Colors of Love and Spring by Betty Mason Arthurs

Posted on April 13, 2017 by Betty Mason Arthurs

 

What is the color of love? The color of spring? Blue? Yellow? Red? Green?

Is it the color of a radiant pink garden rose or the fuzzy yellow of a honey bee?

Perhaps love is a rainbow of colors captured when a couple in love say their wedding vows; the satin white of her wedding dress and the dancing hazel eyes of her groom; the sweet gauzy pink of the flower girl’s dress as she scatters rose petals down the aisle; the radiant pink of the garden roses in her bouquet; the silken gray of the joyous tears shed by a grandmother dressed in paisley dress and blue shawl; the groomsmen in black tuxes, short and tall.

A dairy farm shows off its kaleidoscopic colors of spring as a farmer tills his fields through the color of hayseed which is ready to plant and feed his livestock through a bitter winter. The herd of Guernsey cows frolic in a bronze-colored dance when released from their winter sojourn in the barn. Green is the color of spring for the farmer to sow his fields with yellow corn and maize to fill the huge white silos, sentries around the red barn. Yellow tractors roar throughout long, sunny days up and down black, rich soil in perfect rows. Speckled chickens lay brown and white eggs for a hungry breakfast crowd.  Yes, love is the color of a hard-working farmer in his fields and the red dairy barn. And spring planting time is the color green.

A mother snuggles her newborn babe, her heart bright with a light blue glow that only a new mom can know. His red, scrunched-up face and black wispy hair is to her eyes the beauty of new life she sheltered in her womb for nine months. Intimate love between the father and mother created this miracle of life.

Easter colors in spring are dyed robin-blue eggs in white baskets and brown chocolate bunnies ready to be devoured by girls dressed like Cinderella and boys in dark blue hero capes. Their joy permeates the air with splashes of gold and purple joy.

The first Easter of long ago started in an olive garden so dark and black, when Jesus wept in agony knowing what lay ahead. Soldiers in silver raiment with metal spears and swords beat Jesus until he bled. Red was the color of his blood and shredded skin from the whipping he endured until his visage was marred and unrecognizable. The Jesus, who created all the colors of the universe, crucified on a splintered, blood-caked cross. Jesus–who opened his black-and-blue arms in love for a world he formed–gave up his life with his final tortured cry, “It is finished.” 

Jesus’ resurrection that first Easter morning was a breathtaking flaming orange and purple sunrise which dawned in a blaze of colors and brought hope of eternal life to all mankind. Heavenly colors circled around the angels at the tomb of our risen Lord. Hearts blazed with eternal hope in a blinding bolt of lightning destroying the blackness of death and hell and brought radiant colors of love and spring.

Posted in Easter, Greatest love ever, Jesus, Love | Tagged , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

A Hundred Reasons to Cry or Smile by Betty Mason Arthurs

Posted on April 3, 2017 by Betty Mason Arthurs

 

I love to stare at this photo of my grandson, Preston, and the family dog, Ella, who sleeps with him each night. Like most dogs, she’s a goofy friend whose energetic play brings smiles and laughter to all of us. Who can be sad around golden-doodle Ella?

However, there are times when life’s problems become overwhelming. I don’t know about you, but I often cry when someone loses a precious child. It brings back the grief of when my husband and I lost two of our baby sons. When I listen to the news where another disaster has claimed the lives of hundreds of innocent people from an earth quake in a poverty stricken country; I feel so helpless but I can pray. There are a hundred reasons to cry.

Thanks to the scripture found in James 5:11, we know that God is full of compassion and mercy. I always  remember that tears are a language He understands. He also asks us to “Clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience.” Colossians 3:12 (NIV). Facebook posts this week, from family members I haven’t seen in years, ask prayer for a cousin who almost died and needed heart bypasses. Thanks to the posting, it shares instant information so I can send a note of concern and tell them I will pray. That’s the beauty of  social media. In a few days my cousin was on the road to recovery.

Yes, there are a multitude of reasons for each of us to cry, but a bookmark from New Beginnings Greeting Card Collection put it this way:

When life gives you a hundred reasons to cry, show life that you have a thousand reasons to smile. (Author unknown)

And I would add, thousands of prayers to pray…and thousands of laughs with a dog like Ella.

Do you pray when you read of a need on social media? Have you felt comforted when Facebook friends tell you that they’re praying for you?

Do you have a pet? How do they add smiles to your life every day?

 

Posted in dogs, Doing Life Together, Faith, Hope, Pets, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , | 6 Comments

When Your Life Looks Like a Disaster…by ARHuelsenbeck

Posted on March 24, 2017 by Andrea R Huelsenbeck

Imagine arriving at church one Sunday morning and seeing this:

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It looks like a war zone, doesn’t it?

Shocked parishioners stood in the parking lot and stared at the rubble.

Actually, the congregation of Gethsemane Lutheran Church should have anticipated this sight. It’s good news. Feeling the strain of a sanctuary too small to hold all the attendees at worship services, the church had started many months ago pledging and raising money for the improvement initiative they named Forward in Mission. Demolition had to occur before new construction could begin.

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Yet, people felt devastated by the wreckage. People who contributed toward the erection of the original structure decades ago. People who recognized the old church as a neighborhood landmark. People who had attended the parish school, and had gone to chapel in the old building.

Often, the old has to be torn down before positive changes can be made.

Life is like that, isn’t it?

Sometimes I recognize that one corner of my life is encroaching on the others. I’m spending time in a way that causes conflict for me or for people I care about. Yet I tolerate the tension and the clashes and the ineffectiveness, because it’s the way I’ve always operated and I derive a sick satisfaction from the status quo. It takes total collapse before I surrender and admit that the only remedy is change. On my part.

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It’s hard. I mourn the loss of the old me, even though I know the new person I am becoming is one step closer to the vision of the God who created me.

He is a God of second chances. He is the Guide to salvation and sanctification. He’ll allow me to experience disaster, if that’s what it takes for me to notice He’s leading me in a different direction.

And He’ll make something beautiful out of the destruction.

Posted in change, Church, God, Transformation | Tagged , | Leave a comment

My New Tween Book Release

Posted on March 17, 2017 by Linda Carlblom

I squirm a little when it comes to self-promoting a new book. It feels so self-serving and that goes against my grain. But I’m super proud to announce the release of my new book, Meet Shelby Culpepper, which is book one of a three-book series for tweens.

I’ll tell you a little about the book, but then I want to share some background about why this book means so much to me. It’s available here on Amazon. You can read the back cover copy below:

A new school. A dying grandpa. A mysterious note. Even one of those things would be enough to keep Shelby awake at night. But all three at once provide the perfect ingredients for a really rotten seventh grade year. When Shane, the cutest boy in school, talks to her, Shelby is both thrilled and mortified. Thrilled because, wow. And mortified because his girlfriend is the most popular—and snobbiest—girl in school. With the help of her new friends—an overconfident geek and a boy-crazy romantic, as well as the wisdom of her bedridden grandfather, Shelby unravels the mysteries of the note, and explores the secrets of love, life, and death.

Continue reading →

Posted in Book reviews, Books, Doing Life Together, Family Stories, Reading | Tagged , , , , , , | 3 Comments

My Dog Keeps Me on My Knees

Posted on February 27, 2017 by Judy Robertson

img_0207I have to admit, when I am on my knees praying I don’t stay very long as it hurts my knees. It’s down, a few words, and up as quickly as possible. While on my knees in this humbled position, it seems my prayers are more intense.

Recently, something has kept me down longer. My sweet cuddly little Jack, mixed-breed rescue, decided he wanted to join me while I was in that position. He stepped into the “v” my calves made as I knelt, laid his head right in the crook of my knee and curled up contentedly. As I peeped over my shoulder to look at his interesting repose, I didn’t want to disturb his sleep. So I stayed on my knees longer.

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Posted in Being still before God, Christian Living, dogs, Faith, Pets, Prayer | Tagged , , | 4 Comments

Helping Children Learn to Write…by ARHuelsenbeck

Posted on February 24, 2017 by Andrea R Huelsenbeck

 

girl-writing-2Reading, writing, and ‘rithmetic used to be called the 3 Rs—the three basic skills necessary for success in life. Your children’s teachers will thank you if you encourage your kids to write. Here are eleven ideas to help you:

  1. Child as young as two years old: Give her a pencil and paper and encourage her to “write”—even if it looks like scribbling. (Watch her to be sure she writes on the paper and doesn’t accidentally poke her eye.)
  2. Three years old: Go through a wordless picture book (preferably one you’ve “read” him before—a good one is Peter Spier’s Noah’s Ark) and ask him what’s happening in each picture.
  3. Four years old: Have her practice writing the alphabet and her name. (Call your local school and find out what handwriting model they use. I grew up with the Palmer method; my children were taught D’Nealian. You can find D’Nealian alphabets online. Make a sample for her to copy.)little-boy-writing
  4. Four or five years old: Ask him to tell you a story. Write it down as your child dictates it. Then fold some paper into a booklet and rewrite the story with just a sentence or two per page. Make a construction paper cover for it, and staple it all together. Read the story to your child. (He may want you to read it over and over again, and may learn to read it himself so he can read it to his friends.) When your child has an adventure, or when your family goes on vacation, ask her to tell you what she did, and follow the same steps to record it for her.
  5. Four or five years old: Show the child how to copy a favorite book into a Word document. (My youngest daughter did this on her own with lots of her books and was a super-fast typist by the time she was seven.)
  6. For six-year-olds: Write part of a sentence on a piece of paper, and ask the child to complete it. My favorite food is ­­_____. I saw a cloud that looked like a ­­­_____. When I grow up, I want to be _____. The thing I like most about Grandma is _____.
  7. Ask children to add items to the family grocery list.
  8. If your child likes a song, encourage him to write down the words.
  9. For young writers, content is what counts. Don’t bother correcting spelling before second grade, or grammar before fourth grade.boy-writing
  10. Share letters and emails from friends and relatives, and let your kids write replies. Have your children write thank-you notes for Christmas and birthday gifts.
  11. Give your child writing gifts: multi-point and mechanical pencils; pens and markers in different colors; lots and lots of paper in all shapes, sizes, and colors; a dictionary appropriate to the child’s age; a journal or diary.

Do you have some suggestions to add? Share in the comments below.

Posted in children, Parenting, Teaching, Thank you notes, Writing | Tagged , , | 2 Comments

Soul Beauty

Posted on February 17, 2017 by Linda Carlblom

beautiful-insideWhat could be more lovely than inner beauty of a life well lived, developed through years of experience? Think of all the funny stories, the heartaches, the worries, and the triumphs that reside in the hearts of older folks. I once had an older friend who used to say, “We’re all the same age on the inside.” It’s true. As I get older, I realize I still feel the same as when I was a teenager. Sure, I’m not physically able to do all the things I could then. But I can do some things now that I couldn’t as a younger person, like listen with more empathy because I’ve already walked in those shoes. I can hold things more loosely because I know there’s infinitely more value in things that can’t be held.

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Posted in Aging, Doing Life Together, Legacy, Life | Tagged , , , , , | 4 Comments

In the Meme Time: Judgment

Posted on February 7, 2017 by Andrea R Huelsenbeck

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Posted in Ideals, immigration, Quotes | Leave a comment

Love Letter Begs for Date

Posted on January 31, 2017 by Betty Mason Arthurs

bettys-letter

Love Letter Begs for Date

by

Betty Mason Arthurs

 

Long before the internet and online dating sites, young ladies communicated with potential “matches” by letter, hand-written or typed on ancient typewriters. Like most senior folk, I miss those days when you could unfold a piece of stationary and reread a love note, not an e-mail, from your sweetheart. When I was dating my husband John, he left me sweet notes in my college mail box. I also loved getting letters from my mother when I lived miles away from her. So it was no surprise that I found some letters she had saved in a box from the 1950s and 1960s. One mysterious letter, written to my 19-year-old brother Mark, when he was in junior college, made me wonder, “Why did Mom keep this? Who typed the letter, its keys skipping and smudges of ink on every line?” I’ll share the letter.

November 17, 1960

Dear Mark,

I have often thought of you but I have never been able to bring myself to the point of actually writing to you. I hope you don’t think that I am too forward. Actually I am very shy, and somewhat cute, if I do say so myself. My problem is this: I don’t have a date to the banquet yet and I was wondering if you could possibly (now if you won’t don’t hesitate to say no, for it wouldn’t hurt my feelings too much. I mean, I would get over it in a couple of weeks, I think.) find it in your heart to try to help me out of my predicament which is very embarrassing to me. You see, I was once homecoming queen of my high school and since then I have never wanted for dates, that is, until now. Now I come to (Christian college), which they all told me was just about as close to heaven as one could possibly get and I haven’t had a single date as of yet. This is really hard to take. I have noticed that you haven’t had too many dates this year so I thought you might be in a similar predicament. So I am writing this letter to tell you I would be happy to date you even if no one else is. If you want to contact me, please write to Box 26, as I have a private box at the post office. I am a town student but am only 20 y/o. Of course I am too shy and modest to sign my name, but as soon as I receive your letter I will gladly let you know who I am. Until then, love, ????????

Can you imagine a young lady pouring her heart out like this on a dating site today?  I cringe when I think of the ridicule and bullying a desperate girl would receive if she admitted she needed a date. I think my tender-hearted mother kept the letter because she had once longed for dates. I know I did in high school in the 1960s. I can’t ask her because she died in 1985. I would like to tease my brother and ask him, “Did you take her to the banquet?” but he is gone too. Mark, who always had girls chasing him, often wrote to our folks, “I’ve got a banquet coming up. Can you send $20?” The joke in our household was, “When we hear from the boys it’s because they need money.” Even today, girls don’t understand that not all guys have a nice suit or tux to wear or a car to drive, plus money for prom, a corsage and dinner at a nice restaurant.

This letter speaks to me about teen girls and self esteem. Not much has changed even with the advent of internet communication. Maybe you’ve heard the story of a young lady who had a pair of men’s jeans on the end of her bed. Every night she knelt and prayed, “God please fill those jeans with a man for me.” I don’t know if God ever answered her, but I chuckle at her ingenuity.

My heart goes out to the writer, since she thinks having lots of dates will bring her happiness. I want to hug her, like I did with my daughter, and say, “Sweetheart, tell God your desires and your dreams. No one will ever love you as much as He does. Only He can be trusted to give you the love you long for.” Scripture is full of promises and one of my favorites is found in Jeremiah 29:11 (NIV), “’‘For I know the plans I have for you,’ declares the Lord, ‘plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.’”

Do you know a lonely young lady who longs for dates or wants to be married? What advice would you give her?

Student by Gualberto107

Posted in Doing Life Together, Dreams, Hope, Love, Nostalgia, Prayer, Romance, Trust in God's promises, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , | 1 Comment

Fear of Driving

Posted on January 27, 2017 by Andrea R Huelsenbeck

I didn’t get my driver’s license until I was 19.

I got my first learner’s permit when I was a senior in high school. My dad took me out driving several times in his huge Buick LeSabre. Our sessions usually ended with him red-faced and shouting at me, and me crying. At the time, I didn’t understand why Dad was so frustrated.

The day of my scheduled road test was also the day of the first blizzard of 1970. I had no experience driving in snow. Even though Dad promised the test course would be plowed by the time we got there, this was not the way I’d imagined it. I pictured myself driving us to the Motor Vehicles office on non-scary, dry roads. I didn’t want a last-minute lesson on driving on snow-covered roads. So I refused to go. Dad said I could call and reschedule, but I just didn’t want to practice and be shouted at and burst into tears any more. Besides, in the fall I would be going away to college, and there was no place for dorm residents to park on campus. Plus, I didn’t have a car.

Fast forward to the middle of my sophomore year in college. Concerned that the focus of my program was not the best fit for me, I decided to transfer to the college closest to my parents’ house. That would be a savings, I reasoned, because they wouldn’t have to pay for my room and board (that’s how a 19-year-old’s brain works; of course they were paying for my food and the roof over my head and the utilities I was using).

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My Tempest looked like this, but mine was turquoise. Is that road snow-covered? Show-off.

The first week at my new school, I discovered that the two buses I had to take got me to school in an hour and a half, and the return trip was just as tedious. So Dad bought me a used Pontiac Tempest and driving lessons. The room and board savings flew out the window. But I actually got my driver’s license.

 

Of course, a few days later, the first blizzard of 1972 struck while I was in class. I called Dad, and he bummed a ride to the college from a neighbor, and drove me home in my new car.

I never got over my fear of driving in snow. (I’m glad I live in the Arizona desert now.)

In 1974 I married my sweetheart. We lived in an apartment in a subdivided house in Edison, New Jersey. Which meant that every day, traveling to and from work, I had to cross the Morris Goodkind Bridge. Like its companion, the Donald Goodkind Bridge (though neither of them were particularly good or kind, by the way), it was three lanes wide. From the outer lanes, it was a very long, terrifying drop to the water. And I was sure my car was destined to take the plunge. Southbound on Route 1, I could stay in the middle lane, where I only had to worry about the 18-wheelers whizzing past me on both sides. But northbound, I had to stay in the right lane, mere millimeters from a watery grave, because my exit was just past the northern shore of the Raritan River. Many years passed before I could make that drive without dissolving into panic. Moving to a different part of New Jersey helped.

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The Morris and David Goodkind Bridges may look pretty from this angle, but when I drove across them, they seemed neither good nor kind.

I finally became comfortable with driving, at least under favorable weather conditions.

And then I had kids.

Becoming a parent gives you a new respect for the perils of the road. One second’s inattention could cause the loss of my family’s next generation. The sense of the responsibility made me hypervigilant and phobic.

By the time I had five children, I came up with a strategy for minimizing distractions in the car. If the kids got too noisy, I’d find a place to pull over and we wouldn’t move again until everyone was calm. It worked so well that after a few years, if I stopped at a traffic light, one of the kids would ask, “Mom, what did we do?”stocksnap_vflt8d6ejf

At this point in my life, I have 45 years of driving experience. I’ve only had one accident—when I was still in college and drove on an icy bridge on the way home. (Honestly, why are people that young allowed to drive? I think the driving age needs to be raised—to 35.) But my friends all know I won’t drive at night if it’s raining. Too scary. The reflections confuse me. (That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.)

How about you? Do you drive? Are you comfortable driving in rain or snow? Have you ever been afraid to cross a bridge? What scares you? Share in the comments below.

Posted in Fear, Humor, Memoir | Tagged | 5 Comments