Category: Gratitude, gratefulness, appreciation, gifts and giving

The Button Girl!

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As I have been hearing of the countless school districts withholding lunches from children whose parents have delinquent “school lunch” bills, I thought of my own school lunch days. As the eldest of three children reared in a poor home on government commodities, I was thrilled when in the fifth grade I received a gift of becoming a “button girl.”

To be selected as a “button girl or boy” you were recommended by your teacher, as a child that caused no problems in class and possessed a financial need. In the 1950’s and 1960’s, fifth and sixth grade children from poor families were given “chores” to do in exchange for school lunches. As “button children” we handed out “clean plate” buttons to anyone cleaning their plates.  At the end of each school year, if a child had received these buttons, they received a reward.

Certainly, I ate every bite of my food, for some days it was the only meal I had for the entire day. In addition to handing out the buttons, I completed chores including washing down blackboards, cleaning the fish tanks and any miscellaneous chores teachers or staff required.

As with poorer children in our present day, I was aware our family was atypical of other families. I sincerely desired to be able to eat a school lunch with the other children. Our packed lunches didn’t have the same delicious sandwiches or special lunch box treats as the other children whose mothers packed theirs.  Our home packed meals consisted of sandwiches with white bread from the day-old bread store at 15 loaves for $1.00. The filling was not meat or cheese, but merely government commodity butter or if we were fortunate, a special treat of commodity peanut butter. Never was it a peanut butter and jam sandwich for the jam would have been too costly.  There were no chips, fruit or sweet treats; merely a barren sandwich.

Even though the other children realized I was “poor” and had to work for my lunch, for those few brief minutes each day, I could be “one of the other kids.”  Our hand-me down clothes from the missionary “clothes barrel” or hand sewn clothes also always set us apart from the other children.

TO BE CONTINUED! II Thessalonians 3:10, NIV “…the one whom is unwilling to work shall not eat.”

Do You Have Storm Coverage?

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If you have resided in OK long enough, you are accustomed to the numerous storm warnings. Sometimes the storms dissipate, and the warnings merely caused alarm or concern. If you heeded the warnings, you were able to be organized to “take cover” if necessary.  Last evening as the storm was approaching closer, I was prepared. My storm shelter was open and even though I was unable to take all crucial possessions or documents to the shelter in the event a tornado had hit my home, I had a few necessities “ready.”

While residing in south FL for several years, we also prepared for impending hurricanes. Fortunately, weather coverage gives residents far more time for planning and sanctuary for hurricanes than when preparing for tornadoes in OK. Nonetheless, weather technology and meteorologists have enabled most persons in the US to be prepared for many of these natural disasters.

What about the storms of life? Do we have warning? Are we ready? Unfortunately, most often we are not. With the loss of jobs or our homes, automobile accidents, illnesses or physical injuries, the unexpected death of loved ones, marital betrayal and countless others, we may be caught off guard. How do we prepare for these storms?

If you attended Sunday School as a young child, you may recall the children’s chorus about the wise and foolish man. The lyrics were: “the wise man built his house upon the rock, and the rains came tumbling down. The rains came down and the floods came up and the house on the rock stood firm. The foolish man built his house upon the sand, and the rains came tumbling down. The rains came down and the floods came up, and the house on the sand went flat. So, build your house on the Lord Jesus Christ and the blessings will come down. The blessings will come down as your prayers go up, so build your house on the Lord.”

I loved that song as a child and as a Sunday School teacher because the motions to the song are what bring it to life. As adults, we may feel we have built our lives upon the Lord, so they remain strong and stable.  However, we can never predict what others will do, nor the factors which may cause our lives to suffer significant storm damage. If we have a solid foundation on the Lord, our lives normally don’t totally crumble even though they may become quite shaky and unstable. Isaiah 59:19 KJV “When the enemy comes in like a flood, the spirit of the Lord will lift up a standard against him.”

Are You A Vault or a Sieve?

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Has a friend or member of your family ever come to you with weighty burdens and torments of their life? Have they said to you, “I’m sharing because I know I can trust you?” Perhaps they even asked you to pray with them during a heavy-hearted chapter of their life. Were you a vault or a sieve?

For over 44 years I frequently sought persons whom I believed would realize I honored them enough to share some of my deepest despair(s) with them. Yet, too often they were not vaults; holding my confidences in their hearts only. They were sieves as they shared with not only others, but most often the perpetrator of the sorrow.

When a “sieve” shares another’s heartache, they have betrayed not only the person whom trusted them, but those whom they shared with. When someone comes to you with a tale about another person, does it cause you to pause?  Do you realize if they so rapidly shared another’s heartache, which they were asked to hold in confidence, what other things do they do? Do they lie, steal and cheat, or are they merely persons whom honor nothing?

Because I am a 44-year survivor of domestic violence there were no agencies, I could go to seeking help. I had no family or close friend to confide in. After time with the Lord in prayer and bible study, I often desired a “human ear.” Because I believed my most logical “vault” would be those in my church whom I knew and had socialized with, I shared my burdens with them. The confidence breaking sieves are too numerous to count.

Far too often the person whom you have confided in lacks self-respect, honor and/or integrity. By allowing your heartaches to be shared with others, it boosts their self-esteem. They believe being a sieve places them on a higher plane than the person that trusted them. They feel they possess something of value; another’s trust.   The gift of trust as a “vault” is far greater than being a sieve that possesses the knowledge granted them.  Proverbs 13:3 NIV, “He would guards his lips guards his life, but he who speaks rashly will come to ruin.”

Will You Help Me- Part Two

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Our pastor urged me to seek solace away from Charles until our marital situation could improve.  My one bed-room apartment was roach infested in a very frightening part of town, but it was all I could afford. I took my daughter and son-in-law to help me move a bed, small table, a couple of chairs and some of my personal effects from our large marital home. Charles barricaded the passageway, as he touted it was “his house” and “his things” and I was taking nothing. I was seeking only the basic items to exist in a barren apartment.

He also refused access to my clothing and personal items. Even though some of the furniture were heirlooms from my family, I was still prevented from taking even a bed.  Charles cited I could take two sports chairs and a card table from the garage. My daughter loaned me a bed. As days passed, I was desperate.

I sent an e-mail to the city of Ft. Worth inquiring about the legality of panhandling, as I had passed countless panhandlers on the city streets.  I noted, I didn’t wish to break the law, but I was desperate, explaining my circumstances. The mayor of Ft. Worth, whom I will be grateful to, for the remainder of my life, Mr. Michael Moncrief, personally contacted me. He informed me that panhandling was illegal. I told him that I had no desire to break the law, but merely to find a way to survive.

The gift he gave me that day, was when he noted I was a victim of domestic violence and I needed to go to Women’s Haven in Ft. Worth, ASAP. I did and the rest is history. I never realized how abused I was until I became a client at what would become my “life saver.” I received a gift of support and understanding from the counseling at Women’s Haven. I couldn’t change Charles’ heart or attitude toward me, but I would come to better understand then and many years later, that his actions were and are typical of abusers.

When my car was broken down at the side of the road, even as Charles’ wife, he refused to come to my aid. At the time I had no roadside assistance plan.  I made multiple telephone calls until I found someone to assist me. The comprehension for many victims of domestic violence is surviving solo becomes impossible.

My reality was if I wanted to survive, I had no choice but to return to my husband and home. I continued to hope, pray and believe that the love I had for him then and the previous 35 years, would override his desire to abuse.  My love was not enough.

I was reminded yet again during my recent training to volunteer at our local domestic violence center, it’s all about control. Abusers will do anything they can to control their victims. I would realize 8 years later that I could no longer fight the battle. As the staff of Palomar has reminded us, “we protect the things we love.”

Charles ultimate abuse was his betrayal of beginning an affair while I was his wife. The other abuses during our marriage were minuscule in comparison to learning the truth behind his abandonment of me after our 44 year marriage. I learned of his mistress six years later. He proudly touted, he had never loved me, but that he had needed me so he would be successful in his career.

I then realized, that is why he never protected me. Ephesians 4:2-3 NKJ, “with all lowliness and gentleness, with longsuffering, bearing with one another in love, endeavoring to keep the unity of the spirit in the bond of peace.”

 

 

Will You Help Me? -Part One

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Each of us have passed panhandlers on the sidewalks and byways of our cities. Our attitude toward them may be as diverse as the millions of snowflakes or stars in the sky. Whatever our emotions, most of these individuals don’t choose to be there.  Yes, there are some that have made panhandling their career. While residing in Ft. Worth, TX, there were several articles about the panhandlers and how lucrative the “business” was for some, touting of earning over $100,000.00 per year. They knew the times and the areas which provided the greatest benefit.

As two of my fellow volunteers and I had been discussing giving to those standing on our street corners, one of my friends shared about a lovely “gift” which she gives. She fills a handbag with some essentials, water and money for those she believes can benefit. For many of us whom have offered our “hand up” to these persons, there have been some disappointing experiences. Her gesture of kindness truly allows the recipient  to know she cares.

Some seeking help may feel they have no other options. I recalled my own personal experience in 2004.  As I awakened on a Sunday morning looking forward to the celebration of our 35th wedding anniversary, I was taken aback when my greeting; a card was literally “tossed” toward me. It was given with the comment of “there is no gift for you, as I didn’t feel like getting you one.” The tears stung my eyes as they meshed with my mascara. I was numb. What caused this display of anger?

My then husband, Charles and I went to church and continued through our day in silence. My pleas for an understanding fell upon deaf ears. As Charles had done countless times in our marriage, when he was angry, one of his forms of abuse was complete lack of communication with me. If I had a query, it was ignored. If I greeted him, there was no reply. If I attempted to show affection, it was rebuffed. This scenario had been played in our home dozens of times over the past 35 years. Nonetheless, it didn’t stop me from my deep love for him and it certainly didn’t deter me in trying to make things better.

The following morning, I telephoned our pastor. I had counseled with him prior about the sorrow of my marriage, but this time was different. He cited I needed some space from Charles; not necessarily a divorce, but a place to reside until Charles’ anger subsided.  When Charles learned of my plans, his actions were as they had been since our first year of marriage; unless I did what he mandated, he “cut me off” from all financial assistance.

I was employed as a part-time consulting dietitian, but my income was small and would never provide even the necessities. I was married to an executive of a large public accounting firm earning a very comfortable salary. I had been his wife for 35 years, but now that our pastor was advising I seek an apartment as a reprieve from the abuse of our marriage, Charles had chosen again to “make me pay” (which were always his words when I did anything he disagreed with). Countless times, I watched his fist pound the counter, as said, “you will live to regret this, and I will make you pay.”  To be continued-Ephesians 4:2-3 NKJ, “with all lowliness and gentleness, with longsuffering, bearing with one another in love, endeavoring to keep the unity of the spirit in the bond of peace.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

What’s Your Pleasure?

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Webster defines pleasure as, “a feeling of happy satisfaction and enjoyment.” I think for most persons while doing and giving to others they experience pleasure. They realize by “doing” and not merely “giving”, they give a gift which money can’t procure. There are many ways to give intangible gifts, yet they may be felt tangibly.

Yesterday as I arrived at one of my favorite volunteer positions, I arrived with an extremely heavy heart possessing my personal despair, yet also realizing that when giving to others, my burdens subside.  Each week before I arrive, I ask God to send me persons He desires me to reach with His words and love.

I believed I was there to give, yet it was I that received. One of the clients I met with was experiencing exceptionally difficult trials. When I queried if I could hug her, not only did she accept, but she returned the hug with more fervor than I’ve ever sensed. Her sobs were returned with my own warm tears. My heart was breaking for her.  We conversed for as long as her heart desired. I also gave her resources for additional emotional support and understanding.

She was one of several “gifts” God granted me yesterday. There was yet another lady whom also sought not only the monetary assistance of our faith-based organization, but  the gift of understanding. When she sat down to converse with me, as with the other client, I was saddened for her.  She noted she has become weary of those not discerning her anguish. As a young mother she recently lost a teen daughter. I “heard” her words of sorrow about others giving her patronizing chatter. No, I can’t understand losing a teen child, but I sincerely empathize with her grief.

Acknowledging another’s mourning whether similar to ours or different is one of the greatest gifts we can give. Acts 20:35 NKJ “…And remember the words of the Lord Jesus, that He said, It is more blessed to give than to receive.”

Please Give Me Your Back Pack

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Do you ever have those days that you are so stooped over with your load that you would like for someone to grab your pack back and carry it for even a few minutes? You have prayed. You have spent time alone with the Lord, but your load is heavy and you just want a “human ear” to hear; to lift it for even a few minutes, while you stop and drink a cool bottle of water from God’s pristine well.

Yes, I do believe that each one of us have those times and as I’ve shared previously, if we live alone without friends or family to reach out to and say “hey, I need some additional prayer today, then where do we go?” I have often reached out to those in my church whom lead the prayer ministry, or I know are a sincere prayer warrior. Today was one of those days. I was literally awake all night, tossing and turning, but also praying.

I opted to reach out to our church prayer ministry leader. As I opened her reply e-mail I had to read it several times for I wondered if she had even read my short, but sincere prayer need. She had a list longer that our annual tax returns with her mandates. What? Her harsh and condescending words had nothing to do with what I had queried. She was commanding things which I have done countless times.  She was abrasive and abusive rather than supportive and loving.

Chuck Swindoll shares in one of his devotions that going to those in church is the right thing to do. He said “where can that fella…go to unload…to get help to bear the burden….a place where there is person-to-person caring and the opportunity for authentic sharing. Where he will feel free…to state his struggle; where some will listen, help him unload and give him fresh strength?”  I thought that was what I was doing with the director of the prayer ministry. The burns I received were so severe, I won’t be doing that again. I am and will continue to be that “someone” for others and will continue to pray and seek that God will bring me that person to help bear my burden when they are too heavy to carry alone. Gal. 6:2-3 NKJ, “Bear one another’s burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ. For if anyone thinks himself to be something, when he is nothing, he deceives himself.

The Gift To Our Community

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As I concluded three days of intensive training to volunteer at Palomar; the center for domestic violence (DV) and child abuse, I not only relived my own personal experiences, but also was reminded of the vastness of DV. What an extraordinary group of leaders in our community to have possessed the insight and desire to establish a center where victims could receive such breadth of assistance; emotional support, counseling, legal assistance, childcare, police protection, financial assistance and more.  This is a gift to not only our community, but to the countless women whom endure such trauma.

If only such resources had been available to me in 1969, I would not have endured the long-term abuse, but also would have realized I was then and am now, a person of value and worth. As with the majority of DV survivors, I remained because I loved my husband for over 50 years. Yet no amount of love could alter reality. As one of the speakers during the training noted, “we protect what we fall in love with.” Abusers don’t protect. They abuse to control.

We need only listen to or read the current news and realize there are countless validations that men in high places are indeed abusers (most often they are men, rarely are the abusers women). Career success, physical image or zip codes don’t negate such behavior. The more the victim attempts to seek help, the greater the abuse from the perpetrator. They realize they are losing their control.

Had my husband never left to begin his life with another, I would have remained, for my love for him was extraordinary.  As one of our speakers noted, anyone whom endures the trauma of DV has not only unfathomable strength, but love which is inexpressible. My gift will now be to give of my time to help those currently walking this sorrowful path. They have resources I never had, but what an asset in Palomar to heal and move forward with their lives.

I have always believed, there is truly a purpose for our heartache. Though our lives may be painful, it is all for God’s glory and honor, Jer. 29:11, NIV, “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.”

Smokin’ Hot

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It was going to be a good day. I had awakened early and had pulled from my drive before 7:30 a.m. to begin three days of intensive training for the local domestic violence center. Entering the highway, I had driven only a few miles when there was a blaring, unfamiliar noise and a simultaneous thumping.  Yes, it must have been a flat tire. If so, I was exasperated as I had been a customer at the tire shop only weeks prior for two new tires and informed by the tire shop experts, the other two had “miles to go” before they needed to be replaced.

As I was realizing I needed to pull off the highway, a kind gentleman was honking and waving at me, pointing to the rear of my car. As I peered over my right shoulder, black smoke was clouding my view of the otherwise brilliant blue sky. Yes, I must get off the highway immediately. Fortunately, the next exit would be a “safe haven” until I could seek help from my roadside assistance program.

When I drove my car into the parking lot of a convenience store, my tire was not merely flat; it appeared to have been processed for a “flat tire burger”. There is an excellent restaurant in my community with the same name. How delighted I am their burgers are comprised of meat and not “flattened tires.”

I was reminded once again of my former husband’s betrayal and abandonment. As a single, senior, I had no one to telephone, informing them of my predicament; no friends or family to assure me they would come to my aid if the roadside assistance was delayed.  My stress level was high, but I was also most appreciative my “blowout” didn’t cause a critical accident. That would be validated approximately an hour later when the roadside assistance arrived.

I’m grateful I was taking the situation in stride for the man’s emotions and vociferous verbiage would have caused greater anxiety. After he queried me, as to why I hadn’t removed the tire from my trunk and was awaiting him, he was further bewildered as to why the tire was annihilated and not merely flat. He reiterated what I understood when viewing the “blown out” tire. God was with me. I could have been in a serious accident.  I desired only that the emergency be amended so I could continue on my journey to arrive at the training session.

I arrived at the training over an hour late, but remained grateful for days to come that God was with me. I know the incident was inconvenient but was also very blessed God had His loving arms around me. Psalm 46:1 KJV, “God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.”

An Any Way Day

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As our pastor noted recently, we are a “I want” society. We order our coffee the way we desire it.  We request sandwiches with organic veggies on gluten free bread, using free range meat or poultry, hold the mayo, add organic mustard. For the majority of persons, such orders are not reality, but merely spoken in jest. However,  the list goes on and on for our food to be prepared exactly as we ordered it.  As he shared, if we don’t receive what we desire, we are prompt in voicing our concern. Aside from severe food allergies what happens if something we ordered isn’t exactly correct?

I imagine all of us can say at one time or the other we feel we deserve things “our way.” Why do we believe our way is the “only way?” Over the years, as my life has been filled with more challenges, I’ve realized that when we don’t always have things “our way” it can be a blessing. It may be a food order, or perhaps a service you ordered was not provided as promised. What about the appliance or furniture item you purchased and scheduled to be delivered? Upon arrival, it was broken or not the correct item.  Those miscalculations might give us the opportunity to try something new, save money or maybe even receive an unexpected benefaction.

Do you honestly believe the person making the error did that to upset you? Do we view such situations as an error or assault against us?  Why would the average person knowingly choose to offend a customer? Not only would they have the customer’s wrath, but most probably that of their superior.

Have you ever considered stepping back in time 60, 70 or perhaps even 100 years ago? There was one kind of coffee; black. You could add milk or sugar, but there were no fancy coffee shops. If you dined in a restaurant, you ordered what was on the menu; no ordering it “your way.”  You ate what was ordered “their way” or went hungry.  When you shopped for appliances or furniture, there were few basic choices; unless you were among the wealthy whom could have it “their way.”

What if each of us had an “any way” day; a day that we focused more on others and less on ourselves; the day we said, “anything goes ”.  What If you had to dine on cuisine which was not your favorite or visit someplace which was not among your top ten or even do something that day that you had no desire to do? Do you think you would have gained a gift? If you removed “me”, replacing it with “you”, you may receive gifts far greater than money can ever purchase.  Isaiah 55:8 NIV, “For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways.”