But then, my mom never has had the creative turn of mind I do.  And, actually, the only resemblance I see is of the right side of the house with the attached single car garage at the back right turned at a 90% angle, facing the front.  Even that resemblance is slight because our house was white stucco and our double garage stood alone a bit beyond the small bedroom that was in the 90% angular turn.

We had an old windmill like the painting, although by the time we moved there in 1954 when I was nine, there had long been indoor plumbing and heating in the house.  My grandparents were among the first of their neighbors to put in electricity after beginning the South Plains Electric Coop in Lubbock that ran power lines out to the Abernathy house in the fall of 1937.

We did not have endless meadows filled with wildflowers sprawled beyond our yard full of day lilies and crepe myrtles like the painting either.  Or hazy blue mountains in the distance.  Our yard had tall Chinese elms standing guard around the perimeter – windbreaks they call them out there where the wind always blows.  Two massive cedars reigned outside the windows on the left side – the west side – of the house.  The bigger one scratched against my bedroom window at night, scaring me.  But, I left  the high window open, anyway, to listen to the sounds of the night.  The deep green cedars did look like the ones in my painting.  They are just placed on the wrong side of the house.  But, that is of minor detail to me.  I think what my painting most brings to my thoughts are memories; not precise recollection – memories.

My earliest memories of my grandparents’ house, before it was ours, are of early morning smells and sounds.  Coffee percolating.  Bacon frying.  My grandma’s soft voice and my uncle Oliver’s, mingled with the deep voice of my granddad talking with my mom and dad.  I cannot even recall where we all slept – and there were six in our family alone.  But, I do remember watching them all through the glass paned French doors that were closed between the living room and dining room beyond, with the small kitchen behind that, even.

An old upright piano stood in the living room to the left of the doors where I would later spend many hours practicing, hating every moment of it until it was too late to turn any latent talent into playing much more than simple arrangements for pleasure.  I deferred becoming accomplished to my sister, with her pianist’s hands and discipline.

When I look at my painting – and I do many times a day, as it hangs on the sea glass colored wall next to our bed – I see Texas in its glory.  I see times past when I was raised so naively innocent that I did not learn of some of the fundamental elements for really living until I was well into my thirties.  Innocence lost can be a sad state to live in, but then again it can be cherished for allowing diversity and depth to increase.  I am a better woman for having lived both lives.

My painting most reminds me of home.  It reminds me that I grew up in a good home, a solid home, a place where all that was evil lay somewhere else.  I keep those memories close to my heart, for I want my home now to be a safe haven and harbor to all shattered souls who would seek shelter herein.  I have been one of them, and am no more.  I am, and I want all who come here to be, at home.

Today, I want to be serious about something important that’s been on my mind and in my heart.

This past Sunday, our minister had an exceptionally good sermon from Proverbs about being wise about our families.  He stressed that we should lead Christ centered lives within our families and that doing so is THE most important thing we can do for our children.  If we fail in that, we have really failed in all, and I truly believe that.

In discussing how we should structure our family’s lives, he used an analogy I had never heard used before, and deemed it excellent.  He spoke of our country having U.S. Embassies all around the world on foreign soil.  Yet, when you walk into any one of them, you are considered to be on American soil and under the dictates of America’s laws and structure.

Likewise, we should each consider our own homes to be a Heaven’s Embassy, where a taste and touch of Heaven is found, rather than a war zone.  This resonated with me.

I have never delved much into my distant past here in this blog, nor am I going to do so today.  However, I will share this with you.  For years, I felt as if the weight of the world was on my shoulders always.  Even when I was in our house.  Often, it was a war zone.  In fact, I will never forget the overriding feeling I had the afternoon after my younger son, Mark, and I moved out of the house we had lived in for more than 14 years and into a tiny apartment in the same town.

More than anything else, when we came in the apartment amidst boxes and piles of things and I shut the door and locked it, I felt relief and a quiet calm that Mark and I were safe.  It was peaceful.  The entire world was outside!!  We were inside and this was truly our home!!  It was a place of rest and relaxation and love and spiritual solace.  It was a bit of Heaven.

I’ve felt that way ever since.  That was 34 years ago in January and my home – our home – has always been a God inspired respite from the world since.  I have not allowed satan (I refuse to capitalize his name or pay him any honor) to come in to cause division or turmoil or strife between any of my family members, and certainly not to reside.

I’m not saying we haven’t had troubles and trials and even tribulations.  What I’m saying is that when we close the doors to our home, the world is left out.  God is with us through all and in all and leads us in all things.  He is our protector and shield.  We war not with each other or ourselves.

Think about this today.  About making your OWN home an embassy of Heaven.

What say ye?

God bless each of you today!  Cheers!  And have a great weekend!  Dee

He also had to get the swing keel down in the water under the boat and get  the small outboard motor going to get us out of the harbor.  Every step he took, I was afraid he was going to fall off the boat.  I tried to keep out of the way and kept yelling to him, “Be careful!”

I knew that if he fell in the water, there was no way I could get him back on board.  Once we got under way, it was even worse.  If he fell off the boat out from the harbor, I had no clue how to stop the boat and turn it around.

Well – I could slow it down a whole lot, I knew, but letting the sheets go loose to the jib and mainsail, but after that – I dreaded to think.

Tom listened to me patiently, but finally tried to quiet me by saying, “Dee – I do this all the time, I know what I’m doing and I’m being careful.  Everything will be okay.”

It became easier once we were under way and I began to really enjoy myself.  Then, the lessons began.  You see – sailors have a totally different vocabulary.

For instance, there are no ropes on a boat.  Only lines and sheets.  Sheets are the “ropes” that attach to the sails.  Thus, our boat has jib (the forward, smaller sail) sheets and main sheets (the large, duh, main sail).  The rest of the many “ropes” on the boats are lines.

Also, there are no door or walls on a boat.  The “door” is the hatch and the “walls” are all bulkheads.  The right side on the boat, facing the front, is starboard and the left side is port.  The front of the boat is the bow, while the back of the boat is the stern.  The vocabulary goes on and on endlessly, but I learned enough to sound semi-intelligent by asking many times, “So . . . what’s this do-hicky?”

Captain Tom was really proud to have me on board, except for one thing.  You see, in the three years now he’s had the boat, he has not let one person use the little port-a-potty because he didn’t want to have to later empty out the holding tank, etc.  I told him there was no way I could go out for several hours without using it.  He uses a jug he bought especially for that purpose, himself, and then empties it over the side and washes it out.  So, he said, “Don’t you think you could just use that?  It has a wide mouth on it, Dee?  Come on.  Try it.  I don’t want to have to mess with the port-a-potty.”

I popped a canned drink and said . . . well – you don’t really want to know what I said.  ha!

So . . . while most people christen boats with a bottle of champagne across the bow, I christened Tom’s boat by peeing in the port-a-potty.  Hey – it worked for me!

By the way – have you taken a good look at the photo above?  See anything amiss?  Think about it and comment if you think you know.  I’m not going to tell you till everyone has had a good guess (or bad one).

We sailed out to Cat Island, a barrier island about seven miles out and then turned around to start back while eating our roast beef sandwiches.  We saw a couple of dolphins swimming across our bow and a loon in the water giving it’s lonesome cry.  Loons are fun to watch fishing.  They dive into the water and take forever to come back to the surface.  Neat birds.

We got back into the harbor and the slip about 4 p.m.  I had intended to captain the boat some myself while we were out, but Tom used his auto tiller the entire time, which guides the boat on whatever course he sets.  It’s a pretty neat instrument that I got him the first year he had the boat.  It’s really a necessary item for someone who wants to sail alone.

The auto tiller lets Tom do what he does best, which you can see in the photo above.  Lean against the “bulkhead” and enjoy being out on the water!

I had a great time and can’t wait to go out again now that I’ve taken the plunge and gone the first time.  Y’all come see us and we’ll take you out!  Don’t worry if you need a potty break, either.  Now that it’s been christened, Tom has relented and said it could be used again.  It wasn’t the end of the world to have to bring home the small holding tank to empty out.  I figure that was what it was made for, ya know?

Cheers!  And many blessings to each of you today!  Dee

I took the plunge Saturday and christened Tom’s sailboat - Item 7 – with my lovely presence.  I also officially christened it another way, but I’ll get to that in a minute.

He’s only had the boat three years, after all.  I had to make sure he could handle it well and that it was safe to venture out, you know.  A girl can’t be too careful these days.  I figured that by now with all of the stuff I’ve had to get him for the boat (that he just had to have to safely and comfortably sail, you know) it should be fit for a Queen to sail.

You’d think so, anyway.  I mean, he’s awfully proud of it and has been sailing a lot this fall, after a very late start this year.  He went sailing a couple of days last week, the weather has been so gorgeous.  But, he wanted me to go out with him so he could show off his “other” love (besides me).

We were going to go Friday, but it was too windy.  Saturday it was perfect weather, and I do mean, perfect for sailing.  Good breezes, but not blowing hard.  Mid-70s, bright and sunny and very few clouds.

I made us roast beef sandwiches and got out the potato chips while he got an ice chest of drinks for us to take.  We took jackets with us, but didn’t need those at all, and we headed out.  The 40 minute drive over to the coast was lovely; about half way there we hit the beach.  It was the kind of day you want to last forever when you’re starting out, ya know?  Have you ever had one of those?  The kind that makes you want to exclaim, “This is the BEST day of my life!”

(That’s actually an inside joke for our friend, Ron, who took Tom & me sailing one fall day several years ago while his wife, Debra, was having to work.  It was much cooler that day and the wind was stronger, but it was fantastic.  I took over sailing the boat as Tom & Ron took a break.  We were really heeled over and I was laughing out loud at the thrill of it all.  Ron called Debra and told her what I just said above.  When the conversation was finished, Ron turned to us sheepishly and said, “Don’t ever tell your wife you’re having the best day of your life when she’s not with you!”  We still laugh about that all the time all of these years later.  Just a hint for you guys out there.)

We hauled everything out to the boat in the slip and Tom started packing things aboard.  Then we came to the first “tricky” part.  Tom’s little “finger” pier that runs out along side the boat in the harbor for getting on and off the boat (that was there when he got the slip) is narrow and rickety.  It’s probably 15′ long, without a center brace pole beneath it, so it wobbles.  That fact, plus the facts that I’m (1) scared of heights – I was probably 6′ above the water, (2) have a fear of water, strange as that may be for a sailor – which I used to be(!), (3) you have to step across on to the moving boat – small ones are move around more than bigger ones, and (4) I hadn’t been out on a boat at all  in 5 1/2 years, all made me scared – to – death – momentarily.

Tom went ahead of me, while I gripped his hand and arm ferociously until I was safely down on the finger pier, out to the end of it, and then safely across and down on the boat.  Whew!  That was a feat for someone who used to be so cool about sailing.  I mean, I was the one who bought a Hobie 18′ with wings 22 years ago when I was living over there on the coast!  Here’s a photo of one like mine (sails and all), except mine had bright turquoise hulls and trampoline :

I used to do THAT!!  What the guy in the photo is doing.  You wear what they call a “butt bucket,” which is a diaper-like sling you get into, and then you get on the high side of the boat as it’s traveling rapidly through the water.  What fun!!

Tom & I went sailing all the time (as you may remember from some of my posts several years ago, when we still had the Hobie).  We kept the catamaran for 15 years and had always had a blast with it.  We’re way past those days, but not past good sailing days, as I so hesitantly found out Saturday.

I’ve lots more to share with you, but don’t want to take up your entire day, so will stop here.  The first photo above shows Tom next to the tiller sailing the boat.  The photo wasn’t taken Saturday, as we forgot to take our camera and Tom, much to his dismay, but my delight, forgot to take his phone that takes pictures.  But, he had that exact same shirt on and shorts and was barefoot most of the afternoon.

Next time, I’ll delve into (1) the language and culture of sailing and (2) how I came to christened the boat, other than by my presence on it.  I’ll also try to give you a descriptive “tour” of the boat.

Till then . . . Cheers!  And many blessings to each of you today! Dee

But, I’ve got good reasons.

I’m in a summer slump.

Oh yeah . . . it’s September 10, already.

Well then, blame it on Tom.  He’s been keeping me really busy.  And, I have to admit I’ve been in a “slight” slump.

Actually, I’ve been spending a whole lot of time on Facebook, but that’s sorta like blogging, isn’t it?  It’s similar, you have to admit.  And very addicting.  Even worse than reading blogs all day long, which I did for a very long time when I first started blogging.  Now, not so much.  Just sort of cruise by everyone’s blog and see what’s going on and then head to FB!  ha!

What have y’all been up to the past several days I haven’t been here?  I did leave the last post up as long as I did for good reason.  I wanted people to have the chance to come by to see all of the winning photos.  I’m going to be posting some of the rest of the entries over the next few weeks and months, so watch for those, as well.  I would have included one of them today, but am on my laptop and don’t have access to them.

Instead, I thought about the theme of the contest (Summertime & the Livin’ Is Easy) and my own behavior of late (lazy) and found the lazy cat above I thought was pertinent.  Besides – he’s a beautiful cat who looks very much like one of our three “boys” back when we had them sharing our life.  He looks like Ross “Wolfy” Perot, our Persian/tabby mix who had golden topaz eyes.  He was a gorgeous cat!!

(I know – some of you are NOT exactly cat people, but hey – you can still appreciate beauty in a cat, just like I can appreciate beauty in a dog, even if you don’t LOVE them.)

So . . . what have you been doing?  Any of you FB perusers like I am?  Some of you work, perhaps?  (I’m sorry – that was mean of me, wasn’t it?!)  Anything exciting going on in your life?  Must be something you can share.

Let’s hear it.  I’ll go first.  At the moment we are visiting with Tom’s brother & sister-in-law.  Tom & Dickie have gone off to an afternoon $1 movie that’s fairly new – Disney’s “The Sorcerer’s Apprentice” with Nicolas Cage.  Joyce & I are working on dinner.  Taking our time and doing a little at a time along so we can rest in between chores.

Last night we watched the Saints beat the Vikings, but neither team looked all that great for a good part of the game.  Tom can’t wait until Sunday for all of the pro football games because, as he has for many years, he has a fantasy football team in a league with some really great friends of ours, so has to cheer for his players.  Then, there are THE BOYS – the Dallas Cowboys.  And guess what – Sunday night the Cowboys are playing the Washington Redskins, Tom’s most hated team (ya know – like Cowboys and Indians!), but his brother, Jimmy’s favorite.  So, not only will Sunday night bring a big football rivalry, but also brotherly rivalry.  It’s hilarious.

Tomorrow – we need to spend reflecting and remembering all of those who were so tragically taken from us too soon by terrorists who would do away with us all.  May we never forget.  May we ever try to bring the world to Christ in love.  I could say a whole lot more about all of that, but will hold my tongue and ask that you all pray with me, instead, that God will guide us as we follow Him in ways we should live and love and not sow hatred or bring a bad name upon Him.

Many blessings to each of you today!  Dee

However, that same day, oil and tar balls began to show up in the water of the lake in Slidell.  Undaunted, he still thinks he can get in some good sailing before the mess is too much.  I told him I didn’t think that was such a great idea.  For one thing, the boat has those brand new blue coats of paint on the bottom of it, up to the water line and a little above, with a second blue line trim running around the boat above that.

The other big thing (in my book, however I guess I’m no longer a true sailor) is that if he gets a tar ball caught up in his motor, that will be the end of the outboard motor and I said, “we are not getting a new boat motor.”  “Period.”  “Forget it.”  “No way.”

Sometimes one must stand her ground, and this is the spot I’ve chosen to stand on.

So, he came come up with an alternate plan, which went like this:

(1) He wanted to put in a long gravel driveway down on the lower end of the front of our property so he could put the boat and trailer on it, instead of having it on the grass next to the garage.  Having the boat on the trailer on the grass up close is not only unsightly, but is also killing the grass beneath it.

The last two reasons above earned him enough permission from me to call our builder/contractor to come give him an estimate.

Tom described the gravel he thought would look nice that one of our wealthy neighbors has in his side yard.  Turns out to be a “special” gray gravel that is twice as expensive as regular gravel.  I couldn’t believe it.

Well, yes I could, knowing Tom and how he always gravitates, as if by magic, to the most expensive whatever it is he wants to purchase.  Again, I stood my ground and said “forget it.”  I was against the whole gravel driveway scenario to begin with, but was beginning to wear down.

Then he decided it would be nice to have cross ties along each side and a shed at the end, as a place where he could store all of his boat extra parts and pieces when the boat wasn’t in the water.  The shed could also hold all of his paraphernalia from Mardi Gras and Jazz Fest that now clutters the garage so that it is nearly impossible to get in and out of the cars.

Our builder came out and Tom got a price.  Then, Tom decided to add to the equation a concrete foundation upon which to place the now metal shed we were going to have to buy, so that the shed could be bolted down.

So, now we were up to a “regular” gravel driveway, cross ties all along each side, pouring a concrete foundation, buying a metal shed to place on said foundation, a culvert at the street’s edge, and, oh yeah – it seems a tree that is in the way is going to have to come down.

All of this is so that we can place the boat and trailer on it (along with its monthly liability insurance) since Tom can’t put it in the water anywhere around here due to the oil spill.

I got to thinking about all of this and came up with what I thought was an even better solution.  SELL THE BOAT!

I mean, he can no longer handle it himself, there’s no place to sail within hours of driving and it costs a whole lot of boat dollars just to have it to look at, much less sail.

But, he’s not to be deterred.  So, now I’m thinking that maybe the thing to do is (1) let him do all of the above additions to the property, which hopefully will be considered assets, (2) get a small window unit air conditioner for one of the two shed windows, (3) let  him put the two old furry bean bags out there that he won’t allow me to part with, (4) and have him go out there with his brand new cell phone (remember the other fairly new one got salt water in it and died trying to get the boat out of the water), where he can watch the NFL channel on his phone.

He was all excited because his “new” new phone has the NFL channel with all Sunday and Thursday night games.  I figure this will present the perfect opportunity for him to take advantage of those games, while he sits there in his bean bags looking out the other little shed window at his sailboat in front of him.  What more could a guy want, ya know?

Me . . . I’m going to sit in the house watching football on the 60″ HDTV and pretend Tom’s gone sailing.

I haven’t written about “THE BOAT” lately.  Oversight on my part.  Although, you have to admit there’s been a whole lot of other activity going on in our lives.  Like Tom’s 5 heart-bypasses March 31 and recovery.  My 1,750 mile trip to Texas and back.  Etc, etc.

But, believe me, boat happenings have been ongoing this entire time.

Some of you will remember me discussing das boot last summer when I briefly went back through our “boat history” up until he purchased the present one.  Last August I talked about his purchase of some expensive marine plywood to make a new “door” down into the tiny cabin.  I called them “Men Don’t Measure” and “Men Don’t Measure – Conclusion” for obvious reasons, when you read the posts. (Here and here – the photos are gone, but the links still there, so you’ll “get” the picture.  ha!)

He’s had the boat for two and one half years, so this was to be his third summer of sailing fun in the sun, blowing with the breezes, leaving all of the cares and worries of the world behind.  He had gotten the boat “all fixed up,” which is interpreted “everything he could think of to load the boat up with that I would be willing to go along with and pay for, if only he could convince me the items were all dire necessities to keep him alive and relatively safe out on the water alone.”

He half-heartedly worked on staining his marine lumber doors for the boat throughout the winter months.  The boat sat in the yard next to the driveway up to the garage with a blue tarp over it.  Staining went slowly, then ground to a halt about thanksgiving, with winter not yet completely upon us.  But days were short, nights were long and there was an abundance of football games and other major TV entertainment attractions to keep him from having to even think about that second, then third, coat of varnish each side of all three pieces of lumber needed.

He  decided to wait until early spring to regain his enthusiasm for boat “work,” as opposed to boat “play,” and kept napping in his recliner.  But I told myself, at least he’s not out spending “boat dollars” (Greg & Patrick, you will remember that this is somewhat equivalent to “guitar dollars,” an amount that boggles an average wife’s mind, especially one not given to piles of shoes).

Early spring arrived.  Cool sailing days were just around the corner.  Tom didn’t feel well.  After a trip to the ER turned into a two day stay, with needed heart by-passes set for a week later, Tom’s visions of sailing on the breezes faded a bit from his mind.  Staying alive moved to the number one place in his thought processes and stayed there for another two months as he endured complications and setbacks with his health before he could even return to work.

About that time, I left town for a while, so he thought that might bring a good opportunity for him to, at last, get back out on the water.  But, he didn’t have the strength to put the boat in the water on the coast, get the mast up and the sails all alone.  So, he had to muster help.  That would take a little planning, but could be managed.

However, heavy, on-going rains didn’t cooperate, so the minutes, hours and days tick-tocked away what would have been excellent sailing days while Tom and his helpers watched helplessly.

Then, total disaster struck.  The oil well in the gulf blew and now not only Tom, who sails in the gulf of Mexico inside the barrier islands of Mississippi, but the entire gulf coast region had a nightmare on their hands.

Tom was not to be deterred, though.  A true sailor and captain persists in even the very worst of conditions, most of which were about to happen to him . . .

To Be Concluded next time, so stay tuned . . .

(Cheers, Greg!)  Dee

I am spending my time, whether doing other tasks or not, in deep prayer and supplication to the Lord, requesting wisdom in knowing how to counsel with those around me and how to receive the best counsel in my own heart to bear these load, myself.

My deep faith sustains and guides me.  I seek forgiveness from those I may have wronged in my past, although I’ve always tried to do the best I knew to do at the time I was acting.

I do not like to write publicly in such a frame of mind, yet I do not turn from trying to be honest and open with the struggles in my heart with all who will bear with me.  I regret in my younger years having been judgmental toward many around me when, instead, I should have listened more carefully to their hearts and found that they were just like me.  We all seek the same thing deep down inside – to be truly loved and accepted for who and what we are.

I have long since learned better, having found true love and acceptance from this man to whom I am married.  Because of his great love for me, I came to know and understand – to really feel and believe – the unquenchable, eternal love of God, our Father, and Jesus Christ, our Savior.  Although he was God’s Son, he came here to earth to live as a man – as we live – to be one of us in all ways – and die, in his perfection, so that we might be redeemed by grace.  We are living, breathing souls and as God’s children, we are already living in eternity, never to face death, except in this physical, bodily form.  We have been saved by grace through our faith and in following after God to share His love to all around us.

We are the embodiment of Christ’s body – the church – upon this earth.  We are to exemplify Jesus in all our ways with each other and even with strangers and enemies.  May God help me live this out from now on, the remainder of my human days.

To God be the glory, and may we each recognize that Jesus loves  us.  Each of us.  You.  Me.  He will not forsake us or let us down, so matter how much we stumble or grow weary and weak.  “Jesus loves me, this I know.”

Please pray with me today, y’all, and know I pray for you, too.  Dee

Can any of you identify?

So . . . I’ve . . . been . . . stressed.

But, at the same time I’ve been reminded this week by others (thanks, Heather, for reminding me that dial-up internet on a rickity laptop is better than none at all!), in some cases, to be mindful of the little things in life that make our lives better.  I need to be “shook up” sometimes to appreciate all I have.  Me – the one who just wrote about “The Girl in the Woods” last time (this past Monday, that now seems eons ago) to remind us all to look around and really observe what we see.

I want to share with you a couple of photos we have of some beautiful birds who live here in Mississippi.  They are Mississippi Swallow-tail Kites, and Tom saw one flying above him on the way home from work one afternoon.

Isn’t this the most beautiful, graceful bird?

Here’s another one soaring above in the heavens.  Would that I could be such a bird in flight!

My spirit and my soul DO fly high above into the heavens when I remember my God, my creator . . . and I am refreshed and replinished in heart and mind.

Thank you, Father, for such beautiful little things in life that are not so little after all when we set our hearts toward heaven and toward You.  Help us to always have hearts of gratitude for the good you give us in such abundance, even in the little things around us, if we will but look and truly let our eyes SEE.

Give us hearts of compassion to always cast our look and Your love upon all we meet and know.  Give us hearts of forgiveness toward all others as You have forgiven us.  Forgive us when we do wrong, or fail to do good in Your name.  Help us to DO good in Your name at every opportunity; to always have a smile on our face; to always look into others’ eyes straightforwardly to smile at their souls.

We ask all of these things, and thank You for all of these things through Jesus Christ, our Beloved Savior and Your Son, in His Name.  Amen

She was 19 years old and married to a small thin man in his late 30s or early 40s who looked to be twice his age and was crippled up in his left arm from a working accident some years before.  Thus, he was disabled and unable to work any more, at all, although the work he’d done before was just as a laborer.

She had four little girls of her own, although she was just a girl herself.

They were destitute.  They lived in a small shack consisting of three room, with no bathroom, far off the nearest paved road among the tall, matchstick pines.  Being summer, it was swelteringly hot and humid, but they had no air conditioning, of course.  Nor did they have much furniture.  In fact, other than in the kitchen, I recall none.  The three little girls and baby all slept on bare mattresses reeking with the strong odor of urine.  They may have had diapers for the youngest, but the nearest place to do laundry was in town, and that cost money they didn’t have.  Neither did we see any clothes, anywhere.

Their only transportation was an old dilapidated pickup, and it was not there when we arrived.  The doors were wide open, so we went up the flimsy back steps to the kitchen and went in to look around.  We saw a small table with bowls on them, a couple of chairs and some cheap bent spoons.  The small refrigerator’s door did not shut well and it was full of big ants, but very little else.  Ants crawled all across the tiny kitchen, including on the counter, where we found the remains of their pitiful lunch.  Water gravy and water Koolaid, with a bit of sugar in it.  There were no signs of anything else to eat.

We had wanted to see them to visit, but instead we just left the big boxes of food, produce, milk and staples, for them to have when they got home.  We left some small clean clothes, too, for the girls, and took note of what else they needed.  It was a long list, because they needed everything, beginning with a habitable place to live.

We were not only saddened, but sickened at what we saw.  The wretchedness of the place; the poverty.  But, for the moment we had done all we knew to do.

We found out later that the reason they were not “home” was because all of them had driven to nearby Lufkin to the welfare department to try to receive a bit more financial help then what he was getting.  The girl told us that what we saw in their shack was the very last of the food that they had.  The water gravy and Koolaid.  They had nothing else.

When they returned home, completely dejected and hungry, they were overjoyed to find the food we brought.

My friend, a young Christian mother of four, herself, in her 30s, and I – just a married college student, myself, with a little one, David, who was two years old, had driven back into town by then.  I pondered what I had seen and experiences.  I deeply identified with this young girl, as I was expecting a baby soon, and would have two little ones at 21.

We lived in student housing in a small two bedroom apartment that was $67 a month, which we could not afford, either, but we managed the the four married couples’ buildings around our square and that paid our rent.  My husband went to school full time and worked all kinds of odd jobs at night to help with bills, too.  One job, sitting in a chicken house where the incubators were all night long to keep the eggs from burning, paid 33 cents an hour.  It was a miserable job, but we needed the money.

Yet, when I compared my life to hers, and she was a brand new Christian, I felt deeply blessed.

We did not leave them as we found them.  Charlotte, my friend, went back repeatedly to help them and even got the girl a decent paying job in town soon after.  Charlotte made sure she was able to come worship with us and bring her little daughters.  The girl dressed them up as best she could with the hand-me-downs and they looked shiny and sweet.

They are able to move into town and the church helped them greatly.  Their lives improved very much due to the love and care and benevolence of the compassionate Christian community there in Nacogoches.  It was inspiring to me to see true Christianity in action – Jesus love – and the impressions of that girl’s life have stayed with me until now.

This did not happen during the deep Depression of the 1930s.  This happened in 1966, and happens still today in many places all around us here in America, if only we will take the time to really open our eyes and see as Jesus would have us see.

My daughter, who lives in an a far suburb of Dallas told me a few years ago that she did not know any poor people.  (Although she lives out in the country and has trailer homes on both sides of their property.)  I was stunned.  I told her she would find them all around her, even there, if she would just look.  She took my advice, and did.  Since then, she has been involved in ministry with her congregation of Christians and on several mission trips outside this country, even.  We financially supported her in doing those things and have supported her morally and in every way we could to encourage her in her work.

Tom and I live in a very poor area of the south here in Mississippi where people such as the girl in the woods live, as well.  May I ever seek out those I can help in some way – as God’s child – a Christian – and not forget they are all around me too.  To get to our house in the woods, we drive by dozens and dozens of run down trailers and trailer parks that look like junk yards.  They are here.

I hope you will be encouraged today to look more closely around where you live to find someone you can help – in Christ’s name – to show them the love of God and Christ even in their lives!

Many blessings to each of you today.  Dee