Let it go…

I can’t control everything. That shouldn’t be a big revelation, but maybe it is, because I’ve tried. Starting now, I’m letting go of the things beyond my control.

I’m going to embrace the part of life I can control – myself. That’s right, not my husband, not my friends, not even my son, just me. I need to stop trying to control the world around me and start looking within.

It’s a scary prospect – letting go. I’m terrified everything might just fall apart if I’m not directing up front, but that’s just my ego talking, isn’t it? I think if I can get beyond the fear, it will also be exhilerating, freeing. How wonderful will it feel to just let it go?

I’ve met folks out there that have such a great grasp on this ideal. Those that lead not with control, but by example. No matter what is going on around them, they have an inner peace that never waivers. I want to be one of those folks.

Isn’t that how the Bible tells us to live? I believe so. I also believe the only true inner peace is found through faith. If we truly believe, there is no need to fear.

So, this is my testimony today. I am going to find my peace through my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. If you feel the same, please find yours as well. You can give your heart to the Lord any time you choose, including right now.

Published in: on September 3, 2014 at 10:09 am  Leave a Comment  

A fresh beginning

A new year can be a fresh start, don’t you think? Or, maybe it’s just a great marking point for one. So, are you feeling optimistic for 2013?

If not, here’s some ideas I thought might help us all make 2013 a really great year.

1. Keep a gratitude journal and write down all the blessings you have in your life every day.

2. Try something new before the end of the month. It doesn’t have to be extravagant, maybe it’s just a new hairstyle. Just make sure it’s something you can feel excited about.

3. Get a new attitude. Every time you catch yourself thinking negatively, write down that negative thought, then write down an equally positive one. Purposely replace that negative thought with the positive one every time you catch yourself thinking it.

4. Find ways to help others. It will make you feel great!

5. Believe in a higher source than yourself. There’s a plan for your life. Great things may happen at any moment. Be prepared. Watch for the blessings that come your way.

Happy New Year, friends! ūüôā It’s going to be a great one. I do plan it so…

Published in: on January 2, 2013 at 12:37 pm  Leave a Comment  

I finally know what I’m looking for…

I have a confession to make. I’m a people-watcher in more than one aspect. My attention naturally waivers to fascinating people in a crowd — that overly happy lady drinking coffee and chatting on her cell phone about her day, the man jogging by at a steady pace, the teenager with his chin held high and proud.

I also love watching people on TV. Weight loss success stories fascinate me. Tribute stories to those that have given so much of themselves to others warms my heart. Survival stories interest me more than anything else.

I started wondering…why am I secretly tuned into the lives of those around me?

I finally know. I’m looking for something, and I finally know what that something is. I’m looking for strength.

I want to know where others find their inner strength. Why is the woman on the phone drinking coffee so happy? Where does that glow come from? Where did the man jogging find his motivation? Why is the teenager so sure of himself?

So, here is my question to you: where do you find your inner strength?

Published in: on November 6, 2011 at 9:04 pm  Comments (2)  

Take a chance on someone you don’t know.

Author Unknown –

This is a beautiful and touching story of love and perseverance.  Well worth the read.  At the prodding of my friends I am writing this story.

My name is Mildred Honor and I am a former elementary school music teacher from Des Moines, Iowa. I have always supplemented my income by teaching piano lessons – something I have done for over 30 years.

During those years I found that children have many levels of musical ability, and even though I have never had the pleasure of having a prodigy, I have taught some very talented students. However, I have also had my share of what I call ‘musically challenged’ pupils – one such pupil being Robby…

Robby was 11 years old when his mother (a single mom) dropped him off of his first piano lesson. I prefer that students (especially boys) begin at an earlier age, which I explained to Robby. But Robby said that it had always been his mother’s dream to hear him play the piano, so I took him as a student.

Well, Robby began his piano lessons and from the beginning I thought it was a hopeless endeavor.  As much as Robby tried, he lacked the sense of tone and basic rhythm needed to excel.  But he dutifully reviewed his scales and some elementary piano pieces that I require all my students to learn.  Over the months he tried and tried while I listened and cringed and tried to encourage him.

At the end of each weekly lesson he would always say ‘My mom’s going to hear me play someday’.¬† But to me, it seemed hopeless, he just did not have any inborn ability.

I only knew his mother from a distance as she dropped Robby off or waited in her aged car to pick him up.  She always waved and smiled, but never dropped in.

Then one day Robby stopped coming for his lessons.  I thought about calling him, but assumed that because of his lack of ability he had decided to pursue something else.  I was also glad that he had stopped coming Рhe was a bad advertisement for my teaching!

Several weeks later I mailed a flyer recital to the students’ homes.¬† To my surprise, Robby (who had received a flyer) asked me if he could be in the recital. I told him that the recital was for current pupils and that because he had dropped out, he really did not qualify.¬† He told me that his mother had been sick and unable to take him to his piano lessons, but that he had been practicing. ‘Please Miss Honor, I’ve just got to play’ he insisted. ¬†I don’t know what led me to allow him to play in the recital – perhaps it was his insistence or maybe something inside of me saying that it would be all right.

The night of the recital came and the high school gymnasium was packed with parents, relatives and friends. ¬†I put Robby last in the program, just before I was to come up and thank all the students and play a finishing piece.¬† I thought that any damage he might do would come at the end of the program and I could always salvage his poor performance through my ‘curtain closer’.

Well, the recital went off without a hitch, the students had been practicing and it showed.¬† Then Robby came up on the stage.¬† His clothes were wrinkled and his hair looked as though he had run an egg beater through it.¬† ‘Why wasn’t he dressed up like the other students?’¬† I thought, ‘Why didn’t his mother at least make him comb his hair for this special night?’

Robby pulled out the piano bench, and I was surprised when he announced that he had chosen to play Mozart’s Concerto No. 21 in C Major.¬† I was not prepared for what I heard next. ¬†His fingers were light on the keys, they even danced nimbly on the ivories.¬† He went from pianissimo to fortissimo, from allegro to virtuoso; his suspended chords that Mozart demands were magnificent!¬† Never had I heard Mozart played so well by anyone his age.

After six and a half minutes he ended in a grand crescendo, and everyone was on their feet in wild applause!¬† Overcome and in tears, I ran up on stage and put my arms around Robby in joy. ¬†‘I have never heard you play like that Robby, how did you do it?

‘Through the microphone Robby explained: ‘Well, Miss Honor…remember I told you that my mom was sick?¬† Well, she actually had cancer and passed away this morning. ¬†And well…she was born deaf, so tonight was the first time she had ever heard me play, and I wanted to make it special.’

There wasn’t a dry eye in the house that evening. As the people from Social Services led Robby from the stage to be placed in to foster care, I noticed that even their eyes were red and puffy. I thought to myself then how much richer my life had been for taking Robby as my pupil.

No, I have never had a prodigy, but that night I became a prodigy…of Robby. He was the teacher and I was the pupil, for he had taught me the meaning of perseverance and love and believing in yourself, and may be even taking a chance on someone and you didn’t know why.

Published in: on July 20, 2011 at 9:21 am  Leave a Comment  

A story to make you smile

Shirley & Marcy

Author Unknown

A mother was concerned about her kindergarten son walking to school. He didn’t want his mother to walk with him. She wanted to give him the feeling that he had some independence but yet know that he was safe.¬† So she had an idea of how to handle it.

She asked a neighbour if she would please follow him to school in the mornings, staying at a distance, so he¬† wouldn’t notice her.

The neighbor said that since she was up early with her toddler anyway, it would be a good way for them to get some exercise as well, so she agreed.

The next school day, the neighbour and her little girl set out following behind Timmy as he walked to school with another neighbor girl he knew.  She did this for the whole week.

As the two walked and chatted, kicking stones and twigs, Timmy ‘s little friend noticed the same lady was following them¬†as she seemed to do every day all week.¬† Finally she said to Timmy, ‘Have you noticed that lady following us to school all week? Do you know her?’

Timmy nonchalantly replied, ‘Yeah, I know who she is.’

The little girl said, ‘Well, who is she?’

‘That’s just Shirley Goodnest,’ Timmy replied, ‘and her daughter Marcy.’

‘Shirley Goodnest? Who is she and why is she following us?’

‘Well,’ Timmy explained, ‘every night my Mum makes me say the¬†23rd Psalm¬†with my prayers, ‘cuz she worries about me so much.¬† And in the Psalm, it says, ‘Shirley Goodnest and Marcy shall follow me all the days of my life’, so I guess I’ll just have to get used to it!’

Published in: on July 8, 2011 at 7:34 am  Leave a Comment  

The Price HE paid.

God’s Grace

There once was a man named¬†George Thomas, pastor in a small¬†New England town. One Easter¬†Sunday morning¬†he came¬†to Church carrying a rusty, bent, old bird cage, and set it by the¬†pulpit. Eyebrows were raised and, as if in response, Pastor Thomas¬†began to speak….

“I was walking through town yesterday when¬†I saw a young boy coming toward me swinging this bird cage. On the
bottom of the cage were three little wild birds, shivering with cold and fright.

I stopped the lad and asked, ‘What do you¬†have there, son?’

‘Just some old birds,’ came the reply.

‘What are you going to do with them?’ I asked.

‘Take ’em home and have fun with ’em,’ he¬†answered.

‘I’m gonna tease ’em and pull out their feathers to make ’em¬† fight. I’m gonna have a real good time.’

‘But you’ll get tired of those birds sooner¬†or later. What will you do then?’

‘Oh, I got some cats,’ said the little boy. ‘They like birds. I’ll take ’em to them.'”

The pastor was silent for a moment. ‘How much do¬†you want for those birds, son?’

‘Huh??!!! Why, you don’t want them birds, mister. They’re just plain old field birds. They don’t sing. They ain’t¬†even pretty!’

‘How much?’ he asked again.

The boy sized up the pastor as if he were crazy and said, ‘$10?’

The pastor reached in his pocket and took out a ten dollar bill. He placed it in the boy’s hand. In a flash, the boy was gone. The pastor¬†picked up the cage and gently carried it to the end of the alley where¬†there was a tree and a grassy spot. Setting the cage down, he opened the door, and by softly tapping the bars persuaded the birds out,¬†setting them free. Well, that explained the¬†empty bird cage¬†on the pulpit, and then the pastor began to tell this story:

One day Satan and Jesus were having a conversation. Satan had just¬†come from theGarden of Eden, and he was gloating and boasting. “Yes,¬†sir, I just caught a world full of people down there. Set me a trap,¬†used bait I knew they couldn’t resist. Got ’em all!”

“What are you going to do with them?” Jesus asked.

Satan replied, “Oh, I’m gonna have fun! I’m gonna teach them how to¬† marry and divorce each other, how to hate and abuse each other, how to¬†drink and smoke and curse. I’m gonna teach them how to invent guns and¬†bombs and kill each other. I’m really gonna have fun!”

“And what will you do when you are done with them?”

Jesus asked. “Oh, I’ll kill ’em,” Satan glared proudly.

“How much do you want for them?” Jesus asked.

“Oh, you don’t want those people. They ain’t no good. Why, you’ll¬† take them and they’ll just hate you. They’ll spit on you, curse you¬† and kill you. You don’t want those people!!”

“How much? He asked again.

Satan looked at Jesus and sneered, “All your blood, tears and your life.”

Jesus said, “DONE!” Then He paid the price.

The pastor picked up the cage and walked from the pulpit.

Published in: on March 20, 2011 at 9:28 am  Comments (6)  

Jesus and the Mud Puddle

To all my friends,

I pray God finds you a mud puddle!

JESUS & THE MUD PUDDLE (Author Unknown)

(You gotta believe a 6 year old)

Howard County Sheriff Jerry Marr got a disturbing call one Saturday afternoon a few months ago. His 6-year-old grandson, Mikey, had been hit by a car while fishing in Greentown with his dad.

The father and son were near a bridge by the Kokomo Reservoir when a woman lost control of her car, slid off the bridge and hit Mikey at a rate of about 50 mph.

Sheriff Marr had seen the results of accidents like this and feared the worst. When he got to Saint Joseph Hospital, he rushed through the emergency room to find Mikey conscious and in fairly good spirits.

‘Mikey, what¬†happened?’ Sheriff Marr asked.

Mikey replied, ‘Well, Papaw, I was fishin’ with Dad, and some lady runned me over,¬†I flew into a mud puddle, and broke my fishin’ pole and I didn’t get to catch no¬†fish!’

As it turned out, the impact propelled Mikey about 500 feet, over a few trees and an embankment and in to the middle of a mud puddle. His only injuries were to his right femur bone, which had broken in two places. Mikey had surgery to place pins in his leg. Otherwise the boy is fine.

Since all the boy could talk about was that his fishing pole was broken, the Sheriff went out to Wal-Mart and bought him a new one while he was in surgery so he could have it when he came out.

The next day the Sheriff sat with Mikey to keep him company in the hospital. Mikey was enjoying his new fishing pole and talked about when he could go fishing again as he cast into the trash can.

When¬†they were alone Mikey, just as matter-of-fact, said, ‘Papaw, did you¬†know Jesus is real?’

‘Well,’ the Sheriff replied, a little¬†startled, ‘Yes, Jesus is¬†real to all who believe in him and love him in their¬†hearts.’

‘No,’ said Mikey. ‘I mean Jesus is REALLY REAL.’

‘What do you mean?’ asked the Sheriff.

‘I know he’s¬†real ’cause I saw him,’ said Mikey, still casting into the trash¬†can.

‘You did?’ said the Sheriff.

‘Yep,’ said Mikey. ‘When¬†that lady runned me over and broke my fishing pole, Jesus caught¬†me in his arms and laid me down in the mud puddle.’



Published in: on February 28, 2011 at 9:08 am  Comments (6)  

Grab a tissue before you read this one…

Author Unknown –


A drunk man in an Oldsmobile

They said had run the light

That caused the six-car pileup

On 109 that night.

When broken bodies lay about

And blood was everywhere,

The sirens screamed out eulogies,

For death was in the air.

A mother, trapped inside her car,

Was heard above the noise;

Her plaintive plea near split the air:

Oh, God, please spare my boys!

She fought to loose her pinned hands;

She struggled to get free,

But mangled metal held her fast

In grim captivity.

Her frightened eyes then focused

On where the back seat once had been,

But all she saw was broken glass and

Two children’s seats crushed in.

Her twins were nowhere to be seen;

She did not hear them cry,

And then she prayed they’d been thrown free,

Oh, God, don’t let them die!

Then firemen came and cut her loose,

But when they searched the back,

They found therein no little boys,

But the seat belts were intact.

They thought the woman had gone mad

And was traveling alone,

But when they turned to question her,

They discovered she was gone.

Policemen saw her running wild

And screaming above the noise

In beseeching supplication,

Please help me find my boys!

They’re four years old and wear blue shirts;

Their jeans are blue to match.

One cop spoke up, They’re in my car,

And they don’t have a scratch.

They said their daddy put them there

And gave them each a cone,

Then told them both to wait for Mom

To come and take them home.

I’ve searched the area high and low,

But I can’t find their dad.

He must have fled the scene,

I guess, and that is very bad.

The mother hugged the twins and said,

While wiping at a tear,

He could not flee the scene, you see,

For he’s been dead a year.

The cop just looked confused and asked,

Now, how can that be true?

The boys said, Mommy, Daddy came

And left a kiss for you.

He told us not to worry

And that you would be all right,

And then he put us in this car with

The pretty, flashing light.

We wanted him to stay with us,

Because we miss him so,

But Mommy, he just hugged us tight

And said he had to go.

He said someday we’d understand

And told us not to fuss,

And he said to tell you, Mommy,

He’s watching over us.

The mother knew without a doubt

That what they spoke was true,

For she recalled their dad’s last words,

I will watch over you.

The firemen’s notes could not explain

The twisted, mangled car,

And how the three of them escaped

Without a single scar.

But on the cop’s report was scribed,

In print so very fine,

An angel walked the beat tonight on Highway 109.

Published in: on December 1, 2010 at 9:46 am  Comments (3)  

The Little Boy in Church

Author Unknown –


One Sunday morning the pastor noticed little Alex standing in the foyer of the church staring up at a large plaque. It was covered with names and small American flags mounted on either side of it. The pastor walked up, stood beside the little boy, and said quietly, ‘Good morning Alex.’ ‘Good morning Pastor,’ Alex replied, ‘and asked what is this?’ The pastor said, ‘Well son, it’s a memorial to all the young men and women who died in the service.’

Soberly, they just stood together, staring at the large plaque. Finally, little Alex’s voice, barely audible and trembling with fear asked, ‘Which service, the 8:15 or the 10:30?’

Published in: on November 3, 2010 at 9:16 am  Leave a Comment  

He Sits as a refiner and purifer of silver…

Author Unknown- 

Malachi 3:3 says: “He sits as a refiner and purifier of silver..”

This verse puzzled some women in a Bible study and they wondered what this statement meant about the character and nature of God. One of the women offered to find out the process of refining silver and get back to the group at their next Bible Study.
That week, the woman called a silversmith and made an appointment to watch him at work. ¬†She didn’t mention anything about the reason for her interest beyond her curiosity about the process of refining silver.

As she watched the silversmith, he held a piece of silver over the fire and let it heat up. ¬†He explained that in refining silver, one needed to hold the silver in the middle of the fire where the flames were hottest as to burn away all the impurities…

The woman thought about God holding us in such a hot spot; then she thought again about the verse that says: “He sits as a refiner and purifier of silver.”

She asked the silversmith if it was true that he had to sit there in front of the fire the whole time the silver was being refined. The man answered that yes, he not only had to sit there holding the silver, but he had to keep his eyes on the silver the entire time it was in the fire.

If the silver was left a moment too long in the flames, it would be destroyed. The woman was silent for a moment. Then she asked the silversmith, “How do you know when the silver is fully refined?”¬† He smiled at her and answered, “Oh, that’s easy — when I see my image in it.”

If today you are feeling the heat of the fire, remember that God has His eye on you and will keep watching you until He sees His image in you.

Published in: on October 10, 2010 at 10:34 am  Leave a Comment  
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