When I was in sixth grade in Springtown, Texas, I memorized this poem for the class “Friday talent show.” For years, my father used the small card it was printed on as a bookmark It was given him by an insurance agent.
Wouldn’t this old world be better
If the folks we meet would say,
“I know something good about you.”
And then treat us just that way?
Wouldn’t your life be sweeter
If each handshake, tried and true,
Held with it this assurance
“I know something good about you.”
--Anonymoous
Friday, April 20, 2007
Wednesday, April 11, 2007
A story Crying to be heard....
When I opened the Internet (http://www.wyattjourney.com/) this morning (April 11, 2007), there was a familiar sight punching me in the arm to share this one. The pictures were of racers running in Juneau. The race in my memory was called the "Governor's Cup Race." As I recall, it began in the street in front of the Capitol Building and ended near the hospital. The two main characters of this tale are the Web Master himself and me, his mother.
Geoffrey must have been about 5 years old when he heard there was going to be a race. He really wanted to run that 5K foot race. (Actually, I think we opted for the shortened 3K version.) However, he was afraid to try it alone. It did not matter at all to him whose body would stick with him so long as it was family. Where his brother or sister would be, I do not recall; they may have even run the race but declared their disdain for being encumbered by "him."
The morning of the race came, and we were there plenty early to collect our tee shirts and find a place in the crowd of runners. Of course there were serious runners -- properly attired, stretching, warming up. As more and more racers joined, Geoffrey and I moved further back. Then the officials stood on the steps of the Capitol and explained the route and rules. At this time, Geoffrey was inching us a little forward, to the back of center.
Ready...aim...fire. We were off. "I always thought the Capitol was at the crest of this hill. This is no time to realize there is quite a climb just from there to the Governor's mansion." About the time I spotted the familiar white columns (about one-half a block from the starting line), I realized I had lost sight of my little boy. "I must force myself to run no matter how it hurts..poor Geoffrey; he must be frantic." About the time the course wound around the neighborhood ABOVE the cemetery, my side began to ache. Never mind that I had been walking the greater majority since rounding the corner by the city library, which was the building just across the street from the Capitol. By this time, I was "running the race" (I do use that term loosely) completely alone.
By now, the main thing was to "Stay the course and hope Geoffrey was not too frightened. " Eventually, I remember seeing the long downhill stretch to the finish line, where a few stragglers from the real race awaited the arrival of us late comers. John walked up to meet me and to encourage me to pick up my feet and run the last little bit. As I recall, my name and age and race time were published in the Juneau Empire followed by three or four other names.
And Geoffrey? Well, he was waiting at the finish line to cheer me on. I see by this morning's photo that he still is talking unsuspecting women into running with him. For those curious if I went out and bought the wardrobe and exercised and got in shape for the next year, the answer is "No." I went back to baking chocolate chip cookies and being roommother, but I never ran another race.
.....and I wore that tee shirt for years, with pride.
Geoffrey must have been about 5 years old when he heard there was going to be a race. He really wanted to run that 5K foot race. (Actually, I think we opted for the shortened 3K version.) However, he was afraid to try it alone. It did not matter at all to him whose body would stick with him so long as it was family. Where his brother or sister would be, I do not recall; they may have even run the race but declared their disdain for being encumbered by "him."
The morning of the race came, and we were there plenty early to collect our tee shirts and find a place in the crowd of runners. Of course there were serious runners -- properly attired, stretching, warming up. As more and more racers joined, Geoffrey and I moved further back. Then the officials stood on the steps of the Capitol and explained the route and rules. At this time, Geoffrey was inching us a little forward, to the back of center.
Ready...aim...fire. We were off. "I always thought the Capitol was at the crest of this hill. This is no time to realize there is quite a climb just from there to the Governor's mansion." About the time I spotted the familiar white columns (about one-half a block from the starting line), I realized I had lost sight of my little boy. "I must force myself to run no matter how it hurts..poor Geoffrey; he must be frantic." About the time the course wound around the neighborhood ABOVE the cemetery, my side began to ache. Never mind that I had been walking the greater majority since rounding the corner by the city library, which was the building just across the street from the Capitol. By this time, I was "running the race" (I do use that term loosely) completely alone.
By now, the main thing was to "Stay the course and hope Geoffrey was not too frightened. " Eventually, I remember seeing the long downhill stretch to the finish line, where a few stragglers from the real race awaited the arrival of us late comers. John walked up to meet me and to encourage me to pick up my feet and run the last little bit. As I recall, my name and age and race time were published in the Juneau Empire followed by three or four other names.
And Geoffrey? Well, he was waiting at the finish line to cheer me on. I see by this morning's photo that he still is talking unsuspecting women into running with him. For those curious if I went out and bought the wardrobe and exercised and got in shape for the next year, the answer is "No." I went back to baking chocolate chip cookies and being roommother, but I never ran another race.
.....and I wore that tee shirt for years, with pride.
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
HEROES
All day long I have been thinking about people I consider my heroes, and then John goes and writes a wonderful tribute to one of his heroes, Johnny Hart. My heroes have no fame nor even the desire to be recognized for anything besides being faithful.
FAYE became my hero the first time I walked into her lovely “Country Gentleman” home. I had not taken two steps inside her front door before she said, “Don’t touch the dust. I’m collecting.” She is a craftsman of pithy sayings.
IRENE became my hero when she demonstrated her “green toe.” Anyone visiting her home did not leave without adopting at least one plant and an armful of vegetables from her perfectly groomed garden. When showing us a 40-foot tree that just suddenly appeared in her yard, I told her I would appreciate knowing her secret soil formula and any hints on planting.
She found a seed in her lean-to greenhouse and brought it outside where I stood and said, “Watch this.” Without even bending, she scuffed the grassy area with the big toe of her well-worn oxford. When there was a patch of dirt about 4 inches square, she dropped the seed on the ground, kicked it into the bare spot, and maneuvered with her foot what little loose dirt was available, tapping it lightly with the ball of her foot. Then she looked up into my eyes, and with that permanent smile of hers said, “That’s all there is to it.” And, you know? I think she believes that.
GERALDINE is a painter..an artist kind of painter. She did not know she had the skill until someone talked her into trying it. ERMA is a quilter beyond belief. Her stitches are so perfect that the first thing I saw quilted by her, I really thought she had cheated by using a sewing machine.
My list could go forever. My talent? Don’t you ever forget this. My talent is appreciating others' talents. Don’t kid yourself; that is a very good talent to have.
FAYE became my hero the first time I walked into her lovely “Country Gentleman” home. I had not taken two steps inside her front door before she said, “Don’t touch the dust. I’m collecting.” She is a craftsman of pithy sayings.
IRENE became my hero when she demonstrated her “green toe.” Anyone visiting her home did not leave without adopting at least one plant and an armful of vegetables from her perfectly groomed garden. When showing us a 40-foot tree that just suddenly appeared in her yard, I told her I would appreciate knowing her secret soil formula and any hints on planting.
She found a seed in her lean-to greenhouse and brought it outside where I stood and said, “Watch this.” Without even bending, she scuffed the grassy area with the big toe of her well-worn oxford. When there was a patch of dirt about 4 inches square, she dropped the seed on the ground, kicked it into the bare spot, and maneuvered with her foot what little loose dirt was available, tapping it lightly with the ball of her foot. Then she looked up into my eyes, and with that permanent smile of hers said, “That’s all there is to it.” And, you know? I think she believes that.
GERALDINE is a painter..an artist kind of painter. She did not know she had the skill until someone talked her into trying it. ERMA is a quilter beyond belief. Her stitches are so perfect that the first thing I saw quilted by her, I really thought she had cheated by using a sewing machine.
My list could go forever. My talent? Don’t you ever forget this. My talent is appreciating others' talents. Don’t kid yourself; that is a very good talent to have.
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
GETTING TO KNOW YOU
For many years, my hubby and I have had a standard rule for visitors to our home. "The first day of your visit, we treat you like guests. After that, you are family." Generally, that means we show you where the eating utensils and extra blankets are kept, and if you need a cup of coffee or bowl of cereal, you are on your own.
But this week, we had to adjust the rule just a tad. When Dana walked in the front door, she was welcomed as "family" even though the wedding is still in the planning stages. The granddaughters are puzzled whether to call her Aunt Dana or Miss Dana or Hey You. They settled on Miss Dana though I have yet to hear anyone actually use her name when addresing her. Whatever name she is tagged with, she has fit into all facets of our life.
Patty and I are especially thankful that she loves the kitchen, for cooking and for cleaning. Dana is a preschool, special-needs teacher. One of the younger future nieces has shadowed her a lot this week...and this shadow is silent. Embarrassed, scared, unsure, fascinated and curious about this new relation, she approaches Dana with her head bowed but her eyes following. She tries to keep both future groom and future bride in site at all times.
It has been a special time, and we are, as always, impressed with Geoffrey's decision. She fit in very well, meeting our family and friends. She holds her own when being singled out as the brunt of the joke and when playing board games. Best of all, she loves the Lord and Juneau and Geoffrey. Maybe not in that order.
But this week, we had to adjust the rule just a tad. When Dana walked in the front door, she was welcomed as "family" even though the wedding is still in the planning stages. The granddaughters are puzzled whether to call her Aunt Dana or Miss Dana or Hey You. They settled on Miss Dana though I have yet to hear anyone actually use her name when addresing her. Whatever name she is tagged with, she has fit into all facets of our life.
Patty and I are especially thankful that she loves the kitchen, for cooking and for cleaning. Dana is a preschool, special-needs teacher. One of the younger future nieces has shadowed her a lot this week...and this shadow is silent. Embarrassed, scared, unsure, fascinated and curious about this new relation, she approaches Dana with her head bowed but her eyes following. She tries to keep both future groom and future bride in site at all times.
It has been a special time, and we are, as always, impressed with Geoffrey's decision. She fit in very well, meeting our family and friends. She holds her own when being singled out as the brunt of the joke and when playing board games. Best of all, she loves the Lord and Juneau and Geoffrey. Maybe not in that order.
Saturday, March 17, 2007
Wonderin'
When I am reading the Bible or listening to it being read, there is one passage of scripture that makes me hold my breath and to think, "If I could be anyone in God's Word, this is the character I would want to be."
I wonder if others feel this way. I wonder whom others might choose. I know that some believe they know the name of my chosen woman. Many things have been said about the person they would name. Mostly, what one reads about her are completely fictional. In truth, as far as I know, there is only one encounter between this woman and Jesus Christ, and she is nameless.
Ah-h-h, but what an encounter! Jesus had accepted an invitation to eat in the house of a Pharisee; and when He entered the house, the host did not do Him the courtesy of washing His feet. But a woman, hearing of the visitor, entered the house of the Pharisee. When she came near Jesus, she dropped to her knees, crying.
Why was she crying? Why would I be crying? Coming in contact with God in flesh, knowing my shortcomings, knowing that He knows me. Not simply that He knows my name but He knows all about me; and loves me just the same. He cares.
Her tears flowed from her broken, penitent heart. They were not wasted. She used them to wash the accumulation of dust and dirt on His feet from His journeys. And she dried the briney liquid with her long hair. All the time she was wetting His feet with her tears, she was kissing them. What humility of spirit that would require. Finally, she used her perfume to anoint His feet.
At the start of this blog, I stated, "She was nameless." However, there is a descriptive word...an adjective....telling the reader much about her. That word is sinner. Jesus speaks to her twice, saying, "Your sins have been forgiven." and "Your faith has saved you; go in peace."
The Bible does not tell us anything more about that woman, but I can fully imagine that she left His presence IN PEACE. A good cry can feel so cleansing, and knowing one's wrong doings are forgiven....well, life just can't get any better!
Luke 7:36-50
I wonder if others feel this way. I wonder whom others might choose. I know that some believe they know the name of my chosen woman. Many things have been said about the person they would name. Mostly, what one reads about her are completely fictional. In truth, as far as I know, there is only one encounter between this woman and Jesus Christ, and she is nameless.
Ah-h-h, but what an encounter! Jesus had accepted an invitation to eat in the house of a Pharisee; and when He entered the house, the host did not do Him the courtesy of washing His feet. But a woman, hearing of the visitor, entered the house of the Pharisee. When she came near Jesus, she dropped to her knees, crying.
Why was she crying? Why would I be crying? Coming in contact with God in flesh, knowing my shortcomings, knowing that He knows me. Not simply that He knows my name but He knows all about me; and loves me just the same. He cares.
Her tears flowed from her broken, penitent heart. They were not wasted. She used them to wash the accumulation of dust and dirt on His feet from His journeys. And she dried the briney liquid with her long hair. All the time she was wetting His feet with her tears, she was kissing them. What humility of spirit that would require. Finally, she used her perfume to anoint His feet.
At the start of this blog, I stated, "She was nameless." However, there is a descriptive word...an adjective....telling the reader much about her. That word is sinner. Jesus speaks to her twice, saying, "Your sins have been forgiven." and "Your faith has saved you; go in peace."
The Bible does not tell us anything more about that woman, but I can fully imagine that she left His presence IN PEACE. A good cry can feel so cleansing, and knowing one's wrong doings are forgiven....well, life just can't get any better!
Luke 7:36-50
Sunday, March 11, 2007
remembrance
This is one of my favorite lessons from Togo, West Africa.
There was a young African man named John. He was a young christian from a nearby village who would come weekly to sit for hours on the missionary's front porch and talk about the Bible and its teachings. John was the owner of only one shirt which he wore with great pride. It was a brilliant yellow, tattered, polyester, maternity top. Every time the young missionary saw John in that shirt, he would try to think of a way to convince John to somehow replace it.
Finally, he came upon the perfect plan. He taught a series of lessons about giving, especially to help those less fortunate than oneself. He stressed how our giving is from the heart and certainly does not necessarily mean that we give money. And, when he felt the subject was exhausted, he declared a "giving Sunday."
Giving Sunday seemed to go well. In the collection basket were some dried beans, a pineapple, a sack containing sugar, a slightly cracked bowl, and a live chicken as well as a size large tee shirt. On Tuesday, John showed up for his usual visit, still wearing the holey maternity top.
When asked, "Did you not see the new shirt?" John's reply was quick and sincere, "Yes, and I made certain that it went to the poor."
There was a young African man named John. He was a young christian from a nearby village who would come weekly to sit for hours on the missionary's front porch and talk about the Bible and its teachings. John was the owner of only one shirt which he wore with great pride. It was a brilliant yellow, tattered, polyester, maternity top. Every time the young missionary saw John in that shirt, he would try to think of a way to convince John to somehow replace it.
Finally, he came upon the perfect plan. He taught a series of lessons about giving, especially to help those less fortunate than oneself. He stressed how our giving is from the heart and certainly does not necessarily mean that we give money. And, when he felt the subject was exhausted, he declared a "giving Sunday."
Giving Sunday seemed to go well. In the collection basket were some dried beans, a pineapple, a sack containing sugar, a slightly cracked bowl, and a live chicken as well as a size large tee shirt. On Tuesday, John showed up for his usual visit, still wearing the holey maternity top.
When asked, "Did you not see the new shirt?" John's reply was quick and sincere, "Yes, and I made certain that it went to the poor."
Friday, March 2, 2007
THANKFULNESS
Ten things, in random order, that are great about e-mail:
#10 An occasional shared smile.
#9 Hearing from people I thought were gone from my life (example - high school buddy).
#8 Meeting new people (example - son's future mother -in-law).
#7 Daily Scripture ( example - First thing I see each day is scripture from Coach Fields).
#6 Keeping up on news.
#5 Salutations - One does not have to waste effort deciding on an appropriate ending of an email message such as"love" or "yours truly" or "sincerely."
#4 Making and breaking appointments.
#3 Keeping in touch with folks other than holidays.
#2 Keeping others informed of goings on and staying informed, too.
#1 Instantly learning travellers have arrived safely.
#10 An occasional shared smile.
#9 Hearing from people I thought were gone from my life (example - high school buddy).
#8 Meeting new people (example - son's future mother -in-law).
#7 Daily Scripture ( example - First thing I see each day is scripture from Coach Fields).
#6 Keeping up on news.
#5 Salutations - One does not have to waste effort deciding on an appropriate ending of an email message such as"love" or "yours truly" or "sincerely."
#4 Making and breaking appointments.
#3 Keeping in touch with folks other than holidays.
#2 Keeping others informed of goings on and staying informed, too.
#1 Instantly learning travellers have arrived safely.
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