tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-84796800542849243572024-02-08T00:30:08.085-05:00TheWritePathA writer's blog of short stories, hopefully through them you will become aware of the gentle inner voice of God speaking through a rose or the simple activities of every day, such as playing with your grandchildren. His voice is everywhere. We just need to slow down and listen. When we do, He will heal our deepest hurts and set us on His path to becoming the person He created us to be.Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger127125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479680054284924357.post-14244755770593491142022-11-21T13:18:00.001-05:002022-11-21T13:18:00.143-05:00The Night Before Christmas (A Collection of Christmas Stories)<p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi09VuJ9V8Iyl10zeZwDHKy62zZrb6qybLIWJlA3ST8bzUv4kVAO8GkCF5ErSqp-7x-vBf_XaECQ1uV2FOlCQ5ghJ1CPJ-0YWTlEGg_Zl7v8pJvpkXOk-NhaLIZXGaNvmwcfgugGS5F5qs/s1570/IMG_2089.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1570" data-original-width="951" height="151" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi09VuJ9V8Iyl10zeZwDHKy62zZrb6qybLIWJlA3ST8bzUv4kVAO8GkCF5ErSqp-7x-vBf_XaECQ1uV2FOlCQ5ghJ1CPJ-0YWTlEGg_Zl7v8pJvpkXOk-NhaLIZXGaNvmwcfgugGS5F5qs/w88-h151/IMG_2089.HEIC" width="88" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"> IT'S THAT TIME OF YEAR when the house is filled with the smell of freshly baked cookies, and in the air is a feeling of excitement as everyone runs around the house gathering up their hidden treasures. </span><span style="text-align: left;">One by one they enter the wrapping room filled with boxes, paper, and bows, oh yes we mustn't forget the most sought after items of all, a box filled with everything needed to disguise the item within. As the evening comes to an end, with each one giving a big yawn we head upstairs for a long winter's nap. The chatter of voices from just an hour ago is now silent, so I slipped out of bed to check on the boys. As I pushed open each door I smiled in spite of myself seeing them snug in their beds; undoubtedly with visions of their presents filling their heads. As I gently closed their door I whispered, "Sweet dreams my little ones it won't be long now." Then I slipped down the stairs.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div> In the quiet of the night, I cleaned up all the wrapping mess while chuckling to myself knowing in the morning we would be knee-deep in it all over again, but it will be worth every minute just seeing the delight on each of their faces. When that task was done I picked up my list to double-check making sure I was ready for the big event; breakfast . . . hot baked cinnamon rolls and freshly made cinnamon butter to cover the top, hot cocoa with miniature marshmallows and peppermint sprinkles on top . . . check; dinner . . . all of our favorites, there's the holiday salad made with some apples, grapes, and nuts, then there's sweet potatoes, cranberries, daddies homemade bread, vegetables (I know yuck), sugar cream pie and pecan pie too . . . check; snacks for later . . . some Christmas cookies we all had fun making and eggnog with a scoop of ice cream and topped with whip cream . . . check. With a sigh of relief, I think to myself this is going to be a wonderful Christmas.</div><div><br /></div><div> One of my favorite things to do is to sit in the dark and watch the Christmas tree light, I find it very relaxing and gives me a moment to myself to focus on the true meaning of Christmas. Before going into the living room I fix myself a little Christmas cheer, a nice cup of hot peppermint tea with red hots. On my way to the chair, I grab my afghan and gather it up around me as I curl up to watch the lights. They remind me that Jesus said; "As long as I am in the world, I am the light of the world . . . he that follows me shall not walk in darkness, but shall have the light of life." (John 5:9, 8:12, KJV). As I look at the lights on the tree I picture each one representing a follower of Christ that is shining the light of life throughout their families, neighborhoods, and cities; the lights seem to know my thoughts as they appear to shine brighter. It's not long until that small voice deep inside me begins to speak the words of Peter, ". . . that God is no respecter of persons." (Acts 10:34, KJV), and that ". . . God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish but have everlasting life. For God sent not his Son into the world to condemn the world; but that the world through him might be saved." (John 3:16-17, KJV) I know in my heart there is more the Holy Spirit is trying to tell me so I sit and wait. Before long I find myself singing "Jesus loves the little children, all the children of the world, red and yellow, black and white, they are precious in his. Jesus loves the children of the world." It doesn't matter to Him our race or social position; He just loves us and wants us to know Him. As I continue to ponder these scriptures the tree takes on new meaning for me as I realize the ornaments represent the diversity of man. We are all different, God created us that way, yet He sees us are all the same when we accept Christ into our hearts. In the simplest things, God is sharing the deepest thoughts of His heart. With a smile on my face the tears beginning to form in my eyes I just sit there and stare at the wonders of the tree. But, God wasn't finished as the Holy Spirit whispered, "The eternal God is thy refuge, and underneath are the everlasting arms." (Deut. 33:27, KJV) I learned a long time ago not to try and guess what God is trying to tell me but to wait and listen, so I waited. After a while, I began to notice how the lights were playing off the garland and casting gold and red rays of light from them. That's it, the garland wraps the tree as the everlasting arms of God wrap around His children! And the tree is the cross. Jesus was born to die for all mankind. Every year when we put up our Christmas trees we are sharing the life of Christ. </div><div><br /></div><div><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"> I sit there for the longest time contemplating all the Holy Spirit taught me while </span></span>staring at the beauty of the Christmas tree. . . WHAT WAS THAT! Something caught my eye in the tree. After a few minutes of watching, I decided it must have been my imagination and started to get up . . . THERE IT IS AGAIN . . . a shadow behind the lights! I can't quite make it out but this time there is no mistake I SAW SOMETHING. It wasn't long until I saw one of the ornaments shaking and there in the lights was a mouse, a Christmas mouse was playing in the branches of our Christmas tree. He was so cute, for a mouse that is, and I laughed when I saw him in spite of myself. I realized he had been there all this time, going unnoticed, suddenly the little guy darted back into the branches. It was then that I was aware of the string of the Holy Spirit, "This I speak to you for your own profit . . . that ye may attend upon the Lord without distraction." (1 Cor. 7:35, KJV) Puzzled I sat there deep in thought, then after a while, I realized the mouse was a distraction and if I had seen him earlier I might have missed all the Lord had for me that night. And I wondered how many times we have allowed the cares of this world to distract us from the blessings God has for us. How many moments like this evening have I missed, because I wasn't sensitive to the Holy Spirit. As the morning was drawing near I got up to go back to bed, but I will never forget the things that were shared with me this night and the visit of our Christmas mouse.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIyKkgUsjfc3NrJU6dhWnRTXHUVHnDHVltKsRdQi_IBmVlMvRskl6Bgw9qFUbbktGqJn6xIGjugKJfjQGt2o7smK0muq_xOcsEp7Sc1_KRjrcxHNIp92UrMWtgKsatC0tPYdJ1m5axGws/s591/IMG_2087.PNG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="288" data-original-width="591" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIyKkgUsjfc3NrJU6dhWnRTXHUVHnDHVltKsRdQi_IBmVlMvRskl6Bgw9qFUbbktGqJn6xIGjugKJfjQGt2o7smK0muq_xOcsEp7Sc1_KRjrcxHNIp92UrMWtgKsatC0tPYdJ1m5axGws/s320/IMG_2087.PNG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><br /></div><div> "Oh, little town of Bethlehem, how still we see the lie. Above thy deep and dreamless sleep, the silent stars go by. Yet in thy dark streets shineth, the everlasting light, the hopes and fears of all the years are met in the tonight."</div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">"Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night."</div><div><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><span style="vertical-align: inherit;"><br /></span></span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div> </div>BeverlyJeffershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10901007309868454859noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479680054284924357.post-86344563656944868232022-11-21T13:09:00.001-05:002022-11-21T13:09:00.169-05:00The Life of a Teacup ( from a collection of Childrens Stories)<p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfqCgS6ecmQqzjEwVOhqAIzME59rQ59ny8vLSYlgAJw_9uPY-91QuDU0h3IS9lmuQov1BMv-UyqWoasQ-CbUnNQ1w5w20NGoe7pTUJTetbgp-_8y_EXi0r9pdQ8d8-Fz6FU2lZbivp3Mw/s964/IMG_2001.PNG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="963" data-original-width="964" height="124" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfqCgS6ecmQqzjEwVOhqAIzME59rQ59ny8vLSYlgAJw_9uPY-91QuDU0h3IS9lmuQov1BMv-UyqWoasQ-CbUnNQ1w5w20NGoe7pTUJTetbgp-_8y_EXi0r9pdQ8d8-Fz6FU2lZbivp3Mw/w125-h124/IMG_2001.PNG" width="125" /></a></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"> I like to collect teacups, so when I get the chance I browse through china shops or antique stores to look for them, there is one shop, in particular, I really enjoy browsing through. One afternoon while I was there I saw a Tea-for One set that I just couldn't go home without. It had a pink rose that joined the teapot perfectly to the cup and the handles looked like a fish and it had gold edging. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span> I asked the sales clerk if I could see it, stating how beautiful I thought it was, and then the most amazing thing happened . . . the teacup spoke!</span> I haven't always been a teacup, there was a time all I was was a lump of red clay. My Master took me and rolled me and rolled me, then patted me all over and over again. I didn't like it, and I yelled out at him to leave me alone, but he only smiled and said, "Not Yet."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span><span> </span>Then I was placed on a spinning wheel, and suddenly I was spinning around and around and around. "Stop!" I cried, "I'm getting dizzy," but my Master only nodded and said, "Not yet." Then he dipped his hands in the water again and kept on spinning me around and around. Then not only was I dizzy I was all wet. </span> When he stopped the wheel I was so relieved until I saw him pick up a wire and before I could yell for him to stop, he cut me right off the wheel!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span> Then my Master gently carried me over to a large round box with a window in it and sat me down, I was so relieved that when he closed the door I decided to take a bit of a nap. It seemed like I just got comfortable and was almost asleep that I realized this box was so hot! I wondered why he would put me in here and began to pound on the door yelling as loud as I could "Let me out of here!" I saw him standing near the door shaking his head as I faintly heard him say "Not Yet."</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span><span> Finally, the door was opened, and when he took me out he carried me over to a shelf and sat me down on a shelf. Every once in a while he came back over and picked me up, after checking me out all over he sat me back down and walked away again. Then just as I was getting comfortable again. he came back over and carried me to a table and began to put paint all over me, the fumes were horrible and I thought I would gag, " Stop it I can't breathe" but he only shook his head and said "Not yet."</span><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span><span><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span><span><span> After checking me all over he put me back into another hot box, he called an oven, only this one was twice as hot! I thought I was going to suffocate. I began to beg and plead with him from inside the oven, crying out from inside the oven, "Please let me out of here." I could see him looking in at me smiling and shaking his head, "Nor yet" he said.</span><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span><span><span><span> Then I knew there was no help, I wasn't going to make it, just when I was ready to give up the door opened, and he took me out and placed me on another shelf. I sat there trying to understand all that I had been through when my Master handed me a mirror and said, "Look at yourself and see what you have become." And when I did I couldn't believe it was me! I stared at the teacup looking back at me, "This can't be me, I was just an ugly clump of red clay, and this teacup is beautiful." </span></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span><span><span><span><span> Then in the gentlest voice, I ever heard my Master began to tell me, "I know it hurt to be rolled and patted, </span>but if I would have left you the way you were you would have dried up. I know it made you dizzy to spin around on the wheel and kept you wet, but if I would have stopped you would have crumbled. I knew you were uncomfortable in the oven, and it was hot, but if I hadn't put you in there you would have cracked. I knew the fumes were bad when I brushed and painted you, but you see if I hadn't done that you wouldn't have hardened and there would not have been any color in your life. And if I hadn't put you back into the oven a second time you would not have survived for very long because the hardness was not completed and your beauty would not shine through. Now you are finished, just the way I saw you when I created you."</span><br /></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span><span><span><span><span> Our lives are a lot like this teacup. When you think about it we can find ourselves in all stages of preparation, but like this teacup when God is finished with us we will be beautiful in His sight, inside and out,</span><br /></span></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span><span><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> </div><br /> <p></p>BeverlyJeffershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10901007309868454859noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479680054284924357.post-79486065786395297922022-05-12T08:00:00.001-04:002023-01-18T20:54:23.853-05:00A Call to Prayer (Day 4 from Cleansing Thoughts) <p> I tried to turn away from what I was seeing in my mind's eye, but it held me captive; then suddenly, the image changed, and I could not refrain from crying out. Some time ago, I don't remember just when I had seen a picture of Christ crying as He held an unborn child in His hand. There are no memorials to these victims. No Hall of Names containing the Pages of Testimony symbolic of their gravestones. <i>As a nation</i>, we do not unite in reverence to their memory; instead, we stand divided, torn between the freedom of choice and the right to life. Oh, how it must grieve the heart of God.</p><p><span> When I look down on the cluster of six yellow tulips, I am reminded of that day. I came out of my prayer closet with a renewed sense of value towards life and a hope that as a nation we would repent and stand together, as the Jewish people have, to remember those lives we have taken by abortion. The Word of God says He is looking for those who will make up a hedge and stand in the gap before Him. Second Chronicles 7:14 (NKJV) says, "If my people who are called by My name will humble themselves, and pray and seek My face, and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven, and will forgive their sin and heal their land."</span><br /></p><p><span><span> "Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they do" (Luke 23:34, NKJV).</span><br /></span></p><p><span> Man's inhumanity to man leaves its scars on generation after generation. The visible evidence of the Holocaust can be seen not only in numbers tattooed on the forearm of its survivors but in places like the Yah Vashem, which stands a memorial to its victims. But only God can see the scars and the victims left by the choices we make when we place our will above the will of God. Psalm 123:1,4,8 and 13 (NKJV) speaks of God's perfect knowledge of man, "O Lord, You have searched me and know me . . . For there is not a word on my tongue, <i>but</i> behold, O Lord, You know it altogether . . . If I ascend into heaven, You are there; If I make my bed in hell, behold, You are there . . . For You formed my inward parts; You covered me in my mother's womb."<br /></span></p><p> We are <i>known</i> by God, and His love for us caused Him to reach out with the nailed-scared hands of His only son, Jesus Christ, to offer forgiveness for our sins. Beloved, if you are reading this and you have has an abortion, know God loves you and is ready to forgive you. He wants to heal the scars of your past and give you a renewed hope for the future. He has said in His Word He would wipe every tear from your eyes and there would be no more sorrow or pain, only the joy of living in His presence for all eternity. Let me pray with you right now that you may begin anew, healed, and forgiven.<br /></p><p><span> "Heavenly Father, I stand here with Your daughter, asking for your forgiveness. I have allowed my will to come before the innocent life of another, Come into my heart and forgive me of my sin. Take this burden from me and show me how I might use my life to make a difference in the fight against abortion. Father, shower Your daughter in Your love that she may know the power of your forgiveness. It is in Jesus' name I pray."</span><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxUFeyTxLkimIf3CkDCvBBWJBVTF8Qa2PApF36S-qbbaqSrk50t8944giy8QXcr-6GQNYEx_PaFie8-nNsB6ZjjlYVvOZJMqP3Z26I4Auie7RnHuuYPvH7oy7P6plSrYUd6VsdT_bA2Hk/s848/IMG_1786.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="848" data-original-width="561" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxUFeyTxLkimIf3CkDCvBBWJBVTF8Qa2PApF36S-qbbaqSrk50t8944giy8QXcr-6GQNYEx_PaFie8-nNsB6ZjjlYVvOZJMqP3Z26I4Auie7RnHuuYPvH7oy7P6plSrYUd6VsdT_bA2Hk/s320/IMG_1786.PNG" /></a></div><br /><span><br /></span><p></p>BeverlyJeffershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10901007309868454859noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479680054284924357.post-15587421164337513182022-05-11T08:00:00.001-04:002023-01-18T20:54:38.210-05:00A Call to Prayer (Day 3 from Cleansing Thoughts)<p style="text-align: left;"><span> </span><span> Several months later, after I had returned home, the reality of what I experienced that day came like a flood </span>into my mind. Sometimes when praying, I like to have a reference point, something I can see or touch to help me stay focused on what I am praying for. The images of the children of the children filled my thoughts, but they had no faces. There were no candles lit. These were the babies lost to a present-day Holocaust on the abortion tables across our country. Children marked for extinction because we claim our freedom of choice. Mankind has not learned from the past; they have only found another way to eliminate what stands in their way. The choices we make have caused an endless number of babies to be thrown aside, not even to be recognized as human life. Never given a name. Most never to be remembered. The words of the Jewish poet filled my heart, "Unto every person, there is a name bestowed on him by God." These little ones were <i>known</i> by God when they were conceived in their mothers' womb. Psalm 139:15 and 16 (NKJV) states, "My frame was not hidden from You when I was made in secret, <i>and</i> skillfully wrought in the lowest parts of the earth. Your eyes saw my substance, being yet unformed. And in Your book they all were written, the days fashioned for me when as <i>yet they were</i> none of them." It is interesting to note that in this passage of scripture, two Jewish publications translate the text using more of a human approach uses the phrase "Your eyes saw my unformed limbs"; and the Complete Jewish Bible, "My bones were not hidden from you," and "Your eyes could see me as an embryo." (<i>Tanakh </i>is an acronym for the Old Testament. <i>T</i> for <i>torah</i>, which means "Pentateuch;" <i>N</i> for <i>neviim </i>which means "prophets;" and <i>KH</i> for <i>ketuvim</i>, which means "writtings.") The value of human life appears more evident when read in this text. My heart cries out to these little ones yet unborn and so rejected. No value placed in them. No name recorded to be read in the halls of remembrance.</p><p style="text-align: left;"><span> I sat for what seemed like a very long time in the silence of my prayer closet before the images of the Yad Vashem filled my thoughts once again. I remembered standing before the Wall of Remembrance, where once a year, the survivors and their families gather to take part in a memorial ceremony. At one point in the ceremony, a siren is blown, and for a period of two minutes, throughout the entire country, the people unite. All work is halted. Cars and busses pull to the side of the road. Everywhere, people stop what they are doing as an entire nation stands in silence, showing reverence to the victims of the Holocaust.</span><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span><span> A sculpture </span></span>I could not bear to look upon pressed its way into my memory; it was the "Memorial to the Victims in Camps." The artist was creating a mental picture of these victims in the barbed-wire fence that surrounded the concentration camps. Only, this fence was made of twisted bodies that appeared to be screaming soundlessly to heaven with their sharply angled limbs forming the wire and their hands fashioning the knots. Suddenly, I remembered a conversation I had, had with my dad after I returned and had shared with him what I had seen. He told me he was with the medical team that first liberated the camp of Dachau. From what he shared with me, what I saw depicted in this sculpture was more of a vision of reality than just an artist's view of the tragic event.</p><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVpTIytxA1gfKwwkq9OQlqQQo8XkNLfJqJtAfywrtMwBs9cFT30ExCDERlI7KlewtNiVQky6j_CJKFcL2bST24FxGZJoKiKlO5SRPRCeWsI86xJZUBUjZ1p3aYK-1o8bMF1YpHJhoh7Ws/s558/IMG_1783.PNG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="324" data-original-width="558" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVpTIytxA1gfKwwkq9OQlqQQo8XkNLfJqJtAfywrtMwBs9cFT30ExCDERlI7KlewtNiVQky6j_CJKFcL2bST24FxGZJoKiKlO5SRPRCeWsI86xJZUBUjZ1p3aYK-1o8bMF1YpHJhoh7Ws/s320/IMG_1783.PNG" width="320" /></a></div><br /> <div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvtCpDaCaxS1oB_cYqf9-H5mdipMwiOaaQaL15fkVVCgvarG0qK1T4kEQZWyILJTKy9HxTsjCCOmAgMoE_avN7_v2kiCRAwk1bxTA4ZMKX5OcS8kU7-MfO94OHZLVWJg2itC0JUo-_M8I/s848/IMG_1784.PNG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="848" data-original-width="568" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvtCpDaCaxS1oB_cYqf9-H5mdipMwiOaaQaL15fkVVCgvarG0qK1T4kEQZWyILJTKy9HxTsjCCOmAgMoE_avN7_v2kiCRAwk1bxTA4ZMKX5OcS8kU7-MfO94OHZLVWJg2itC0JUo-_M8I/w214-h320/IMG_1784.PNG" width="214" /></a></div><p></p><br /></div>BeverlyJeffershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10901007309868454859noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479680054284924357.post-77669632621798129182022-05-10T08:00:00.001-04:002023-01-18T20:54:42.753-05:00Call to Prayer (Day 2 from Cleansing Thoughts)<p> <span> The cold reality of what I was about to witness was first seen in a sculpture called Adolescence Broken Off, which stood on the cavern cradling the Children's Memorial and the Hall of Remembrance. This memorial is for the 1.5 million children who perished during the Holocaust. The money to fund the sculpture was donated by the surviving parents of a two-and-a-half-year-old boy who was put to death in Auschwitz. The memorial consist of several square pillars standing in rows like children lined up for a portrait. The ashen color of the stone, standing so still, was hard enough to bear until I noticed that the top of the pillars was left uncut and unfinished, just as the lives of these children were cut off before they were given the chance to live them. When I first entered the Hall of Remembrance, my eyes met with portraits, suspended from the ceiling, of the innocent children; the silence was deafening, broken only by the reading of their names, ages, and place of birth. Next, we were told to place our hand on a rail, and as we inched our way forward, we were led into a darkened room covered from ceiling to floor with glass. In the center of the room was a pedestal arranged with candles. The flames reflecting from the glass appeared to be thousands of little starts reaching towards heaven. As we were led outside, not a word was spoken by anyone. many were crying; others just walked away silently with the cold reality they had just seen and heard etched on their faces.</span></p><p><span><span> This wasn't a place you just saw with your eyes, but with your heart. For me, it was a silent reality that was more devastating than I could have ever imagined. The images left in my mind and on my heart from that day would remain with me forever. To this day when I remember the tears still flow freely.</span><br /></span></p><p><span><span><span> Over the years, the strength of the Jewish people has been seen as they continue to strive in overcoming this terrible tragedy. On the Day of Remembrance, a poem entitled "Unto Every Person There Is a Name" is read to perpetuate the memory of the Jewish victims of the Holocaust as individuals. The opening stanza reads, "Unto every person there is a name, bestowed on him my God, and given to him by his parents." (The only name that appeared on the poem was Zelda)<span> </span></span><br /></span></span></p><p><span><span><span><span><span> Six million Jews died a tragic senseless death, of whom one and a half million were children, while the world, for the most part, remained silent. This day servers to remind those who will listen to never allow a human life to die in vain, for all must be remembered in the eyes of man and in the eyes of God. </span></span></span></span></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT2QVFV-5rB70kMDoXOIaFkX1IYQymRXKrcLDcN_6ZujjGTMpf6GM2cb09a4s8t-dww8wF81Bt9gG49vL75T1Q7_q59Q3hTzwtV788nlgJtM2pwwBgxP49Jp36Mpekh39k-g1J8QSiT6E/s2669/IMG_1762.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2251" data-original-width="2669" height="169" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT2QVFV-5rB70kMDoXOIaFkX1IYQymRXKrcLDcN_6ZujjGTMpf6GM2cb09a4s8t-dww8wF81Bt9gG49vL75T1Q7_q59Q3hTzwtV788nlgJtM2pwwBgxP49Jp36Mpekh39k-g1J8QSiT6E/w200-h169/IMG_1762.HEIC" width="200" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJu-eZ-FilnyBV6OSRN7Vf-eOSjerqtL97051lNme2RcviyUYnE9z09epyTq0sci8b_WbSOr59Fhvnyw_MqyUTQ6S4SkrcgnR0o3DoEGJ6HPMGGOLky6W9THiDPQ3x_cCMk7JCRKhcrSk/s565/IMG_1764.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="309" data-original-width="565" height="109" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJu-eZ-FilnyBV6OSRN7Vf-eOSjerqtL97051lNme2RcviyUYnE9z09epyTq0sci8b_WbSOr59Fhvnyw_MqyUTQ6S4SkrcgnR0o3DoEGJ6HPMGGOLky6W9THiDPQ3x_cCMk7JCRKhcrSk/w200-h109/IMG_1764.PNG" width="200" /></a></div><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh12vu8rcQfhaaNqdK0KqL2ou8zJAw_L9iJx2tnj_rtyNZC_VS6lie6MGwuVTK8bacGvGGzX_ZMlVHHFoM5gxHuW5CscRAbgEOwW9nAho71f_-y3dHpZe8jXwTOk5aa8Ht4Tf9bcMW8Uis/s560/IMG_1768.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="377" data-original-width="560" height="135" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh12vu8rcQfhaaNqdK0KqL2ou8zJAw_L9iJx2tnj_rtyNZC_VS6lie6MGwuVTK8bacGvGGzX_ZMlVHHFoM5gxHuW5CscRAbgEOwW9nAho71f_-y3dHpZe8jXwTOk5aa8Ht4Tf9bcMW8Uis/w200-h135/IMG_1768.PNG" width="200" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><p></p><p><span><span><span><span><br /><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></p>BeverlyJeffershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10901007309868454859noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479680054284924357.post-34926549580577441562022-05-09T08:00:00.001-04:002023-01-18T20:54:47.155-05:00A Call to Prayer (Day 1 from Cleansing Thoughts)<div class="separator"><p style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><span><span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span></span></span> <span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span></p></div><p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhWrOxB-3cO8dUcTEX9-TetPNI1nUKy_pPvEdNsnQiyjuAVf3P274h4rGq1O09GBaO1_k6sF-3s2QY2t9R0s5DhEi4o7qcBWU4xvq4GDx3n3zoEGHyTV7v9G3L63nYBghOTUg9ioWTzPI/s1356/IMG_1761.PNG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1356" data-original-width="1212" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhWrOxB-3cO8dUcTEX9-TetPNI1nUKy_pPvEdNsnQiyjuAVf3P274h4rGq1O09GBaO1_k6sF-3s2QY2t9R0s5DhEi4o7qcBWU4xvq4GDx3n3zoEGHyTV7v9G3L63nYBghOTUg9ioWTzPI/w238-h320/IMG_1761.PNG" width="238" /></a></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span> </span> <span> </span><span> </span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span><span> </span><span> </span> </span>IT HAD BEEN A LONG cold winter, and I was glad to see spring arrive with all the newness of life that it symbolizes. </span><span style="text-align: left;"> I remember seeing my first robin of the year, knowing the spring flowers were soon to follow. There is something peaceful about a garden; perhaps it is in the beauty of the flowers of spring or their sweet fragrance that fills the air. To me, it is the flowers of spring that bring a feeling of renewed hope and restoration. Yet as I stand here looking down at a cluster of six yellow tulips that grace my flower garden, there is no beauty to be seen, no sweet fragrance that fills the air, only a feeling of renewed hope that fills my heart. You see, they were planted as a memorial and a call to prayer.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"> As early as the ninth century, yellow was used as an identifying color to mark the Jewish people for discrimination. This marking system was revived when Adolf Hilter required all Greman Jews to wear a yellow star of David on September 1, 1941. In some northern Jewish communities, the tulip blooms around the time of their Day of Remembrance for the Holocaust on the twenty-seventh of the Jewish month of <i>Nisan</i> (March or April). Because of these two factors, six yellow tulips have come to symbolize the six million Jews that lost their lives. On a recent trip to Isreal, we made an unscheduled stop at the Yad Vashem, the Holocaust Museum. It was there in the silent halls that their symbol became my call to prayer.</p><p style="text-align: left;"><span> The path leading up to the museum itself was called the Avenue of the Righteous Among the Nations. This walkway is lined on all sides with row after row of trees, each one planted in remembrance of those who helped protect the Jewish people during this dark time in our history. On the grounds were several memorials depicting the artist's view of this tragic event. One was an abstract sculpture called The Scream of a Mother. I felt small in comparison as I looked upon the screaming mother holding the limp body of her child. As we entered the museum itself, silence filled the air, only broken by the gentle crying of those visiting. My heart was saddened as I looked upon the yellow Star of David and read how this mark of discrimination, which brought so much pain and death to those who wore it, was made and distributed by forced Jewish labor. The tears fell freely from my eyes as I read the accounts of those who had been held captive. I stood in awe before a mural of a dorm within the concentration camps of Europe. I can still see the faces of those within its walls. Words can not express what I saw there or the feelings I experienced, but there was one area that had such an impact on me I feel I must try.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiFV2ov1NQ6ZiTRUPTpX6L9jvfJYJsf0T2R60CdOTYkUdVryMV-l-6vKkiEsWKFFFulB8v4ZT7qm-KU-Px4KDCvGnBZuZ5NkaHhhdL-gqxD97HoKh2DoXaEzqo0ZxfPH1SbV37oEpmnUU/s569/IMG_1767.PNG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="382" data-original-width="569" height="134" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiFV2ov1NQ6ZiTRUPTpX6L9jvfJYJsf0T2R60CdOTYkUdVryMV-l-6vKkiEsWKFFFulB8v4ZT7qm-KU-Px4KDCvGnBZuZ5NkaHhhdL-gqxD97HoKh2DoXaEzqo0ZxfPH1SbV37oEpmnUU/w200-h134/IMG_1767.PNG" width="200" /></a> <span style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja_ziorE7i3b1fTL94cXMwU84eLTXhfAqTnaBBj0nrhEBzRLropSd5YpqruNmsivdYTYTyhUD5D7lLts5riq1YgTw43EHfBCAj9AyXKYuc0g_zUV7_oxZOUaEYNR7Iki0cdQgkIWze8B8/s2181/IMG_1763.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2181" data-original-width="1979" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEja_ziorE7i3b1fTL94cXMwU84eLTXhfAqTnaBBj0nrhEBzRLropSd5YpqruNmsivdYTYTyhUD5D7lLts5riq1YgTw43EHfBCAj9AyXKYuc0g_zUV7_oxZOUaEYNR7Iki0cdQgkIWze8B8/w181-h200/IMG_1763.HEIC" width="181" /></a> </span> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtBOs_9yMh66sVisTOhn6QFBE7DgtleEb8IpeMw1j8vlyKeeGfpFL6N8uHAMP_9_ZObrwurOXga8Heo8OvskVnBqUNK64fYR3URk21v-OW5xUXy1m4Fa4FxxLm3QY8yepgv-figBDu6aM/s569/IMG_1769.PNG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="564" data-original-width="569" height="199" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtBOs_9yMh66sVisTOhn6QFBE7DgtleEb8IpeMw1j8vlyKeeGfpFL6N8uHAMP_9_ZObrwurOXga8Heo8OvskVnBqUNK64fYR3URk21v-OW5xUXy1m4Fa4FxxLm3QY8yepgv-figBDu6aM/w200-h199/IMG_1769.PNG" width="200" /></a></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><span><br /></span><p></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span><br /></span></p>BeverlyJeffershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10901007309868454859noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479680054284924357.post-67741367180996631682022-01-13T08:00:00.001-05:002022-01-13T08:00:00.162-05:00For Everything There is a Season (Day 5 from an untitled collection)<p style="text-align: center;"> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgng382PAicbkA0uyt1UUojcppzy-jVKuopSIp-vfi3yLrCFav2VDsNJMKw0OoVPDtXg7gUSTmi3-w5Dg-uMaU0BQDdaK9Vbmt4vmNnePZoPcea-D3CIFhgwPMEWkSMjBdchXmL9oEX9Sz10DQb-feJ83owwfJ1oJKr8EclVmhcL-8V759ooRGcvXE6=s1756" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1756" data-original-width="1241" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgng382PAicbkA0uyt1UUojcppzy-jVKuopSIp-vfi3yLrCFav2VDsNJMKw0OoVPDtXg7gUSTmi3-w5Dg-uMaU0BQDdaK9Vbmt4vmNnePZoPcea-D3CIFhgwPMEWkSMjBdchXmL9oEX9Sz10DQb-feJ83owwfJ1oJKr8EclVmhcL-8V759ooRGcvXE6=w141-h200" width="141" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">As I sit here I can
hear the wind howling outside and feel the cold creeping into the night giving
us a harsh reminder that the long winter months had arrived. So often writers
or artists associate this time of year with negative emotions, but as a
gardener, winter is a time of preparation and hope as we plan for the spring
gardening season. With that in mind, to me, winter represents our retirement
years until the time God calls us home.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> I had been standing on God’s promise that our
latter years were better than our beginning and as time grew closer the
hope of what those years would be like became almost alive within my heart, the
Bible puts it this, “Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ!
In his great mercy, he has given us new birth into a living hope through the
resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead and into an inheritance that can
never perish, spoil, or fade--kept in heaven for you, who through faith are
shielded by God’s power until the coming of the salvation that is ready to be
revealed in the last time.” (1 Peter 1:3-5 NIV). For the last thirteen years, we
had worked together, and when the time, came we retired together as well. It’s
been a short seven years since we retired and I will say God kept His promise
and our latter years have been all He said they would be. Our relationship has
grown and in many ways, we have become an older version than the people we once
were. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Our biggest issue is
our health, we’ve had to learn to depend on each other when I tore the
meniscus in my knee my husband filled in and did my work for me, and when he got
hurt this last gardening season I fill in for him. It was the same when he had
his back surgery, and I had neck surgery and shoulder replacement. Then last
year we discovered how hard it was when both of us were having issues, but with
the Lord's help we got through it the best we could, and if we couldn’t we
learned how to live with it. Never before had I understood Isaiah 46:4 like I
did this gardening season, “Even to your old age and gray hairs I am he, I am
he who sustains you. I have made you and I will carry you; I will sustain you
and I will rescue you” (NIV).<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I have come to think
our retirement years are spent learning all the lessons we failed to when we
were younger, for example, I have always been very independent and if you told
me I couldn’t do it, I would show you I could . . . even if it killed me. The
year we moved to the lake I had rotator cuff surgery in both arms and five
years later a reverse shoulder replacement in my right. Our yard is not the
easiest for a garden with 90% of it on a hill that has a lot of trees, and of
course tree roots, but I was determined to have my garden. Then this past
growing season I pushed myself beyond my limits and collapsed in the garden. Now
I have a decision to make, lose the garden I love or find a way to make it
easier for me to maintain. I’ve gone over every possibility and the only option
is to move it, and the only way I can do that is to find someone to help me. Adjusting
to limitations just isn’t me, when my shoulder was replaced the doctor told me
of the limitations I would have but all I heard yeas you won’t be able to do .
. . and I can do all those things because of physical therapy, but there is no therapy
for what is happening now, we all get older and all the things we did to push
our bodies when we were younger catches up with us. My mind tells me I can do
anything I set my mind to do, but my body winds the argument. I’m losing my
independents. One afternoon I was walking through the garden, feeling sorry for
myself, when the Lord spoke to my heart, “You can do all things through Me, for
I will strengthen you” (modified version of Philippians 4:13 NIV). I spent the
next hour or so understanding what He was really saying to me. In my mind, He
was saying He would give me the strength to <i>do
it myself</i>, but in my heart, He was telling me He would give me the strength
to make the changes <i>within myself</i>.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p>
</p><p class="MsoSubtitle"><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif";"> </span><span style="color: windowtext; font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">Retirement Lesson #1 Learn your
limitations, and Lesson #2 Learn to ask or accept help. Oh, I still have so
much to learn, and I thought our golden years were supposed to be fun!<o:p></o:p></span></p>BeverlyJeffershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10901007309868454859noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479680054284924357.post-69045701079486265912022-01-11T08:00:00.001-05:002022-01-11T08:00:00.167-05:00For Everything There is a Season (Day 4 from an untitled collection)<p style="text-align: center;"> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhVEQMI2W_bfq89D-G7s-KsoK7rJ5Ic6WJx0muLp1GEodWdPAmH35ctfOEPB2s8zGp_H67EwvaY1so2uGNPV4ENFQnXL5hn7kAG8A732we_GhvmOou1UALrVGxKHpSLkNBPedzrqm3pg-Ktv0ZSWsEEDL6KcCfxh3JeBQlgS7RiRFNSWz8og4UFe50K=s1700" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1700" data-original-width="1614" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhVEQMI2W_bfq89D-G7s-KsoK7rJ5Ic6WJx0muLp1GEodWdPAmH35ctfOEPB2s8zGp_H67EwvaY1so2uGNPV4ENFQnXL5hn7kAG8A732we_GhvmOou1UALrVGxKHpSLkNBPedzrqm3pg-Ktv0ZSWsEEDL6KcCfxh3JeBQlgS7RiRFNSWz8og4UFe50K=w190-h200" width="190" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">As things change with
the colors of autumn our lives change as well, we leave our school years behind us and
look forward to all the possibilities life has to offer. Our adult years are filled with both
achievements and failures. My first marriage was one of those failures, ending
after six short months. It was a year later that I met my husband; he was
drafted in the Army during the Vietnam War and stationed in Germany; we were
married shortly after basic training. I went with his mom and dad to his
graduation, but on the return trip home his dad had a cerebral hemorrhage and
was taken off life support on what was to be our wedding day. We were married
two months later. I will never forget the day after I took him to the airport
to leave for Germany; I had gone to my mother-in-laws, a wonderful woman I came
to love dearly to my mother-in-laws, we were standing just inside the living
room watching my son just standing by papas chair staring, then we heard him
say, “Papa gone, daddy gone, Kcotty all alone.” Mom and I just stood there in
silence with tears streaming down our faces. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> The first two years we were together just over
two months. Our first three years of marriage got off on a rocky start with
being separated and with three miscarriages and the unbearable news that I
would never be able to have another child. Like most marriages we had our share
of up’s and down’s, but we both had been married before that hadn’t ended well,
and I was going to honor the vowel I made before God to remain together in sickness and in health,
for better or worse; we celebrated our 50th anniversary this past spring. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I was in my
mid-twenties that I had to have emergency surgery for a ruptured ovarian cyst
that I saw a glimpse of my dad I had never seen before. When the doctors opened
me up they were surprised to find their assessment of the damaged caused by the
rupture was under estimated, and I was drowning in my own blood and went into
shock. The next day when I woke up my dad was standing at the end of my bed
with a tender look on his face. When he came to sit by the bed he handed me a
small box and told me he had gotten me something; when I opened it there was a
floral ring inside. There was only one other time he allowed me see this side
of him.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I was the city girl
that married the country boy, but in trying to make me happy we lived in the
city, until one day, he came home from work to find I had packed up the house
and announced we were moving to the country. We had the strangest conversation
after that when he realized we had nowhere to move to. It took the rest of
summer before to found a place, when I was given the keys, I went out to get
the house ready and every day for the next week I was taking things out to be
put away. I even visualized where the furniture would be placed and then hung
my pictures accordingly. On moving day all I had to do was make the beds and
put away the groceries within two hours I was fixing supper in our new country
home. We had a large garden and I learned
to put up produce for winter. The boys would tell their friends if mom didn’t
grow it, and dad didn’t hunt it, we didn’t eat it. And you know I learned I was
a country girl at heart after all. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">We continue to have
some rough years and I spent a lot of time alone while he was off hunting or
fishing, we stopped camping after moving to the country and taking family
vacations, I felt like everything he wanted to do was more important to him
than I was. The hardest time for me was when we stopped celebrating our
anniversary because he always went on a fishing trip. I remember on our 25th
anniversary I thought he would stay home, but I was wrong, then the florist
delivered this beautiful arrangement, and it brightened my spirits, until I learned
he had forgotten and called my son to take care of it for him. Maybe I was
wrong, but I was so hurt I couldn’t stand to look at them after that. When the
time came I wasn’t there to welcome him home and when I did come home the house
remained quiet; I knew if I opened my mouth I would regret what came out of it.
It took a while before I remembered the promise the Lord told me that our
latter days would be greater than the first. “’The glory of this present house
will be greater than the glory of the former house’, says the LORD Almighty. ‘And
in this place I will grant peace’, declares the LORD Almighty” (Haggai 2:9
NIV). Eight Years ago we moved to the lake house and His promise came true. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Early in my Christian
walk the Lord put within my heart a love for a people I did not know and a land
I had never seen, the Jewish people and the land of Israel. I studied
everything I could about their custom and traditions; and the ancient land of
the Bible. The feasts of the Lord were of particular interest to me, especially
the Passover. I began to put together a Haggadah, a program the Jewish people
use in the celebration of Passover, by complying scriptures that followed their
traditions and blending in commentary that explained their customs. The
following Easter my church was the first to have a Passover and I held one in
my home as well. For two years I traveled all around the state in churches,
Bible studies and homes putting on Passovers. One in particular I will never
forget, it was for the women’s group of our local Presbyterian Church. One of
the ladies was crying every time I looked her way. After the services she asked
to speak with me, her story touched my heart and I knew if no one else was ever
reached by the services it was worth everything to me that she had been. Her
story took me back to 1922 in Nazi Germany when she was a member of the Hitler
Youth movement; all these years she carried the shame of what she had been and
done under the absolute obedience to Hitler and the Nazi party. She told me for
the first time she knew the Lord had forgiven her and that she finely felt in
her heart she was clean. When I close my eyes I can still see her face and the
peace that came over her.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p>
</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">There is a scripture
that came to me when I realized what the Lord was doing through these service’s
that just couldn’t be explained, it is in 1 Corinthians 1:27, “But God chose
the foolish things of the world to shame the wise; God chose the weak things of
the world to shame the strong. He chose the lowly things of this world and the
despised things--and that are not--to nullify the things that are, so that no
one may boast before him” (NIV). God had
chosen me, the one who everyone saw dumb, worthless and would never amount to
anything to reveal His love through and to shine His light through. My first
book, A Christian Observance of Passover, the Haggadah, was published in 1997
by Joy Publishing. The first book was sold to an evangelist that was on her way
back to Israel and would be celebrating Passover, with a gathering of Jews and
Christians, using my book. </span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>BeverlyJeffershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10901007309868454859noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479680054284924357.post-53994015004121049832022-01-07T08:00:00.001-05:002022-01-07T08:00:00.162-05:00For Everything There is a Season (Day 3 from an untitled collection)<p style="text-align: center;"> </p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEha6Bk8ANRjW_ggl7ZO0AXxYOYyMdqibrC928b3B8J8lTAXp-JFhn73JAHG1MImBgsNM7HBbZzC_hF0stVbvBgPoyryl0__M2fqoeau31PV2bZSkWCGJ4NKTWVZ_6OVvIiCG8ER6KV7Qt2pNZnouTPpoUl5Se8P3QcG_Kpb8p6EUZAfaON1XFI3zhns=s1484" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1484" data-original-width="1164" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEha6Bk8ANRjW_ggl7ZO0AXxYOYyMdqibrC928b3B8J8lTAXp-JFhn73JAHG1MImBgsNM7HBbZzC_hF0stVbvBgPoyryl0__M2fqoeau31PV2bZSkWCGJ4NKTWVZ_6OVvIiCG8ER6KV7Qt2pNZnouTPpoUl5Se8P3QcG_Kpb8p6EUZAfaON1XFI3zhns=w157-h200" width="157" /></a></div><br /><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>Just as summer follows spring the cycle of our lives
continues. Summer is the symbol of growth and the search for self-acceptance
and our personal identity; it stands for our youth, that formative time when we
enter the school years.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">The first day of school
arrived and when the bus pulled up and the doors opened I couldn’t reach the
steps, I was too short, mom told me the bus driver would get off the bus to pick
me up and put me on the front seat right behind him. My entire first year of
school centered on how short I was. There was a set of twins that were small
too, the teacher had told the class not to play with us because there was
something wrong with us; she had contacted the principal to have us removed
because of our size. Mom took had to take me in for tests to determine if there was nothing
wrong. Mom never told me how long I was out of school only
that it was determined I was healthy and could return to school. However, the
damage was already done; I was not accepted by my classmates. The remaining
three years I went to that school things never changed. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Most of what I shared
with you was told to me by my mom many years later because I have only
flashbacks and small-time periods of memories of those early years. It wasn’t
until in the fourth grade that my memories became clear. I don’t know exactly
when it started</span><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">, </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">but
I do remember why I developed an Excoriation disorder, a chronic skin-picking
compelled to remove perceived imperfections, in other words, I wanted to get the
ugliness I felt off. I believed everyone saw the bruises I tried to cover up. I
was such an introvert I didn’t make friends easily and I believed when I walked
into a room everyone saw the ugliness I felt, and if someone laughed I knew
they were laughing at me. If only I would have known God’s message then, “Do
not be afraid; you will not suffer shame, do not fear disgrace; you will not be
humiliated . . .” (Isaiah 54:4 NIV). <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">Dad was transferred to
Indiana when I was in the fourth grade so we attended three different schools
in that year. By this time it became apparent that I had extreme difficulty
with math and reading; I would fixate on the number 5 and couldn’t sound out
words. After entering the third school that year I brought home an unfavorable
report card and was severely disciplined. I went to school the next morning
wearing tights to hide the bruises on the back of my legs. Six weeks passed and
I got another report card, though my grades did come up slightly, it was still
unsatisfactory, however, the outcome was still the same. I still fixated on 5’s
and couldn’t sound out the words, and the disciple continued, only this time I
had learned a not so valuable lesson, I was never going to be good enough. At
the end of the year, my parents got the word I was being held back and it was
made clear that I was an embracement to my dad.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> As the years went on my grades remained in the
lower percent of my class. In high school I remember sitting in my world
history class, the teacher always went around the room and had us read out loud,
one particular day when it was my turn to read he interrupted me by saying every
other word. It didn’t take long until I had had enough and shoved my book
forward hitting the chair in front of me, and the next thing I knew I was telling
him he was doing such a good job he
could finish it himself! Needless to say, I was escorted to the principal’s
office. I was terrified because I knew what I was in-fore when I got home, but
one of my classmates came into the office and stood up for me. I don't remember what grade I was in but I had won 2nd place in the Science Fair, my parents never came and when I got him and showed them my ribbon my dad was not happy for me but told me I was an embarrassment because if I would have tried harder I could have gotten 1st place. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p>
</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I was seventeen when I
finely spoke up to my dad; I had been working for a neighbor getting his ponies
ready for the fair. It was hot and when I got home I went to get a drink of
water, dad came busting in the kitchen and knocked the glass out of my hand yelling
that I was too hot to drink it. When he grabbed my arm I knew what was coming
next and before I could stop myself I yelled at him telling him that he wasn’t
my father and he wasn’t going to hit me ever again! Our relationship began to
change after that, oh we still had our differences, but I wasn’t afraid of him
anymore. All I ever wanted was for him to tell me he loved me, I was fifty
years old when he died and I never heard those three little words. God tells us
that love “always protects, always trust, always hopes, always perseveres. Love
never fails . . .” (1 Corinthians 13:7-8 NIV).
Maybe if my dad was shown love as a child he would have been able to
give love. Maybe if my mom would have protected me I wouldn’t have felt so
alone. If only the sexual abuse hadn't happened I would have been able to trust.
If I would have felt like someone cared about me I would have been able to hold
on to the hope that things would get better. In spite of everything I
persevered and as an adult I was always there for my parents and in the end, I
was able to tell my dad I loved him and told my mom my secret. The word of God
tells us that, “Blessed is the man who perseveres under trial because when he
has stood the test, he will receive the crown of life that God has promised to
those who love him” (James 1:12 NIV).<o:p></o:p></span></p>BeverlyJeffershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10901007309868454859noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479680054284924357.post-41386855859381744342022-01-05T08:00:00.001-05:002022-01-05T08:00:00.159-05:00For Everything There is a Season (Day 2 from an untitled collection)<p style="text-align: center;"> </p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhgtS4Nw7efsVXlgiC5sLIgwpQ-5t-m8ee7QDm4Cbh_-VSVYj48dyQnkO0z3aHxD2hbbasDngucaap-ofIKHCCOI09FlNHzosKTl3A-iw0QH9cLnFKQZx2K5GGdEpsDErzMLItKTexOMwQs4MRbsuhbaf55i8mEcUYGkVVVgMXEimLPNBQmrvyMypf7=s2455" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2455" data-original-width="1822" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhgtS4Nw7efsVXlgiC5sLIgwpQ-5t-m8ee7QDm4Cbh_-VSVYj48dyQnkO0z3aHxD2hbbasDngucaap-ofIKHCCOI09FlNHzosKTl3A-iw0QH9cLnFKQZx2K5GGdEpsDErzMLItKTexOMwQs4MRbsuhbaf55i8mEcUYGkVVVgMXEimLPNBQmrvyMypf7=w148-h200" width="148" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="text-indent: 0.5in;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">Spring is the symbol of
hope and new beginnings; it represents a time from birth through our preschool
years. I was born at 32 weeks on August 1, 1948; I had black hair, blue eyes,
and dimples just like my father; however, I got my height from my mom who was just
4 feet 11 inches tall. </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">Being a preemie when
I was born; my mother told me I fit in a shoebox, and my first bed was a
dresser drawer heated by a light bulb. Just like my heavenly Father, my parents
had a dream of what I might become. However, my heavenly Father, who is
all-knowing, knew what my life would be</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">“’ For I know the plans I have for you,’ declares the Lord, ‘plans to
prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Then you
will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will
seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart. I will be found by
you,’ declares the Lord, ‘and will bring you back from captivity . . .’”
(Jeremiah 29:11-14</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">NIV). Just after my
third birthday my father, who suffered from paranoid schizophrenia, and
manic-depressive disorder, committed subside. And in that same year, I found my
first love, a man who came through our neighborhood to take pictures of the kids on
his pony, he dressed us up like cowgirls and when I was put on the saddle a
love was born and has never left me. My mother told me I would run off whenever
he was in the neighborhood, so to keep me safe she would tie a rope around my
waist and clip the other end to the clothesline.</span></div>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">My mother remarried
when I was five, my dad was in the Air Force and stationed in Texas, so we
moved away from the only family I had ever known. It was also the year my life
changed forever due to sexual abuse by an airman that was our babysitter. I
only say this because my parents never knew and it created problems they did
not understand. God laid out in
Ephesians 6:1-4 His plan for the family, “Children, obey <i>your</i> parents in the LORD [as His representative], for this is just
and right. Honor (esteem and value as precious) your father and your mother---this
is the first commandment with a promise---that all may be well with you and
that you may live long on the earth. Fathers do not irritate <i>and</i> provoke your children to anger [do
not exasperate them to resentment] but rear them [tenderly] in the training <i>and</i> discipline and the counsel and
admiration of the Lord,” My dad’s mother died when he was a young boy and not
long after that his dad abandoned him, as a result, he locked his emotions deep
inside. Then when he joined the military all he knew was hard discipline, so
that’s how he raised us. The one thing he did not tolerate was weakness; after
the sexual abuse I became introverted and he saw that as weakness. When he felt
I needed to be disciplined it was hard and physical, the madder he got the
harder the spanking became, the next morning the bruises were evident. More
often than not a negative past determines our future actions that why the Word
of God tells us; “. . . Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and
slow to become angry, for man’s anger does not bring about the righteous life
that God desires” (James 1:19).<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">As I got older I
learned not to show emotion, it only seemed to anger him more, and then as he
put it, he would give me something to cry about. I don’t know how many times he
told me he would teach me to respect him, I never did; all I learned was fear. What
I didn’t know was that “[God was a] father to the fatherless” (Psalm 68:5)
defending the powerless. From the time my father died, He stepped into our
lives and never left us.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">It seemed my dad was always angry so when he was around I would hide in the bedroom in the closet or on the other side of the bed in the corner. When things got really bad I would make believe I was someone else, her name was Barbara. Barbara wasn't afraid of anything so I learned to hide behind her when I couldn't get to my room. But even then there were times dad's anger came out unexpected and I couldn't get away and it always ended up with a spanking; at first, it was with his hand but later he used his belt. I was an adult when my mother told me when they were first married I could talk him into anything by wrapping my arms around his leg and just looking up at him and smiling; all I had to say was please and it was done. But because they didn't know what had happened and why suddenly I seemed to be withdrawn that everything changed. She also told me when I was born my father had changed my name from Barbara to Beverly after a friend. Years later when I learned of dad's childhood I wondered he my withdraw had made him feel as rejected as I had all those years.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> Proverbs
22:6 gives parents the responsibility to train their children in a Godly home,
“Train a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not depart
from it;” this responsibility however fell to our grandmother. Every year we
made the long journey home and while we were there we spent most of our time
with her and our aunts and uncles on our fathers’ side. To this day I can
remember grandma’s felt-board lessons in Sunday school. When she put us to bed
I could hear her praying until I would fell to sleep. Everything thing about
her was a lesson about the God she loved with all her heart. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> My
childhood wasn’t all bad there were times I could forget, but they always
seemed to involve a horse of one kind or another. There was a friend of the family
that had taken a special fondness for me and my love for horses that he gave me
first pair of cowboy boots. My feet were so small that they had to be specially made. Oh how I loved those boots, my mother told me I never wanted to take them off,
not even for bed. One day we went to have our pictures taken on broncos, I was the
happiest child on earth. Then there were the times we visited my grandfather
who had a pony and would let me ride it around the barnyard. I would do chores
around the house to earn money, and when I had saved enough I would buy a
figurine of a horse; I had quite the collection. Many years later I gave that collection to a little girl in my sons' fourth-grade class that had that unmistakable love for horses as well.<o:p></o:p></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p>BeverlyJeffershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10901007309868454859noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479680054284924357.post-73742685128160712672022-01-03T08:00:00.001-05:002022-01-03T08:00:00.150-05:00For Everything There is a Season (Day 1 from an untitled collection)<p style="text-align: center;"> </p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjtfnbS9S5vlnGIMFd1BDDlcaGUh25qZCsutXtKq8vd-SvjaOYijShTOnfdDAZoWWfekGuQmxg4WRbm520M_pdeQBr3xm6mQhPaYz2I4I5lMg_pzCHEslkrwiMyDOVSc8kJfwZ8PB3FzypyGrzHZzOLjR6WCoAMwcgWi1RSWFJGLqIJg3d7mLZ6oQfc=s2321" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2321" data-original-width="2123" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjtfnbS9S5vlnGIMFd1BDDlcaGUh25qZCsutXtKq8vd-SvjaOYijShTOnfdDAZoWWfekGuQmxg4WRbm520M_pdeQBr3xm6mQhPaYz2I4I5lMg_pzCHEslkrwiMyDOVSc8kJfwZ8PB3FzypyGrzHZzOLjR6WCoAMwcgWi1RSWFJGLqIJg3d7mLZ6oQfc=w183-h200" width="183" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 14pt;"> </span></div>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; text-align: left;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; text-align: left;">I’ve
reached a time in my life when I’m faced with so many changes taking place and
decisions that have to be made, that I feel overwhelmed. Every day has been a
challenge. The last few days, since the weather has turned cold, I go to bed
hurting and get up the same. I have to give up things I love to do because my
body tells me I can’t do them anymore. I look in the mirror and don’t recognize
the woman looking back at me. There are more years behind me than those yet to
come. Sometimes I feel as though all I have is memories as I say goodbye to yet
another loved one. My name is Old Age, but my heart is still young. If you have
not been there yet don’t worry your day will come. Your heavenly Father
confirmed this in Genesis 8:22, “As long as the earth endures seedtime and
harvest, cold and heat, summer and winter, day and night, will never cease”
(NIV). </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; text-align: left;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; font-size: 12pt; text-align: left;">Just as God provided for the
seasons of the earth, He has set seasons for the days of our lives.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> I’m
not talking about an emotional season, yet I do believe they exist. In Ecclesiastes
we are told, “There is a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a
time to dance” (3:4 NIV), When Jacob
died, Joseph “observed a seven day period of mourning for his father” (Genesis
50:10). Nor, am I talking about a period
of hard times, for Jesus told us, “In this world, you will have trouble, but
take heart! I have overcome the world” (John 16:33 NIV). Our earthly life is subject to everything
from illness to heartbreak until God calls us home. It’s the time in-between
that I am talking about, for you see our life span has already been sovereignly
determined by God before we were born; “All the days ordained for me were
written in your book before one of them came to be” (Psalm 139:16 NIV). <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> <br />
I believe life begins at
conception, why else would King David in prayer for God to search his heart
would say, “For you created my inmost being you knit me together in my mother’s
womb . . . I am fearfully and wonderfully made . . . My frame was not hidden
from you when I was made in the secret place. When I was woven together in the
depths of the earth your eyes saw my unformed body . . .” (Psalm 139: 13-16
NIV). King David was acknowledging to God that He had created him in his
mother’s womb and that he knew him even then. When I was pregnant for my son I
dreamed of what he would become, but I did not KNOW him, but God did, He knew
everything about him. What is the most amazing and wonderful part is that while
God was forming him my baby was getting to know me! At 24 weeks he could hear
my heartbeat, my breathing, and could hear the blood flow moving through the
umbilical cord. And around 25-26 weeks he was responding to my voice with an
increased heart rate. Like all expecting moms without even realizing it I would
gently stroke my stomach and my baby would respond by moving. By the time I was
in my third trimester he was kicking things off my stomach, even then he was
terribly active. As my baby continued to grow I became more concerned, you see
my husband had walked out on me right after I told him we were going to have a
child. I became despondent and cried a great deal of the time, my doctor was
concerned and put me on an antidepressant, as soon as I was able to understand
what they could do to my baby I immediately stopped taking them. It was then
that I learned that my baby was able to feel my emotions by chemical
signals through the placenta, the medication could have an effect on how my
baby was developing and my depression could cause problems in his development
after he was born! I had a long talk with my doctor and he gave me some things
to do to get control of my emotions, the last thing I ever wanted to do was
harm my baby. I will never forget the
day he was born, I was alone in the labor room, as my parents waited in the
room down the hall. The nurse had just come in to tell me they were doing fine
and that in spite of my dad telling her he was fine he was reading his magazine
upside down and that my mother had wanted to come back to be with me but it was
against the rules; then she told me it would take a while and I needed to
relax. I can remember feeling, just as I had been throughout my pregnancy, so
alone. The nurses were preparing for a premature birth; the doctor said I was in my 38th week, so there was an incubator being set up in the delivery room. My time was cut short for as she was leaving
the room my water broke. I was only in labor for about an hour until they rushed
me to the delivery room and called the doctor. “A woman giving birth to a child has pain because
her time has come, but when her baby is born she forgets the anguish because of
her joy that a child is born into the world” (John 16:21 NIV). My son was born
at 19 ½ inches long, weighed 6 pounds 7 ½ ounces, and was perfectly healthy. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">I wasn’t walking with
the Lord at that time but I came to realize how much He had been protecting us.
My Grandmother shared a scripture with me that she had prayed over my sister
and me since our father died, Psalm 121:7-8, “The LORD will keep you from all harm he will watch over your life; the LORD will watch over your coming and
going both now and forever” (NIV). She
told me God would not give me more than I could handle and that everything I
was going through has a purpose. To be honest with you I couldn’t see a purpose
in my husband abandoning us could possibly have, but I loved my grandmother and
I trusted her, therefore I believed her. Years later after I began my walk with
the Lord He lead me to Romans 5:3-6, “. . . We also rejoice in our suffering
because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character;
and character, hope. And hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured
out his love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom he has given us. You see,
at the right time, when we were still powerless, Christ died for the ungodly”
(NIV). As I said before this is a story
about the seasons of our life, and our life begins at conception, for that reason
God wanted to leave you with no doubt; that’s why I have shared the most private
time of my life. <o:p></o:p></span></p><br /><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p>BeverlyJeffershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10901007309868454859noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479680054284924357.post-77976158778579219012021-12-20T08:00:00.003-05:002022-12-20T16:35:19.287-05:00Finding Christ in Christmas (from a Holliday Collection)<p style="text-align: center;"> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgw10Oa-uPtqxvaYzi6RokNhPckl52cdi-ZdZIj6fP8h-oe1FxBN8ZXCnTokesejF0lN1ic4G3ZqEl7NZhuYcK3r06-SfeAiuo5DiqxGzh-KUabW0P1F3UEmNlupfUysLvJL3fYNePO1_MhxDcjfjXGPaHlzotJz4ysr7hf6wO3Nq7IoddZihbtEY2P=s769" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="769" data-original-width="544" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgw10Oa-uPtqxvaYzi6RokNhPckl52cdi-ZdZIj6fP8h-oe1FxBN8ZXCnTokesejF0lN1ic4G3ZqEl7NZhuYcK3r06-SfeAiuo5DiqxGzh-KUabW0P1F3UEmNlupfUysLvJL3fYNePO1_MhxDcjfjXGPaHlzotJz4ysr7hf6wO3Nq7IoddZihbtEY2P=w141-h200" width="141" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif"; text-align: center;"> </span><span style="font-family: inherit; text-align: center;">Finding Christ in Christmas</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> It’s time to gather around as I
share Finding the Christ in Christmas with all my family and friends. It began
deep within the woods many years ago when grandpa took me to help find the
perfect Christmas tree. After looking everywhere, grandpa, with a big smile on
his face, pointed to the tree saying, “There he is, we found our tree!” I was
so excited that I
let go of his hand and ran to the biggest tree I had ever seen, and turned to
him, “Oh grandpa, its beautiful!” But to my surprise, he told me, “No child,
it’s not that tree,” as he stood beside a very small one, “Come and help me dig
our tree.” After we got the tree dug grandpa wrapped the dirt around the roots
in a cloth and we started for home.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> Every year we visited the trees
along the back of the yard and he told me their story; the trees were for each
one of his grandchildren and when we got to mine he told me; “This tree was
little when we brought it here and it represents Jesus that came to the world
as a baby and just as we wrapped it roots in cloth His mother wrapped Him and
laid Him in a manger.” Every year grandpa added a bit more to the story until
one day when grandpa came to deliver our beautiful tree for our family
Christmas and told me this was the tree we had dug in the woods years ago and
that now it was up to me to share the story with my family.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> That night we gathered together to
decorate the tree and I began to tell them the special story of how I found
Christ in our Christmas tree. So I began
to tell our boys why this was such a special tree and how grandpa and I found it years ago in the woods when it was very small.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> The evergreen tree represents
eternal life for it is unchanging through the seasons, and how God’s word says,
“For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whoever
believes in Him should not perish but have eternal life” (John 3:16 NKJV). As the branches fan out their shape looks
like angel wings and speak of the angel that proclaimed His birth, “. . . Do
not be afraid, for behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy which shall be
to all people. For there is born to you this day in the city of David a Savior
who is Christ the Lord. And this will be a sign to you: You will find a Babe
wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger” (Luke 2:11-12 NKJV). <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> As the lights were placed around the
tree and then checked to make sure all were working as I shared that Jesus said
in John 8:12, “I am the light of the world. He who follows me will never walk
in darkness, but have the light of life” (NKJV). The boy's faces lit up with excitement as
they heard the story.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> As we began to wrap the garland
around the tree I explained that the Bible tells us that God holds us in His arms
just like the garland is holding our tree, “For I, the Lord your God, will hold
your right hand, Saying to you,’ Fear not, I will help you” (Isaiah 41:13
NKJV). <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">When
it came time to put the ornaments on the tree we handed each one of the boys a
Christmas bulb to hang on the tree and as we continued to decorate I shared
with them that the bulbs were a never-ending circle the symbol of eternity and
how Jesus shows us the way to have eternal life, “I am the way, the truth, and
the life. No one comes to the Father except through Me” (John 14:6 NKJV).<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> When we were finished the boys looked to their
daddy to lift one of them up in his arms to help him put the star on the top,
but before I could tell them they both asked, ‘Mommy what does the star mean?’
It’s the Star of Bethlehem that marked the birthplace of Jesus and the Bible
tells, “That Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea in the days of Herod the
king, behold wise men from the East came to Jerusalem, saying ‘Where is He who
has been born King of the Jews? For we have seen His star in the East and have
come to worship Him” (Matthew 2:1-2 NKJV).
However it wasn’t until Jesus was about two years old before they
arrived, as I explained to them, that’s why mommy doesn’t put them in the
nativity but in a display of their own.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">We
all stood back and looked at our beautiful Christ tree but I told the boys we
weren’t done yet and handed each one a gift that was to be placed under the
tree and asked them separately what the tag said that was on their package. The
first one was wrapped all in red with a big gold bow and written on the tag was
LOVE, and daddy opened the tag and read, “. . . God is love, and he who abides
in love abides in God, and God in him” (1 John 4:16 NKJV). The next package was wrapped all in white and
had a beautiful green bow and our youngest son took it to his daddy ‘Its PEACE’
he said, and then the tag was read, “. . . I have spoken to you, that in Me you may
have peace. In the world you will tribulation, but be of good cheer, I have
overcome the world” (John 16:33 NKJV). Each of the boys was given another package,
and again it was taken to their daddy, this one was wrapped in a soft blue and had a deeper shade
of blue for the bow and the tag had JOY
written on it was, “. . . Count it all joy when you fall into various trials,
knowing that the testing of your faith produces patience” (James 1:2
NKJV). The last package to be placed
under the tree was purple and the bow was made of each color from the other
packages and on the tag was written FAITH, and then the tag was read, “Without faith, it
is impossible to please Him, for he who comes to God must believe that He is and that He is a rewarder of those who diligently seek Him” (Hebrews 11:6
NKJV).<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The
boys were looking up at the tree in wonder when our oldest spoke, breaking the
silence, saying, “Mom can we keep it after Christmas.” Then our youngest added,
“Can we mom, can we please.” I looked down on their sweet faces, so proud at
that moment, and explained how our Christ tree would be saved. They listened
intently as I told them that after it was taken down all the branches would be removed
and at Easter the trunk would be made into a cross in remembrance of Jesus’
death. “Being found in appearance as a man, He humbled Himself and became
obedient to <i>the point of</i> death, even
the death of the cross” (Philippians 2:8 NKJV). <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> So you see in spite of all the distractions
around Christmas if your heart is open you can still find Christ in
Christmas. Both of the boys wanted to hear the rest of the story, but it was
getting late, so they were told we would finish the story at Easter, after all, there
is more to the story than bunnies and baskets. </span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>BeverlyJeffershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10901007309868454859noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479680054284924357.post-5770369573421585392021-11-05T08:00:00.137-04:002021-11-05T08:00:00.147-04:00Why I Write (Day 2 from, an Untitled Collection)<p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: center;"> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgkgEkgt7GW9Bc-T1oL_5-LjtWuCMUpP88j7yFH7P4YnnkYKIXkuuWOPDcWUXda5_vGZS1I8-3dDiFepC8dsWxobR_sRS4muK9_W05ko34CM34PXHkyGb2Olz3bUN_QdcyaY3KxA_Q5S848FhiVJ8GqfKxO17rB3KEaYIkiuF9H7mNGM9iMIhJ5SbPj=s536" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="384" data-original-width="536" height="143" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgkgEkgt7GW9Bc-T1oL_5-LjtWuCMUpP88j7yFH7P4YnnkYKIXkuuWOPDcWUXda5_vGZS1I8-3dDiFepC8dsWxobR_sRS4muK9_W05ko34CM34PXHkyGb2Olz3bUN_QdcyaY3KxA_Q5S848FhiVJ8GqfKxO17rB3KEaYIkiuF9H7mNGM9iMIhJ5SbPj=w200-h143" width="200" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif";"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif";"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", "serif";"> </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">One of my
favorite scriptures is found in Isaiah 61:3 it’s about Jesus’
ministry of salvation by giving to us, “Beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for
mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness.” You see our past
does not define us. I am no longer a victim, nor am I a survivor; I am an
overcomer by the blood of the Lamb and the word of my testimony (Revelation
12:11). Isaiah goes on the say why Jesus
does this for us, “That they may be called trees of righteousness the
planting of the Lord, that He may be glorified” (NKJV). Let’s continue in chapter 61:7, “Instead of
your shame you shall have double honor, and instead of confusion they shall rejoice
in their portion. Therefore in their land they shall possess double; everlasting
joy shall be theirs” (NKJV). <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> I would like to share something with
you that has stuck with me for years, I was at a Woman’s Aglow Conference when
the speaker said something that was life-changing for me, “Make God’s word
personal to you.” Our exercise was to
take a scripture and insert our name into it. I admit it was hard at first but
when I did it made all the difference in how<b> I</b> <b>received</b> from Him. In
doing this the scriptures I just shared with you would read: <i>To [insert your name], I will give beauty for ashes, the
oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for her spirit of heaviness. That [insert your name] may be called a tree of righteousness, the planting of the Lord, that
He may be glorified. Instead of [insert your name] shame, [I] shall have double honor,
and instead of [my]confusion, [I] shall rejoice in [my] portion. Therefore in [insert your name] land, [I] shall possess double; everlasting joy shall be [mine]. </i>God's word is His love letter to you, in it He gives you instruction, teaches you His ways, and prepares you for your future.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">I had been tossed around
by what others did to me or said about me. When I learned who I was in Christ
nothing else mattered, not what someone did or said because </span><b style="font-family: inherit;">I know who I am in Christ.</b><span style="font-family: inherit;"> Like a tree, my roots were grounded in His word and when the winds came, and believe me they
did, I stood firm because I wanted to glorify my heavenly Father.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p><p>
</p><p class="MsoNormal"><span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>BeverlyJeffershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10901007309868454859noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479680054284924357.post-83710685007649899322021-11-03T08:00:00.027-04:002021-11-03T08:00:00.151-04:00Why I Write (Day 1 from, An Untitled Collection)<p style="text-align: center;"> </p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEipeKfHE3u8q6XA64HpwnqqqmK_68_cGBhiNVtaeUMQYwHmwy3x52pRF9Tcg8QAfZDLyHqLfSPIfPj0_amdY63cUT66GGAiH5FowFEdE80e6LEkq0bmWgg3CAyYNrNhFoGyrx8vid9-ASdcAZ2n3fAeWbK6Eal9bNjXutvAxNTMCZpY8QUVsuTMT-Kf=s570" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="371" data-original-width="570" height="130" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEipeKfHE3u8q6XA64HpwnqqqmK_68_cGBhiNVtaeUMQYwHmwy3x52pRF9Tcg8QAfZDLyHqLfSPIfPj0_amdY63cUT66GGAiH5FowFEdE80e6LEkq0bmWgg3CAyYNrNhFoGyrx8vid9-ASdcAZ2n3fAeWbK6Eal9bNjXutvAxNTMCZpY8QUVsuTMT-Kf=w200-h130" width="200" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><!--[endif]--><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> <span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: inherit;">MY
SISTER ASKED ME if I believed I was called to write; when I think of God
placing a calling on someone’s life I think of someone in the ministry such as
a Pastor, Evangelist, or Missionary, so I would have to say, no I don’t. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I was talking with my publisher she told
me not every book is a best seller; do I think mine ever will be, again, no I
don’t, but that’s not why I write. However, I do believe God has given me a gift
to write because you see without him I would have never been able to read, let
alone write. I graduated from high school with about a third-grade reading
level. When I was in the fourth grade my teacher learned I didn’t have the
ability to sound out words and I couldn’t identify isolated words. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It wasn’t until I was an adult that I learned
I have visual dyslexia, as a side effect of abuse. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I say the Lord taught me how to read because
he provided Bible tapes to listen to as I read my Bible.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He sent books my way, many through my sister,
to introduce me to reading. Was it easy, no, but I wanted to learn so I stuck
with it. When I first started to write I would get so frustrated because I
couldn’t spell the words I wanted to use, and the dictionary was of no help because it was an isolated word; I had to read the definitions to find the
right word. One day it took me eight hours to find a single word I wanted to use in a story, but it got easier over time and God brought in the materials I needed.
I thought I had died and gone to heaven when I got my first computer and found
spell and grammar check, although it still gives me fits at times, just ask my
editor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was home alone when I started
writing, that’s why I say God taught me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I would read each story out loud to Him and He guided me through them,
it’s hard to explain how, but when I was reading it was like my spiritual ears
were opened and I knew when I needed to make changes. I still had to do a lot
of research and dig deeper in the Word to find the scriptures but I would know
instantly when I had. I began to get titles for stories or story ideas
sometimes a whole paragraph, then the Lord would help me develop it into a
complete story.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know this seems hard
to believe, but as God is my witness it's true.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>There is a song called Something
Beautiful, the chorus goes like this; “Something beautiful, something good all
my confusion He understood. All I had to offer Him was brokenness and strife,
but He made something beautiful out of my life.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>From the first time I heard it I knew it
defined what the Lord had done for me. So when I started writing it became my
purpose to help others know that the past does not define who they are or their
value in life. If one of my stories touches just one person and sets them on the
road to a better understanding of themselves, all I went through was worth it. If
one story opens someone’s eyes to the love God has for them, then my brokenness
had a purpose. If someone's heart is touched to turn to the Lord, then all those
years of surviving were worth it. If someone finds healing for a broken spirit,
then all the loneness, pain, and sorrow I would go through again, just to see
them set free. I not trying to be melodramatic, I honestly mean what I’m
saying. God loves you that much and all I want from the life He has given me is
to be used of Him. As the chorus of the song says I had nothing to offer Him
but brokenness and strife but He had a purpose for everything I had been through,
and my writing fills that purpose. </span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>BeverlyJeffershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10901007309868454859noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479680054284924357.post-36226469697747044602021-11-01T08:00:00.011-04:002021-11-01T08:00:00.137-04:00The Rose (Day 4 from Cleansing Thoughts) <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEioyjmunyelrNtvSjLYVX4nu07bN1zBVzb6ZX8Anwb6a8bUbUuNQ6gKVsAVPvGxCErUrh8dBPTre7pizci0I7av9F9F0DILpWJtzKdxNq5fqSy-1tiwGH71zHS1Z0SXJhTF96GvrSY6lrMVKtG95FIRW9cG6QOQ4xc-w6hdj8vkKN86F1fCOaDieLnf=s2962" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2687" data-original-width="2962" height="181" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEioyjmunyelrNtvSjLYVX4nu07bN1zBVzb6ZX8Anwb6a8bUbUuNQ6gKVsAVPvGxCErUrh8dBPTre7pizci0I7av9F9F0DILpWJtzKdxNq5fqSy-1tiwGH71zHS1Z0SXJhTF96GvrSY6lrMVKtG95FIRW9cG6QOQ4xc-w6hdj8vkKN86F1fCOaDieLnf=w200-h181" width="200" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /><div><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>What a truly delightful day I had shared with the Lord and the memories of all my loved ones who are now with Him. I felt such peace knowing one day I would be with them again, but for now, I had my roses. As I stood there amazed at all the Lord had shared with me, one last rose took my eye. It was the John F. Kennedy. The bush was in full bloom, from the tiniest bud to fully opened roes. A verse from the book of Revelation came flowing from my lips, "Let us be glad and rejoice, and give honor to him: for the marriage of the Lamb has come, and his wife has made herself ready. And to her was granted that she should be arrayed in fine linen, clean and white: for the fine linen is the righteousness of the saints." (Revelation 19:7-8, KJV). How fitting this scripture should come to mind. You see, the Kennedy is a pure white rose, and I had seen my loved ones dressed in fine linen made from the rose petals of my garden.</div><div><div> </div><div> I have heard many say that God does not speak today as He did to the prophets of old, but my friend, I would say to you, He does to all of those who will listen. It is in the simple things in our everyday life that He reveals Himself to us. In my rose garden, He spoke of the symbol of life in such a profound way that I will always cherish the memories of that day. I know that God is the giver of life and that death has lost its sting because He gave His only begotten Son that we might have eternal life with Him. Jesus said, "I am the resurrection and the life: And whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never die" (John 5:24, KJV). I spent the day with my loved ones and seen the beauty of each of their lives, and my spirit was alive with the wonder of it all.</div><div><br /></div><div> All of us have lost loved ones and experienced feelings of abandonment and grief at the time of their passing. Many times, we wonder how we can go on with our lives without them. In the book of John, Jesus and the disciples touched on this very topic when He told them that He would be leaving and that they would not be able to follow him. But our loving Heavenly Father did not leave them without hope for Jesus said, "Let not your heart be troubled: ye believe in God, believe also in me. In my Father's house are many mansions: if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again, and receive you unto myself; that where I am, there ye may be also" (John 14:1-3, KJV).</div><div><br /></div><div> I cannot answer the question as to why God allows some to conceive a child that will never be born or why others carry a baby to term yet never hold them in their arms. I can't tell you why some die so young and yet others live a full life. I have no profound insight into the mind of God. But I can tell you that if you put your trust and faith in the Lord, you will see them again! Jesus said, "I am the way, the truth, and the life" (John 14:6, KJV). And He has gone to prepare a place for you that where He is, and all your loved ones who have gone before you, you may be also.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><div><br /></div><div> <span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>It is such a comfort to me knowing that when it is time for me to pass from this life into eternity, that I will meet my father and little girl, that I will be able to share that joy with my grandfather. It brings such a warm feeling to my heart knowing that one day I will once again walk with my mother-in-law among the roses. So if you are reading this and you have lost a loved one,<i> rejoice </i>with me for you will see them again. Until then, look to the rose for it is a symbol of <i>life.</i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i> <span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>"</i>Dear Lord, touch the heart of this child of God with the assurance that they too will see their loved ones again. Hold them close to You that their sorrow may only last for a night, and allow joy to fill their heart as morning rises on a new day. Whisper in their ear of Your love and assure them that You are the resurrection and the life and all who believe in you shall not perish but have everlasting life. In the precious name of Your Son, who gave His life for you, I pray,"</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"></div></div></div>BeverlyJeffershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10901007309868454859noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479680054284924357.post-48173350807544576612021-10-29T08:00:00.001-04:002021-10-29T08:00:00.171-04:00The Rose (Day 3 From Cleansing Thoughts)<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEimTLXpyRnGKNfbYr2j-KQRnZPVr-h0HjgeTjWn9KqpLUVkleT_SAF-ppGvLfH-LM488OE5JYLsYbPt08-pLqwjdD22wqZoTGv-vDz_FPDNsAwIkm2ZeWvWfAx_G3m9nUEWCLuCkOkwgr99Vq1xufHJtmUcWtchsL3bQ9QxOkWnAnmTH6jB9r-Ft0Jp=s3024" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="3024" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEimTLXpyRnGKNfbYr2j-KQRnZPVr-h0HjgeTjWn9KqpLUVkleT_SAF-ppGvLfH-LM488OE5JYLsYbPt08-pLqwjdD22wqZoTGv-vDz_FPDNsAwIkm2ZeWvWfAx_G3m9nUEWCLuCkOkwgr99Vq1xufHJtmUcWtchsL3bQ9QxOkWnAnmTH6jB9r-Ft0Jp=w200-h200" width="200" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>I continued to work in the garden for what seemed to be a very long time before the drawing of the flowers interrupted my thoughts again. My heart met with a large full-bloomed red rose called Chrysler Imperial. The red was so deep you could lose yourself in its beauty, and the fragrance brought a smile to my face with memories of my mother-in-law. This was one of her favorite roses. Mom felt the beauty of a rose was in the giving, so I decided to cut this one and give it away. My mind filled with wonderful memories of her, and I felt like she was there with me, if only for a moment, reminding me that I would see her again someday. As I continued to work, I could imagine her rending God's roses and sharing their beauty with the one who had created them.</span></p><p><br /><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>The next bush, the Peace Rose, my thoughts turned to my grandfather. Maybe because it wasn't until his later years that he found the peace in life that only the Lord could bring. This vibrant rose is mostly yellow, which reminded me of life, and has a reddish color running through it, that reminded me that the Lord is the resurrection and the Life. I guess that is why I thought it strange that it was the only bush in the garden with only one rose on it. like most little girls, one of my favorite persons in the whole world was my grandfather, and I have many wonderful memories of times we shared together. My last memory of him was in the hospital before he died. A smile came over his face, and he reached out as if he was taking someone's hand. I will never forget the expression on his face, one of complete and total peace. Something came over me, and suddenly, in my heart, I knew he had seen the Lord and my father standing beside him. How wonderful their reunion must have been! As I reached out to touch the rose, some pedals fell into my hand, while the others fell to the ground, but my heart was full of joy because I knew, just like my grandfather, the bush would bloom again.</p><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="877" data-original-width="1215" height="144" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE5K-yZRW7n9S-l-j8pERf8wjp7egkD1Nlry2fssZr09yuF6FLJ3mwfkomJZLYWBhJ7emw0uetmkokr3RLMCP564d5SMbe-Jp1Tcxlq36C7UyQIKyACOzxfFkgse56QLjnoexfHw1KK0g/w200-h144/IMG_1540.PNG" width="200" /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p><br /></p>BeverlyJeffershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10901007309868454859noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479680054284924357.post-55409389232889654552021-10-27T08:00:00.003-04:002021-10-27T08:00:00.152-04:00The Rose (Day 2 from Cleansing Thoughts)<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjX6_c8LD1AtK-qK8TBE3OoHfkSDsflvblOEhK2vOD9EFX-WsX_4TA4gdEj474ZIBiQW01rtnkbGH_guv-FNIsDS9U2APLi2dxsjvdK69rxao2aJYXwr5J9K6tC9sTNn5JFu-DDxwtt6iGpwJkH_7ceRa3TLFcZzrPuG8dmO73SZflIPsQUZppZIQ6W=s4032" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjX6_c8LD1AtK-qK8TBE3OoHfkSDsflvblOEhK2vOD9EFX-WsX_4TA4gdEj474ZIBiQW01rtnkbGH_guv-FNIsDS9U2APLi2dxsjvdK69rxao2aJYXwr5J9K6tC9sTNn5JFu-DDxwtt6iGpwJkH_7ceRa3TLFcZzrPuG8dmO73SZflIPsQUZppZIQ6W=w150-h200" width="150" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>The next to capture my attention was a lavender rose, just partially opened, called Royal Amethyst. In its early development, the color gives just a hint of being blue, which looks striking against the deep green leaves. As I leaned over to smell it, I could not help but notice it had a fragrance stronger than most of my other roses. As I looked at all the other's blooms on the bush, I thought of how wonderful each stage of a person's life could be seen in them. There were some buds just beginning to form, still wrapped so tightly that no color was visible; that reminded me of a baby yet in its mother's womb. Another, still in bud stage but just barely opened, brought to mind my young grandchildren just beginning life with all their potential yet to be seen. There were others in full bloom that brought a smile to my face as I thought of my husband and myself. We had thought our lives were complete raising our boys, yet now in the fullness of life, we were grandparents and found ourselves looking ahead to the golden years and the new experiences they would bring. Yet this one rose kept drawing me back to it. Maybe because it was in my favorite stage of development, no longer a bud yet not in full bloom. The tightness of its pedals reminded me of someone just beginning to experience a life filled with dreams yet to be fulfilled. How fitting that my thoughts turned to my father, who died when he was just a young man, never seeing the fulfillment of his dreams. Because I was so young at the time, I have no memories to call my own, only those shared by other family members. For many years, I would ask the Lord for just one memory of him, and one day, He answered that prayer. I had been given a keepsake my father had made for my grandfather when he was a small boy; it was a walnut he had carved with the word <i>dad </i>into it. It was after my grandfather had passed away. I had a dream of a large beautiful meadow with the tallest oak tree I had ever seen, and standing under its branches were two figures dressed in long white robes. I couldn't see their faces, but one appeared to be tossing something into the air and catching it in his hand, I found myself being drawn closer to the hand as it caught the object until it was all I could see. Then the hand opened, and in it was a walnut with the word <i>dad</i> carved into it, and I heard a voice say, "I can't believe you kept it all these years it." Just a dream. . . Maybe, but to me, it will always be a memory to call my own. In the Scriptures, amethyst is a symbol of the priesthood. Perhaps the Lord was trying to show me, in this single Royal Amethyst rose, that one day when it is my time to go home to be with Him, I will meet my father, perhaps in the meadow under that same oak tree.</p><br /><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p>BeverlyJeffershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10901007309868454859noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479680054284924357.post-78740997186225320532021-10-25T08:00:00.001-04:002021-10-25T08:00:00.145-04:00The Rose (Day 1 from Cleansing Thoughts)<div class="separator"><p style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="704" data-original-width="575" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxybdgY0v3VPzVMC6JwucfbaXTAoVpZlERio_xub6xdOBBNeNyZQxeaiS0pN4TfQEp7cfnauD7KWWj2ycM0DxJe-pMYc1gtemJwzFHYl0HjI2TTfKYhY8c74Sz7Qjhy0ErqyA44dQeOkc/w163-h200/IMG_1159.PNG" width="163" /></p></div><p></p><p></p><p style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> IN THE LANGUAGE OF FLOWERS, the pink rose is a symbol of innocence, while the red stands for love and the white for purity, but one day, in the quietness of my rose garden, the Lord showed me it was a symbol of life.</p><p style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span> </span>I had always loved roses, but it wasn't until my mother-in-law got me started growing my own that I fully understood their silent beauty. While I was pruning the bushes, I became increasingly aware of the different buds and flowers that appeared on each one. Some were just beginning to form, while others were partially opened. There were also roses in full bloom, yet others were beginning to lose their petals. I also noticed that, strangely enough, some had died in each stage of development, and as I continued with my work the Lord began to speak to my heart.</p><p style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> I was pruning one of my favorites, a soft pink rose called PeggyLee, which had been a Mother's Day gift from my oldest son. I remembered when the first bloom appeared I was so amazed as its color and beauty. Each rose on the bush appeared so delicate, perfectly shaped, and had the sweetest fragrance. This is why I was so surprised when I noticed a small bud, something came over me, and I began to cry. My thoughts turned to the miscarriage I had, had many years ago. I remember when I cut the first bloom just the summer before and dedicated it to her. In honor of her memory, I had written her name on a small card, tied it to the rose with a white ribbon, placed it in a stream, and just stood in silence as I watched it drift out of sight. I wondered if she would have enjoyed roses as much as I did and what type of young women she would have become. My daydream was shattered as I cut myself on one of the thorns. It was then that I became aware of the reassuring voice of God that seemed to be saying, "She was as delicate and tiny as this small bud." Like this tiny bud, my little girl died before she was given the chance to bloom, and somehow, I now understand she was blooming before the Lord.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvNcu1A7qQQeMGjEUXrBOHqeI5I09mkjPp2cmVw1OtrZ0E0SgZGw_CbQ7RPXYcNK2ZF8nNtbR3u14a7QwuKTFZ0ZCkmrkIwU0HVlZ0yffR7h-2mEqlOOIV0sUemEVV8qj8HeUWDpvZ_Mc/s546/IMG_1531.PNG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="427" data-original-width="546" height="160" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvNcu1A7qQQeMGjEUXrBOHqeI5I09mkjPp2cmVw1OtrZ0E0SgZGw_CbQ7RPXYcNK2ZF8nNtbR3u14a7QwuKTFZ0ZCkmrkIwU0HVlZ0yffR7h-2mEqlOOIV0sUemEVV8qj8HeUWDpvZ_Mc/w205-h160/IMG_1531.PNG" width="205" /></a></div><br /><p style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></p>BeverlyJeffershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10901007309868454859noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479680054284924357.post-11239351539933815342021-10-22T08:00:00.032-04:002021-10-22T08:00:00.179-04:00The Little Girl Within (Day 2 from, Letters to a Friend)<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhVjgfVK3jNgqC48IRWF7_SnyeR-6mW5Uwa0xMaRGdSGXntGw8rhBY_0MtiI7APIDZFpc023GLxyaU0YGcFSbr4JBGWCP7qe9VCODCkmF3xhqjQO2KuDT_keB4CHfCDnwbwoPeCO0zjiGs-nVKQuOsl1xOkCUeyUAwd6Kfswtx9PkF3P_S8CqhTWjX-=s1458" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1458" data-original-width="996" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhVjgfVK3jNgqC48IRWF7_SnyeR-6mW5Uwa0xMaRGdSGXntGw8rhBY_0MtiI7APIDZFpc023GLxyaU0YGcFSbr4JBGWCP7qe9VCODCkmF3xhqjQO2KuDT_keB4CHfCDnwbwoPeCO0zjiGs-nVKQuOsl1xOkCUeyUAwd6Kfswtx9PkF3P_S8CqhTWjX-=w137-h200" width="137" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> I had to
protect myself, so I began to build a wall to keep everyone out using bricks of
distrust and laid them with a mortar made from fear. Over the years when I
faced painful difficulties I laid another layer of bricks. Year after year I built that wall, but no
matter how high it became it didn’t stop the pain from getting in, what I had
failed to realize, was it had stopped me from getting out. I didn’t belong in
an adult world. As I’m writing this I am seventy-three years old and still have
difficulty at times. I had lost all those years growing up that would have
prepared me. The wall I had built around me is gone but the little girl is still
within. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I
have a hard time being in large groups or showing my emotions, and I like to
lose myself in the things I enjoy such as gardening or in books. Even when I
get lonely I would still rather be by myself than with most people. My husband
gave me a plaque once that said, “Blessed are those who expect nothing for they
will not be disappointed,” and until I accepted Christ, I guess you could say
that’s how I saw the world. I’ve learned, over the years, who I am in Christ,
and knowing that has given <u>me</u> an identity I never got as a little girl. Then one day I walked into my first Sign
Language class at the church and fell in love with singing in sign language.
All the emotions I had bottled up inside came pouring out through my hands and
when the music stopped and I opened my eyes people were crying. God had used my
signing to open their hearts; that was one of the first times I ever felt
accepted, even in a church. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The
first song I ever signed was for a Bible study group it was called Something
Beautiful, I had chosen it because it was the essence of my life, the chorus
goes like this; “Something beautiful, something good. All my confusion He
understood. All I had to offer Him was brokenness and strife, but He made
something beautiful out of my life.” He
has brought me a long way but the most astonishing revelation came
when I realized my heavenly Father was there all the time. He had seen all the hard, ugly, and painful times
and He understood the confusion for trying to be an adult when I had never been
allowed to be a child, “Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the
Lord your God goes with you; He will never leave you or forsake you” (Deuteronomy
31:6, NIV). I am the person I am today because
of what I went through, and I believe I am a better person than I would have
been without those hard, ugly, and painful times. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">To
whom it may concern, I have written this just for you, and to tell you it’s
time to tear down your wall. I don’t know who you are, but I have seen your
eyes and I’ve felt your sadness, but you're not alone and I understand because I've walked in your shoes. Your heavenly Father has called me to pray for you and I want you to know what
God has done for me He is waitining to do for you. He is saying to you, “I know
the plans I have for you . . . plans to prosper you, and not to harm you, plans
to give you a hope and a future” (Jeremiah 29:11, NIV).</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"> </span></p><p>
</p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";">Your
Sister in Christ<o:p></o:p></span></p>BeverlyJeffershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10901007309868454859noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479680054284924357.post-19441062864578072302021-10-20T08:00:00.001-04:002021-10-20T08:00:00.215-04:00The Little Girl Within (Day 1 from, Letters to a Friend)<p style="text-align: center;"> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjJaNwRJ3rLIsIQQozJqdEXyFD4SGyXSu6-qEOxjKGzvKv7g5IjrKxI3Ou7RdMIQCUgTybt1AklMNek4-TCM1kEiW3SI9rStumZ7eeV9KF2MnKogOeR2WMfoOqcGHd--Z0XgRe-WTj8eigOSyOzxs8yc3M3rOvSpPXpjhVJ1lnAJTAGJhKZHBe1NSz5=s3180" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3180" data-original-width="2509" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjJaNwRJ3rLIsIQQozJqdEXyFD4SGyXSu6-qEOxjKGzvKv7g5IjrKxI3Ou7RdMIQCUgTybt1AklMNek4-TCM1kEiW3SI9rStumZ7eeV9KF2MnKogOeR2WMfoOqcGHd--Z0XgRe-WTj8eigOSyOzxs8yc3M3rOvSpPXpjhVJ1lnAJTAGJhKZHBe1NSz5=w158-h200" width="158" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The
Little Girl Within<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> The Lord has been whispering in my
ear that there is a story that needs to be told, but more importantly, there is
someone that needs to hear it. This morning I ran across a dear friends’ post
on Facebook that said, “Sometimes God wraps His glory in hard circumstances,
ugly obstacles, or painful difficulties, and it just never occurs to us that
within those life-shaking events is a fresh revelation of Him. AG” We all go
through hard, ugly and painful times and if we have been traumatized at some
point in our lives our heart can begin to shut off His voice that lies within
all of us,<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> My mother told me that when I was
a little girl I would stand at the door with my face pressed against the glass
for hours waiting on my daddy to come home, but he never did; my mother didn’t
know how to tell me that he never would. She just said one day I stopped
waiting; I was too young, at three years old, to understand what was happening.
I don’t remember anything about him and
I certainly did not know my life was about to change.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> How do you tell a three-year-old her
daddy had died? I was told when I was
older that he had died in a car accident. My grandparents would tell us about
him but never mentioned how he had died. They would show us pictures and talk
about the things he liked to do, like laying in the yard and looking up at the
sky creating images in the clouds; I often wondered what he saw. Over the years
I put together a puzzle from everything I was told about him; he was tall with
dark hair and blue eyes, he wrote the lyrics to a few songs that he sold for
pennies; I learned he would carry me around on his shoulders, and that I looked
a lot like him. It wasn’t until I was in my teens that I learned he didn’t die
in a car accident, but he had died in a car when he ran a hose from the exhaust
into the car through a window. For years I kept that knowledge to myself locked
away with the images I had created of him. Now all I wanted to know was why,
had I done something, why did he leave me? My life would have been so different
if he hadn’t abandoned me. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p>
</p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> By the time I was five I was told
I had a new daddy and we were going to move away; so we were told to say
goodbye to everything and everyone we had ever known to begin a new life. When
I was an adult my mother told me I would wrap my arms around my new daddy's
leg and whatever I wanted he just couldn’t say no. I was in my thirties when my
mother told me, one day I just stopped laughing and pulled away from everyone.
When she would come to look for me I was sitting in the closet or in the corner
of the room on the other side of the bed. I had a secret I was told not to
tell, and I didn’t until that day I told my mother. My new daddy had brought
home someone to watch us while they went out, a man he worked with, not a nice
man. He made me feel like a bad girl and ugly inside, and I became afraid. Little
did I know my life was would change forever.</span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>BeverlyJeffershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10901007309868454859noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479680054284924357.post-391420676576574102021-10-18T08:00:00.001-04:002021-10-18T08:00:00.184-04:00My Constant Companion (Day 4, from, Letters to a Friend)<p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEipPNl5jSNpc0ugLVJpC-ByNrouu8-VmMaEzNTnsJiypsR8R4Z4pIxH7eLKQqkx38aIn1Sr8pawDvkifvO58CnqzpMH-YkgiNUBmYOdte2JQNxaEUB-w-fTBDdwnKJY528VcstzDHBCklWhqZzx0yryAbrvgmqeDPHxjWXe9Zz9WSz9SxfH14m7WCYl=s845" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="845" data-original-width="601" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEipPNl5jSNpc0ugLVJpC-ByNrouu8-VmMaEzNTnsJiypsR8R4Z4pIxH7eLKQqkx38aIn1Sr8pawDvkifvO58CnqzpMH-YkgiNUBmYOdte2JQNxaEUB-w-fTBDdwnKJY528VcstzDHBCklWhqZzx0yryAbrvgmqeDPHxjWXe9Zz9WSz9SxfH14m7WCYl=w143-h200" width="143" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;"> <span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>In order
to have a complete answer to “Will we see our pets in heaven,” we need to answer
the question if animals can be saved. When you read the temptation and fall in Genesis
3 that caused God to drive a man from the Garden of Eden. The only animal that is mentioned in the
temptation account is the serpent, “Now the serpent was more cunning than any <b>beast of the field</b> which the Lord God
had made . . .” (verse 1. NKJV) And, in verses 14-15 God punished him for his
transgression, “So the Lord God said to the serpent: ‘Because you have done
this, you are cursed more than all cattle, and more than every beast of the
field; on your belly you shall go and you shall eat of the dust all the days of
your life. And I will put enmity between you and the woman, and between your
seed and her Seed; He shall bruise your head, and you shall bruise His heel.’” The
serpent was the only animal that broke the Lord Gods command in the Garden of
Eden, he used his cunning nature to deceive Eve into believing she would not die
if she ate from the forbidden tree, but her eyes would be opened to good and
evil and that she would be like God, and in-turn she convinced Adam to eat from
the tree as well; these were the only transgressors.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> I’m not implying there is not both
good and evil in the animal kingdom, but they follow their God-given instincts,
and at the same time remaining innocent. The fall of man affected all life and
the world as God created it was forever changed. All through scripture we read
about all of nature praising God, and about the earth feeling birth pains for
the coming of Christ. As I stated before
an animal offers us unconditional love and you can’t do that without the love
of God inside you.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> I would like to leave
you with one last thought in the days of Noah, the Lord saw the wickedness of man
and said he was, “Sorry that He had made man because every intent of the
thoughts of his heart was only evil continually.” We all know the story of the
great flood and the sign of a rainbow in the sky that the Lord would remember
the covenant that He had made saying, “. . . ‘<b>The rainbow shall be in the cloud, and I will look upon it to remember
the everlasting covenant between God and every living creature of all flesh
that is on the earth</b>.’” (Genesis 9:16, NKJV)<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> I know this is a
controversial subject but I hope you will give it some thought, and the next
time you are faced with the question, “Will we see our pets in heaven” you will
be able to help someone, or maybe even yourself, heal from the loss of a
beloved pet. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Your
Sister in Christ</span><span style="font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>BeverlyJeffershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10901007309868454859noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479680054284924357.post-26476203778773136152021-10-15T08:00:00.014-04:002021-10-15T08:00:00.257-04:00My Constant Companion (Day 3, from Letters to a Friend)<p style="text-align: center;"> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi1IFBPfcPb3c3sW6cJV-ti_u9MTFNA3Po8-1XWX3uMiAPZnyPNcSYBuFTYXe368s-Os-0BfAqdl7VYeSksbdjSKU8Hj3Vg9GbFEB3DJXx83gvRAuE7TnFh-gdKSw-gUH_hfQxaK-tTR3Im6oiVfSSOfQbWp0ycC9hHAYbtevCj1P44j42Y-AwPB7SK=s3006" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2579" data-original-width="3006" height="172" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi1IFBPfcPb3c3sW6cJV-ti_u9MTFNA3Po8-1XWX3uMiAPZnyPNcSYBuFTYXe368s-Os-0BfAqdl7VYeSksbdjSKU8Hj3Vg9GbFEB3DJXx83gvRAuE7TnFh-gdKSw-gUH_hfQxaK-tTR3Im6oiVfSSOfQbWp0ycC9hHAYbtevCj1P44j42Y-AwPB7SK=w200-h172" width="200" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; text-align: left;"><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>The will is where we determine our desires and make
our choices, it is the intentions of our heart and if we don’t have strong
willpower it can lead us to destruction, it is where we determine if we are
going to be obedient or disobedient. Again I ask you have you seen any of these
traits in your pets. I was at a Field Trial where my husband was testing one of
his dogs, he had been working with for months and today was Daxs’ big day. All
through the test, he had done great work, accomplishing everything asked of
him. </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; text-align: left;">It was the last test of the day,
and Dax was sent out to search and retrieve a bird. </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; text-align: left;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; text-align: left;">His time was fantastic as he broke through the
brush carrying the bird in his mouth, then suddenly he stopped, stood there for
a minute, and then dropped the bird and walked the rest of the way to heal at
my husbands’ side. The dog, knowing better, determined he was done, choosing
disobedience over obedience. THE WILL</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> For
every good emotion, there is a bad one, such as love and hate, happy and sad but
no matter what you are feeling it will determine your attitude and can be seen
in your outward countenance, our emotions influence our personality. Can you
tell how your pet is feeling even though they can't speak to you; can you tell
if they are sick by looking into their eyes? Over the years we have had and
lost, many pets but the most amazing love story happened one afternoon when my
husband came in from being out in the yard with his last hunting dog. When they
came in he sat down in the chair and lowered his head, I has seen that look
before and I knew instantly what was happening. Broke slowly walked over to me and laid her
head in my lap and let me love on her, and then she went to our youngest son
and did the same. With tears streaming down my face I watched as she went to
stand beside where my husband was sitting, with one final look she met with his
eyes and the two of them walked back outside. Somehow Broke knew it was her
time, but she wanted to say her goodbyes to the family she loved. EMOTION<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> We’ve
all had shared similar experiences with our pets but it really doesn’t confirm
the answer if an animal has a soul. Again we must look into the language in
which the Word of God was written. Genesis 2:7 states, “And the Lord God formed
man out of the dust of the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of
life, and man became a living soul,” the
Hebrew for a “living soul” is <i>hayyah</i> [living]<i> nephesh </i>[soul]. Now let’s back up to Genesis 1:30, “Also, to every
beast of the earth, to every bird of the air, and to everything that creeps on
the earth, in which there is life . . . ” this states that animals have <i>hayyah </i>[life]. In Hebrew, the word <i>nephesh</i> is also used, the same words as used for a “living soul.”
The mind . . . intelligence, the will .
. . make choices and, emotions . . . personality, the same characteristics we
see in our pets.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p>
</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">In my research at one
point, I had read an article by Marianne Widmalm, that gave a new insight to
something so simple that I had completely overlooked, and made a note in the
margin of one of my Bibles it says, When
people dismiss the idea of animals having a soul because the Bible does not <u>pacifically
</u>say that God-breathed “life” into
them, like He did with Adam, then we could apply the same argument to a woman because it does not <u>pacifically</u> say that God-breathed “life” into Eve
either. (Genesis 2:21-22<o:p></o:p></span></p>BeverlyJeffershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10901007309868454859noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479680054284924357.post-39681864329507898782021-10-13T08:00:00.001-04:002021-10-13T08:00:00.207-04:00My Constant Companion (Day 2, from Letters to a Friend)<p> <span> </span><span> </span><span> </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjOoQ-rbLcG4DuItH7ftywviRIwIYHLCQD9lZZc20ZWH3jvV9I6h9uQHGnn-ENYTKjavF7Mf7CwUOHfpKme89qTgUzZoj0YqWWvPAfXaGzKB3NZp3hIvm7t_g4YDKWt1MLjdVli-fldY9vrLFZQfMI9lzzOTHGl8jQH07baZBa1ZN6tYIgeiZedj99y=s599" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="585" data-original-width="599" height="196" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjOoQ-rbLcG4DuItH7ftywviRIwIYHLCQD9lZZc20ZWH3jvV9I6h9uQHGnn-ENYTKjavF7Mf7CwUOHfpKme89qTgUzZoj0YqWWvPAfXaGzKB3NZp3hIvm7t_g4YDKWt1MLjdVli-fldY9vrLFZQfMI9lzzOTHGl8jQH07baZBa1ZN6tYIgeiZedj99y=w200-h196" width="200" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>Without realizing it I found myself once again
contemplating the unanswered question, “Will we see our pet’s in heaven?”</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> The
Word of God mentions in several scriptures about animals <u>being in heaven</u>
but there is one, in particular, I would like to share with you from the book of
Isaiah 11:6-9, it speaks of the Messiah’s reign in which complete harmony will
exist between animals and man and all of creation will be <u>restored </u>under
His rule. Now I grant you this is speaking of the New Jerusalem, “But are their
animals in heaven now?” The answer is, yes, Revelation 19:14 states that
the armies of heaven will follow Christ on white horses when He returns. Now
mind you I don’t think for a minute that God will send His angels to round up all the white horses on earth and bring them to heaven only to send them back
again with His army on their backs, so they must already be there, wouldn’t you
agree. But as for animals <u>going to heaven after they die</u>, I have not
found where the Bible <u>specifically </u>addresses this question.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I love to do research
and over the years I have spent many hours poring over research books, commentaries, and concordances searching for scriptures to help me find an answer. I have
read article after article and asked several Pastors this question and I hate
to admit it, but the majority of my findings say “no,” the reason being that
animals do not have a soul, therefore, there is no salvation, and no one can
enter heaven unless they are saved. In order to answer the question “Will we
see our pets in heaven,” I had to find the answer to more questions. Do animals
have a soul, and is salvation extended to the animals? <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> When
I had my store we got a book titled Sparkling Gems by Rick Renner, it’s a
Greek word study in the format of a yearly devotional. Well after, once again, searching
the scriptures and still not finding answers I turned to Rick Renner’s book,
only this time I based my search on the word “soul” which led me to 1 Peter
2:11 in the content of this text Rick Renner wrote, “The word “soul” is the
Greek word <i>psyche</i>, which describes <i>a person’s mind, will, and emotions</i>.”
Again, animals were not mentioned so I began to break my search down to the
three aspects of the soul individually. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> The
mind is the seat of your intellect, memory, and reasoning, it’s where we form
our likes and our dislikes, the mind makes up our thought process. Now I have a
question for you, have you ever seen your pet display any of these qualities? I
know I certainly have. My husband trained hunting dogs as well as showed them
in Field Trials. He was strict in his discipline and generous with his praise.
They could track a duck across the water and follow a three-day-old blood trail
of a deer. My husband was a good trainer, but it was the dog’s intelligence and
thought process that enabled them to do the things they were taught that made
them great hunting dogs. As I stated before Avery was rescued from an abusive
home, but years after she came to live with us, if she was around when my
husband removed his belt from his jeans at night, she would instantly drop flat
on the floor and begin to shake from the memory of her abuse. THE MIND</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>BeverlyJeffershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10901007309868454859noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479680054284924357.post-27606987541169311282021-10-11T08:00:00.002-04:002021-10-12T10:43:37.421-04:00My Constant Companion (Day 1, from Letters to a Friend)<p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjbMuPtgIrxFcI_fMpjZHgu3k-giGFPoFVc1ycSJdU0jVkv0B__Xd0GxVRiQRymu4P1rsrMUyxIgV2czXCL9esFfukCSnRJ7xkKiAWaXobhcgQOxQzh5_fS1jMM2hj8LKNfNHrROt6fSjFzJ8BOTFM5mM9Pvx4dvfx3g3EjBwhTyvFkpmn8fAztFwgZ=s3047" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3047" data-original-width="3024" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjbMuPtgIrxFcI_fMpjZHgu3k-giGFPoFVc1ycSJdU0jVkv0B__Xd0GxVRiQRymu4P1rsrMUyxIgV2czXCL9esFfukCSnRJ7xkKiAWaXobhcgQOxQzh5_fS1jMM2hj8LKNfNHrROt6fSjFzJ8BOTFM5mM9Pvx4dvfx3g3EjBwhTyvFkpmn8fAztFwgZ=w199-h200" width="199" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">My Constant Companion<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> One
day when I was working at the store a woman came in with a young girl at her
side, I couldn’t help but notice that she had such a long face and her eyes remained looking down, her overwhelming sadness was very apparent, When she looked up her
eyes were so sad and I noticed she had been crying, whatever was wrong it was
obvious her heart was broken. As her mother continued with her shopping she
stayed up front where I was working, and it wasn’t long before she told me her
dog had died and her mommy said he wouldn’t go to heaven. Being an animal lover
myself I was filled with compassion for this little girl, a pet is a child’s
first experience with unconditional love. A parent loves their child, but the
Meir fact that they are a parent does come with conditions and
responsibilities, it’s not wrong, it’s just being a good parent. I thought
about her off and on all day, and truthfully I just didn’t understand why her
mother couldn’t have found another way to help her little girl with her grief
rather than break her heart even more.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">I have never forgotten
that broken-hearted little girl and when I started working as a secretary for a
cemetery, which also had a pet section, one of the books I kept on hand was to
help a child deal with the loss of a pet. I admit many times over the years
I’ve contemplated the unanswered question, “Will we see our pets in heaven?”<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p>
</p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"> Recently
I lost my little dog, Avery, and like that little girl I grieved her loss, she
had been my constant companion for 15 years. My son had rescued her from an
abusive home, when he gave her to me we thought she must have been around two
years old, but the mental scars were still evident. Maybe that’s why she
touched my heart the way she did it was our common bond or perhaps it was
because my son had given her to me and I felt a little part of him was always
near, but for whatever reason we soon became inseparable. When we went fishing
we were the first ones in the boat, she would sit on my lap and let the breeze
blow her ears back. Oh, how Avery loved having her ears starched. In the evening
she was in my lap, and when bedtime came she curled up at my back for the
night. As she grew older she would wake me up sometimes and wanted to be petted
or her tummy rubbed, if I took my hand away she nudged me with her nose or used
her paw to pull my hand back to her. When morning came I would roll over and
find her with her head on my pillow and covered with my blanket. As I watched the
subtle signs of her aging over the past few years I felt a sting hit my heart
and I knew the time would come when my sweet little girl wouldn’t be with me
anymore, and to be honest, I didn’t know what I would do without her. A couple
of years ago I became aware that she was losing her hearing and had gone blind
in one eye, she was slowing down and sleeping most of the day. As of late Avery
just wasn’t herself and I knew in my heart our time was getting short, at night
she stayed in her bed instead of being with me and I would get up several times
during the night to check on her. Well, one morning that time came and my heart
was broken as I said goodbye. When everything was ready my husband came to get
me and together we lowered, her still little body into the ground and I took
the shovel to fill her final resting place beside Broke, my husbands’ hunting
dog in an area that overlooked the east garden. I still find myself waking up
in the night to check on her, or looking around the yard when it’s time to go
inside. This Fall I planted white mums at their graves. </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></span></p>BeverlyJeffershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10901007309868454859noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8479680054284924357.post-81278816465035209592021-10-08T08:00:00.001-04:002021-10-08T08:00:00.147-04:00Symphony of Praise (Day 3 from, Beside Still Waters)<p style="text-align: center;"> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC4AHswLOW8oUoDoErabKgEcoP9v1pz1ktwKfdr57gg0Z1yQ1Sw-IC9E6xPqYIE5DoP-GRtxXh-oifxgnDvYJB91OIHXkpQUUg-fBKhBNCvX8ekb1hyN7eUIuYHBofWY_BveWoNAjGIzo/s794/IMG_3426.PNG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="794" data-original-width="541" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC4AHswLOW8oUoDoErabKgEcoP9v1pz1ktwKfdr57gg0Z1yQ1Sw-IC9E6xPqYIE5DoP-GRtxXh-oifxgnDvYJB91OIHXkpQUUg-fBKhBNCvX8ekb1hyN7eUIuYHBofWY_BveWoNAjGIzo/w136-h200/IMG_3426.PNG" width="136" /></a> </div><br /><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> <span style="font-family: inherit;"> I then moved to a corner in the front yard where I had planted a few sunflowers, it was the only place I could find with the amount of sun they needed that was protected from the high winds we often get. There is a phenomenon in the world of flowers that only happens with the immature sunflower and its ability to track the movement of the sun. Within the stem is an internal clock that runs on a 24-hour cycle as the plant matures. The growth rate is higher during the day and lower at night allowing the stem to move very slowly d</span></span>uring the night so the flower is facing east at sunrise, and faces the west as the sunsets, the cycle repeats until the plant matures, at that time the flower will remain facing east. <span style="font-family: inherit;">This process can be summed up in one-word pollination, studies showed that the flowers heat up faster when facing east and attracted five times as many pollinators. </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> You are probably asking yourself what does all this have to do with praise, however, when you look at it through a heart of praise it's a miracle. The young sunflower is drawn to follow the light of the sun, and as the" Son" of God, Jesus, stated in John 9:5, "As long as I am in the world, I am the light of the world." </span></span><span style="font-family: inherit;">We, as Christians, are told by the Son to, "Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works and glorify your Father in heaven." (Matthew 5:16 NKJV) On the day that Jesus made His trimphal entry He traveled west from the Mount of Olives, entering Jerusalem from the east through the East Gate onto the Temple Mount. Are you beginning to see the connection?</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: inherit;">As I stood there looking up into the face of this amazing flower I could see its face and leaves lifted high to the "Son" in worship giving praise to its Creator. I was in awe as it reminded me of Jesus' transformation. raising my hands in worship I whispered ". . . His face shown like the sun, and His clothes became as white as the light." <span> </span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> Even now a feeling of worship fills my thoughts as I recall the music of praise that filled my heart that day, and so many others since we moved to lake where He lead me beside still waters and restored my soul. </span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span><br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span></p>BeverlyJeffershttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10901007309868454859noreply@blogger.com0