Who Have I in Heaven But You!

My heart is breaking this morning for the people who are suffering through devastating tornadoes here in the U.S. I’m grieved especially for the little children who were caught while still in school. Some made it out with a few cuts and bruises, but they are still looking for others. My heart and prayers go out to the families and to everyone touched by the destruction of these tornadoes. And especially for those families who have lost little children.

There are more tornadoes forecast for today. Please agree with me in prayer that if they do touch down it will happen over unpopulated areas and not over towns or suburbs. 

Psalm 73:23-26

Yet I am always with you;
    you hold me by my right hand.
You guide me with your counsel,
    and afterward you will take me into glory.
Whom have I in heaven but you?
    And earth has nothing I desire besides you.
My flesh and my heart may fail,
    but God is the strength of my heart
    and my portion forever.

PS I’m posting this video as an encouragement for all so please ignore the words at the end of this video. I cannot remove them or I would. Be encourage the earth is the Lord’s and everyone/thing in it.

Somehow It Works

How creative! 

Children’s Book Week

It’s Children’s Book week this week. And I thought what better way to celebrate than to share our favorite Children’s Books. I would love for you to share your favorite Children’s Books in the comments section of this post.  Please note there seems to be a huge space between the last two paragraphs on this post. I’ve tried to fix it but nothing’s working. So, you may need to scroll down a bit to get to the happy ending.

 

At the top of my list (forever) is Linda Smith and Marla Frazee’s Mrs. Biddlebox HER BAD DAY… and WHAT SHE DID ABOUT IT! When I opened this beautiful book the first illustration made me cry. Mrs. Biddlebox is in bed in a funk. It reminded me of my mother and how her days are all funks. In this little story at least Mrs. Biddlebox has the power to change her horrible day.

This is the story of a woman who wakes-up, as we sometimes do, on the wrong side of the bed. She is in a terrible funk. Now, whether it is because she lives on a grubby little hill or the birdies were giving her a headache or because she has a belly full of grumblies and her crumpets are hard to chew is never revealed. Because right in the middle of her serious funk Mrs. Biddlebox has a brilliant idea! She says,

I will cook this rotten morning!

I will turn it into cake!

I will fire up my oven!

I will set this day to bake!

And so she gets busy with her pot and broom, trompes out to morning to gather up the gloom. She snatches up a patch of grubby lawn, scuffles with the dirt, plucks a filthy shadow from the folds of her old skirt. (they hide there don’tcha know)

When the fog gives her the whiffles, she stabs the dreary lot with her broomstick and twirls it like spaghetti! She hooks a ray of sun, rolls up the darkened sky and adds them to the pot. Now the pot was overflowing with that despicable bad day.

She whips, whisks, and beats it, she rolls it out flat, she laughs gleefully as her hands go, pat-pat-pat. When the finished dough rises fat and light she stomps it into a tin with witchery delight.

And this is when her bad day begins to turn around. Her day is baking merrily, oh the spicy heat! Mrs. Biddlebox just can’t deny it’s turning out quite sweet!

She pours a cup of lovely tea

She set a pretty plate

She cut a merry slice of cake

and ate…

and ATE…

and ATE!

Now with her belly full of crumblies  she pulls her night-cap tight throws the door wide open and welcomes in the night. On her grubby little hill, in her cozy little heap, Mrs. Biddlebox rolls over, closes her eyes and goes to sleep.

  

The happy ending.

This is the autograph Marla drew for me on my copy of Mrs. Biddlebox. I met her at an SCBWI conference in Los Angeles a few years ago. As we were talking I didn’t notice she was drawing. But was delighted beyond words at what she’d drew.                                   

Isn’t that cute!

The positive message in this beautiful story will empower its little readers to know that even though they may be having a bad day, they CAN do something about it. (WordPress is acting really WEIRD today!)

Notes To Self: Go And Do Likewise.

My old church was a very exciting place. We openly talked and interpreted unknown tongues, laid hands on the sick, and saw miracles, cast out demons, and saw deliverance, prophesied to the masses, to thunderous applause, danced in the Spirit until joy knocked us out, laughed in the spirit until we fell down, (and even then we couldn’t stop laughing.) We wept and wailed in the Spirit until exhaustion brought a comatose-like sleep. We gave messages of blessings from God, we tithed, and gave as the Spirit led, but what did we accomplish? From what I remember, not very much. 

As I was driving to town yesterday the thought came to me, it was all about the gifts and experiences instead of the lost and hurting. When did the gospel go from being the message of salvation to the message of gifts and blessings for me? Where did all that start? When did our purpose change from seeking to save the lost to seeking spiritual manifestations and personal riches?  

The gospel message is and always has been that God gave His One and Only Son that whosoever believes in Him shall not perish, but shall have everlasting life. Whenever we stray from that message, whether it be the promise of: heaven on earth, manifold financial blessings, spiritual power, spiritual position, or any other fantastic manifestations, we compromise that message.

John nor Jesus called in the wilderness, “Come see the fire! Come feel the Spirit! Come and grow rich! No, they both had one message and as much as I hate to spoil anyone’s day, that message was and still is, “Repent! for the kingdom of God is near!” We need to get back to that message. I need to get back to that message! 

I will be the first to admit I have a real problem sharing that message. It’s not easy to say to another, repent! Because we are essentially saying, you are a sinner! That’s not a nice thing to say or hear. On top of that we think, who am I to be telling another what they need? I’m just as much a sinner as they. In fact, I’m probably a worse sinner because I already got saved, but still sin. It is all these, buts, that keep us from sharing the love of God. And that is the message, LOVE — not judgement.

Our motivation to seek the lost should be nothing but LOVE because God is LOVE. If we are motivated by the love of God for the salvation of our neighbor, the stranger, or the family member we will not be offensive in our message. If we allow Him the place in our heart, mind, manners, and tongue we will not offend. For the lost will see and hear Him. They will feel the burning presence of God in their heart and be compelled. Except of course for those who believe the message is foolishness. They will always be offended no matter how the gospel is shared.

We do not need to put on shows or threaten eternal damnation to draw people to Christ. All we need do is love them. Just as He loved us.

In 2nd Corinthians chapter five it says:

14 For Christ’s love compels us…

18  All this is from God, who reconciled us to himself through Christ and gave us the ministry of reconciliation: 

19  that God was reconciling the world to himself in Christ, not counting people’s sins against them. And he has committed to us the message of reconciliation. 

20  We are therefore Christ’s ambassadors, as though God were making his appeal through us. We implore you on Christ’s behalf: Be reconciled to God. 

21  God made him who had no sin to be sin for us, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God.

Our purpose is simply to reconcile people to God. And as ambassadors of Christ it is as though God Himself were appealing through us. Would God need to put on a show to bait the lost? I don’t think so. He simply said, “You must be born again. You must be reconciled.”

The miracles, signs and wonders that went before and that followed Jesus were manifestations of pure love — nothing else. He didn’t need ten percent of your gross, nor special offerings to build Himself a lovely sanctuary, nor a pure-bred stallion to cart Him around, nor a twenty piece orchestra to usher Him in. Instead He said, “I have nowhere to rest my head,” meaning He had no earthly possessions. He even borrowed a donkey! This is our example.

Luke 10:25-37

The Parable of the Good Samaritan

On one occasion an expert in the law stood up to test Jesus. “Teacher,” he asked, “what must I do to inherit eternal life?”

“What is written in the Law?” he replied. “How do you read it?”

He answered, “‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind’; and, ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.

“You have answered correctly,” Jesus replied. “Do this and you will live.”

But he wanted to justify himself, so he asked Jesus, “And who is my neighbor?”

In reply Jesus said: “A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, when he was attacked by robbers. They stripped him of his clothes, beat him and went away, leaving him half dead. A priest happened to be going down the same road, and when he saw the man, he passed by on the other side. So too, a Levite, when he came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side. But a Samaritan, as he traveled, came where the man was; and when he saw him, he took pity on him. He went to him and bandaged his wounds, pouring on oil and wine. Then he put the man on his own donkey, brought him to an inn and took care of him. The next day he took out two denarii and gave them to the innkeeper. ‘Look after him,’ he said, ‘and when I return, I will reimburse you for any extra expense you may have.’

“Which of these three do you think was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of robbers?”

The expert in the law replied, “The one who had mercy on him.”

Jesus told him, “Go and do likewise.”  (NIV)

Can I go and do likewise? I don’t know, but I’m willing to give it a try. 

 

My Mother’s day Gifts

Hubby bought me a whole bunch of art supplies for Mother’s day. I got oil paints and canvases, brushes, and easels, in short I got the ‘mother-load!’ Haha, I can’t remember being so excited, although the day I first laid eyes on my beautiful boy was pretty special too. Anyhoo, in preparation for getting to the serious oil works I got out some watercolor paints that’d been kicking about in a drawer and started mixing and,  This is the result:

As you can see it is pretty dull, but once I give it a spray of varnish I’m hoping it’ll look much better. I know, who knew I had such amazing skills! LOL. I had so much fun doing this and it only took about 30 minutes to paint. Hubby got up this morning and saw it on the kitchen countertop. He thought, wow, that’s a beautiful painting! He picked it up to see who did it and was flabbergasted to see it was signed by me! Haha! I’m an ARrrrrrrTEEST!  

Happy Mother’s Day!

Happy Mother’s day to all the wonderful mothers out there.

I hope it is a day of sunshine, joy, and love. Please pour yourself some tea and help yourself to some of the freshly baked goodies. Y’all sure deserve some. 

My Poor Mammy (And Whoo-Hoo! This is my 500th Post!)

I’ve been mulling this week on my earliest memories of my mother? One of my most vivid is when I was five years old and she was taking me to my first day of school. We walked in the cold, dark, rain for four city blocks. As I walked beside her, holding fast to the big pram that held my younger siblings, and trying to keep up, I felt put-out and anxious. Because even though I had two older sisters, I had no understanding of what starting school actually meant. I was still sleepy and couldn’t understand why we were out before daytime.

The front of the school building was on Admiral Street with the back on Stanley Street. We walked along the main road with all the other mother’s and children, and turned right onto Admiral Street. I was freezing cold and shivering. My mother handed me to a man standing at the front gate of the school and turned to walk away and leave me. I started bawling, LOUDLY! and ran after her shouting, “Mammy! Mammy!” She turned, pram and all, grabbed me by the hand, and marched me right back.

Three times I slipped out of the grasp of the teacher and ran screaming in floods of tears down the street after my Mammy. Three times she had to drag me, kicking and fighting, back to school. They’d put me in one gate, lead me through the corridor by my wrist, I’d spot another gate, and break for that. I remember I came out on the Stanley street exit and the janitor catching me and taking me back to my mother. She was so upset because she’d left the pram at the school gate to come chasing after me. It’s a wonder I didn’t get a good skelping. Poor soul was probably too worn-out. Ha-ha.

What about you, do you have any early memories of your mother that you’d like to share?