We don’t have any dogs of our own. When we come to our cabin the neighbor’s dog comes to visit. We call him our “grand dog.” Yesterday evening he made his rounds. We were sitting on the porch and we saw him come our way. He had something else on his mind. He didn’t come by at first. We were so disappointed. However, a little later he made his appearance. He looked so much better than he had looked on previous visits. His coat was shiny. No sores or ticks. We loved on him like any good grandparent does. I didn’t have a juicy piece of meat to give him like I usually have. It was our first day here and we hadn’t cooked yet. So, I scrounged around in the kitchen and came up with a half of a pimento cheese sandwich and four sweet potato fries. Left overs from my recent trip with my Sunday school class lovingly known at the W. O. L. F pack (women of living faith.) I really figured he wouldn’t eat it but he engulfed it in a minute flat. The next thing I knew my hubby was right in the middle of the floor with him.  They had such a good time wresting and tussling around. He must have worn him out because he plopped down, flat on his stomach and laid his head down on his crossed paws. “He looks sad to me,” I suggested. My hubby agreed. There's just something in his eyes. We talked about his family and agreed that if we lived in a dysfunctional family like hers, we would be sad too. She lives with a mean bulldog. Not sure what kind he is. He’s loud and angry. His owner definitely wants him that way for some reason. We started talking about that he might be sick. Don’t really know where that came from other than he just looked really tired in his eyes. My hubby made the comment that almost made me cry. He looked at him and held his little face and said, “I wonder if I will see you in heaven one day?” Instantly, I envisioned my hubby standing in heaven, and out of no where here he comes, bounding as fast as he could up to him. And he said to him, “Well hey there Jasmine.” You know I never thought about that very much, dogs going to heaven.

I know that people love their dogs. I have always loved mine too. I know some might not be very happy with my opinion. But, I just can't understand why they take them everywhere they go. I mean, it's a lot of trouble. It's like taking your children shopping. It isn't fun! Everywhere I go I see people with their dogs. Today I saw a couple in the grocery store. The lady was pushing the grocery cart and her husband was pushing their dog in this stroller type gadget, following along behind her. I must confess. I shook my head in disbelief. My thought was, “Can’t they go anywhere without there dogs?” I guess I'm just old fashioned. My dogs stayed at home. It’s a different time for sure.

 I remember my daddy had an old hunting dog named, Joe. I barely remember him. I do remember him going with us one time in the woods to look for a Christmas tree. Apparently my sister loved him, because I still remember the look on their faces the day we buried him in our yard. My daddy and sister cried. I didn't understand why. I didn’t know him that well. I had a couple of dogs growing up that were my buds. One was named Trouble. I have no idea what breed he was. Just a solid black dog. He was my childhood playmate. Like his owner, he was always into something. We had a lot of fun together. Not sure how old he was but  he started swelling and we took him to the vet. The vet told us he had heart worms. There was nothing we could do. It was a sad day for me and my mama. I didn't know that she was that close to him. But, I remember her crying too. My other running buddy was half shepherd and collie. Unlike Trouble, he was a pretty dog. Sweet dog too, but he couldn’t stay at home. He was constantly going across the road from our house to investigate at the park near the creek. We fed him, but I guess it wasn't interesting enough for him. The delectable treasures that others left behind were just too tempting. Poor dog got run over so many times that he could barely walk. He never learned. It was what ended him. Later on when I got married and had kids we had a dog named Choco. I guess she reminded us of a cup of hot chocolate with marsh mellows on top. She was a homeless poodle. Someone asked my husband if we wanted her. We loved her. Such a pretty dog. We kept her groomed. I remember when we picked her up they always had bows in her hair. She slept at the foot of my bed every night. I remember one night I laid my hands on her and prayed for her when she was sick. The saddest thing happened though. After my divorce, I moved to another town. A new house. Choco had started losing her eyesight before we moved. I heard that poodles commonly get cataracts.  One morning, I let her out like I always did and she must have wondered off a little too far. She got lost. I never found her. That's the last dog that I had. That was around 33 years ago.

Haven’t thought about these dogs in years and years. Not until we got our grand dog. But, now, that I think about it...dogs have just got to be in heaven. Heaven is the happiest place that we could ever imagine. I can’t think of many things that have made me happier than my dogs

I hope to see you again one day; Trouble, Teddy, Old Joe, Choco, and Jasmine…

sammie jean

grace...

I grew up in a home with two coaches. Yes, I know what you're thinking. And you are exactly right. It was very tough at times. But, they were good parents. They provided everything I needed. I don't ever remember a time growing up that I didn't have everything I needed physically. Emotionally was a different story.  Mama was always available. Daddy wasn't. He was always working or doing something. He stayed busy. I remember in our earlier years after he worked all day he would referee basketball games at night. Mama came home every night after work and cooked a big supper. My senior year of high school was the first year that girls had sports in Florida. Mama coached volleyball, softball, and track, coming home late, cooking supper and starting all over again the next day. I saw what was important. I learned what a strong work ethic looked like. I remember on a few occasions, I would wake up in the mornings not feeling very well.  It didn't matter if I didn't feel well or not. I can hear mama now. "Sammie jean get dressed. You will feel better when you get to school." The truth is on most occasions, I did. But, on some, I ended up in the clinic on a cot. When I was much younger, I went to my granny's and poppy's across the street from the school. They were running my mama's and daddy's little hamburger and french fry grill. I would often just complain to get to go over there and get special attention from granny. But, that's another story. I grew up realizing that there would be no slouching going on in our family. Whatever you did you tried to do it well. Performance was very important. It was almost like life was a game. You had to play hard. You had to perform well. Not only for yourself but for everyone else too. "You had to give it all you got," daddy would say. Loafing was just plain out unacceptable. Expectations were pretty high. If you were good enough to win, well, that's when everyone would be proud of you. And, if you played extremely well...you might even get a pat on your back and a "that a girl." Compliments were not just handed out in our family. You had to earn them. I learned to be a people pleaser. I found myself doing a lot of things to get attention. I climbed to the top of the gym on a rope one time all because my daddy wanted to show me off in front of the boys in his Physical Education class.  I was definitely a performer. I worked hard for attention. Especially his. Becoming a cheerleader was a natural fit. I was good at it and I loved all of the attention. The sad thing was, I'm pretty sure that I lost a lot of myself in the performance.

After high school, I got married and had children. That didn't turn out very well. My life didn't turn out as I planned. Because of the mindset that had been ingrained in me, I felt like a total failure. I didn't love myself. I didn't even like myself very much. I  remember going to a new church around that period of time. It was a Sunday morning. My daughter was with me. She was 7 years old. In fact it was because of her that I went. We sang a song. I don't remember the name of it. But, it had words in it about how much God loved me. For the first time in a very long time, or it might have been the first time ever, I heard Him say directly to me, "I love you." It was so audible that it was like I had to look around to see if others heard it too. What? I couldn't believe what I heard and felt in my heart. I felt that my life was pretty worthless and...you're telling me that you still love me? I'm sorry, but I was conditioned to believe if you didn't perform well you didn't really get a pat on the back. I can say without a doubt in my mind that, that was the most profound thing that has ever happened to me. I was totally loved and accepted by God of the universe. And somehow... I believed Him.

When my marriage ended in divorce it was the hardest thing that I have ever had to do. I had so much trouble accepting my failure. I remember daddy was not very happy about it. I could see it on his face and in his eyes. Mama was just quiet. Even as a grown adult with children, I still wanted their approval. I needed some form of validation from them. Just say something, anything. But, what I really longed for them to say was, "Okay you messed up. Things didn't turn out the way we all wanted it to, but, we still love you." I eventually had to realize that I was just not going to get those words from him. You know, my daddy was probably raised the very same way. And his daddy. And his daddy too. Always working hard for approval, but never getting it. I came to the realization that as parents we do the best we can with what we have. I believe the adage is true, when you know better, you do better.

I do understand now. I understand that I live my life for a heavenly audience; My Father, His son Jesus, and Holy Spirit. They are cheering me on. They cheer me on whether I have a good day or a bad day. Whether I perform well or not. Their love is unconditional.

 Although it's nice to have others "'at a girl" me, I don't have to have it.

This morning, as I was walking, my heart heavy for my grandson, praying and listening to the same song that I have listened to for one-million times*, Holy Spirit dropped this into my spirit. If you have received my grace and mercy for your life, why don't you have grace and mercy for others? Especially the ones that you love the most?  After some brief introspection, you know how I had to answer that? Really answer it? It's because they have to earn it. They have to perform how I think they should perform in order to receive my praise. Oh. My. Goodness. Talking about things coming full circle.💞 I quickly understood. At this very moment, my grandson needed to know that I loved him no matter what. His performance did not effect my relationship with him.

 My prayer for him and all my grands is that they realize how much Jesus loves them and how much He wants a relationship with them. No matter how they act or what they do.

Lord, please forgive me. Create in me a clean heart. Change the way that I think. Change the way that I speak. May my conversations with others be full of grace ❤   

Thank you for always loving me (regardless of my performance) 💕

sammie jean

*I was found
 before I was lost
I was yours
before I was not
grace to spare
for all my mistakes
and that part just wrecks me

And I know I don't deserve this
kind of love
somehow this kind of love is
who you are
It's a grace I could never add up
to be somebody you still want
but somehow
you love me as you find me

Hillsong United

summer draws to an end...

Right in the middle of the dog days of  summer and it's hot!. Its always hot in the summer but, I think this has been the hottest summer of my lifetime. Living in Florida is not for the wimpy. Thank you Lord for air conditioning. I do venture out to my front porch though; usually in the early mornings and late evenings. In fact, it's the first place I go every morning with a cup of coffee. I was sitting there a few days ago with my striped pink, green and white slippers on my feet when a pretty little gold butterfly just flew right up and landed there.  He sat. And he sat. His golden wings hardly still for a moment. Where is my camera when I need it? They seem to be drawn to my little flower garden that is right off the porch. I often sit and watch them flutter from one flower to another. There have been times this summer that I counted as many as fifteen on my Lantana. They don't have a care in the world. My flowers, on the other hand, take quite a beating by the summer rays. They love the sun at the beginning of summer but by the end of summer they are quite droopy. 💮

Always loved the summers when I was growing up. When I think of summer, I always think of swimming in the icy cold waters of  the creek across from our house. My fingers swiveled up so tight that I could barely move them and my lips as blue as a corpse, but that creek still holds a lot of special memories. I remember climbing a huge oak tree and swinging from a rope hanging in it. Eventually dropping hundreds of feet below into the refreshing waters of Holmes Creek.  There is no telling how old that tree is or the rope either. I had an old inner tube that daddy got from somewhere to float down the creek. The swift currents would take me far off if I didn't pay close attention to where I was going. It was easy to lose focus and time in those waters.

 I grew up taking swimming lessons at the local pool in a nearby town during the summer. I could pretty much swim like a fish. Swimming lessons in the morning and splashing in the creek in the afternoons. We were transported in the mornings by school bus from our school to a nearby town for swimming lessons. My daddy drove it most of the time. He taught tennis lessons while my sister and I took swimming lessons. After the lessons were over we all took just enough money to buy an ice cream cone dipped in chocolate at the Dairy Dip, next door to the pool. We then went home for lunch. Mama had it ready when we walked in the door. You know how it is when you've been swimming? You feel like you could eat a mule. After lunch we went back to the school for arts and crafts and an occasional movie. My favorite was arts and crafts. Loved Ms. Franz. She was a quirky lady but boy howdy was she crafty. I modeled little clay bowls and figures with my hands. She put them in the kiln that she had at school to let them dry. Don't remember how long it took but after they were ready I painted them. My favorite thing though was to make pot holders with those little colored stretchy pieces of cloth that you pull onto a frame. I can't even begin to tell you how many of those I made for my mama. I wish I still had one.

Summers over for all the kiddies around here and schools back in. It seems so early. Didn't we use to  start after Labor Day? I always enjoy looking at the pictures that parents post of their kids first day of school in their spiffy new clothes. They look so eager and ready to start a new school year...until they get home from school that day. They exclaim, " I got to wear my new clothes and I saw all my friends, so now I don't need to go back." I saw a funny picture of an elementary age child.  It was a before and after day at school shot.  On the left side of the page, the picture was perfect; the child's clothes were so neat, and not a hair out of place. The picture on the right side was quite different; clothes dumpy and dirty and hair like a hurricane had blown through it. Amazing how much difference one day can make. I remember those days. Starting back to school when I was in elementary school was a huge deal.  Especially school shopping. I think Sears was our happy place or it might have been J C Penny. Mama told me she had a credit card at one of those places. That might be the reason I started to school with so many dresses. That is all that we could wear in those days. It didn't matter to me that I had a dress on though, at recess, I flipped over and over on the playground bars. Not a care in the world. I'm sure that when I got home I was quite the sight to see. I didn't wear all my new dresses the first week. I spread them out over a long period of time. I remember starting to school with some pretty colorful panties too. Each pair was labeled with an embroidery print of the day of the week. I was sure to wear my panties labeled Monday on Monday. And the same throughout the week. I was very organized. I hung my dress and placed my panties next to it so I would know what to wear each day of the week. It didn't take very long though before I was wearing Saturday panties on Tuesday. Organization has never been my forte. I know what you're thinking. If you're going to flip your dress over so everyone can see your panties, make sure you have the right day of the week on. Right? LOL

My husband and I attended a friends funeral today.  Then we got news of another close friend that I taught school with for a very long time that wasn't expected to live. It's really sad.  Like I hear my pastor say so often, we have no promise of tomorrow. Thought about my flowers in my garden. Beautiful at the first of summer but by the end they look tired and wilted. Oh, how quickly they fade.  Here today gone tomorrow. Just like us. So thankful that both my friends know Jesus. More importantly... that He knows them. In that way, it's not so sad anymore.

On my front porch again, my very favorite place to be when I am at home. I'm thinking about how proud I am of my hubby. It's funny how I  just realized that it wasn't such a big deal for a butterfly to light on my slippers the other day, my hubby just had one light on his hand and he carried it all the way to his face...now that's a true butterfly whisperer...love that man. I'm so proud of  him.  He works hard. He's a faithful friend. Tries hard to please me. Which isn't easy (at times.) Above all else though, he love's the Lord with all his heart. Now, that's a good man. Thank you God for giving him to me.

Last thoughts as summer draws to an end; (1)Take time to enjoy the butterflies and flowers on your porch (2) Love the ones that God has given you (3) And say yes to Jesus today... for we have no promise of tomorrow ❤

sammie jean

I am a flower quickly fading
here today gone tomorrow
a wave tossed in the ocean
a vapor in the wind
still you hear me when I'm calling
Lord, you catch me when I'm falling
and you've told me who I am
I'm yours

Casting Crowns

 It might have taken sixty years. And God rerouting my life a few times. But, no matter how many times it has taken. He has been faithful. Faithful to knock the dust off my shoes and nudge me in the right direction. All while changing my heart and putting new desires in me.  I believe, ones that please Him. One of those being to share the love of Jesus with people I don't even know. A group of us went from our church in Florida to Mt. Storm, West Virginia. I first met Pastor Tom, pastor of the church there, at our church around a year ago. You couldn't help but love him. A big heart for the Lord. He showed up at our church in a little"doodle-bug." That is what I call it. A Volkswagen Beetle straight out of the sixties. He drove almost 1,000 miles to visit us on it.  Some of the mission team members had already met him. They did bible school and a building project for him last summer. So, when our church put out the word that they were going back to Mt. Storm to help them again this summer, my husband and I felt the call to go too. We had already felt the pull to help him on his visit to our church. This would be our very first mission trip. My mission field for over 30 years has been to teach children. But, for many years now my desire has been to go beyond my comfort zone. That is just what I did. Let me insert here because it is extremely notable to me that God brought a man in my life that has similar desires. His broken roads and my broken roads intersected at just the right point in time for a time as this. Speaking of roads! West Virginia is beautiful with its picturesque mountains and green valleys. The countryside laden with wooden barns, silos, and luscious gardens, planted neatly in rows. Deer grazing in the pastures. The roads so curvy that you meet yourself coming around them. Not going to lie, my head became as dizzy as a goldfish swimming in a fish bowl. A special shout-out to my husband and my pastor who did everything in their power to keep that from happening. Although the scenery was picture perfect it didn't take us long to realize that like everywhere else in the world, sin was abounding much. Pastor Tom's little church, up the mountain has been there for several years but just can't seem to grow. My heart goes out to them. All this was definitely new to me. I was mostly "all eyes and ears." There couldn't have been a better group to train my husband and I then the group that went on the trip. The love of Jesus oozes from them. They have such a servants heart.  Talking to people about Jesus is just their second nature. Three of us spent the morning doing bible school with the kids. Our church bus picked up the kids. Everyone pitched in to help out in the afternoons at the park doing sports camp. I learned pretty quickly though about missions. Expect the unexpected. You plan one thing but there is a real big possibility that Holy Spirit has a different plan. He did. The children that we did bible school with and the pastor's family, was very encouraged by our visit. I believe that. But, the greatest thing of all was four adults came to know Jesus as their Savior. My pastor invested all the time that he needed on a high school kid playing basketball. Pastor Tom did the same for a couple fixing to get married and the girls father. It really was a beautiful thing. It's hard to say which part of this trip was my favorite. It might have been the friendship between members of the mission team. Talking and laughing and getting to know each other. Sharing good food together. I believe Jesus is very pleased with close relationships formed around the dinner table. We ended each evening with singing. Adults and children gathered close around my pastor leading on his guitar. The first night, I sat and watched a man with a full beard. It looked like it hadn't been cut in over 10 years. His wife pregnant with their ninth child. Later realizing this couple was faithful members of Pastor Tom's church. He sang to the top of his lungs. It was louder than anyone else. And he was definitely off  key. It touched me in a most unexpected way. Tears filled my eyes. It came to my mind. This was it! This is what my soul had longed for. To be among people I do not even know, people that are culturally different from me in every since of the word, but I loved them anyway. It was heavenly. I knew that this was what I wanted to do with the rest of my life. There is nothing else in the world like it. It is exactly what I envision the scene in Revelation as being like. Every tribe and tongue from every nation singing around the great white throne. It's going to be huge. I definitely do not want to miss it!

I don't want you to either 💕

sammie jean

Dear Grandson

Happy Birthday!

 Eighteen years ago I met you for the very first time. The prettiest baby boy. The first thing I saw as you were birthed from your mother’s womb was one huge dimple, on your left cheek. Soft, curly, black hair. Beautiful, brown skin. My first grandson. It was love at first sight.

 I had had nine months to get use to the idea of having a grandchild. To be honest with you, it wasn’t that easy at first. I’m not professing to have handled it with much grace. Your mama was 22 and unmarried. I can still hear her now, "Mama, I'm pregnant." It rang in my ears and burdened my heart for a very long time.  She had been living with your daddy. I didn’t really know him well, but because he had other children that were living with their grandmother, I was concerned about what kind of daddy he was going to be, if one at all. He was African American. I got off the phone with her. And I cried for months. I even pleaded with God. You have to understand how it was for me, being raised in the south in the 60’s. Black and white people were just beginning to go to school together, drink from the same water fountain and eat in the same restaurant. It was just the culture of our time. Races didn’t mix much. Even though, our housekeeper/baby sitter was a black woman that kept me when I was young and I had a lot of black friends in high school, we didn’t go home with each other to spend the night. I didn’t know of any bi-racial couples. It was foreign to me. I don’t think I had ever seen a mixed child before. Like I said, I had nine months to let it all sink in. After I saw you for the first time, all my fears melted on the floor like a pile of white snow in a warm room.  I was totally smitten.

You were a fun-loving, happy child. Chunky cheeks and legs. Not overweight. But just the right amount of pudginess to make you want to get a pinch or two. You did love to eat. I can’t think of anything that you didn’t like. You loved to talk. The only problem was, we couldn’t understand you. You created a language all your own for the imaginative world you lived in. You were very busy. It was really hard to rein you in. Maybe we didn’t try very hard. You loved the outdoors, so that is where you spent a lot of your time, catching  bugs...anything that had had six legs; maybe a spider or lizard too. I can hear you now, "Ammie, can I have a jar?" You faithfully asked every time you set foot in my house. I opened the cabinet to look through my collection of jars and plastic butter tubs that I had saved just for you, punched a whole in the top and you were off. Off on another critter hunt. No bug was safe when you were around. You have always loved to fish. I guess the very first place that you ever fished was in the pond at your nana and papa’s house. The day you caught your first catfish, hooked you for life. Do you remember picking up colorful fall leaves on our walks? Acorns too. Picnics. Swimming. You were a friendly little boy. I remember telling you and your brother at a lake one time. "Now, you don't have to talk to everyone you see in the water. You can just swim and have fun.” The next thing I knew you would be all up in someone's conversation. It was useless for me to ever say anything. This great big world has always been your playground.

 It brought me great enjoyment to be in the same school with you. Since I was teaching there, I was able to be there on your first day of Kindergarten and your last day of 5th grade. And Summer school. You got at least 6 years of summer school because I was teaching it. It wasn’t that bad. We had fun visiting the library and playing with friends. School was always a little difficult for you. You’re definitely kin to your Ammie. If we aren't using our hands or our imagination, then forget it! Most things just don't keep our attention. Organization is not our forte either.  I remember going to your kindergarten class and looking in your cubby on occasion. Papers were smashed in there deep and wide. Never could keep up with anything. "Where's your folder?" "Where's your library book,” I asked more times than I care to remember. They were no where to be found.  Organization wasn’t your thing but singing and dancing was. I'm sure you were popular in kindergarten because of your dance moves. I loved watching you dance. You were not the least bit bashful. Ready to share your talent with anyone that would watch. Science has always been your love. So glad that you had a great science teacher. You really enjoyed his class. You enjoyed him too. He liked you.  You found your talent in sports; especially baseball. You were a really good pitcher. I’ll never forget the night I saw you hit your first home run. It was pretty amazing. It brought back a lot of memories. Watching you pitch and all.  It was just the natural thing to do, to stay at the baseball fields. I had done it for over 15 years with your uncle.  I’m so sorry that you felt like you couldn’t stay in school and that for some reason you felt like you weren’t getting the support you needed to finish.  I haven’t walked in your shoes, so I don’t understand how you feel. But, I do know that you can do whatever you set your mind to do, so don’t ever give up on finishing school. It is never too late. You have a lot of unique talents. Just like when you were a small child, you have to find your place again.

I was blessed to get to take you to church when you were younger. You have always had a kind and tender heart toward the things of the Lord. I love how you love Jesus. I’m so glad that God brought Pawpaw into our lives. I know that he was tough at times. But, I don’t think there was ever a time that he didn’t hug you and tell you he loved you after he disciplined you. God knew that we needed him in our lives. Tough love had never been in mine or your mama’s vocabulary. I’m pretty sure he had a little wisdom that we both needed. We have had a lot of fun too. The fire pit in the back yard became your stage. You, your brother and sister entertained us. He was always amazed at your talents of improvisation; story telling, dancing, and singing. The back porch became our sanctuary.  Visits from the red birds caught our watchful eye and a picture or two. Polar Express and hot chocolate became our yearly tradition. Watching Super Man with “the boys” was a highlight for him. You have brought a lot of joy to our lives.

I’m so sorry about all the tough things that you, your brother, and little sister have had to go through. They are not easily understood. But one thing I know without a doubt is God never allows things to happen that are outside of his plan for our lives. He uses each one for our good. I remember one night in particular that we made a circle and held hands and prayed. He stored those precious tears in bottles that night. And every night since then. Your mama has had a really hard time raising three children alone. It has been harder for her than I can imagine. I’m sorry that you have a daddy that hasn’t been there for you. And a grandfather too. All we can do is pray. Pray that they find Jesus. Pray that one day they come to you and tell you how much they love you. You were not named Malachi by accident. Malachi 4: 6 says He will turn the hearts of the fathers to their children, and the hearts of their children to their fathers. This can be our prayer.

You were never an accident. You are not inferior to anyone. You are loved by an awesome Heavenly Father. Always remember…Jesus is the only one that has the answer, always ask Him.

I saw a Facebook post the other day that said, in my own words, God gave me a special needs child because my heart needed a lot of work done on it. I really understand that. God gave me a "special situation" because my heart needed work done on it. I thank God for you. More than you will ever know.

My kitchen is always open for you. Who knows…I might can even find a jar or two 💝

Happy Birthday!

love you forever,
 ammie

i love music...

Music does something to me. It takes me to a place that nothing else can. I have been passionate about it for as long as I can remember. I wish that I could sing. I mean really sing. I must have thought I could as a child. I sang Bobby Gentry songs in the auditorium at school. Can you believe I sang Harper Valley PTA? None other than at a PTA meeting. Who in the world let me do that?  I sang hymns at church. One of my very favorites goes like this, "As I come to the garden alone, with dew still on the roses, he walks with me and He talks with me and tells me I am his own." Beautiful lyrics. I wish that I could play an instrument too. I took piano lessons for way more years than I want to admit. And the money my parent's probably spent on me to no avail. I still can't play. My piano teacher use to tell me, "If you practiced playing the piano as much as you rode your bike you would probably be good at it." Well obviously, I valued my outdoor play time at a much higher value than my piano time. I can't think of anything more heavenly than to sing and play and instrument.  I remember our first stereo. It came with albums of songs from the sixties. I thought that I had died and gone to heaven, lying in the middle of our hard wood floor in the den with no rug on it, listening to those songs over and over. Dean Martin and Moon River was timeless. I couldn't have been much older than 10 but it was music to my ears. You Ain't Nothing But a Hound Dog too. I know why I loved him though. My mama and sister were obsessed with Elvis Presley. I can still hear the amazing voice of Roy Orbison singing Pretty Woman on the jukebox at the little hamburger and french fry teenage hang-out my mama and daddy owned across from the school. After the ball games it was flooded with kids that were hungry for food and a good time. I only wanted to go home and get in my bed. I still love that song though. There isn't one time that I can think of that music hasn't played an important part of what was going on in my life.  I loved gospel music when I was younger. I use to attend a local all night gospel sing. I went with my sister and her friends. We put our lawn chairs out early to mark our spot. We came later with picnic baskets full of food. I can hear it now..."if it wasn't for the lighthouse where would this ship be." That was a defining song for me. Sunday mornings I sang out of a hymn book and Sunday night I sang gospel music at another church nearby. My sister sang in a gospel group with three of her friends. Their lives and music had a huge impact on me.  I remember when I attended a church in the eighties with my small daughter. We fell in love with the music. There was something so different about it. I had only sang hymns and gospel style music. Some of the songs were very upbeat, clap your hands, songs of praise, but the ones I fell in love with were the slower songs. The words were right out of the bible. The lyrics touched me right where I was. I remember singing, "as the deer panteth for the water, so my soul longeth after thee." My heart just melted on the floor. It was there that I actually learned about worship. Every Sunday I felt like I joined with the angels to sing in a heavenly choir. I was totally smitten. Forever, in love with Jesus. My little daughter and I sat on the steps of our double-wide mobile home day after day and sang and sang. They forever left a mark on us. Contemporary Christian music became my very favorite, listening in my car, on my walks, at the beach, everywhere I went. Thank you Lord for Pandora. And what in the world would we watch on TV if it weren't for the The Voice and American Idol? All the different genres of music can be heard. In the mountains of North Carolina, I have been introduced to Blue Grass music. The violin is the instrument of the day. I just get lost in that sad, sultry sound. This week in Bible School our theme was Revelation 7:9, after this I beheld and lo a great multitude, which no man could number, of all nations, and kindred's, and people, and tongues stood before the throne and before the Lamb, clothed with white robes and psalms in their hands. (and singing to the top of their lungs)  What a choir that will be. Can't wait!!! I just know in Revelation when Jesus says "whoever has ears let him hear" it's so that we can hear all the beautiful music 😃

music is the melody of the heart so sing it

sammie jean

help my plans die...

I'm a planner. You would never know it. I don't appear very organized. I don't often share my plans. I just make them. Plans for myself. Plans for my husband. Plans for my children. Grandchildren. Some times they actually happen. You know one of the neatest things about the "golden years" as they call them, is many things just don't matter as much any more. I think God got it backwards. We should have this wonderful confidence when we're younger, when we have a body full of vim and vigor to go along with it. We could change the world! But, as we know, wisdom doesn't come over night. I realize now what Solomon was talking about. Things in this life are not near as important as we think they are.

Every since I told Jesus that I wanted to step out of the boat I was tired of the same old thing day in and day out. He's been there. I've stopped planning...as much. I've finally realized I wasn't doing anything much, I was just planning. Now I try to actually "take a step." It seems to get a little easier each time. I remember selling our house. Moving to a different town where we only knew a few family members. Starting a new church where we only knew our grandson. And...moving into a camper. All of it an exciting-apprehensive kinda feeling. It reminds me of the creak waters that I grew up swimming in. Couldn't wait to climb the rope hanging from the large oak tree or jump in with inner-tube in hand. Even though I knew it was freezing cold. When I finally jumped in...it literally took my breath away. It was always worth it!

 I remember how hard it was for me to take the first grade position at the local school in January this year. Very insecure to say the least. First of all I hadn't taught in over 3 years and I hadn't taught first grade for over 20. Not to even mention that I only knew 3 people at the school.  Was it hard? I don't have enough time or enough words to tell you how hard it was. I did remember for the first eight weeks asking God, "Have I done the right thing?" I kept leaning on Him. I mean literally. It was like I felt  Him holding my body up every single day as I limped into the classroom every morning and dragged myself home every afternoon. I prayed as I drove down our little dirt driveway, "Lord, help me. I can't do this without you."

         It was a most rewarding experience.

This week I'm teaching bible school. Doesn't sound like a big deal does it? But, for me it is. This time I'm actually teaching the bible lesson. Yes, I'm a teacher but something about teaching the bible, I feel all insecure about. I figured it's about time though. If I want to travel to other parts of the world to tell them about God's love, I better start in my own little hometown. So last night we talked about how God so loves His creation that He puts roadblocks in our lives for us to stop and examine our ways. He is definitely a God of second chances. I am enthralled with the story about the Tower of Babel. He told them not to build it. So much like human nature, they did it anyway. So, He confused their languages so that they couldn't continue on in their path of disobedience.

         I still feel so inadequate...but I am learning to trust Him more and more.

 Our church and everyone around this area has been praying for a little baby that was born to a precious family a few months back.  His brain not functioning properly. His little body not able to perform the functions that we just take for granted. The family had him, to love on him for only a short two months before he went home to be with Jesus. Of course, this was not their plans. I watched and listened to this devoted family embrace God's plans rather than their own. His ways are not our ways is not just a favorite little bible verse that rolls off our tongue with ease from memory to them... it is their reality.

         Lord, please help me let my plans die so that I can truly have yours.

something unexpectedly, beautiful always happens ♥

sammie jean

scars....

Looking down, there it was. I hadn't seen it in a very long time. Even though I have had it around 50 years. Looking at it today, I remembered.  I was young. Carefree. Blonde ponytail, blowing in the wind, as I sped down the driveway on my bicycle. Unique bike to say the least. Only one half of a handle bar. The other half had been broken off somehow, leaving a rusty, jagged piece on the other side. It didn't stop me. I rode it anyway. Mama probably told me not to. I don't remember. It wasn't that I didn't listen. I just wanted to do what I wanted to do. I was hard-headed. Okay. I didn't listen!!!! I was a Tom boy, outside was my playground. Being the youngest of two girls, I played alone often. I remember mama telling me one time that a teacher told her I was accident-prone. Whatever that means. I guess I was. I had accident's at school and at home all the time. I fell out of my climbing tree and sprang my arm one time. I fell on our rusty can, dog dish and cut my leg open. One time my family was frying fish at a pond and my poppy was driving all the kids out to the pond where we were going to eat. We were all in the back end of the truck. That's what country kids did in the 60's. He stopped quickly and a huge glass bottle full of water turned over and broke. He quickly jumped out of the cab and hurried to the back where we were. "Are ya'll okay?" he asked. I heard everyone say, "yes." Everyone but guess who? I looked down at my ankle, gashed wide open, blood everywhere. It's true, it seemed like I was always getting hurt. Those injuries were nothing compared to this one though. It was a hot, summer day. I had shorts on and was barefooted, which was how I usually played.  I was riding my bicycle the one with the rusty handle bars. I rode down the driveway onto the highway, which was directly in front of our house. It was a paved road with a lot of rocks. The edge of the pavement came up about an inch and a half from the side of the road. Riding along, not a care in the world, I rode too close to the edge of the road and ran off of it. I tried to correct my error but it was futile. The deep incline and loose rocks made it impossible to get back on the highway. I lost control and my bicycle turned over, gouging my right ankle. It wasn't too far from the ankle mishap I had in the back of my poppy's truck. It must have been quite painful though because my body took over and went into a sorta comatose state because I don't really remember much from that point. I don't even remember who came and got me off the road. I know it must have scared my mama to death. She told me later that daddy sent his assistant football coach to go with her to the doctor. Thank you Lord for good friends because nothing stood between my daddy and his football team. It bled a lot because I remember seeing towels and towels full of blood. They took me to the nearest town and nearest doctors office. Those were back in the days when you could just go directly to his office. Until this day, I still remember the doctor saying, "You missed a main artery." "If you had of cut it, you could have easily bled to death right there in the road." Thank God, Jesus had other plans for me that day. Around fifty stitches later my leg was all sewn up. Stitches on the inside and stitches on the outside. It was a mess. Painful experience. It took me quite a while to get over it. Funny how I haven't thought about it in a very long time until today.

You know, all pain is like that. Whether it's on the inside or the outside. It hurts. My heart or my leg. It's painful. There is really only one way to describe it. At times, it hurts like hell. It just does. It feels like you are never going to get over it.  Never going to see the other side. I remember when I went through divorce. I remember raising my grand kids. Dreams that didn't come true. Then one day, you look at what was once a throbbing wound and you see a scar. It will be forever  present but without the agonizing pain. Only Jesus can do that.  I didn't really know when it happened, it just did. I know that it didn't happen over night. In fact, it felt like it took a very long time. But, when the time had come, I realized, that the pain was barely there any more...sometimes even completely gone.

I loved being a free-spirited child.  Even if it did mean getting hurt at times. As a young mother that little girl continued to pop out. Even as a grown woman, I still see her occasionally. Pushing those boundaries at times. Although, finally, realizing it isn't worth it most of the time. Its taken many years to see it, but pain isn't a bad thing. It's during those times that I see the faithfulness of God to me right where I am. Every time. Drawing me to Him. Not giving up on me. Not keeping count of how many times it takes me. Just simply, loving me. Now, that is a relationship I wouldn't trade for the world.

Thank you Father, that when I look at my scars I see you,

sammie jean

...and then on the third day

 I have so many things that I am waiting on. There are those little things like a new pedicure and a shopping trip. And May to come so that I can stop teaching for a while. A trip up the east coast for an anniversary trip and a mission trip somewhere...maybe Africa.  A house. Definitely a house. Living in this camper has served a purpose. I've learned a lot about myself and my husband. But, I'm excited about the possibility of building a house. I can't help but think about the times, in my past, that I was waiting on God. Thinking back, after my divorce, I waited on Him a lot. Every minute of the day. Direction for my kids. Direction for my grand kids. For His peace and presence in my life. I waited. I'm still waiting on Him for so many of the same things. One big difference now is, I'm waiting on Him with a loving husband, not just by myself anymore. However, I am still waiting.

 This morning, the day before Easter, I started thinking about "on the third day." Thinking about tomorrow...Resurrection Day!  There Jesus lay. Lifeless in the tomb where he had been so mercilessly, brutally killed the day before. As He lay in the tomb, the world waited. All those that loved him so. Waited. All those that walked with Him. Waited. They believed in Him. They knew that what He had said, what He had promised was true. But, there was no physical evidence that anything was going to happen. They just believed. They BELIEVED!!!! The women came to the tomb with their spices like they did everyday. This time was different. He was not there. Two men appeared in clothes that were different than clothes that they wore and said, "Why do you look for the living among the dead?" "He is not here; he has risen."  He has risen! He is alive. Was it exactly like they thought it would be? Did it happen like they had planned? No, it didn't. Did it happen when they thought it would happen? No, it did not. But, on the third day...In the Fathers perfect timing...it happened like He had planned. Like he had planned since the foundation of the world.

...on the third day....

Words are just not adequate. The only thing I can say with a surety is, He is my hope too. I am looking for him to show up...now and forevermore. He is my  hope when I go to bed at night. His mercies are new for me every morning when I rise. He is my hope right now as I sit and write this blog. He is my hope for the future. I believe in Him! I am watching! I am waiting!  On the third day (however many days that is for me) it will happen. His way. His timing. His provisions for my life...He will provide. I BELIEVE!!!!! 

He has never failed me and He never will ❤

Happy Resurrection Day ✞
sammie jean

my first love

I remember the night that I got saved. It wasn't anything that spectacular at the time. I just walked to the altar and kneeled down. I remember the preacher giving the altar call and at the age of 13 at the little Methodist church that we attended, I went down. I didn't know that much about Jesus. I did have a very healthy respect for Him due to my mama. She always took my sister and I to church. I always saw her doing her devotion so I knew it must be important. I prayed every night in my bed, now I lay me down to sleep. Not sure if that was because I was scared of the dark or afraid I would die, either way, I always remembered to do it. It wasn't my first time going to the altar. I remember when I was much younger, I went to a revival with my granny and poppy. I asked granny, "Can I go down there?" Of course, she said, "yes." I didn't really know exactly why I was going but I did believe in God and if the pastor said I needed Jesus, then I believed him. I always believed. Every since I can remember. I don't know if "it took" that night or not. Probably not. But, it was the right thing to do nonetheless. This time was different though. I remember getting out of bed the next morning and it was literally like God had repainted everything around me; there was a fresh coat of blue in the sky, the grass was greener then I had ever seen, and the sun was brighter. I felt like a bud just opening up on a rose bush on the first day of spring. New is the only way I can explain it. It makes me so sad to say that somewhere along the way all those beautiful hues faded. Looking back everything seems to be a blur. Not one thing in particular, just life in general. I just did life and didn't continue to include Him in it. I tried hard to be a good daughter, which was pretty difficult at times with a high school PE teacher mother and father/PE teacher, coach, principal and an older sister that set the standards pretty high. It wasn't their fault. It was just that I wanted to please everyone but always felt that I fell short. Middle school was okay but loved high school. Cheering became my favorite past time...my friends did too. Graduated. Went to college for one year. Married. Had a baby. Finished college. Started teaching. Had another baby. Divorced. And at my lowest point, I realized that somewhere a long the way...I had lost Jesus. And I desperately needed Him. You know where I found Him? Right where I left Him. He never left my side. He had never left my heart. He had always been attentive to me and my needs. I had never lost Him at all. When I finally got over myself long enough to realize that I couldn't do life without Him anymore and I didn't want to either, our relationship flourished. It was just He and I, so to speak, for almost eleven years, before He brought another man into my life. To be quite honest it was kinda hard for me to give up the kind of relationship I felt that we had. But, when He brought my husband into my life I knew without a doubt that he was God's gift to me. And with all the love in my heart, I accepted His gift. I'm so glad that I did. Jesus told the church of Ephesus, I have this against you. You have forsaken your first love. Recently studying this in Revelation really gripped my heart! I can still remember my first love of Jesus, oh so well. I remember what it felt like as a young girl when he saved me. And as a 29 year old woman desperately seeking Him as I fell prostrate on the floor, crying out for Him. I remember how He flooded my soul with His grace and mercy. What an amazing feeling to realize that He had never stopped loving me. Not once. And realizing that I had always loved Him. It was acceptance like I had never known before. I can't help but be reminded of what it felt like when I  found my husband after 10 years of being single. How much I loved him!  And the day that we walked down the aisle to be joined...forever. There is and never will be another relationship that can compare to this... this side of heaven.

 Jesus, may I always remember... always on my lips, forever in my heart...

 sammie jean

You're doing what????

There are a lot of things that I love about my first grade class and some things...well... There is nothing like their precious eyes looking up at me and asking, "Ms. Sammie is this right?" I mean, really. It's like their fragile little lives are in my hands. They are so innocent....most of the time. Then there are times when... it's like this..."How many times have I told you what to do?" I exclaim. And all I get is a blank stare. Or, I am not going to do it. Excuse me! What did you just say? Yes, I heard her correctly. She repeats, "I am not going to do this." I must admit that this is a new one for me. And then there are those times that there are so many adults in my classroom telling me how I can better help this child that I feel like a picture on the wall that lost its hook. Really. How can one little child get so much attention? I guess it's like the expression, "the squeaky wheel gets the grease." You know what I would really like to do? Spank a little bottom. "What in the world have I done?" I asked myself. In fact, I have asked myself that many times over the last few weeks. There I was just two months ago retired; lying in my hammock, soaking up the sun, listening to music... So when I told them that I would take this first grade class in January, I had no idea what I was doing. Not really. I felt somewhat confident of my 30 plus years in the classroom, but being in a new town, a new school, and not knowing a child's parent in my classroom, trumped that. I was a little intimidated to say the least. My confidence went out the window. Thank you, Jesus, for the few friends I have from church that work at the school. They have been my lifesaver. It was all too familiar that first day. I walked into my classroom and there were 32 eyes staring up at me. What am I going to do with them? Deja vu for sure. I remembered it all so well. There I was 29 years old, fresh out of college and planted right in the middle of a classroom full of 6 and 7 year old's. "What have I done?" I confessed. Eyes welling up and lips trembling. No teaching manual prepared me for it. Two months of internship didn't either. It's like having children of your own. You learn as you go. I started college the very next fall after graduating high school in 1975. Getting married the next year. I begged mama and daddy to let me go to school away from home. I yearned to go to Auburn. The only thing that I knew about the school was I went to cheering camp there. That's all I needed. I loved it. But because my daddy believed in supporting the local jr. college, I didn't get to go. I didn't have the GPA or test scores to get into a major university anyway, so it wouldn't have mattered either way. It was just one of those dreams. I really wanted to get away though. I wasn't ready to get married, but figured that I would. Sounds pretty silly now. But, that is how it was. Anyway, ready or not, we got married. I managed to muster up the energy to complete my AA degree after getting married though. School was history after that. Or at least for a little while. I got a job and several years after that was pregnant with our first child. Like a lot of things I have done, it didn't take me long to realize I had made a huge mistake by not completing my degree. Well, second thought, maybe it wasn't a mistake after all, because it gave me time to think about what I wanted to be when I grew up. At the age of 25 it was high time I decided. Elementary education it was. It seemed to be the best fit for me. No matter how hard I tried not to be a teacher because my mama, daddy, and my sister were teachers, I gave in. It was tough going back to school though; attempting to be a mom to a 3 year old, occasionally seeing my husband, working full time, and driving 40 miles (one way) to classes at night, and getting home around 11:00 to start all over again the next morning. This was my schedule three to four days a week. Thank the Lord for the weekends. Time to reboot and then start all over. For some strange reason, I have always chosen the hard way of doing things. I persevered however and less than two years received my degree. I cherish the picture we took that day of my graduation. My husband, me in my camp and gown holding our 5 year old daughter. What a huge accomplishment! As we made Valentine bags this week, a few days before the students brought in their treasures, once again a truck-load of memories came rushing in. I remembered saying the exact same thing way back then. "Now students, eyes on me. Fold your red paper in a hamburger fold," I said. "Now take your pencil and trace a half of a heart like this," I continued, demonstrating the process. Knowing it was very difficult for a 6 year old to see a symmetrical shape of a heart, I continued, "Now raise your hand if you need help." Just as I thought, half the class raised their hands. One thing I have noticed is that kids haven't changed that much. There he sat on the floor focused on his little bag of goodies. "Bobby," (not real name) he hollers all the way across the room at a student on the other side of the room, "Thank you, Sally for my valentine," he continues. "Thank you, Robert." He goes through every valentine in his bag and delivers a personal thank-you for every single one. Precious. Thirty-two years ago each child did the same thing. Isn't it funny how your life turns out? Mine is. The thing that I absolutely was not going to do for a career (not even one time) turns out I'm doing it twice. Don't ever say never. That's for sure. God always knew that I was going to be a teacher. So thankful that He is patient with us like that. Even though he probably shook His head at me and said, "Here she goes again." "That is one stubborn child." I'm still trying to figure it all out though. You would think after all these years I would know all there is to know about kids, teaching, the whole gamut. But, after going back to work after a short lived retirement, that isn't the case at all. I realize I know nothing...well, maybe just a couple of things. And even though I said it over and over, "I will never be a teacher," it was in my blood...destined to be. I wouldn't have traded it for the whole world then. And I still wouldn't. sammie jean

EVER BEEN “PLUMB” WORN OUT? Well I’m there!!!!! Hope to muster up enough energy to blog soon. sammie Jean

2018 in the making

On this, the last day of the year, 2018, we find ourselves, hubby and I, in the Blue Ridge mountains of North Carolina in our cozy little cabin on Red Bird Lane. Rainy and cold. The kind of day that the only thing you want to do is sit in front of a blazing fire, covered with a soft, fuzzy afghan and sip on hot cappuccino while watching your favorite love story. Perfect setting to end this year. This cabin has been a precious gift. One of many this year. It was kinda funny how it all started though. The cabin didn’t become officially ours until the end of 2017. Knowing that the closing had been cancelled, we came anyway on a hope and a prayer that somehow it would work out. I guess we thought being persistent would change things. We can be very stubborn at times. Especially my husband (tee hee.) We stayed in a motel while we were trying to figure things out. We even asked could we rent the cabin for a couple of nights. All to no avail.  I remember us walking around in the yard, looking in the windows, like pitiful, little lost puppies looking for a home. We just couldn’t wait to get inside. I guess patience isn’t our virtue. After several weeks, we went home, very disappointed. The only thing we really accomplished while being here, other than just enjoying the mountains, was to spend a lot of money.  We closed two days after we returned home. It wasn’t until February this year that we were able to return. Finally, we got to sleep in our bed, in our little cabin on the mountain. We wasted no time making it our own. We added a mantel to the fireplace. Pulled out floor
radiators and replaced it with a air pump. Painted furniture, bought eclectic items from local antique stores, hung new curtains. We added our own touch.  We  soaked in the cool mornings and basked in the crisp evenings on the porch as we listened to the running water brook nearby, our dream had
come true. We were back months later, for the summer. Our granddaughter spent three weeks with us. We were like kids again. Horseback riding, white water rafting, jumping into the river and climbing mountains, just anything that we could find that a 12 year old would love to do. Unexpectedly, hurricane Michael gave us a reason to return in October. It was difficult but we managed to put the tragedy behind us for a few days. The exuberant colors of fall all around us made it a little easier. My 87 year old mother came for the first time. Just in time to enjoy the apple season. Her favorite. Daddy’s too. I could see it in her eyes as she reminisced of him. She wished that he could be here. Me too.  Our granddaughter got to make the trip. We only had a week but it was a most special week for
all of us.

We found out during Christmas of 2017 that my son and his wife were going to have a baby. The first
baby in our family in 12 years. A little later we found out that it was going to be a boy. Another grandson for my husband and I. When we were in the mountains in July we knew we would be
returning for his birth. We arrived home in plenty of time. A few days to get reacquainted with ourcamper or we thought. I heard the phone ring around 7:00 the next morning. I got up to answer the phone  to find my son on the other end. “Mama we’re at the hospital, were going to have a baby,” he calmly said. I was anything but calm, “You mean she is in labor?” I yelled. Out of my mind I said, “I have a hair appointment, should I get my hair done?” I didn’t go. Coming to my senses, I realized that this day was far more important than a cut and color. It was a long, hard day for my daughter-in-law and son. They were a great team. Our precious little boy finally arrived late that night. Perfect in every way. Thank you Lord for our special little addition. We have enjoyed all the first.

This year has brought some disappointments too. I’ve watched my older kids and grandkids experience some hurts this year. When they hurt, I do too. We experienced growing pains for sure. Sometimes I wish they were still little and I could sit them on my lap and wrap my arms around them and tell them that everything is going to be alright. I just want them to know that I will never give up
on them. They are and always will be my greatest joy. I will pray for you until the day I die…probably will not stop then either.

In August my husband and I decided to get back into the work force. We didn’t want anything too demanding but something to break up the day a little. Of course, it would be fitting for me to choose substitute teaching since I had over 30 years experience in the field. My hubby, reluctantly came along. We’ve actually enjoyed it.

I love our church and Sunday school class. So glad that we decided to become members. They are the sweetest, kindest, some of the most Godly people that I know. I’ve learned a lot about them as we pray together and play together. A lot of this year has been about community. Learning to live together, laugh together, love together.

I had the neatest thing happen to me. One of my new friends that I met at church told me that she bought her daughter a VIP ticket to see her favorite Christian artist for Christmas. She and her husband planned on taking her for her Christmas present. “What a wonderful Christmas gift,” I told her. I remember seeing that this artist that I loved was close by and I really wanted to go too. She was one of my favorites. I marked my calendar reluctantly, knowing that I wouldn’t be able to attend. Days turned into months and I eventually stopped thinking about going. Well a long story short…my friends husband got sick days prior to the trip and was unable to go and she asked me would I like to go. WOULD I LIKE TO GO???? I don’t think she really had any idea just how much I really wanted to go.  She is one of the most generous people that I know. Not because she asked me to go on this trip but because she is always doing kind things for others. On our way the next morning, I happened to look down at my phone and there it was plain as day on my calendar, notification of the concert that I had saved months earlier. I had to hold the floodgates back. Don’t ever tell me that God doesn’t give us the desires of our heart. I know He does. Days afterwards, during my morning devotion, I was thinking about the trip and how it still warmed my heart so. I thought, how could I ever repay her for this generosity? I heard Him say, “You can’t.” “Just receive it.” I immediately understood. You gave me the greatest gift ever. I didn’t deserve it. And there was nothing I could do to ever pay for it. Just receive. Thank you Jesus. I do.

My husband knows how much I love a fire in the fireplace. It is “almost” my favorite thing about our cabin. If it is cool enough when we are here, he tires hard to have a fire every night. Yesterday we only had a couple of pieces of wood left. I figured that would be our last fire for this week. As I sat here typing this blog I heard the rumbling of an old pick-up truck as it worked hard to climb the mountain. I looked out the window and there was our neighbor from below bringing us a truck load of wood. Tears filled my eyes as I thought about my husband and how he will do anything within his power for me. Love you baby!  Funny thing happened on one of our early morning walks this week. My hubby and I, came up with two interesting names for each other. These names describe our fussing technique.  It’s funny how we always use animals or bugs. He told me that I was a like an ant that sneaks up on you and bites you, implying that I don’t just come out with it but I use a sneak tactic to attack. I told him he was like a cricket. That annoying sound that just want stop but goes on and on. We both laughed. I hope we laugh even more. Thank you God for him! No matter what mood we’re in…he’s  my soulmate.

 I learned a lot about myself this year. I still want things to work out the way that I want them to work out, (what girl doesn’t?) but, I think I might be a just a little better about trusting God and His timing. He still isn’t early but He is right on time….every time! It’s funny how I want everyone else to be on time (including God) but, I’m a procrastinator. However, I will say that I am starting to get a little tired of my procrastination.  This year has been a lot about change. The way I think about things and the way I do things have been challenged. I continue to be stretched. I can hear God and His great sense of humor say, “You asked for it didn’t you?”  One of my favorite analogies for life has always been the butterfly. Talking about change! There is nothing as hopeless looking as a caterpillar. He just sits around eating all day…but you know how he turns out.  So, this year I guess you would say instead of just talking about how beautiful the butterfly is, I have really tried to learn to fly. It’s hard. Very hard. I know that Jesus has been with me...every  flap of my wings.

 As we toasted with our mountain friends on  New Years Eve, with our champagne glasses slightly full of bubbly,  (that no one really liked), we were once again reminded of the gift of friendship.  Praying friends. Sitting in our cabin in front of  warm, cozy fire in the fireplace, with thankfulness in our hearts,  when we got back home seemed to be a very fitting way to end this year.

Thank you Father for the loving people in my life;  a loving husband, children and grandchildren, a beautiful sister and brother-in-law, a precious mother, the constant love of family, a wonderful church family, friends that listen and pray. Thank you for the extra measure of faith, hope and love that I received this year…you are a good, good Father.

Sammie  jean