hall."
I glanced at the children, and then back at their mother. Could it be? Surely this was the lady I’d seen!
" And the greatest thing has happened Ann, Laurie has just received Jesus as her Lord and Saviour, praise the Lord! There’s always room in God’s heart for one more in the family." My eyes started to brim over with tears.
"That’s the best news I’ve heard this Christmas. Welcome to God’s family Laurie!"
"Thank you" she whispered and a shy smile eased worry lines that appeared too early on her thin face.
A loud "Come on Mum " from the door startled us.
"Oops we’d better go in."

My heart filled with happiness and gratitude to a Saviour who answers every prayer, and meets the needs of all his kids.

May we all have the eyes of our heart opened this Christmas to meet the needs He entrusts as with. We all have so much to give with Christ in our hearts.

Julie Shapland
DiggerWellBooks.com

My Son's Manger

With Christmas on its way and the stores filled with Christmas trees, Santa Clauses and reindeer, I wanted to make sure the true meaning of Christmas, the birth of our Savior, was alive in the heart of my son. When you are 4 years old (going to be 5 on Thanksgiving day) all the tinsel and toys are hard to ignore.

I have to face the fact that I enjoy

buying the presents, wrapping the present and the thrill of his heart and smile on his face when he opens all the presents. Even so, with out the birth of Christ and the 3 wise men bearing gifts, the tradition of giving presents at Christmas would not even exist.

So... every time I take my son to a store, I hunt out a manger. It doesn't matter if it's collectible figurines a big blow up one for the yard or a story book, just so long as I point one out. He needs to see that the story of the birth of Christ is alive in the world today. Then I tell him a little of the Biblical story.

I was so thrilled this morning to find out that my efforts have paid off! My son brought me a yellow, triangular figure he made of plastic connecting building blocks and said, "Look Mommy! I made a manger."