My Basil Plant and the Manger

     I posted my first advent blog late Saturday night. It lacked Advent Joy because I felt "down" and wrote about my blahs. Sure enough things would head down hill.

But, during church the next morning I remembered:

The 1st week of Advent reminds us to HOPE.

      Still couldn't shake the "yuk' feeling. I moped around Sunday afternoon, pondering Hope, and searching for my usual Christmas Mode.
     Monday dawned bright and clear--outside. I decorated the porches then Gus and I worked together down at the road adding a few bedraggled colored lights to our entrance gate. Another freeze was on the way, so I deep-watered our new Texas Sage bushes and  Bradford Pear tree.
     Our fresh air day ended with the TV blaring: Allergy Report: MOLD ALERT! Yes, even in drought-stricken Texas, we get seasons of dry mold that keep doctors in practice.
But, I held onto Hope.
     Tuesday, the wind hit. Hard. North. Loud. Blustery. Cold. I could not cancel Melinda's medical appointments, so out we went. In and out. Out and in.
Finally, back home, I made a pot of my famous chicken stew. It has been reported that Liz's Chicken Stew has mighty healing powers. The stew was good but lacked something. Anyway, by bedtime, my throat was sore. But thoughts of Hope lingered.
     Wednesday I was SICK. I cancelled our adopted Lab's first vet visit and crawled back under the covers. Our little 55-pound Ava was grateful for the reprieve and when Gus's repaired 4-wheel scooter was delivered, she ran around the property chasing Dear Heart and being a free, country dog. (I did not yet understand 'being a country dog.')
     The day had been long and coughing into my elbow, I made a double batch of Kathy's Minestrone Soup which is guaranteed to carry strong medicinal properties.While the soup simmered, Gus went to church, Melinda and I huddled on the couch watching a Christmas movie. Ava ate her supper and promptly threw up every morsel. Hope seemed to slip through my fingers.
I took a dose of left-over cough medicine and slept all night.
     Thursday, Ava and I dragged ourselves to the vet. Dr. K laughed, gave her a shot and said, "She'll recover. By the smell of her breath, she was just being a country dog (!!)and ate something stinky. Give her these pills, wrapped in treats, tomorrow."
     Back home, I noticed my prize, Lemon Verbena. Dead. I had taken extra pains to baby my beautiful herb, treated it with vitamins, and wrapped it tightly against nature's blast. Yet, the second freeze took it out.

*sigh* Inside, I found the bunch of pills my people doctor sent for me to take and all of us relaxed a little over steaming bowls of left-over Liz's Stew.

     Then I remembered my Basil Plant. Stew is drab without fresh basil. Winter is harsh without fresh basil.

"And now, Lord, for what do I wait? My HOPE is in Thee." Psalm 39:7

Fresh Basil thrives in our wunny guest room for the long months of winter.

     So, somehow, among sore throats and upset stomachs, killing freezes and harsh winds, a prayer list too long with needs of hurting friends, cancer and pain, worry and doubt, God IS hope and every day--day in and day out--His sweet peace wraps around us and comforts and gives us strength to start over tomorrow.

May you be wrapped in His perfect love and enjoy ALL the blessings of HOPE.

Let us welcome our Lord Jesus Christ with unspeakable joy.

~Liz~

Where IS Christmas ??

Tis the Season.

To shop.

To spend.

To travel.

To forget our lives of quiet desperation.

Mr. Thoreau searched diligently for hope, yet it is said he believed that most men go to the grave without ever finding their song.

But, even old, worn-out Santa Claus brought hope and fun to a war-ravaged world in the 1940’s. Our family had almost NO “purchased-in-a-store” presents, but the junk bicycle Daddy found and restored for my 10th Christmas was better than gold to me. Mother always told us that “Santa Claus is the spirit of Christmas and love.” Hummm. Sounds okay to me!

Regardless of serpents and lies and a fallen world, I happen to know that HOPE lives.

Hope. And Love. Forgiveness. Absolute completeness. Our Song of songs is alive and well today.

Because on that holy and glorious morning of mornings, Jesus Christ gave HOPE and LIFE to a lost and hopeless world when He became man and lived among us.

                                 

AND, without CHRISTmas and the birth of the Son of Man, there would be no Easter morning.

I am tired this year…physically. It’s been a difficult year. Not bad, just difficult. Yet, because the Messiah came, we MUST celebrate.

Christmas is in my heart.

Christmas is on our hill.

Christmas is on this blog.

      So far as I can tell, Truth has not been totally eradicated and most churches continue to remember the birth of the Savior in special events and celebrations and children’s pageants and Advent candles during December each year. We, as God’s wayward children will continue to shout Alleluias and Hosanna in the Highest and Blessed is He who comes in the name of the LORD.

      For a few days during December, these pages will also shout the news that Jesus Christ was born in a stable. For a few days, we will prepare our hearts anew to welcome the birth of the King of kings and the Lord of lords. We will pray for each other and for our communities and for our nation. We will seek God’s face and we will BE love to each other. We will be a witness for the King.

Please join me for a few minutes during this hectic and sometimes hopeless season –

To find a quiet place in our hearts

To worship our high and Holy Father

To renew our joy

To prepare ONCE AGAIN, to welcome His Advent

To celebrate HOPE.

   Merry Christmas,

       Liz

Sheep in our Hay Field

Our adult Sunday School class has been studying Isaiah. Due to miscellaneous "stuff," Dear Heart and I have missed about every other class so God continues to find ways to drop His prophet right in my path! [see Gratitude Attitude post :-)]
     Yesterday afternoon I grabbed my camera to prove what I saw right in our own front yard:

     I had big plans for yesterday, the Sunday before Thanksgiving. Quiet, worshipful, and restful. None of them included chasing sheep; I just wanted to prepare my heart so I could tackle the Thanksgiving things in the kitchen that sometimes make me forget to be thankful. Mid-afternoon, our not-yet-adjusted two-year-old Lab, Ava, paced the floor but refused (!) to go outside by herself. (well, she's a rescue with an unknown history and I'm an easy mark). Since the November weather was unseasonably beautiful, sunny, and warm, I went to the back porch with Ava and my book. NICE !! I thought, Why don't I do this more often?
     Then Ava barked--a lot--at something going on in the hay field. I saw nothing but a neat row of round hay bales our nephew had stacked along the side fence. Uh, wait! Ava and I walked over the the fence for a closer look.
     Yes. It was SHEEP. Inside our pasture. A bunch. (s'cuse me: a FLOCK) Actually, about three rams, four ewes, and a few lambkins.
     I've never discovered sheep wandering any of the pastures around our farm neighborhood so I ran to the house, grabbed my camera, zoomed in real close, and began shooting digitals as the sheep ambled across our side yard toward the main road.

     They trotted along in a line, blindly following one another. The ewes seemed to lead the flock with their young lambs close by, and the rams brought up the rear. (please.. let's not go into a discussion about women leading guys down a hopeless path!!)

Nevertheless. When the flock got to our fence at the road...

 ....not one of the sheep attempted to search for a way out. As one, the flock turned and trotted back up the path from whence they had come and disappeared from sight.
     We made some phone calls with no results but on our way to a Community Thanksgiving Worship, we stopped at one farm someone had suggested might be the owners.
Nobody at home!
     Later, heading home from church, the Sheriff was on the road in a ginormous truck with a gazillion lights flashing. No sign of the sheep so we assumed the brave deputies had handled the lost flock. At home, our phone was ringing off the wall. The Sheriff's office asked if WE knew who owned the sheep wandering the road and being a menace. How and why did they call me? Nope, not a sheep-herder in the family.
     This morning, various neighbors  reported sheep sightings up and down our road. The Sheriff's guys returned with reinforcements and apparently herded the sheep into a nearby field leased by a local vet.
Wrong again.
     On my way to town after lunch, the by-this-time-FAMOUS flock of sheep was in another pasture. When I returned home an hour later on the same road and passed the same pastures, all fields were void of ANY sheep. EMPTY.
     But, as I pondered the wanderings, an ancient memory surfaced. I've walked with my Lord over sixty years, and suddenly today I saw the prophet Isaiah's message in chapter 53, verse 6 in a completely new light.
     Long, long, VERY long ago (before most of my readers were born), I memorized that passage from the King James Version of the Holy Bible. ("All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned every one to his own way; and the LORD hath laid on him the iniquity of us all.") I assumed I understood the meaning of that passage but I went to Bible Gateway to compare different translations. After  closely observing those real-live sheep wander around, lost, thirsty, and hungry, in a strange countryside for more than thirty hours, I meditated a long while on Isaiah 53:6 from The Message. 
     The phone interrupted my meditation and as I scurried back to real life, a peace that passes all my understanding settled over me as I flitted from one crisis to another.
      We still don't know what happened to the flock of lost sheep but my kitchen is ready for Thanksgiving and my heart overflows with a fresh love for my Lord Jesus.
     Thank You, Holy Father, for sending lost sheep to show me a clear view.
~~Liz~~

"...we looked down on him, thought he was scum. But the fact is, it was our pains he carried...he took the punishment, and that made us whole. Through his bruises we get healed. We're all like sheep who've wandered off and gotten lost. We've all done our own thing, gone our own way. And God has piled all our sins, everything we've done wrong, on him... on HIM."

   Some of Isaiah 53-6 from "The Message."

 BTW...my friend Dennis in our chiropractor's office, gave me the website for accuracy in describing the lost animals. Check out www.enchantedlearning.com. Did you know that a bunch of Camels is also a FLOCK??  

  

P.S. As an six-year-old Sunbeam in Mrs. Pennington's class, I had no idea that I had no idea what "iniquity" meant.

Liz

Gratitude Attitude

     Here it is the season to give thanks and I've been disgustingly groucy and out of sorts. No serious reason, just additional aches, pains, sleep problems, demands on my energy and time, and too many things to do that I can't do as easily as I once did.
     My bad humor got totally out of control this morning. My to-do list looked like a mountain of bricks and I could not even find my want-to-do list.
     So I got in the shower and I cried. Literally. Loud and hard and I couldn't tell where the salty tears started and the hot, soapy shower water stopped.
     Since that felt ridiculous, I began to tell my High and Holy Father why I should NOT be crying or worried or upset. As if He didn't know. I counted off a few undeserved and over-the-top blessings, then, without thinking, as I blubbered, I listed--out loud faster than I could think or count, other good gifts and perfect gifts and awesome people and wonderful things that make my life easy and sweet. God is amazing, isn't He? Unaware when the tears stopped, I smiled because the only wet stuff was hot, clean, pure shower water washing away my exhaustion.
    I can't promise you that my study on Isaiah 12:1-6 over the last few days had anything to do with my baptism of reality in the shower this morning, but Isaiah's praises have sure bounced around my heart. Just think, as The Message puts it "...I thank you, God. You were angry but your anger wasn't forever. You withdrew your anger and moved in and comforted me."
     I am indeed comforted and on this wonderful day I give thanks to God and praise His Name.
     By the way, I am especially thankful for all of you who pass by this blog and leave your fingerprints on my heart.
    May you be abundantly blessed as we go into this beautiful season of THANKSGIVING.

A tray of my fresh Whole Wheat Pumpkin Applesauce Muffins from one of my young cyber friends' recipes: http://thischickcooks.blogspot.com

The muffins are sitting on a sun-flower kitchen towel from Kathy, who became one of my new daughters when her daddy married me. How good does it get???? 

~~Liz~~

  

Exchanging Blessings

Did you know about the elephant in the middle of blog-dom that we don't talk about?

VISITING EACH OTHER'S BLOGS.

My goodness, gracious, sakes alive [as my Grandmother Alice exclaimed on a daily basis :-)] it is a HUGE encouragement and blessing when people [I prefer to think of my readers as people :-), don't you??] take time out of their extraordinarily busy lives just to read the simple words I post from my obscure front porch in the Texas hill country.
      So, knocking that elephant down to size, it is even more amazing to ME how many people stop their whole world to use time they truly cannot spare simply to leave a little message for me.
     A lot of messages come straight to my e-mail or on Face Book, and others come as comments to the blog site. Tee-hee, I've even received more than a few telephone calls [you know... that ole-fashioned land-line thing-a-ma-jig] to tell me in person how my words touched them.

WOW.

     And, know what??????????? While my days are filled to the brim [YES, even at my age] I take time every day to 'surf the net' and read blogs of other writers. I learn new things, discover delicious new ways to cook for my family, and find blessings to jump-start my day at every click of my mouse!
     So, to all who write words that keep me going and to all who take time to drop by the front porch of my blog and visit awhile, THANK YOU.
     I'll leave you with the Scripture I used last night to open my talk to the Hill Country Women of Words. I think Paul's words apply to everything we do. The reading is a mixture between the New Living Translation and the New Revised Standard Version.
Romans 12: 6-11:

In his grace, God has given us different gifts for doing certain things well. So if God has given you the ability to prophesy, speak out with as much faith as God has given you. If your gift is serving others, serve them well. If you are a teacher, teach well. If your gift is to encourage others, be encouraging. If it is giving, give generously. If God has given you leadership ability, take the responsibility seriously. And if you have a gift for showing kindness to others, do it gladly.

Don’t just pretend to love others. Really love them. Hate what is wrong. Hold tightly to what is good. Love each other with genuine affection, and take delight in honoring each other. Never be lazy, but work hard and serve the Lord enthusiastically. Rejoice in hope, be patient in suffering, persevere in prayer. When God’s people are in need, be ready to help them. Always be eager to practice hospitality.

Holy Father, may all the words we speak be soothing to each other’s souls and may the words we put to paper never discredit You. In Jesus’ name.

Because Jesus will never lose me,

~~Liz~~