Guardian Angels Rock

Guardian Angels Rock. I hope everyone in the world has guardian angels as good and as skilled as mine.

We’ve had two to three weeks of nearly constant gale-force winds and sometimes blinding rain here in our part of Scotland. The wind has been strong enough to move things. A few nights ago when I walked Savannah during a lull in the storm I tripped over a large roll of chain link fence that had blown into the sidewalk. With streetlights out, it was invisible. I’ve had a back surgery, a knee replacement, and a hip replacement. Falling is not medically recommended. My guardian angel caught me and kept me upright. I was so close to going down that I still don’t know how he did it.

Today, I went to turn out of the parking lot into the main street and a car that did not have its turn signal on abruptly cut directly in front of me. I missed it by mere inches. Then I drove up the steep hill toward our road and a dog ran out into my lane of traffic. (A lot of fences are down.) I had to come to a complete stop to keep from hitting it. Whew! Good job, Guardian Angel. Thank you.

When son Luke was nine, we went exploring in the Nevada desert in our little Ford Courier pickup truck. “Mom, stop,” Luke warned as I took a winding dirt road along a deep gully. “You’re going to get stuck.”

Being the parent—I was right. Right? Being the parent—I was in control. Right? Wrong. The back wheels skid off the road going around a steep bend and slipped down the hill half-way to the bottom. Oops! No one even knew where we were—and cell phones hadn’t been invented back then. Luke and I prayed. Then we began walking through the trackless desert back the way we had come. An old man on a walking stick met us and asked what happened. I explained. “Stay with your truck,” he instructed. “I’ll be right back to pull you out.”

When God answers a prayer—He answers in a big way. The man came back in a dump truck and pulled us out. A couple of days later, Luke and I baked cookies and bought a thank you card to take to him. We couldn’t find him. No house, no driveway, no dump truck…nothing but miles of empty desert. God had sent us an angel—who drove a dump truck.

Years later here in Scotland, I was in Inverness waiting for a bus to go to the retail shopping center to get the only kind of food and dog treats that our collie Angel Joy could eat because she had been ill. It was a freezing day of sleet and snow. I had moved from Texas to Scotland—and had not adjusted to the 40-degree drop in temperature. (Truth be told—I still haven’t.) There were so many people waiting for buses at the bus stop that I couldn’t even shelter under the roof with everyone else. I was so cold and miserable that I honestly felt like forgetting everything and just going home. Before I could act on that impulse, a bus chugged up and stopped—not in front of the bus stop—but in front of me. It looked like a bus from a third-world country. It was not painted the color of the Inverness City buses and it was old and battered. It looked like the bus out of the 1964 “Moon Spinners” movie starring Hayley Mills and set in Crete. I was amazed that none of the other people headed for the bus. There was no sign on the front of the bus indicating where it was going. The door opened. “Do you go to the retail park?” I asked. The driver smiled at me. “Anywhere you want to go, little lady.”

I was the only person on the bus. Briefly, I wondered if I were being kidnapped—but who would kidnap me? I wasn’t worth any money. For just a few coins, the bus rattled off down the street and deposited me at the retail center a few minutes later. I never saw that bus in Inverness again. Some angels drive buses.

Not everyone believes in angels. Sad. Their guardian angels must not be as good as mine.

“For He shall give His angels charge over you, to keep you in all your ways.”Psalm 91:11.

“So not forget to entertain strangers, for by so doing some have unwittingly entertained angels.” Hebrews 13:2.

You never know where you’ll meet angels. Some drive heavy equipment.

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Diamonds for Death

Widow Lila Sparrow moved into a large nest on the edge of a tree branch overlooking a meadow. She had barely moved into the nest when a gale approached from the north.

The other birds, who had nests further back in the strand of trees worried about her. “Come stay with us,” they invited, “until the wind calms down.”

Lila stuck her beak into the air. “Don’t try to trick me,” she said. “I’m too smart for you. I’ve always had ugly little nests before. I’ve always wanted a fine home to show everyone how smart and beautiful I am. This is the best nest in this little forest and everyone wants it. If I fly out to stay with you, someone will rush in and steal my new home.” So Lila stayed in her nest even as gale-force winds thrashed the tree limbs and striped the few remaining leaves off the winter-stricken tree. Deep in the forest, the other birds visited with one another and sang cheerfully through the strong wind—but Lila was too afraid to sing.

After the gale blew itself out, the birds came to Lila and invited her to the flying games in the forest. “It’s an aerial obstacle course,” they explained, “and the winner is the bird who completes it in the least amount of time. After the games, we will hold a treasure hunt in the woods. The winner will be the one who finds and collects the largest number of dried-up blackberries. Then we will have a picnic together.”

Lila stuck her beak into the air. “Don’t try to trick me,” she said. “I’m too smart for you. This is the best nest in this little forest and everyone wants it. If I leave it—someone will steal it. Go away and leave me alone.”

A deep cold from the Arctic dropped down into the forest. The temperature plunged to below zero and ice blanketed everything. The birds came to Lila. “It will be the coldest it has ever been here in our little forest tonight,” they told her, “and you have the biggest nest. Let us come and stay with you in your nest. If we huddle together, we will stay warm enough to survive the cold. But if we face the cold alone—we will die.”

Lila stuck her beak into the air. “Don’t try to trick me,” she said. “I’m too smart for you. Go away and leave me alone.” She pointed a wing at the meadow. “You know I have a meadow full of diamonds and a path of rubies. You do not want to keep me warm—you want to steal my diamonds and rubies.”

“No, Lila,” Grandpa Sparrow said. “Don’t you realize that those sparkling jewels in your meadow are not diamonds? They are ice crystals because it is so cold. And those rubies are drops of blood from a young boy who fell and cut his arm on the ice. Please let us stay with you tonight. Or, come stay with us. We don’t have much room, but we will squeeze tightly together. We must stay together and work together to survive the deep cold tonight.”

But Lila stuck her beak into the air and said, “No, no! Go away and leave me alone. I will not let anyone steal my diamonds and rubies.”

The other birds in the little forest huddled together in their nests and warmed the night air around them. In the morning, they went to check on Lila. Her nest was empty.

She lay cold and stiff below the tree amid her field of sparkling diamonds—diamonds which melted and vanished beneath the morning sun.

“But seek the kingdom of God and all these things shall be added to you…a treasure in the heavens that does not fail.” Luke 12:33

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When Plans Fail

(Cover of my soon-to-be released new book.)

One of my joys in life is helping in children’s church. I love finding an object lesson to tie in with each story. This time, I had found the perfect fit. The lesson was on gifts of the Spirit. Confidently, I held up a lemon in one hand and an apple in the other hand and asked the children which one they would rather eat. To my chagrin, ALL of them replied, “the lemon.”

Sometimes our plans fail.

My plan for the day was simple and fail-proof. I would write all morning.

The editor had promised to have my newly finished book back to me so I could make the final corrections. She didn’t.

I had my husband dressed and ready for the ambulance to pick him up for his trip to the cancer doctor across the water. At the last minute, he decided to change clothes. The phone rang and it was the vet’s office wanting our collie Savannah back for injections to treat her severe pancreatitis. The phone rang again. It was a gas engineer needing to check the boiler in our rental house. We weren’t expecting him, but he had already come across the water and needed to get into our house.

I helped my husband out to the ambulance in his wheelchair, took the wheelchair back to the house, and put Savannah into the car for her trip to the vet. I hadn’t had time to walk her yet, so I took her for a brief walk before I took her into the vet’s. She had diarrhea. Before the vet could take her temperature, she had to clean Savannah’s bottom.

I got back home to find a delivery from Amazon on the porch and the gas man waiting across the street in his van. The delivery contained a broken jar of dill pickles and pickle juice pooled at the front door. The gas engineer followed me inside, but the boiler is in the attic and I couldn’t find the thingy that opens the trap door to the attic steps.

The vet had asked me to take a photo of the label on Savannah’s food and email it to her so we could make sure the food wasn’t part of the problem. The memory card on the camera was locked. I couldn’t figure out how to unlock it. So I took Savannah’s food out of the freezer and copied the ingredients into an email to send the vet’s office. By this time, the engineer had found the thingy to unlock the steps and had inspected the boiler, but he couldn’t find the outlet for it. While searching, he slipped on the waterlogged back deck and almost fell. His foot went through a weak place in the wood. Fortunately, he was able to extract his foot without damage to either himself or the porch.

I hit the “send” key on my computer for the email to the vet, and went to help the gas engineer search for the outlet from the boiler. Neither of us could find it. The engineer needed to use the toilet before he left, and I realized much to my chagrin that I had never finished cleaning it yet—a job I had started at 6:30 a.m. when I got up. Because Alan can’t walk and has to use a bedside commode and I have to empty it into the toilet—the toilet needs to be cleaned rather often.

I heaved a sigh of relief when the gas engineer left and I could return to my plan. Spending the morning writing.

I glanced at the clock beside my desk. It was noon.

“A person’s heart plans their way, but the LORD directs the steps.” Sometimes He directs us into patience-building excursions.

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What I Didn’t Get For Christmas

I didn’t get a new car for Christmas. That’s okay—I don’t need a new car.

I didn’t get jewelry for Christmas. That’s okay—I don’t wear jewelry.

I didn’t get new clothes. No problem. I don’t need new clothes.

I didn’t get a designer handbag. No problem. I don’t even know what names qualify as designer handbags—and I seldom carry a purse anyway.

I didn’t get books, DVDs, perfume, or fruit baskets. Praise the Lord for that—our house is so small we’re out of room for anything extra, and we couldn’t eat the fruit before it spoiled.

Praise Jesus for the important things we didn’t get for Christmas; discord, anger, grief, fighting, jealousy, drunkenness, discontent.

What we unwrapped this Christmas was joy, love, contentment, peacefulness, promise, healing—everlasting gifts that will never wear out, get lost, or get thrown out.

We had the best Christmas ever.

The LORD says, “I will make them and the places all around My hill a blessing; and I will cause showers to come down in their season; there shall be showers of blessing.” Ezekiel 34:26.

We had God’s showers of blessing. We pray that you may unwrap that gift in 2024.

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No Christmas Snow

Growing up in the southern US, we never had snow for Christmas. We almost never had snow. That didn’t bother me. Even then—I hated cold. I suppose my hatred of snow and cold was partly because our family was too poor to afford warm clothes.

One thing that bothered me from a young age was Christmas cards. They portrayed wintery, snowy scenes that made it appear that it wasn’t Christmas without snow. I would wonder, “Where are the Christmas cards for people like us? Doesn’t anyone realize how beautiful our landscape is at Christmas and all during the year? What about the folks who live further south and have never seen snow? Where are the Christmas cards for them?”

Other things that bothered me even before I became a Christian were Santa and gifts. I grew up amid folks who could not afford to give gifts at Christmas, and children who never got anything from Santa. Did it make them feel worthless? That bothered me a lot. It still does. I knew families who considered one bag of sugar, or one sweet potato, or one handful of laundry soap priceless Christmas gifts.

Every family has its own Christmas traditions. One of ours was a tangerine in the bottom of a stocking with a few pieces of chocolate on top. I traded my tangerine to my clueless younger siblings for chocolate. Or, perhaps—being the oldest—I bullied them. Thankfully, I don’t remember—but I do know that I never ate the tangerine.

We had a tradition of going out into our pasture and finding and cutting down a pine tree and decorating the house on December, 20, my birthday. And because my parents were atheists, “Santa” was big at our house. When I started school at age 5 and the other children were singing “Silent Night,” “Joy to the World,” and “Away in a Manger”—I was perplexed by the words. I didn’t understand. God was not allowed to exist at our house, and “Jesus” was a swear word that we children were not allowed to use.

When my son Luke was a child, I started our own tradition. We never opened Christmas gifts until after I read Luke, Chapter 2, verses 1-20. We kept that tradition up until he left home to serve in the U.S. Marine Corps.

We have a friend in Finland. She writes to us every Christmas with lovely tales about “Father Christmas” and Finnish food and traditions. She is passing those customs down to her grandchildren. And, yes, they involve snow. Lots of snow.

All around the globe, folks will be celebrating their own special Christmas customs and traditions in their own climates. But no matter the place around the globe, the distance from the equator, or the weather—one thing is the same everywhere. Jesus is the Reason for the Season.

And it came to pass in those days that a decree went out from Caesar Augustus that all the world should be taxed. So all went to be registered, everyone to his own city. Joseph also went up from Galilee, out of the city of Nazareth, unto Judea, to the city of David, which is called Bethlehem, because he was of the house and lineage of David, to be registered with Mary, his betrothed wife who was with child. So it was, that while they were there, the days were completed for her to be delivered, and she brought forth her firstborn Son, and wrapped Him in swaddling clothes, and laid Him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn. Now there were in the same country shepherds living out in the fields keeping watch over their flock by night, and behold, an angel of the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were greatly afraid. Then the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid, for behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy which will be to all people. For there is born to you this day in the city of David, a Savior, who is Christ the Lord. And this will be the sign to you: you will find a Babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger.” And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God and saying: “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, goodwill toward men!”

And that—in any spot on the globe—wrapped in any local traditions and customs—is Christmas. With or without snow.

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Should Have Been in Murphy’s Law

I have recently discovered some laws that Murphy should have included in his famous list. For example, you pull into a nearly empty parking lot—and knowing you will return to your car with a wide parcel—you park in the middle of the empty spaces. You return to your car to discover that all the empty spaces are still empty—except the one next to your car where the driver has parked so close to you that you can’t open the door without hitting their car.

It is cold, windy, and wet. You put your dog in the car and drive her to an empty field away from houses to let her out to take care of necessities. Since the weather is so foul and there is no one and nothing in sight, you take off the leash to let her do what she needs to do. She goes poo in tall grass along a fence where: no one ever walks; no one will ever see, and the poo is destined to disintegrate into soil and feed nutrients to wildflowers. Then out of nowhere comes a man walking a dog. Not just any kind of dog—a hound dog with a strong nose. The hound dog is on a leash and leads his master straight over to the poo you decided not to pick up. So you spend the rest of the day wondering who the man is; is he really just someone out walking his dog—or is he the doggie poo police? Will you be receiving a bill or a fine in the mail? Or does he just think you are a thoughtless jerk?

These should have been included in Murphy’s Law.

The Bible says, “Be sure your sins will find you out.” But, then again, It might just be Murphy working on the second edition of his laws.

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The Fragile Tracery of Trees

I hate winter. I hate cold.

Two things I enjoy about winter; the dance and swirl of falling leaves as they get one more chance at life before they descend into a forever rest, and the fragile tracery of trees—made visible by vanishing leaves.

I gaze in wonder at the twisted limbs—different shapes, different breadths—each one unique, having been given the individual attention that the Creator of the universe bestows on all His creations. The fragile tracery of trees tell a story. They remind me of people.

Some have faced such buffeting from the wind and over-burdening from rain and snow that they have been severely thrust down—but instead of accepting defeat or dropping off the tree—they have slowly twisted and turned and reached for the sky again. Some have been shouldered aside by stronger, faster growing trees in their path—so they have turned away and established their own path to the sun.

Some have lost pieces. Yet they still grow.

Sometimes as I gaze in wonder at the fragile tracery of trees, I match them to folks I know—or have known. I especially think of those who are battling severe storms in their lives and continuing to grow…and I pray for them. Sometimes as I gaze in wonder at the fragile tracery of trees, I match them to things I’ve faced in my life—and I thank Jesus for bringing me out on the other side…with my face to the sun.

Life on this earth is as fleeting as the autumn dance of leaves. Therefore, the Bible says in 2 Timothy 2:3, we must endure hardship as good solders of Jesus Christ and turn our faces to the sun. We have an example: the fragile tracery of trees.

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Seriously?

Just happened across a headline bemoaning the fact that “trolls” were criticizing a tampon designed for transgender men. Seriously?

I’m from Texas. I know that you can put a saddle and bridle on a longhorn steer and ride it in a parade. We do that in my home town. But if we put a saddle and a bridle on a longhorn and hang a sign around its neck and on both horns proclaiming, “I am a horse,” and ride it in a parade no one will take it seriously—except for the humor element. You can put a sign on a longhorn to label it as a horse—but that doesn’t make it a horse.

I’m tired of all the folks who are offended by everything they disagree with. I’m offended by them. God created women with a body opening that is designed—among other things—to release blood during menstruation. God created men with an appendage that among other things—fits into a woman’s body opening and completes her nicely. One bane that women endure that men don’t is dealing with monthly cycles. For me, anyway, it was a relief to get to the time of my life when I’m past the fuss and mess of the monthly need for tampons. And transgender men want to take that on—seriously?

How sad. My heart hurts for a world that has moved so far away from God and His creation that men want to encumber themselves with tampons. My head aches from the idea of those poor misguided fools who have moved so far away from God that they would waste time “inventing” a tampon for men. No wonder the Bible says in Psalm 14:1, “The fool has said in his heart, there is no God.”

All to keep from offending the easily offended.

I’m offended. I’m offended that those who have not earned the right to share my experience as a woman are attempting to steal it.

“In the beginning God created…So God created man in His own image, in the image of God He created him; male and female He created them.” Genesis 1:27.

No matter how many people are offended, one cannot hang a sign on the horns of a longhorn and create a horse.

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A Good Attitude Equals Altitude

We choose our altitude daily by choosing our attitude. Today was a good example for me.

A man stood beside his car which was parked along the curb in the traffic lane. His door was partially open. He was on the phone. Because of oncoming traffic, I was forced to stop behind his car and wait before I could go around him and continue. Minor irritation.

After I turned into Dunoon and parked, a young mother came along the sidewalk with her child. A window cleaner had his ladder leaning against the building on the corner and was busy at work. The toddler clapped his hands in excitement and asked, “Is he cleaning the window? Is that his ladder?” The mother stooped down to the child’s level and said, “Yes, Cameron. Well done. The man is cleaning the window. That is his ladder. Is it safe for Cameron to climb his ladder?”

The young boy considered the height of the building and the top of the ladder and shook his head. “Cameron might fall.” The mother hugged him and agreed. “Yes. Well done. Cameron should never climb a ladder he sees leaning against a building because Cameron might fall.”

I laughed and complimented the mother for the good job she was doing teaching her son. It made her smile. Her smile made me smile. Making the mother smile brightened my day. An attitude with altitude.

It made me think; had I leaned out the window and yelled at the driver beside his car talking on the phone—it would not have brightened my day. I could have chosen to justify my action by rationalizing; “He is inconsiderate. He should have enough sense not to stand beside his car and talk on his phone when he is blocking traffic.”

Perhaps it was inconsiderate of the driver. But perhaps when his phone rang it was an emergency from home; important news from a doctor about his medical condition, or a call from the hospital where his wife was in critical condition. Not knowing the circumstances that caused him to answer the phone before he got into his car leaves me in no position to judge his actions. It does give me a choice—bad attitude and low altitude, or good attitude and soaring.

I chose an attitude with altitude. I chose joy.

“A person has joy by the answer of their mouth, and a word spoken in due season, how good it is!” Proverbs 15:23.

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Confused Blessings

Two weeks ago I had a cataract removed from my left eye. Wow! I can see the numbers on our car’s speedometer again.

I never realized how one little cataract—one little blind spot in my eye—was affecting my vision until it was removed. For the first time in about 29 years, I don’t need to wear glasses for reading and working on the computer. One little blind spot. All of us have blind spots in our minds and spirits that prevent us from seeing the truth even when the truth camps in front of us. But back to confused blessings.

While restored sight is a tremendous blessing—it also creates confusion. At least for me. I sit down at the computer and reach for my glasses. I can’t find them. I can’t find them because I removed them after realizing that every time I reached for them and put them on—I couldn’t see anything. So to remove wasted time and effort, I removed the glasses. Confused blessing.

Five years ago my husband Alan retired and we moved from the wild, lovely Black Isle in the Scottish Highlands to the seafront town of Dunoon. We didn’t want to move. We could walk from our house down to the point and take pictures of dolphins leaping out of the water. We could drive a short distance and walk through a truly enchanted forest. I’ve used it in several of my books. We had lovely friends and a marvelous Monday Night Bible study with praise and worship, prayer, inspirational testimonies, and enjoyable fellowship. We didn’t want to leave. However, my husband was the minister of three churches, which were in the process of combining, and an uproar that wasn’t his fault waved him right out the doors and sent us to Dunoon. It didn’t seem like a blessing at the time—but we realize more of what a blessing it is every day. We now have a lovely church family, I have written dozens of books, and the doctors here actually investigated my husband’s health and found the cancer in his kidney, and in his blood—cancer that was stealing his life. It had been overlooked in the Black Isle. Confused blessings.

Fourteen years ago, I left my Texas home in the unique Texas Hill Country with tears streaming down my face. I stood beside the open door of my loaded pickup truck praying and waiting for God to send a miracle so I could stay. But He didn’t. I didn’t want to leave. Oh, I so didn’t want to leave. But since my newspaper job had moved along without me, I was out of a job and I had been unable to find another one. It was the first time in my life that I had ever been jobless. However, leaving Bandera, relocating in Alabama, and eventually marrying Alan and moving to Scotland—all of these things hold their own blessings. I left Bandera with one book accepted by a publishing company, but not yet published. Now I have 42 books published. Confused blessings.

God’s word promises in Romans 8:28, “All things work together for good to those who love the Lord. It’s my favorite verse in the Bible, so I shouldn’t be surprised that confused blessings are often the sweetest.

We all have holes—if not in our physical eyes—in our minds and spirits.

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