When I was a child....

When I was a child, my Mom read to me from a big Bible Story book.  Well, it was big to a small girl.  The cover was rather plain, but inside, now that's where the wonderful things were.  It not only contained stories, which still thrill me, but it also had the most beautiful pictures.  I didn't realize until I grew up that it contained paintings from the Masters.  Gorgeous, lovely, inspiring paintings! They were truly magnificent.  As my Mom would read I would stare at the pictures and be taken to a different time and place.

I don't know where Mom got the book from.  I doubt she understood the profound impact that book had on me.  But I know she would like it.  If I tried I might be able to get her to understand.  But she's 91 and her mind doesn't always comprehend what I try to tell her.  But I do know she intended for me to know the awesome truths held there in that book.  She did want me to love God and serve him.

She did a good thing.

I think maybe parents now a days are way too busy to read many Bible stories to their children.  I hope and pray I'm wrong.  But I know life is terribly busy.  A thousand things are calling to them. There are wonderful stories on YouTube and Roku.  But there is just something about holding a child in your lap or right snug beside you and reading to them.  Close enough to steal a kiss or hug.  




Before I forget... the paintings.  They, I believe, were the seeds of my love of beauty and the arts. I'm a creative person.  Once years ago, we went to New York and I got to see the original paintings of the Masters. It was unbelievable!  My husband had to drag me away.  I was so moved.  They spoke to me just as they had as a child. I can't paint but I love crafts and creating.  But I do enjoy art and music. Those seeds planted so long ago have enriched my life and through me my children's and grand children's.  I think art and stories make a person realize they are part of something bigger than themselves.  That we have a creator.

Funny isn't it?  Something as simple as sitting in a chair reading with full attention to a small child could help influence their lives for eternity.  What a wonderful thing!  

Paper dolls, "Barbies" and Stories

My hubby, Paul and I were at a nice restaurant yesterday.  The kind with cloth napkins, wonderful smells and soft music.  When we first sat down I observed all the people sitting in my view of the room.  I noticed one young woman.  After a while I tried to describe her to Paul.  She was a "type" to me. I imagined she might be a pastor's wife, definitely a church go-er.  A bland type I had known back when Paul was a pastor and we had to go to meetings.  Most pastor's wives aren't that kind but some are.  They look like the life has been sucked right out of them.  Like they never had an idea of their own. Always did what others expected of them.  Back in my mother's day she might have been described as a milk-toast sort.  I think they used that term for women too.  I know they did for men. Anyway, she was vanilla to other people's mocha chocolate.  She lacked personality. Flat.   Kind of what Jackie O was first perceived as before she became Jackie O.  As I described her to Paul I realized I had lived in too many different places and met way too many people if I was beginning to see them as "characters" instead of people.

Do you ever do that?  Prejudge someone as a "type"?  You know you ask questions like: What do you do?  Do you have children? What church do you go to? How long have you lived here?  Sure you are trying to get to know them but are you pegging them?  putting them in a category? in a hole? In a neat little niche?  Instead of seeing them as the complex, surprising, interesting people that they most likely are?

It's like when I was a child.  I had Barbie dolls.  Well, my Mom didn't like "Barbie" dolls so I had off brand "Barbies".  Mom thought the real ones were ugly so I had off brand ones.  And back than they were made of the same sturdy stuff as a real "Barbie" not the cheap hollow plastic kinds like now a days.

As I was saying I had my little "Barbie" doll family.  There was Tressy, Tammy her somewhat chubbier sister, Pepper their younger sister with freckles and unruly hair that always ended up in a pony tail, and the real Ken's little brother Ricky with freckles and reddish brown hair.  He came in a swimsuit with a cover up with stripes.  He never had other clothes though the girls dolls had a variety.  My mom made evening gowns for Tressy that were a wee bit tight for Tammy.  They were so pretty.  I always thought it was a little ironic since we were church going people who never ever would have went to a night club. But my dolls were all decked out in elegant evening wear.  Back then people wore elegant evening wear to night clubs.  Or at least in the 1940's gangster movies with James Cagney and Humphrey Bogart that I watched that was what they wore.

I digress.  I had this wonderful "Barbie" family which I still remember well this some odd years later. They were real and alive to me with personalities and quirks.  Tressey had a button in her belly that you could press and her hair would grow and then you could press it and twist the hair and push it back in to look like you gave her a hair cut.  To me they were real. I spent hours acting out their lives. My friends would sometimes play with me and we would dress them and undress them and fix their hair this way and that.  They had lives!  Glamorous, exciting lives, people!!!! Places to go. People to meet.  I'm digressing again.....


Then I also had paper dolls.  Yes,  that is about all I remember about them.  I know I had them.  But for the life of me I can't remember them.  There is a shadow of memory but they just don't come to the surface where I can remember any details.  They were after all disposable. Unmemorable.  Long gone.  Unimportant in the scheme of things.  Apparently uninteresting.

As I thought of the young woman in the restaurant last night.  Did I see her as a paper doll type?  Not important? Unmemorable?  Did I peg her as uninteresting?  Since I was just passing in a restaurant I guess it's not really important.  Or is it?  Was I sensitive to the Holy Spirit?  What if I needed to send a quick prayer up for her?  She may have needed it.  I saw her more like a character in a book then a flesh and blood person.

I'll let you in on a little secret.  I will admit with some shame on my part, I have written off the "paper doll" types before. At church, at work, at Walmart. Yes, me.  My hand is raised.   But sometimes  to my amazement as I was around some of these types I found out they were not "paper doll" types at all!!!  They had depth and character.  They were like I heard someone say once.  Still waters run deep.  They were actually quite interesting.   They had a story.  They had full active lives filled with interesting thoughts, people, family....and real stories.  Stories of victory and defeat. Love and loss. Passion and joy.  Sorrow and excitement. Better than any on screen character I had ever seen.  And I had wrote them off in my mind.  Shame on me!  I dearly, dearly love a story.  And I almost missed theirs.  Because I prejudged them as a mere "paper doll", milk toast type.

If you have stuck with me this long you might be wondering... so what?   Well, I want to ask.  Have you ever done this?  And worse yet.  Have you ever done this to yourself?  I'm uninteresting.  I'm a nobody.  I'm a loser.  I'm unimportant.  What do I have to offer?

Well let me tell you sister or brother!  God loves you!!!  He doesn't see you as a paper doll type. Flat and uninteresting. He knows you are the real deal.  A real doll. With clothes and a house and Pink cases and friends and a car and a place you live and stories to tell.   No flat paper doll, throw away person.  He loves your story.  He was a part of it, even if you didn't know he was there.  He never ever, ever writes us off.  He sees us!!! He sees you!!!  He sees the people he brings across your path.  You never just melt into the crowd in his eyes.  You are never a wall flower to him.  And neither are they.

So friend, don't write off anyone.  Don't miss their story. Don't miss your story.  And remember the originator of all stories, God himself is interested in you.  If you don't already know him, I urge you to get to know him and his story.  It's awfully interesting...... and you are in it!

Stories, Everyone has one

Never trust anyone who has not brought a book with them.  Lemoney  Snicket.

I have always loved stories.  I remember sitting in a big chair with my Mom reading from the Bible Story book. It had exquisite pictures. I remember my Dad and Uncles telling stories of how fast they drove to get back home to Tennessee.  And arguing over who drove there the quickest without getting a ticket.  But that's another post.  I loved hearing their stories and other's stories.  Every Sunday we were at one of my Uncles houses and there were stories of what happened since last week and what the neighbors were doing. What funny thing each had seen or done that week.   We were a loud, happy group always with a story.

And as a child I met many a friend in a book.  Huck Finn. The Happy Hollisters.  Nancy Drew.  The Little Red Hen.  Peter Pan.  The Cat in the Hat before the movie ruined him.  I joined in with them in their adventures.  I loved them truly with all my little girl heart.  Then there was those people on TV like Caption Kangaroo who told stories and had cartoons with stories.  I loved Davey and Goliath on the TV show.  I could go on an on.  

As I grew older I remember reading in the Detroit News the story Black Like Me.  It opened my eyes to a different point of view.  I read Dave Wilkerson's  The Cross and the Switchblade.   I saw there were problems in the world but God could help.  Autobiographies, biographies..stories lovely stories.  

As I said I LOVE them.  They make life better.  They teach truths without nagging.  They give your mind something worthwhile to think about so you won't be one of those people that gets BORED.  How can you be bored if you can remember a story that captivates you every time?

Also our stories, our families' stories, are important.  We are not really telling these stories.  For all the neatness of the internet, we are not talking with each other.  We aren't telling how Uncle Arnold's brother's cut down a tree with him in it.  (True story..haha)  We aren't telling what it was like to move to Detroit city from rural Tennessee or why we moved there.  We need to share our stories with each other.  How did you come to be a Christian?  How did you meet your husband or wife?  What did I look like as a baby?  I guess we need to become storytellers again.  And teach children to be curious and ask questions again.  We need to slow down and talk more.

So draw up a chair, grab some sweet tea or lemonade, put up your feet.  Let's sit together on His porch in the warm sunshine and share our hearts.  Let's share our stories.  Heart to heart.  What's new with you?  What's He done for you?  What other stories have you heard?  Let me tell you my story.  Let me tell you a story I've read.  Come with me on an adventure......  When I was a little girl.  I had a bike.  Her name was Cindy.  She was teal blue and Daddy got her from the Sears store when I was 7.  I had so many adventures on her.  She was like a story....a way to have adventures.  You just had to hop on and ride.  I hope you will hop on the storytelling vehicle and see where the adventure takes you.