I am so excited that item number two on my bucket list may be coming together. I'm afraid to utter it out loud in case it doesn't come together. Today I applied for a business license for Laney's Treasures. I've been waiting for that little nudge from God to move forward. Doors appear to be opening that I never imagined possible. Exploring new territory is a little frightening, but as the saying goes, nothing ventured, nothing gained. When I look back on my life, I don't want to say..."if only I had tried..." So what if things don't turn out as I plan...then God must have another plan.
Are you like me, hesitant to ask God for the "desires of your heart"? It seems presumptuous to ask for big things when He so graciously provides for our needs each day. But he's our Father and He loves to give gifts to His children. God knows my heart; I don't want to sit when I can stand; I don't want to stand when I can walk; I don't want to walk when I can run; I don't want to run when I can soar.
"Delight yourself in the LORD; And He will give you the desires of your heart." Psalm 37:4
"If you then, being evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father who is in heaven give what is good to those who ask Him!" Matthew 7:11
"But they who wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles; they shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint." Isaiah 40:31
Copyright 2011 Charlotte Laney
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
What Every Kid Needs
Aunt Belle was my Daddy's aunt..my Grandma's younger sister. Born in the late 1800's, she went to work in the mills when she was just a little girl. I doubt she ever went to school, because she never learned how to read or write. I was told she could "cipher", meaning she could count money, enough so to be sure she wasn't cheated at Johnny Russell's store. From my earliest remembrances, Aunt Belle was tall, slim, dark-skinned, with high cheek bones and short, curly, salt and pepper hair. Aunt Belle was married three times, but never had children of her own.
My grandmother, Daisy, was tall, plump, dark-skinned, hawk nosed, with coarse white hair, always worn in a bun. Since all my relatives came from Cherokee County, North Carolina, I always wondered and hoped there is Cherokee Indian blood in me. My oldest brother did an advanced DNA test which pretty much confirms I'm a plain ol' Scots-Irish white woman.
My grandmother was widowed when I was about four years old. My only memory of Grandpa was visiting his bedside shortly before he died. I had a new dress and he asked, "Who is this pretty little girl?" I've never known whether he was joking to make conversation, or he truly didn't know me. But according to my brothers, he wasn't a touchy-feely Grandpa. Most of the photographs of him, he wore a rather sullen expression. Living through the Great Depression as a one-legged man, when able-bodied men couldn't find work, might jade one toward life.
After Grandpa died, Aunt Belle's third husband, George Knight, filled in as Grandpa for me. He had thin, white hair, blue-gray eyes, and wore little wire-rimmed glasses. To me, he seemed eternally old and pleasant...kind of like Santa Claus, only thinner. He wore denim overalls and probably dipped snuff. Just about all the old people of my southern childhood did. Uncle George wasn't blood-kin; but that didn't matter to me. Kids will love you--if you give them attention.
I sat on Uncle George's lap, got bouncing horsey rides, and peered at my reflection in his wire-rimmed glasses. He knew lots of verses to One-Two, Tie Your Shoe...way more than anyone else I've ever known. That seems important, somehow. He had a gold pocketwatch on a chain that he would take out and let me hold. I wonder what happened to that watch? It probably was sold or went to someone who could care less about the memories attached to it.
When we visited Grandma, we always went to visit Aunt Belle and Uncle George, too. They lived about a half mile apart, on different streets. Grandma got mad if we went to Aunt Belle's house first. How she found out, I don't know; but word traveled fast in the 'hood, and Aunt Belle's phone would be ringing!
Uncle George and Aunt Belle's house hugged the street, with a tall wire fence all around, large oak trees, and no grass to speak of. The ground was packed so hard, Aunt Belle probably swept it. There was a front porch for sitting in hot weather. There was no air conditioning in mill houses those days. The "front room" didn't have a sofa, only a few wooden rocking chairs, a coal or kerosene heater, and a big fluffy bed with squeaky wire springs. Uncle George ingeniously rigged a string from the one light bulb in the room's ceiling to the bedpost. That way you didn't have to stub your toe getting into bed; you could pull the string and turn off the light.
Aunt Belle and Uncle George loved watching wrestling and cowboy shows on their little black and white TV set. During westerns, she would talk to the TV and say, "Better watch out! He's behind that rock!" She and Grandma never believed men walked on the moon; it was all a fake. What if they were right? 😄
At Christmas time, Aunt Belle and Uncle George had a cardboard box filled with fruit, nuts, and candy, but never a Christmas tree. At Easter, she dyed eggs, just like me. Her biscuits were the best ever..made with lard and big as softballs. On Sundays, she used two tablecloths, one for the table, the other to cover the food. Lunch stayed on the table all day for visitors to eat when they dropped by. I didn't die from food poisoning, and I ate plenty of deviled eggs, potato salad, and fried chicken that wasn't refrigerated all day.
Oh, the memories of a slower pace and tighter family connections. Every kid needs an Aunt Belle and Uncle George!
Copyright 2011 Charlotte Laney
My grandmother, Daisy, was tall, plump, dark-skinned, hawk nosed, with coarse white hair, always worn in a bun. Since all my relatives came from Cherokee County, North Carolina, I always wondered and hoped there is Cherokee Indian blood in me. My oldest brother did an advanced DNA test which pretty much confirms I'm a plain ol' Scots-Irish white woman.
My grandmother was widowed when I was about four years old. My only memory of Grandpa was visiting his bedside shortly before he died. I had a new dress and he asked, "Who is this pretty little girl?" I've never known whether he was joking to make conversation, or he truly didn't know me. But according to my brothers, he wasn't a touchy-feely Grandpa. Most of the photographs of him, he wore a rather sullen expression. Living through the Great Depression as a one-legged man, when able-bodied men couldn't find work, might jade one toward life.
After Grandpa died, Aunt Belle's third husband, George Knight, filled in as Grandpa for me. He had thin, white hair, blue-gray eyes, and wore little wire-rimmed glasses. To me, he seemed eternally old and pleasant...kind of like Santa Claus, only thinner. He wore denim overalls and probably dipped snuff. Just about all the old people of my southern childhood did. Uncle George wasn't blood-kin; but that didn't matter to me. Kids will love you--if you give them attention.
I sat on Uncle George's lap, got bouncing horsey rides, and peered at my reflection in his wire-rimmed glasses. He knew lots of verses to One-Two, Tie Your Shoe...way more than anyone else I've ever known. That seems important, somehow. He had a gold pocketwatch on a chain that he would take out and let me hold. I wonder what happened to that watch? It probably was sold or went to someone who could care less about the memories attached to it.
When we visited Grandma, we always went to visit Aunt Belle and Uncle George, too. They lived about a half mile apart, on different streets. Grandma got mad if we went to Aunt Belle's house first. How she found out, I don't know; but word traveled fast in the 'hood, and Aunt Belle's phone would be ringing!
Uncle George and Aunt Belle's house hugged the street, with a tall wire fence all around, large oak trees, and no grass to speak of. The ground was packed so hard, Aunt Belle probably swept it. There was a front porch for sitting in hot weather. There was no air conditioning in mill houses those days. The "front room" didn't have a sofa, only a few wooden rocking chairs, a coal or kerosene heater, and a big fluffy bed with squeaky wire springs. Uncle George ingeniously rigged a string from the one light bulb in the room's ceiling to the bedpost. That way you didn't have to stub your toe getting into bed; you could pull the string and turn off the light.
Aunt Belle and Uncle George loved watching wrestling and cowboy shows on their little black and white TV set. During westerns, she would talk to the TV and say, "Better watch out! He's behind that rock!" She and Grandma never believed men walked on the moon; it was all a fake. What if they were right? 😄
At Christmas time, Aunt Belle and Uncle George had a cardboard box filled with fruit, nuts, and candy, but never a Christmas tree. At Easter, she dyed eggs, just like me. Her biscuits were the best ever..made with lard and big as softballs. On Sundays, she used two tablecloths, one for the table, the other to cover the food. Lunch stayed on the table all day for visitors to eat when they dropped by. I didn't die from food poisoning, and I ate plenty of deviled eggs, potato salad, and fried chicken that wasn't refrigerated all day.
Oh, the memories of a slower pace and tighter family connections. Every kid needs an Aunt Belle and Uncle George!
Copyright 2011 Charlotte Laney
Monday, August 29, 2011
The Good Samaritan of 1932
The Good Samaritan of 1932
Daddy was thirteen years old. Times were desperate, and people were struggling to feed their families. No money was available to clothe their growing children. Daddy had no socks. Since he had outgrown his shoes, the toes had been cut out, offering no protection from the cold.
It was winter and Clover was about sixty miles away. His mode of travel was to hitchhike and walk. He had breakfast at daybreak and set out--without a cent to his name. He caught a few rides, but he must have done more walking than riding, since it was about 5 p.m. when he finally reached Clover. All he knew was that his uncle was living in the old Oakridge Schoolhouse in the Bethel area near Clover, SC. After asking directions of someone he met on the street, he was sent in the wrong direction. By the time he retraced his steps and returned to Clover, it was dark. There were no street lights, and no traffic on the road.
The roads leaving Clover were unpaved, and after walking about a mile, he came to a store. It was closed, but the merchant lived in a house next door. When the man answered the door, Daddy asked for directions to the old schoolhouse. He was extremely tired, hungry, and thirsty--not having eaten since early morning. Gaining courage since the store owner seemed kind, Daddy asked if he could spare a leftover biscuit from supper. At the mention of food, the man's attitude changed. He said, "No!", and sent Daddy on his way.
He was lost! As he grew weaker, it became cloudier and colder. Up ahead on the right, there was a house with the lights still on. This time, after knocking on the door, a woman peeked through a crack in the door. He told her his name and asked if she knew his uncle. Through the door, she said she knew the family but didn't know where they lived. Actually, she was the teacher of Uncle Vic's daughter. Desperately hungry, again he asked for food. She said she had none to give, so he thanked her and kept on walking.
About a quarter of a mile later, he came to another house with a light on. He almost didn't stop, but because he had come to a crossroad and had no idea which way to go, he went to the door. This time the door was answered by a man. When Daddy asked for directions the man said, "Yeah, I know Mr. Davis. He is a hard-working man, and honest. Listen, you told me you came a long way. Why don't you come in and spend the night with us and get an early start in the morning. I can tell you in the morning how to get there. You'll be more rested", he insisted, and "it's getting cold out there and you might catch your death with pneumonia."
Hesitantly, Daddy went in. The man's wife and small child had already gone to bed. There was a fire going in the fireplace. He told Daddy his name was Frank Meek. He asked him to pull off his shoes and warm his feet by the fire while he went into the kitchen to warm up some supper. Almost seventy years later, Daddy said, "Man, it sure hit the spot!" By then it was 10:30 or 11 p.m., and the man led him to a room with a bed and nice, clean sheets. When he woke the next morning, Mr. Meek's wife was cooking him breakfast.
Choking back tears while retelling this story, Daddy's said: "To think of that man, even now...that man was a saint! Before I left that morning, he brought me a pair of brand new socks. That's what you call Christianity!" After instructing him exactly how to get to his uncle's house, he sent Daddy on his way.
Overnight... three inches of snow had fallen. When I get to heaven one day, I can't wait to meet Mr. Frank Meek. If not for him, I might never have been born.
Overnight... three inches of snow had fallen. When I get to heaven one day, I can't wait to meet Mr. Frank Meek. If not for him, I might never have been born.
Luke 10:30-37 --- The Good Samaritan
30 Jesus replied and said, “A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and fell among robbers, and they stripped him and beat him, and went away leaving him half dead. 31 And by chance a priest was going down on that road, and when he saw him, he passed by on the other side. 32 Likewise a Levite also, when he came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side. 33 But a Samaritan, who was on a journey, came upon him; and when he saw him, he felt compassion, 34 and came to him and bandaged up his wounds, pouring oil and wine on them; and he put him on his own beast, and brought him to an inn and took care of him. 35 On the next day he took out two denarii and gave them to the innkeeper and said, ‘Take care of him; and whatever more you spend, when I return I will repay you.’ 36 Which of these three do you think proved to be a neighbor to the man who fell into the robbers’ hands?” 37 And he said, “The one who showed mercy toward him.” Then Jesus said to him, “Go and do the same.”
Copyright 2011 Charlotte Laney
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Boyhood Lost in 1929
Boyhood Lost n 1929
Although he died five years ago, Daddy talked to me for hours tonight. My dad was a blogger before blogging was invented. Working third shift most of his life, he never quite got the hang of staying awake during the day and sleeping at night, even after retirement. He struggled with insomnia, so many nights he recorded Bible studies and devotions on his little black cassette recorder. He used up tape recorders like a basketball player does shoes. He made literally hundreds of tape recordings, carefully packaging them and mailing them to friends and family, far and wide. I have tapes of my kids (now grown with children of their own) singing hymns from the Baptist hymnal and reading storybooks with "Poppy".
Daddy had a terrific memory, and although he thought his life was quite ordinary, it was most extraordinary. Most children don't really appreciate their parents' history until they are no longer around to tell the stories. We are fortunate that in 1996 Daddy recorded many remembrances of his early years. My brother converted the tapes to mp3 files. Tonight was the first time in five years I have been brave enough to listen.
Tears sprang up during the first few lines of dialogue, as I knew they would. Just hearing his voice again brought so many emotions. It was as if he was sitting in the room talking with me again. I wanted to ask questions when I felt crucial information was left out of the story...but that's impossible now. Hearing his chuckle when recalling something funny made me smile. Many of the stories he told were of happy memories, but just as many were heart wrenching accounts of the hardship and cruelty he endured. At almost eighty, his voice could not disguise deeply buried emotions, resurfacing in the retelling.
After tonight, I better understand how the relationships and events of his life shaped his personality. Forced to leave his childhood behind too soon, as a parent he was overly protective of my brothers and me. After experiencing hunger as a child, later in life he would almost panic if the food supply at home ran low. He could be stubborn as a bulldog at times; most likely the result of the toughness required to survive the Great Depression. In the classic novel, "Jane Eyre", the heroine survived eight years in the dreaded Lowood School, to which Mr. Rochester said, "You must be tenacious of life!" The same should be said of my Daddy's generation.
According to my dad, Grandpa was a "rolling stone", moving from place to place in search of a better job and a better life. Daddy said one time they moved twice in the same week. They moved from Murphy, NC, then lived in numerous houses in Cramerton, Kannapolis, Clover, McAdenville, Cherryville, Charlotte, and Gastonia, moving from cotton mill to cotton mill. Grandpa was a weaver when he was stricken with osteomyelitis and had to have his leg amputated. Grandma became the primary breadwinner to support a family of seven. She was working at the Loray Mill In 1929. At that time, men at Loray made about $17 per week for over 55 hours of work; women made even less.
My grandmother and others were easily seduced with union organizers' promises of better pay and working conditions. When convinced to strike in early April 1929, they couldn't have realized the series of events to follow. Daddy came home from school one day to find his family's belongings piled on the street. They were evicted by mill representatives as punishment for participating in the strike. He was only eleven years old when they were forced to live in a tent village. One night violence broke out, and vigilantes opposing the union plunged a bayonet into his family's tent. He was terrorized when his father was dragged away, charged with a crime he didn't commit.
Children should not have to live in fear, feel the pangs of hunger, know the insecurity of homelessness, or experience exploitation and brutality at the hands of adults they should be able to trust. But it still happens every day...all over the world. Make a difference in the life of a child.
History doesn't have to repeat itself, if we learn from it. The polarizing events of Loray Mill 1929 were deeply hidden in the closets of Gastonia families for decades; mine included. It's a story the participants cannot tell from the grave...except for one.
Daddy made sure we retained our childhood innocence and gave us the roots and stability he didn't have as a boy. I hope I was able to do the same for my boys. I've taken up the mantle as the family blogger, historian, and devotion writer. I'm sorry, Daddy, but some stories need to be retold.
Copyright 2011 Charlotte Laney
Daddy had a terrific memory, and although he thought his life was quite ordinary, it was most extraordinary. Most children don't really appreciate their parents' history until they are no longer around to tell the stories. We are fortunate that in 1996 Daddy recorded many remembrances of his early years. My brother converted the tapes to mp3 files. Tonight was the first time in five years I have been brave enough to listen.
Tears sprang up during the first few lines of dialogue, as I knew they would. Just hearing his voice again brought so many emotions. It was as if he was sitting in the room talking with me again. I wanted to ask questions when I felt crucial information was left out of the story...but that's impossible now. Hearing his chuckle when recalling something funny made me smile. Many of the stories he told were of happy memories, but just as many were heart wrenching accounts of the hardship and cruelty he endured. At almost eighty, his voice could not disguise deeply buried emotions, resurfacing in the retelling.
After tonight, I better understand how the relationships and events of his life shaped his personality. Forced to leave his childhood behind too soon, as a parent he was overly protective of my brothers and me. After experiencing hunger as a child, later in life he would almost panic if the food supply at home ran low. He could be stubborn as a bulldog at times; most likely the result of the toughness required to survive the Great Depression. In the classic novel, "Jane Eyre", the heroine survived eight years in the dreaded Lowood School, to which Mr. Rochester said, "You must be tenacious of life!" The same should be said of my Daddy's generation.
According to my dad, Grandpa was a "rolling stone", moving from place to place in search of a better job and a better life. Daddy said one time they moved twice in the same week. They moved from Murphy, NC, then lived in numerous houses in Cramerton, Kannapolis, Clover, McAdenville, Cherryville, Charlotte, and Gastonia, moving from cotton mill to cotton mill. Grandpa was a weaver when he was stricken with osteomyelitis and had to have his leg amputated. Grandma became the primary breadwinner to support a family of seven. She was working at the Loray Mill In 1929. At that time, men at Loray made about $17 per week for over 55 hours of work; women made even less.
My grandmother and others were easily seduced with union organizers' promises of better pay and working conditions. When convinced to strike in early April 1929, they couldn't have realized the series of events to follow. Daddy came home from school one day to find his family's belongings piled on the street. They were evicted by mill representatives as punishment for participating in the strike. He was only eleven years old when they were forced to live in a tent village. One night violence broke out, and vigilantes opposing the union plunged a bayonet into his family's tent. He was terrorized when his father was dragged away, charged with a crime he didn't commit.
Children should not have to live in fear, feel the pangs of hunger, know the insecurity of homelessness, or experience exploitation and brutality at the hands of adults they should be able to trust. But it still happens every day...all over the world. Make a difference in the life of a child.
History doesn't have to repeat itself, if we learn from it. The polarizing events of Loray Mill 1929 were deeply hidden in the closets of Gastonia families for decades; mine included. It's a story the participants cannot tell from the grave...except for one.
Daddy made sure we retained our childhood innocence and gave us the roots and stability he didn't have as a boy. I hope I was able to do the same for my boys. I've taken up the mantle as the family blogger, historian, and devotion writer. I'm sorry, Daddy, but some stories need to be retold.
Copyright 2011 Charlotte Laney
Thursday, August 25, 2011
Hang On For Dear Life!
When I was in the eleventh grade, I got a part-time job in downtown Charlotte at American Credit Company. For the first time in my life, I had money of my own. How did I spend that hard-earned money, you ask? Well, I spent it as most teenage girls would...clothes, shoes, and riding stables. Oh, I doubt most teens spent their money at the riding stable, but loving horses the way I did, it was inevitable. If there was a place nearby that rented horses by the hour, I found it. I rode more nags than I'd like to remember, including at least one that was blind in one eye. However, occasionally I got a good one.
There was a stable near the airport, I think it was called Riverview Stables. I was there just about every weekend...usually more than once. The owner and stable hands became familiar with me, but even more familiar with my money. I brought them plenty of business since I convinced everyone I knew, family included, to come riding with me.
One particular weekend my brother and sister-in-law went with me to Riverview. It was a beautiful day, perfect for a trail ride. When we got there the owner said, "Miss Laney, I've got a new horse you need to try out." I should have been more in tune to the words...NEW HORSE.
I mounted the new horse, securing my feet in the stirrups, while my brother and sister-in-law stood by watching. Once the horse was turned away from the barn, I clicked my heels gently against his side. He didn't budge, not wanting to leave the stable. Just about that time the stable hand, standing behind me, took off his big cowboy hat and smacked my horse on the rump. He took off like a shot. All I heard from behind me was, "Look at Miss Laney go"!
I went alright! That stupid horse took off at a full gallop, heading straight for the woods. He didn't want me on his back, and at that moment I wanted to be there even less. I pulled back on the reins as hard as I could and yelled "Whoa" to the top of my lungs! He must have been deaf, with lips of steel, because the bit and my yelling didn't slow him down in the least.
Suddenly, we were in the midst of the woods. With branches whipping at my face, I was terrified! What seemed like eternity could only have been a few seconds, I'm sure. I didn't have time to think what I could possibly do to get off without being trampled or my head taken off by a tree limb.
The next event replays in my mind in slow motion. Whether the horse tripped in a hole filled with leaves, or over a fallen log, I'll never know. But down we went. Thankfully, he fell to his side and my feet slid out of the stirrups on the way down. Somehow, with God's protection, I rolled out of the way as the horse scrambled to get up.
Before I had a chance to get up off the ground my brother was there, and my sister-in-law right behind him. I never knew they were sprinters. Although I was completely shaken, vowing I'd never get on another horse, I walked away with only a few scratches.
Then my attention was diverted again to the horse. Was he okay? Did he break a leg? Would they find him, or was he still running for the next county? After being led back to the stable, I was trying to regain my composure. But, I guess they thought I hadn't been traumatized enough with the hat slap and the wild ride on a crazy horse. The insensitive stable hand said, "I'm sorry, Miss Laney, but we're going to have to put him down". For any of you not familiar with the expression, "put him down", that means euthanize the horse, often done when a leg is broken. I fell apart, crying hysterically. Then the stable hand just laughed and said the horse was fine.
A few life lessons were learned that day. Family will come to your rescue before anyone else. It's true, if you fall off a horse you should get right back on, even if you don't want to. Don't trust a man with a cowboy hat when your back is turned. Most importantly, when things are out of control, sometimes you just have to hold on to God for dear life and see where His path takes you!
Proverbs 3:5-6
"Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Him, and He will make all your paths straight."
Copyright 2011 Charlotte Laney
There was a stable near the airport, I think it was called Riverview Stables. I was there just about every weekend...usually more than once. The owner and stable hands became familiar with me, but even more familiar with my money. I brought them plenty of business since I convinced everyone I knew, family included, to come riding with me.
One particular weekend my brother and sister-in-law went with me to Riverview. It was a beautiful day, perfect for a trail ride. When we got there the owner said, "Miss Laney, I've got a new horse you need to try out." I should have been more in tune to the words...NEW HORSE.
I mounted the new horse, securing my feet in the stirrups, while my brother and sister-in-law stood by watching. Once the horse was turned away from the barn, I clicked my heels gently against his side. He didn't budge, not wanting to leave the stable. Just about that time the stable hand, standing behind me, took off his big cowboy hat and smacked my horse on the rump. He took off like a shot. All I heard from behind me was, "Look at Miss Laney go"!
I went alright! That stupid horse took off at a full gallop, heading straight for the woods. He didn't want me on his back, and at that moment I wanted to be there even less. I pulled back on the reins as hard as I could and yelled "Whoa" to the top of my lungs! He must have been deaf, with lips of steel, because the bit and my yelling didn't slow him down in the least.
Suddenly, we were in the midst of the woods. With branches whipping at my face, I was terrified! What seemed like eternity could only have been a few seconds, I'm sure. I didn't have time to think what I could possibly do to get off without being trampled or my head taken off by a tree limb.
The next event replays in my mind in slow motion. Whether the horse tripped in a hole filled with leaves, or over a fallen log, I'll never know. But down we went. Thankfully, he fell to his side and my feet slid out of the stirrups on the way down. Somehow, with God's protection, I rolled out of the way as the horse scrambled to get up.
Before I had a chance to get up off the ground my brother was there, and my sister-in-law right behind him. I never knew they were sprinters. Although I was completely shaken, vowing I'd never get on another horse, I walked away with only a few scratches.
Then my attention was diverted again to the horse. Was he okay? Did he break a leg? Would they find him, or was he still running for the next county? After being led back to the stable, I was trying to regain my composure. But, I guess they thought I hadn't been traumatized enough with the hat slap and the wild ride on a crazy horse. The insensitive stable hand said, "I'm sorry, Miss Laney, but we're going to have to put him down". For any of you not familiar with the expression, "put him down", that means euthanize the horse, often done when a leg is broken. I fell apart, crying hysterically. Then the stable hand just laughed and said the horse was fine.
A few life lessons were learned that day. Family will come to your rescue before anyone else. It's true, if you fall off a horse you should get right back on, even if you don't want to. Don't trust a man with a cowboy hat when your back is turned. Most importantly, when things are out of control, sometimes you just have to hold on to God for dear life and see where His path takes you!
Proverbs 3:5-6
"Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Him, and He will make all your paths straight."
Copyright 2011 Charlotte Laney
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
Earthquakes and Hurricanes
I turned off the TV about 1:45 today after watching the most recent hurricane update. A few minutes later, and shortly before 2 p.m., I felt the sofa begin to shake from side to side. My dog, who was lying at my feet, looked startled. When the shaking stopped less than a minute later, I thought, "this feels like an earthquake. Did anyone else feel this besides me? Okay, Laney, you must be imagining this. We don't have earthquakes in Charlotte. Maybe it's just a big truck, or the ceiling fan's off balance, or the nearby road crew's equipment." I got up, turned off the ceiling fan, looked outside and saw nothing out of the ordinary...no trucks or cars on our street.
I wondered who I could call without feeling stupid if they say, "No, I didn't feel a thing. It must be your imagination". So I got out my laptop and started searching for tremors in the Charlotte area, but came up with nothing. I even did a Google search on U.S. seismology sites; nothing there either. But if you want to know anything, the place to go is Facebook. Immediately, someone asked if anyone else had felt shaking. That's when someone else posted of breaking news of a 5.8 earthquake near Richmond, Virginia.
While on a mission trip in Guatemala two years ago in March, we experienced a 6.3 earthquake in Antigua. It was about 10 p.m. at night, when our hotel room began to shake. My son and I both felt it, but my husband slept right through it. As soon as today's earthquake was confirmed, I called him at work and asked if he felt the quake. I couldn't believe it...he knew nothing about it...hadn't felt a thing..again!
Should I be surprised? My hubby can fall asleep at a traffic light. He can fall asleep faster than anyone I know. He can sleep all night with the lights on. So, if we have earthquake aftershocks tonight, or if Hurricane Irene makes a swift left turn and aims for Charlotte on Saturday night...I'll have to wake him up, or he'll sleep through the whole thing!
Psalm 4:8 "I will lie down and sleep in peace, for you alone, O LORD, make me dwell in safety."
Copyright 2011 Charlotte Laney
Pintos and White Horses
When I was a little girl, I only remember truly longing for three things: a swingset, a bicycle, and a horse. Although I had to wait patiently for them...I finally got the swingset and the bicycle, but I never owned a horse.
Before we moved to the city, Lou Miller, the little girl who lived up the road from us, had a pony and pony cart. When she and her dad rode by our house, I think she flipped her hair in my direction as if to say, "look what I have, and you don't." How "Nellie Olson-esque" of her! Actually, she didn't know how much I wanted a horse...it was just the green-eyed monster in me.
Back then, my favorite TV show was Bonanza. I would gallop about our yard, pretending to be Little Joe Cartwright on his pinto horse. Sounds silly...but you must remember, I was only five or six years old. Whenever I got my hands on a pencil, pen, or crayons, I was constantly drawing pictures of horses. Not good pictures, mind you. They were swaybacked, long-faced caricatures of horses...but my mother said they were good...and Mama never lied! She loved them enough to keep a collection in her cedar chest. Mamas are like that...yes, they are.
When we moved to the city after the second grade, I read every horse book in the Tryon Hills Elementary School library. There was an entire section of Black Beauty, Black Stallion, Man 'O War, and Flicka books the librarian pointed out for me. Mom and Dad bought me a book titled, "The Horseman's Bible." I studied it "religiously", learning which side of the horse to mount, how to hold the reins, how to turn his head, how to make him stop and go. The desire got stronger. Oh, if only I could ride a horse...
Other than ponies at the amusement park or mechanical horses outside the grocery store, I never rode a real horse until we went on a trip to Cherokee, North Carolina when I was about ten or eleven. We came across a stable offering trail rides. Mama sat in the car...she wasn't too adventurous, but Daddy was. He was a big man...not tall, just wide. I remember him laughing and asking the trail guide for the biggest horse he had...one that could hold him. I chose a pinto...just like Little Joe's. I was too scared to look down from the drop offs along the trail. But, it was a little girl's dream come true--to be sitting on the back of a real, live horse.
You know, God must love horses as much as I do. The book of Revelation says that one day He's coming back on a white horse to conquer and destroy Satan and his minions once and forever. The Bible says he'll be accompanied by the armies of heaven, those redeemed by the blood of Jesus...also riding white horses. One day in heaven, I'll finally own a horse! Maybe Jesus will let me have a pinto...just like Little Joe's.
Revelation 19:11-14: "And I saw heaven opened, and behold, a white horse, and He who sat on it is called Faithful and True, and in righteousness He judges and wages war. His eyes are a flame of fire, and on His head are many diadems; and He has a name written on Him which no one knows except Himself. He is clothed with a robe dipped in blood, and His name is called The Word of God. And the armies which are in heaven, clothed in fine linen, white and clean, were following Him on white horses."
Copyright 2011 Charlotte Laney
Before we moved to the city, Lou Miller, the little girl who lived up the road from us, had a pony and pony cart. When she and her dad rode by our house, I think she flipped her hair in my direction as if to say, "look what I have, and you don't." How "Nellie Olson-esque" of her! Actually, she didn't know how much I wanted a horse...it was just the green-eyed monster in me.
Back then, my favorite TV show was Bonanza. I would gallop about our yard, pretending to be Little Joe Cartwright on his pinto horse. Sounds silly...but you must remember, I was only five or six years old. Whenever I got my hands on a pencil, pen, or crayons, I was constantly drawing pictures of horses. Not good pictures, mind you. They were swaybacked, long-faced caricatures of horses...but my mother said they were good...and Mama never lied! She loved them enough to keep a collection in her cedar chest. Mamas are like that...yes, they are.When we moved to the city after the second grade, I read every horse book in the Tryon Hills Elementary School library. There was an entire section of Black Beauty, Black Stallion, Man 'O War, and Flicka books the librarian pointed out for me. Mom and Dad bought me a book titled, "The Horseman's Bible." I studied it "religiously", learning which side of the horse to mount, how to hold the reins, how to turn his head, how to make him stop and go. The desire got stronger. Oh, if only I could ride a horse...
Other than ponies at the amusement park or mechanical horses outside the grocery store, I never rode a real horse until we went on a trip to Cherokee, North Carolina when I was about ten or eleven. We came across a stable offering trail rides. Mama sat in the car...she wasn't too adventurous, but Daddy was. He was a big man...not tall, just wide. I remember him laughing and asking the trail guide for the biggest horse he had...one that could hold him. I chose a pinto...just like Little Joe's. I was too scared to look down from the drop offs along the trail. But, it was a little girl's dream come true--to be sitting on the back of a real, live horse.
You know, God must love horses as much as I do. The book of Revelation says that one day He's coming back on a white horse to conquer and destroy Satan and his minions once and forever. The Bible says he'll be accompanied by the armies of heaven, those redeemed by the blood of Jesus...also riding white horses. One day in heaven, I'll finally own a horse! Maybe Jesus will let me have a pinto...just like Little Joe's.
Revelation 19:11-14: "And I saw heaven opened, and behold, a white horse, and He who sat on it is called Faithful and True, and in righteousness He judges and wages war. His eyes are a flame of fire, and on His head are many diadems; and He has a name written on Him which no one knows except Himself. He is clothed with a robe dipped in blood, and His name is called The Word of God. And the armies which are in heaven, clothed in fine linen, white and clean, were following Him on white horses."Copyright 2011 Charlotte Laney
Sunday, August 21, 2011
Requiem for an Oak
As I grew and matured, so did the trees, anchoring their roots deep within the earth and their branches spread upwards toward the heavens. Days became months, months turned into years, and the trees continued to grow. They provided a home for countless numbers of birds and squirrels, while shading doghouses, our house, and eventually several of our neighbors' houses. Each fall they dropped thousands of leaves needing to be raked, bagged, or mulched...the downside of the shade they provided. My brother and I moved out and moved on with our lives, and five more grandchildren followed the first. I watched my parents progress from middle-age to old age. While their bodies grew frail and bent, the oak trees, still in their prime, stood straight, proud and strong. They thrived during times of gentle rain, torrential downpours, and long periods of drought. Their limbs were intertwined to withstand the wind, sleet, and snow of many winters.
On a September night in 1989, while Mom was confined to bed with broken vertebrae in her lower back, she prayed and sang hymns to God in the midst of Hurricane Hugo. She asked Him to protect her and Dad and to keep those trees from crashing into their home. God was faithful, because the trees survived with barely a lost limb. Hurricane Hugo made a direct hit on our city, and hundreds of trees were lost...but not the two in their backyard.
The grandchildren grew up...great-grandchildren were born. In 2005, after an eight year decline with Alzheimer's, Mom went to heaven to be with her Lord. Dad, missing her more each day, followed her less than a year and a half later. A few weeks ago, and just one week before the fifth anniversary of Daddy's death, we received a phone call from their former next door neighbor. One of the oak trees, now over six feet in diameter, without a sign of disease and no storm in sight, split apart--down to its roots. Apparently, the time had come for the tree to follow the man who planted it. Although it's sad to see a pile of mulch where the huge oak stood, I also realize the cyle of life goes on...in people and in nature. The oak's remains will warm homes and people this winter; its mulch protecting tender shrubs, tulip, crocus, and daffodil bulbs over winter--until they can burst forth with new life...in spring.
Copyright 2011 Charlotte Laney
Friday, August 19, 2011
All the Chickies Home to Roost
Today has also been a great day! Our son, daughter-in-law, and youngest grandson came for a short surprise visit last night from out of state. Our oldest son, daughter-in-law, granddaughter and grandson, who live about 30 minutes away, came to visit, today. When all the chickies are home to roost, mama hen is content.
I loved having a noisy house full of children playing with balls, trains, trucks, and cars. Even our big, black dog was excited to have everyone home. He loves children as much as he loves food (and that's saying a lot). He didn't even have to go to his bowl today, he was hand-fed by a one year old. Oh my, he is going to be spoiled!
The house is quiet now. Half the family has gone home, and the other half is off to bed. The littlest prince is sleeping on a stack of comfy quilts and comforters...softer than any mattress. Opie Taylor would call that "adventure sleeping".
In the den, next to me, lies the big, black dog. He's on his back, feet pointed toward heaven, jowls drooping, canines gleaming. He looks ferocious in this position, although he wouldn't hurt a fly. I've never seen a gentler dog, one who carefully takes each bite of kibble from the tiny fingers of the littlest prince.
Time for this worn-out Laney to follow the leaders and head for bed. Days and weeks like this can best be described by the poet, Browning: "God's in His heaven, and all's right with the world".
Copyright 2011 Charlotte Laney
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
Sorties at the Hummingbird Feeder
A sortie is an armed attack made from a place surrounded by enemy forces. I first became familiar with the term during the mid 1970's. Shortly after we were married, one of my husband's favorite TV shows was Baa Baa Black Sheep, starring Robert Conrad. The series was loosely based on the real life adventures of Col. Greg "Pappy" Boyington during World War II. Pappy Boyington was a hard-living flying ace with the United States Marines, leader of the famed Black Sheep Squadron, and credited with personally destroyng twenty-six Japanese fighter planes. Pappy Boyington was captured, held prisoner by the Japanese, later released, then awarded the Medal of Honor by President Franklin Roosevelt.
Whether or not my husband realized it at the time, I think his preference for his grandfather name, Pappy, to our three grandchildren was based on "Pappy" Boyington. (Well, it was either him or Popeye's daddy, right?) Who else is called, Pappy?
At our house, it's Pappy's job to refill and hang the hummingbird feeder. It's placed on a shepherd's hook in full view of the sofa in our den, so that we can watch their antics. They may be tiny, but they are fierce and protective of their turf. I've watched them run "sorties" in our backyard for several summers. If you look closely, you can often find them perched on a branch of a crepe myrtle or hybiscus, watchng the feeder. If an enemy approaches the feeder, they take off and the air fight is on. The Corsairs are taking on the Zeroes in the backyard! They are defending their property.
My devotions this morning were about the many names of God. While watching hummingbird "sorties" today, several came to mind. My God is Jehovah-Elohim, strong and mighty to be feared. He is Jehovah-Saboath, The Lord of Hosts who reigns over all of the angelic armies. He is Jehovan-Nissi, the God who fights my battles.
Is the "enemy" creeping in, surrounding your camp, threatening your territory? Are you attempting to fight battles in your own strength? You can't go up against the gates of hell armed with a water pistol. Loosen the death grip you have on your life, and let God run sorties for you. Have confidence in knowing that the Lord God Jehovah is strong and mighty, has angelic armies at His command, and He is willing and able to fight battles for His children.
"Oh, grant us help against the foe, for vain is the salvation of man! With God we shall do valiantly; it is he who will tread down our foes." Psalm 60:11-12
Copyright 2011 Charlotte Laney
Whether or not my husband realized it at the time, I think his preference for his grandfather name, Pappy, to our three grandchildren was based on "Pappy" Boyington. (Well, it was either him or Popeye's daddy, right?) Who else is called, Pappy?
At our house, it's Pappy's job to refill and hang the hummingbird feeder. It's placed on a shepherd's hook in full view of the sofa in our den, so that we can watch their antics. They may be tiny, but they are fierce and protective of their turf. I've watched them run "sorties" in our backyard for several summers. If you look closely, you can often find them perched on a branch of a crepe myrtle or hybiscus, watchng the feeder. If an enemy approaches the feeder, they take off and the air fight is on. The Corsairs are taking on the Zeroes in the backyard! They are defending their property.
My devotions this morning were about the many names of God. While watching hummingbird "sorties" today, several came to mind. My God is Jehovah-Elohim, strong and mighty to be feared. He is Jehovah-Saboath, The Lord of Hosts who reigns over all of the angelic armies. He is Jehovan-Nissi, the God who fights my battles.
Is the "enemy" creeping in, surrounding your camp, threatening your territory? Are you attempting to fight battles in your own strength? You can't go up against the gates of hell armed with a water pistol. Loosen the death grip you have on your life, and let God run sorties for you. Have confidence in knowing that the Lord God Jehovah is strong and mighty, has angelic armies at His command, and He is willing and able to fight battles for His children.
"Oh, grant us help against the foe, for vain is the salvation of man! With God we shall do valiantly; it is he who will tread down our foes." Psalm 60:11-12
Copyright 2011 Charlotte Laney
Monday, August 15, 2011
Bucket List Update
So after being unemployed five weeks, I decided to check up on my "bucket list" accomplishments. Accountability is a good thing, so how am I doing?
Copyright 2011 Charlotte Laney
- Laney's Musings blog - I've been faithfully blogging most days, and it's still fun. Guess I'll keep it up for awhile until it's more work than fun and I have nothing to say. I am amazed that in addition to the U.S., stats indicate "pages read" in seven countries. So blog checked off!
- Painting furniture for fun & profit- I've only painted a spice rack and a wooden crate. Very small check....my excuse, it's been too hot!
- EBay, Etsy, or Craigslist sales - Haven't even thought about it...it's too hot.
- Scrapbooking & organizing photos - Sorted one box of photos, scanned about 40 pictures, scrapbooked maybe 15 pages. Of course 8 of those pages were completed at Michael's Crop Event today. Money spent on scrapbooking supplies? My lips are sealed. Update...Robin, part-time Michael's employee mentioned in prior blog, got a promotion. No doubt due to the BFF's monthly purchases. Robin thanks you, Ethel! Of course, Lucy, is completely innocent in the matter...cough...cough. Has anyone noticed an increase in the value of their Michael's stocks in the past two months?
- Couponing - only coupons used were percents off at AC Moore and Michael's. Not doing so well on that one.
- Eating healthy - The Milano cookies are eaten, and once the Dove chocolates are gone (thanks to a sweet former employee)...I'll start on that!
- Organizing the house - went through maybe three drawers, threw out expired coupons, notes to self that made absolutely no sense, and phone numbers that I don't have a clue who they belong to. Reason for not doing more...it's been too hot!
- Working in the garden and flowers. Did more watching through the patio doors than working outside. Excuse...there are bees out there, and it's too hot!
- Spending more time with family and friends - Several lunches and dinners out with family and friends, a couple of sleepovers with the two oldest grandchildren, shopping with the BFF.
- Time for prayer & Bible study - Loving a slower morning routine and having time to enjoy God's creation. I'm two weeks into Beth Moore's "Whispers of Hope" prayer journal.
Copyright 2011 Charlotte Laney
Sunday, August 14, 2011
Abandoned In Somalia; Aborted in America
An article in the Nation & World section of the Charlotte Observer on August 12, 2011 quickly caught my attention. A photograph of a Somali child, looking more like a living skeleton than a boy, was shown waiting for food at a refugee camp. According to the author, drought and famine has forced 100,000 people to flee their homes to Mogadishu in search of food and water--in the past two months alone.
Malkhadir M. Muhumed said the U.S. estimates more than 29,000 Somali children younger than five have died from famine in the past three months. He states "an unknown number too weak to walk have been abandoned after food and water supplies ran out." ....Left alone to die when food and water ran out!
The article goes on to quote Dr. John Kivelenge, a mental health officer for the International Rescue Committee at Dadaab. It so parallels the aftermath of abortion in America, I was stunned. He said, "The picture of the children they abandoned behind will come back to them and haunt them. They will also have poor sleep and social problems."
If mothers and fathers who abandon their children to a sure death in Somalia are haunted with regret, would not mothers who abort their children in the U.S. feel remorse, too? If this is true, and I feel confident it is, why did North Carolina Governor Perdue feel compelled to veto a bill asking for a 24 hour waiting period for women seeking abortion? In her opinion, is twenty four hours' consideration too much to ask when deciding to end a life?
Excluding an unknown number of chemical abortions, here are the statistics for surgical and medical abortions in the U.S.:
Mourn the children of Somalia dying daily from disease, starvation, and abandonment. But mourn, too, over 51 million babies aborted in the U.S. since Roe v Wade. Thankfully, the North Carolina legislature overrode the Governor's veto of the abortion bill. Nevertheless, I will vote against Beverly Purdue on November 6, 2012--in support of the babies.
Sources:
Charlotte Observe Article, "Famine Forces Tortured Choices" by Malkhadir M. Muhumed http://www.charlotteobserver.com/2011/08/12/2521130_famine-forces-tortured-choices.html
American Life League http://www.all.org/nav/index/heading/OQ/cat/MzQ/id/NjA3OQ/
Copyright 2011 Charlotte Laney
Malkhadir M. Muhumed said the U.S. estimates more than 29,000 Somali children younger than five have died from famine in the past three months. He states "an unknown number too weak to walk have been abandoned after food and water supplies ran out." ....Left alone to die when food and water ran out!
The article goes on to quote Dr. John Kivelenge, a mental health officer for the International Rescue Committee at Dadaab. It so parallels the aftermath of abortion in America, I was stunned. He said, "The picture of the children they abandoned behind will come back to them and haunt them. They will also have poor sleep and social problems."
If mothers and fathers who abandon their children to a sure death in Somalia are haunted with regret, would not mothers who abort their children in the U.S. feel remorse, too? If this is true, and I feel confident it is, why did North Carolina Governor Perdue feel compelled to veto a bill asking for a 24 hour waiting period for women seeking abortion? In her opinion, is twenty four hours' consideration too much to ask when deciding to end a life?
Excluding an unknown number of chemical abortions, here are the statistics for surgical and medical abortions in the U.S.:
Total number of abortions in the U.S. since 1973: Over 51 million
Abortions per year: 1,200,000
Abortions per day: 3,288
Abortions per hour: 137
9 abortions every 4 minutes
1 abortion every 26 seconds
Abortions per year: 1,200,000
Abortions per day: 3,288
Abortions per hour: 137
9 abortions every 4 minutes
1 abortion every 26 seconds
Mourn the children of Somalia dying daily from disease, starvation, and abandonment. But mourn, too, over 51 million babies aborted in the U.S. since Roe v Wade. Thankfully, the North Carolina legislature overrode the Governor's veto of the abortion bill. Nevertheless, I will vote against Beverly Purdue on November 6, 2012--in support of the babies.
Charlotte Observe Article, "Famine Forces Tortured Choices" by Malkhadir M. Muhumed http://www.charlotteobserver.com/2011/08/12/2521130_famine-forces-tortured-choices.html
American Life League http://www.all.org/nav/index/heading/OQ/cat/MzQ/id/NjA3OQ/
Copyright 2011 Charlotte Laney
Friday, August 12, 2011
Writer's Knees
There's a new condition in the medical world. Seriously...it's called "Toasted Skin Syndrome". The culprit: spending too many hours a day with a laptop perched on your legs. Over time, the extreme heat on our skin can cause damage, much like sunburn.
So does that mean that instead of getting writer's cramp, I can get "writer's knees"? When I blog I rest my laptop on my knees, and unless the words flow quickly (sometimes they don't), my laptop heats up. Soon thereafter, my knees and thighs heat up too. It's an uncomfortable situation; but instead of taking the time to get out the laptop desk, I just wiggle the laptop from side to side to cool off. I think I should change my habits.
I am currently reading a devotional and prayer guide by Beth Moore, called "Whispers of Hope". I bought it at the GW and I'm just finishing up week two. Today's Bible study about prayer was from Daniel 6. You probably remember the story from childhood of how God spared Daniel's life when King Darius threw him into the den of lions. The part of the story that we usually overlook is how Daniel's habits placed him there.
Daniel was just a boy when he was taken captive in Jerusalem and transported over 500 miles to Babylon. But he never stopped serving the God of his people, even though he was in a pagan land. He was a faithful servant to the king and carried out the duties assigned to him with excellence. The king was so pleased with Daniel, he planned to make him ruler over the entire kingdom. The other presidents and satraps were jealous and plotted to destroy Daniel. When they could find no fault or complaint against his personal life or work ethic, they decided to use his faithfulness to the God of Israel against him. The rulers convinced King Darius to put a law into effect. This edict could not be changed. For a period of thirty days, the only person or god that could be petitioned was King Darius. Any offender would be put to death by being thrown to the hungry lions.
Daniel 6:10 says, "Now when Daniel knew that the document was signed, he entered his house (now in his roof chamber he had windows open toward Jerusalem); and he continued kneeling on his knees three times a day, praying and giving thanks before his God, as he had been doing previously."
Even though Daniel knew of the king's command, three times a day he knelt and openly worshipped and prayed to God...as was his habit. God blessed Daniel for his faithfulness by sparing his life and bringing glory to Himself. I feel sure God is more pleased with "praying knees" than "writer's knees".
Copyright 2011 Charlotte Laney
So does that mean that instead of getting writer's cramp, I can get "writer's knees"? When I blog I rest my laptop on my knees, and unless the words flow quickly (sometimes they don't), my laptop heats up. Soon thereafter, my knees and thighs heat up too. It's an uncomfortable situation; but instead of taking the time to get out the laptop desk, I just wiggle the laptop from side to side to cool off. I think I should change my habits.
I am currently reading a devotional and prayer guide by Beth Moore, called "Whispers of Hope". I bought it at the GW and I'm just finishing up week two. Today's Bible study about prayer was from Daniel 6. You probably remember the story from childhood of how God spared Daniel's life when King Darius threw him into the den of lions. The part of the story that we usually overlook is how Daniel's habits placed him there.
Daniel was just a boy when he was taken captive in Jerusalem and transported over 500 miles to Babylon. But he never stopped serving the God of his people, even though he was in a pagan land. He was a faithful servant to the king and carried out the duties assigned to him with excellence. The king was so pleased with Daniel, he planned to make him ruler over the entire kingdom. The other presidents and satraps were jealous and plotted to destroy Daniel. When they could find no fault or complaint against his personal life or work ethic, they decided to use his faithfulness to the God of Israel against him. The rulers convinced King Darius to put a law into effect. This edict could not be changed. For a period of thirty days, the only person or god that could be petitioned was King Darius. Any offender would be put to death by being thrown to the hungry lions.
Daniel 6:10 says, "Now when Daniel knew that the document was signed, he entered his house (now in his roof chamber he had windows open toward Jerusalem); and he continued kneeling on his knees three times a day, praying and giving thanks before his God, as he had been doing previously."
Even though Daniel knew of the king's command, three times a day he knelt and openly worshipped and prayed to God...as was his habit. God blessed Daniel for his faithfulness by sparing his life and bringing glory to Himself. I feel sure God is more pleased with "praying knees" than "writer's knees".
Copyright 2011 Charlotte Laney
Thursday, August 11, 2011
Simple Pleasures
Another simple pleasure is sleeping on a cold pillow. Sometimes I flip mine over and over during the night to keep it cold. Duh, Laney, that might have something to do with hormones! How about puppy breath? Don't you just love the smell of puppy breath? No, you say. But it's not dog breath; there's a big difference.
A child's belly-laugh is music to my ears. I heard a few of those tonight from my granddaughter, and it made me very happy. Puppy breath is nice, but there is no sweeter smell than a baby, just out of the bath, slathered in baby lotion! A hug is a simple pleasure, too. When coupled with an "I love you", it's even better.
My oldest son just returned from a missions trip to Nicaragua. We looked at some of his photos and videos over dinner tonight. I guess that's what triggered thoughts about the simple pleasures I take for granted.
He photographed a family scrounging for food at the town garbage dump. They were able to give them some food, but what about the next day, and the next? Kind of makes me feel guilty about my hidden stash of Dove chocolates. There was also a picture of a woman and girl carrying dirty plastic containers. Their village doesn't have a well, and they must walk a great distance to fill containers of water for their families. All I have to do is put my clean glass under the spout on my refrigerator door and it's instantly filled with cold, filtered water. That's a simple pleasure I haven't thanked God for recently.
I asked my husband tonight, "have you ever thought, a quadraplegic has to ask someone to scratch their nose when it itches?" I don't think I've ever thanked God for being able to scratch my nose. My husband will sleep next to me tonight. Husbands and wives with a spouse deployed to Iraq or Afghanistan will sleep alone tonight, hoping their loved one comes home alive.
A friend's daughter, once prayed before a meal, "Thank you for the plates on the table, and the pictures on the wall". Tonight before I go to sleep, I want to thank God for life's simple pleasures, my soft mattress, and my cold pillow. There are children in Nicaragua, and soldiers in Iraq and Afghanistan, who will be sleeping tonight on the cold, hard ground.
Copyright 2011 Charlotte Laney
Attitude Adjustments
The "squirrel" temperature gauge on the patio door says 84 degrees. But, you know, after near 100 degree days for the past two months, it feels downright cool outside. I love, love, love it! This is the kind of day I've been waiting for since I retired.
A soft breeze is blowing. The birds are happily singing. The sweetest big, black dog in the world is snoozing at my feet. The clothes hamper is "almost" empty and the drier is humming and clicking away in the background. God is good!
I've discovered a truth after many years on this earth. I choose whether or not to rejoice and be glad in my days. When we look for the bad, we won't be disappointed. We will most definitely find it. Thankfully, the converse is true as well. When we consciously look for good, we can find it, too.
I could have started my day with: Why is that bird chirping outside the window? It's annoying, and I need just thirty more minutes of sleep...My goodness, can you believe it's only 10:15 and it's already 84 degrees outside? Will these hot summer days never end? I can't believe it, I just washed clothes yesterday, and the hamper is full again! I need a new drier! This one is way too noisy and takes forever to dry clothes...Dog, will you PLEASE get out from under my feet! You eat like a horse, and I am getting tired of vacuuming your black hair from the carpet! Need I go on?
See what a difference our attitude makes when we look at life around us? Maybe today you need an attitude adjustment. We all do at times. When our lives are controlled by our emotions, surroundings, and circumstances, we will always end up feeling anxious, discontented, and unfulfilled. But a balanced life is a spirit-controlled life, giving us the remarkable ability to have peace and contentment in the bad times and in the good.
"Not that I speak from want, for I have learned to be content in whatever circumstances I am. I know how to get along with humble means, and I also know how to live in prosperity; in any and every circumstance I have learned the secret of being filled and going hungry, both of having abundance and suffering need. I can do all things through Him who strengthens me."
Philippians 4:11-13
Copyright 2011 Charlotte Laney
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
Oh, the Places You Will Go!
My mother always got a little melancholy every year in mid to late August. Since I worked at a school for twenty-six years, and was caught up in the process of a new school year beginning, I never quite understood why. Until now.
My granddaughter, Madi, and my great-nephew, RJ, will be starting their first day of "big school" in a few short weeks. That day all mothers, grandmothers, (and great-aunts) dread, when children loosen their grip on your hand...both literally, and figuratively.
The reality of it hit me Friday night when Blues Clues came on Nick Jr. About four years ago, Blues Clues was my re-introduction to children's TV shows after a long hiatus. It is a simple, low key, educational show for preschoolers, and Madi loved it. Friday night Madi informed me, "Laney, Blues Clues is for babies". What? No more Blues Clues. She's no longer a baby, but a "big girl"--starting kindergarten.
Sure, there's the excitement of buying new school clothes, back packs, crayons, pencils, and lunchboxes. And let's not forget the product that was never on my kids' list...hand sanitizer. Can you believe we actually survived all those years without it? Then, there is usually a week or so in August, a teaser of sorts, when the weather cools just a bit. My mom always recognized it--the end of summer and the start of school "blues clue", signaling that sad empty kind of feeling you get when you know you are about to lose something precious.
When the grands stay overnight, our bedtime ritual consists of reading several Dr. Seuss books. We laugh and laugh at the author's silliness. Oh, I dread the day Madi, Max, or Colson tell me that Dr. Seuss is for babies. His symbolism in "Oh, The Places You Will Go" isn't lost on me. I won't be reading it to the grand "babies" anytime soon. A box of tissues would be needed. The first time I heard it read was at my oldest son's high school graduation. Here's an excerpt from the book:
Oh! The Places You’ll Go!
by Dr. Seuss
"Congratulations!
Today is your day.
You’re off to Great Places!
You’re off and away!
Kid, you’ll move mountains!
...........
You have brains in your head.
You have feet in your shoes.
You can steer yourself
Any direction you choose.
You’re on your own. And
you know what you know.
And YOU are the guy who’ll
decide where to go."
........
And will you succeed?
Yes! You will, indeed!
(98 and ¾ percent guaranteed.)
So be your name Buxbaum or Bixby
or Brayor Modecai Ale Van Allen O' Shea
You’re off to Great Places!
Today is your day!
Your mountain is waiting.
So…get on your way!"
My ending added:
But wait...hold my hand,
You know in my mind,
Just babes, you are still,
Please..don't leave me behind!
Copyright 2011 Charlotte Laney
My granddaughter, Madi, and my great-nephew, RJ, will be starting their first day of "big school" in a few short weeks. That day all mothers, grandmothers, (and great-aunts) dread, when children loosen their grip on your hand...both literally, and figuratively.
The reality of it hit me Friday night when Blues Clues came on Nick Jr. About four years ago, Blues Clues was my re-introduction to children's TV shows after a long hiatus. It is a simple, low key, educational show for preschoolers, and Madi loved it. Friday night Madi informed me, "Laney, Blues Clues is for babies". What? No more Blues Clues. She's no longer a baby, but a "big girl"--starting kindergarten.
Sure, there's the excitement of buying new school clothes, back packs, crayons, pencils, and lunchboxes. And let's not forget the product that was never on my kids' list...hand sanitizer. Can you believe we actually survived all those years without it? Then, there is usually a week or so in August, a teaser of sorts, when the weather cools just a bit. My mom always recognized it--the end of summer and the start of school "blues clue", signaling that sad empty kind of feeling you get when you know you are about to lose something precious.
When the grands stay overnight, our bedtime ritual consists of reading several Dr. Seuss books. We laugh and laugh at the author's silliness. Oh, I dread the day Madi, Max, or Colson tell me that Dr. Seuss is for babies. His symbolism in "Oh, The Places You Will Go" isn't lost on me. I won't be reading it to the grand "babies" anytime soon. A box of tissues would be needed. The first time I heard it read was at my oldest son's high school graduation. Here's an excerpt from the book:
Oh! The Places You’ll Go!
by Dr. Seuss
"Congratulations!
Today is your day.
You’re off to Great Places!
You’re off and away!
Kid, you’ll move mountains!
...........
You have brains in your head.
You have feet in your shoes.
You can steer yourself
Any direction you choose.
You’re on your own. And
you know what you know.
And YOU are the guy who’ll
decide where to go."
........
And will you succeed?
Yes! You will, indeed!
(98 and ¾ percent guaranteed.)
So be your name Buxbaum or Bixby
or Brayor Modecai Ale Van Allen O' Shea
You’re off to Great Places!
Today is your day!
Your mountain is waiting.
So…get on your way!"
My ending added:
But wait...hold my hand,
You know in my mind,
Just babes, you are still,
Please..don't leave me behind!
Copyright 2011 Charlotte Laney
Monday, August 8, 2011
Cautions, Yellow Flags and Pit Stops
Living in the South, Nascar racing is a big deal. Our city is home to the Nascar Hall of Fame and Charlotte Motor Speedway. Other than dirt-track, I have never been to a race, and don't foresee it in my future. I don't think I would get all warm and fuzzy listening to "vroom-vroom-vroom" for four to six hours while dodging beer cans and flying turkey legs. Don't take offense, my friends and family who madly love it! It just isn't for me.
Even though I don't follow racing, I recognize parallels between racing and the Christian life. A driver preparing for a race must be properly clothed--fire suit, gloves, racing boots, and helmet. Race cars are specially outfitted also; not just for speed, but driver protection as well. They are designed with roll cages, special seats, harnesses, fire extinguishers, and communiation devices.
When faced with life's cautions, yellow flags, and pit stops, Christians must put on God's protective armor. Without it, we cannot stand strong..or stand long.
Drafting is a practice commonly used in racing. Racers position themselves closely behind the car in front of them, reducing air resistance on both cars, the first pulling the second car along, lessening engine exertion, and actually increasing speed for both cars. Likewise, we should stay close to Jesus, relying on His strength and direction.
Copyright 2011 Charlotte Laney
Even though I don't follow racing, I recognize parallels between racing and the Christian life. A driver preparing for a race must be properly clothed--fire suit, gloves, racing boots, and helmet. Race cars are specially outfitted also; not just for speed, but driver protection as well. They are designed with roll cages, special seats, harnesses, fire extinguishers, and communiation devices.
When faced with life's cautions, yellow flags, and pit stops, Christians must put on God's protective armor. Without it, we cannot stand strong..or stand long.
- "Therefore put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand. 14 Stand firm then, with the belt of truth buckled around your waist, with the breastplate of righteousness in place, 15 and with your feet fitted with the readiness that comes from the gospel of peace. 16 In addition to all this, take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one. 17 Take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God." Ephesians 6:13-17
- "And pray in the Spirit on all occasions with all kinds of prayers and requests. With this in mind, be alert and always keep on praying for all the Lord’s people." Ephesians 6:18
- "Not forsaking our own assembling together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another, and all the more as you see the day drawing near." Hebrews 10:25
- "And if one can overpower him who is alone, two can resist him. A cord of three strands is not quickly torn apart." Ecclesiastes 4:12
Drafting is a practice commonly used in racing. Racers position themselves closely behind the car in front of them, reducing air resistance on both cars, the first pulling the second car along, lessening engine exertion, and actually increasing speed for both cars. Likewise, we should stay close to Jesus, relying on His strength and direction.
- "But those who hope in the LORD will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint." Isaiah 40:31
- "I have not achieved it, but I focus on this one thing: Forgetting the past and looking forward to what lies ahead, I press on to reach the end of the race and receive the heavenly prize." Philippians 3:13
- "I have fought the good fight, I have finished the course, I have kept the faith;" 2 Timothy 4:7
Copyright 2011 Charlotte Laney
Friday, August 5, 2011
Ministering Without Words
Ministering Without Words
My dad had a vivid memory, from his earliest childhood years to his late eighties. I must have inherited some of that ability from Daddy,
When I was five or six, our nearest neighbor was an old man whose wife had passed away. Barely getting by on the income gained from the watermelons he grew and sold, many afternoons he would appear at our house at dinner time. My mother would ask if he would like to come in and eat. I don't think he ever did, but Mama would fill a plate with food for him to take home for later. Often when the plate was returned, it would be refilled and sent again.
I called our neighbor Mr. Tom. I doubt Mr. Tom's house ever had a coat of paint, outside or in, but the beautiful wisteria draping the front porch was its one redeeming feature. There is no sweeter smell than blooming wisteria.
It's possible I was in Mr. Tom's home more than once, but I only remember one time. He was very sick, dangerous for an old person who was already in poor health. Mama and I walked the quarter mile or so to his house to check on him. I'm sure the door was unlocked. I doubt many country people locked their doors in the late 1950's. We must have just knocked and walked in. The room was dark and quiet, except for the ticking of a clock. Everything smelled old and musty and Mr. Tom was in bed. It was a huge bed...at least it seemed huge to a little girl.
But my most vivid memory, one I have thought of over and over throughout the years, is seeing our pastor, Z. Miller Freeman, on his hands and knees. But... he wasn't praying by Mr. Tom's bedside. He was in the old man's kitchen, with a pail and a brush, scrubbing the dirty floor. I didn't understand then, but I do now. That day I witnessed something special...uncommon humility, a shepherd's heart, and a picture of Christ!
What Pastor Freeman did, he did from a heart of love and compassion. The events of that day, witnessed by God and a little girl, set a high standard for pastors. Whenever you read the account in John 13 of Jesus washing the feet of His disciples, envision a simple country pastor...on his knees, ministering without words.
Luke 1:47-49 "And my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, for he has looked on the humble estate of his servant. For behold, from now on all generations will call me blessed; for he who is mighty has done great things for me, and holy is his name."
Copyright 2011 Charlotte Laney
When I was five or six, our nearest neighbor was an old man whose wife had passed away. Barely getting by on the income gained from the watermelons he grew and sold, many afternoons he would appear at our house at dinner time. My mother would ask if he would like to come in and eat. I don't think he ever did, but Mama would fill a plate with food for him to take home for later. Often when the plate was returned, it would be refilled and sent again.
I called our neighbor Mr. Tom. I doubt Mr. Tom's house ever had a coat of paint, outside or in, but the beautiful wisteria draping the front porch was its one redeeming feature. There is no sweeter smell than blooming wisteria.
But my most vivid memory, one I have thought of over and over throughout the years, is seeing our pastor, Z. Miller Freeman, on his hands and knees. But... he wasn't praying by Mr. Tom's bedside. He was in the old man's kitchen, with a pail and a brush, scrubbing the dirty floor. I didn't understand then, but I do now. That day I witnessed something special...uncommon humility, a shepherd's heart, and a picture of Christ!
What Pastor Freeman did, he did from a heart of love and compassion. The events of that day, witnessed by God and a little girl, set a high standard for pastors. Whenever you read the account in John 13 of Jesus washing the feet of His disciples, envision a simple country pastor...on his knees, ministering without words.
Luke 1:47-49 "And my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, for he has looked on the humble estate of his servant. For behold, from now on all generations will call me blessed; for he who is mighty has done great things for me, and holy is his name."
Copyright 2011 Charlotte Laney
Thursday, August 4, 2011
Pencils on the Ceiling
When my youngest son, now a Youth Pastor in another state, was in the first grade, his teacher was a young single woman, fresh out of college. After all these years, it is still my opinion she was not "God-called", but instead Mama-called, to be a teacher. I don't think she loved little boys, particularly those who marched to the beat of a different drummer, and didn't meet her perfect student criteria.
We had not even completed the first week of school when the first discipline note came home for our signature. I don't even recall the infraction, but it was probably something like this..."playing in the bathroom", "talking too much", "horseplay at the water fountain', "Sticking pencils in ceiling tiles while teacher was out of the room"....
When the note was brought home, my husband gave him a stern talking to, and quite possibly a swat or two to the backside, with the threat...."You had better not bring home another discipline note. Do you understand?".....followed by, "Yes sir".
As I have mentioned before, I worked in the Business Office at the school where my sons attended. A few days later, in marches my son's teacher, red-faced and angry. She sweeps out another discipline note; one I had not seen. Holding it towards me, she said, "I want you to look at this discipline note...This is forgery!"
Forgery by a six year old. You have got to be kidding me. I'm sure I made her angrier still, because when I looked at it, I started to laugh. In the childish scribble of a six year old, in all caps on the parent's signature line, was only one word....."BOB".
Our little son was faced with a dilemma. Daddy said, "do not bring home another discipline note...or else". His teacher said, "get this discipline note signed and return it tomorrow". So, he created his own solution. Not a good solution, but a solution.
In retrospect, we realized we should have been more careful in how we worded our discipline. Don't make it impossible for your children to come to you when they need to confess. Keep comunication lines open. Children should feel free to discuss anything with you, as long as it is done in a respectful manner.
It was a long time before I let our son know that I thought what he had done was funny. And I must confess, throughout that first grade year, I prayed many times his teacher would someday have a house full of rambunctious boys.
Hopefully over the years, she gained a little wisdom and learned that we are all in need of a little mercy. Aren't you glad that God never gives up on us? He sees our potential when others may never give us a second glance.
Copyright 2011 Charlotte Laney
We had not even completed the first week of school when the first discipline note came home for our signature. I don't even recall the infraction, but it was probably something like this..."playing in the bathroom", "talking too much", "horseplay at the water fountain', "Sticking pencils in ceiling tiles while teacher was out of the room"....
When the note was brought home, my husband gave him a stern talking to, and quite possibly a swat or two to the backside, with the threat...."You had better not bring home another discipline note. Do you understand?".....followed by, "Yes sir".
As I have mentioned before, I worked in the Business Office at the school where my sons attended. A few days later, in marches my son's teacher, red-faced and angry. She sweeps out another discipline note; one I had not seen. Holding it towards me, she said, "I want you to look at this discipline note...This is forgery!"
Forgery by a six year old. You have got to be kidding me. I'm sure I made her angrier still, because when I looked at it, I started to laugh. In the childish scribble of a six year old, in all caps on the parent's signature line, was only one word....."BOB".
Our little son was faced with a dilemma. Daddy said, "do not bring home another discipline note...or else". His teacher said, "get this discipline note signed and return it tomorrow". So, he created his own solution. Not a good solution, but a solution.
In retrospect, we realized we should have been more careful in how we worded our discipline. Don't make it impossible for your children to come to you when they need to confess. Keep comunication lines open. Children should feel free to discuss anything with you, as long as it is done in a respectful manner.
It was a long time before I let our son know that I thought what he had done was funny. And I must confess, throughout that first grade year, I prayed many times his teacher would someday have a house full of rambunctious boys.
Hopefully over the years, she gained a little wisdom and learned that we are all in need of a little mercy. Aren't you glad that God never gives up on us? He sees our potential when others may never give us a second glance.
Copyright 2011 Charlotte Laney
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
But for the Grace of God...It Could Be Me
While on a mission trip to Nicaragua this week, my oldest son posted a picture on his Facebook profile of a street person in Managua or Matagalpa. It could have been taken in my city, or yours, or in any major city of the world. Such desperation is pictured there--a thin man, shabbily dressed, whose shoes appear to be wrapped in plastic, surrounded by what may be his life's possessions.
Most of us come face to face with men and women like him every day. Maybe it is someone who came to hard times at no fault of their own...a lost job, unable to find another, now homeless. Possibly you've seen her strutting on a street corner late at night. She's sold her body for years to support her insatiable need for drugs and alcohol. Her face, once beautiful, is now aged beyond her years. Of course, there's the man who sits at the traffic light on your way to work, or home from church. He holds his sign, "Homeless-Need Food". You wonder, is he really homeless or just trying to take advantage of your caring nature? Driving downtown for a show or dinner, there sits a group of men on your left sharing a brown-bagged bottle of cheap wine. They wait for the shelter doors to open, hoping for a few hours of air conditioning, and rest on a cot instead of the hard ground.My first reaction is to turn my head and pretend I don't see them. I don't want to face the grim reality that life is bleak for a large percentage of the world's population. But for the grace of God that could be me--or someone I love. What if I resist the temptation to look away and actually make eye contact? Can I choke down my self-righteousness, loathing and disgust, and tap into God's love and compassion? He died for them...the same as he died for me. He loves them, just as much as he loves me.
All my life I've heard the term, they "fell into sin"? I have an image of taking a short-cut through a cemetery alone at night. There is no moonlight or star shine to light my way. As I hold my hands in front of me trying to find my way home, I stumble and fall into an open grave. The sides are so slick and steep, I can't climb out. Isn't that a frightening image?
Does it matter why I was taking a short-cut, or why I was alone? Should I be condemned for not carrying a flashlight to light the path, or for making such a foolish decision? The end result is the same; I am in a hopeless situation with seemingly no way out! But then, my Jesus came--offering hope, redemption, rescue, forgiveness, provision, healing, a family, and an eternal home.
"When Jesus spoke again to the people, he said, “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.” John 8:12
"For whoever keeps the whole law and yet stumbles at just one point is guilty of breaking all of it." James 2:10
"He said to them, 'Go into all the world and preach the good news to all creation. Whoever believes and is baptized will be saved, but whoever does not believe will be condemned." Mark 16:15-16
"For the Son of Man came to seek and to save what was lost." Luke 19:10
"Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength. The second is this: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ There is no commandment greater than these.” Mark 12:30-31
"Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world." James 1:27
When I am tempted to turn my head...instead I should pray. "Jesus, I know you died for them, just as you died for me. Give me a loving heart full of compassion. If I can be used in some way to bring them to your feet, I am willing. But if not me, please God, send someone who can."
Copyright 2011 Charlotte Laney
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
Blog Around the World
When I started blogging a month and a half ago, I thought this would just be a fun thing to try. I've always been a little shy, and communicate much better writing than speaking. What started out as a whim, is now becoming an obsession. The obsession has nothing to do with the writing. That has been a nice creative outlet for recording memories, thoughts, opinions, and nonsense I've kept inside for years. I bet my blood pressure has lowered ten points since I started blogging...but then again, that might be attributed to not working!
My obsession is with "stats". If you've ever written a blog, you probably know all about stats. It's that section of blog design with maps, charts, and all sorts of statistical data. Stats track what browser was used (Internet Explorer, Safari, Chrome, Firefox). Operating systems are also tracked (Macintosh, Windows, Linux, iPhone, Blackberry, or iPad). Blah, blah, blah..I'm not a techie, so that's not important to me. What I want really want to know (several times a day) is anyone, other than me, reading my ramblings?
Well, I've just discovered something in stats. Besides the United States, at least one of my rants has been read in the United Kingdom, several in Germany, one in Taiwan, and today one in Australia, and another one today in Nicaragua, thanks to my son on a mission trip. Is that not the coolest thing?!! How all but my son found me, I haven't a clue. But just to think that my thoughts, without ever leaving home, have connected with people all over the world. It's amazing!
When I left my employment last month, I prayed that God would increase my circle of influence. That seemed to be an impossibility when, in actuality, some days I may not speak with anyone other my dog or my family. But my God is a big God. He is showing me daily that with Him, it can truly be a small world after all!
So if you travel outside the United States, please read my blog in a foreign country. Okay, you don't even have to read it, just click on the link; I'll never know the difference. It'll make my day--plus color in another country on my stats map.
I Chronicles 4:10: "And Jabez called on the God of Israel saying, 'Oh, that You would bless me indeed, and enlarge my territory, that Your hand would be with me, and that You would keep me from evil, that I may not cause pain.' So God granted him what he requested".
Copyright 2011 Charlotte Laney
My obsession is with "stats". If you've ever written a blog, you probably know all about stats. It's that section of blog design with maps, charts, and all sorts of statistical data. Stats track what browser was used (Internet Explorer, Safari, Chrome, Firefox). Operating systems are also tracked (Macintosh, Windows, Linux, iPhone, Blackberry, or iPad). Blah, blah, blah..I'm not a techie, so that's not important to me. What I want really want to know (several times a day) is anyone, other than me, reading my ramblings?
Well, I've just discovered something in stats. Besides the United States, at least one of my rants has been read in the United Kingdom, several in Germany, one in Taiwan, and today one in Australia, and another one today in Nicaragua, thanks to my son on a mission trip. Is that not the coolest thing?!! How all but my son found me, I haven't a clue. But just to think that my thoughts, without ever leaving home, have connected with people all over the world. It's amazing!
When I left my employment last month, I prayed that God would increase my circle of influence. That seemed to be an impossibility when, in actuality, some days I may not speak with anyone other my dog or my family. But my God is a big God. He is showing me daily that with Him, it can truly be a small world after all!
So if you travel outside the United States, please read my blog in a foreign country. Okay, you don't even have to read it, just click on the link; I'll never know the difference. It'll make my day--plus color in another country on my stats map.
I Chronicles 4:10: "And Jabez called on the God of Israel saying, 'Oh, that You would bless me indeed, and enlarge my territory, that Your hand would be with me, and that You would keep me from evil, that I may not cause pain.' So God granted him what he requested".
Copyright 2011 Charlotte Laney
Monday, August 1, 2011
Freedom or the Need to Please
When you pass fifty, you've experienced a lot of life, and formed plenty of opinions as well. I've reached a point in my life, with a little silver in my hair, that I no longer feel the need to please everyone.
When you are a child, you should be obedient to your parents. To survive your childhood, you must play nice and get along with your siblings. Students strive to please their teachers to get good grades...well, at least I did. As a teen needing acceptance and the desire to fit in, many foolishly conform to please their peers. And we all know that as an employee needing a paycheck to put food on the table and a roof over our heads, we absolutely must please our employers. For a successful marriage, and to have peace at home, one should definitely make every effort to please their spouse.
Well, my parents are no longer living; my studies are far behind me; and for almost a month, I've been unemployed. Here's what I've learned about life: my true friends like me just as I am; my family must tolerate me since--"we're related"; and as long as I still please my husband (the love of my life), and my Savior, Jesus Christ, it's all good! I kind of like having the freedom to be me.
I'm not saying we should ever disregard the feelings of others with hurtful actions or words. It really is a stupid saying, "Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me". We all know better, words do hurt...for a lifetime. What I am saying, in Southern-speak, is don't "put on airs", or be a people-pleaser, or someone you are not. Don't follow the crowd just to be popular. The crowd won't be there to pick you up when you fall. Never remain silent when you should be defending. Express your convictions without apology; love the things that God loves, and hate the things that God hates. And if the Holy Spirit urges you to raise your hands in worship, at home or in public, don't be embarrassed or stress over what others may think. If you are God's child, you are FREE...and it's ALL GOOD!
I Am Free - Worship Video
John 8:36: "So if the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed."
Matthew 10:32: “Whoever acknowledges me before others, I will also acknowledge before my Father in heaven."
I Peter 3:15: "But in your hearts set apart Christ as Lord. Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have. But do this with gentleness and respect."
Psalm 134:2: "Lift up your hands in the sanctuary, and bless the LORD."
Copyright 2011 Charlotte Laney
When you are a child, you should be obedient to your parents. To survive your childhood, you must play nice and get along with your siblings. Students strive to please their teachers to get good grades...well, at least I did. As a teen needing acceptance and the desire to fit in, many foolishly conform to please their peers. And we all know that as an employee needing a paycheck to put food on the table and a roof over our heads, we absolutely must please our employers. For a successful marriage, and to have peace at home, one should definitely make every effort to please their spouse.
Well, my parents are no longer living; my studies are far behind me; and for almost a month, I've been unemployed. Here's what I've learned about life: my true friends like me just as I am; my family must tolerate me since--"we're related"; and as long as I still please my husband (the love of my life), and my Savior, Jesus Christ, it's all good! I kind of like having the freedom to be me.
I'm not saying we should ever disregard the feelings of others with hurtful actions or words. It really is a stupid saying, "Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me". We all know better, words do hurt...for a lifetime. What I am saying, in Southern-speak, is don't "put on airs", or be a people-pleaser, or someone you are not. Don't follow the crowd just to be popular. The crowd won't be there to pick you up when you fall. Never remain silent when you should be defending. Express your convictions without apology; love the things that God loves, and hate the things that God hates. And if the Holy Spirit urges you to raise your hands in worship, at home or in public, don't be embarrassed or stress over what others may think. If you are God's child, you are FREE...and it's ALL GOOD!
I Am Free - Worship Video
John 8:36: "So if the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed."
Matthew 10:32: “Whoever acknowledges me before others, I will also acknowledge before my Father in heaven."
I Peter 3:15: "But in your hearts set apart Christ as Lord. Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have. But do this with gentleness and respect."
Psalm 134:2: "Lift up your hands in the sanctuary, and bless the LORD."
Copyright 2011 Charlotte Laney
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