and it rained...

 We finally arrived at our mountain home.  I open the creaking screen door. It seems to always say "welcome back." After a quick glance around the room to make sure everything is in place, I walk straight to the front porch. I look over our acre. Tall oak trees that reach far into the heavens. Every single leaf has fallen to its resting place on the forest floor. Not one single leaf is left. I love the winter. Everything is in black and white. Something mysteriously beautiful about it. It's raining. I stare at the water droplets on the bare branches. They look like millions of white pearls strung together, glistening as small rays of sun smile on them. Even though it is dreary and cold, we are cozy inside. The rain is a blessing.  My husband can't get out and rake leaves. One thing for sure, the leaves will be waiting on him.Thinking about raking leaves makes me think of when I was younger. My daddy would make my sister and I rake leaves. If she were telling this story, she would say, "I hated when daddy made us rake leaves. I did all the raking, while my sister played." I can hear her now.  I am not going to deny it. She would be telling the truth. I got away with way too much! When it was time to work, I conveniently found something else to do. When it was time to wash dishes, my sister would say,"Where is Sammie Jean?" My mother would interject. "She had to go to the bathroom." They would laugh. The way I saw it was, just the joy of being the baby, I guess. I can grant you my sister didn't see it that way though.

 As I sit in my cozy chair, our first night in our cabin, all bundled up watching tv the lights start to flicker. The first time we saw the flicker, my husband uttered, "I need to change the bulb in this light." Then, it happened again. You know the cliche, the third time is a charm. It was. The lights went out. I quickly jumped up to light candles. I went over to get the kerosene lamp from the wall. The wick had fallen down into the kerosene. Too late to fix this. What does a man do when the lights go out? He goes and gets his trusty flashlight. The second thing he did though, was just what I had thought about for months in Florida. He built a fire in the fireplace. Being the helpless romantic that I am, I thought... it doesn't get any better than this. Lights out, fire in the fireplace.... I know it doesn’t sound very romantic but for the next two hours he snuggled in his chair and I snuggled in mine.  I could hear the wind as it blew through the trees. It seemed to say, "rrrreeeessssttttt." Those were welcoming words to me. Although my husband wasn't quite as eager to do that. He conceded. Almost all of the first week it rained and the second week temperatures went down into the teens. It was just too cold to get out, so we stayed inside. We read. We read about Jeremiah and his daunting task to once again try and restore Israel back to God. I thought about how familiar it sounded. Even though we live in the most blessed country in the world, sin has become very common-place.  Mothers kill their unborn babies, simply because they are an inconvenience to them. It is a "feel good" culture, basically. You do what, "feels good." Never submitting to anyone else. And, even though Christian's still go to church on Sunday morning, they enter in and look to see if there is a monitor in the foyer to protect them. The bible verse in Luke comes to mind, to whom much is given, much will be required. Oh, God, have mercy on us. We have been so blessed but yet we have turned our backs on you.

 We watched movies. A lot of movies. We watched the Hunger Games. All four. We watched love stories like Hope Floats and Under the Tuscan Sun. I just love it that my husband will watch mushy love movies with me. We watched HGTV too. We're pretty sure that we have it all down now; how to build a house and how to decorate it. We'll see. I made Chicken Fajita Soup with fried tortilla's on top. It was so good that we ate it for two solid days. One morning, I was up real early. I drank coffee and ate peanut butter toast, read my devotion and prayed. Just at daylight, I looked out the window and a couple of things caught my attention as they fell to the ground. At first I thought it looked like a leaf, but then remembered that there were no leaves on the trees. I got up, walked out on the porch and to my astonishment it was snow flurries. The little girl came out in me and I flew out into the yard. Robe, slippers and all and danced around with my face held high toward the heavens. "I will wash your sins as white as snow," it seemed I heard.  It was my very own little miracle. It didn't last long. But, I felt like He had done it just for me. 

We had a fire in the fireplace every night. One day, all day and all night. I turned my chair to get as close as I possibly could by the fireplace to feel its warmth. It seemed to warm my very soul. Glancing, occasionally, at Greg, just two and half feet away.  Making eye contact, we smiled and he made those quick "kissy" motions with his lips. I made them back. Then he would always say, "I can't move my lips as fast as you do." We laughed. This might be close to perfect, I thought. I don't think that when the Carpenters sang, "rainy days and Mondays always get me down,” they had ever stayed in their pj's all day long, snuggled in a warm, cozy chair in front of a fire in the fireplace, watching it rain, with the one you love. There is absolutely nothing depressing about that. 💗

sammie jean

Append 08/19/24 

The sweetest memories. I am so thankful that I wrote them down. Ever more sweeter now.

This was written 23 days before my precious husband passed from this life into eternity with Jesus.

Give me "2020" vision...

On my walk this morning I started thinking about the ways that God has answered my prayers. I realized that not very many had been answered in the way that I thought He should answer them. Or in the time frame that I thought He should, for that matter. But, I can say with all confidence in Him that I have grown to have, He has always answered them. He has been faithful. Always. It's weird how I try to put Him on my level sometime. It is Yehweh, the creator of the universe that I am talking about. The God that made the heavens and earth; every planet, constellation, stars and moons in our solar system. Makes day and night. Changes every season. Created every plant on earth. And every animal. Even takes care of the sparrows. He created me and you. And knows the number of every hair on our heads. The God that sacrificed His only beloved son and raised Him for the dead for me and you. The highest and most creative entity that I could ever imagine. And I'm questioning if He thinks the way that I think He should.  I'm quickly reminded that His ways are not my ways. His thoughts not mine. So, if I'm trying to put Him in a box, I can just take him out.

What got me started thinking about this was, I was reading an article about someone this morning. A person that professes belief in Jesus. This person had been selected to represent a person in high places in a certain position. The first thought that came to my mind was, "is that person qualified?" It's odd that I would question that person because I'm far from being who Jesus wants me to be. The more I walked the more He and I talked. By the end of my walk, it became pretty clear in my mind that the revival that we are going to have in this country will not look like I think it will look. And the people that He uses may not resemble my walk with the Lord. However, we will all have one thing in common; our love for Him and our love for one another.  Lord please forgive me of my stereotypical behavior.

I began to think about Jesus' life here on earth. There was nothing about his life that was like what the "godly people" of that day thought it should be. He didn't come into this world in the way that they expected. Not how you would expect a king to be born. And because of that many didn't believe that He was the Messiah. And still don't for that matter. All because He did not come in the way that their human minds perceived that He would.  He didn't arrive with pomp and circumstance, but rather a very humble one. His earthly mom and dad just ordinary people. Nothing special about them other than they were willing to be used by God. He was born in a borrowed stable and lay in a feeding trough full of hay. Yet to all that believed then and today, He is our Savior. Even during Jesus' ministry, he proved time and time again that His ways were unlike the ways of the world. The need for him to go to a town that was not the customary place for people of his nationality to go. There was deep rooted prejudice between the Jews and the Samaritans. But, rather than follow custom, He had an appointment with a woman at the well. Although she was not of reputable character, He pursued her. He broke all the man-made rules of the time to bring her into His kingdom.

 He walked right into the middle of my messes and met me where I was. I am forever grateful. How could I ever judge someone else? If they profess the one and only way, Jesus Christ, then the way God uses them might not look like how He uses me. If Jesus did not follow man-made rules concerning stereotypes why should I? If he showed us time and time again that the people who appeared to be the most "godly" were the farthest from it. Why would I think that people of my time that preach the loudest and fit the part that religion screams "look like this" are the most like Him. Lord, please forgive me that I stereo type people into certain categories. The ones that go to this church. The ones that don't go to church.  The ones that have no place to sleep at night.The ones that live in a five bedroom house. The ones that wear this on their heads. The ones that don't. The ones that don't pray out loud and the ones that pray the loudest. Their ministry might not look like mine, but there will be evidence of you in their lives.

 Lord, please help me not question your move because it isn't the way that I think it should look. Help me not to judge others and the way that they worship just because it isn't the way that I do. Give me a desire to pray about it more than I talk about it. You are the only one that can truly change us and the world we live in. You know what our very heart beat sounds like. I"m confident that you know what you're doing.

 Thanks for reminding me....that the last will be first.

sammie jean❤

But many who are first will be last, and the last will be first.
Matthew 19:30

good-bye 2019

I sat down this morning to eat my very last Christmas sugar cookie with a cup of coffee. I'm a sentimental person so even though I was glad to eat the last one, it was a little depressing to think that I would not have another one until next Christmas. I took my last walk of the year.  Crisp, cool morning, blue sky. Not a cloud anywhere. After I finished walking, I came in our camper to sit down and ponder a little. My usual thing to do on the last day of the year. Quietness all around me except for the welcoming sound of power tools that I hear outside. My hubby busy building our little house. Can't wait to call it home. He has done most the work all by himself, except for a little help from family and friends. He is a hard worker. I tell him all the time to slow down. I thank God for him. I thank God for us. He has given us dreams that we can share and work on together. I'm extremely thankful for that. Its been 3 years now that we have lived in this camper. By the time we complete the house it will be close to 4. When I prayed for change back in 2015, I didn't really know what I was asking for. But, then do we ever really? The "winds of change" definitely blew into our lives. We've just held onto our caps and enjoyed the ride. I don't think I would have changed a thing though. Well, maybe, a little more hot water for a longer shower would have been nice. We are not the couple that we were when we moved here. Change has been good. We don't take life quite as serious as we did. We laugh at ourselves more. We go with the flow a little better. We enjoy each other and God's creation more.  I think that we have sifted through a lot of  life's stuff  and realized what is really important. It definitely isn't things. It's relationships that are the most precious to us.

Can't wait to open up that squeaky screen door at our cabin in the mountains. The last time we were there was in October. Our stay was slightly interrupted by the phone call that I got on our walk that morning. We have no cell service in our cabin or around our mountain except for one spot. On this particular fall morning as we walked across that spot my phone rang. It was the first grade teacher that I knew that I would hear from. I was planning on subbing in her class during her maternity leave, just not quite that soon. "Ms. Sammie," she timidly spoke. "When can you start teaching for me?" she continued. She had another week before her due date, so we were hoping to have a little more time.  However, her doctor felt it was necessary to induce labor. She told me that they decided to get another substitute for a couple of days in order to give us a little more time to get home and get ready. That was extremely thoughtful. So the phone call was no surprise really. We knew when we left that this was a possibility. It was all up to the Lord just when it would occur. It's really ironic though. The whole thing. I taught in a first grade classroom from January until May this year after the teacher decided to go to nursing school. Since it had been twenty-five years give or take a few years since I had been in a first grade classroom, I was just a little rusty. A little rusty?  Who am I kidding. I was definitely unpolished. My memory had escaped me on just how difficult it could be to teach six year old children. I was way out of my comfort zone too. A new town. A new school. New teachers. I had been teaching in third grade when I retired four years ago. I had forgotten that there was a possibility that a six year old might not do what you told them to do. And I sure forgot that their attention span was much shorter than one Scooby Doo Show. What in the world was I thinking? I survived. I guess I should say, we all survived. I didn't do too much damage because when I entered the school the last week of October to take the six-week maternity leave for her, the children that I taught in first grade that are now in second grade, hugged me like I was their long lost friend. Small kids are like that. They might be a little difficult at times but the rewards are huge. So, as I was saying about how ironic the whole thing was, I came back to teach in the very same first grade classroom, next door to the same first grade teacher as before. I couldn't have done it without her. She was wonderful (both times.) I couldn't have done it without the schools guidance counselor, a close friend of mine either. She was always available for me.  Counting spring break and fall break I spent 7 months in the very same classroom this year. Different children but the same four walls. The best analogy that I can think of to describe this experience is how I feel about my grandchildren. I love them with every ounce of fiber in my being. I enjoy being around them, but at the end of the day they can go home with their parents. That is how I feel about this whole teaching experience.  I still enjoy teaching.  I love the children, but when  my teaching time has expired, I can give them back to their teacher and walk out the door. I'm pretty sure that I have the best of both worlds.

This year has been an exciting time to watch our little 17 month old grandson grow from a baby to a toddler. He is the brightest little boy. He talks a lot for his age. Some words we understand and a lot of words are his own, but I expect that one day soon when I see him, he will be talking in full sentences.When he hugs and kisses his Ammie, it just melts my heart. I love that little fella. He is still too small to stay with us in the camper, but I am looking forward to making memories with him in our new house. Our granddaughter, is the only one of our older grandchildren that will come and visit us much anymore .She visited us this year every chance that she got. I enjoy her being around. Her pawpaw enjoys her being around too. He lets her drive his truck all over the property. She thinks that's pretty cool. Now how many years do we have before she won't think this is fun anymore?  I don't even want to think about it. The older grandchildren have already "outgrown" us. I remember when they thought being here was pretty exciting. I understand though. Teenagers take on a new life of their own. I have to remind myself that I was one, once.

This year has been pretty spectacular with family and friends. I enjoy every visit that I get to make home to visit my mama.  I didn't get as many beach trips in as I would have liked with my sister and mother.  I'm not working now, so I will be available to go to the beach, sista  😉

Church family, you are a  precious jewel. We are forever grateful that Jesus brought us together. Our mission trip this summer to West Virginia was a rewarding experience. Can't wait for many more to come.

 WOLF pack and BFF's. I love and appreciate you. My suitcase is always ready for our next trip.

 My husband and I could look the world over and never find a more faithful (family.) Thank you for helping to make this year, a year to ALWAYS remember.

I find it kinda hard to say good-bye... but, like my little buddy, Winnie the Pooh, once said, "How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard."

here's to 2020 vision,
sammie jean

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