Christmas Eve 1942

It was Christmas Eve 1942. I was fifteen years old and feeling like the world had caved in on me because there just hadn't been enough money to buy me the rifle that I'd wanted for Christmas.

We did the chores early that night for some reason. I just figured Daddy wanted a little extra time so we could read in the Bible. After supper was over I took my boots off and stretched out in front of the fireplace and waited for Daddy to get down the old Bible.

I was still feeling sorry for myself and, to be honest, I wasn't in much of a mood to read Scriptures. But Daddy didn't get the Bible instead he bundled up again and went outside. I couldn't figure it out because we had already done all the chores. I didn't worry about it long though I was too busy wallowing in self-pity.

Soon he came back in. It was a cold clear night out and there was ice in his beard. "Come on, Matt," he said. "Bundle up good, it's cold out tonight." I was really upset then. Not only wasn't I getting the rifle for Christmas, now he was dragging me out in the cold, and for no earthly reason that I could see. We'd already done all the chores, and I couldn't think of anything else that needed doing, especially not on a night like this. But I knew he was not very patient at one dragging one's feet when he'd told them to do something, so I got up and put my boots back on and got my coat. Mommy gave me a mysterious smile as I opened the door to leave the house. Something was up, but I didn't know what..

Outside, I became even more dismayed. There in front of the house was the work team, already hitched to the big sled. Whatever it was we were going to do wasn't going to be a short, quick, little job. I could tell. We never hitched up this sled unless we were going to haul a big load. Daddy was already up on the seat, reins in hand. I reluctantly climbed up beside him. The cold was already biting at me. I wasn't happy. When I was on, Daddy pulled the sled around the house and stopped in front of the woodshed. He got off and I followed.

"I think we'll put on the high sideboards," he said. "Here, help me." The high sideboards! It had been a bigger job than I wanted to do with just the low sideboards on, but whatever it was we were going to do would be a lot bigger with the high side boards on.

Then Daddy went into the woodshed and came out with an armload of wood - the wood I'd spent all summer hauling down from the mountain, and then all Fall sawing into blocks and splitting. What was he doing? Finally I said something. I asked, "what are you doing?" You been by the Widow Jensen's lately?" he asked. Mrs.Jensen lived about two miles down the road. Her husband had died a year or so before and left her with three children, the oldest being eight. Sure, I'd been by, but so what?

Yeah," I said, "Why?"

"I rode by just today," he said. "Little Jakey was out digging around in the woodpile trying to find a few chips. They're out of wood, Matt." That was all he said and then he turned and went back into the woodshed for another armload of wood. I followed him. We loaded the sled so high that I began to wonder if the horses would be able to pull it. Finally, he called a halt to our loading then we went to the smoke house and he took down a big ham and a side of bacon. He handed them to me and told me to put them in the sled and wait. When he returned he was carrying a sack of flour over his right shoulder and a smaller sack of something in his left hand.

"What's in the little sack?" I asked. Shoes, they're out of shoes. Little Jakey just had gunny sacks wrapped around his feet when he was out in the woodpile this morning. I got the children a little candy too. It just wouldn't be Christmas without a little candy."

We rode the two miles to Mrs.Jensen's pretty much in silence. I tried to think through what Daddy was doing. We didn't have much by worldly standards. Of course, we did have a big woodpile, though most of what was left now was still in the form of logs that I would have to saw into blocks and split before we could use it. We also had meat and flour, so we could spare that, but I knew we didn't have any money, so why was he buying them shoes and candy? Really, why was he doing any of this? Widow Jensen had closer neighbors than us; it shouldn't have been our concern.

We came in from the blind side of the Jensen house and unloaded the wood as quietly as possible then we took the meat and flour and shoes to the door. We knocked. The door opened a crack and a timid voice said, "Who is it?" "Lucas Miles, Ma'am, and my son, Matt, could we come in for a bit?"

Mrs.Jensen opened the door and let us in. She had a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. The children were wrapped in another and were sitting in front of the fireplace by a very small fire that hardly gave off any heat at all. Mrs.Jensen fumbled with a match and finally lit the lamp.

"We brought you a few things, Ma'am," Daddy said and set down the sack of flour. I put the meat on the table. Then he handed her the sack that had the shoes in it. She opened it hesitantly and took the shoes out one pair at a time. There was a pair for her and one for each of the children - sturdy shoes, the best, shoes that would last. I watched her carefully. She bit her lower lip to keep it from trembling and then tears filled her eyes and started running down her cheeks. She looked up at my Daddy like she wanted to say something, but it wouldn't come out.

"We brought a load of wood too, Ma'am," he said. Then turned to me and said, "Matt, go bring in enough to last awhile. Let's get that fire up to size and heat this place up." I wasn't the same person when I went back out to bring in the wood. I had a big lump in my throat and as much as I hate to admit it, there were tears in my eyes too. In my mind I kept seeing those three kids huddled around the fireplace and their mother standing there with tears running down her cheeks with so much gratitude in her heart that she couldn't speak.

My heart swelled within me and a joy that I'd never known before filled my soul. I had given at Christmas many times before, but never when it had made so much difference. I could see we were literally saving the lives of these people.

I soon had the fire blazing and everyone's spirits soared. The kids started giggling when Daddy handed them each a piece of candy and Mrs.Jensen looked on with a smile that probably hadn't crossed her face for a long time. She finally turned to us. "God bless you," she said. "I know the Lord has sent you. The children and I have been praying that he would send one of his angels to spare us."

In spite of myself, the lump returned to my throat and the tears welled up in my eyes again. I'd never thought of my Daddy in those exact terms before, but after Widow Jensen mentioned it I could see that it was probably true. I was sure that a better man than Daddy had never walked the earth. I started remembering all the times he had gone out of his way for Mommy and me, and many others. The list seemed endless as I thought on it.

Daddy insisted that everyone try on the shoes before we left. I was amazed when they all fit and I wondered how he had known what sizes to get. Then I guessed that if he was on an errand for the Lord that the Lord would make sure he got the right sizes.

Tears were running down Widow Jensen's face again when we stood up to leave. My Daddy took each of the kids in his big arms and gave them a hug. They clung to him and didn't want us to go. I could see that they missed their Daddy and I was glad that I still had mine.

At the door he turned to Widow Jensen and said, "The Mrs. wanted me to invite you and the children over for Christmas dinner tomorrow. The turkey will be more than the three of us can eat, and a man can get cantankerous if he has to eat turkey for too many meals. We'll be by to get you about eleven. It'll be nice to have some little ones around again. Matt, here, hasn't been little for quite a spell." I was the youngest. My two brothers and two sisters had all married and had moved away.

Mrs.Jensen nodded and said, "Thank you, Brother Miles. I don't have to say, May the Lord bless you, I know for certain that He will."

Out on the sled I felt a warmth that came from deep within and I didn't even notice the cold. When we had gone a ways, Daddy turned to me and said, "Matt, I want you to know something. Your Mother and me have been tucking a little money away here and there all year so we could buy that rifle for you, but we didn't have quite enough.

Then yesterday a man who owed me a little money from years back came by to make things square. Your Mom and me were real excited, thinking that now we could get you that rifle, and I started into town this morning to do just that, but on the way I saw little Jakey out scratching in the woodpile with his feet wrapped in those gunny sacks and I knew what I had to do. Son, I spent the money for shoes and a little candy for those children. I hope you understand."

I understood, and my eyes became wet with tears again. I understood very well, and I was so glad Daddy had done it. Now the rifle seemed very low on my list of priorities. He had given me a lot more. He had given me the look on Mrs. Jensen's face and the radiant smiles of her three children. For the rest of my life, Whenever I saw any of the Jensens, or split a block of wood, I remembered, and remembering brought back that same joy I felt riding home beside of my Daddy that night. He had given me much more than a rifle that night, he had given me the best Christmas of my life..

Harvey Patterson

Facebook

Angus & Julia Stone - For you

Greta Thunberg’s perfect petroleum-free world

One crisp winter morning in Sweden, a cute little girl named Greta woke up to a perfect world, one in which there were no petroleum products ruining the earth. She tossed aside her cotton sheet and wool blanket and stepped out onto a dirt floor covered with willow bark that had been pulverized with rocks.

“What’s this?” she asked.

“Pulverized willow bark,” replied her fairy godmother.

“What happened to the carpet?” she asked.

“The carpet was nylon, which is made from butadiene and hydrogen cyanide, both made from petroleum,” came the response.

Greta smiled, acknowledging that adjustments are necessary to save the planet, and moved to the sink to brush her teeth where instead of a toothbrush, she found a willow, mangled on one end to expose wood fiber bristles.

“Your old toothbrush?” noted her godmother, “Also nylon.”

“Where’s the water?” asked Greta.

“Down the road in the canal,” replied her godmother, ‘Just make sure you avoid water with cholera in it”

“Why’s there no running water?” Greta asked, becoming a little peevish.

“Well,” said her godmother, who happened to teach engineering at MIT, “Where do we begin?” There followed a long monologue about how sink valves need elastomer seats and how copper pipes contain copper, which has to be mined and how it’s impossible to make all-electric earth-moving equipment with no gear lubrication or tires and how ore has to be smelted to make metal, and that’s tough to do with only electricity as a source of heat, and even if you use only electricity, the wires need insulation, which is petroleum-based, and though most of Sweden’s energy is produced in an environmentally friendly way because of hydro and nuclear, if you do a mass and energy balance around the whole system, you still need lots of petroleum products like lubricants and nylon and rubber for tires and asphalt for filling potholes and wax and iPhone plastic and elastic to hold your underwear up while operating a copper smelting furnace and . . .

“What’s for breakfast?” interjected Greta, whose head was hurting.

“Fresh, range-fed chicken eggs,” replied her godmother. “Raw.”

“How so, raw?” inquired Greta.

“Well, . . .” And once again, Greta was told about the need for petroleum products like transformer oil and scores of petroleum products essential for producing metals for frying pans and in the end was educated about how you can’t have a petroleum-free world and then cook eggs. Unless you rip your front fence up and start a fire and carefully cook your egg in an orange peel like you do in Boy Scouts. Not that you can find oranges in Sweden anymore.

“But I want poached eggs like my Aunt Tilda makes,” lamented Greta.

I’d like to take credit for this, but I didn’t write it:

“Tilda died this morning,” the godmother explained. “Bacterial pneumonia.”

“What?!” interjected Greta. “No one dies of bacterial pneumonia! We have penicillin.”

“Not anymore,” explained godmother “The production of penicillin requires chemical extraction using isobutyl acetate, which, if you know your organic chemistry, is petroleum-based. Lots of people are dying, which is problematic because there’s not an easy way of disposing of the bodies since backhoes need hydraulic oil and crematoriums can’t really burn many bodies using as fuel Swedish fences and furniture, which are rapidly disappearing – being used on the black market for roasting eggs and staying warm.”

This represents only a fraction of Greta’s day, a day without microphones to exclaim into and a day without much food, and a day without carbon-fiber boats to sail in, but a day that will save the planet.

Tune in tomorrow when Greta needs a root canal and learns how Novocain is synthesized.

...I Am Not the Author of This - Author is unknown.

Sheep Dog

 

This Sheep Dog is covered in his own blood after fighting off Wolves protecting his flock, while the sheep gently comforts him. The Dog is willing to die for his Sheep, and the gesture of the Sheep comforting him is all he needs.

Regardless of how physically strong or emotionally tough someone is, showing them how much you appreciate their efforts goes a long way. Never take someone for granted who is willing to fight for you or stand by you in your time of need. Appreciate their efforts, and show them that you are grateful...

Source: Facebook - Daily Dose of Kindness

Southern Gospel Revival: Jamie Wilson - I Can't Even Walk

Solitary Life

Yesterday I had a letter from a young woman who is living alone, a film maker of some reputation. She wants to do a film on people who live alone, and will come next week to talk about her plans. I gather she has some doubts about the solitary life. I told her that I feel it is not for the young (she is only thirty-three). I did not begin to live alone till I was forty-five, and had “lived” in the sense of passionate friendships and love affairs very richly for twenty-five years. I had a huge amount of life to think about and to digest, and, above all, I was a person by then and knew what I wanted of my life. The people we love are built into us. Every day I am suddenly aware of something someone taught me long ago — or just yesterday — of some certainty and self-awareness that grew out of conflict with someone I loved enough to try to encompass, however painful that effort may have been.

May Sarton

The House by the Sea

Art: Photograph by Andreas Feininger

Source: Facebook - Philo Thoughts

Nobody talks about this.

 

Nobody talks about this.

Nobody talks about after you finally heal from a traumatizing relationship.

When you have taken the time to concentrate on yourself and you are finally in a place where you're done healing and you are ready to step out into the dating world again, it's nearly impossible to find someone because you see the red flags in everybody.

You see so many things you're not willing to compromise with because you actually trust your intuition.

You can see when things are an issue with people, and you know you won't be able to get over it later on in that relationship.

So you don't allow your feelings to get in the way of logic and just cut it off before it even gets to that point.

Then you realize how many people aren't actually working on themselves and are just seeking a shallow connection.

They aren't even looking to improve themselves as a partner in a relationship, and they think their perfectly fine the way they are.

So there's no room to grow into a relationship together because they are already set in their ways.

It's a little exhausting at times because you also feel lonely during all of this and that sadness can take a toll on you but you have to remember one thing .....

It's better to be single with high standards than in a relationship settling for less.

~ Cody Bret, Facebook

The Sounds of silence. Vanessa James and Morgan Cipres

As someone posted on Youtube: "There are few things in life that make you cry from it's absolute beauty. This is one."

The way people view you.

The way people view you.

Sometimes I think about the different characters I play in everybody’s story.

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I’m a terrible person in some people's narratives and a Godsend in others.

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And none of it has anything to do with the person I truly am.

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The lens that others view you through is coloured by their upbringing, beliefs, and individual experiences.

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Some people see your bright personality as endearing and others see it as annoying.

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Some people think you’re weak and emotional and others feel safe to be themselves around you.

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Some people think you’re rude and selfish and others respect the way you stand up for yourself.

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Some people admire the way you take pride in the way you look and others think you’re conceited.

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And none of it has to do with who you truly are as a person.

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What you have to understand is that you have no authority over how people view you so never try to control the way others see you because the only thing that truly matters when the dust settles down at the end of the day is what you genuinely see in yourself.

Cody Bret

I wonder, will I ever really know that I am old?

 

As I gather parchment skin,

between finger and thumb,

I wonder,

did I ever really know

that I was young?

As I dance and seize the day,

my eyelids painted gold,

I wonder,

will I ever really know

that I am old?

Donna Ashworth

Art by Jonas Peterson

My new book ‘wild Hope’ is available to pre-order

Are you....?

Are you truly lazy

Or are you simply in the process of resting and recovering from all that you have been through?

Are you truly procrastinating

Or are you simply prioritising what your soul finds more valuable, enriching and uplifting?

Are you truly sad

Or are you simply purging and releasing your emotions?

Are you truly broken

Or are you simply in the process of healing from past experiences and rebuilding your life?

Are you truly antisocial

Or are you simply undergoing a period of self-discovery and learning to fully embrace and enjoy your own company?

Are you truly naive

Or do you simply have an open heart and look for the best in other people?

Are you truly a loner

Or are you simply someone who prefers to spend more time alone in solitude?

Are you weak and overly emotional

Or are you simply someone with heightened sensitivity and a greater capacity to feel emotions?

Are you truly a workaholic

Or are you simply someone with great, ambitious dreams, a clear life purpose and an incredible work ethic?

Are you truly a “bitch”

Or are you simply good at standing up for yourself when necessary

And setting clear boundaries?

Are you truly ugly

Or are you simply someone who doesn’t conform to the unattainable, artificial beauty standards of society and is uniquely beautiful in their own way?

Are you truly weird, quirky or different

Or are you simply someone who possesses their own characteristic traits in a world filled with billions of people who differ from one another?

And are you going to allow others to define you

By placing all of these labels on you

Or are you going to choose to define yourself?

Words by Tahlia Hunter on Facebook

Artwork by Claudia Tremblay

Thank You, Lord

Dancing Flowers

Find something to be grateful for!

DEPRESSION TIPS:

Shower. Not a bath, a shower.

Use water as hot or cold as you like. You don’t even need to wash. Just get in under the water and let it run over you for a while. Sit on the floor if you gotta.

Moisturize everything.

Use whatever lotion you like.

Unscented? Dollar store lotion? Fancy 48 hour lotion that makes you smell like a field of wildflowers? Use whatever you want, and use it all over your entire dermis.

Put on clean, comfortable clothes.

Put on your favorite underwear.

Cute black lacy panties? Those ridiculous boxers you bought last christmas with candy cane hearts on the butt? Put them on.

Drink cold water.

Use ice. If you want, add some mint or lemon for an extra boost.

Clean something.

Doesn’t have to be anything big. Organize one drawer of a desk. Wash five dirty dishes. Do a load of laundry. Scrub the bathroom sink.

Blast music.

Listen to something upbeat and dancey and loud, something that’s got lots of energy. Sing to it, dance to it, even if you suck at both.

Make food.

Don’t just grab a granola bar to munch. Take the time and make food. Even if it’s ramen. Add something special to it, like a soft boiled egg or some veggies. Prepare food, it tastes way better, and you’ll feel like you accomplished something.

Make something.

Write a short story or a poem, draw a picture, color a picture, fold origami, crochet or knit, sculpt something out of clay, anything artistic. Even if you don’t think you’re good at it. Create.

Go outside.

Take a walk. Sit in the grass. Look at the clouds. Smell flowers. Put your hands in the dirt and feel the soil against your skin.

Call someone.

Call a loved one, a friend, a family member, call a chat service if you have no one else to call. Talk to a stranger on the street. Have a conversation and listen to someone’s voice. If you can’t bring yourself to call, text or email or whatever, just have some social interaction with another person. Even if you don’t say much, listen to them. It helps.

Cuddle your pets if you have them/can cuddle them.

Take pictures of them. Talk to them. Tell them how you feel, about your favorite movie, a new game coming out, anything.

May seem small or silly to some, but this list keeps people alive.

*** At your absolute best you won’t be good enough for the wrong people. But at your worst, you’ll still be worth it to the right ones. Remember that. Keep holding on.

*** In case nobody has told you today I love you and you are worth your weight and then some in gold, so be kind to yourself and most of all keep pushing on!!!!

Find something to be grateful for!

#SuicideAwareness #HaveARealConversation #988Lifeline

I naturally run dark.

 

I don’t write because I am brimming with sunshine. I write because I naturally run dark.

And those of us who run dark, who feel hard, who see everything; must work at that disposition in order to survive.

I write to remind myself that living with kindness as my lead changes everything, quite like magic. And if there is magic in this life, that is surely it.

I write to remind myself that the only way, the only way, to combat the losses of this life, is to love harder.

And by reminding myself. it seems to remind you too. And for that I am so grateful because I have found myself a place in this world that is born solely of the fact that for almost 5 decades I have been ‘too much’, ‘too sensitive’ and ‘difficult’.

So, if you are any of these things and you are trying to change. Perhaps you need to harness them instead of nail them shut in a box in your heart.

Perhaps these things are not that bad after all. But society convinced you they are, much like we are told we mustn’t age, or grow, or take up space.

Maybe these parts of you will save someone else one day.

Or maybe they already have… and you didn’t stop to see how amazing that truly is because we must keep running on that treadmill.

I don’t write because I am sunshine in human form.

I write to save the dark from taking over.

That war must always be managed - it’s never won,

but it’s never, EVER, lost either.

And that is enough.

Because whilst my bleeding heart has suffered along the way, it also feels such beauty. And feels it so deeply that the joy of it can feel like pain.

And I’ve learned to love that too. Just like I’ve learned to love myself for all the things they told me to change.

I hope you learn to love something ‘bad’ about yourself today. I think they can be your finest traits.

~ Donna Ashworth

Facebook: Donna Ashworth

We are not meant to stay wounded.

We are not meant to stay wounded. We are supposed to move through our tragedies and challenges and to help each other move through the many painful episodes of our lives. By remaining stuck in the power of our wounds, we block our own transformation. We overlook the greater gifts inherent in our wounds — the strength to overcome them and the lessons that we are meant to receive through them. Wounds are the means through which we enter the hearts of other people. They are meant to teach us to become compassionate and wise.

~ Caroline Myss

Source: Facebook - Cosmic Dancer

Art: Charito Gil @charito_gil_digital_artist

One smile has the power to...

One smile has the power to...

Calm fears.

Soften stone walls.

Warm a cold heart.

Invite a new friend.

Mimic a loving hug.

Beautify the bearer.

Lighten heavy loads.

Promote good deeds.

Brighten a gloomy day.

Comfort a grieving spirit.

Offer hope to the forlorn.

Send a message of caring.

Lift the downtrodden soul.

Patch up invisible wounds.

Weaken the hold of misery.

Act as medicine for suffering.

Attract the companionship of angels.

Fulfill the human need for recognition.

Who knew changing the world would prove so simple?

~ Richelle E. Goodrich ~

Art by the wonderful Lisa Aisato

Source: Facebook - Faye Rogers Animal Communicator

The Journey

One day you finally knew

what you had to do, and began,

though the voices around you

kept shouting

their bad advice --

though the whole house

began to tremble

and you felt the old tug

at your ankles.

"Mend my life!"

each voice cried.

But you didn't stop.

You knew what you had to do,

though the wind pried

with its stiff fingers

at the very foundations,

though their melancholy

was terrible.

It was already late

enough, and a wild night,

and the road full of fallen

branches and stones.

But little by little,

as you left their voice behind,

the stars began to burn

through the sheets of clouds,

and there was a new voice

which you slowly

recognized as your own,

that kept you company

as you strode deeper and deeper

into the world,

determined to do

the only thing you could do --

determined to save

the only life that you could save.

~ Mary Oliver

[Art: Andrea Kowch]

Source: Facebook - Cosmic Dancer

I'll Fly Away - Ransomed Bluegrass

I posted this 10 years ago today.

I posted this 10 years ago today. God gave my sister 35 more years and counting. 

August 12, 2013 · 

So I get a text earlier today from one of my sisters reminding me of the anniversary. I hate cancer.

Twenty- five years ago today, one of my younger sisters was taken into surgery after being diagnosed with Ewing's Sarcoma, a childhood cancer aka long bone cancer. She wasn't a child. She was a married woman in her early 20's with a small child of her own. The tumor had appeared on the top of the femur, in her hip area and had started to grow rapidly causing severe pain. The intense pain is the only reason they found the tumor. We were told they would have to remove her leg and hip along with the tumor to rid her of the cancer.

When the doctors spoke to us after the surgery, they said they took an enormous amount of tissue surrounding the tumor, but opted not to remove her leg or hip. In the following weeks and months, she went through chemotherapy and radiation and lost weight rapidly. She seemed to lose half her body weight and she did lose all of her hair. She had to have regular blood transfusions. As I recall, she had to be

quarantined in ICU a few times because her white cell count was low, making her ability to fight infection none existent.

About halfway through her therapy, they found pre-cancerous nodules in her lungs. The news was devastating. She had been through so much and now to be told she had the nodules in her lungs, and told in such a way we had no choice but to believe they would most likely turn cancerous given her weakened state. But they continued treatment. She was given so much chemotherapy drugs, they would give her

medication to make her sleep through the effects. I remember days Mom and I had to carry her the few steps to the car. Sometimes she couldn't remember waking up to puke the poison from her body and would be in a drugged, restless sleep for 24 hours after a session. Sometimes longer.

When we learned it was cancer I was at a loss for words. I agonized over what to say to her on my first visit after we learned of the cancer. I began to pray intently asking for mercy for her and guidance for myself. When I entered that hospital still not knowing what I would say to her, I made a detour to the gift shop in the hospital lobby. I don't know that I made the conscious choice of the gift I bought her. I truly believe I had help with that decision. I walked into her room with a heavy heart and handed her the gift I had bought, only telling her I loved her. I'm not really sure if any other words were spoken during that visit.

The text was from the sister who had surgery 25 years ago today! The gift, a Bible. If you see a short, forty something woman in Indianapolis with no butt cheek on one side, it might be my sister! Please wish her Happy Anniversary!