$10,000 PYRAMID

The title of this blog tells my age.  I think it is now the $100,000 Pyramid.

Our Sunday School class is studying the Book of Esther.  If you like a good mystery, this is the book for you.  Who done it?  Secrets!  Lies and hate.  This book has it all.  How will it end?  Will the good Queen save the day?

We were ready to begin chapter four.  The lesson was prepared.  I had answered the questions and had thrown in a few extra.  Hey, I don’t want the class to be too easy.  Hubby and I were headed to church when, WHAM!  An idea on how to start the class:  A game show.  It is a good thing I was not driving.  I would have had to pull over.  When an idea hits ……

Using the $10,000 or $100,000 Pyramid as the game show of choice, I started hitting the keys.  The category:  THINGS THEY THINK.

I hate the Jews

I hate Mordecai

The King has no idea

This ring gives me power

(Answer 1)

I didn’t think he would go this far

He is evil

Should I have bowed

This is my fault

Will Esther help

(Answer 2)

Is this why I never told the king I was Jewish

Mordecai is asking a lot

Is this why I am the Queen

If I die, I die

(Answer 3)

You looked on down to the answers didn’t you?  Anyway, it was a fun way to start and generated a discussion on what would they have been thinking and feeling.

The Book of Esther is named after , duh, Esther.  A young, beautiful orphan.  Orphan… that immediately tells you she has suffered the loss of her parents and we learned she was raised by her cousin, Mordecai.  After Queen Vashti disappeared from the scene, the king got a bit lonely.  He wanted a Queen, so a search was made for a replacement.  There was no long list of qualifications.  The candidate had to be beautiful and a virgin.  Young Esther fit the bill and was taken to the palace.  That gives you the cliff notes for how the book begins.  You can read to find out the rest of the story.

The point of this week’s blog is that Esther had no idea what was going to happen.  Would she become queen?  Why had Mordecai told her not to tell anyone that she was Jewish?  And why was Haman so hateful?  Esther had no idea, but she trusted Mordecai and took his advice.  

She trusted.  Part of the class discussion has been on who to trust and why do we trust them?  Is it their reputation for honesty?  Is it a person we respect?  If so, why do we respect that person?  If you are in need of advice, where do you turn?  To the town gossip?  To someone who will hold your conversation private?  Do you take their advice?

The Book of Esther is a mystery with turns and twists in the plot.  BUT it is also a story of trust.  It is a short book.  Won’t take you long and it is so much more than the story of a beautiful queen which you heard in Sunday School all those years ago.  

ANSWERS:

1 — THINGS HAMAN THINKS

2 — THINGS MORDECAI THINKS

3 — THINGS ESTHER THINKS

 SUMMER

 And God said, “Let there be lights in the expanse of the sky to separate the day from the night, and let them serve as signs to mark seasons and days and years, and let them be lights in the expanse of the sky to give light on the earth.”  And it was so.  

     Genesis 1:14-15

Are there words that make images pop into your mind?  Summer does that for me.  I remember  --- School’s out and summer begins.  We were free!!  Free to wonder around town.  We either walked or rode our bikes. 

The school yard (where I went the first four years) was only one block away.  There was a baseball diamond, of sorts, and we played pickup games.  I never was a good pitcher, but I could whack a ball.  As a matter of fact, I hit one that went through one of the school windows.  That was the end of playing ball there.

The swimming pool was 23 blocks away.  Yes, it was!  I looked up my home town and counted the blocks.  Usually there was my sister(s), neighbor kids, and me, walking barefoot and carrying our towel, 23 blocks to go to the pool.  It was a really unique pool and to swim cost a whopping 25¢.  It sure did cool us down.  Until we had to walk those 23 blocks back home.

My dad thought I would never learn to ride a bike, but I did finally get rid of the training wheels.  Once that happened, every corner of town was fair game.  We would ride across town to play Monopoly.  Or to sit under a tree and talk.  Or swoon over the latest movie star. 

My mother figured a way to enjoy her summer.  There were four of us kids and I do not think we were ever home at the same time.  We rotated spending a week with grandma and then started through the aunts and uncles.  By the time we returned home, mom would ship us off to see grandma again. 

And that is where the best memories are from.  There was no telephone, except the one on the wall that rang longs and shorts and we were not allowed to use it.  It was a party line and grandma said she didn’t want us listening to those gossips.  There was no television, but we didn’t have one at home either, so that was no biggie.  There were the best sugar cookies ever and a toaster where you had to open the sides and turn the bread to toast the other side.  Strange.  There was a door that folded in the middle and a room we were never to enter.  Apparently, the room was over the cistern or something and if we fell through the floor we would drown and die.  Yes, every grandchild went in that room at some time or other.  It had really neat old stuff.

There was only one problem with going to grandma’s and various aunts and uncles.  They all had out-houses!  Enough said.

What image do I see today when I think of summer?  AIR CONDITIONING!!

 TIME

Time -  Time is such a precious gift.  How do we use our time and who is in control of our time?

Before I retired, my bosses were in control of much of my time.  I had no control of when auctions were scheduled.  I also worked for Bill.    Farm reports had to be done.  Appraisals had to be done.  I worked when my bosses told me to work.  

Family uses a big chunk of our time.  Being a spouse takes time.  We had two children and, believe me, they controlled a very large amount of my time.  For some unknown reason, they expected to be fed and taken care of:  baths, play time, nap time, little league games and band concerts.  Not to mention clean clothes.  And the  late night use of my time because, as I was tucking them in bed, they remembered they needed cookies for school the next day.  

Often, others control so much of our time, there is no time left for ourselves.  Time that is required — work and family — devours the seconds, minutes, and hours of our day until the only time we have to read is while we are waiting for band practice to get out.

Time -  Time is such a precious gift.  How do we use our time and who is in control of our time?

Yes, work consumes our time.  That is not a bad thing unless it robs us of time for family.

Yes, family consumes our time.  That is not a bad thing unless it robs us of time for friends.

Yes, friends consume our time.  That is not a bad thing unless it robs us of time to help others by volunteering.

Yes, volunteering consumes our time.  That is not a bad thing unless it robs us of time to …..

This line of reasoning can go on and on but I hope it will get you to thinking about how you use your time.   Time is a precious gift.  Use it wisely.

PS. I did not forget to put in time for prayer and worship.  I hope you picked up on how easily our time slips away and we use the excuse, “I didn’t have time to read this week’s Sunday School lesson or attend worship service or help at VBS or even pray.  I didn’t have time for God.”  Time is precious.  Do you use it wisely?

 D-DAY

D-Day — 80 years later.  We watched parts of the D-Day service and other programs.  One survivor made the statement, “All were willing to stand up.  Not all came back.”  Another said, “I am not a hero.  I did my job.”

In my mind they were all heroes.  There are so many heroes during war.  There are the ones who step up, even if they were too young.  Survivors told about young men, who lied about their age, just to join the Army or the Navy….  They stood up.

Survivors told about the person who was first to step into the water.  They were often a part of those who did not come back.  They stood up.

Survivors … isn’t that a beautiful word?  Some of those survivors sat in front of 25 heads of state and 4,500 spectators.  Approximately 150-200 American survivors attended the ceremonies, while survivors, from other countries, attended ceremonies in different locations.  Survivors… isn’t that a beautiful word?

But many did not survive.  For those back home, the sight of military men walking toward their door, was the beginning of a journey they did not want to take.  But the parents, spouses, children, family, and friends stood up. They were also heroes.

Allied troops, on this day, stood up and turned the war around.  

They went on to defeat the hate and brutality of the Nazi army.  They fought.  Way too many died.  But isn’t the word survivors a beautiful word?

D-Day — 80 years ago — They stood up.  They are heroes.

Thank you and may I have even a small portion of the courage it took, on that day, to step into the water and face a very strong enemy.  I humbly say, “Thank you.”

 I LOVE

I love storms.  I am not naive.  I have seen the weather map.  Many places are having severe storms.  Hail the size of baseballs.  Tornadoes and too much rain.  I realize storms can be devastating and can change lives in an instant.  Those are not the storms I am talking about.  

I am talking about a good, ole summer storm.   One you can feel in your bones.  The air changes slowly.  You know it is time to bring the clothes in off the line.  (You have to be old to understand that activity.) Mothers call their kids home.  (This does not require the use of a phone.  Again, being over 64 helps you understand this concept.  This requires stepping out the back door and yelling, in full mother voice, “Get your butts home and get them home now.”)

Even when I was only knee high to a grasshopper, I loved storms.  It had to rain really hard for this one corner, on our porch, to get wet.  And that is where you would find me during a storm.  I would wrap up in a blanket, curl up in the corner, and listen to the thunder and watch the lightening.  And after the storm!   The world looked different.  The sky would be this amazing shade of blue.  The wet leaves looked a new shade of green.  Everything looked so clean.  The world even smelled different.  I love storms.

I love ice cream. I will eat the kind that comes in a box, but I love homemade ice cream.  One of my uncles made the best ice cream ever.  It helped that there was a cow close at hand (Pun!) to make a contribution to the cause.  Fresh eggs, vanilla, and sugar.  Pour into canister.  Add ice, salt and then crank.  The secret is in the salt and cranking.  There has to be enough salt to melt the ice and cranking was a true art form.  The professional (aka my uncle) knew the exact speed to turn the handle.  Too fast or too slow and the ice cream did not set up right.  Part of the experience is the anticipation.  When will it be done?  Can we eat it right away or do we have to wait?  Who gets to lick the paddle.  I love ice cream.

I love God.  I look around and see the poppies - red and orangish flowers, paper thin, that remind me of the poppies along our driveway when I was growing up.  I feel the gentle breeze and it is like a kiss from heaven and reminds me of a babies breath as they nap on my shoulder.  I feel the warmth of the sun and am reminded how wonderful a fireplace feels on a cold winter’s night.  I hear the ocean and am reminded of standing on a beach, taking deep breaths, and relaxing with each wave.  I have wiggled my toes in mud, grass, creeks, and, not on purpose, those brown clumps in the cow pasture.  (That is what I get for going barefoot.) And to think God gave me all of this.  How could I not love Him?

What do you love?  Storms?  Ice Cream?  Good books?  Traveling?  Quiet days at home?  

Now what really amazes me is that the world God spoke into existence has something special for each of us.  And isn’t that just something?  It means each one of us is so loved by God that he created summer storms for a little girl sitting in a corner of a porch.  He created flowers for the person with a love of roses, geraniums, and poppies.  He created the mountains to be climbed by those with a spirit of adventure.  

Now what really amazes me is that the world God spoke into existence has something special for each of us.  What did God create just for you?

 ORANGE BARRELS

A quick trip to see my sister — a short three and half hour drive.  Over the years, I have made this trip many times.  I know the way.  I know the roads.  I know how — I forgot.  It is construction season in Indiana.  Everyone thinks our state has four seasons.  Nope.  Only two.  Construction and too cold to work.

I made good time from our town to the next.  A quick 14 miles.  I picked up US 24 and there they were: Orange Barrels or the smaller Orange Cones or the even smaller Orange Sticks.  The Orange Barrels are large and easy to spot.  We have also been trained to see the Orange Cones.  They look like orange dunce hats.  I guess you have to be a dunce not to see them.  Then, to test the skill of drivers, small orange poles were placed down the middle of lanes.  Yes, Construction Season is a festival of orange.

Back to my quick three and half hour drive.  My hope of construction being in this one location was quickly dashed.  Construction areas never make sense.  Everyone was traveling along, missing every barrel, cone and post, when the end of construction sign appeared and all lanes were open…..  for about five miles.  Then construction began again.  I swear they do this on purpose.  Exactly when the construction traffic has broken up and everyone is happily obeying the speed limit (I put that in just in case a policeman/highway patrol is reading this.) ….  a new sign appears: Entering Construction Zone.  Once again, orange as far as the eye could see.

I think by now you get the idea and I finally did reach my destination— one hour and 15 minutes later than I should have.  What about coming home?  Believe it or not, one road I had been on, just 24 hours before, was now closed and a gazillion orange barrels had magically appeared on new stretches of roads.  So, if you are considering taking a family vacation to see our wonderful state, stay home, hike around your back yard, and, if you really want to have fun, find a spot along one of the roads and wave at the parade of drivers swearing and trying to avoid those orange things.

Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope.  And hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us.    Romans 5:3-5

Construction Season: For sure we need perseverance (to get through the construction zone) character (a test of how we behave while driving between the barrels), and hope (that the construction zone will end).

BUT isn’t that what our lives are like?  Ole Satan places obstructions throughout our lives.  They are not orange and they are not easy to see and those obstructions cause us to suffer.  It is only by the Glory of God that we have the character and hope to persevere.  Sooooo, be careful this summer when you are traveling in a construction zone and always be on the lookout for Satan’s invisible obstructions.

Have a great summer!

DISTRACTIONS

Now I am sure not a single one of you ever gets distracted.  I can picture you reading your devotional…focused…devouring every word.  I imagine you preparing for the Sunday School lesson.  You do not hear outside sounds because you are pondering the questions.  Your prayers are from your heart and not a single person on your prayer list is forgotten.

Well, ain’t you just special!  Well, really you are.  I envy you.  While you are reading and preparing and praying, I am … distracted.  I can be sooooo determined to do my devotional and I remember the mail will be coming shortly and if I don’t get the card addressed and get it into the mail box —- And I love to pray, but about half way through, I picture the meat for supper still in the freezer or that I need to pay a bill or the iPad beeps or —-

DISTRACTED! How do people do it?  And the worst is when I fall asleep.  I really want to say my bedtime prayers, but my eyes close, all on their own, and my breathing gets slower and I go to sleep.  What about morning prayers?  They have to wait until after a trip to the bathroom and by then I am awake and my body starts whispering “coffee…coffee…coffee.”

DISTRACTED — distracted except for one time.  I love preparing lessons for Sunday School.  I can read, underline, and make notes and never hear the drier beep.  I can google and search without stopping to look at Facebook or to reply to even one message.  I am focused! I am devouring every word! I find articles on the book we are studying and do a background check on the main characters.  I ponder what information will help us to better understand the lesson.  And I do not get sleepy.

Why can I spend hours preparing lessons and not make it through the day’s one page devotional?  Why are my eyes wide open when I study, but I need toothpicks to keep them open when I pray?

Well, when I pray, I am relaxed.  Talking to God seems to do that.  Somehow, I can begin a prayer angry or questioning or giving thanks or telling God my plan and, knowing he is listening, my body reacts.  My shoulders are lighter.  My breathing is calm.  And I go to sleep.

Often, and this is just me, a devotional cannot hold my attention.  Maybe it is too short.  Maybe it is too much like the one I read yesterday.  Maybe my mind sees a card laying on my desk and I remember I did not get it mailed and I might as well mail the card.

BUT studying to teach a lesson.  Finding a fun fact.  Finding the real reason Elimelek took his wife and sons to Moab.  (I often use Jewish websites when studying Old Testament books.).  This is what I love.  The research.  Coming up with questions the class will not expect.  Digging to find a way to make them see the story…the people…the impact on our lives today.  And that is why I do not hear the iPad ding nor the drier buzz nor Bill say my name.  It is what I love to do.

What do you love to do?  Do devotionals touch your soul?  Can you fall to your knees and offer endless prayers to God?  Can you send a song into the world?  Do you have a heart for children or can hear the concerns and fears of others and hold them in your confidence?  Do you enjoy giving the message at church?  What do you love to do and not be distracted?  My friend, the answer to that question is your calling.

 

I AM NOT THE SAME

We think it is the big things in life that changes us.  Really it is the small things.  A short conversation can touch your heart.

 

Video continues below.

 

INCOMPLETE

Watching TV makes me realize my life is ..  is so incomplete.  First, I am using the wrong pillows and the right pillows are on sale for a limited time.  I do believe that limited time ended over six months ago, but that is a small detail.  Besides, now I can also buy — on sale — sheets and towels.  (Sigh.)  My life would be complete if only I had those pillows, towels, and sheets.

But wait!  I no longer have to go grocery shopping.  All I have to do is make a list, check it twice, and send it on its way.  Those groceries will magically appear at my door.  Just like that!  (Big sigh)  My life would be complete if only we had a store close enough to deliver my groceries.

Plus, I never realized how many people are concerned about my health and sleeping habits.  A former governor of Arkansas and his wife know just how I can get more sleep:  Take a pill they happen to indorse.  Speaking of pills.  I no longer have to spend money on fruits and vegetables, because now they come ground up and put in convenient capsules.  My life would be complete if I would only take those pills.

Much to Bill’s dismay, I have occasionally gotten mud on my shoes before I entered the car.  That is a problem of the past, because now I can get an easy-to-clean floor liner.  Plus those times that we drip anything on the stove top are no longer a problem.  All I need is the model number, a quick call to the stove liner people, and a credit card.  Problem solved.  My life would be complete with liners to protect the car floor and the stove top.

(Deep sigh.).  Yes, there are so many things that would make my life complete.  All I need is ….  I think I discovered a flaw in this blog.  I do believe I am listening to the wrong source.  Pillow man.  Groceries that deliver themselves.  An ex-governor.  People in ads selling pills, floor liners, and stove top liners.  Not one of those people knows me.  Not one of them cares about me.  Not a single one.  So how do I make my life complete?

And my God will meet all your needs according to the riches of his glory in Christ Jesus. 

Philippians 4:19

(Light bulb moment)  Oh, I get it.  There is one who does care.  One who knows what I need.  One who will meet all my needs.  Thank you, God, for providing what I really need to make my life complete.

 

 I AM THEM

I swore I would never become one of them.  I mean really.  Never!  Never!  Never would I become one of them. 

It started by a simple act of getting my collar straightened as I came out of the examination room.  “Here, let me fix your collar.  Don’t want it standing up.”  Then I told office staff how I got in trouble with a teacher when I defended having your collar turned up and your shirt tail out.  “That looks stupid,”  the teacher said.  “It looks cool,”  I replied.  And the next time I saw that teacher, I was wearing a white blouse, with the collar turned up and the tail pulled out.  It was the early 60’s and I do believe my actions had a negative influence on my grade.  A rather substantial influence.

I swore I would never be like them. 

“How can you study with that music?”  my dad asked.  “Turn it off so you can concentrate.”  That music?  What was wrong with that music?  Elvis.  The Everly Brothers.  Bobby Vinton.  Brenda Lee.  The beat.  The sound of the waves.  Blue Suede Shoes.  They helped me focus and, besides, just because it wasn’t Benny Goodman or Glenn Miller or Bing Crosby doesn’t mean it wasn’t music.  I mean, how many times can you hear Over The Rainbow and not want to barf?

I swore I would never be like them.

I could continue with “I will never be like them”  stories, but let’s go back to the conversation in the doctor’s office.  The conversation did not end with my remarks about collars and shirt tails.  It continued with me saying, “It did look cool to me, but I guess it did not look good to them.  You know those that think everything in their day was better.”  And I should have stopped there.  Instead, I finished with, “Of course, I absolutely hate the ripped jeans and wish that fashion fad would pass.  I mean, who in their right mind would work for hours to pay for a pair of ripped jeans?”

And then — WHAM — there I was, sounding like them.  OH NO!!!  I instantly realized: I AM THEM.  Our clothes were better.  Our music was better.  Our education was better.  Our cars were better.  I AM THEM.

Are we “THEM”  when it comes to our faith?  Yes, hold true to our foundation and the Word of God, but are we “THEM?”  Do we allow the past to stop the future?

————————————————————

PS.  For full disclosure.  I am totally THEM.  Our music was better!  Today’s generation even listens to good ole rock n roll!  And today’s one-mold-fits-all cars cannot hold a candle stick to the cars and pickups of the 50’s and 60’s.  Tail fins.  Sweet sound of a car with glass packs.  Pink Cadillac.  Now that is personality.  Our education produced people who can think for themselves and have common sense.  And a shirt with the collar turned up and the shirt tail out is still cool. 

 

GAMES

I love to play games.  I wonder how many of you know the game Parcheesi.  Or Uncle Wiggily.  Growing up, we played both of these.  My parents played Canasta and everyone played Euchre.  The card game Pinochle was popular.  Of course, there was Bingo and Checkers.  One game I never enjoyed was Monopoly.

My grandkids loved Candy Land, Pay Day, and Life.  When young, our granddaughter got Candy Land ready to play.  She assured me that she had it set up right and she was going to give me the honor of going first.  I drew and went maybe three spaces.  She drew and went to Queen Frostine.  I drew again and landed on Gooey Gumdrop.  She drew and landed two squares from home.  I did not draw yellow.  She drew and won the game.  Of course, she had set the draws up.  The best part was watching her try to keep a straight face.

Pay Day, the old version, was a favorite of the grandboys.  They would grab that game as they came in the door.  They knew how to set up the bank.  The knew exactly how much money each player received to begin the game.  That game was set up before they even told us hi.  Coats came off and, I swear, the trumpets sounded and the royal announcer proclaimed, “Let the game begin.”  The game might last an hour, a day, or a whole weekend.

My favorite game is Sorry.  And it is played with much love, as that mean grandgirl and mean grandboys, would look me in the eye, lay a Sorry card down, take my piece, put it back at start, and say, with sarcasm and a shake of the head, “S..o..r..r..y!”  Believe me, they were not sorry.  I could drip sarcasm and shake my head with the best of them.  There is no feeling like drawing a Sorry card and sending someone back to Start, just as they are ready to get in the safety zone.  We also made-up new ways to play the game.  Yup, Sorry is my favorite game.

Now, poor hubby did not play games.  Growing up with older parents and no siblings, he just did not play games.  No games - until I finally wore him down and he agreed to play one game of Quiddler.  We have played two games of Quiddler almost every night since then.  At first, I won almost every game and am proud of Bill’s stick-to-itness.  He hung in there.  He got better.  Now he wins, but I still win the most games.  The grandkids ask me if I let him win.  I replied, “Did I ever let you win?”  For some odd reason, they all cheer for grandpa to win.

I am going to tell you something that you will not believe.  I love to play games, but do not care if I win or lose.  It is the playing, the trash talking, the “in your face”  moves, and being with others that I enjoy.  Except for one game and that game I play to win.

 

LIFE is not really a game because LIFE is real.  It cannot be taken apart, put back into a box, and returned to the shelf.  The moves we make have consequences.  The moves of those around us impact our lives.  When playing a game trash talking is fun, but stabs and leaves scars in LIFE.  Winning at all cost might declare you a success by the standards of the world, but, in LIFE, can cost you your soul.  Sitting back and doing nothing may feel safe, but you will miss out on the wonders and the blessings of LIFE.  Unlike a board game where you roll dice to determine your next move, LIFE’s moves require wisdom.

LIFE is about being with fellow believers who also have the same goal.  It is about learning the rules and applying them to your actions and how you treat others.  It is about making one move and then another and then another.  Each move getting you one breath closer to eternal life.  LIFE is about winning.

Remember two things:

YOU ARE NOT ALONE.

Therefore, since I am surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let me throw off everything that hinders me and the sin that so easily entangles me.  And let me run with perseverance the race marked out for me, fixing my eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith.

Hebrews 12:1 and part of 2 - made personal

 WE KNOW THE ENDING.  WE WIN THROUGH JESUS CHRIST.

For the Lord my God is the one who goes with me to fight for me against my enemies to give me victory.

Deuteronomy 20:4 - made personal

THREAD

I am sure you will get tired of the “I am packing” blogs, but hang in there with me.  I had Bill get some totes out of my closet.  One is full of doilies.  He asked, “What are you ever going to do with all those doilies?”  I showed him some I had pulled out and told him those could go to the Thrift Store.  They were ones I had bought here or there.  “But what about those?” he asked, as he nodded at the still almost full container.

“These are special.”  I touched the doilies made with white thread, red thread, gold thread, and pink thread.  Those doilies are made from threads that …

“What color thread would you like your teacher’s doily to be?” mom asked.  We stood there, looking at all the colors.  Each year, in elementary school, my teacher received a handmade doily.  I picked the color and mom crocheted a gift.

“I have some thread that needs wound into a ball,” grandma would say.  I would be all excited because I made a whole nickel to wind that skein of thread.  Hey, don’t sneeze at a nickel.  Back then five pennies would buy a lot of candy! Out would come the chair that the skein fit on.  I would fold the paper wrapper, which had been around the thread, into a sorta circle.  Taking the end of the thread, I would wrap and wrap and wrap.  My fingers would get tired.  I would begin to think this was a lot of work for five cents.  And then, all of the thread was in a ball.  Ready for grandma to use.

Rabbit trail:  I was going to insert a picture of someone winding thread and had to laugh.  There are videos on how to do this.  Videos!  What happened to common sense?  I knew how to wind thread into a ball as a kid.  The skein fit over the arms of that one chair, you made a small ball with that wrapper, and you kept going around and around until the thread was wound into a ball.  My goodness, it is not rocket science.  Videos!  What is this world coming to?

Back to thread.  “Why am I keeping all of these?” I said as I touched those doilies.  “It is all about the thread.  My mom or my grandma has touched each of these.  Skein after skein.  Ball of thread after ball of thread.  And I can see my grandma, sitting silently, crocheting another doily that she would give away.  I can see my mom, counting stitches and keeping us kids under control, as she made an armchair set.  (Don’t laugh.  It was/is a thing.  Look it up.)  Each with thread wrapped around their finger, as thread became a piece of art that would sit under a lamp or a vase or a clock.  Or given to an elementary school teacher.  Or given to a granddaughter/daughter who would one day say, “I am keeping these because the thread has been touched by either my grandma or my mom.  It is all about the thread.  Thread that ties generations together.”

Thread that ties generations together.  Sorta like the Word of God.

Your word, Lord, is eternal; it stands firm in the heavens.

Your faithfulness continues through all generations;

Psalms 119:89-part of 90

PSALM 100

I keep some hints back for those times when Thursday seems to sneak up on me.  This is one of those weeks.  At the top of the list was the question:  Who must approve of us to make us happy?  Following that was a quotation by Wayne Dyer:  If you change the way you look at things, the things you look at change.  Hummmm.  Nope.  Neither seemed to fit the fast-approaching time to post my blog.  On down the list I went.  No.  Hmmmm, maybe.  Sorta.  YES – Bingo.

PSALM 100

Shout for joy to the LORD, all the earth.  This is rather fitting.  This Monday, maybe not all the earth, but the corner of the earth I am in will be watching an eclipse of the sun.  What an event this is because, if the weather cooperates, will see a total eclipse. 

Worship the LORD with gladness;  You know, the opposite of grouchy, grumpy, aggravated, upset, frowning, or having an unforgiving heart.  

come before him with joyful songs.  Joyful songs that are delightful, glad, happy, and thankful.  No songs that are sad, wretched, or full of calamity.

Know that the LORD is God.  Well, duh.  Who else do you know who could create the world in such a way that a total eclipse would pass over Indiana on April 8, 2024, just so I could see it?

It is he who make us, and we are his;  Psalm 139 is my favorite Psalm.  We are wonderfully made.  Knit in our mother’s womb.  God did that.  He created us.  He created you.  Proclaim (to declare publicly, insistently, proudly, defiantly) these words:  I am a child of God.  Say it again with your head held high and your hand raised toward heaven:  I am a child of God.  One more time, but quietly, almost a whisper, reverently:  I am a child of God.

we are his people, the sheep of his pasture.  We are not alone!!!  Remember that when you are by yourself and feel forgotten.  We are not along.  You.  Me.  WE are his people!  WE are his sheep and we feed on His Word.

Enter his gates with thanksgiving and his courts with praise;  Sometimes life can hold more than a bit of troubles, but even in our trials and troubles, we can find things to be thankful for.  How valuable is a kind word, a friend’s smile, a loved one finally getting rest, or a cup of morning coffee.  Do you ever wonder where his courts are?  Does this mean heaven?  Does this mean church?  Or maybe this means our world.  Give praise when the fish are biting.  Give praise when the storm breaks.  What the heck.  Just give praise all the time.  God will love it.

give thanks to him and praise his name.  This is easy.  I praise you and give thanks for the children you created that discovered medications that ease our pain and heal our bodies.  For those that you created to be teachers.  And truck drivers.  And farmers.  And …….

For the LORD is good and his love endures forever;  Forever!!  This does not say for a week or a month or a year or 100 years or 100,000 years.  It says FOREVER and that is a very long time.  In other words, our LORD’s love never ends. 

his faithfulness continues through all generations.  What this does not say is that our faithfulness continues through all generations.  We can all look at our families and find those that do not believe.  BUT I can look at my family and see our Lord’s faithfulness in the lives of my grandmother, mother, and daughter.  Generations.

Psalm 100.  Only 5 verses.  An easy read that is full of joy.