Archive for December, 2010

“Even in the darkness

Every color can be found

And every day of rain

Brings water flowing

To things growing in the ground”

I’ve heard it before on Dr. Horrible’s Sing along Blog
This link is only for act 1, but you can continue watching them if you like it (Or watch freely on Netflix!). It is really good.
Great music and just plain fun.


I heard the lyrics clearly this morning and I thought to myself how much I liked that line. Hope and a new way of looking at things.
So I’m documenting it here. 🙂


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Bringing in the New Year

It’s that time again.
Bringing in the New Year….
It’s not really a holiday I understand. Why stay up until midnight, drinking and carrying on (and for some “and on and on and on”) just to welcome in the New year.

Is it more of a welcome? Or a Thank God we made it? Or maybe even a little bit of both. My best New Years were spent playing Pinochle with my sister and brother-in-law. Living in Georgia, I really miss that evening filled with a glass or two of port wine, laughter and cheating.

Yes I said Cheating.. lol. It was half the fun, sitting across the table from my sister-in-law and asking.. “Soooooo Did you see that gardener yesterday?” meaning spades, While she replied, “Yes He took my breath away and possibly even stole my heart… ”
Then we’d laugh and get down to real playing

It was all blatant and in good fun. The goal was not so much the win, as it was just enjoying the game.
Which I will have you no was Not the case when playing with the parents (either set, Mine or his).
For the Male Parents it was all about counting the cards, paying attention to what was played and WINNING above all. I think the Female parents would have enjoyed our table-talk as much as we did.

This New Year we’re going to head off to the family’s favorite Electronic store Frys. (thank God there is a coffee shop in the middle of it.) and let everyone wander about and drool, adding item after item to their wish-list and even spending hard-earned cash on some coveted item that they decided that they couldn’t live with out.
Then we’ll grab a bite to eat and head home.

Traditionally New Years Eve is pizza night. Home made pizza filled with a variety of toppings, cooked up and set out on the table for a night of grazing, video games and/or movie watching, until I’m too tired to keep my eyes open.

I guess we’ll see how it plays out, I’ll have the toppings set up just in case.

I am so totally grateful for all of you! I wish for you a Happy New Year, filled to overflowing with all the things we need and only a few things we actually deserve. 😉

Happy Welcoming to the year 2011, May we focus on all the things we have, those who love us, and the opportunities that will unfold before us, and ignore the rest of the garbage (wants and desires, envies and jealousies) that fills up the rest of the space.

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Good Morning!

Have you ever had such a bitterly cold night that you just simply couldn’t get warm? That’s how I was last night. No matter what I did; rubbing my feet together, laying them next to the dog, placing them on the legs of my poor hubby, nothing worked. It was terrible! The simple thing would have been to get up and get a blanket, but I was stuck in that limbo between sleep and wakefulness, where all I could do was whine..

Then my hubby, in all his goodness and wisdom, got up and put an extra blanket on the bottom of the bed. In moments I was out like a light and he could finally go to back sleep as well. 😉

This Morning I am up, bright-eyed and ready to face the day!

It got me to thinking though, about people. You know those people you meet that just NEVER have a good word to say about anything. If for instance, in the middle of the drought it starts raining, Instead of responding “Thank God” or even “YAY!” Their response is more like, “I hate clouds they make the day so dreary. or Imagine the accidents it will cause on the road.”

It’s like a magnetic pull toward the negative.

You say “The beauty of the snow falling on Christmas Morning” and they hear, “Imagine all the accidents that will happen because of the sleet” , You say, “The birth of a child…” and they hear, “Oh the Bills!!!!” and “Let’s not even talk about teenage years..”.
You understand what I’m saying… We all know or have met people like that.

I think their spirit is cold, with too many disappointments, traumas, crisis, or simply self-pity. They have dug themselves into a rut in the cold bed, and can’t get warm or find a way out.

I think its up to us to offer that blanket. A kind word, a gentle hand, a hug and a smile or more importantly a prayer for these people to find their way in the world.
It is my opinion that those people who are mean and negative are that way because they are unhappy. If we show them that there is something to be happy about … perhaps we’re offering them a way out of that rut. And even if this step doesn’t take them out of their spiritual rut, it does bring them closer to seeing the good in the world, and it is good for our spirit. By helping others, we help ourselves.

I offer a challenge – Walk up to five different people today, simply smile and say “Good Morning,” or “Hello” The trend of world is to isolate ourselves from everyone else, by status, religion, race, job, or whatever. We feel so alone. The simple act of acknowledging their presence will go a long way toward warming people up.

Now the time for my gratitudes.
I am sooooo grateful to be able to volunteer at the church. It gives me the opportunity to interact with so many more people. People that I normally wouldn’t get the chance to meet and say hi to, chat with a bit, or in the end, become friends with. It is such a blessing to me to be able to share the sunshine of the day or the warmth of the heater, a kind word or a friendly smile.

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‘Twas the night before Christmas & out on the ranch

The pond was froze over & so was the branch.

The snow was piled up belly-deep to a mule.

The kids were all home on vacation from school,

And happier young folks you never did see-

Just all sprawled around a-watchin’ TV.

Then suddenly, some time around 8 o’clock,

There came a surprise that gave them a shock!

The power went off, the TV went dead!

When Grandpa came in from out in the shed

With an armload of wood, the house was all dark.

“Just what I expected,” they heard him remark.

“Them power line wires must be down from the snow.

Seems sorter like times on the ranch long ago.”

“I’ll hunt up some candles,” said Mom. “With their light,

And the fireplace, I reckon we’ll make out all right.”

The teen-agers all seemed enveloped in gloom.

Then Grandpa came back from a trip to his room,

Uncased his old fiddle & started to play

That old Christmas song about bells on a sleigh.

Mom started to sing, & 1st thing they knew

Both Pop & the kids were all singing it, too.

They sang Christmas carols, they sang “Holy Night,”

Their eyes all a-shine in the ruddy firelight.

They played some charades Mom recalled from her youth,

And Pop read a passage from God’s Book of Truth.

They stayed up till midnight-and, would you believe,

The youngsters agreed ’twas a fine Christmas Eve.

Grandpa rose early, some time before dawn;

And when the kids wakened, the power was on..

“The power company sure got the line repaired quick,”

Said Grandpa – & no one suspected his trick.

Last night, for the sake of some old-fashioned fun,

He had pulled the main switch – the old Son-of-a-Gun!


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I remember tearing across town on my bike to visit Grandma on the day my big sister dropped the bomb: “There is no Santa Claus,” she jeered. “Even dummies know that!”

My Grandma was not the gushy kind, never had been. I fled to her that day because I knew she would be straight with me. I knew Grandma always told the truth, and I knew that the truth always went down a whole lot easier when swallowed with one of her “world-famous” cinnamon buns. I knew they were world-famous, because Grandma said so. It had to be true.

Grandma was home, and the buns were still warm. Between bites, I told her everything. She was ready for me. “No Santa Claus?” she snorted….”Ridiculous! Don’t believe it. That rumor has been going around for years, and it makes me mad, plain mad!! Now, put on your coat, and let’s go.”

“Go? Go where, Grandma?” I asked. I hadn’t even finished my second world-famous cinnamon bun. “Where” turned out to be Kirby’s General Store, the one store in town that had a little bit of just about everything. As we walked through its doors, Grandma handed me ten dollars. That was a bundle in those days. “Take this money,” she said, “and buy something for someone who needs it. I’ll wait for you in the car.” Then she turned and walked out of Kirby’s.

I was only eight years old. I’d often gone shopping with my mother, but never had I shopped for anything all by myself. The store seemed big and crowded, full of people scrambling to finish their Christmas shopping.

For a few moments I just stood there, confused, clutching that ten-dollar bill, wondering what to buy, and who on earth to buy it for.

I thought of everybody I knew: my family, my friends, my neighbors, the kids at school, and the people who went to my church.

I was just about thought out, when I suddenly thought of Bobby Decker. He was a kid with bad breath and messy hair, and he sat right behind me in Mrs. Pollock’s grade-two class. Bobby Decker didn’t have a coat. I knew that because he never went out to recess during the winter. His mother always wrote a note, telling the teacher that he had a cough, but all we kids knew that Bobby Decker didn’t have a cough; he didn’t have a good coat. I fingered the ten-dollar bill with growing excitement. I would buy Bobby Decker a coat!

I settled on a red corduroy one that had a hood to it. It looked real warm, and he would like that.

“Is this a Christmas present for someone?” the lady behind the counter asked kindly, as I laid my ten dollars down. “Yes, ma’am,” I replied shyly. “It’s for Bobby.”

The nice lady smiled at me, as I told her about how Bobby really needed a good winter coat. I didn’t get any change, but she put the coat in a bag, smiled again, and wished me a Merry Christmas.

That evening, Grandma helped me wrap the coat (a little tag fell out of the coat, and Grandma tucked it in her Bible) in Christmas paper and ribbons and wrote, “To Bobby, From Santa Claus” on it.

Grandma said that Santa always insisted on secrecy. Then she drove me over to Bobby Decker’s house, explaining as we went that I was now and forever officially, one of Santa’s helpers.

Grandma parked down the street from Bobby’s house, and she and I crept noiselessly and hid in the bushes by his front walk. Then Grandma gave me a nudge. “All right, Santa Claus,” she whispered, “get going.”

I took a deep breath, dashed for his front door, threw the present down on his step, pounded his door and flew back to the safety of the bushes and Grandma.

Together we waited breathlessly in the darkness for the front door to open. Finally it did, and there stood Bobby.

Fifty years hasn’t dimmed the thrill of those moments spent shivering, beside my Grandma, in Bobby Decker’s bushes. That night, I realized that those awful rumors about Santa Claus were just what Grandma said they were — ridiculous. Santa was alive and well and we were on his team.

I still have the Bible, with the coat tag tucked inside: $19.95.

May you always have LOVE to share,

HEALTH to spare and FRIENDS that care…

And may you always believe in the magic of Santa Claus!

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A family is at the dinner table. The son asks his father,
‘Dad, how many kinds of boobs are there?
The father, surprised, answers,
‘Well, son, there are three kinds of boobs:
In her 20’s, a woman’s are like melons, round and firm.
In her 30’s to 40’s, they are like pears, still nice but hanging a bit.
After 50, they are like onions’.
‘Yes, you see them and they make you cry.’

This infuriated his wife and daughter so the daughter said,
‘Mum, how many kinds of ‘willies’ are there?.
The mother, surprised, smiles and answers,
‘Well dear, a man goes through three phases.
In his 20’s, his willy is like an oak tree, mighty and hard.
In his 30’s and 40’s, it is like a birch, flexible but reliable.
After his 50’s, it is like a Christmas Tree.’
‘A Christmas tree?’
‘Yes – the tree is dead and the balls are just for decoration.’

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Understand that things happen for a reason

The brand new pastor and his wife, newly assigned
to their first ministry, to reopen a church
in suburban Brooklyn , arrived in early October
excited about their opportunities. When they saw
their church, it was very run down and needed
much work. They set a goal to have everything
done in time to have their first service
on Christmas Eve.

They worked hard, repairing pews, plastering walls,
painting, etc, and on December 18
were ahead of schedule and just about finished.

On December 19 a terrible tempest – a driving
rainstorm hit the area and lasted for two days.

On the 21st, the pastor went over to the church.
His heart sank when he saw that the roof had
leaked, causing a large area of plaster about
20 feet by 8 feet to fall off the front wall
of the sanctuary just behind the pulpit,
beginning about head high.

The pastor cleaned up the mess on the floor,
and not knowing what else to do but postpone
the Christmas Eve service, headed home.
On the way he noticed that a local business was
having a flea market type sale for charity, so he
stopped in. One of the items was a beautiful,
handmade, ivory colored, crocheted tablecloth
with exquisite work, fine colors and a Cross
embroidered right in the center. It was just
the right size to cover the hole in the front
wall. He bought it and headed back to the church.

B y this time it had started to snow. An older
woman running from the opposite direction was
trying to catch the bus. She missed it. The pastor
invited her to wait in the warm church for
the next bus 45 minutes later.

She sat in a pew and paid no attention to the pastor
while he got a ladder, hangers, etc., to put
up the tablecloth as a wall tapestry. The pastor
could hardly believe how beautiful it looked and
it covered up the entire problem area.

Then he noticed the woman walking down the center
aisle. Her face was like a sheet. “Pastor,”
she asked, “where did you get that tablecloth?”
The pastor explained. The woman asked him to check
the lower right corner to see if the initials, EBG were crocheted into
it there. They were. These were the initials of the woman, and she had
made this tablecloth 35 years before, in Austria .

The woman could hardly believe it as the pastor
told how he had just gotten “The Tablecloth”. The
woman explained that before the war she and
her husband were well-to-do people in Austria .

When the Nazis came, she was forced to leave.
Her husband was going to follow her the next week.
He was captured, sent to prison and never saw her
husband or her home again.

The pastor wanted to give her the tablecloth;
but she made the pastor keep it for the church.
The pastor insisted on driving her home. That
was the least he could do. She lived on the other
side of Staten Island and was only in Brooklyn
for the day for a housecleaning job.

What a wonderful service they had on Christmas
Eve. The church was almost full. The music and the
spirit were great. At the end of the service, the
pastor and his wife greeted everyone at the door
and many said that they would return.

One older man, whom the pastor recognized
from the neighborhood continued to sit in one of the
pews and stare, and the pastor wondered why he
wasn’t leaving.

The man asked him where he got the tablecloth on
the front wall because it was identical to one
that his wife had made years ago when
they lived in Austria before the war and how
could there be two tablecloths so much alike?

He told the pastor how the Nazis came, how he
forced his wife to flee for her safety and he was
supposed to follow her, but he was arrested and
put in a prison. He never saw his wife or his home
again all the 35 years between.

The pastor asked him if he would allow him to
take him for a little ride. They drove to Staten
Island and to the same house where the pastor
had taken the woman three days earlier.

He helped the man climb the three flights of
stairs to the woman’s apartment, knocked on
the door and he saw the greatest Christmas
reunion he could ever imagine.

I looked it up on Snopes and they call it a legend, rather than true or false.
The original was called The Gold and Ivory Tablecloth by Rev. Schade who has since passed away
leaving not enough information to check out authenticity.

In any case I love the story and the moral of the story. It’s worth saving and reading from time to time.

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