Dinner Greetings Dear Friends of the Fellowship of the Blog,

_______

Click the Microphone below to listen to
Marjorie read the Come and Dine blog!

______________

As I write to you today, I thought I would first ask you this question: What do you consider the most important piece of furniture in your home?  There are probably many good reasons for your choice.

However, I’d like to tell you what has always been the most important in our Decker home – the dinner table!  It’s been the focal point of family life “togetherness” for many years, and what stories it could tell!  It has also been well baptized with our singing the pre-meal chorus: “Come and Dine.”

I’m just about as passionate about gathering my family around the table as the legendary King Arthur was, with his Round Table full of gallant knights.  Of course, my five “knights” were more experienced at household escapades than at Arthur’s knights’ cavalcades.  But the young Decker “knights” could leap to pursue, shouting “CHARGE!” when necessary.  For example: One evening, after singing “Come and Dine,” and as Dale gave thanks for our food (all eyes closed in prayer which made the following heist possible), our five-year old neighbor boy, Leslie, darted through our open door.  In a flash, he snatched a chicken drumstick from Dale’s plate and fled back to his nearby farm.  What a daring raid he made as he ran with his purloined poultry prize, the Decker knights charging hard after him (We love Leslie to this day, and hope he reads this.  He was the reason for “one-eye-open” prayers thereafter…haha!)

Tradition behind today’s rhyme links Miss Muffet with the daughter of Dr. Thomas Muffet, named Patience Muffet.  Dr. Thomas was an entimologist who, along with a keen interest in spiders, wrote a book entirely in verse called “The Silk Worms and Their Flies.” He died in 1604.  The Christian Mother Goose Rock-A-Bye Bible highlights “Little Miss Muffet” giving thanks for her food.

It’s a lovely thing to hear young children pray at the table.  It can be surprisingly unrelated to food, too!  I remember when our youngest son, Keith (who now designs and maintains this blog site), was three-years of age and prayed over our breakfast one day.  This was his prayer: “Please, Lord, help me to whistle real good.”  And that’s just what The Lord did!  Through the years, we’ve loved to hear Keith’s flute-like whistle.  It would always bring tears to his Dad’s eyes when Keith whistled his favorites, it was so beautiful.

Which brings me back to my passion for bringing the whole family together at the dinner table.  I know that isn’t easy in today’s hectic mode of living, but it’s worth the effort.  It’s a time for listening and laughing together; a time of fellowship and sharing our burdens; a time to encourage and share ideas, hopes and dreams – face-to-face fellowship and a tasty meal – nourishment for the body and the soul.

The Lord Jesus loved to dine with his friends and followers, even making preparations for “the last supper.”  To me, one of the most revealing acts of His loving care for humanity is recorded on the morning of His Resurrection.  (John 21:9-14)

Here, The Lord of Glory is risen from the dead!  The power of His Resurrection exceeded even that of His act of Creation.  He is standing on the sea shore, calling out to tired disciples, “Children, have you any meat?”  Such revealing, great-hearted thoughtfulness for his weary friends who had worked in vain, fishing all night.

You would think at this Resurrection morning (the Day that time and eternity had waited for) that Jesus would be proclaiming His conquering of death, His victory over Satan and sin, His Lord of lords and King of kings royal Sonship.  And all of this accompanied by an adoring Heavenly host of angels following Him.  No, instead His concern is for the disciples’ need of breakfast.  So He had prepared “a fire of coals there, and fish laid thereon, and bread.”  And what was the proclamation of Jesus on that glorious resurrection morning?  “Come and dine!”

The One Who is the Bread of Life and the Living Water, does not forget our need of daily bread.  What majestic condescension to a lost world He came to save!  What utter foolishness not to believe in such a loving Savior!

Towards that evening, we find Jesus walking from Jerusalem to Emmaus.  Along the way, he joins two travelers who tell Him of the amazing events in Jerusalem that weekend, concerning the death and resurrection of Jesus of Nazareth.

Then – what a fantastic privilege those two travelers received.  A “Through the Bible” exposition by the Author!  The Lord Himself, “….beginning at Moses and all the prophets, expounded unto them in all the scriptures the things concerning Himself.”  (Luke 24:27)

Yet, they didn’t know it was Jesus.  It was at their dinner table in Emmaus, as He took bread and blessed it, and gave it to them, that their eyes were opened, “and they knew Him.”  Then Jesus vanished.  They exclaimed, “Did not our heart burn within us, while He talked with us by the way, and while He opened to us the scriptures?”

I would say, there’s no need for note-taking when your heart burns with the presence of Jesus.  And you see what unexpected revelation can come at the dinner table!

In May 2008, our “Come and Dine” chorus was especially dear and touching to us.  Our beloved father and husband, Dale, was within hours of Heaven’s gates opening wide for him.  Although he was so weak (he could no longer eat) he whispered that he wanted to come and sit at the table.  And there, he whispered with us once more:

It was at Dale’s memorial service that Keith’s childhood prayer really blessed his Dad.  He whistled Dale’s favorites, “Amazing Grace” and “Danny Boy.”  Even an angel’s performance couldn’t have pleased Dale more.

May “Come and Dine” be welcome at your family’s table.

Blessings and Cheerio! for now,

∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

Christian Mother Goose®

————————————–

Shop for Christian Mother Goose® products and Gift Sets by clicking on this link:

Ahoy dear friends of the Fellowship of the Blog,

It’s the Fellowship of the Blog Ship!  I’m pulling alongside with warmest greetings and a ship-load of thanks for your friendly visits and welcome comments.

Looking at Bobby Shaftoe’s rhyme puts me in mind of the first time I left Liverpool, England, for America.  I was a young bride, filled with indescribable emotion as the ship pulled away from the shores of my native land.  Would I ever return to see my family again?  But, through her tears, my wise mother said, “Your place is with your husband, love, but never forget the land of your birth.”

The first test of that advice came the last night at sea, when the ship’s American orchestra gave a wonderful concert for the one thousand passengers.  Their final musical selection was the tune to the British National Anthem.  So, immediately, hundreds of Britishers rose to their feet, loudly singing “God Save The King!”  Surprisingly, it’s also the same tune to America’s “My Country, ‘Tis of Thee,” which brought hundreds of Americans to their feet singing their own patriotic song at the same time.  In spite of the vocal chaos, both sides hung on to their own rendition, right down to the last word, as the band played on!  The hilarious peals of laughter that followed brought both sides of the Atlantic to a happy truce.

I have sailed across the Atlantic several times since then.  And although I now travel back to Liverpool by air, I’ve always remained partial to the ships that sail the seas.

In 1761, a paraphrase of “Bobby Shaftoe’s” rhyme became popular as an election song.  Supporters of a Robert Shafto successfully sang him all the way into Parliament with its message.

In that same year of 1761, a little “Bobby Shaftoe” with a missionary message was born in England – William Carey, the man who would become known as the “Father of Modern Missions.”

Carey rose from a humble shoemaker to flourish under God’s gifting into a brilliant linguist and translator in India.  His burning passion was to “Go into all the world….” with the Gospel of Christ, even though Foreign missions were unheard of in his day.

Many other “Bobby Shaftoe’s” followed Carey’s brave and sacrificial example, including Hudson Taylor (1832-1905) who founded the China Inland Mission.  When Hudson was five he would often say, “When I am a man, I mean to be a missionary and go to China.” It was on a ship from Liverpool that Hudson Taylor, age 21, sailed for China and for Christ in 1853.

On the same trip home to Liverpool mentioned in the “Misty, Moisty Morning” Blog (Feb. archives), my brother, Jimmy, suggested taking Kevin, Keith and me to look at big ships in dry dock.  We drove past the landing stage where Hudson Taylor sailed away, then on up the Dock Road where a huge ship lay in dry dock.  It was a pleasant late afternoon when Jimmy parked his brand new Vauxhall car.  There wasn’t another car in sight.

My two young boys were fascinated looking down at a massive ship having barnacles scraped off.  Just as Jimmy was explaining how barnacles cling fast to the bottom of ocean-going ships, reducing the ships’ speed with their dead weight, a terrible crash grabbed our attention.  On that desolate road, a cyclist had come racing by, raking Jimmy’s new Vauxhall with a deep gouge from stem to stern!  The cyclist was badly cut but refused medical help.  So Jimmy kindly straightened the buckled wheels of the bike while I packed handkerchiefs around the cyclist’s bleeding neck.  Finally, with a “Thank you very much,” he wobbled away.

Then, oh no! Jimmy saw the damage to his car.  All he could say was, “To think I was run over by a rotten bicycle!”  We forgot the barnacles and went home.  Some consolation, however, was soon to come.

The next Monday, Jimmy arrived at his Prudential office to find a disconsolate fellow worker waiting to tell his sad story.  He had just bought a new Vauxhall, too, and parked it nearby on the Dale Street slope.  As he locked the car, an elderly woman with a push-cart full of fruit came racing out of control down the slope.  She crashed into the back of his car, shook her head sadly, and said, “I’m awfully sorry, love – but, here, have a bunch,” then handed him a bunch of grapes and rolled off down the street.

Well, what can two insurance men do?  There’s no coverage on bicycles or push carts!  Given a few days, all was reclaimed by a good laugh over tea.

The great faith chapter of Hebrews twelve says: “…Seeing we also are encompassed about with so great a cloud of witnesses, let us lay aside every weight….”  So, whether bicycle bashes, push-cart smashes, or burdensome barnacles are hindering your mission, vision, or dream, there’s a gallery of cheerleaders – including Carey & Taylor

who know there’s victory in Jesus. Be encouraged in The Lord’s still waters today.

Smooth sailing!

Blessings and Cheerio! for now,

∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

Christian Mother Goose®

————————————–

Shop for Christian Mother Goose® products and Gift Sets by clicking on this link:

Hello again Dear Blog-Nog Friends,

As I sit here writing today’s blog, through my window I can see our electric security light pole towering over the back lawn.  Currently perched on top, I can see our regular crow “scout” waiting to signal his buddies as soon as any “al fresco” bits of food and popcorn appear from the Decker kitchen.  In the meantime, he’s eyeing Mr. rabbit, who seems content munching on a carrot from yesterday’s Decker menu.  Mr. Squirrel is halfway up the pole,  seemingly arrested by the chirping of a newcomer bird.  With beaks and heads bowed, it appears we have our own creature “See you at the pole” prayer gathering.

The cheery, comforting presence of our 30-foot-tall light pole comes on daily, automatically at dusk, and shines through the night for only $8.35 a month!  The light pole, hole-digging and transformer all came at no charge for installation.  What a bargain!  Such are the generous ways of our rural electric cooperative, which has even made distributions to members for 35 consecutive years!  How’s that for old-time, honest, well-run American enterprise!

My husband, Dale, put it well when he said, “Some people wish for the stars; East Central Electric gave us the moon – on a pole!”

Today’s original old rhyme was actually a riddle revealing a candle (a major source of light in 1645) when a version of this rhyme appeared in a manuscript.  Around that time, another light was shining: the ”Children of Light.”  This was the first documented  name of the Quaker Christian movement in England, founded by George Fox (1624-1691).  Today, we know the Quakers as simply the “Friends.”

For many years, I didn’t know that my maternal grandfather in England was a Quaker.  I wonder what he would have thought of his American great-grandson who, at age five, sat with me in my mother’s Church of England service.  It was very, very quiet.  Then, shattering the silence, an unmistakable young American voice shouted, “Mommy, is this the church of the living God?”  Oops!  “Out of the mouths of babes.…”

Onward now, with the Christian Mother Goose version of Little Nancy Etticoat:

Thinking of our “moon “ light pole, and Little Nancy  Etticoat, brought to my mind a parade of thoughts on light and darkness.

Our light pole begins to glow brighter and brighter as the darkness creeps in, and in the full black of night it shines at its best.  It doesn’t have to shovel out the darkness.  It dispels it by shining.

And like little Nancy, children have an aversion to the dark, as was apparent in our own small boys’ reaction to a very dark incident which, after all these years, still makes me smile.  One evening, I was rub-a-dub-scrubbing three wee laddies all together in the bathtub.  (One of those short-cuts mothers invent for time management.)  Suddenly, a crashing lightning bolt knocked out our electric transformer.  Instantly, we were in pitch black mode.  A panicked little voice squeaked out, “Mommy, are we dead? Are we dead?!” “We’d better not be if it’s this dark where we went,” I laughed, while hanging on to the baby.

Darkness is definitely not the destination of God’s “children of light.” (John 12:36)  Heaven is God’s Kingdom of light, as Revelation 21:23 tells us:  “And the city had no need of the sun, neither of the moon, to shine in it: for the glory of God did lighten it, and The Lamb is the light thereof.”

While Heaven is our home of light, it is only the light of Christ that can dispel the creeping darkness of this present world.  So He bids His own precious “light poles” to “let your light shine” with the Gospel of God’s love and grace for the whole world, through “…our Savior Jesus Christ, Who hath abolished death, and brought life and immortality to light through the gospel.” (II Timothy 1:10)

The Apostle Paul, in the face of scorn and persecution gave the uncompromising cry, “I am not ashamed of the Gospel of Christ, it is the power of God unto salvation.” (Romans 1:18)  Radiating the love and light of Christ, Paul “Never tried to hide it/All of Rome had spied it.”  Although small of physical stature, what a Matterhorn of a “light pole” was this follower of Jesus!

Throughout the ages, light has always been a beacon of hope, help and rescue – from tiny candles to giant light bulbs.  And speaking of light bulbs, the biggest “light bulb” I ever saw up close was 70 feet tall – and it could fly!  Actually, it was our Christian Mother Goose hot air balloon.  And like little Nancy’s light, the whole town spied it when our son, Kevin, (a hot air balloon pilot) flew it through the Western Colorado skies.

I remember a time when my husband Dale and I were returning home from my dear mother’s memorial service in England.  It was in the midst of a blinding winter storm in Denver, and our plane barely made a safe landing there.  But what made our hearts jump more than the landing was this television announcement broadcast on the local Denver news while we waited for the last leg of our flight home:

“Grand Junction hot air balloon pilot, Kevin Decker, was last seen flying his balloon towards Grand Mesa in Western Colorado.  His chase crew was unable to track a landing in the mountainous area.”

Our night flight took us over the Grand Mesa to reach home.  Those miles were filled with our prayers for Kevin’s safety.  Psalm 128:8 was a promise we had claimed many times raising four adventurous boys.  And as I looked down upon those dense, craggy mountains below, I felt an assurance Kevin was safe down there somewhere.  Dale and I kept looking for a flickering light amongst the crowded peaks.

And while prayers ascended, Kevin had safely  descended and taken down the large fabric balloon.  Then he began rationing bursts of 8-foot flames shot from the propane burner every few minutes, hoping the light would bring rescue.  Hours into the night, with propane running low, the beacon of light was seen.  Praise The Lord for answered prayer and those who “saw the light.”

I thank God for the “light poles of Jesus” who have helped light my way through fifty years of Christian pilgrimage – among whom are the special Little Nancy Etticoats.

Keep shining! Someone close needs your light!

Cheerio for now,

∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

Christian Mother Goose®

————————————–

Shop for Christian Mother Goose® products and Gift Sets by clicking on this link:

Sunny Summer Salutes, Dear Blog-Nog Friends,

Today’s old rhyme was actually one of numerous market day rhymes, where villagers set out off to buy pantry potpourri, from a pig to a plum bun and the miscellany of mankind.

My sister, Sadie, and I always went to the open-air market at Abergele, North Wales, whenever I went back home for a visit.  So, today, here in Oklahoma, the fine bone china egg cups (holding our fine local Fisher eggs), are happy reminders of those market days of fun and bargain hunting.

The words Wibbleton to Wobbleton roll off the tongue in playful fashion, so I rendered this old rhyme as a parable in the Christian Mother Goose series. Here it is with a telling question at the end.

The dawning of Wobbleton could fit very nicely in Genesis 3.  And it appears the town didn’t take long to arise.  Adam and Eve quickly became the first residents of Wobbleton when they wobbled in unbelief, choosing to believe the words of the tempter (Satan) instead of the words of The Lord God. (Unbelief always makes us wobble)  Paradise was lost, and Adam became Governor of Wobbleton instead.

Wobbleton sat perched on the edge of a great divide.  And so began the long line of citizen wobblers huddled there, afraid to cross the bridge The Lord God had mercifully provided.  “It might not hold,” they said, as they viewed the fairer hills and fields on the other side.  And as their doubt increased, so did their wobbling.

Nevertheless, a handful of men in Wobbleton began to call upon The Lord, and set out one day., albeit in fear and trembling to cross the bridge.  The canyon was terrifying, but the bridge held strong and secure.  Hallelujah!  The town of Wibbleton was born.

Then, from that day to this, the Wibbletonians cross the bridge to rally the Wobbleton wobblers and sing to them on their way out of Wobbleton and across the bridge to the joyous town of Wibbleton.

It was known thereafter as, “The City which hath foundations, whose Builder and Maker is God.”

At this point we join the 1981 Oscar-winning film, “Chariots of Fire.”  My son, Kevin and I watched it last week.  What a great movie featuring the true life story of the Scottish missionary/Olympian, Eric Liddell.  He was no wobbler! – on the mission field or the running track.

Eric was born in 1902 to veteran Scottish missionary parents, James and Mary Liddell in Tientsin, North China.  He was born to run!  A line from Chariots of Fire expressed this eloquently: “I believe God made me for a purpose.  He also made me fast!  And when I run I feel His pleasure.”

During his years at Edinburgh University, Scotland, he distinguished himself as Scotland’s  best sprinter, setting new records in spite of an unorthodox, awkward running style.  He was followed by adoring crowds who loved him not only for his “miracle” races, but also for his humility, sportsmanship and gentle nature.  On weekends he could be found sharing the Gospel of Christ with sports-loving men.

In 1924 the Olympics were to be held in Paris.  Eric Liddell set his sights to be on Great Britain’s Olympic team for the 100 and 200 meter race  events.  He won both races in the trials held in England; even setting a new British record that held for 35 years.

After the Olympic team was announced, newspapers all over Great Britain were filled with stories of Liddell as Britain’s best hope for the coveted 100-meter gold medal.

And here’s where the heart of the film, “Chariots of Fire,” comes in; as well as the test of “wobbling”for the heart of young Liddell.

All his life he believed and honored Sunday as a day of rest and a day to reverence fellowship with God.  The Scottish athletic community and his coach knew he did not run races on Sunday.  But the 100-meter Paris heat was set for a Sunday.  His heart sank, but he did not wobble.  He would not run for the prized Olympic gold on Sunday,

Despite British intervention, the Olympic rules stood firm – so did Eric in his Christian belief.  No wobbling here – no even in the face of harsh public condemnation for “letting his country down.”

Now in national rejection, Eric was asked if he would run the 400-meter race set for a Friday.  This race was certainly not Eric’s specialty, but he eagerly accepted and managed to inch into the finals.

At 7 p.m. Friday, the stadium was packed with an excited crowd there to see the American runner, Horatio Fitch, bring home the gold.  He held the new world record.  Six runners drew numbers for their lane position. Eric drew the undesirable number six outside lane, but in his pocket was a note from the British team masseur: “In the old Book it says:  ‘He who honours Me, I will honour.’  Wishing you the best of success.”

The runners took position.  The pistol fired.  Five of the world’s best quarter-milers shot forward, plus one untrained newcomer to that distance.  All eyes were on the deftly-styled Fitch, but it was the unorthodox-styled Eric Liddell who burst through the finish line to win, setting a new world record of 47.6 seconds, and leaving Fitch in a distant second place.  The crowd went wild!  Liddell had done it again!

They didn’t know that at the height of his running career, he would soon be dedicating the rest of his life as a missionary/teacher to China.  The greatest race of all was before him.

Eric Liddell died at age 43 in a Japanese internment camp in China, during World War II; beloved and greatly mourned by thousands of Chinese souls he had gently guided across the Jesus Bridge to that “City whose Builder and Maker is God.”  God was waiting to hand him the gold.

And for now, dear readers, whatever course may tempt us to wobble in this wobbly world, look up!  “God is our refuge and strength, a very  present help in trouble.” (Psalm 46:1)

Because Jesus is the “forever” Bridge over all troubled waters, let’s walk that way together in His blessings.

Cheerio for now,

∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

Christian Mother Goose®

————————————–

Shop for Christian Mother Goose® products and Gift Sets by clicking on this link:

Hello again dear friends of the Fellowship of the Blog,

I’ve gone fishing!  I never thought I’d say those words again, after my misadventures in trout fishing. But today, I’m bobbing about in my blog-boat on the Internet Ocean, fishing for Jesus.

Have you ever noticed how many times in Scripture we find Jesus walking by the seashore, teaching by the seashore, and blessing the multitudes who came to Him by the Galilee seashore.  So many times Jesus and the sea are pictured together that He could be called the “Seashore Savior.”  And, again, it is Jesus walking by the sea of Galilee where He calls His first disciples (two fishermen) Peter and Andrew, to “…Follow Me, and I will make you fishers of men.“  In a great step of faith, the two fishermen left the source of their living immediately.  But how do you catch men, and where is the sea for such a specialty?

Such questions are asked in this rhyme from the Christian Mother Goose Rock-A-Bye Bible:

In the waters of the five great oceans of the world, the Atlantic, Pacific, Indian, Arctic and Antarctic (Southern), there are marvels of God’s magnificent, creative artistry that leave us cheering in praise and awe of such an Almighty Creator.  From oyster pearls to playful dolphins, colorful coral reefs, gargantuan Galapagos turtles and giant whales, there’s no end to the fascinating creatures who live in the sea.

Yet, there is another sea that Jesus looked out upon:  the great Sea of Humanity – filled with a treasure so dear to the heart of God, that when it was lost in the deep ocean of sin’s dark waters, the Son of God Himself came to save that treasure and bring it safely back to Heaven’s shores.  It is to this Sea of Humanity that Jesus called Peter and Andrew to “go fishing!”  But it takes God’s own fishing gear to catch the heart of men, women, boys and girls.  Psalm 18:16 says: “He drew me out of many waters.“  Jeremiah 31:3 tells us how: “…”Yea, I have loved thee with an everlasting love: therefore with loving kindness have I drawn thee.“  God’s fishing line is His love: strong, unbreakable, everlasting, and from an endless reel which is cast into our troubled waters from the Hand of Jesus.  He guarantees He will bring us safely to shore.

That fishing line of God’s love reached a long way to bring me to the shores of America, where Jesus gently drew me in, then even let me go fishing with Him for more treasured souls.

Commercial fishing was big business in the seaport city of Liverpool, England, where I grew up.  So it would seem I might have tried my hand at least once at the noble skill of fishing.  Not at all – that sport awaited my married life in America, years later.  But gathering cockles and mussels along the River Mersey seashore always made for fun, frolic and a good batch of shellfish to take home.

Still, living in a seaport, I grew up on a fish-laden diet, with a menu of everything from plaice, cod, fluke, kippers (herring) and salmon, to fish-and-chips and soft-bellied bloaters!  (The last one may sound horrible, but being soft-bellied meant it was also called the “poor man’s caviar,” from the abundant roe it contained.)

Sunday morning’s fish was always an unnamed salt fish, with the tail portion being the most choice.  That serving was designated by my mother as indisputably, and without question, my father’s, and it was heavily guarded by her to make sure of its delivery to Dad’s plate.  However, that never stopped me from asking for the tail, in endless hope, as I grew up. It was not until my Dad passed away – suddenly, and I made the trip home, that the weekend I arrived from Colorado, and came downstairs Sunday morning – that I saw the symbol of honor had passed to my plate – the salt fish tail!  It was a touching, bittersweet moment, eased by my mother’s smile remembering all my childhood pleadings for what I really knew was my Dad’s own privileged portion.

So, it remained for my Colorado husband, Dale, to attempt to teach his city-born wife the perplexing pleasures of fishing in the “trout-filled” streams of the Rockies.  Beware of that term “trout-filled,” for if those streams were filled when we got there, they were still filled when we left!

Our meager catch never even made a dent in their elusive numbers.  But Dale went on happily tying his own fishing flies, full of Galilean-style miracle fishing dreams, every time we went out to those trout-filled streams.  The scenery near the Black Canyon was gorgeous and, since our lines usually lay un-nibbled by the fish, we could bask in the sunshine while pondering the mysterious virtues of having the patience of Job that fishing required.

In all my fishing days I caught only two fish, neither of which were reeled in by “traditional” methods. The first time Dale took me fishing he coached me in the fine art of “casting.”  I leaned back and threw out my line with all 108 pounds of my British might behind it.  My attempt was wobbly, so Dale shook his head and said:  “No, sweetheart, not  that way, try again.”  I reeled my line back in, and presto! – a  rainbow trout was dangling on the end!  We laughed so hard we must have scared the rest of the fish.  The quote, “God can bless a blunder, but He can’t bless nothing!” fit that occasion perfectly.

With all due respect to Dale’s colorful, hand-tied fishing flies, the other fish I caught came from doing a typical womanly thing.  I snipped off a small piece of bright red corduroy from the inside of my jacket, and replaced Dale’s fly, just to see if it would fool the fish I’d been watching all afternoon. In a flash, he took the useless bait and became my fish number two.

For just a split second, I smiled and let myself wonder if it was really a small bite of red apple that Eve gave Adam.  I gave no answer when Dale asked, “What’s the funny smile for?”

Finally, to cast a net ’round my fishing stories, just this week, after all these years, I was given a fishing confession by Kevin, corroborated by Keith and Bradley (their Dad, who is now in Heaven, will have to sort things out up there).  On a 3-day fishing trip to the Grand Mesa, my dear husband and three brave sons produced nothing but three nibbles!  Meanwhile, I was eagerly waiting at home to admire and cook their bountiful catch. Upon their return, yes, I did admire and cook their lovely rainbow trout, never knowing they had just removed the price tag from the local fish market’s purchase before they came triumphantly through the door – what fibbers they were!

I think I should write a blog on “forgiveness!”  Do you agree?

May The Lord Jesus find many “fishers of men” in the good readers of The Fellowship of the Blog.

Good fishing and Cheerio!

∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

Christian Mother Goose®

————————————–

Shop for Christian Mother Goose® products and Gift Sets by clicking on this link:

A very good Independence Day to You, Friends of the Fellowship of the Blog,

My hearty thanks to those who have written to say you are forwarding our blog address on to your friends.  You are helping me keep my promise to my dear husband who encouraged me, as he stepped into Heaven, to “Keep on writing, my love; the whole world needs Jesus.”  Thank you for reading and sharing today’s Christian Mother Goose blog:

Anyone who has raised a young boy knows that if you put a trumpet in his hands he’ll soon wake everyone within earshot (if not the whole town!).  Having raised not one, but four young boys, I can see what a  “nuclear” asset they would have been, as willing trumpet-blasters, rallying help for Nehemiah’s great cause of re-building the walls of Jerusalem.

In the Old Testament book of Nehemiah, we find a great story of a Godly leader with a Godly mission.  In the 5th century B.C., at the same time that Plato was founding his institution of higher learning (the Academy in Athens), Nehemiah – a Jew – occupied a high and trusted position in the Persian King Artaxerxes I’s court.  He was the highly favored king’s cup-bearer.

Although far from his homeland, Nehemiah’s prayers continued for Jerusalem and his fellow Israelites.  One hundred years earlier, Babylon’s armies had destroyed Jerusalem and its walls – the walls which were a symbol of its strength and prosperity.  Over that century, Jerusalem’s affairs grew increasingly desolate, capped with deadly spiritual apathy.  And not a capable leader in sight – until Nehemiah.

When news of the appalling conditions of Jerusalem’s citizens reached Nehemiah, he rose up mightily in prayer, asking God to grant him favor with the king to go and re-build the Walls of Jerusalem.  Not only was Nehemiah given permission, the king appointed him governor over Jerusalem with authority to carry out his mission.  Such is the power of prayer to our faithful God!

In just 52 days, in spite of intense opposition, threats and mockery (sounds like today’s media), Nehemiah led the people to a victory for Jerusalem’s walls that had waited over 100 years to be re-built.  Built by an awakened people with a Godly leader who encouraged them: “In whatever place ye hear the sound of the trumpet, resort ye there unto us.  Our God will fight for us!”  (Nehemiah 4:20)  And God has never lost a fight!

And so they built with a stone in one hand and swords and shields in the other.  Even a young boy could “build” by blowing the trumpet.  (Perhaps there’s a “Jeremiah Obadiah” in your family today.)

As Governor for 12 years, Nehemiah refused a governor’s salary.  He did away with high interest.  At his own expense, he kept a table for 150 Jews at a time, who returned to Jerusalem from captivity.  What a statesman!  What a day of Independence for God’s people!

This week, flags and fireworks across America’s azure skies will celebrate our country’s own Independence Day of July 4th, 1776.  I remember after one particular July 4th, my mother came from England to visit us.

There was much for her to see in our vastly different lifestyle from what she knew in Liverpool.

To begin with, everything here seemed vastly bigger to her: the cars, roads, homes, refrigerators, even the tomatoes!  And look at the size of America itself!  Considering that England is just about the size of Western Colorado where we lived, you can understand her amazement.

Right off, our boys were thrilled that their Grandma Ainsborough loved sports, so Bradley’s High School cross-country meet made a scenic trip through the BIG mountains to Leadville.

It was the highest 2-mile cross-country run in the world at that time – over a BIG 10,000 feet of elevation.

So off we went, with mother faithfully adding to her American “BIG ” list.  Along the way, huge TV antennas and jumbo ice cream cones were added.

Continuing up the highway, we soon became part of a small “international incident” that occurred at a country fruit stand we had stopped at to buy tree-ripened pears – also beautiful and BIG.  Looking at the pears, my Mother just shook her head and proceeded to recite some of her “bigger” list to the friendly farmer.  He grinned at her Liverpool accent, and teased, “Well, Ma’am, what do you have in England that we don’t have here?”

Mother plucked off his cowboy hat, plopped it on her head, put one hand on her port-side hip, the other on her starboard side, and saucily quipped, “Personality!”

The “cross-country run” road trip brought even more laughter at the museum home of Leadville’s silver mine heiress, the “Unsinkable Molly Brown.”

Then we drove our car on a grueling ascent to the top of Independence Pass.  It was there that Mother’s laughter gave way to tears as we stood on the 12,095 foot summit.

Before us, we saw graves marked  “July 4th – Independence Day.”  We assumed they were pioneers, trying to cross this formidable mountain divide. “What kind of people were they?” Mother asked through her tears.  Then she whispered, “BIG and brave.”

The big and brave Founding Fathers of America knew another “Independence Pass” in Jerusalem, called Calvary.  They knew the kind of Person Who died there:  Jesus of Nazareth, the Son of God, the risen Savior of the world.

They knew the only lasting liberty for their new country was to build its foundations on the truth of God’s Word: “If the Son, therefore, shall make you free, ye shall be free indeed.” (John 8:36)

Yes, our nation has a “Birth Certificate” called The Declaration of Independence, with its Father – Almighty God, gratefully mentioned several times.  “Stand fast therefore in the liberty wherewith Christ hath made us free….” Galatians 5:1.

Jeremiah Obadiah is blowing the trumpet for us today.  It’s time to meet on the walls of America to rebuild, and to declare, our Christian foundation.  I’ll bring the crumpets; you bring the trumpets!

Many Freedom blessings,

Cheerio, for now….and keep singing “God Bless America”!

∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

Christian Mother Goose®

————————————–

Shop for Christian Mother Goose® products and Gift Sets by clicking on this link:

“Take Me Out to the Ball Game” Greetings to My Dear Friends of the Blog,

The great American season of baseball is in full swing (pardon the pun)!  And from diminutive Little League hopefuls to the giants of Major League fame, the baseball world is filled this summer with wild and wonderful stories – from the deserved and ubiquitous praise for last year’s number one draft pick, Stephen Strasburg, to the nobody-to-somebody feel good stories such as Daniel Nava.

Last week, though, a great inspirational story stirred all those who love the game. Our son, Keith (who manages and designs our CMG blog) couldn’t wait to phone us about baseball player Daniel Nava – unknown, unsung, and unbelievable at his first time up to bat for the Boston Red Sox.  With the bases loaded, Nava came to the plate for his major league debut at Fenway Park, swung at the first pitch – a fast ball – and hit a grand slam home run the first time he faced a Major League pitcher!  “It was so surreal, so special,” said Daniel’s father, Don Nava, who was in the stands with wife Becky. “We just believe that God touched our son and touched our family at that moment on one swing. And life has not been the same ever since.”

“His biggest quality is he’s a man of faith,” his father said. “His relationship with God is the most important thing in his life. He’s a man of God and everything in his life is run though that filter. Period. End of story. And then after that, baseball and everything else is in second place.  That’s a determining factor in Daniel’s life and that’s why he’s been so successful.”

Yet hardly a soul knew of the many naysayers, the disappointments and the set-backs that threatened to derail Daniel’s dream of playing big league baseball at Fenway.

What an amazing, dramatic moment for a player who, like Abraham of the Old Testament, “… against hope believed in hope….” (Romans 4:18) Abraham’s challenge of faith was God’s promise that he would bear a son (Isaac) at almost a hundred years of age.  Daniel Nava’s challenge was his small stature.  As a High School freshman he was only 4-feet, 8-inches tall, weighing only 70 pounds – but with a big baseball dream in his heart and quiet determination to someday play professional baseball.

“Ipsey Wipsey Spider” in my Christian Mother Goose Big Book, portrays what “inching” along will finally accomplish….

Like the Ipsey Wipsey Spider – inching along, literally, Daniel sprouted to 5-feet 5-inches, as he entered Santa Clara University.  After failing to make the baseball team, he became the team’s equipment manager (which included washing all the uniforms in a laundromat) because it kept him near the game he loved.  And in spite of getting cut from Santa Clara’s team, he later went on to a Junior College and played so well that Santa Clara took him back for his senior year where he hit an outstanding .395 in 54 games.

Upon graduation, he was not drafted, so the patient Daniel chose the lowly, independent Golden Baseball League, as he said, “trying anything to play somewhere.”  His steady, increasing batting performance won him the title of “Baseball America’s” top Independent League Prospect.  Yet, the doors of opportunity for advancement seemed to be getting heavier and even harder to open.

But as Abraham Lincoln once said, “I will prepare and someday my chance will come.”  That chance did come to the then 24-year old, 5-feet, 10-inches tall outfielder.  Boston bought his contract for merely one dollar!  What a bargain! And after a few years of stellar play in the minor leagues, Daniel’s dream came true!

Reading his interview, I was struck with his modesty and good-natured attitude towards the rejections and disappointments that constantly blocked his way.  Then came the last-minute call to substitute for an injured outfielder for the Red Sox.  And with one “gorgeous swing” he became part of Major League Baseball history!

Billy Sunday, the great American evangelist of the early 20th century, would smile at Daniel’s response to what he enjoyed doing in his spare time.  Daniel said, “I love playing the guitar, and I’m really connected to my church. My faith is really important to me.”  Billy Sunday, himself, had pitched professionally for the Chicago White Sox before turning to evangelism, and leading over a million souls to Christ.  At one Boston Revival he drew an overflow crowd of seventy thousand!

Within two years of Billy Sunday’s “promotion” to Heaven, another preacher named Billy came “from out of left field” – Billy Graham.  This Billy also originally wanted to be a professional ballplayer and actually played a few semi-pro games for ten to fifteen dollars each.  Then he went on to perform in the game of his life, preaching the Good News of the Gospel of The Lord Jesus Christ to the millions of precious souls saved at his crusades.

We thank God for the many baseball players who use their talent to show-case their Lord and live as a shining example to the admiring Little Leaguers and the Old Timers Association players – the two organizations for youth baseball.

Baseball legend, Bobby Richardson, was a great favorite.  I remember buying 100 Bobby Richardson evangelistic tracts each year to give to scores of O.T.A. boys.  It chronicled not only Bobby’s star-studded baseball career as second baseman for the New York Yankees, but also his personal testimony of his faith in Christ.

Years later, Bobby appeared with me in the Christian Mother Goose hot-air balloon at the Christian Booksellers Convention in Los Angeles.  What an enjoyable, dear Christian man!

Our boys played each summer in the Old Timers’ Association baseball league, or OTA as we called it, and then years later in Little League when we moved to a larger community.  OTA is much like Little League baseball, but OTA operates in rural America where we lived at the time in Colorado.  It was mainly the mothers who spent the hot summer months driving young boys many distances to play baseball.  Yes, you have to be a sports-loving mom to survive OTA summer baseball.

I remember returning home from shopping one day.  As I entered the living room, I found Kevin, age eleven, and Keith, age seven, hovering suspiciously against the far wall.  They were both wearing baseball mitts.  Then they took the bull by the horns and in great excitement showed me a perfect dent in the living room wall -  just the size of a baseball.

“Keith was pitching and threw a fast ball into the wall, and he’s only seven!” Kevin exclaimed proudly.

“What!” I exclaimed, “Keith has the velocity to pitch the ball twenty feet and put a dent in the drywall.  Wow!  And he’s only seven!”  I was as excited as they were.  Never mind the dent.  We were impressed by Keith’s left arm!  So off they went to see the coach who had Keith try out, enlisting him right away as a pitcher for Kevin’s team, the Expos.  Kevin backed him up at shortstop.  The dent could wait, or should we save it as a souvenir? Kevin and Keith went on to do very well in OTA, Little League and beyond.

Another more tender story of OTA days, is one I call “Bradley’s brown bag of faith.”  Bradley was on an OTA team for 9-year-olds that had been picked via a television selection.  He had garnered the shortstop position.  From where we lived, however, it meant driving a 120-mile roundtrip to all the practices and games several times a week.  I have to say it again: only a sports-loving mom would add such a schedule to an already full household of demands.

So off we went – Mom, Bradley and baby Keith, who was only 18 months old at that time.  And daily, the miles grew longer; the summer grew hotter; and baby Keith grew heavier to carry.  Finally, even a sports-loving mom had to face reality.  It was all too much to continue.  The grueling trek would have to stop.  When I told him that the next day would be the last trip, Bradley was broken-hearted (so was I, looking at him).  “And we’re undefeated,” he whispered.

On the Friday I loaded the station wagon with the usual baby supplies and picnic food for the day, Bradley sat in the back clutching a big brown grocery bag stuffed full of something.  “What’s in the bag?” I asked.  “Clothes – someone might keep me, so I can play.” a tearful voice answered.  I could have wept.

Later, after practice, I explained to the coach’s wife the reason for Bradley’s withdrawal.  She was astonished to hear how far we had been driving, and within minutes she and the coach offered a solution.  They would love to have Bradley stay with them to finish the season.  Their own two boys were on the team, too, so three happy teammates ran to the car to get the “brown bag of faith,” – “…the substance of things hoped for….” (Hebrews 11:1)

And the happy summer ending was that they finished undefeated, with Bradley capping a triple play to seal the win.

Now to finish – dear reader, all of us are in the real game of life.  All will step up to the plate to face the blinding speed of sin’s fastball – low and inside!  We may get on base, but we’ll never reach “home plate” without Jesus batting us in.  Two thousand years ago He appeared in the real World Series as our Substitute, ripping apart the deadly force of sin’s fastball, crushing a victorious “grand slam” over the daunting deep center field wall of humanity, to bring us in safely as we “cross” home plate.

Heaven is cheering each one who stays on the narrow path around the bases of life! (Luke 15:10)

Batter up, Blog-Nog friends, and Play Ball!

Cheering for you,

∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

Christian Mother Goose®

————————————–

Shop for Christian Mother Goose® products and Gift Sets by clicking on this link:

Good Tidings My Dear Friends of the Blog on this Sunny Day,

Just think, we are receiving all the wonderful benefits of Vitamin ‘D’ – free!  Brought to us at the speed of light by Fusion Express from 93 million miles away, courtesy of our Creator God’s miracle sun!

Just the other day, in a very old book, I read a beautiful passage about the sun, written by William Law (1686-1761) a Cambridge professor and English minister and writer: “Never rise without saluting the rising sun in the Name of God, as if it had just been created, and sent up into your sky to let you see to serve God and your neighbor for another day.”  What inspiring treasures we find in the writings of these great authors of the Faith.

While William Law was writing such Christian books as An Appeal to All Who Doubt the Truths of The Gospel, the general English public of the 1700’s was singing the popular words to the old nursery rhyme, “There was a Jolly Miller who lived by the River Dee.”

Actually, there had been a mill on the bridge of the River Dee at Chester since the eleventh century – but the old Dee Mill of Jolly Miller fame burned down in May, 1895, one year after the last descendant of the legendary miller died.

The beautiful small city of Chester is not far from where I grew up in England.  The graceful, stone Old Dee Bridge dates back to 1387.  Little did I know then, standing on the old bridge, that someday in America the Jolly Miller and the River Dee would find their way into the rhymes and stories of the Christian Mother Goose books I would write.

Here is the “Jolly Miller” from my first book:

It was King Solomon who wrote in Ecclesiastes 11:1 the words, “Cast thy bread upon the waters: for thou shalt find it after many days.”

He was encouraging generosity, especially to the poor and needy.  He pictured the acts of compassion, kindness and benevolence as an adventure, cast upon “the waters of need.”

And even as a ship returns after long voyages and ports of call, the bread cast upon the waters would also return to its home port.  And what stories of blessings it would bring.

I’m sure many of you reader-friends out in Blog-land know of times when someone cast bread upon the waters of your need.  It may have been a contribution of time, talent or treasure.  Every hamlet and city holds such stories – if we only knew.

As for our own small town, I’ll mention just a few.  There was the Jeep given  to a missionary friend in a primitive, mountainous country, who had only a bicycle for transport.  The Jeep saved her life in the revolution that ensued….  A commercial oven someone gave to a small start-up bakery, aptly named The Jolly Miller….  The senior citizen who gave free baby-sitting for a single mom to hold down a job.…  The month’s worth of choice groceries that, unexpectedly, filled an empty pantry – King Solomon would be proud.  But here’s a rather humorous personal tale:

It happened when we moved to another house in Western Colorado.  I was sad when I had to leave my dining room chandelier behind me, and the new house didn’t have one.  Then one day I received an envelope addressed to me without the sender’s name.  It contained two hundred dollars in cash.  It was in the depths of an icy Colorado winter.

Later that day I phoned Anne, my English friend, and found that, as sick as she was, she was determined to keep a speaking engagement over a hundred miles away.  She planned to drive through the hazardous wintry conditions, rather than let down a Christian Women’s Conference in Southern Colorado.  I knew better than to try to change her mind.

Looking at the cash in the envelope, I had a plan.  I phoned the local private air service which assured me they did indeed fly a small plane to Anne’s destination – and at a perfect arrival time, too.  The cost was 160 dollars and everything worked out fine.

A few days later, I took the remaining forty dollars out of the envelope and noticed a little note that simply said, “For a chandelier.”  Oh, dear….My good intentions had spoiled someone’s chandelier gift.  Or had it?

That evening, I drove to a department store, just to look at their chandeliers.  They were mostly 200 dollars and up.  And I didn’t even like the designs.  However, I asked if there were any other designs perhaps in the warehouse.  The kindly lady clerk took me with her to have a look.  Way up high, covered with dust, were three boxes.  I could see from the illustrations on the sides of the boxes that they looked very promising.  So we carried them to the computer to check the prices.  I was stunned when she said, “Ten dollars each, plus tax.”  “Please check again,” I gasped – but they still rang up at ten dollars!

“Probably because they’ve been off the shelf a long time,” she announced knowingly.  I bought all three and still had a few dollars left!

Still, I needed only one chandelier.  The next week, while visiting a Christian bookstore, I heard our friend, the manager, say he wished he had a chandelier for his home remodeling job.  Right then, I cast chandelier number two upon the waters.  Then, a few days later, number three was sent sailing to a little house in the country where it fulfilled a lonely pioneer lady’s dream.

How that anonymous sender’s chandelier “bread” had multiplied!

On a higher, more noble note than chandeliers, I think of those devoted, compassionate men and women, who left home and country, to be cast upon the waters that took them to far off foreign lands to share the True Bread of Life – The Lord Jesus Christ.

Time and again we read in the Bible that “Jesus had compassion on” – and filled the needs of: the hungry multitude; the leper; the blind man; even resurrecting the bereaved widow’s dead son.  On and on He …”went about doing good.” (Acts 10:38) – all the way to Calvary.

And there, on the Cross, He cast Himself upon the sea of humanity – the True Bread of Life God gave to save and fill every need of this fallen, helpless world.

The banquet of Heaven awaits all who are hungry and Jesus is calling, “Come and dine!”

Blessings in Him,

∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

And a very Happy Father’s Day to every special person called “Dad.”

Christian Mother Goose®

————————————–

Shop for Christian Mother Goose® products and Gift Sets by clicking on this link:

Dear Friends of the Fellowship of the Blog,

Today’s particular choice of Christian Mother Goose rhymes is because of a Harley Davidson motorcycle that roared up alongside of our car at a stop light last evening.

The sturdy young man, clothed in leather, looked full of purpose; as if on some gallant mission.  While the rest of the traffic fidgeted, he remained resolutely focused straight ahead on his goal.  He may have been a local cowboy accustomed to the dust and grime of an Oklahoma cattle ranch, but in contrast, his chrome-plated Harley absolutely glistened with the immaculate authority of a true “Knight of the road.”

Then, first out of the shoot as the light turned green, the leather-clad Knight showed his loyalty to his country:  a Purple Heart stood out on his license plate and, along with his black marine boots, spoke of exploits for the cause of freedom.  As the Harley roared off into the misty, moisty evening, I immediately thought of the old rhyme, “One Misty, Moisty Morning,” and that this 1680 A.D. rhyme should be the centerpiece for the “Fellowship of the Blog” today.

A misty, moisty morning comes often in England, especially in the North West where I grew up.  Weather vanes were interesting, but for children, it was more fun to check old Mrs. Reilly’s man and woman weather house.  It was a cuckoo clock, with a cheery woman coming out indicating good weather, and a forlorn man coming out for just the opposite.  Especially in summer, it was the neighborhood children’s ritual to knock politely on Mrs. Reilly’s open door and ask, “Please, Mrs. Reilly, is the woman out today?”  She would let us peek in to see for ourselves what answer the magical weather clock would give.  At least we thought it must be magical, until we learned about barometers!

Here in America, all four of our boys knew of the rainy day rhymes of my childhood in Liverpool.  However, as Colorado was so consistently sunny, the word “umbrella” just hibernated in their vocabulary.  Suddenly, that word was important, except that it was slightly enlarged to “gumbrella”  by four-year-old Keith when he learned half of the family was going to England:  Kevin, Keith and a little-bit-homesick Mom.  He insisted  on taking his very own gumbrella and couldn’t wait to walk in the Liverpool rain.

Upon our arrival, a strange, but marvelous thing happened. The rain disappeared! (Mrs. Reilly’s weather woman must have been locked outside the clock!)  For nearly three weeks, Keith’s gumbrella remained crisp and dry. And not willing to miss the chance to get it wet, he kept it opened up everywhere we went – even on the top deck of the double-decker bus, where it quickly cleared the way for his choice of seat right at the front.  Then, to his dismay, our last day dawned with still no rain in sight.  But, filled with hope right up to the last minute, Keith stood out in his Grandmother’s garden with his gumbrella opened up to the sky.  My mischievous brother, Jimmy, crept up behind him with a bucket of water, and down came the rain drops on a happy boy’s little gumbrella. Ah…sweet satisfaction… a gumbrella baptism!   Now, we could all go back home to Colorado.

Later, I heard that a misty, moisty morning returned the very next day – even as the “Fellowship of the Blog” now returns to our rhyme. I am intrigued why an “old man clothed all in leather” would venture out on such a slippery day.  Yet, with no Harley to speed him on his way; with age against him; regardless of the weather, this 1680 A.D. Knight of the road sets out with just a small child to encourage him on his way.  (What a beautiful picture of the loving bridge between the old and the young!)  But what mission of purpose, passion and courage had thrust him out in the rain?

Considering this rhyme is from the 17^th century, when the King James Version of the Bible was published in English in 1611, I like to think our leather-clad, 1680 Knight had rejoiced to learn the words of Jesus in John 8:32 – “And ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free.”   The Holy Scriptures were at last in the language of the common Englishman – the dream of the martyred translator William Tyndale.  Even an old man in the leather clothing of the laboring class could understand and know that, “If the Son therefore  shall make you free, you shall be free indeed.” (John 8:36)  Freed unto the freedom of love, joy, peace, kindness, courage and purpose; all found in the Gift of eternal life through faith in our Lord Jesus Christ.

Was this the truth that thrust our elderly hero out in the rain, on a mission for the Gospel of Christ?  Was it a similar mission to that of a modern day “Misty, Moisty, Morning” elderly woman of 85?  Her name was Elizabeth Thompson, and I met her in New York’s Kennedy Airport some years ago.  She was a tiny lady, alone, with obvious poor vision as she tried to find her way through the British Airways section.  I went up to her and said, “Hello, may I help you find your way?”  “Oh, thank you, thank you, love,” she replied in her Birmingham accent.  “Oh, you’re going back to England, too,”  I said smiling.  And, looking at her ticket, I saw we were on the same flight.  So, with over two hours to wait, we linked arms and went for tea to chat like old friends.

I found that Elizabeth was a widow and almost blind, which caused me to ask why she was traveling alone to England. “I’m not alone, love, the Lord is with me.  And He has even sent you to keep me company all the way back home.”

Then she told me the reason for her courage in setting out without assistance.

“My brother and sister are lovely people in their 90′s, but they’re not saved.  I told the Lord if no one else will tell them about Jesus, I’ll go myself to tell them before it’s too late.”

Then, throughout our journey, in what I called “Elizabeth’s Particular Pilgrim’s Progress,”  she told me about the many roads she had traveled without ever leaving home. All the roads of a gentle prayer Warrior – the battles, the triumphs, the joy of restored families and little children’s dreams; and the road to Calvary.  “That’s the road I want to walk with my brother and sister – all the way to the Cross,” she exclaimed.

I was amazed.  “Elizabeth, you are a walking testimony of Psalm 71:18,” I told her: “Now also when I am old and greyheaded, O God, forsake me not; until I have shewed thy strength unto this generation, and thy power to every one that is to come.”

What an example she is to the more able-bodied amongst us!

God grant us an army of such road Warriors and Knights.

Until next time, thank you for your kind visit today.

With warmest regards and blessings.

∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

Christian Mother Goose®

————————————–

Shop for Christian Mother Goose® products and Gift Sets by clicking on this link:

Greetings My Dear Friends of the Blog,

At exactly this moment (4:13 p.m.) two years ago, my beloved husband, Dale, bid us an earthly farewell.  While Kevin and I held him in our arms, he gave us the O.K. sign, with a finger and thumb together, and a faint smile as he stepped into Heaven.  It took a great effort on Dale’s part to use his last breath to complete his promise (made when he still could fully communicate) that, “As the evidence of my faith that Jesus is real and Heaven is real, I will smile and give you the O.K. sign as I leave.”  And he did indeed see the reality of Jesus and Heaven.  Praise The Lord for this gracious comfort.

I wrote Dale’s story of courage and endurance in a blog called “The Story behind the CMG Blog,” archived on January 24, 2009.  Since then, throughout these blogs, you may have come to know Dale as our own “Edison-inventor-Dad.”  But our four sons say they remember him best for showing them, “How a man should love his wife!”  What a lovely remembrance!

“Remembrance” will be the key word heard throughout this week as we approach America’s Memorial Day, or “Poppy Day,” as it is also known.  How much we owe to those who gave their lives in battle for the freedom of us all and the future of our children; such children as those in this rhyme from the Christian Mother Goose Prayers.

As radio talk-show host Laura Ingraham said this Memorial week, “We need to fall in love with America all over again.”

As I stood in our flag garden today, I thought of the many times Dale and I talked together there, reminiscing about stories and scenes along life’s journey.  Some of those stories are what I call “Poppy Day” Pages.  And so for this Memorial week blog, I share a few stories that wear a “remembrance poppy.”

In 1997 Dale and I were visiting the picturesque town of Canterbury, England.  There is an unfolding mystery there, involving Christian Mother Goose, that has drawn me to Canterbury several times.  I hope to tell you that tale some day.

This particular day, we were strolling around the magnificent, ancient Canterbury Cathedral, named Christ Church.  Its architecture is breathtaking, ornately embellishing its long history of being the site of Christian worship continuously since at least 602 A.D.

In one of the gardens I noticed a stone slab in a wall, etched with a soldier’s image and these words: “When you return, tell them of us and say: “‘For your tomorrow, we gave our today.’”

What a powerful message from the vast armada of men and women who gave their “today” for the rest of us to gain life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.  Those words seemed a “remembrance poppy” of the shed blood of those we must never forget!

Poppy Day is now commemorated throughout the world in honor of fallen heroes.  It was an American lady, Moina Michael who, in 1918, caught the significance of a picture of red field poppies growing between a multitude of crosses in the battlefields of Flanders in France.  It was two days before the Armistice of November 11, 1918 – the end of World War I –

Moina vowed to always wear the red poppy of Flanders’s field as a sign “for keeping the faith of all who died.”  After tirelessly campaigning, this Christian lady finally saw Memorial Day established in honor of all who died defending America’s freedom.

On Poppy Day in England, the Girl Guides sold red silk poppies to raise funds for the benefit of disabled veterans.  I was a Guide, about twelve, at the time of my story and was given the post to sell poppies on the steps of the Liverpool Museum.  Now, it so happens that the museum was one of my supreme treats – I loved feasting on the fascinating treasures inside.  But I was standing outside, with four hours to wish I could be inside!

Then, like Adam’s Eve, a tempting thought occurred to me.  I could place my poppy tray and cylinder money-holder on the top step of the museum near the door.  (Surely, museum lovers were honest and patriotic.)  So I left my now-self-dispensing poppy stand and disappeared into a world of knights in armor, treasures of ancient Egypt, tropical birds and other wonders.

A sailing ship’s large log book had several pages of people listed as “Indentured Servants.”  They were sailing from Liverpool in the 17th century to far off America.  Little did I know that America lay in my own future!

About three hours later, my conscience prevailed, and I ran back to my previously deserted post.  To my relief, the money cylinder was still there, with many of the silk poppies gone!  I shook the cylinder and it gave a nice, full sound.  Ah! honesty and patriotic generosity had  reigned that Poppy Day, but my Girl Guide heart felt ashamed that I had left my post.

Thank God for those who didn’t leave their posts in battle, regardless of the high cost of courage.

My Grandmother Turton used to say, “War took all my sons.”  She had five sons and three daughters.  My mother, Sarah, was the youngest, and she would tell me stories of her soldier brothers.  David gassed in the Battle of Gallipoli; John killed on the Khyber Pass; handsome “Gentleman” Bill who, although being a conscientious objector, volunteered to serve his country by cooking for the soldiers on the frontline.  He was killed in the Battle of the Somme in 1916.  Brother Thomas tried to find him – a soldier without a gun – one of 58,000 British troops who were lost the very first day of battle.  How Heaven must weep!

The Lord Jesus said, “Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.” (John 15:13)  But in the greatest war of all, the war for the souls of lost earthlings, the Bible records in Romans 5:13 this marvel: “But God commendeth His love toward us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.”

Jesus never left His post; He willingly allowed Himself to be nailed to it – the Cross of Calvary – where His shed blood drenched the scene of the greatest battlefield of all time and eternity.  The scene of the great Conqueror of sin and death; The Son of God and Savior of the world; yet, also the Gentle Jesus Who said, “I am the Good Shepherd: the Good Shepherd giveth His life for the sheep.  (John 10:11)

It was at the Last Supper that The Lord Jesus raised the cup and said, “This cup is the new testament in my blood; this do ye, as oft as ye drink it, in remembrance of Me.” (1.Corinthians 11:25)  Remembrance of His sacrifice for all of us, the price of our redemption.  All praise and honor to Him, The Prince of Peace!

May the Creator of the Memorial Day poppies soon return to bring this world true peace.

Blessings in Him,

∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

Christian Mother Goose®

————————————–

Shop for Christian Mother Goose® products and Gift Sets by clicking on this link: