Category Archives: Celebrating

LEFTOVERS

01 Thursday Jan 2026

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Give to the Lord the glory due His name; bring an offering, and come into His courts. (Psalms 96:8) NKJV

On this beautiful first day of 2026, I find myself thinking more about things left over from previous years, and how to make them work for good in time to come. Like almost everyone, I began wishing you a happy new year, just before Christmas. I’ve enjoyed reading a few posts concerning hopes for 2026 and comments on closing of the old year. My heart is full of more good memories and love, but my refrigerator is full; just full. As for past years’ happy and woeful, time has moved so quickly for me that I can’t recall what was going on in what year, but have instead, begun calling things, “some time ago”, and “currently”. It’s safer that way.

On the day after Christmas, I started thinking about several leftovers. One was the decorated trees in our home, and the ornaments left from previous years. How I love holding each one and, with leftover memories, recite to myself the occasion or person responsible for each ornament being on our tree. Thankfully, many have the date written or else they would all be from the same time — some time ago! Much to the horror of those gone on before me, our trees are still up on January 1, and may be for several more days. The leftover fatigue of preparation may be partly to blame, but mostly I just like the time now for me to enjoy the sparkle and warmth of our decorations. However, this led me to realize the leftover intentions I never fulfilled. We also call these “what I forgot”. On the years my extended family meets at our house for Christmas, I have small ornaments they sign, date, and hang on our tree. Once or twice it was small bright red apples. Another, it was plain white balls; and a couple others, they signed red jingle bells. This year, I forgot my own tradition. And as always, the pickle was not even mentioned, so it hung in the sunroom tree until my daughter thought of it days afterward. Now, I have the leftover task of taking new bells, or balls, or whatever I can find, to each household and having them sign for Christmas 2025. Ah, leftovers!

The next leftovers that came to mind, are relationships. We all have them. People we thought we would stay in touch with but as time washes all the days together, we lose touch. Not that we don’t care about them or they us, but in healthy normal lifestyles, we meet new people, or form new relationships due to the paths our lives take, and before you know it a year has gone by and those important associations whom we love dearly, have faded into their own busy lives. Like good memories, they dangle just out of reach. We miss them, and we care about them, but (maybe because I am older) there are only so many minutes in a day and when some of those minutes take hours, well, it is just hard to keep up with a fast-paced world. You get it, right? I firmly believe in this quote my mother taught me: “Make new friends and keep the old; one is silver and the other is gold”. Cherish your leftovers and new ones alike.

You likely thought of food the instant you read the title of today’s blog. It is certainly an issue for this house. Why DO we prepare for legions of people when we are expecting 23 including tots and babies? As we ate leftovers (again) yesterday, I knew the line was drawing near, over which the left over food could become dangerous. Even partly cleaned out, our refrigerator is over-stuffed. We are a blessed people, but teetering on foolish, I’m afraid. Now, in my mind, Southern Living and Better Homes and Gardens were written to whet the appetite for cooking, not eating. I try new recipes, but cling to those left over from the — oh, some time ago — when I began collecting recipes from family and friends. So, the time honored traditions continue and are joined by the tempting new concoctions, filling my kitchen with hope, aroma, and yes, leftovers. There is a tin of Fantasy Fudge tempting me now from its place on the counter. I mean, what woman worth the salt in her bread doesn’t make Christmas fudge? I have a box in the freezer to refill this tin, if and when it is needed, which it isn’t. If any of you want fantasy fudge (delicious), please contact me and it is yours. Seems everyone is watching their weight and/or glucose levels, except me. And I should be. Okay, friends, it is a new year, so it is time to feed the trash can or freezer with your Christmas leftovers.

My left over resolution from years ago was to not make new year resolutions. It still stands. I hate to make promises I cannot keep, even to myself. There are however, some things I do try to get right for the new year, repeatedly. Some I have been successful with, like finally getting Gifts From the Garden written. I also began a more diligent study of biblical subjects, and I still need and plan to do more studying. I have been a teeny bit better with time management by letting social media rest more.

It seemed even the bluebirds knew it was the start of a new year this morning, as their excited chattering greeted me at the back door. As it turned out, a cheeping house sparrow had taken a shine to one of the bluebird houses, and the resident blues were quite in a tizzy as they flew in and out of the other empty houses and the magnolia tree, chattering away. Come to think of it, this too, is a leftover — an on-going rivalry over nesting sites. Who knew they’d start so soon? This leads me to some leftovers which are NOT desirable, as ornaments, relationships, and food are.

Can we try to let bygones be bygones, instead of leftovers? I wish I could teach the house sparrows this, so they would stop making trouble for hard working, peaceful songbirds. Let go of resentments and rivalries; move on to more pleasant matters.

Could I put my “money where my mouth is” and begin living out the life Christ has shown me to live? God really does not want the leftovers. I shouldn’t be willing to give Him the leftovers of my time and resources any more than I’d have served family week-old left over food on Christmas. “Honor the Lord with your possessions, and with the first fruits of all your increase;” (Proverbs 3:9) NKJV

Finally, I would like to be true to myself in what I hope to accomplish. Leftover intentions are a burden to carry year after year. This isn’t my first rodeo as they say, so why do I live like I have decades to get it right? I need to literally sit down and print out the things most important to me — things for the good of others, for the glory of God, and for the inner peace of myself. I hope to let go of ideas and thoughts I’ve had so long they’ve grown like bunions. Staying focused on what is “enough”, (as my sister would quote our late brother in Christ, Tommy Carraway), will be easier when I stop being distracted by shoulda/woulda/coulda.

Deciding what leftovers to keep and which to toss, will be my focus after I allow myself the relishing time I need. I feel a bit of purging coming down the pike; and I don’t mean food only. No resolutions; just determination to make this coming year count for good. If anyone has advice for making this easier, I am all ears.

I love you, sweet friends. If January 1 passes and you haven’t made some change you need to, it’s okay! With God, every day is a new year, a new opportunity, and the perfect time to turn leftovers into something spectacular. Happy new year! Trisha

June 2025 — Gone But Not Forgotten!

30 Monday Jun 2025

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From Memorial Day to July, things change. I mean, really change — from 69 to 96 degrees; from clear to muggy; from planting to picking; and a swirl of colors throughout, taking turns on the dance floor. On Memorial Day weekend, I wrote, “I am in a sweatshirt hoodie, drinking hot coffee, watching the day slide into evening with layers of pink frosting spread across the blue sky. Con’t remember such a cool end of May. The Purple Martins are gathering one last meal for the evening. The bluebirds have just settled into their house with new babies. Traffic sounds have subsided and the evening songbirds are singing in the distance. The song “It Is Well With My Soul” comes to mind”.

We do not recall a spring or summer as wet as this one has been, as everyone else is saying. But look at the beautiful lush corn crops! Our garden, which was not large to begin with, has drowned twice and the replanted greenbeans are struggling. Tomatoes have blossom-end rot. Sweet corn looks lost in its own jungle. Cucumbers are running amok through grass; and zinnias are leaning this way and that. But – the okra looks great for now, and I won’t have as much work to do in harvesting it all.

For a few mornings this month, a person could sit out for an hour or so to enjoy coffee and bird watching. Now, the blanket of humidity and heat that wraps the evenings, awaits us in the early morning. Are we thankful for air-conditioning? The air smells of a dank musty basement, until I walk past the Four O’Clocks, or the wild honeysuckle that has wound itself throughout our barberry bush. Everyone talks of how difficult it has been to keep the lawn mowed, and we agree! But how easily the weeds, the million or so weeds, pop out of the soggy ground when I do brave the heat in effort to battle them. You know the routine — for every complaint we have, there are more blessings to uncover. June has indeed been a full month!

We have enjoyed celebrating: the birthday of our first born, Father’s Day, two bluebird families fledged successfully, the air full of Purple Martins and their chorus, a comfortable house to hide from the weather, and one almost-blue hydrangea bloom. (If you’ve read my “Everyone Else Has Blue Hydrangeas, Why Can’t I?”, you understand that last celebration.) We’ve celebrated with family and friends, their special moments. We’ve come to love little league baseball. I finally got to the lake in June to enjoy an amazing crappie meal my sister and her husband cooked, and took the most peaceful boat ride, viewing a blazing yellow sunset complete with several bald eagle sightings.

As you see, there are no mentions of fantastic trips away from home, nor actually, anything extraordinary to tell. I think just observing the world around you with appreciation for what you have, can be an accomplishment through a month like we have had. Rain showers almost daily didn’t amount to devastating floods. An overgrowth of weeds and grass aren’t anything a good fall frost can’t handle. And did I say ‘praise the Lord for A-C’? Just when I was ready to dig up my poor virus-infected, black-spotted roses, Queen Elizabeth produced four beautiful pick blooms. And so, on goes the world, with its own first-evers; on go the families’ agendas — young and old alike. Diseases progress, and some are healed. Rain falls on the just and the unjust. We all get to enjoy the blessings. And God is still God, through all our seasons. Blessed be the name of our Lord! “From the rising of the sun to its going down, the Lord’s name is to be praised.” (Psalm 113:3)

Some of our June enjoyment:

A random visitor

Out With the Old, In With the New

02 Thursday Jan 2025

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Saturday, 12/28/24

Empty stockings, bulging refrigerator. Dog toys and dust all over the floor. Silent Saturday, children have gone home. Instructions to read for the new gifts we own. Stacks of laundry, and weight growing too, we lied we wouldn’t eat for a day or two. A few strings and dust scattered under the tree; lights off, old and new ornaments smiling at me. Moments of “what happened to the time”, blend with new plans for new year to unwind. New candles to light, burned ones to store. In a week 2024 is no more.

Happy New Year, dear reader. January 2, 2025     

What a joyful surprise today! An unexpected visit from our previous neighbors who moved ‘up north’ a couple summers ago. The Opferman family, Michael, Karen, Joey, Tim and Megan were the sweetest neighbors ever and I miss them so much. This visit was the crowning touch to my holiday season! As the new year approached,  I’d had such varied thoughts flying around in my head.

Like new years and old; laughter, tears and being bold; hope and disappointments and blessings untold; fear and faith, sadness and joy and the world we face. All swirling and trying to make sense of each other as they occupy the same space. Focus, I need to focus!

Like a wind among autumn leaves as they mount upward around and around trying to reach the top of their swirling funnel, so have been my thoughts and until today I could not plant myself at the keyboard to focus on one new year’s message. Now I know it – no, it is not ‘may all your dreams come true’; nor is it ‘may you prosper in all you do’; nor is it any resolution for myself. (I am reminded each new year of my previous new year’s resolution some 20 or more years ago, which was to never make another new years resolution. I have kept it quite well.). Although, I’d be happy for you if all your dreams came true. But then what would there be left for you to hope? Oh, and I will celebrate every prosperous season of your life, but perhaps you need to continue striving in some things, to grow stronger in faith, in confidence, and have a reason to hope. 

My message this year, brought by today’s surprise visit is this – may each day hold some joy for you; one or many, small or big, a joy that you may be able to hope and work with a purpose. My joy is knowing Jesus loves me unconditionally, and wants me to succeed in every worthy endeavor. It makes working a joy. It makes hope against this world a joy. This joy brings new chances after failures. This joy offers new journeys for closed doors, and forgiveness for regrets. It is a win/win deal; His strength for my weakness; His wisdom for my lack of it; to know at the end of any failed effort or any rejection of good intentions, if I can say I did my best when the day is done, there is joy. Joy in peace, in knowing God continues with us, bringing joy in big and small ways and finishing the things we’ve begun. He lights new candles for us as He sees the need. Last evening I stepped outside to see an amazing sunset of fiery red and orange behind the thousands of dark bare tree branches reaching upward out of the woods into a navy blue sky. There was the slightest sliver of moon and above it was the ‘star light star bright, first star I see tonight’. Now THAT’S a candle! Shivering in the cold I felt joy in knowing that I know the creator of all this! Pure joy.

A few highlights among many personal joys for me in 2024: our son bought his first house; sweet friends Nan and Tonya beat cancer; another dear friend Dana has courageously beat obstacles in her journey toward healing; my brave mission leader and friend Beth had a successful first surgery before upcoming ones; my husband asked for a new bible for Christmas; and my husband is finally really and truly for sure and certain, retired from farming.

May each day hold for you at least one joy. Happy New Year! Trisha

“My brethren, count it all joy when you fall into various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces patience. But let patience have its perfect work, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking nothing. If any of you lacks wisdom, let him ask of God, who gives to all liberally and without reproach, and it will be given to him.” James 1: 2-5 NKJV

As Birthdays Go

11 Sunday Aug 2024

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“Then God saw everything that He had made, and indeed it was very good. So the evening and the morning were the sixth day.” Genesis 1:31 (NKJV)

My apology to any who may have tried to open the link I published yesterday. I was trying to copy and paste from my iPhone Pages, onto my WordPress site. Obviously, it didn’t work and I wasn’t given the opportunity to view before it published. This isn’t about some big birthday bash, nor any deep introspection; just a reminder to not overlook the blessing of another year. So, here is what I was attempting to share.

Birthday #71 – which sounds ridiculous – it is the age of my parents, right? No. Afraid not. The speed at which time travels would be depressing if not for the friends and family celebrating ‘your day’, (whether or not the birthday girl wanted to celebrate). Gifts and cards are so sweet and thoughtful. Time taken to call or text is much appreciated. Visits, almost unheard of these days, really strike the heart. But no matter how many or how few help you celebrate another birthday, you celebrate you! Me? I used the good towels; sure did! Let your people love on you, say thank you, and enjoy the pause on the time travel train. All too soon we hop back on and do our part to keep it going.

My daddy would have called the day before my birthday, saying, “well, Trish, we’re about to turn another year older aren’t we?” As I’ve said before, we shared our birthday. I miss that call. My Mama would have asked if I would like a roast and a chocolate pie made for my birthday meal. And it would’ve been perfect. In the natural track of time, those trains reached their destinations. Someday my train will too. I hope all those left traveling will know beyond a doubt they are loved, and that they have loved and celebrated me bigger than I ever could have dreamed; more than I deserve. Take a moment on your day to celebrate you. God only made one of you and all He has done is good.

The gift of exceptionally beautiful weather; time spent with my family listening to the birds while sipping our coffee; a great cozy meal at Rudy’s with my family while laughing at my sense of hearing; were all priceless. And of course, the good towels. Do not spare the frills. Life is just too short to skip the cream!

Linger With Your Memories, But Grow In Their Shade

17 Monday Jun 2024

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Mondays, fresh with beginnings and business to take care of, still have the aroma of the weekend; often leaving us pondering how quickly endings arrive. Memories are real, but their sun has set and we don’t profit from sitting idly in their shade. I sat last evening going through photographs from the 1980’s and 90’s as requested by my daughter who conveniently forgot to do so before she left. She needed a family vacation picture from her childhood for a work project today. Old pictures are dangerous! Reminiscing can be sweet or sour, and sadly I notice each time I return to the shoeboxes of memories, that our film and camera, not to mention the lousy photography, have left many memories faded, almost non-existent; not too unlike my own ability to remember!

The fair complexion and auburn hair I once disliked, would now be welcome in place of my more aged appearance. Like so many things, it’s best accepted and not grieved. There are too many situations in life that deserve our grief, so I do not recommend creating more.

Throughout my Monday mountain of laundry, my mind was revolving around the past weekend’s activities and today’s anniversary of my mother’s passing. But there was no time to stop and write and now I’ve forgotten what I was going to say. Mostly, I guess, it is how we ought not to look back too long, as we aren’t going that way anyhow. Father’s Day and our son’s birthday are so close that we often celebrate both the same weekend, and I was excited about grilling Saturday to celebrate our son, and out to eat Sunday to celebrate my husband. Family time is important, and also important, is to stop and praise God for creating family.

So how did all that pan out? Well, not as I planned; heat that could almost have cooked the steak without the grill smothered me on the porch. Our son had worked all day and fell asleep before he came so we waited…waited…The food was good, I will say, but the best part was the four of us sitting in the sunroom chatting. Then, with all my preparations throughout the day, my feet, back, and shoulders were screaming when I tried to put them to bed.

My husband became ill with upper respiratory symptoms and hardly cared how Saturday went, or even if the food was good. But bless his bones, he was up Sunday morning first, coaxing himself to be ready for worship. The rest of the day was good; daughter arrived back at her home safely by mid-afternoon; son back to his home; and husband and I finally got a much needed nap. How old does that sound? I know. It’s sad. But it’s wonderful too! All were safe. We were together. I recuperated and actually found a nice photo which was useful in our daughter’s project.

Then today, the day fifteen years ago on which my mother passed, found me remembering something wonderful about her too. Though there were characteristics about herself she wanted to change, and though her house was often messy with projects, cooking, canning, kids, whatever, she was there. She was doing life in a way that gave her family everything they needed. No time for looking back, she plowed forward through rain or shine, to make time for us all to be together and grow in one another’s shade. On the day our son was born in 1977, my mother was canning green beans, cooking a large supper for us and my brother and dad who at that time were farming and going through a rough patch. My husband and I had landed there two days before while our house was being readied for us to move into, and wouldn’t you know it – Chad came three weeks early, emergency cesarean section. Suddenly Mama had a family of six living there, and a family of five from West Virginia coming to stay to see the new baby. How do you put eleven people in two full beds, two twin beds, and a bassinet? It worked out because of my selfless beautiful God-loving Mama. And several pallets of quilts on the floor.

I am glad to have grown in the shade of my giant of a Mama. Linger long enough with your memories to be thankful; then grow forward.

Home Sweet Home

19 Sunday Nov 2023

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No matter how far or near I travel, even for a few days, I grow more appreciative of home. As I reminisce about a recent trip, and watch our cotton candy sky give way to dusk, I feel there really is no place like home.

I was thinking about the comparisons we make, which can be bad, stealing our joy; or good, increasing our appreciation for things. How was this place compared to that? How is home compared to there? How is our traveling compared to thirty years ago? (!) Having some bit of trouble re-acclimating myself to being home, I kept going outside for fresh air and just to look around and appreciate being home. My head felt “fuzzy” which could have been due to four days of driving the up, down and round and round path from Smokey Mountains to Asheville NC and back. It could as well be from riding with the country boy who found the reins and permission to go home. With ears pinned back and the scent of the stables, this steed was not looking back! I do believe he drove it like a rental!

Our early fiftieth anniversary celebration trip was splendid in many ways, but home cannot be overrated! I brought home touching memories, funny memories, and well, just memories (maybe best left unpacked). But from our front door, we found comfort and beauty like nowhere else. Not because it’s spectacular; no, that was the Biltmore Estate. Not because it is luxuriously accommodating; no, that was the Inn on Biltmore. Simply because it is ours. If there is any comparison to be done, it is only to say, it is better, because it suits us just fine. I found our beautiful Burning Bush hailing from the lawn and Brandywine Maple leaves raining from tree to ground. Our red leaves are no brighter, but no less striking, than those of other areas. But these leaves are here; our leaves. That makes them more appreciated; no prettier, just more appreciated. The drizzle of rain here is nothing spectacular, but so welcome! While in North Carolina, we experienced their severe draught, with disappointment at seeing very little autumn color. Other than a splash here and there of dull yellow, there was a brilliant red oak, common name Scarlet oak. They rather enjoy the dry conditions and were strutting their stuff! Compared to expectations, the lack of color could be a letdown. But compared to the rest of the landscape, those oaks were outstanding! And more appreciated than ever. Otherwise, leaves clung to trees drained of color, and not all the brown fields were due to harvest. A cloud of dust followed a John Deere combine as the soybean crop was being harvested on the Biltmore Estate. Rows of sunflowers surrounding the soybeans hung their big brown faces toward the ground, gasping for a break from heat and dust.

Travel itself can be a larger issue than the destination, so it helps to keep our eyes on the goal. We plan the route and reservations, pack the necessities, and prepare with small GPS screens and chargers, which once was a paper atlas, at least 10 by 14 inches in size. It’s the unknowns that must be dealt with as they arise. Detours; must I say more? To avoid backed up traffic our GPS took us off I65, and onto the ‘scenic’ route. I still feel dizzy just thinking about it. While we slowed down to a new speed limit, there was no stalled traffic and we had opportunity to really see that part of the foothills. On life’s journey, try a detour; even if a forced one. With a different pace you may experience some amazing stuff. Assuredly, if we let God plan the route and we pack according to His instruction, we’ll be prepared for those unknowns – as much as is possible.

Whether the journey goes as planned, or has sudden rounds of ‘what?’, all roads eventually lead home. Our son’s first book he learned to read was called “Home Is Best” which as a toddler, he ‘read’ from memory of hearing it read to him. It began, “East, west, home is best. Sometimes home’s a hanging nest.” It went through many animals and the different kinds of homes they have. Each one is the best. Because it is theirs. Make your home what it needs to be for you and your loved ones’ comfort. Protect it, cherish it, and make it the safe haven from which all can go out and appreciate the world at arms length, and then love coming home.

Likewise, life’s journey has beautiful rewards, as well as its ups and downs. The goal should be getting back home; the eternal home that God has waiting for us. Life can be a fun trip, or the travel may be difficult, but oh, won’t it be great to get home! In Ecclesiastes 12:5, we are reminded, “for man goes to his eternal home, and the mourners go about the streets.” Thinking about the difference age has made in actual road trips, the difficulty of it and adjustments to be made, I realize reluctance to see the vacation end is a thing of the past. We are so ready to get home. Similarly, aging does a miraculous thing about this life thing – we may not cling to it as we did in our youth. The more we roam, the more Heaven is our home.

I try not to get too wrapped up in the trip and keep my eyes on home. Jesus has prepared it (John 14:2), protected it for our homecoming, has forwarded the route details to us in His holy word, and I genuinely believe His presence there will make the trip worthwhile. Trisha

“For we know that if our earthy house, this tent, is destroyed we have a building from God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens.” II Corinthians 5:1

ON BIRTHDAYS, MEMORIES AND HEALING

10 Thursday Aug 2023

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I missed my Mama and Daddy today. I feel like a child. No-one can love you, be interested in you, like your parents. Though I had about a hundred well wishes, never lonely, lavished with family love, and a sister above all others, I long to hear that phone call. I long to sit down to that birthday dinner. The TLC she put into every morsel, gift and hug are incomparable. And daddy’s genuine interest – in my gardening, the kids, and my husband’s welfare – he always took time to listen to my answers and encouraged conversation.

And then, I can hear my brother so clearly, “Hey, this is ya lil brother. hope you’re having a good birthday. love you.” I miss that too.

Special people go, and leave in their wake a void that can’t, and shouldn’t, be filled. It echos with love and I wouldn’t want to fill that up and take it away for anything.

So… this is healing…to accept the void – where memories drop in and stay to warm your heart.

BIRTHDAY BEAUTY
 I awoke today on my 70th, to the song of bluebirds in the air.
 From my front porch I could see them playing everywhere. 
Through the pink crepe myrtles and Mama's maple tree,
 their flash of azure blue is a special gift to me. 
Pink rosebuds have opened to late summer sun,
 and blue morning glories run a fence just for fun. 
 The biggest blessing is, I can hear and see,
 the bountiful gifts sweet nature has for me.   Trisha

“Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and comes down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shadow of turning.” James 1:17

Happy New Year

01 Sunday Jan 2023

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Happy New Year friends! I suppose ‘happy’ is subjective, as well as all inclusive for the many things we wish one another as we closed chapter 2022, and began a new chapter, 2023. Even as I proclaimed ‘happy new year’ to my family last night, I knew we meant so much more. It includes the momentary “let’s celebrate the auld lang sine in a festive spirit”, but from me to them, and to you, it means more fully, “bless your hearts for surviving and thriving the past year, and may you reach bravely and blessed into the abyss of yet unknown”.

Most people who enjoy writing, feel they must say something about anything new I guess. So, with a fresh cup of gingerbread coffee in hand, may I add my two cents worth of ‘happy new year’. With that, I wish I could take all your anxiety, fear and hardships, tie them in a Hefty bag and send them out with our Friday waste pick up. But then, that is God’s job, and He, with all wisdom and clarity of the big picture, is the best at it.

I have been guilty in years past, of saying I was so glad a particular year was over and welcomed a year with a new number. As if any time frame could recognize our expectation for a number on our calendar to alter a thing. No, one day just follows another, and it is up to us to be grateful for every single one of them and to give each day our best shot. I’m not real good at it, but a runner doesn’t have to win to know what she needs to do better to win, right?

As I clear away the Christmas clutter (that which I thought was so warm, cheery and bright when I put it there!), I feel my head clearing as well. Finding the floor again and parting with things I couldn’t before, is liberating. Closing and sealing each box or tote, giving it a place on some shelf, and wiping the dust away makes me breathe a sigh of relief. Is that how we feel about the worn out year? What started 12 months ago as a bright and shiny new opportunity, has lost its luster, and feels ragged and rough, ready for the dumpster. Maybe my lesson to self is not to set those expectations too high; nor to feel disappointed because some issue didn’t magically change by the stroke of midnight December 31. A new year doesn’t promise perfection. Storms will rage; illnesses persist; interest rates rise and children still fall. But praise the Lord, these are temporary, and Jesus is still Lord of all. I am so thankful I can pray to a God Who listens and will never grow tired and weary of our petitions. I praise God for wanting to be our rock, our healer, our guide back home when we stray. Time fails us because we put our trust in it, instead of the one who controls it.

My wish for you all is as James 4:8 says, “Draw near to God and He will draw near to you.” May you be blessed with the desire to know more fully the One Who gave us life, taught us to love, and loves to see us happy. Trisha

Come To The Table – Happy Thanksgiving!

20 Sunday Nov 2022

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Enter into His gates with thanksgiving, and into His courts with praise. Be thankful to Him, and bless His name. For the Lord is good; His mercy is everlasting, and His truth endures to all generations”.

Psalm 100: 4-5

This morning I knew my blog post would be related to Thanksgiving, but I had no real springboard; other than appreciation for all things good. As the nation prepares for Thanksgiving week, I have enjoyed seeing gratitude expressed in different ways. Janette DeWitt posted thankful notes on Facebook this month about the people in her life. How important it is to let people know you are thankful for them! Also, I was amazed by my seven-year-old great nephew’s ‘thankful writing’ of gratitude written in school. I would say his gratitude priorities are rightly placed! Lastly, I am always touched by the thank you voiced by my husband for little things I do which many would take for granted. The things we appreciate are as varied as our personalities, and today Steven Hunter mentioned in Sunday School something that may explain this, called the five love languages. So I came home and Googled it. According to author Gary Chapman, we prefer to have love shown in one or more of five categories. This in turn, influences how we show our love, unless a loved one lets us in on what they prefer. It always raises eyebrows when Steven mentions how his wife speaks his love language as she “serves him his plate”, bless her heart! Presto, springboard! Being the good natured brother he is, I know Steven won’t mind.

I was sitting next to a sweet girl the age of my children when Steven mentioned bringing a plate to your husband, or having a cup of coffee brought to you in the morning. April and I looked at each other and laughed as if to say, “like that’s gonna happen”, but for some that is their love language. I could sure go for the coffee thing myself! And to be honest, I have filled and taken a plate or two, but it was probably on some disabled occasion, or with sarcasm under my breath. (smile) So, here is the love language in our house: if I prepare it, he can walk to the table to receive it. And… And… most importantly, if he provided the table (and he did), then I am honored to prepare and serve our meals on it. What is important to us is, we meet at the table. That is our service to one another.

This also is our service to God, that we meet around His table. He has prepared tables for us to feast on the bread of life in His word (John 6:35); the table of communion where we eat the bread of remembering our Savior’s body (I Corinthians 11:24); and at the table He, as our great Shepherd, prepares for us in the face of adversity, and fills our cups to overflowing (Psalm 23). It seems the love language of our God is multifaceted; love by word, service, gifts, and quality time. Even the language of physical touch He gave, as Jesus came physically to earth to bless us with the greatest gift – Himself. These He gives and these He wants to receive, as we give gratitude, service, gifts, time, and the touch of a hug, hand shake or helping hands. In doing these for one another, we do them also to Him.

Each generation has it’s own idea of where dinner is served, and for that matter, one locale may even define ‘dinner’ differently from another. Raised in rural Kentucky, dinner was for me the noon meal, served on a kitchen table with all family members present. I am thankful for that. Supper was served in the evening in the same style, especially if dinner was lunch because family was away from home. But to not stray any farther from Thanksgiving, I’ll bring it back to the table. Whether it is an heirloom table with all of your Mama’s best dishes served in the evening; or great aunt Fuddy Duddy’s crowded table of garden treasures at noon; or grandma’s gravy on grandpa’s chrome table; or at TV trays from your favorite chairs with your favorite peeps; and whether there are two or twenty, just come to the table. Bring your smiles, your prayers, and your gratitude for being loved on in any language. Bring within your heart those who are no longer at the table. Put the phones away, unless you’re playing music for everyone (my picks are Ben Rector’s “The Thanksgiving Song”, Glen Campbell’s “Home Again” and Louis Armstrong’s “What a Wonderful World”.) As we gather in heart, or in homes, I wish you a very thankful and blessed Thanksgiving. My heart will be full as I speak my language, serving up dinner, at the table. Trisha

Mothers’ Day – For All Women

08 Sunday May 2022

Posted by in Celebrating, Prayer Life

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“Charm is deceitful and beauty is passing, But a woman who fears the Lord, she shall be praised. Give her of the fruit of her hands, And let her own works praise her in the gates.” (Proverbs 31:30-31, NKJV)

As Mother’s Day approached, I was busily tending flower beds and lawn on Thursday, watching newly planted tomatoes and peppers gain strength while green onions emerged from the brown earth. Growing things is what many women do best; tomatoes, love and faith to name a few. My mind was spinning a blog post in honor of all the fascinating moms and their accomplishments, especially the tiny important ones like mastering french braids and gluten free recipes, delivering Girl Scout cookies, baiting fishing hooks, reading for the hundredth time a Little Golden Book and teaching little hands to fold in prayer. (Planting the important things.)

Before I could get to the blogging, tragedy struck the lives of some beautiful mothers I know, and my eagerness was deflated by sorrow and pain for them and their families. As I do so often, I began to name the many women who have had to say goodbye for now to a son or daughter, too soon. My prayers are for these amazing women to be carried when their strength fails in their time of grief; that all the love and creativity they have shown to others will be gathered in manifold volumes and returned to encourage, strengthen and assure them of their great value, and ability to survive. They are strong women, and my Lord is even stronger than all our strengths. Their courage began to nudge me, as I thought of them, to go on with a Mother’s Day message, reminding all women with or without children, how you inspire, create and nourish the earth every single day.

I thought of all the new plants I have growing in my yard all because of a friend, a mom herself, who loves to grow things. I have a little holly I call Dana Holly, because Dana Bazzell discovered it growing where it would not have survived, transplanted it and gave it to me. I also have a Dana pine, a Dana beauty berry, and a Dana buckeye, all for the same reason. Yes, men can do this too if they have a green thumb, but not while they tend to their spouses, children, homes, careers and church activities – with time left for travel, Facebook and cats. Actually, I can’t think of a single woman who isn’t a ‘mom’ to something – dog moms, cat moms, flower moms, all growing beautiful living things and loving the productivity of their hearts and hands. Teachers who create thinkers; writers who produce trips for our imaginations; artists who decorate our world; musicians who put the beat in our hearts and seamstresses who can take a flat piece of cloth and create a girl’s fanciest dream, are all moms of life.

I thank God daily that I get to be Chad’s and Stephanie’s mother. I thank God also for the incredibly strong mother I was blessed to call Mama, and for the women who influenced her, one of whom was my great aunt, Bertie Wilkins Frisby. She was a registered nurse who had no children of her own, but instilled in others a respect for education, faith and family. Knowing she was a nurse, who had lived with Type I diabetes, and had cared for an elderly relative even as her own sight was failing, I felt her influence reaching me as well. We can all recall those pillars of our communities, the sources of strength and wisdom who planted in us a will to keep on keeping on, even when – and maybe especially when – the rose petals fall too soon.

God bless you, my sisters of womanhood, as you plant, water and feed. May God give you the increase you desire. Blessed Mothers’ Day to you. Trisha

In memory of Betty L. Jackson