Green Things

I Received the posting in my email today ... I have lived through this time, and could add a bit more to it. Civilization is a demanding lady, and there is a price to pay for growth. I added my notes at the end...   In the line at the store, the cashier told the older woman that plastic bags weren't good for the environment. The woman apologized to her and explained, We didn't have the green thing back in my day. That's right, they didn't have the green thing in her day. Back then, they returned their milk bottles, Coke bottles and beer bottles to the store. The store sent them back to the plant to be washed and sterilized and refilled, using the same bottles over and over. So they really were recycled. But they didn't have the green thing back her day. In her day, they walked up stairs, because they didn't have an escalator in every store and office building. They walked to the grocery store and didn't climb into a 300-horsepower machine every time they had to go two blocks. But shes right. They didn't have the green thing in her day. Back then, they washed the baby's diapers because they didn't have the throw-away kind. They dried clothes on a line, not in an energy gobbling machine burning up 220 volts wind and solar power really did dry the clothes. Kids got hand-me-down clothes from their brothers or sisters, not always brand-new clothing. But that old lady was right, they didn't have the green thing back in her day. Back then, they had one TV, or radio, in the house not a TV in every room. And the TV had a small screen the size of a pizza dish, not a screen the size of the state of Montana. In the kitchen, they blended and stirred by hand because they didn't have electric machines to do everything for you. When they packaged a fragile item to send in the mail, they used wadded Up newspaper to cushion it, not store bought Styrofoam or plastic bubble wrap.  Oh, no, they didn't have the green thing in her day. Back then, they didn't fire up an engine and burn gasoline just to cut the lawn. They used a push mower that ran on human power. They exercised by working so they didn't need to go to a health club to run on treadmills that operate on electricity. But shes right, they didn't have the green thing back then. They drank from a fountain when they were thirsty, instead of using a cup or a plastic bottle every time they had a drink of water. They refilled pens with ink, instead of buying a new pen, and they replaced the razor blades in a razor instead of throwing away the whole razor just because the blade got dull. But they didn't have the green thing back in her day. Back then, people took the streetcar and kids rode their bikes to school or rode the school bus, instead of turning their moms into a 24-hour taxi service. They had one electrical outlet in a room, not an entire bank of sockets to power a dozen appliances. And they didn't need a computerized gadget to receive a signal beamed from satellites 2,000 miles out in space in order to find the nearest pizza joint. No, they didn't do the green thing in her day. That old lady was right. They didn't have the green thing back in her day.  Taking care of the environment wasn't a problem because they also didn't have all the destruction caused by OUR day.     My notes: Back in the day we didn't have antiperspirants, wash & wear clothes, instant cell phones for emergency calls, air bags and seat belts in cars, canned goods that didn't taste like tin, hypo-allergenic vacuums and room air cleaners. Restaurants and public places were filled with second hand smoke. We brushed with baking soda or brushing talc.   Back in the day we could mail a letter for $.02, and Christmas packages were tied up with brown paper and string. Morning began with percolators bubbling merrily on the back burners. Back in the day we had sock eggs for darning worn heels and toes on socks, and we turned collars and cuffs on shirts and blouses to lengthen their use. Back in the day I used to sit at a mangle iron, relishing the whosh, pop and starchy steam from the ironing.    Back in the day a lot of folks didn't recover from illnesses we shrug our shoulders at today. I remember the fear of summers when one-by-one folks were picked off and held prisoners from polio. I remember the hospitals with huge rooms filled with iron lungs. I remember my sister in the hospital under a tent with pnemonia. We had aspirin for a headache, and nothing for migraines. Visits to the dentist would send chills down a child's spine.  We lined up in school for shots, but nobody told us our meat or egg sandwiches (wrapped in waxed paper) were simmering pools of bacteria after hours on the shelf.    Things I miss most are folks on their front porches visiting with neighbors and offering never-ending pitchers of iced tea or lemonade. Christmas shopping AFTER Thanksgiving, where everybody gathered downtown in a flurry of excitement.. later gathering for a cup of hot cocoa before making our tired, happy way home. I miss making homemade bread for friends, because it is their favorite thing. Getting dressed up for very special occasions to go out for dinner. Ladies wearing gloves. Men opening doors. Lollipops with loopy handles. Corn Soya. 5 Cent comic books. And caroling in groups on Christmas eve. The smell of the original Jergens lotion and Lanlay Oil for my legs.    Back in the day there was no "credit card debt". Folks saved their money and shopped with cash. Some things weave like a thread, staying with us and keeping us in balance. Church. Family. Libraries. Parks. Picnics. Board games. Laughter. Changes bring good things, while sadly some dear old favorites have to stay behind. How about you.. do you have something special you remember?

Sickness

I hate to say this, but I, too have fallen to the sickies that have been going around. Hope to be up and chatting in a few days. In the meantime, be blessed... live, love, laugh and be happy! ♥

This is the Day

This is the day that the Lord has made..

What a day of remembrance for me, and for people around the world, as news of a 8.9 point earthquake shakes Japan and causes another tsunami. Truly a storm to be reckoned with, with so many lives affected, worldwide. (Update at 1:30 PM PDT - another 6.8 point earthquake hit Japan, a little further away. This is probably the aftermath shock of settlement. However, due to the fragile state from previous earthquake, and the tsunami, this one was even more devastating.)

We are helpless in the face of such storms. They cause us to remember how frail, fragile and feeble we are as humans. The tremors beneath our feet, the roar of the winds and the water, the shudder of buildings folding in under the onslaught... it is altogether terrifying. We who watch from afar fear for those caught in the midst of it.

In the meantime, we celebrate the birthday of a loved one, or an anniversary. Perhaps a marriage. Life goes on in the midst of the storm. We go to our jobs, happy to be able to provide a living for our family. We go to church; we kneel and pray.

Here in the desert it is 82 degrees, with sunshine and all the birds joyously announcing the warmer, spring weather. I sit at my keyboard, taking a moment to share thoughts about living one day at both extremes of the see-saw. I can't still the waves, or make the earth stop trembling. I can't rescue those facing disaster - not just Japan, Hawaii, the Pacific coastline, but people all over the planet whose day just isn't going well. They are toppled over by unexpected tragedy.

The good news is, in Jesus Christ's name I can pray for those folks. I can live assured that our God is an awesome God, and there is no tragedy so great that He isn't greater. We can run to Him and hide in the shelter of His wings. We can abide in Him.


This is how we become strong; this is how we persevere. Please join me in prayer today that God may touch these people and that they may come to know peace and rest in the arms of God. It is the least we can do.

A Hero's Funeral

 

 

 

Veterans Protect a Fallen Soldier's Funeral From Protesters - Amazing, Heroic Video!

www.godvine.com

I am posting this site for everybody to have the chance to take a look at what happens when people join together, in the love of the Lord, and show the world we are not full of hate.

This young soldier, only 25 years old was the target for protest - not because he had done something wrong, (he was a helicopter crew member who died in the line of duty), but because some folks had an agenda, and they decided this was a good place to air it.

A motorcycle ministry, led by a church pastor, showed up at the funeral and blocked the view of the protesters from the family, so the family could bury their son with love and dignity. Hundreds of American flags lined the way, as the army of the Lord stood their ground against the hate mongers.

This is how our country was founded. Americans standing together, shoulder-to-shoulder. We were founded through the grace of God. I simply had to share this joyous moment, as Christians stepped in for God, and showered this young hero with the love he deserved.
 
There wasn't just one hero at that funeral, there were hundreds doing the right thing, standing against oppression and loving with the love of the Lord.

 

A Bloom on the Rowes

Oh, what a joy! I just went into my garden and found that all my citrus trees I planted last May have flower buds on them - overnight. It is so exciting to see the work of my hands bloom and grow. 

Many of my attempts seemed so futile last summer, as I practiced gardening in the desert. I have always loved to garden, but most of it was done in Oregon, Michigan or in the Long Beach, California area. The desert is a new game, a new challenge for me.

When I find delight in creating something from nothing, in conditions that are so difficult, I can't help but wonder at the delight God sees when He creates us, molds us, shapes and tries to use us. We are like the desert - arid, windy and not so much inclined to bloom where we are planted. 

He does delight in us. And He created all things - for His pleasure. So perhaps when He plants us He has a little twinkle in His eye... then sits back to see all the fun. And He says: "Oh, the joy. I just went to my garden, and the children I planted last year bloomed overnight!"

Now, that's fruit that bears watching.  

Til Death Do Us Part

It began as just another day in the desert, and life was good. Job was a happy man... a man who served his God and experienced great blessings. He had a beautiful home (tent), and fabulous cars (healthy camels). His quiver was filled with children, and his herds thrived. He sat at the beautiful gate with all the men, and they called him blessed.  In the meantime, Mrs. Job was busy at home, keeping everything ticking along like clockwork. Although she was not seemingly important enough for her name to be written for all eternity to see, she was the catalyst that kept the family going. Long before the Proverbs were written, Mrs. Job was busy being a Proverbs 31 wife.

Then the Great Depression came, and with it came pestilence and loss of everything Job had been blessed with. In the midst of this drama, Job's friends gathered around to explain to him all the things he had done wrong. Job even questioned God.  The disease took hold of him and he was covered with boils all over his body... and nobody wanted to look at him, let alone touch him. He tore his clothes in anguish and threw ashes over his body. His grief had to be beyond belief. 

About that time, Mrs. Job came along and wailed at him for all the loss, grief and pain they were going through. Good touch, huh? Bad Mrs. Job.

But just wait a moment.  Let's consider her position, and what she was experiencing during that time. No children left, no livestock, no money, no honor in the community - most certainly she faced a lot of jeering. She probably would have covered her head in shame. As a wife and mother, she had run a tight ship, now it lay at her feet - dust among dust. 

Who would comfort her at this time? Who was there to tell her God would prevail? Who was there to encourage her everyday? She was accountable, but unattended. Broken and not lifted. Bereft and not comforted. But she still took care of all the needs of the home during this time. 

What do you think about this... please share your thoughts on this. Was she, as God stipulated to Adam and Eve, Job's helpmate, or his housekeeper? In the end Job received a double portion of all he had before. Do you think is is possible that is because Mrs. Job held the line during his God time? 

Looking forward to your thoughts. Have a Sonshiney day! ♥

Threads of Life

There have been so many wonderful people I have met along the way in my life, and I want to share some of their stories with you. So be looking for these on this adventure. If you have stories to share, let me know so we can get them posted. ♥

Women of Faith

Check out this site on Facebook, and plan to join some of your sisters in celebrating the Lord at a conference near you. 

http://www.facebook.com/womenoffaith#!/womenoffaith

The Fence

This is a story of hope too wonderful not to share. It is a true story of Herman Rosenblat, and his story is being made into a movie entitled "The Fence".

The sky was gloomy that morning as we waited anxiously.  All the men, women and children of Piotrkow's Jewish ghetto had been herded into a square. Word had gotten around that we were being moved. My fatherhad only recently died from typhus, which had run rampant
through the crowded ghetto. My greatest fear was that our family would be separated.

'Whatever you do,' Isidore, my eldest brother, whispered to me,'don't tell them your age. Say you're sixteen. 'I was tall for a boy of 11, so I could pull it off. That way I might be deemed valuable as a worker. An SS man approached me, boots clicking against the cobblestones.
He looked me up and down, and then asked my age.
'Sixteen,' I said. He directed me to the left, where my three brothers
and other healthy young men already stood. My mother was motioned to the right with the other women, children,sick and elderly people.

I whispered to Isidore, 'Why?'He didn't answer.

I ran to Mama's side and said I wanted to stay with her. 'No, 'she said sternly. 'Get away. Don't be a nuisance. Go with your brothers.' She had never spoken so harshly before. But I understood:  She was protecting me. She loved me so much that, just this once,
she pretended not to.  It was the last I ever saw of her.

My brothers and I were transported in a cattle car to Germany. We arrived at the Buchenwald concentration camp one night later and were led into a crowded barrack. The next day, we were issued uniforms and identification numbers.

'Don't call me Herman anymore.' I said to my brothers. 'Call me 94983.'

I was put to work in the camp's crematorium, loading the dead into a hand-cranked elevator. I, too, felt dead. Hardened, I had become a number. Soon, my brothers and I were sent to Schlieben, one of Buchenwald's sub-camps near Berlin. One morning I thought I heard my mother's voice.

'Son,' she said softly but clearly, I am going to send you an angel.'Then I woke up. Just a dream. A beautiful dream. But in this place there could be no angels. There was only work.
And hunger. And fear.

A couple of days later, I was walking around the camp, around the barracks, near the barbed-wire fence where the guards could not easily see. I was alone. On the other side of the fence, I spotted someone: a little girl with light,almost luminous curls. She was half-hidden behind a birch tree. I glanced around to make sure no one saw me. I called to her softly in
German. 

'Do you have something to eat?'

She didn't understand. I inched closer to the fence and repeated the question in Polish..
She stepped forward. I was thin and gaunt, with rags wrapped aroundmy feet, but the girl looked unafraid. In her eyes, I saw life. She pulled an apple from her woolen jacket and threw it over the fence. I grabbed the fruit and, as I started to run away, I heard her say
faintly,

'I'll see you tomorrow.'

I returned to the same spot by the fence at the same time every day.  She was always there with something for me to eat - a hunk of bread or, better yet, an apple. We didn't dare speak or linger. To be caught would mean death for us both. I didn't know anything about her, just a kind farm girl, except that she understood Polish. What was her name? Why was she risking her life for me? Hope was in such short supply, and this girl on the other side of the
fence gave me some, as nourishing in its way as the bread and apples. Nearly seven months later, my brothers and I were crammed into a coal car and shipped to Theresienstadt camp in Czechoslovakia.

'Don't return,' I told the girl that day. 'We're leaving.' I turned toward the barracks and didn't look back, didn't even say good-bye to the little girl whose name I'd never learned,
the girl with the apples.

We were in Theresienstadt for three months. The war was winding down and Allied forces were closing in, yet my fate seemed sealed. On May 10, 1945, I was scheduled to die in the gas chamber at 10:00 AM. In the quiet of dawn, I tried to prepare myself. So many times death
seemed ready to claim me, but somehow I'd survived. Now, it was over. I thought of my parents. At least, I thought, we will be reunited. But at 8 A.M. there was a commotion. I heard shouts, and saw people running every which way through camp. I caught up with my brothers. Russian troops had liberated the camp! The gates swung open. Everyone was running, so I did too. Amazingly, all of my brothers had survived.... I'm not sure how. But I knew that the girl with the apples had been the key to my survival. In a place where evil seemed triumphant, one person's goodness had saved my life, had given me hope in a place where there was none.

My mother had promised to send me an angel, and the angel had come.

Eventually I made my way to England where I was sponsored by a Jewish charity, put up in a hostel with other boys who had survived the Holocaust and trained in electronics. Then I came to America, where my brother Sam had already moved. I served in the U. S. Army during the Korean War, and returned to New York City after two years.  By August 1957 I'd opened my own electronics repair shop. I was starting to settle in.  One day, my friend Sid who I knew from England called me.

'I've got a date. She's got a Polish friend. Let's double date.' A blind date? Nah, that wasn't for me. But Sid kept pestering me, and a few days later we headed up to the
Bronx to pick up his date and her friend Roma.

I had to admit, for a blind date this wasn't so bad. Roma was a nurse at a Bronx hospital. She was kind and smart. Beautiful, too, with swirling brown curls and green, almond-shaped eyes that sparkled with life. The four of us drove out to Coney Island. Roma was easy to talk to,
easy to be with. Turned out she was wary of blind dates too! We were both just doing our friends a favor. We took a stroll on the boardwalk, enjoying the salty Atlantic breeze, and then had dinner bythe shore. I couldn't remember having a better time.

We piled back into Sid's car, Roma and I sharing the backseat. As European Jews who had survived the war, we were aware that much had been left unsaid between us. She broached the subject,'Where were you,' she asked softly, 'during the war?'

'The camps,' I said. The terrible memories still vivid, the irreparable loss. I had tried to forget. But you can never forget.

She nodded. 'My family was hiding on a farm in Germany, not far from Berlin,' she told me. 'My father knew a priest, and he got us Aryan papers.There was a camp next to the farm.' Roma continued. 'I saw a boy there and I would throw him apples every day.'What an amazing coincidence that she had helped some other boy. What did he look like? I asked.

'He was tall, skinny, and hungry. I must have seen him every day for six months.'

My heart was racing. I couldn't believe it. This couldn't be. 'Did he tell you one day not to come back because he was leaving Schlieben?'

Roma looked at me in amazement. 'Yes!'

'That was me!'

I was ready to burst with joy and awe, flooded with emotions. I couldn't believe it! My angel. 'I'm not letting you go.' I said to Roma. And in the back of the car on that blind date, I proposed to her. I didn't want to wait. 'You're crazy!' she said. But she invited me to meet her parents for Shabbat dinner the following week.

There was so much I looked forward to learning about Roma, but the most important things I always knew: her steadfastness, her goodness. For many months, in the worst of circumstances, she had come to the fence and given me hope. Now that I'd found her again, I could never let her go.

That day, she said yes. And I kept my word. After nearly 50 years of marriage, two children and three grandchildren, I have never let her go.

Herman Rosenblat of Miami Beach, Florida 

(This story is being made into a movie called The Fence.)

Miracles in Progress

 This is my first attempt at blogging! They say you can't teach an old dog new tricks, but I am giving it a go, anyway. Our family ministry "Miracles in Progress" has several pages on Facebook, but I am continually being led of the Lord to create a broader forum for discussion. So, after many errors, starting over and wondering if I would ever be smart enough to do this simple thing... here I am!

Let me say at the start that this is not a political platform. This is not a crusade to blast other religions, churches, races, homosexuals or any other militant issues.  It IS a platform to share moments of our lives, stories, ideas and events. Just share with me honest to goodness living, embracing what the Lord has done for you, today. Let's shine a little light into the darkness, one little miracle at a time.

I am just one person, with one little light. But co-joined with other lights, we can blaze a glorified Jesus, and offer hope to the hopeless. And possibly an open door that others might enter.