Camping Isn't For Wimps

Every year when the weather turns hot, the traditional American camper loads up his camping gear, abandons the comforts of home and heads for the Great Outdoors.

Once there, he pitches his tent and spends his twilight hours around campfires—roasting wienies, incinerating marshmallows and talking with his next-door-camper about the latest in knapsacks, tent pegs and camp stoves.

After the wienies are consumed, the camper retreats to his wigwam in the wilderness, crawls inside his sleeping bag, counts falling stars and falls asleep to the sound of coyotes howling on the not-too-distant horizon.

Regardless of how many bee stings the camper incurs, he’ll do it all over again next year. Why? Because like every other camper in the known universe, he is a glutton for punishment.

Call me a wet sleeping bag, if you will, but I don't think there is any such thing as a really good camping trip. At some point, you're going to be hot, stinky and miserable, and there isn't anything you, your fairy godmother, or President Trump can do about it.

If summer finds you considering a camping trip, please study my list of observations (and a few choice tips) before loading up and leaving town:

1. Good campsites don't exist. The ones that did exist are now parking garages the size of Montana. If you find a site that's reasonably flat, get out and unload.

2. Bugs are the bosses at campgrounds. You can run, but you can't hide. No matter how many bug-be-gone candles you burn, you won't extinguish the head honchos of the Great Outdoors. Bring a king-size fly-swatter and plenty of first-aid.

3. Campers are never clean, and if you become one, you won't be clean either. Whither thou goest, dirt will go. Wherever thou lodgest, dirt will lodge. Thou food shall be seasoned with a pinch of soil…a touch of ash…a hint of soot…a powdering of perspiration. Don't bother taking any soap.

4. Camping isn’t synonymous with activity. In between hotdogs, there isn’t much for campers to do, besides sit in lawn chairs, listen to crickets chirp and count mosquito bites—which, of course, keeps them busy for a while.

5. Modesty isn’t an option while camping. Your underwear will be viewed by one and all, hanging from low-lying limbs, car antennas and myriad fence posts. Keep this in mind before embarking and bring the best you own.

6. Campers laugh a lot. They have to laugh to keep from crying. They’re generally nursing nasty sunburns, poison ivy or brain concussions from colliding with tent poles in the middle of the night.

7. Campers have character. If they don't have character upon arrival, they have it when they depart. It’s just what happens when adversity arises without easy access to Wal-Mart.

8. Campers go to bed early. They’re worn to a frazzle from chasing flies off the picnic table all day.

9. After sunset, campgrounds are the darkest places on planet Earth. Take plenty of kerosene and renew your faith in God before departing.

10. Camping isn’t for wimps. If you turn out to be wimpier than you thought, do the honorable thing and admit it. The only thing more pathetic than packing it in and finding a motel, is a wimp in denial trying to outmaneuver mud slides and monsoons.

The way I see it, Mother Nature is some kind of wonderful, for sure, but if you really want to enjoy her breathtaking bounty, bring along a Winnebago.

When Duty Calls

This past weekend found me in an emergency animal clinic with Charlie, my granddog. Charlie's mother was out of town on a business trip and Charlie's constant biting of her left leg had turned into a bloody mess.

Dealing with a 78-pound dog, who doesn't understand the word "heel," and doesn't love her neighbor as herself is tough for anyone, but certainly for a woman of small stature like me.

However, it had to be done, and there we were, in the vet's office at 11 p.m. on a Saturday night.

After a consultation, the doctor took Charlie back while I waited in the lobby, drinking strong coffee and scanning through old magazines. A lady about my age walked in with a gray cat in a blue crate. Once seated, the lady took the cat out and began caressing her and talking softly.

The cat was making strange sounds and had a distorted appearance. Her mouth was open and her paws seemed drawn. With a teary face, the lady looked at me and said, "I think she's dying." After expressing how sorry I was, a tear slid down my face. The cat's name was Chloe, and she was 14 years old.

In a few minutes, the technician came and took Chloe back. Oxygen was given, but in the end, Chloe didn't make it. It was a sad time for all. The lady thanked me for "helping" her in her time of need, and my heart hurt as she took her empty crate and walked out alone.

Before I could get too emotional, however, Charlie was back, loopy from a pain injection with a "lampshade" on her head. I had no idea how I'd get her in the car and back home again, but when duty calls, we do what we have to do.

With a prayer for the lady who lost her cat, I hung on to the leash and embarked on the challenge at hand.

A Needle and Thread

I've been wanting to incorporate a vibrant orange into my living room for awhile now, so I gave up on finding the perfect throw pillows and am going with a light-weight afghan instead. Crocheting costs such little money, but it brings such therapeutic joy at the end of my day. If I find the perfect pillows, I'll buy them. But in the meantime, I'm enjoying Plan B.

Morning's Reward

It's 8:30, Friday morning. I’m following my sister down the massive aisles of The Home Depot.

Although the day is young, spring is in the air and Dayle is on a mission. Each year, her green thumb produces award-winning lawns fit for the pages of Better Homes and Gardens. I sense this year will be no exception as we enter the sun-filled nursery.

Trying to sound educated in horticultural matters, I chat about familiar plants nearby, but Dayle isn't listening. Solemn-faced, she studies an array of lush begonias--red, pink and white ones.

Almost reverently, she touches the velvety green leaves, noting each minute detail. Then, carefully, she places three flats of the sanctioned plants onto the waiting wagon.

Caladiums are next, sporting bounteous foliage with broad green margins and deeply veined ruby hearts. Dayle meticulously scrutinizes each plant before choosing.

The wagon is getting difficult, and we leave it behind in search of geraniums.

Gorgeous, grand blossoms nod in the sunlight as we approach, their brilliance breath-taking. A lone red one is promptly selected.

At the check-out register, Dayle inquires about mulch and potted ferns, decides on both, and pays the smiling clerk. I guard the wagon while she fetches the truck.

Within minutes, she returns, gingerly places her prized plants in the back, securing them for the ride home. The mulch is hoisted on board, and we head for the house and unload.

I render myself useless in a lawn chair while Dayle ponders her planting strategy.

 

Noon arrives and the horticulturist pauses for lunch.

As evening approaches, the young plants are affectionately watered. Dayle wipes her brow, puts her tools away, and joins me on the deck where we admire the fruits of her labor.

"It's a lot of hard work," she says, "but in the morning, it's always worth it."

And so it is with life. Planting. Weeding. Watering. Giving of ourselves for the Kingdom’s sake. Knowing that, when evening shadows fall and our time on earth is over, our labors will render us a glorious reward…in the morning....when we rise.

Thought for the Day: Today's discomfort cannot compare with tomorrow's reward.

___________

Linking to Spiritual Sundays, a great place to spend Sunday afternoon.

Happy Birthday, Mother



Mother and Me



Mother with her dolls.

 

Mother with her brood. (Dayle, Elaine & Gayle)



My mother's birthday is Monday. I'll be spending time with her this weekend. I'm beyond grateful for the moments we share. For the life she's lived. For the example she is. It's a privilege calling her "Mom."

Most Christians are familiar with the "virtuous woman" passage in Proverbs. Those verses of Scripture depict my mother perfectly. In her honor, I'm posting them today. In any translation, it's a lovely read. Here it is from The Message.

Proverbs 31:10-31

(The Message)

Hymn to a Good Wife

A good woman is hard to find,

and worth far more than diamonds.

Her husband trusts her without reserve,

and never has reason to regret it.

Never spiteful, she treats him generously

all her life long.

She shops around for the best yarns and cottons,

and enjoys knitting and sewing.

She's like a trading ship that sails to faraway places

and brings back exotic surprises.

She's up before dawn, preparing breakfast

for her family and organizing her day.

She looks over a field and buys it,

then, with money she's put aside, plants a garden.

First thing in the morning, she dresses for work,

rolls up her sleeves, eager to get started.

She senses the worth of her work,

is in no hurry to call it quits for the day.

She's skilled in the crafts of home and hearth,

diligent in homemaking.

She's quick to assist anyone in need,

reaches out to help the poor.

She doesn't worry about her family when it snows;

their winter clothes are all mended and ready to wear.

She makes her own clothing,

and dresses in colorful linens and silks.

Her husband is greatly respected

when he deliberates with the city fathers.

She designs gowns and sells them,

brings the sweaters she knits to the dress shops.

Her clothes are well-made and elegant,

and she always faces tomorrow with a smile.

When she speaks she has something worthwhile to say,

and she always says it kindly.

She keeps an eye on everyone in her household,

and keeps them all busy and productive.

Her children respect and bless her;

her husband joins in with words of praise:

"Many women have done wonderful things,

but you've outclassed them all!"

Charm can mislead and beauty soon fades.

The woman to be admired and praised

is the woman who lives in the Fear-of-God.

Give her everything she deserves!

Festoon her life with praises!
________



Thank you, Lord, for blessing me with a godly mother. Her fingerprints are forever stamped on my life.

Joining Spiritual Sundays. I hope your weekend is wonderful.

Abiding Faith

After a week of valleys and plateaus, I was seeking a few uplifting words of faith for the journey, you might say. Some reassurances of God's all-seeing eye in the affairs of mankind. Well, I'm happy to report that I found some words of faith: In my very own blog—post, after post, after post. "God knows." "God sees." "God cares."

It wasn't the first time I've been my own inspiration. Countless times I've thumbed through old journals and found words I penned during times of great loss, lighting the pathway for today. Or maybe I woke up singing one of my songs, written decades ago, bringing hope to my heart again.

I love it when that happens. Not because I'm somebody special, understand, but because looking back and seeing how my faith has endured—through famine and feast, sunshine and rain, midnight and morning—is the best faith-builder there is.

Some say it's silly to believe that God is aware of mere mortals, or that he has anything to do with anything that happens in life, but I disagree. His Word says otherwise, and I choose to believe that no matter how small the problem in my hand might be, God knows, he sees, and he cares.

If you're doubting that today, my friend, you've not clicked on my blog by accident. He knew, he saw and he cared. Embrace his promises and be blessed.

____________________

"Are not five sparrows sold for two pennies? Yet not one of them is forgotten by God. Indeed, the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Don’t be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows," Luke 12:6-7 (NIV).

I'm linking to Spiritual Sundays, a great place to find inspiration.

God Speaks. Are You Listening?

The 23rd Channel

My HDTV is my shepherd;

My spiritual growth shall want.

It maketh me to sit down and do nothing.

It leadeth me away from faith and family.

It destroyeth my soul.

It leadeth me in the paths of unrighteousness;

I am useless for his Name’s sake.

Yea, though I witness violence, immorality and wicked deeds,

I shall keep on watching.

For my HDTV is my treasure.

Its sound and its picture, they comfort me.

It presenteth entertainment before me and robs me of precious time.

Surely nothing good shall come of my life,

And I will remain deaf to the voice of God forever.

_________________

I'm linking to Spiritual Sundays, where faith lifts are free.

Resolutions

This year I'm resolving to do things that I've always wanted to do but never took time to do them. Nothing earth-moving, understand. Just simple things that appeal to me.

For starters, I'm going to take painting classes. Since I was a kid, I've been amazed at what paints, brushes and skilled hands can produce. I don't expect to be an expert when the class is over, but I do expect to have loads of fun along the way. Maybe I'll even create something worthy of a wall.

Next on my list is to re-decorate my guest room with garage sale and flea market finds. I've considered it many times over the last two years, but I've never committed and taken the leap. This year, I'm diving in. It might take me a few weekends (maybe many weekends) to find what I want, but what fun I'll have looking!

My friend Ann wants me to take shooting lessons with her, and I've agreed. As a single woman, I feel safer with a weapon, and I'd like to get better skilled in that area of life. Ann has friends who own property, and I think it'll be fun to return to the Wild West every now and then and hit some targets.

Some say that guns are bad and kill people, but it's people who kill people. And if a person wants to kill, he doesn't need a gun. Just ask Jesus Christ.

I'm sure I'll embark on other exciting things over the next 12 months, but these three should keep me busy for awhile. Wish me well.

Seeing Single

I never thought I'd be divorced after 20 years of marriage, but life doesn't always go as planned. Unexpected detours can be forced upon us by the decisions of others, and, like it or not, we find ourselves on strange roads in strange places.

For me, being a single woman again was a very strange place. While my husband had always dealt with our financial transactions, I had devoted most of my years to raising our daughter and being a wife.

Regrettably, I was clueless about so many things, and having to learn it so quickly was overwhelming at best. I couldn't sleep at night, fretting over "tomorrow" and how I was going to do what had to be done.

Fast-forward nine years, and you'll see a strong woman, not easily frightened and capable of doing most anything. I have a great job, making more money than I ever dreamed. I have a lovely home, nestled among the pines. I have family and friends who love me, come rain or come shine.

Admittedly, some evenings I long for a special someone to share myself with on an intimate basis. A person to witness my life. To laugh when I laugh and hold me when I cry. Someone to hear me breathing, if you please.

However, despite those times of aloneness, I've come to understand that life without a husband has its upsides.

I cook only if I want to. I wash nobody's dirty clothes but mine. Nobody's wondering where I am, what I'm doing and when I'm coming home. And when the lights go out at night, nobody's sprawled on the opposite side of the bed, snoring like a diesel on an incline. Indeed, life alone isn't all bad.

Maybe Mr. Wonderful will show up one day, and maybe he won't. Either way, it doesn't matter. I'm focusing on what remains, and I'm liking what I see.

"For I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content."
Philippians 4:11

_______________

Linking up to Spiritual Sundays today, where soul food is served.

2010 ~ The Year In Pictures

 January - Finding joy in the comforts of home.

February - Unexpected roses from a long-lost friend. 

March - Glimpses of spring at Big Sister's house.

April - My dear mother celebrates another year of life, and...

 

 ...a puppy named Charlie charms us to the bone.

May - My lovely niece makes us all proud.

June - Daddy's tomatoes make summertime good.

July - The magical circus, shared with a friend.

August - My twin and B-I-L mark 30 years of marriage.

September - Fall fairies decorate my stoop, and ...

... my beautiful niece says, "I do."

October - Another birthday with my beloved twin.

 

November - Thanksgiving memories with people I cherish. 

December - Ainsley Brielle comes into our lives, and ...

 ... my Sweet Sunshine turns 25.
___________

I hope 2010 held memorable times for you and yours.

God Is With Us. All Is Well.

It doesn't take a pessimist to see that we are living in uncertain times. Global crisis and a global government are common topics of discussion these days. Chaos abounds.

During such uncertainty, the Christmas story has more meaning than ever for Christians everywhere.

Christmas isn't a story about Santa Claus, sleigh rides and chestnuts roasting on an open fire. It is a story about a starry night in Bethlehem, when Love entered the world, special delivery.

No longer would man have to live under the weight of sin. The little baby, wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger, was Emmanuel, God with us, the sacrificial spotless Lamb for all mankind. All who believed in him would not perish but have everlasting life.

Some say that God, in his master plan for redemption, took on the form of man because he wanted to better understand the plight of his creation—to know their grief and to feel their pain.

But I disagree.

God is omniscient. He knows everything about everything. He didn't need a trip to earth to enlighten him. Just the opposite, in fact.

God took on the form of man to enlighten you and me. Only after seeing his tears, his bleeding hands and his broken body would we know—beyond any shadow of a doubt—that he knew our grief and felt our pain. His coming to earth was a selfless act of immeasurable love, bringing hope to a hopeless people.

Thousands of years later, when the world spins out of control and crisis looms, hope still reigns in the hearts of those who believe. Let come what may. God is with us. All is well.
________________________________________

A version of this article appeared in The Dallas Morning News, Christmas Day, 2002.

Unto Us

Looking at Christmas lights has been a family tradition since childhood. My daughter and I browsed the neighborhood last night, keeping the tradition alive. Christmas music on the radio, windows down and cameras flashing.

My favorite part of any display is always the manger scene. What a glorious gift from heaven! God, the giver of life, robed in flesh, giving himself to mankind.

In the Old Testament, Isaiah prophesied, "For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given: and the government shall be upon his shoulder: and his name shall be called Wonderful, Counsellor, The mighty God, The everlasting Father, The Prince of Peace."

I'm glad I know who Jesus is.
 

  

  

Linking to Spiritual Sundays.

D is for: DAYLE

L-R: Dayle, Big Sister Elaine and Gayle

What a perfect letter for Alphabe-Thursday! Not only is today my birthday, it's also Dayle's birthday, my identical twin sister. I call her my wombmate.

One of my "Dayle" stories is published in Chicken Soup for the Soul: Twins and More. I titled it, "Weirdly In Sync," which perfectly describes the two of us. Below is another story I wrote about Dayle. It appeared in Reflections magazine, and remains a favorite of mine. Happy birthday, dear Dayle. And MANY more!

____________________

THERE SHE IS—MY BELOVED WOMBMATE

It’s 3 o’clock in the morning. Dayle and I have just finished our third game of Scrabble, yet neither of us is anxious to retire. We’re having too much fun; sleeping can wait.

My Scrabble partner is a reflection of me in so many ways. Born seven minutes apart, we have the same nose, same eyes, same hair, same fingers and same feet. We talk alike, walk alike and laugh alike. Our tastes are the same. Our thoughts are the same. Even our DNA is the same.

I can’t imagine my life without Dayle.

Once when we were kids, we lost sight of each other in Piggly Wiggly. It was a game of hide-and-seek, and Dayle was “it.” After searching everywhere for her wayward twin, Dayle rounded the produce aisle, saw herself in a mirror and hollered, “There you are!”

As I observe her across the table tonight, I find myself repeating those same three words: There you are.

My beloved wombmate. My God-created clone. I love you more than words can say.

I love the way you look in that yellow housecoat. I love the way your hair is piled on your head, with only a pencil holding it in place. I love the way you scowl as you shuffle your letters, hoping to make a high-point word out of “EIEIOOO.”

I love laughing with you, drinking coffee with you or doing nothing with you.

You’ve been a compass to me in times of confusion. A haven to me in times of storm. An encourager to me in times of doubt and dissatisfaction. What a glorious gift you are.

These days, you’re traveling the globe, enjoying life with your retired spouse, but I don’t miss you when you’re gone. No matter how long the road is between us, you’re never far away. Like threads joined together in a piece of crochet, my heart is forever intertwined with yours. All I have to do is breathe, and there you are. ♦

Happy Birthday, Elaine

My big sister's birthday is today. All who know her love her, but to those who don't know her, she's mega-gifted musically.

At the age of two, she was singing harmony with her Sunday school friend, Yolanda. A few years later, a little accordion introduced her to keyboards, and by the time she was 13, she was an accomplished pianist—not by notes, but by ear. If she heard a song, she could play it.

Elaine has always used her gifts for the Kingdom. Whether playing before small, intimate gatherings, or before thousands in packed auditoriums, her desire is to lift Him up. She gives because she’s been given. She doesn't seek earthly rewards.

Sadly, she’s experienced deep hurt in her life. False accusations. Vicious attacks against her character. Wounded in the house of friends, you might say.

But through it all, the music never died. Many times, in the midnight hours, when her impending loss was almost more than she could bear, I heard her at the piano, weeping while she sang of God’s abiding love and faithfulness. I never heard her speak an unkind word about those who lied and did her wrong, but I did hear her pray for them.

I can't be with Elaine on her birthday, but I hope it's everything she wants it to be. She's an amazing woman, a wonderful role model and the best big sister God ever made.

                               ~~~~~~~~

“For there is no friend like a sister, in calm or stormy weather, to cheer one on the tedious way, to fetch one if one goes astray, to lift one if one totters down, to strengthen whilst one stands.”

Simple Pleasure - Living Near To Those Dear

(L-R: Gayle and Dayle)

(L-R: Gayle and Dayle)

She sent me a text the other day, as I was leaving work, saying turnip greens and cornbread were still warm if I wanted some. The food hit the spot, but the simple pleasure is knowing she's around the corner, a stone's throw away. I smile everytime I drive by her street. Life without her would be hard.

_______________

Linking to her blog party, where simple pleasures are celebrated every Thursday.

Simple Pleasure - Simply Speaking

Two years ago: Me. Dayle. Ronald Reagan Medical Center at UCLA. Dr. Berke. Throat surgery. The most surreal (and miraculous) week of my life.

The "surreal" part is another post for another day. The "miraculous" part? Well, to make a LONG story short, due to a rare vocal condition, my voice had all but quit working. Dr. Berke (and his expert team) rewired it and put it back together again. I'm eternally grateful.

Below is a stroll down Memory Lane:
 

Leaving on a jet plane - despite Hurricane Ike.

Me and Wombie at the hotel - after a frightening taxi ride.

Dr. Berke's office. 

Wombie: Her sister's keeper.

 

Me...waiting for final inspection prior to surgery the next day.

  

Me with Dr. Berke--my brilliant knight in the brown shirt.

  

Twelve of the most gorgeous yellow roses I've ever seen.

The whispering, monotone patient, smiling for Wombie (reflected in the glass).

The Pacific Ocean, glistening like a gem.

Two weary, but happy travelers. "Are we there yet?"

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

My simple pleasure today..and every day? Opening my mouth and speaking.

_______

What's your simple pleasure? Inquiring minds want to know.

Click on Wombie's blog and tell us.