Yesterday when I picked the boys up from school, Bubba was bursting with excitement.  He has a one track mind and I could tell he was not thinking about the questions that I was asking regarding his day, but was much more focused on digging through his backpack.  He was hurriedly unzipping every zipper trying to find something.  Soon he produced a large green pear and wanted to know if he could eat it.  I, of course, wanted to know where it came from.  He pulled out a second pear and gave it to Paddy, explaining as he did that his class picked them off a tree on the school’s grounds.  Both 3^rd  grade classes took home pears from school yesterday.  Soon I had both boys begging to eat their pears.

I was driving and replied without really examining the pears. Knowing they might be a sticky, juicy mess, I asked them to wait.  We were on our way to the bank and we needed to go inside because I was out of deposit slips.  They asked if they could carry their treasured pears in the bank with us and I let them.  While we were at the bank my husband called, he was finished with work early and wanted me to see if Ms. Teresa could fit him in for a haircut.  The boys needed one too, so I met him at her shop and left the boys with him while I picked up Sissy from school.  They left their pears and backpacks in the car this time.

We all met back at the house to rush through homework, chores and dinner because we had plans for the evening.  The boys went back out to the driveway to retrieve their things.  They came in complaining that their precious pears were hot and wanted to put them in the refrigerator before eating them.  It was only now that I finally stopped to look at the pears.  They were not ripe yet.  I broke the news to two very disappointed boys that the pears were not ready to eat.  They needed to wait awhile before they ate the pears, perhaps even a few days.

First thing this morning, Bubba came into the kitchen to examine his pear.  He wanted to know if it was ripe yet.  When I told him, “not yet”, he replied, “But some of the other kids ate theirs at school yesterday…the teacher told them they could.”  I tried to explain that if he would just be patient that the pear would be sweeter and juicier.  Patience is a very hard thing to learn, I suppose. I’m almost certain when he gets home from school today that he will run to the kitchen to check the status of his pear.

Right now, my hubby and I are considering buying a new house.  We long ago outgrew our current one.  We have a house in mind that we are discussing and praying over. I want to move very badly.  I want that house. The purchase of the new house would involve renting our current one.  This is a big step for us.  I pray that if God does not want us to take this step, that He will make that clear.  I pray that if this is not the house for us that He will give me patience to wait for Him. I pray for that fruit of the spirit. I ask for His divine guidance in order that I will be able to savor every bite of His will for our lives.

I think how often in my life I have bitten into a “pear” before it was ready.  I lacked patience and faith.  I went down roads or made decisions without prayerfully considering which direction God would have me to go.  I wrongfully assumed if I saw a “pear” that it was ready to eat, never stopping to consider that it might not be the right thing for me or the right time.  When we wait for God’s perfect timing, life is so much sweeter and juicier. 

Psalm 40:1 (NIV) I waited patiently for the LORD; he turned to me and heard my cry.

I updated an old post you might have missed with pictures yesterday.  I’m not sure why I updated it because not too many people have the time or inclination to read older posts.  It was a post I wrote when I first started blogging and I did not know how to add pictures yet and I did not have many readers at the time either.  So if you are interested… Click here!

This post has been a year in the making. More than that really… Two years ago our church participated in a program run by Samaritan’s Purse called Operation Christmas Child. It involves filling a shoe box with personal hygiene items, school supplies, small toys, stickers, hard candy and other items for a child to receive at Christmas time.  The boxes are shipped all over the world to children in need of some Christmas cheer.  I did not participate in the program two years ago for various reasons. In fact, there was very little response from the church as a whole.

Sometime later some friends of ours came into town.  They had worked for Samaritan’s Purse and had a first hand account of the wonderful program and the effort involved in sending the vast amounts of shoe boxes to different countries around the world.  They told us wonderful and heart wrenching stories of the boxes and some of their recipients.  Some of the stories could be classified as nothing less than miracles! It reminded me that God is in control of the smallest of details.

I was inspired by the stories and started saving shoe boxes early in the year. Part of the lack of response had to do with the lack of shoe boxes on hand.  Several other ladies in the church also started saving shoeboxes ahead of time.  I wanted the children to be involved in helping other children and invited a few kids from church over to help wrap boxes and even write “secret messages” on the inside.

Last year about this time, I took Sissy and one of her friends from Sunday school to the store and gave them a price limit and a shoe box to fill together.  They had the best fun wandering all over the store together making decisions about what to put in the box.  The boys got on board as well and begged me to let them fill a box too.  At the time Paddy was 5 and Bubba was 8.  With a little direction from me, they made good decisions about what to include in the box. 

It turned out to be a lot of fun with very little time or expense involved.  The kids were excited about their boxes and the whole level of participation from the church was much better than the previous year.  It really made one smile to see all the beautifully wrapped shoeboxes filled with Christmas surprises for needy children stacked up in the church hallway.

Yesterday my hubby came in from the mailbox with an airmail envelope.  It was addressed to both Bubba and Paddy with no last name included.  There were two letters inside; one written in French and then an exact copy translated somewhat awkwardly into English.  The letters were dated June 20^th of this year and had come from the Congo in Africa!  

I was in a bit of a shock wondering how and why my boys had received a letter from the Congo since the letter made no mention of the shoebox or Samaritan’s Purse. But out fell a small photocopy of my boy’s first names and our address written in my handwriting. It had been almost a year since we had stacked that box at the church (September or October 2007)and slipped in our address just for kicks. I had long since forgotten about that shoebox. 

The boys were  tickled to receive the letter inquiring after their health and requesting pictures.  I got out the Atlas to show them where their box had ended up.  It appears they now have an overseas pen pal! 

Luke 10:25-37 (NIV)

On one occasion an expert in the law stood up to test Jesus. "Teacher," he asked, "what must I do to inherit eternal life?"

 "What is written in the Law?" he replied. "How do you read it?"

 He answered: " 'Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind'; and, 'Love your neighbor as yourself.'"

 "You have answered correctly," Jesus replied. "Do this and you will live."

 But he wanted to justify himself, so he asked Jesus, "And who is my neighbor?"

 In reply Jesus said: "A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, when he fell into the hands of robbers. They stripped him of his clothes, beat him and went away, leaving him half dead. A priest happened to be going down the same road, and when he saw the man, he passed by on the other side. So too, a Levite, when he came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side. But a Samaritan, as he traveled, came where the man was; and when he saw him, he took pity on him. He went to him and bandaged his wounds, pouring on oil and wine. Then he put the man on his own donkey, took him to an inn and took care of him. The next day he took out two silver coins and gave them to the innkeeper. 'Look after him,' he said, 'and when I return, I will reimburse you for any extra expense you may have.'

 "Which of these three do you think was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of robbers?"

 The expert in the law replied, "The one who had mercy on him."
      Jesus told him, "Go and do likewise."

Sissy got her hair cut to donate to Locks of Love today.  The boys were excited for her and actually wanted to go to the beauty shop!  In order to donate hair to Locks of Love it has to be at least 10 inches when straightened and bundled in a braid or ponytail as it is cut. I added a photo album for those of you who are interested.

When we got to the beauty shop Grandma asked if she and I could share the honor of cutting Sissy’s hair.  Ms. Teresa who we attend church with, said of course, but I let Grandma cut it all herself because I wanted to take pictures.  It was a wonderful grandmother/granddaughter moment.   As soon as Grandma had cut the bulk off, Paddy came over and gave Sissy a big hug.  It was another sweet moment.

Ms. Teresa finished up the cut as only a professional can. Sissy got her hair layered and with her natural wave I think it looks very cute.  She has a fresh new look for the 1^st day of school on Monday.  I cringe just a little though because the new cut makes her look a bit older than ten.

Thank you for all your suggestions regarding Bubba’s interest in helping in the community.  He has decided on giving away some of his toys and books to a local shelter that helps battered women and their children. He came straight home from the haircut and went to work in his room. So far he has two bags of books and toys he wants to donate.

He is a little down that Paddy does not share his enthusiasm though.  Paddy does not want to part with his toys but is fine watching Bubba give away his.  To be honest I think Paddy is doing better than I am, although Bubba does not know I am struggling inside. I keep saying to myself, “Lay not up for yourselves treasures upon earth”

You see Bubba has two Bibles and he wants to give one of them away.  I know this is shameful of me to want to hold back after all there are so many people who would love to have a Bible that don’t or can’t.  One Bible Bubba received as a gift from his grandfather when he started Kindergarten and the other Bible he received from his aunt when he made the decision to be baptized.  To me these are such precious gifts with special meaning and I don’t want to see either one of them go.

But they are his Bibles, not mine and I am so proud of him for eagerness and heart for others.  Is it better to make him second guess his decision and possibly get him to re-think giving one of the Bibles away or encourage these traits?  I really think it is my heart with the problem, not his.  If I dare show my hesitance it might plant a seed in his heart that I do not want to take root. 

Honestly, if someone needed a Bible, who of us would not give up ours for them?  I would willingly give up my own, but I am a bit more protective of my children.  I want him to truly understand what he is giving away. Perhaps he does, but the fact that he can do it with such nonchalance amazes me.  That speaks volumes of love to me.

Matthew 6:19-20 (NIV)

 Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moth and rust do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. 

When my brother was deployed to Iraq a second time I tried to send him at least one letter a week and one care package a month. My brother loves poetry and is a better poet than I ever dreamed of being.  One of his favorite authors is Billy Collins.  So for his birthday while he was deployed (2006) I re-wrote a poem by Billy Collins to make it fit how I felt about him.

The Care Package 

ByTheresa Richardson written in the form of The Lanyard by Billy Collins 

The other day I was walking slowly

down the crowded aisle at Wal-Mart,

moving as if in a dream from snack food to coffees,

from magazine rack to the vast selection of toiletries,

when I found myself staring at this buggy of gifts for my soldier.

I felt humbled and inadequate.

I was caught off guard at my emotions that took me back to

every war documentary I had ever seen or story told by a veteran

who had spent time overseas in time of war.

I had never been overseas

and had definitely never seen the face of war or been parted

from my children for month after month after month.

I had no clue what it was like to really fight or defend.

He gave me security and a sense of safety,

and I gave him a care package.

He sacrificed his comfort and wellbeing,

faced sleepless nights in cold places of

desolation that I cannot even imagine,

far from his family and loved ones,

and seen his friend’s face in immeasurable pain,

and I, in turn, presented him with a care package.

Here is your freedom, he said,

and here is pride in the land that you love.

And here is your care package, I replied,

which I bought this weekend at Wal-Mart.

Here is my blood, sweat and tears, sleepless nights, dirt and grit,

and hell unknown to you, he whispered,

and here, I said, is the care package I bought at Wal-Mart.

And here, I wish to say to him now,

is a smaller gift—the honest truth

that you can never repay a soldier,

but the rueful admission that when I send a care package overseas,

I’m sure as I can be that this square, brown

care package that I bought at Wal-Mart

 is not enough to make us even.

Sissy has been growing her hair out to donate to Locks of Love.  It has to be at least 10 inches long and she has finally made it!  It was her idea to do this and I am very proud of her. We are going to have it cut Saturday. Her Grandma asked to be present for the haircut so I had to juggle 3 schedules when I was making the appointment. A lady we go to church with cuts our families hair so it should be a fun event! I will be sure to take pictures for you all to see.

I often wonder how we can all live in the same house but still miss out on things that are going on in each others lives.  It baffles me sometimes. Evidently, Bubba had no clue that Sissy had been growing her hair out for locks of love this whole time.  We have all talked of it several times, but somehow he never realized what Locks of Love did.

My husband answered all Bubba’s questions this morning.  I overheard their conversation from the kitchen.  Bubba then came running in wanting to know if he could do what Sissy was doing! The first thing that came to my mind was laughter, imagining Bubba with hair down to his waist, but I knew that is not what he meant.  He really wanted to know if he could help someone like his sister was helping someone. 

I want to encourage this compassion in him, but I need your help.  I need ideas.  I need an idea for an almost nine year old boy who wants to help, who wants to make a difference. 

Dwelling

By: Theresa Richardson

I sit here thinking

I sit here and pout

Working it over

Working it out

Mulling it over

Again and again

Replayed it so much

Don’t know where to begin

Thinking it over

Always the same

Maybe my mind

was playing a game

It really happened

That way for sure

Stuck in the memory

There is no cure

My daughter loves to feed the birds.  I think she gets her love of birds from my Mom.  My Mother has always fed the birds as far back as I can remember.  In fact, one of my earliest memories is sitting at the window on a snowy day watching the birds eat at the feeder my Mom had set out.

I know my daughter has similar memories.  As a baby, just barely able to pull up, she would hold tightly to the large picture windowsill and watch the birds eat at her grandmother’s feeders.  She would drool and teeter and watch the birds longer than any toy would hold her attention.

One year we gave Sissy a bird feeder and a large sack of birdseed for a gift. We hung the bird feeder right outside her bedroom window.  She has had countless hours of enjoyment sitting on her bed watching the birds. She still runs down the hall in excitement when a particularly pretty or unusual bird stops to feed.

Now she is old enough to get the stool and fill the feeder herself. She has shown such responsibility and enjoyment that last winter when spring things were on sale my hubby bought her a pretty hummingbird feeder.  She waited patiently all winter to hang it. 

At first, it seemed that anytime a hummingbird got close to the feeder a wasp would drive it away. It looked as if every time the hummingbird showed up for a meal that wasp was there.  We were disappointed and I even asked my husband if there was anything we could do about the wasps.

 Now, in spite of the wasps, she has regular visitors to her feeder. She has been very excited and captured this picture herself. 

Matthew 6:25-27 (NIV)

"Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more important than food, and the body more important than clothes? Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life?

I used to worry and stress a lot.  I lost sleep at night because of worry. A large part of our income came from self-employment.  There were so many factors to consider: weather, cost of supplies, our own health and contracts.  None of these factors were really in my control.  Of course we could plan, we could buy on sale, and we could work hard and provide good customer service.  We can eat right and get plenty of sleep, but ultimately God is in control.

Certainly no amount of worry from me will change anything.  Worry takes its toil on you emotionally and physically. I used to relax in the fact that I had a full time job and a steady paycheck.  I looked at my employer as the provider and felt secure.  I knew exactly when my paycheck would hit the bank.  But God is the ultimate provider; not me, not my employer, not my husband.

When I see the birds feeding, I think of God’s detailed provision.  When I see the wasp, I think about worry.  Does worry affect your ability to accept God’s provision for you? It really used to get in my way. We would receive a payment from a customer and I would breathe a sigh of relief and say to myself, “Okay that takes care of that, but what about this coming up?”  I could not accept a blessing from God without already starting to worry about the next need.

I could not bask in the blessing because that wasp was there. I could not savor the nectar. The “wasp” of worry drove me crazy. I still have my moments here and there, but worry does not have a hold on me like it has in the past. I don’t agree with everything Leo Buscaglia wrote, but I do like this quote,”Worry never robs tomorrow of its sorrow, it only saps today of its joy.” 

If you had asked me 6 months ago to put a picture on the internet of me, in my bathing suit with no make up, I would have looked at you like you were crazy! But soon I will be splashing it all over on several sites.  Picture number three was the winner. 

Votes from email, messages, and comments were as follows:  

Picture number one – 2 votes

Picture number two – 8 votes

Picture number three – 12 votes

Thanks to all who voted, because I would have used picture number one.  Isn’t that funny?

Now someone needs to update so I can comment using my new picture!