The Day We've Been Waiting For

Today is the day we have been eagerly waiting for. This is the day that my dear cousin and her husband arrive. Today they officially become Oregon citizens. At last. They will stay with us for a few days until their new home is ready for them. The moving truck arrives tomorrow afternoon with their furniture and things from California. It will be unloaded into the garage of their new home just a few miles from ours. Last month I shared here about their pending move. Now that day has arrived! It's still like a dream to me. I may have to pinch myself to see if it's real. Over the past few weeks they have accomplished a lot of things. What seemed impossible to do before moving day arrived has been done. God has put all the details in place - and worked some miracles - for them.

My cousin, Mrs. C., told me on the phone that she has a plan for moving into her new home. First, the beds will be made; then the kitchen and the bathroom will be unpacked and made ready for everyday life. And what will she do next? Put up the Christmas tree and decorate the house for Christmas! She has her priorities, you know.

Since Mrs. C. and I will be involved in a lot of escapades to tell you about it only seems right that I introduce her. Here is a picture of the two of us in our best clothes - two ladies who love each other dearly and have plans galore for the coming days.

(Me - Mrs. C.)

Christmastime Was Meant To Bring Us Love

Christmas, tender and dear time;

Splendor, best-of-the-year time;

Precious, come-and-draw near time;

For Christmastime was meant to bring us love.

Christmas, go-buy-a-tree time;

Bright lights, let's-go-and-see time;

Laughter, wonderful-glee time;

For Christmastime was meant to bring us love.

The gifts we give are but a small reflection

of affection

we feel.

The tenderness which fills our heart is given

from Heaven

to heal.

Listen, silver bells ringing;

Look up, angels are singing;

Reach out, Christmas is bring to you

A priceless gift of peace sent from above.

For Christmastime was meant to bring us love.

- Jack Hayford -

Reflections on Thanksgiving Day

'A beautiful Thanksgiving table is a must.'

That's what one Thanksgiving tablesetting inspiration website proclaimed. But that's not what happened here at my home yesterday. It was the goal but it didn't happen. Nor did several other things happen smoothly. We are all laughing - although I'm not sure I laughed in the middle of the faux pas. A comedy of errors, perhaps. Let me tell you about our day. In my planning it should have been calm, quiet and without incident; however, there were several things different going into the day. Different from any other year. This year there were no men - just the ladies and children. A few days ago I learned that our son-in-law would not be joining us. Then on Monday our son was asked to join a missions team going to Cambodia. He was told that someone on the team had to drop out at the last minute and he was asked to join the group. With about thirty six hours to prepare before they left the country on Wednesday night he called to tell me he would not be here for Thanksgiving dinner with the family. My sweetheart has been elk hunting all week on the opposite corner of our state. He planned to come home on Wednesday to be with the family for Thanksgiving but he called me Tuesday evening to say that he had decided to stay until the rest of his family hunting team headed home on Saturday!

Wednesday morning I woke with the realization that opening our dining room table to add the two leaves is not a one-person job. It requires two people. What to do? By Wednesday evening I decided to try to open it myself so I could set the table. How nice that would have been if it had worked out that way. I was able to open the table about three inches before it balked. Then, little by little, a quarter inch at a time I could open it from one end, run around to the other end, pull and it would open another quarter inch. I knew I would wear myself out if I continued until our very big table was all together and ready to set. So I did a very wise thing. I took a break from that project, worked in the kitchen a bit and then went back to the table dilemna. I was feeling rather proud of myself for the progress I was making. That may have been my problem. Pride! Suddenly, with an opening between the two halves of the table at about twelve inches, the table refused to budge. Not even a bit. It was stuck! No amount of figuring or prompting on my part would convince the table to continue its outward trek. I knew that I had reached the end of what I could do by myself and I wished - oh how I wished my sweetheart would surprise me and walk in the door. Or that my son-in-law would stop by for some reason. But that didn't happen. When my dear little mother arrived yesterday she tried to help me get the stubborn table going again. I sprayed the gears and the track with a lubricant but that didn't help. When that plan didn't succeed my dear mother devised a plan. Plan B! She quickly set the table with three placemats at each end - my daughter and her two children (one granddaughter was out of town) would sit at one end of the table, my daugther-in-law and her two oldest sons would sit at the other end with the baby in the high chair beside her. My dear mother and I would set up two of my wooden TV trays and eat nearby in the living room. The plan for us to all sit around the table and pass the food around suddenly wouldn't work. We decided, given the circumstances, that it would be easier to set up a casual buffet-type serving area on my kitchen counter and let us serve ourselves. Now remember - there was this big gaping hole in the middle of the table. Except for the one leaf that is stored under the table opening. The opening was not big enough to get that leaf out nor to add the second leaf that stood nearby. But the leaf under the opening did provide a place for my dear mother to creatively set up the centerpiece! I was about to add a touch of lace runner through the opening, thinking it would add something, but my dear mother cautioned me that the spray lubicant would ruin my pretty runner. Yes, indeed, it would! So, now new plans were in place. The table was set and the serving arrangements had been changed. Until my daughter arrived and surveyed the situation. She said, 'Mom I think I might be able to help you get this table open.' We explained what had already transpired and that there seemed to be no hope to get the table to budge until her father arrived home on Saturday to find the problem. Suggesting that we try it, she began to 'unset' the table. She pulled on one end and I on the other. One big tug and - Viola! - it worked. The table was opened and leaves added. Now we had to reset the table. That was accomplished. We were back on track and could move on. My daughter-in-law arrived and things began to move quickly in the kitchen. It was soon time for the turkey to come out of the oven. My sweetheart always lifts it out for me because of my back problems. As I leaned over the steaming bird, determined to lift it and carry it to the nearby counter where it would rest until time to cut it, my daughter stopped me and told me not to try to lift it. She moved the turkey to its destination and all of a sudden I realized my sweetheart is the expert 'turkey carver'. A quick survey determined that any of the three of us ladies could carve the bird but it wouldn't be a thing of beauty. As we began to remove the stuffing and inserted the knife into the meat it was evident that while the area tested with my meat thermometer told us the turkey was done to perfection and safety - and while the top of the breast area was definitely completely cooked - the rest of the bird really needed more time in the oven. We decided that there was enough meat to serve and get us started while the big bird went back into the oven for awhile. I drained the juices and made gravy but I must have been distracted in some way because as I poured gravy from the pan into the serving bowl I didn't stop when the bowl was full. I just kept pouring! All over the counter.

A few minutes later I gathered my family in a circle in the kitchen where we joined hands as I gave thanks to God for our family, for the day together (inspite of the problems) and as I prayed for safe-keeping for our three men. The plates were served up and we sat together around the now-put-together table. Thankful. That's what we were. Thankful to be together. As I looked around with joy and pride at each one gathered in my home I couldn't help but realize how truly blessed I have been. Then a hostess-type thought popped into my head - no centerpiece. There's no centerpiece! And we were eating on a plastic tablecloth purchased on sale. A 'cloth' with autumn leaves all over it. In the middle of the crises a decision was made to use this one instead of a real cloth. Suddenly I realized that, while it looked nice in the package, I didn't like it at all. I had envisioned something quite different for my table. Something like. . .

Or simple like this.Now, here I sat at my table - minus the men and the centerpiece - with a plastic tablecloth I suddenly knew I abhored! I think that was when I said, 'Well, it's certainly not a Norman Rockwell moment.'Two things were decided in my mind at that moment. Either my sweetheart would not be allowed to go hunting and extend his stay through Thanksgiving next year. . .or, we would follow my suggestion. In the middle of all the mess I told the girls that I thought next year we should just go out somewhere, sit down and let someone else serve us!Later in the afternoon, after the dishes were done and we ladies were seated in my living room as the children played nearby, I asked my grandchildren to tell me one thing they were thankful for. Mr. R. said he was thankful for good food. Mr. G. said he was thankful for God and for Jesus dying on the cross for us. When asked, Mr. C. said he didn't know - he's the shy one. Miss E. told me she was thankful for her mother. Mr. H. was too little to understand or answer. He just knew that his little tummy was full and that he is loved. A lot. And what was I thankful for? Each of the beautiful children who gathered in my home yesterday. And for the privilege of having my dear little mother in my life. . .and my daughter who is the sweetest lady a mother could hope to also call friend. . .and my precious daughter-in-law who is truly a gift from God to our family. As we reflected and laughed about the craziness of the day my heart was full of gratitude and praise to God because I know that I am blessed. Very blessed. And I give Him thanks. . .with a grateful heart.

(The plastic tablecloth? It has been cleaned thoroughly and added to a box of things headed to the thrift store where, hopefully, someone will think it's beautiful and will grace their table with it sometime!

We Are So Blessed

We are so blessed

By the gifts from Your hand.

We just can't understand

Why You love us so much.

We are so blessed,

We just can't find a way

Or the words that can say

Thank You, Lord, for Your touch.

When we're empty You fill us

'Til we overflow.

When we're hungry You feed us,

And cause us to know

We are so blessed -

Take what we have to bring;

Take it all, everything.

Lord, we love you so much.

We are so blessed

By the things You have done,

The vict'ries we've won

And what You've brought us through.

We are so blessed,

Take what we have to bring;

Take it all, everything.

Lord, we bring it to You.

When we're empty You fill us

'Til we overflow.

When we're hungry You feed us

And cause us to know

We are so blessed -

Take what we have to bring;

Take it all, everything.

Lord we love You so much.

We are truly blessed! Happy Thanksgiving to you, my dear friends. You are some of the most precious blessings God has given me. May you and yours have a 'blessed' day today.

Song: 'We Are So Blessed'
Written by Bill and Gloria Gaither

A Birthday - Of Sorts

Sometime very early in my life my dear parents realized there was music in my soul just waiting to get out. They observed as I 'played the piano' on the back of the car seat, the arm of a chair, a table - anywhere my imagination could create a piano. Then came the day we moved with my minister father to a sweet little bungalow parsonage where a piano was waiting in the living room. The piano belonged to the church and had been placed in our living room because a Sunday School class met there each Sunday morning and the piano was needed during that time. Ah-h-h, sweet delight! A piano. A real piano. In my home - all the time. And oh, what fun I had at that piano. I attended kindergarten each morning and soon after returning home I was at the piano where I hummed the first note of a song learned in class. While holding the first note of the song with my voice I hunted for the corresponding note on the keyboard. Once found I began to figure out how to play the melody and soon I was beginning to play little songs 'by ear'.

Our church had the most gifted pianist who just happened to also teach piano lessons in her home. I was enchanted with her skills during each church service and soon I began to pray (secretly, of course) each night in my bed, 'Lord, when I wake up tomorrow morning could I please play the piano just like Miss B?' Now I know what you're thinking - it doesn't come that easy. But my little girl mind didn't know better. I was sure if I prayed and believed it would happen. It would! Time moved on - and so did the big piano in the living room. I was moved next door into the church where it was needed for another group. Now my only chance to play a 'real' piano was to walk next door to the church and play my little heart out in the quiet of the big building. And I did exactly that. Often. Stepping out the back door of the parsonage I only had to walk a few steps to the back door of the church, into my father's study and out through another door onto the platform in the sanctuary. And believe me, I did that often.

My parents longed to give me piano lessons and soon it was discussed with Miss B who told them I could not begin lessons until I had completed first grade and started second grade. Her reasoning? I needed to learn to sit still and focus - and I needed to understand basic counting and arithmetic skills in order to capture the idea of counting out rhythm. My little heart was crushed. I had to wait! I was a bright child and I knew how to count and add a few numbers. And I was convinced if I tried very hard I could sit still. Honest I could!

Soon the day came that I had waited for so long. My first lesson with Miss B. I was absolutely thrilled as I began to learn to read the notes and play them on the piano. I still have my very first piano book and it always brings back the joy those early lessons added to my happy heart. Along with lessons comes practice. Daily practice. Remember, at this point there was no piano in my home. No problem - there was one right next door. A piano sitting unused much of the week. There was the answer. So each day after school I walked across the driveway into the big church building and sat at the piano on the platform to practice my lesson - every little song six times through. My father was usually in his study when I went next door to practice or, if he needed to be away, my mother went with me. What a good arrangement - until winter chill arrived and filled the big building. You see, there was no central heating in this church building. It was heated for services by a huge wood furnace in the basement. Someone had to start the fire long before service time in order to heat the large, old, uninsulated building. During the week when the building was not in use there was no heat! None. Except for the little pot-bellied wood stove in my father's study just off the platform. Oh, I forgot to tell you that we lived in a little town high in the Cascade Mountains of Oregon. Snow country. All winter! Now put together snow and freezing temperatures, an unheated building and a little girl's need to practice her piano lessons each afternoon and what do you get? Br-r-r!!! No problem. I wanted this so badly I was willing to sacrifice and do what I needed to do. So, through the winter months I would put on warm gloves just before I walked over to the church to practice. The gloves came off my little hands and I played until my hands were so cold I couldn't continue. Then I made a quick dash into my father's study where a warm fire awaited in the little stove. As I stood there warming I hands I had a few moments with my father. An added bonus! Then when my hands were warmed I ran back into the sanctuary to do more practice. This continued until I was finished each day. Practice for a bit, run to the wood stove to warm my hands, practice, warm hands and on and on it went.

My dear parents were dismayed and they were praying that somehow God would provide a piano at home for me. Now what I haven't told you yet is that God was already setting things in order. A wonderful little widow lady in our church was a piano dealer. She had continued the business after her husband died and she offered my parents a wonderful discount on a piano for me. Out of her love and respect for my father's ministry - plus the fact that I delighted her heart because she was raising four sons and she loved me much. She made an offer not to be refused. One day my dear mother went to the piano store and selected the perfect piano for me - and perfect for my mother's living room. The process wasn't that simple. The piano was chosen, the order was placed and I had to wait several weeks for the it to be shipped to our home. Oh, that was a long time to wait.

As long as I live I'll never forget the day my piano arrived! It arrived in a big wooden crate. A crate that wouldn't fit through the front door of our home. So the delivery men uncrated it and set it on the sidewalk while they, along with my father, removed the front door from it's hinges in order to get the piano into the living room. Now what would an eager seven-year-old do when the piano she has been waiting for is just sitting on the sidewalk? And the piano bench is sitting nearby? Play the piano on the sidewalk, of course! I put the bench in place, sat myself down and began to play what I had just learned and memorized in my lessons. I played the hymn 'Let The Lower Lights Be Burning'. Over and over again. My heart was delighted - my piano had arrived. It didn't matter that it needed to be tuned. It didn't matter that it was on the sidewalk and the whole world could hear me play. Nothing matter at that moment. It was just me - and my piano.

The years moved along rather quickly and suddenly, it seemed, I was planning my wedding. During that time my parents asked what I wanted for a wedding gift. Was there something special they could give me? Yes, I wanted my piano. Why should I need to ask? Neither of them played. All of my years growing up with my piano my father had lovingly told me that when a young man asked me to marry him someday I needed to ask him if he would buy me a piano. If his answer was yes, I could marry him; if not, I should say no and keep waiting for someone else who would include a piano in 'the deal'! But now I was going to marry a young man who could not provide a piano in the foreseeable future. We would be living several hours from my parents' home and it nearly broke my heart to think of not taking my piano with me. There was much discussion about the piano being my wedding gift but in the end the piano moved with me when I moved to my first home with my sweetheart. My piano and I have travelled many miles together through the years. We have lived together in several homes in different parts of Oregon. But we have been together. Always together. In the early years of our marriage I told my sweetheart, 'If the house catches fire, you get the piano out - I'll get the children!'

Did I forget to tell you that the day my piano arrived on the sidewalk outside my home so many years ago was the day before Thanksgiving? So that's why today I celebrate the 'birthday' of my piano. Every year I quietly say happy birthday to this dear friend and I spend just a little quiet time alone with my piano. What do I play each year? A number of songs but always among them you will hear the melody of that old hymn played so long ago on the sidewalk of my youth. If you wander by my house sometime today you just might hear 'Let The Lower Lights Be Burning'. And if you listen very carefully you may hear me humming, too.

(Would you pray for my dear son today as he and eight other members of a team from his church fly to Cambodia where they will build a church? They will be gone for ten days.)

Dancing With The Angels

Thank you to each of you for your messages of condolance and comfort. They mean more than words can express. Today we will say our final goodbyes to my sweetheart's dear stepmother. Even though we say goodbye here on earth we will hold her close in our hearts forever. She touched our lives in ways we never dreamed possible and we will never be the same again. A day or two ago I called her dear daughter just to chat and see how she was doing. Her first words were 'Mom is dancing with the angels'! These words came to mind.

Memories surround me

But sadness has found me

I’d do anything for more time

Never before has someone meant more

And I can’t get you out of my mind

There is so much that I don’t understand

But I know…

You’re dancing with the angels

Walking in new life

You’re dancing with the angels

Heaven fills your eyes

Now that you’re dancing with the angels

You had love for your family

Love for all people

Love for the Father, and Son

Your heart will be heard

In your unspoken words

Through generations to come

There is so much that I don’t understand

But I know. . .

You're dancing with the angels

Walking in new life

You're dancing with the angels

Heaven fills your eyes

Now that you're dancing with the angels

We’re only here for such a short time

So I’m gonna’ stand up, shout out,

And sing Hallelujah

One day I’ll see you again

And we'll be dancing with the angels

Walking in new life

We'll be dancing with the angels

Heaven fills our eyes

When we're dancing with the angels

Song 'Dancing With The Angels'

Recorded by Monk and Neagle

In A Fog

We woke to fog and cold temperatures this morning. Mid-morning and not much change. Since a picture is supposed to be worth a thousand words here are a few thousand 'words' to give you an idea why I've chosen to work inside today.

(That's ice on the web!)