It is a soft word...that turns away wrath! Darling daughter

We must watch our tones, darling. We get frustrated at our situation, surely it is true, but our tone must show our kindness, even in frustration. You taught me that, through life, dear girl. I don't know how many times that I have punished you for the words that were in my heart that came out of your mouth. Still, your honesty is admired by me, but I do wonder, if your heart knows how to express the humility to God that it ought. You are a woman and there is little that I can say now that millions of spankings have been lain upon your bottom. Honor of authority of your father and mother is a reflection of your respect for God. Just think about it! And know that I love you!

It is just like your room to be the birthplace of needed grace and true conflict.

That is where grace is needed from God. Conflict and pain, lack of understanding and difficulty on all sides and there, God lends His grace. That is certainly where grace is born. In the darkness of our sinful estate is where grace is born. God sends and patches our darkness and lights our path and crushes our pride and grants His power, when we can't depend on any other, there is God. No, mother can't handle it, that is certain. No, father can't carry us, positively. Only God can handle the trouble that arises. Foes assail, friends disappoint us and we are cast aside, but not cast off from God's presence. Only He is a friend unfailing. I hope you always remember that.

Are we praying, like Petunia, for our nation?

Thank God the passing of the bill to avoid some of the aspects of the fiscal cliff. We must learn to pray for the men in our lives, as paralelled in Cabin in the Sky. What a picture of prayer, Petunia was to pray for her "Little Joe" not to die? I see a figure of Christ and the Church in the United States pictured here. The church in the US is wedded to a nation who is gambling with the future everyday. It is tricked and duped and always promising to come to Christ, one of these old days. We pray and fall on our knees, but we are not called to gamble our very souls for the soul of this wayward nation. We must pray and distance ourselves from thinking that we can pay for the sins of our loved one. God, we pray that You would not let our "Little Joe" nation die. We pray that we would learn as a nation to be loyal to the truth of Christ above our own lusts and temptations. May we learn to cherish the church of Christ in our nation and not use it to manipulate the faithful for gain. In God, we live and move and have our being. May we be faithful to pray for our nation, but not enter into its' gambling habit.

Its always a great day for breakfast with my Emmy Baby!

Yesterday the time was right. We snatched a couple of Christmas presents from the Church and learned about love with eachother over some Mcbreakfasts. We were together alone. Not arguing. These times are rare now that she's a woman and I'm a woman. Talking about how her circumstance and mine were similar. I longed to prolong my father's life. He was really sick. Her father had a close call and she was right there. Why do we seek to prolong life, was the question on the table. Why should we concern ourselves with things like cellular regeneration and the pituitary gland and such. Why does a daughter rush her daddy to the hospital to get a "new stent" on life? She is our resident life-saver. I reminisced how my visits to my daddy were always repleat with new possibilities to help restore some of the uses of his extremities that were lost in his stroke. Necessity is the mother of invention. Love is the mother of regenerative ambitions. I felt a kiss from my daddy, this year, among other things. It was really a drop of cold persperation that dripped from my locks onto my cheek and if felt as though my daddy kissed me for cutting the grass, that day. He loved stuff like that. He loved wifely changes in roles to mark loving expressions and I could hear, or almost hear what he would have said. Just the moment that I was thinking that, the kiss on the cheek came to my face. Emily loves her daddy and our breakfast discussion was delightful as we gobbled down eggs and meat in a trip to pick up Ben for his Sunday School lesson. We worship together. We enjoy Sundays, but this Sunday was unique in that we had a whole half hour and a meal outside our home to mark the end of a trying, but victorious year of 2012. I love you, Emily!

At Tennis camp, as a child, I said I cannot do it- Serving into the sun is impossible!

I was so frustrated and Brother was so patient with me. He came from his usual "perch", (Running drills and such)and came to my side of the net to instruct me and give a personal demonstration of how to serve at 1 o'clock. I was shivering at such personal attention to me in my frustration. Brother was usually untouched by the "feelings of our feminine frustrations". He actually came to the service line and showed me how to do it. I will make him proud, I determined, because of this personal care that he showed to me. This morning I remember how many aces I hit because of the care of this man who showed me the correct toss. I am spastic throwing, as a rule. The toss was the worst part of my game. When the sun was at twelve oclock, I would just want to quit the game rather than try to serve on the sunglared side of the court. "Brother" made this, no longer a frustration. The sun is at twelve oclock serve at 1 oclock- he meant toss the ball a little lower than the sunglare and hit the sun, or perceive that you are hitting the sun. Blinding, at first, it is a lesson in dealing with perceived obstacles. I remember this, because I have children reared in the full sunglare of the presence of God in the home and this can be just as frustrating as serving on the sunny side of the court. Their father is such a wholesome individual and they are always judging this side and that side. I cannot get them to think outside of themselves. I take the ball from "Brother" I serve at 1 oclock and sometimes this gets their attention that they cannot be the end all and be all of the matter. Only God is God. Look at it from someone else's perspective is the lesson. For me it is try to climb over the obstacles and try to serve into the sun, as frustrating as this may be.

Who is in the house?

Happy Working Girl!

It is so delightful to see the working woman driving and taking good care of 4 boys. I love your enthusiasm of working. I love that you care for those fellows and love driving the distance. What God does to make us cranky women, useful servants is delightful isn't it?

I Love being 50

If I have the memory to recall, it seems that 50 is about the replays of the point. It is as though the great umpire calls a let and in your mind the points get replayed, only this time you have only your mind to play it. I would have run to the net and I would have hit a super topspin cross-court backhand, instead of that stupid drop shot. I see myself, as clear as day running to the net and being able to get under that ball and executing the shot perfectly. Then, I wake up. It is an argument and a 20 something year old has just hit me a dropshot that only a cross court backhand would be appropriate. I wouldn't hit her in the teeth. Insolence? No, just the age. You were that age before. What did Ruth say? "Youth is waisted on the young!" Are we in a match? Is the ball in play? Is there a match to win? Are we on holiday? Anyway, my bones hurt, as though I had a drill of lob backhands and loads and loads of overhands that I had hit, but I didn't. Just the pain in the neck from the children that God has blessed me with. I love that they bring me to the net. It delights my soul to put the ball away and not to knock the living daylights out of them. Some points they may win, but tennis {bless that game}gives me a certain perspective about the ball in play, with them. I tell them, You do not want to be on the other side of the net from me. You don't want me to put the ball away on you. That is surely what I always taught them when I took them out on the court. There is nothing more delicious to a tennis player, than a well placed lob to put away. It is instinct. I wanted them to see the natural way that I will put it away. You are my child and if you don't duck you could lose something. I want you to see that part of me. Don't give me that lob. I will put it away. They seemed to understand. Yet, and still they come home late and give me some stupid discussion about this and that. Elyse knows to duck. She sticks her head in the sand while the discussion takes place and Emily, {bless her heart} continues the rally without her partner. She hit a lob to mommy and she will get her head handed to her, if she doesn't duck. Yep. Well, thank goodness I was nearly asleep. My bones feel the pain of the match, this morning and there was no real match, just my imagination of points that I would have played. Grandpa's blessed "Hustle" yelling in my ear. Get to the ball, Jayne. There he is, in the building above me, yelling "Hustle!" Will I?

...Miles to go before I sleep.

My Father's eyes...

Being the first born, I do remember the days that my mommy and daddy were oogling at one another. It was so cute to me to see them enjoy one another. I studied their eye contact. They looked and blushed and enjoyed their young love so much, it was delightful. There were many delights that lit my father's eyes ablaze. He was a great admirer of all kinds of beauty. He could find delight in the interaction with intelligent, unintelligent, homely and painted women. He just loved people. His entire goal in life was to have his great grandma look at him as a good man. I think they did. But they were unswervingly honest. There were good men and rogues. They were sure that my father would be the latter. He tried and tried to stay true, although his emotions were not set in that direction. It surprised me when I saw the look on Fr. Manion's face talking about his mother's cookies. His eyes rolled back in his head, very much like my daddy, when he saw Yvette Mimieux or some other starlet on tv. Cookies? He looked me right in the eye, in church and he said no bakery on earth can match my mommy's cookies. First of all, he was very old and I very young. So, it was hard to imagine him having a mommy. We were delighted weekly or so with bakery cookies and my mommy could bake and cook, but the eyes that he made for these cookies is indellibly in my remembrance. I do love the look of delight on men's faces, eating and looking at things. In my meditations of these blessings of comfort that we enjoy, I think that the essence of home is the place where the twinkle in the eye meets the place where it belongs. The enjoyments have no or little negative repercutions. The closest to heaven upon the earth and the remembrances of love and treats at home are as much of God's lending Himself to us as we can stand in these mortal bodies. To look at the twinkle of the men in my life, Dad, Gramps, Dr. Lang, Mr. T., etc. are the memories that keep me motivated. maybe...

What profit is there for the godly woman? The presence of God is a treasure!

Why should I try to be a godly woman? Where is the advantage in trying to love God and live holy as a woman? So many questions come into the mind when you are trying to decide where is the advantage of knowing God in your youth. You feel like a sitting duck for the devil and his schemes. How will I ever get worldly wise, if I am following God from early in life? These are questions that lurk in the mind of the youngsters growing up under the grace of God and instructed early. You are early taught to see your sins and flee to Christ for mercy and pardon. You are early taught to prize the presence of God. Sometimes, we don't appreciate the presence of God, until we go into a far country. We don't recognize that we are blessed, until we live in a place without that blessing. Some people equate monetary blessing with the presence of God. That is what was the blessing of Rahab, in my estimation. She would never be deceived by such a lie. She lived in an oppulent society, without God. God is coming to judge our city, she would lure her listeners into her home to escape the coming destruction. Money is not a measure of blessing. Stuff is not a measure of blessing. The presence of God in worship and the presence of God in family life is the measure. Obed-Edom was that picture, in David's kingdom. He knew God. He followed the truth of God and God blessed his household. That is the measure. I can imagine that we will get to glory and see how much God longed to enter into our fellowship in our circumstances. How we shunned Him in our grasping for the straws of attainments? God's presence in our life is life indeed. His burden is easy and His burden is light. Learn from the testimonies of the godly elders that have gone before you and don't wait to make your calling and election sure. You have a treasure of godly examples and testimonies in your mindseyes. Don't despise such a treasure. Use these examples to launch you into pursuits and a life of love to God and love of His Word and a life of learning to live in the presence of God and with short accounts with man, but certainly with God!