"If a man does not make new acquaintance as he advances through life, he will soon find himself left alone. A man, Sir, should keep his friendships in constant repair." ~Samuel Johnson

I've been reading a book called The Art of Neighboring.  I'm about 3/4 of the way through, and although interesting, it is really nothing earth shattering, or revolutionary.  The focus of the book is to encourage the reader to connect on a personal level with people, beginning with those who live in our neighborhoods.  It offers suggestions such as baking cookies to take to new neighbors, or offering to help a neighbor you see who might be struggling with an outdoor project.  Common sense things, it would seem.

It is sad to me that the need for such a book exists.  When I was growing up, we knew our neighbors.  We knew about their lives, where they worked, and where they went to church.  I took piano lessons from the lady 3 doors down, and I played with kids from all over the neighborhood.  Of the sixteen or so houses on our street, I knew the names of everyone who lived in those homes.  I also frequently went inside of at least twelve of those houses - usually to play with their children, or to babysit.  I knew the stories of these families, and they knew ours.  These days, people in most neighborhoods generally don't know one another.  We drive out of our garages each morning, and back into them each evening, with nothing more than an occasional wave as we pass.

Not only were we connected with our neighbors when I was growing up, but we had an even stronger connection with our brethren.  It was not uncommon for someone to stop by on a Saturday, just because they happened to be near our neighborhood.  In fact, it was uncommon for that NOT to happen.  And we did the same.  Those people were closer than family.  Our home was their home, and vice versa.  We knew each other intimately, shared each others' joys, and helped each other through difficulties.  I've often wondered how my brethren here and now would react if I just showed up at their door one day because I happened to be in the neighborhood.  I don't really know what the response would be because people just don't do that sort of thing anymore.  And as a result, we don't know each other as well as brethren did in times' past.

Sadly, I don't think the "art of neighboring" exists on the scale it once did, and I think the reasons for that are many.  Perhaps the main reason is the very thing I'm doing right now - using the internet.  While blogging, Facebook, email, and texting can be a wonderful source for keeping in touch, many tend to use those media as their only source of communication.  When our girls were in Junior High, one of their friends lost her father, and I took the girls to the funeral.  During the eulogy, the only mention of this man's friendships was his "online friends."  The minister read from "posts" he had printed of these far away online friends' words of sympathy.   I remember being shocked by that, and wondering why he didn't touch the lives of those he saw daily - or if he did, why no mention was made of them.

So, what's the solution?  How do we get back to the place where we interact with people on a more personal level?  Log off.  Go outside.  Make an effort.  Learn about the lives of those you are around daily.  Be more of a "there you are" person, and less of a "here I am" one.  Visit someone, even if they seem shocked or uncomfortable at first - or, even better, invite someone into your home for a meal.  Take someone out to lunch.  Make a phone call instead of sending an email.  Hand write a note or letter to mail instead of messaging someone on Facebook.

In Acts 2:46, the early Christians "continued daily with one accord in the temple, and breaking bread from house to house . . ."  They saw the need for daily interaction on a personal level, and they grew as a result.  Peter tells us in 1 Peter 1:22 that we are to "love one another fervently with a pure heart."  We can't do that by waving from the inside of our cars, or seeing each other three times a week at a church building.

I'm logging off now, and don't be surprised to find me knocking on your door.  I'll bring some cookies.

"I am a part of all that I have met..." ~Alfred Lord Tennyson

It's December 1, and my November Thankfulness Project is complete.  To be honest, I could keep doing the entries for at least several more months - I didn't cover even half of my list, even with my "cheating" of grouping people together in one entry.  And interestingly enough, as I added an entry each day, it spurred memories of others, and my list continued to grow. This November project has been good for me.  It has brought to my remembrance many people who have at some point in my life made an impression - collectively, they have made me who I am.  I am so blessed through the people in my life, and I need to make sure they know that.

  However, I must be honest with you about my "list."  There are several names on that list that I decided not to write about, even if their name was randomly drawn.  Why?  Because the influence they had on me, and the lessons I learned from my experiences with those people were not positive, and I would never air that in a public forum.  Some of them were hard - very hard.  So, why am I thankful for them, and why are they even on the list?  Because we learn from every relationship we have in life - both the good and the bad.  In fact, I have probably learned from the bad, painful experiences I have had with people in life much more than I have from the good - or at least as much. Those "bad" experiences have made me more sensitive in a lot of ways to the needs of others, and for that I am thankful.

As I started this project, I quoted from "It's A Wonderful Life" in my October 31st entry.  One of the most memorable scenes in that movie is when Clarence tells George,“Strange, isn't it? Each man's life touches so many other lives. When he isn't around he leaves an awful hole, doesn't he?” Clarence was so right.  The quote I used in the title of this entry speaks to the same concept.  I AM a part of all that I have met, and that leads to a sobering thought - All I have ever met are a part of me.  Now that I am through looking outward at others, I need to take a long, hard look at myself.  Every day I come into contact with people in a multitude of ways - some live in my home, some I talk to on a regular basis, some I keep in contact with via email and Facebook, and others I simply encounter in random ways.  If they were to make a list like I have made, would they be willing to write publicly about me, or would I fall under that category of those who had an impact, but in a painful or difficult way?  That's something I need to consider.

I don't know for sure what direction I will go with this blog for now.  I enjoy writing, and will continue to add entries, but probably not on a daily basis.  I hope you will continue to stop by as you have opportunity.  I'll close for now with the following thoughts from the Apostle Paul, penned in Phil. 2:1-8:  "So if there is any encouragement in Christ, any comfort from love, any participation in the Spirit, any affection and sympathy,  complete my joy by being of the same mind, having the same love, being in full accord and of one mind.  Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility count others more significant than yourselves.  Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others.  Have this mind among yourselves, which is yours in Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied himself, by taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men. And being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death,even death on a cross."  When we live with a Christ-like mind, we will be that positive influence in the lives of others.  I plan to work harder at that, and I hope you will, too.

“Friends are the family we choose for ourselves.” ~Edna Buchanan

When I was four years old, the Reynolds moved to my hometown.  They quickly became like family to us.  Their daughter was 10 years old than me, and she took a special interest in me.  She would play with me, have me come over and spend the night with her, and make me feel like I was a teenager, too!  I loved going over to their house.

The year after they moved to town, they endured tragedy when their 10 year old son died suddenly.  It was the beginning of the summer, and since Mrs. Reynolds worked outside the home, their daughter came over every day to spend the days with us - she didn't want to be home alone.  What a fun summer for me!

Eventually, their daughter married.  I was in the wedding, and when she moved to a nearby town, I would spend school breaks at her house.  I also loved being at the Reynolds house, and Mr. and Mrs. Reynolds took a personal interest in my young life.  They attended every piano recital, band concert, and school event that came along.  And they continued that, whenever possible, with my children as well.  Going to their home always seemed just the same as going to my own home.  What a blessing they were in my young life!

The Reynolds were some of the most hospitable people I've ever known.  It was impossible to be in their home without eating or drinking something, because Mr. Reynolds was relentless in offering - sometimes it was easier just to accept, even if you really didn't want anything!  They made me feel like part of their family, but I wasn't the only one.  They were always there, and could always be counted on.  The night my daddy died in an accident, they were the first ones to arrive at my mother's house, and the last to leave.  They opened up their home to out-of-town family of ours on that occasion, as well as other times - people they had never met before.  And after my father's death, they were there for my mother - they would drag her all over East Texas and beyond, to any and every event they went to.  On the first Valentine's day after Daddy died, Mr. Reynolds took his wife - and my mother - out to eat.

Mr. Reynolds passed away several years ago.  I was able to go visit him shortly before he died, and say my goodbyes, and I'm thankful I had that opportunity.  Mrs. Reynolds continues to live in my hometown, and now my mother and her new husband are the ones who drag her all over the countryside.  The Reynolds taught me a lot as a child.  From them I first learned that family is not limited to blood relatives.  They showed me that by taking an active interest in the lives of others, strong, lifelong relationships can form.  They taught me hospitality, and service.  My childhood was brighter, and my life as a whole is better, because of the Reynolds, and I'm thankful that God blessed my life with them.

This ends my November posts of Thankfulness for the people in my life.  I will write a concluding, wrap-up blog entry tomorrow, December 1. 

"When strangers start acting like neighbors... communities are reinvigorated." ~Ralph Nader

It is a very rare thing to have neighbors in an apartment complex that you come to call friends.  We were blessed in the first months of our marriage to have such neighbors living down stairs in our Dallas apartment complex - Lance and Mary.

Lance and Mary were young like us, and had not been married very long, but they had endured great trial in their short life together.  Lance was injured in an accident, and lost the use of both legs - he was confined to a wheelchair.  The thing that impressed me about both Lance and Mary from the outset was their amazing attitudes.  No, they didn't like what had happened to them, but they had accepted it, and they were doing everything they could to live a normal, productive, happy life.  Lance had his car "rigged" so that he could drive, and their apartment was equipped to accommodate his chair.  The first time I met Lance, he was underneath his car working on it - he slid out to say hi.  He "ran" in marathons, using his arms for power, and he and Jeff would sometimes play tennis together.

Lance and Mary had a little dog, Shadrach, who became friends with our dog, Barney.  We would dog sit for each other, and we spent many summer evenings sitting on the bottom of the stairs outside of our apartments visiting.  They were always so encouraging to be with, and we loved spending time with them.  Occasionally, they would invite us over for dinner.  I told Mary one time that I wished we could reciprocate, but I knew that Lance could not climb the stairs to come to our apartment.  She told me that we could fix that - Jeff could carry Lance upstairs!  I was a little surprised at first, but then Mary pointed out that even though Lance's upper body was quite fit, he didn't weigh that much because of the atrophy of his lower extremities.  So, we did what she suggested, and enjoyed having them in our home several times after that.

Mary and I would walk together when we got home from work to get some exercise, and I loved those times of visiting together.  We talked about our future hopes of having houses, and children to fill them.  They  bought a house and moved before we did, but we kept in touch with each other.  They now live in San Antonio, and we enjoy their Christmas card every year, with pictures of their three children.

From Lance and Mary, I learned that even when life-changing tragedies occur, it doesn't have to defeat the spirit.  Mary showed me how those vows we make when we marry someone can take on new meaning as we deal with caring for someone through the "sickness" part.  Lance and Mary taught us that we can adjust to any situation, and still live a happy, productive life - even if it's not the life we once envisioned.  They also taught me to never take my health, or the proper functioning of my body, for granted.

Lance and Mary were some of those "for a season" friends, and they served me well.  I'm thankful that they were our neighbors, and for the wonderful example they set for me.

"Never go to a doctor whose office plants have died." ~Erma Bombeck

The very first human hands to touch my children belong to Dr. Weinstein.  He was my ob/gyn, and saw me through a lot!  I first went to Dr. Weinstein shortly after I got married, and he performed some minor surgery to correct some problems I was having.  I found him to be warm, thoughtful, caring, and extremely competent at his job.  He was an older man, with years of experience, and I found that to be comforting.

A few years later when Jeff and I decided it was a good time to begin our family, things didn't go quite as smoothly as we had hoped.  Dr. Weinstein was there, and ready to help.  He did the very best for me that medical science could do, and I was excited when I got pregnant.  However, several weeks into the pregnancy I suffered a miscarriage.  Jeff and I were both devastated, and Dr. Weinstein was very compassionate as he dealt with us through that loss.  When the time was right, Dr. Weinstein once again pulled all of the medical strings he could, and I conceived again - this time it was twins!  I had the pregnancy confirmed in his office one day while Jeff was at work.  Dr. Weinstein was so excited - he even insisted I call Jeff right then from his office phone.  (That was in the days before cell phones for you youngsters reading this.)  I was impressed that this man who had probably confirmed thousands of pregnancies could be so excited about one more!

Dr. Weinstein provided the best care he could for me throughout my pregnancy, and at 29 weeks, I began to experience pre-term labor.  Dr. Weinstein hospitalized me and was able to get it stopped,  He tried letting me go home, but two days later I had to go back to the hospital, and he told me that I would be staying for the duration of the pregnancy.  He and the other doctors in his practice would rotate making hospital rounds each morning, and it was always my favorite day when it was Dr. Weinstein's turn.  He never seemed to be in a hurry, and he would often pick up my newspaper, sit down in my room, and visit while he perused the Sports section.

After six LONG weeks in the hospital, my babies had grown enough to let me continue my labor.  Late into the night of September 20, 1990, the nurse came into my room, flicked on the light, and stood there with a wheelchair.  She told me that Dr. Weinstein was downstairs, and he wanted her to bring me down.  When I arrived in Labor & Delivery, he said, "Let's have some babies!"  Dr. Weinstein performed a c-section, and at 2:58 a.m. and again at 3:00 a.m. on September 21, he delivered our very healthy girls with skill and precision.  Two years later, he did the same when he delivered Caleb.

From talking to other women, I think most of us feel a special bond with the doctor who delivered our children.  For me, it seemed even more special, considering the help he gave us in the problems we had conceiving, his compassionate care through a difficult loss, and his wisdom in treating me in such a way as to give our girls the best chance possible at a healthy start.  I know it was his job, but he did it with great care.  Dr. Weinstein helped me to learn PATIENCE, which was required as I awaited the arrival of our girls during those long six weeks of hospitalization.  He would often tell me to trust him - the wait would be worth it!  And he was right.  I'm thankful for Dr. Weinstein, and for the knowledge and skill God blessed him with that not only helped us have the family we longed for, but made sure that me and our children were healthy in the process.

"The happiest people I have known have been those who gave themselves no concern about their own souls, but did their uttermost to mitigate the miseries of others.” ~Elizabeth Cady Stanton

One of the people I am blessed to know who most portrays the heart of a servant is my friend Sharon.  I first met her about 21 years ago when we began worshiping with the congregation where she was a member.  She and her husband immediately made us feel welcome.  Sharon was one of those people who is sincerely interested in the lives of others, and seeks to find ways to help.  She would always try to help me when I would go to Ladies' Bible class, as I attempted to wrestle my 7 month old twins.  Unfortunately, they were both extremely shy, and did not warm up to Sharon very fast.  But, she was persistent, and with time she won them over.

As our children grew, Sharon continued to work at being involved in their lives.  She would bring them new toys to keep their attention during a week-long gospel meeting, and she was ever ready with hugs - not just for the kids, but for everyone.  She was always cheerful, with a great sense of humor.  But the thing that has always impressed me most about Sharon is her selfless heart of service.  She is one of those people who does countless acts for others as part of her everyday activities  - never complaining, and never expecting anything in return.  In her mid-60's, she is also currently teaching a Bible class of 27 2nd graders, after just having had hip replacement surgery - now THAT is service!

Through the years, even though we no longer live in the same city, we have continued to enjoy our friendship with Sharon.  She's visited our home on several occasions, and last year she and her husband drove the 2 hours from their home just to be in the Sunday evening assembly here to hear Caleb preach.  They continue to love our children, and will extend that in a tangible way once again beginning in January when Becca will live with them while she does her internship in Dallas.  

I'm so thankful for Sharon.  Her life has not been easy, and she has taught me so much about serving others.  I've learned from Sharon that service is rewarding, even if it's not always appreciated or even known about by the recipient.  From her, I've been reminded how great it is to have a sense of humor, and how laughter is such a wonderful part of any friendship.  She's taught me by her example that everything we have is from God, and is to be shared.  Sharon gives the best hugs of anyone I know - those big, take-your-breath-away bear hugs, and she's the only person besides my immediate family who often accompanies her hug with a kiss on the cheek.  I love that about Sharon.  How blessed I am to call her friend!  

"Young people are in a condition like permanent intoxication, because youth is sweet and they are growing " ~Aristotle

The teenage years can be a wonderful time of life, if you have good people surrounding you.  I was blessed in my youth to have a wonderful network of Christian friends in the congregation where I grew up.  Hal, Kathy, Debbie, James, Betty, Rachel, and Mark provided that great friendship, and we had a wonderful time together in those years.

We would all sit up front during worship - the guys sat on the 2nd row, and the girls on the 3rd.  Occasionally, one of the guys would do something that would give us girls the giggles, but for the most part, everyone was focused on the reason we were there - to worship God.  Every Sunday night after services, we would go out to eat, and then drive around.  The scenario was usually the same - the girls would walk over to the guys, and ask them where they were going, and Mark would always say, "To heaven - wanna come?"  We usually ended up at Pizza Hut, where Mark would lead us in prayer before we ate.  We always got Mark to word the prayer, because he had the timing down to a science - he would begin his prayer with the ending of a song on the jukebox, and end it right before the next one started up.  We would sometimes do crazy things after we ate - like the time we decided to pack 8 people in Mark's little Volkswagen.  Some of us worked together at Swensen's Ice Cream Parlor for a while, and that was great fun as well.  Even though we did some crazy stuff, we knew by being with each other we would never get into trouble.  We knew that everyone there was committed first and foremost to living for Christ.  What a wonderful thing to have!

We were also all in the same Bible class, and the ones of us who went to the same school would often meet in the library after lunch to "cram" for our memory verse memorization.  We watched and participated in each other's spiritual growth, and would encourage our brothers who began participating in the public worship.  

Eventually, we all grew up and left.  All are still faithful to the Lord, one is a gospel preacher now, and one became my sister-in-law.  I don't see most of them very often, but we are forever bound by the growing up and learning we did together during those volatile teenage years.  And when I do see them, it always feels familiar and easy, and conjures up such happy memories.

From my church peers, I learned more than I can ever list here.  I learned the great value and application of Ecclesiastes 4:9-12, and how there really is strength in numbers.  They helped me to learn at an early age the concepts of loyalty and friendship, and that making friends of God's people FIRST has huge implications as it relates to the growth of my own faith.  Hal, Kathy, Todd, James, Betty, Debbie, Rachel and Mark all hold a special place in my heart, and I'm thankful for the memories we share.

"She is the crescendo, the final, astonishing work of God. Woman. In one last flourish creation comes to a finish with Eve. She is the Master's finishing touch." ~John Eldredge

If there was ever a woman who I believe was exactly what God intended for her to be, it would be Sarah Taylor.  From a very early age, I was impressed with her deep knowledge of God's word.  She loved God, she loved to share that love with others, and she was devoted to Bible study.  It showed.

I loved being in Ladies' Bible classes taught by Sis. Taylor, and the things she taught me have stayed with me.  I also loved to just visit with her.  Her husband was one of our elders, and in my mind, there was no other family as wonderful as the Taylors.  They had two daughters and a son, who were my friends, and I remember how close they were as a family.  I remember observing how they would "huddle up" when their children left for college, and have family prayer together.  And I remember being at their house one day when their oldest daughter arrived home from out-of-state for the holidays.  Her brother and I met her in the driveway, and she couldn't get past us fast enough - she said, "I wanna see my mama!"  I loved that.

Her son ended up going to Texas A&M, where he had a roommate named Jeff.  Thanks to some matchmaking skills that Hal implemented, Jeff became my husband.  Whenever Jeff would visit me, he usually stayed overnight at the Taylor's home.  The weekend he came to propose to me, he stayed there, and the next week when I went over to return the key, Sis. Taylor was home alone.  She told me to come in and sit down, that she wanted to talk to me.  And talk she did!  She cared deeply that Jeff and I get our marriage started off in the best possible way.  She gave me a stack of books to read, and told me to pass them on to Jeff when I was finished reading them.  Thanks to her love and thoughtfulness, our transition into marriage came very easily.

After we were married, we used to tease Hal that since he introduced us, we WOULD name our first child after him, but he would have to change his name. (His full name is Harold Edwin.)  Instead, we chose to name our firstborn daughter Sarah, after one of the greatest women I've ever known.  By giving our Sarah that name, my hope was that she would grow up to be just like the inspiration for her name.

The Taylors moved to Florida before our girls were born.  They made a trip to Texas when the girls were little, and came by our house to meet them.  Then, several years later we made a trip to Florida, and we spent an afternoon with the Taylors so that Sarah could meet and spend some time with Sarah.  It warmed my heart to be able to do that.

Sis. Taylor is now in her 90's, and I've heard that her mind is not quite as sharp as it once was.  But I continue to think of her often, and thank God for her influence in my life, which cannot be measured.  She is someone I've always wanted to be like, because she always gave God and His cause her very best.  Without her family, I probably never would've met Jeff, and I truly feel like God's providence played a part in all of that.  Sis. Taylor will probably never fully know how much good she's done in this world - especially in my world.

"How do people make it through life without a sister?" ~Sara Corpening

I was born into a family with only one older brother.  He was my only sibling, and I used to wish I had a sister.  I even used to beg my parents to have one for me, but they didn't see the need for that quite as seriously as I did, so they didn't accommodate me in that.  I will never have a sister by birth, but God did bless me with a sister by heart.

Shannon is five years younger than me, and she came to live with us back in 1995.  She had just moved to the Dallas area, and needed a place to stay for "a few nights" while she looked for an apartment.  We didn't know her that well, but she worshiped where we did, and so we asked her to stay with us.  We felt comfortable with her in our home from the start, and she must have liked it ok, too - the "few nights" turned into almost six months.  (It would've been longer, but we moved out of state, causing lots of jokes about the lengths we had to go to in order to get her to leave!)

Shannon very quickly endeared herself to our children - the girls were four years old, and Caleb was two when she came to live with us.  They LOVED "Miss Shannon," and it was a BIG event everyday when she would arrive home from work.  She would babysit, and play, and she soon became their favorite person.  Caleb called her "My Shan," and said he was going to marry her.  Not only did the kids form a lasting, loving relationship with her, but so did I.  As we talked and got to know each other, it was one of those instantly easy friendships.  I found so much we had in common.  From little things like both being left-handed, both having one brother, and both LOVING mint chocolate chip ice cream, to the bigger things like the views we shared about spiritual things, the similarities in our personalities, and the core beliefs we had about life.  It was a sad day when Miss Shannon moved out - sad for the kids, but also sad for me.

I could write a book about all of the experiences we've had with Shannon since that time in 1995 - she's literally been there through it all, even traveling to Arkansas to help care for my family when we lived there and I had surgery.  Suffice it to say, she continues to be adored by the Stewart family.  The kids just call her "Shannon" now, but they love her like no other.  She has made an effort to be very involved with their lives, even though we haven't lived in the same town in 16 years.  She has truly been an "aunt" to them in every sense of the word.  Every mother knows how much it means when someone sincerely and deeply loves your children, and makes the effort to really KNOW them individually - Shannon's relationship with my children is like that, and has always warmed my heart.  But more than that, besides Jeff, Shannon has become my closest friend - the sister I never had, my closest confidant, and my top female sounding board.  She knows me, encourages me, and usually responds to me intuitively.  Shannon has taught me more than I can ever list here about selflessly serving others, trust, and giving, among other things.  From her I've learned that "family" isn't always just the people with whom you share DNA, but the closest relationships in life can be with those we choose as our family.  When I read the biblical account of David and Jonathan, and how "the soul of Jonathan was knit to the soul of David, and he loved him as his own soul," I always think of Shannon.  I thank God that she needed a place to stay for a few nights back in 1995.  I used to wish I had a sister - I don't wish for that anymore. So how do people make it through life without a sister?  Thanks to Shannon, I'll never have to know.

"A mother is a person who seeing there are only four pieces of pie for five people, promptly announces she never did care for pie." ~Tenneva Jordan

Perhaps there is no greater influence on any person's life than the one wielded by their mother.  My mother was the oldest of 5 children.  Her mother was sick a lot, and as a result, the keeping of the house and care of the younger siblings often fell to my mother when she was very young.  When my mother was 20 years old, her mother died.  Mother's youngest sister was only 7 at the time.  She became not only big sister, but a mother figure to all of her younger siblings.  There was a lot of drama and difficulties with my mother's father - he apparently had left his wife at the time of her death, and was seeing another woman.  He married this other woman shortly thereafter.  Years later, he desired and sought to repair the relationship with his children, and my mother was ready and willing to forgive him.  He caused great pain in the lives of his children, but she loved him deeply, and I was always amazed at her great ability to forgive and forget.

Mother and Daddy married when my mother was only 18 years old.  After a few years of marriage, they wanted to start a family, but had difficulties doing that.  Finally, at the age of 25, my brother was born.  I followed 2 years later.  She was 100% dedicated to my brother and myself, and involved herself completely in our lives.  She was Brownie leader, PTA president, and room mother extraordinaire.

I caused my mother many, many days of worry.  When I was 6 months old, the doctor discovered I had been born with congenital dislocation of my left hip.  Basically, I was born without a joint.  This required that I be placed in a cast that went from my waist down to my toes, with an opening in the bottom so that my diaper could be changed.  I was in this cast for 9 months.  As a mother myself, I know this had to have been a daily struggle for my mother, but I've never heard her complain about it.  My health issues didn't end there - by the time I was 13 years old, I had endured a strange episode of low platelets, which they initially (but wrongly) feared was leukemia, 2 eye surgeries, 2 hand surgeries, and a bout in the hospital with a kinked intestine.  Not to mention all of the normal childhood diseases.  My poor mother!  From all of that, I remember that she was always there.  She spent many nights in the hospital with me, and made sure that I was well cared for.

Mother sacrificed as all mother's do.  I always had the best she could give, and I always knew I was loved.  She made sure we were ready and early to every worship service, and supported my dad in seeing that God always came first in our home.

My mother is the cleanest person I've ever known in my life.  There was a period of time in my life when cleanliness was just not that important to me.  Hence, we had some conflict over that!  She always won, though, and I'm glad now that she did.

I cannot even begin to list everything my mother has taught me.  From her, I learned how to live.  I learned that at my very core, the most important relationship I can ever have is with God.  I learned that forgiveness, while not always easy, is the most godly attitude we can have.  My mother taught me the basic things of how to keep a house, but more importantly, she taught me how to make a house a home.  From her I learned how to love and nurture my own children.

Mother is now getting older, and her age is beginning to take its toll.  A few months ago, I took her to lunch one day.  She couldn't finish her meal, and asked for a take-out box.  When it arrived, she tried in vain to close the lid - she couldn't manipulate the "latch" to get it to seal.  I took it from her, and did it for her - and as I did, I thought about how she used to do those kinds of things for me, and now the roles were beginning to reverse.  That's never an easy thing, but that's the natural progression of life.  I'm thankful for my mother, and I hope that my life always reflects the best of what I learned from her.

"A girl's first true love is her father." ~Marisol Santiago

I was always a Daddy's girl.  My earliest memories include waiting eagerly for Daddy to get home from work, and then following him wherever he went.  In the spring and summer, it was outside to weed the flower beds, or water the yard, and in the winter it was to the green house to check on the plants.  My favorite place to be in the evenings was in his lap.  I loved my daddy.

Daddy was a man of many talents and hobbies.  He loved to go fishing, and I often accompanied him to the lake.  I didn't really like fishing, but I would take a book, and read while he fished.  It was really more about just being with him.  He also loved astronomy, and educated himself through books about the great big sky.  He even built a telescope - a big one.  He ground the mirrors, and lenses, and made everything himself - no kit assembly with him!  I still have that telescope he made, and I think of him every time I walk outside on a clear night and look up at the sky.  He could tell you the name of every star, and every constellation.  Similarly, he loved gardening, and his yard always looked like something out of Better Homes & Gardens magazine.

Being musical was not really his forte', but he did have a harmonica.  He saved his money and bought it through a mail-order catalog when he was a boy, and he taught himself how to play it.  He could play any song you asked him to, and he taught me how to play it as well.  I have that now, too, and it is one of my most treasured possessions.  Daddy loved any kind of building or woodwork, and when I was pregnant with the girls he fashioned for us a cradle.  It is beautiful, and I know our children will enjoy using it again someday for their children.  And Daddy loved books.  He was an avid reader, and as a result had a great amount of knowledge about a lot of things.  His favorite book was the Bible, and he knew it intimately.

Daddy loved his family, and adored his grandchildren.  After he retired, he would often call me from his cell phone during the day when the kids were at school.  (He was never one to talk much on the phone - he said he was trying to use up his minutes so that he wouldn't waste them.)  I loved those phone calls.  They always started out the same - I would answer the phone, and his first response was always, "What's going on over there?"  Quickly followed by, "How are the little shavers?"  He also loved his mother, and when she reached an age where moving to a nursing home was necessary, he would visit her every morning, and brush her false teeth for her.

But there was something even more remarkable than all of that about my daddy.  He loved God.  He had a sincere heart, and his utmost desire in life that motivated everything he did was pleasing His Creator.  He served as an elder in two different congregations, and he served humbly.  He made sure that our first priority as his family was always our service to God.

I'll never forget the night of October 6, 2003, and can still physically feel how I felt like I had been punched in the stomach when my brother called me with the news that Daddy had been in an accident, and he had not survived.  He was 68.  I miss him still.  I wish he could've been here to watch his grandchildren grow up - he would be so proud of the wonderful Christian young people they have become.  And there are still times that I have questions about life when I wish I could just call and ask my daddy.  After 9 years, I have learned that I will always miss him.  But the grief and pain of that October night has softened with time, and I remember him now much more with smiles than with tears, as I think on his life and legacy instead of the way he died.

I'm thankful for my daddy, and that is quite an understatement.  I truly had the best.  He taught me more about life than anyone else ever has or ever will.  He showed me the value in this life of living for God, and the blessings that come as a result.  By being a loving father, he gave me my first and most important impression of the true nature of my Heavenly Father. And he also taught me the blessing you can give to your family by such service to God - not only in life, but also in death, as you leave them with calm peace in the knowledge of your eternal destiny.  I know where my daddy is now, and I have the blessed assurance of seeing him again someday - the greatest blessing I could ever hope to have.

"There has never been, nor will there ever be, anything quite so special as the love between a mother and a son." ~Author Unknown

Caleb is our baby - born two years and five months after his twin sisters.  My first thought the first time I saw his pudgy little face topped with a huge shock of black hair was that he looked JUST like Rebecca!  I loved my girls, but was so very excited to have a son!  Caleb loved to cuddle as a baby, and I thoroughly enjoyed every moment of his baby-hood.  With infant twins, I was so busy taking care of them, I had little time or energy left to just soak it in and enjoy them - with Caleb I was given that blessing.  And after having two at once, he was a breeze!

Caleb was at a slight disadvantage as the only boy born into a family with two older sisters.  Occasionally the girls would dress him up, and when he was really little he had a hard time understanding why he couldn't have his nails painted, too.  But in spite of all of that, he was ALL BOY, and very HIGH energy!  He loved cars, and would always hum his own action music when playing with them - this caused some discipline problems when he insisted on humming his original soundtracks during worship.  He also loved playing with his toy guns, and he continues to have an obsession with knives.  And I honestly believe that having two older sisters has helped him develop a sensitivity to the needs of others - especially females.  The things he has learned in that regard will serve him well someday when he is a husband, and his future wife will be blessed as a result.

From his earliest days, Caleb was a people person.  He NEVER met a stranger, and lived every moment to its fullest, squeezing every ounce of enjoyment from every experience. He was convinced that everyone around him was there to talk to him, which wasn't always a good thing.  Once while in the library, we got dirty looks from the librarian as Caleb, from his stroller, yelled "Hi!!" very loudly to every other library patron we encountered.  He also would yell a greeting to the men serving the Lord's supper each Sunday if I wasn't quick enough with my hand over his mouth.  And when his greetings weren't returned, he thought it was because he wasn't heard, so he would yell it again - louder.  All of this was very new for us, as his sisters had always been painfully shy.  He was good for helping them come out of their shells a little more!

Caleb endeared himself to old and young alike.  He would go with me to Ladies' Bible class before he was old enough to start school, and he would "work the crowd" before class.  During class he would draw pictures for ALL of the ladies, and distribute them after class.  As he has grown, he still endears himself to older people, and little kids all love him as well.  When he was in first grade, his teacher told me he would grow up to be either a politician or a preacher!

His charismatic personality continued as Caleb grew, and I was not at all surprised to learn that on a trip with the high school band to Disney World, it was Caleb who led the entire audience of Fantasmic in the "roller coaster" before the show.

Caleb has grown into a fine, caring, tender-hearted, godly young man who is an Eagle Scout, and currently a sophomore at Texas A&M University, where he is majoring in Communications.  He continues to enjoy life to its fullest, and his enthusiasm is refreshing and contagious.  Caleb loves people, and people love him back.  He has a gift for speaking publicly, and is at ease in front of any audience.  He enjoys guitar, photography,and wood burning, and he loves spending time with his friends and his family.  He's a wonderful brother - just ask his sisters after he spontaneously takes them a Wendy's Frosty when they've had a bad day.  I'm proud of Caleb for the wonderful young man he has become, and I am most proud of the way he follows hard after God.  He has a heart tender to God's word, and when confronted with things that need to be corrected in his life, he always responds with a humble willingness to improve - he has taught me much in that regard, and we would all do well to learn that lesson from him.  Through the years, we've often wondered where this charismatic, outgoing, unique young man came from, and if he didn't look so much like his dad, we might think we got the wrong baby at the hospital.  But how very blessed we are to have Caleb!  I am most blessed to be his mom.  There is something quite special about the bond between a mother and a son - I love that boy uniquely, and deeply, and I cannot imagine how very boring my life would be without him!

"A daughter is a day brightener and a heart warmer." ~Author Unknown

Rebecca is our 2nd born, two minutes younger than her twin sister, and labeled "Baby B" by doctors before she was born.  When I would have ultrasounds before the girls were born, we often would see Becca kicking or hitting her sister, with Sarah's arms up in a defensive position.  Becca also moved a lot more than Sarah in the womb.  I'll never forget the first time I saw her - she was SCREAMING at the top of her little 5 lb. 2 oz. lungs, with her mouth wide open, and even though she was born 4 weeks early, she had a head FULL of black hair.  She was adorable.

Becca never liked to be rocked - she just wanted to be left alone and put in her bed, or she loved being put in the swing.  She always liked "action," and when she got big enough for the Johnny Jump-Up, her favorite thing was to hang from the nearest door frame, and jump, jump, jump!  She loved for her daddy to throw her around, and that turned out badly one evening when some rough-housing on the bed landed her on the floor, and she hit a metal a/c return on the way down, cutting her forehead open.  That was our first trip to the ER. Several months later, she fell out of the back of the wagon, bruising her head and breaking her front tooth, which soon fell out. She was only two, so she was snaggle-toothed for quite a few years longer than most children!

Becca didn't like change, and anything new upset her.  So, for the first few years of her formal education, our first day of school separation was very painful.  And I'm quite sure it was much more painful for ME than it was for her!  She usually did well if she could be with Sarah, and their first year of camp, I don't think we would've kept Rebecca out of our car heading home if Sarah hadn't been there.

In her early years, Becca seemed unhappy a lot of the time - we lovingly referred to her as "Little Miss Grumpet".  She was easily frustrated, and cried a lot over very minor things.  I would worry about this, feel concern over what I was doing wrong, and wonder what it would mean for her later in life - if she was like this at 2, what kind of emotional battles would we have when she was 15?  I tried to do everything I could to make her feel more content - I even made her a "happy chart" that she could put a sticker on if she went all day being happy!  I was desperate!  I mentioned this to her doctor one time, and the doctor told me I shouldn't worry - that she was just tender-hearted, and she would learn to control that and channel it in a positive way.  Fortunately, the doctor was right.

All of the worries I had about Becca in her early years were thankfully not played out in our lives - those visions I had of teenaged battles never materialized.  Quite the opposite - she matured and developed her God-given traits to make her into the loving, caring, thoughtful young lady she is today, with a tender heart toward God and others. I could give many examples, but the best one I can think of that embodies who Becca is occurred when she was in fifth grade.  I went to the school for something one day, and her teacher told me how proud she was of Becca - there was a new little girl in the class across the hall who had severe physical impairments, and was confined to a wheelchair.  The teacher told me that at recess, while all of the other kids ran immediately to play on the equipment, Becca always stayed behind to play with Jessica.  Because of this, Becca and Jessica formed a close friendship that continues to this day.  Several months after meeting Jessica, Becca asked if she could have her over to spend the night - I was initially a little uneasy about that, but Becca wasn't at all.  When Jessica's mother brought her over that first time, she told me with tears in her eyes how much she appreciated Becca's friendship for Jessica - she said it was the first time anyone had ever invited her to come over and spend the night.  That is my Becca - - she's never looked at the outside, but has a unique gift for seeing the heart, and for intuitively knowing and responding to the needs of others.  What a gift, and what a life lesson for this mom!

Becca has now grown into a beautiful, godly, sensitive, caring, artistic, and fun-loving young lady who will graduate from Texas A&M in May with a degree in Community Health.  She wants to use that degree to be an advocate for children in a medical setting, and she will do well at that.  She, too, has had heartbreak in her life, but she has worked through that and - in true Becca nature - used that experience to help others.  She loves deeply, and is always touched by the hurts of others in such a way as to respond - that is a wonderful thing.  Her love for God is evident in all she does, which warms my heart.  How blessed I am to be HER mother, and I am humbled by that role.  When the girls were little, lots of people used to say, "double trouble," but I have never felt that way - quite the opposite - double blessing! And just as I love Sarah in a deep and unique way, Becca also has her own very special place overflowing with love in my heart.  I can't imagine life without my sweet Becca, and I thank God for the privilege that is mine to call her my daughter.

"A mother's treasure is her daughter." ~Catherine Pulsifer

Sarah is our firstborn, by two minutes - firstborn twin, and labeled "Baby A" by the doctors while in the womb.  I'll never forget the first time I saw her little scrunched up face as the doctor held her up so I could see.  She was a perfect, 5 lb. 11 oz. blonde haired beauty, with a bent over ear due to her cramped quarters the last few months, but that straightened out with time.

Sarah was my cuddler.  She loved to be held and rocked.  I remember one time when she was probably 6 or 7 months old, I took her to the grocery store with me one evening by herself.  I placed her in the seat in the front of the cart, and at least twice on every aisle with a big smile on her face she would reach up to give me a hug.  Such a sweetie!  She loved her baby dolls and stuffed animals, and would carry as many as her little arms could hold.

In her early life, Sarah could best be described as careful.  She never hurt herself with the normal baby chin bumps and falls because she was overly cautious.  When she first started walking, she held her left arm out at a strange angle in an effort to help with her balance.  As she grew, she continued to be careful - one year on vacation we went to Colorado and rode the alpine slide - Sarah held her brake all the way down the mountain!  With her siblings, Sarah always took the role of little mother when conflicts occurred between her brother and sister, and she often tried to see to their other needs as well.

Sarah has always had an "old soul" - I used to tell people she was a 40 year old mind trapped in a child's body. I was always amazed at the questions she asked me, and the deep conversations we would have when she was very young.  We had to be careful that the news wasn't on when Sarah was nearby - one evening she overheard the newscaster talking about Dr. Kevorkian, and she took what she heard to heart.  That night at bedtime, it came back to haunt her, and Jeff and I found ourselves reluctantly trying to explain assisted suicide to a very young child.  When she was 5 years old, a man we knew from church passed away after a lengthy illness.  We had been praying for him, and the kids would always remember him when they prayed at bedtime.  They knew and loved him, so the day he passed away, I wasn't quite sure how to tell them.  That night at bedtime when we were talking about who we needed to pray for, they mentioned this man.  I told them we didn't need to pray for him anymore, but we needed to pray for his wife, and then I told them why, fully prepared for them to fall to pieces.  Sarah thought about that for a minute, smiled from ear to ear, and said, "Oh!  He went to be with God!"  Such insight for a child, and that was just one occasion that I learned something from Sarah.

Sarah always loved books, and she wanted to learn to read before she started to school, so I helped her do that.  Her favorite book was her Children's Bible, and I can still hear her "reading" it out loud to her dolls.  As she grew, that love for reading grew, and she is probably the youngest person who has ever read the complete Bible from start to finish.  She's also always loved writing, and the blog she writes often moves me to tears.

Sarah has now grown into a beautiful, tender-hearted, talented, loving young woman of God.  She has a deep love of language, especially the Spanish language.  She will graduate from Texas A&M in May with a degree in Bilingual Elementary Education.  She loves children, and will do well as a teacher.  I've seen so much growth in her, especially over the past few years.  She's had to deal with some life issues involving her heart as well as her health, and I'm proud of the way she's bounced back from life's setbacks.  She loves people in general, and is such a blessing to all who know her, and one of her best attributes is her giving nature.  Even as as child, she was always willing to give up what she wanted for the benefit of others - a true, Christ-like heart.  I am so very proud of who she is, and I am honored and blessed to be her mother.  But beyond the academic success, and the care she has for other people, I am most proud of the heart she has for God.  She's not just my daughter, but she's my sister in Christ, and that makes my heart so happy.  I love my sweet Sarah in a special, unique way that defies description, and I am thankful beyond words for the blessing she continues to be in my life.

"Our wedding was many years ago. The celebration continues to this day." ~Gene Perret

(For the week of Thanksgiving, I've decided to stray from my "random" posts and devote this week to my family.  Next week I will go back to my randomness.  Out of all the relationships in my life, I am most thankful for my family.  This week's posts will be more difficult, because I could literally write a book about each one.  It is also difficult to find words that adequately express the depth of my feelings for these people, because there really are none that will do my feelings justice.  So keep that in mind as I try . . . )

Jeff and I have one of the best first date stories ever.  It was a blind date in April of 1986, but I didn't know it was even a date!  Jeff was roommates at Texas A&M with one of my good friends, Hal, who decided to fix up Jeff and their other roommate Larry, with myself and my friend Betty.  Hal knew me well enough to know that if he said it was a "date," especially a BLIND date, that I would say N-O!!  So, he called and told me he was "bringing home some people" for the weekend, and thought we could get a "group" together and go out to eat.  Not until we got to the restaurant and Jeff offered to pay for my dinner did I realize what was going on.  We had a pretty good time that night, but neither one of us was very impressed.  He thought I was "mod," and told Hal he thought he would give the girls in College Station a chance first.  I thought he was much too quiet, and frankly, I didn't mind at all that he was on the prowl at A&M!  It was definitely NOT love at first sight!

That summer my parents moved to Chicago, and I went with them.  Jeff did not cross my mind at all that summer.  When I returned to East Texas to go to school in the fall, I got an apartment with a friend, and soon settled back into a busy routine of school, work, church, and friends.  One night in September while studying, I received a phone call.  The guy on the other end identified himself as "Jeff," and I had no idea who he was.  The only Jeff I could think of was married to a friend of mine, and I knew this was not that Jeff on the other end of the phone.  He asked me if I received his letter, which I hadn't, and then he mentioned that Hal had given him my address.  (Oh!!  THAT Jeff!)  We had a nice chat, and the next week I received his letter. That began a couple of months of correspondence between us.  In November he came to Longview to visit, and that's when our relationship really took off.  We continued to write, talk when we could afford it, and his visits became more frequent.  On May 9, 1987, he asked me to marry him, which I happily did on January 2, 1988. 

From the time I got old enough to know anything about getting married, I prayed for God to provide someone for me who would help me go to heaven.  Jeff was the answer to that prayer.  He is a good, loving, tender-hearted man, who is passionate about his service to God.  I have had the privilege of watching him grow from an inexperienced twenty-something year old young man who would nervously give a lesson, lead singing, or teach a class, to a mature man who does all of those things now well and with ease.  He has been the one to nurse me through illness, to point out things in my life I need to improve, and to always bring out the best in me.  Through the almost 25 years of our marriage, he has been my best friend, and the rock I have leaned on time and time again.  We've had so much laughter and joy as we've lived each day, and as God blessed us with the three most wonderful children ever to be born.  The happy, joyous memories are too numerous to mention, and I have often asked myself, "Is this real life?" because my life is just that good - Jeff makes it that way.  And in those 25 years we've also shared great sorrow - the loss of our first child through miscarriage, and the loss of both of our fathers, to name a few.  I'm so thankful we have had each other to get through life's valleys - especially am I thankful that I have him.  

Whenever I stop to consider my life, I am overwhelmed that I have been the one person in this world who is so very blessed to share Jeff's life as his wife.  Even after 25 years, I sometimes feel like I'm living a dream.  No one is perfect, but Jeff is the perfect one for me.  Through his example and loving guidance, he has taught me to be more patient, and to think things through before reacting.  His first consideration is always what is best for ME, and he works hard each day to provide both monetarily and emotionally for my needs.  He makes me feel like the most important person in the world, and has convinced me that I AM tops in his world.  I am overwhelmed by his love and care for me.  And I haven't even mentioned what an amazing father he has always been to our three who call him dad.  They have the very best in him as well.  He's been an outstanding spiritual leader of our family, and perfectly embodies all that God instructs husbands and fathers to be.  I am so blessed.

I long ago ceased praying for God to provide a man with whom to share my life when Jeff entered my world.  Instead, I now I pray that our girls will be blessed to find men who are just like their dad, and that our son will be that kind of man himself.  I'm such a better person and closer to my God than I ever could've been without Jeff, and I am so blessed to be married to my best friend.  It's been the best 25 years of my life, and I pray that God blesses us with at least that many more.  Jeff completes me, and I feel like a major part of me is missing when we're apart.  I thank God daily for him. I'm also very glad that those girls in College Station who got another chance way back in 1986 didn't pass his test, and that I got another shot!

"Siblings are the people we practice on, the people who teach us about fairness and cooperation and kindness and caring - quite often the hard way." ~Pamela Dugdale

As I've noted in past entries, I have one older brother.  My earliest memories of Todd include fun times of playing in the backyard in the sandbox or on the swing set.  We also played together inside, and one of our favorite pretend things to do was to play Gunsmoke.  He was always Marshall Dillon, and since I was the little sister, I had to be Festus.  His room was Marshall Dillon's office (his closet was the jail), and my room had to be the saloon.  I would play Hot Wheels, and guns with him, but I could never get him to play dolls or Barbies with me . . . hmmm, I wonder why.

During most of our growing up years, Todd and I loved each other, but unfortunately we didn't really like each other very much.  We fought incessantly.  And I shamefully admit that I was usually the instigator.  He was always in my way, and I was always bothering him.  Oh, we had moments of peace, but for the most part, we either fought or avoided each other.  That is very sad to me now, and I wish it had been different.

When we got older, we did enjoy doing things together with a common group of friends we had from church.  Those were good times, and we enjoyed some camaraderie then.  Fortunately we both matured, and outgrew our selfish, childish ways, which had led to such battles.  We each have busy lives now, and we don't have the opportunity to spend a lot of time together, but one thing I know.  I know my brother loves me, and I love him, too.  Someone once pointed out to me that the sibling relationship is the longest lasting of life - it outlasts the parent/child relationship, and it is usually longer than even the longest of marriages.  Because of our common roots, and growing up in the same house with the same parents, we have a special bond.  There are things my brother knows about me that no one else does, and vice versa.  And ONLY Todd can truly understand when I have complaints about other family members.

Todd has taught me a lot throughout my life.  From him I learned that fighting isn't always the best way to resolve a problem, and that selfishness never gets you anywhere.  I've learned that when you do have issues or problems with someone, it is best to work those out, and not let them fester until they blow up in the heat of an emotional moment.  Todd has helped me learn that we are tied to our families, and there is a deep, abiding love there that transcends anything else.  I know that if I needed anything at all, at any time of the day or night, Todd would be there.  I'm thankful for that.  Todd is a good man, and I'm thankful that he is my big brother.

“Strength lies in differences, not in similarities” ~Stephen R. Covey

When I was a teenager, I had a part-time job at County Seat - a clothing store in the mall.  I worked there for five years, and during that time I was blessed to form many friendships through my job.  It was a great place to work, to grow, and to learn a little more about life.

Growing up in East Texas, I was somewhat isolated from the "big world."  Everyone I knew was from East Texas, and talked just like me.  Then, I got the job at County Seat, where I quickly met a very diverse group of people.  Marcie was the manager, and she was from Washington state.  Trish was the assistant manager, and she was from Minnesota.  Bev was from Wisconsin, and Annette was from Florida.  Talk about culture shock!  The first night I worked with Trish, neither one of us understood a thing the other one said.  (I told her I was going to the back to fill up the ice trays, and she wondered why in the world I would be filling up ash trays.)

Even though these young ladies were from different parts of the US, and had extremely varied backgrounds and personalities, we all grew to love each other, and work was a great place to be!  Jayne, Shelley, and Gwen - fellow East Texan natives - worked there, too.  We also spent time together outside of work at each others houses, and all of them became much more than co-workers.   I have great memories of my days working and playing with them all at County Seat, and most of us have kept in touch in the years since.  Jayne and Shelley were bridesmaids at my wedding, Gwen served at my wedding reception, and Marcie and I have continued to correspond and occasionally visit through the years.  Trish moved back to Minnesota, and I loved being able to see her when I traveled up there several years ago.  I keep up with Bev and Annette through Facebook as well.

From this diverse group of friends, I learned so much.  They gave me a place to "fit" and "belong," when I didn't always feel like I fit or belonged among my peers in high school.  They taught me how to work hard, and how to feel a sense of accomplishment in doing good work.  From my County Seat gang, I learned that people from different parts of the country talk really strange, but once you get used to it, they're really not that different.  I learned that work and fun CAN go hand in hand - it's just a matter of attitude.  My memories of those days in my youth make me smile, and I am better for the time I spent with each one of my County Seat friends.  I hope they each know how special they are to me, and how much of an influence for good they had in my young life.

“Wishing to be friends is quick work, but friendship is a slow ripening fruit.” ― Aristotle

When I first met Janice, I didn't particularly like her.  I really don't know why, but she just didn't seem to be someone I could ever have a friendship with, so I didn't try.  She was dating a boy I went to church with, and after dating him for a while, she was baptized.  Our lives soon took a similar path, as she became engaged about the same time I did, and her wedding was two weeks before mine.  I got to know her a little better during that time, but still, I did not feel particularly drawn to her.

Several months after Jeff and I married and we were living in Dallas, Janice and her husband moved there as well.  They began worshiping with the same congregation, and it was then that our friendship began to form.  Our husbands were instant friends and tennis buddies, so Janice and I would visit while the guys competed.  As I got to know her, what I found was refreshing.  She had a heart that was tender to God's Word, and she applied herself diligently to the study of it.  She did not have the blessing I did of growing up in a Christian home, but she didn't let that stop her from throwing herself wholly into His service.  I was amazed at the rapidity of her growth in Christ.  I soon found it easy to share my heart with her, and we formed a very close friendship.

Over the next few years, our friendship grew.  I have so many wonderful memories of those early married days, and spending time with Janice and Lawrence.  They became family.  We had a ton of good, happy times full of laughter.  And we also both suffered together through some really tough times.  She was there for me when I suffered a miscarriage, and I was there for her when she went through a very difficult family tragedy.  All of those things strengthened our friendship.

Years passed, and times changed.  She moved south, and I moved north, but we continued to share that special bond.  We talked on the phone at least weekly, and we got together every chance we could.  Times changed even more as children were born, I moved back south, and she moved out of state.  We both became busy with our individual lives, and the obligations we have to our families.  We don't talk weekly anymore, and we don't get to see each other much at all.  But when I do have the opportunity to talk to her, we easily pick up where we left off.

I have learned a lot from Janice.  I learned that first impressions are not always right, and that it takes spending time with people to really get to know them.  Janice taught me openness in expressing love.  From her I learned that it really doesn't matter where you are on the scale of Christian maturity, we can always grow at whatever rate our desire leads us to.  She showed me that people with good, honest hearts still exist, and that those are hearts that are ripe for receiving the gospel.  She continues to show me how a life of service to God's people is richly rewarding.  I love Janice, and I'm thankful for her presence in my life.  And I'm really thankful I overcame my first impressions - how less my life would be if I had never called Janice "friend."

"When you finally go back to your old hometown, you find it wasn’t the old home you missed but your childhood." ~ Sam Ewing

I grew up on Clinton Street, and we moved there shortly before my 1st birthday.  Kim's family moved in next door a few years after, and she became my very first friend.

I have lots of memories of going over to her house, ringing the doorbell, and asking, "Can Kim come over to my house and play?"  When she came over, we would take our Barbies "camping" in my back yard, where my daddy had built an elaborate rock garden (our mountains) and fish pond (our lake).  Sometimes if it had rained, we would move our Barbie family to the drainage ditch between our houses (the river).

While it was fun to have Kim come to my house, playing at her house was definitely more fun.  Her father was an evangelist who traveled, and we had all kinds of fun playing in his office when he was gone.  When he was home, we got to play in his travel trailer, which became our pretend house.  Kim was the oldest of four children, and her younger siblings were always entertaining as well.  One time I remember Kim and I feeding her baby brother dead flies we found in the window sill.  Surprisingly, he survived to adulthood, and I think he's even completely normal.

I don't remember exactly how old I was, but at some point in the middle of my childhood Kim's family moved to the Dallas area.  Kim and I stayed in touch by writing letters to each other, which we always ended with "Sorry So Short and Sloppy, Longer Letter Later."  Kim's grandmother lived a short bike ride away from my house, so whenever Kim visited her Grandma, I got to see her and play with her, keeping our friendship fresh.  Sometimes she would come over to our house to spend the night, and other times I would spend the night with her at her grandmother's house.  And when I got in high school and our band would travel to the Dallas area to perform, I would always find a pay phone and give Kim a call.  (Yes, that was before the days of cell phones!)

When I got married, Kim was a natural pick for one of my bridesmaids - after all, she was my very first, and longest friend!  We continued to stay in touch, but then life got really hectic - Kim (who is a few years younger than me) went to college in Oklahoma, and I started having babies.  Gradually, we lost touch.  I heard she got married, and that she was having children of her own.  Years passed, and then one day I found out her grandmother had passed away.  I was able to locate Kim, and it was good to reconnect through mail.

A few years ago, Kim and I found each other again on Facebook.  I learned that she would be in Longview, having a garage sale with her sisters and mother at her grandmother's old house, as they were getting ready to sell it.  I drove over to see Kim.  It had been years, but when I saw her, all of my childhood came rushing back.

I'm thankful for Kim, and that I had a friend like her while I was growing up.  We grew together, and had an idyllic childhood of pretending, roaming the neighborhood, playing in the woods, putting on "shows," and spending many summer days from dawn til dusk together.  I never recall having any conflicts between us, which is remarkable.  Kim helped me learn how to have a friend, and how to be one, on the most basic level.  I'm quite sure that the things I learned by being Kim's friend have helped me in other relationships throughout my life.  And even though we may not interact often with each other now, she will always have a special place in my heart.

It is not a slight then when they, who are so fresh from God, love us." ~Dickens

I am blessed to be loved by a number of little friends.  Once again, I have their names on my list, but for the sake of covering more people this month, I am going to write a general post about them as a unit.

I love my little friends, and by little, I'm talking about those who range in age from 0 to 11.  Some of them I am blessed to see each week, and others live far away.  Some call me Mrs. Tracy, some call me Aunt Se, and some can't say anything at all.

The children I'm talking about make me smile.  They are innocent, and "fresh from God," and full of life.  They are discovering much of life for the first time, and their enthusiasm and excitement is contagious.  Sometimes I wish their energy was equally so!  They sometimes wear out their parents, both in their energy and patience, and they say the most adorable things.  Sometimes they are even profound without realizing it. Some of them like for me to chase them, some like to be tickled, some like to play shy, and a few of them draw pictures and write letters that they mail to me - I treasure those sweet expressions, and am touched by each one.

In Matthew 19:14, Jesus said, "Let the children come to me, and do not hinder them, for to such belongs the kingdom of heaven."  These children I'm writing about possess that humble, innocent spirit that Jesus is speaking of here, and I would do well to try to be more like them.  They have an implicit trust and naivety about them that is refreshing.  They don't think the worst of others, or question motives.  They extend their love, and are abundant in sharing hugs and fist bumps.  They are not shy about expressing their love, and I am so very thankful for those "fresh from God" friends in my life.  Their love is overwhelmingly sweet, and I'm thankful to have a part in their lives.

"...let your adorning be the hidden person of the heart with the imperishable beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which in God’s sight is very precious." ~1 Peter 3:4

A "gentle and quiet spirit" aptly describes the woman I am writing about today.  I mentioned Sister Fairchild in the post I did on my friend Mary.  Sister Fairchild is Mary's mother.

Sis. Fairchild did not have an easy life.  I do not know much about her childhood, but I do know she married at a young age, and she and her husband had 4 children - 3 boys, and 1 girl.  I also do not know all of the details, but Sis. Fairchild's husband left her and the children for another woman, and Sis. Fairchild was left to raise the children all by herself.

Not having much of a formal education, she worked on that and was able to get a job to be able to provide for her family.  She told me one time that she doesn't know what she would've done without friends and neighbors, who pitched in to help her watch the children when she was working.  She also told me of how Christians helped her monetarily through those years.

Through it all, Sis. Fairchild's faith in God never wavered.  She was a small woman with a quiet voice, but she was apparently a large force to be dealt with when it came to ruling her house, and having her children in subjection to her.  She was strongly committed to making sure those kids grew up to love and serve God, in spite of the fact that they had no father.  And she did an amazing job of that.  One of my favorite Sis. Fairchild stories is about baseball.  Her boys played little league, and sometimes they would have a game on a Wednesday night, or on a night during a gospel meeting.  Sis. Fairchild would let them participate up until the time they had to leave to go to worship services.  They said that it didn't matter if their team was behind and they were up to bat in the bottom of the ninth with the bases loaded, and two outs - when their mother picked up her lawn chair and headed to the car, that meant it was time to go worship God, and they had better be following right behind her.

Because of that commitment she had to God and service to Him, she raised four fine Christian children.  One of her sons is a gospel preacher, and her daughter Mary - - well, you've already read about her.

I didn't meet Sis. Fairchild until later in her life.  The hand she was dealt early in life was of no fault of her own, and she would readily tell you it was hard.  Really hard.  When I met her, she was suffering through another hardship - lymphoma,which she fought through and overcame as well.  She cheerfully persevered through hardships, and enjoyed the blessings that came with her hard work and dedication later in life, as her children "rose up and called her blessed."  Those others of us who knew her praised her as well.

I loved spending time with Sis. Fairchild.  She was small and feeble, but she loved to joke and laugh.  She LOVED the Texas Rangers, and that was back in the day when they won very few games.  She loved sports of all kinds.  I remember one year when the Dallas Cowboys were in the Super Bowl, our kids had the chicken pox, and Jeff was working out of town.  (A few of our guy friends volunteered to come over and "babysit" that Sunday night so I could go to worship, but I declined those offers!)  Sis. Fairchild was undergoing chemo treatments at that time, and she told me later that if she had known I was home, we could've watched the Super Bowl together!  She also loved her family, and was passionate about them.  And she loved me, she told me that often, and my life was better because of her love.  But most of all, she loved God, and loved to talk about how blessed by Him she was.  Her faith in Him never wavered.  When the end of her life approached, she confirmed that resolve to her family.

From Sis. Fairchild, I learned more than I can list in a paragraph.  I learned that God is always there, and if you truly put Him first, He will see you through the most difficult of trials.  I also learned that unwavering dedication to teaching your family, in spite of all obstacles, pays off with great blessings in the future, and that one small, gentle lady can pack a powerful punch of influence.  Sis. Fairchild taught me that it's important to move on, and to be happy, and to not let bitterness take root.  I miss Sis. Fairchild, and I'm thankful for the blessing she was in my life.  I'm also thankful for the way she raised her daughter, and my friend, Mary.

"Granny always made you feel she had been waiting to see just you all day and now the day was complete." ~Marcy DeMaree

I loved my Granny.  She was my dad's mother, and the only grandmother I ever knew.  She was raised in rural East Texas, and never ventured far from her roots her entire 92 years on this earth.  She traveled to Dallas a few times, as well as Austin, but that was about it.  Granny also never drove a car, which is amazing to consider in this day and age.  She was the youngest of four children, and the closest in age to her - her sister, Ruth - died at the young age of 19 during childbirth.  Granny talked a lot about Ruth, and I think she missed her throughout the rest of her life.

Granny was synonymous with cooking.  I can still taste her chocolate roll, her candied sweet potatoes, and her banana cream pie.  Cooking everyone's favorite things was her love language, and so on holidays we would have at least as many desserts as people who were there.  There was always talk about how the table just wasn't big enough to hold it all, and Granny loved that.  She shared some of her recipes with me, but since she cooked mostly without anything written down (a dash of this, and a dollop of that), my renditions of Granny's dishes just never taste as good.  Christmas was always spent at Granny's house, and all of that cooking she did produced tons of dirty dishes, but Granny didn't have a dishwasher.  The rule of the house was always that the kitchen had to be cleaned up before presents could be opened, and that rule was torture to Granny's four grandchildren when we were younger.

When I got old enough to drive, I loved to go over to Granny's house to have a visit with just the two of us.  Those visits became longer and more frequent when my parents moved out of state, and I was living on my own.  I would go spend the day with her, use her washer and dryer, and, of course, eat her cooking.  I'll never forget the one day I dropped by unexpectedly, and she had just taken a coconut cream pie out of the oven.  I asked if she was having company, and she said, no - she made that for herself!  That was my Granny.  Granny always told me I was her favorite, and I really believe she meant that.  Of course, she may have told the other grandkids the same thing, and they believed her, too.

Granny suffered a lot of loss in her life.  I already mentioned her sister, and she also outlived her other siblings, and of course, her parents.  My PawPaw, Granny's husband, died when I was 13.  Then Granny's youngest son, my Uncle Bill, died at the age of 64 from cancer.  A few short years later, her only surviving child - my daddy - died as well.  When my daddy died, Granny was in a nursing home, where my dad would visit her daily, sometimes multiple times a day.  The day following his accident, it fell to me to go tell Granny about his passing.  That was the hardest thing I've ever had to do in my life.

Granny lived just a few years after my dad passed away.  In her final years, her mind was not as sharp, and there were days I would visit her when she didn't really know who I was.  That was hard for me.  But I enjoyed the humorous times with her as well - like the day I insisted on taking her outside because it was a beautiful spring day, and she reluctantly got into the wheelchair before asking me if I was a good driver.  That same day, she told me I was pretty and asked me if I had a boyfriend - at that point Jeff and I had been married for about 15 years.  The day Granny died I was there, and it was a long, difficult day.  She had seizures throughout the day, and was completely unresponsive.  I felt a great sense of relief when her soul finally departed her body, and I told my brother that Granny probably said, "Phewww!  I'm glad that's over!"    I'm glad I was there, though, and I would like to think that Granny knew of my presence.  I would also like to think she heard me tell her how much I loved her, and that she knew and felt when I kissed her on the cheek as I told her goodbye for the last time.  But I try now not to think much about that last day.  Instead, when I think of Granny I like to remember walking into her house, and seeing that big smile, and hearing her say, "Well, look who's here!"  I like to remember her little chuckle of a laugh, the way she adored Jeff, and how she loved my kids.

I'm thankful for my Granny, and loved her deeply.  Without her, I literally wouldn't be here, but that much is obvious.  I'm most thankful that she laid the foundation for my dad's strong faith, which grew to it's fruition as he served in two different congregations as an elder.  And as a result, he taught his children, who are teaching their children, who will teach their children . . . the influence of one can be far-reaching.  From Granny I also learned that family traditions are important, and make a lasting impression.  I miss my Granny, but was blessed to have her in my life as long as I did.  And I hope if she could see me now, she would still call me her favorite.

"He preaches well that lives well." ~Miguel de Cervantes

When I was 15 years old, Chuck and Wilna moved to Longview to begin Chuck's first work as a gospel preacher.  They quickly endeared themselves to the entire congregation.  Chuck combined a studious and diligent attitude toward his sermons with a quick wit and unique sense of humor in everyday life.  (And I stress UNIQUE!)  They both worked hard at nurturing relationships, especially among the young people.  I remember many Sunday nights after services that were spent at their home, eating hamburgers and Blue Bell ice cream, playing games, and making memories.

Several months after they moved to Longview, Chuck preached a sermon I will never forget.  It was titled, "Fleeing Youthful Lusts."  Chuck got VERY specific about movies he knew some of the young people had seen, and other things that several had been involved in.  A lot of preachers might just anger their hearers with a sermon like that, but because everyone knew that Chuck's words were spurned by his love for our souls, he was well received that night.  I don't remember exactly how many responded, but at least a dozen teenagers came forward to ask for forgiveness and prayer, and I came forward, too - Chuck baptized me into Christ that night.

For the next several years, I sat at Chuck's feet week after week, listening to him preach the Word, being challenged to be better, and growing with each lesson.  His sermons were always well-planned, and he always taught me something.  But not only did he impart knowledge, he made his sermons very applicable to my life.  He put a handle on it, so that I was able to grab hold and carry it with me into my everyday life.

When Jeff and I got married, Chuck participated in officiating our ceremony.  He led a beautiful prayer on that occasion that I still remember to this day, and of course, provided great comic relief at the reception.

Chuck and Wilna were blessed to have a son while they were in Longview, but Jonathan's life began with trial, as he was born extremely premature.  They spent a long time in a Dallas hospital, and once they were home, their medical challenges continued throughout Jonathan's early life.  After Jeff and I got married, we lived in Dallas, and had opportunity to have Chuck stay with us sometimes when he and Wilna would bring Jonathan back to see doctors.  I was always encouraged by those visits.

For the past several years, my kids have been students at Texas A&M, and members at the Twin City church of Christ.  Chuck preaches there, now, and I have loved it that my kids are getting to experience the full effects of knowing Chuck and Wilna, and sitting at Chuck's feet each Lord's Day just like I did as a young person.  They have grown to love Chuck and Wilna for the same reasons I do.  When we visit our kids, Chuck and Wilna open their home to Jeff and me to stay overnight, and I always love those visits with them - reminiscing about the past, sharing in the present, and looking toward the future.

Through the years Chuck and Wilna have taught me a lot.  They have shown me how beneficial it is on both sides to form close friendships with young people, and how to encourage young folks in a volatile, uncertain time of life.  Through their medical trials, they've shown me the steadfast love of being a parent, and the need to always rely upon God for strength.  They've taught me that old friendships are indeed the best, and that a common love and service to God keeps people close.  Chuck will never fully know what an impact for good he had on my young life, nor how much of an impact he is having for good in the lives of my children.  I love Chuck and Wilna in a special way, and feel very blessed and thankful for the part they continue to play in my life, and in the lives of my children.

“I enjoy the spring more than the autumn now. One does, I think, as one gets older.” ~ Virginia Woolf

If you have children, you know how special people are to you who simply love your children.  Jerry and Judy were like that for me.  When our kids were little, they sat at the end of the row where we sat at every assembly.  They were an older couple, slightly older than my parents.

Judy was always so good to help me with the kids whenever Jeff served in the public assembly.  She would just move over and grab a child, never waiting to be asked.  The kids loved Jerry and Judy because of the interest they showed in their little lives.  When we were making the guest list for Caleb's 2nd birthday party, he immediately said he wanted to include them - and they came.

Caleb usually wore a suit to worship when he was little, and Judy would always ask him if he had any money in his pockets.  She thought every little boy should have some, so she would always give him change to keep in his pocket.  She was also involved with the kids' Bible classes when they were small, and they loved having Mrs. Judy as their teacher.

In addition to her love for my kids, Judy also set a great example for them of serving older people.  She lovingly cared for a couple of older, widowed ladies in the congregation who did not have family nearby.  She spent a lot of time with them, not only selflessly caring for them, but seeking their wisdom and knowledge through Bible study with them.

We moved away from Jerry and Judy when the kids were ages 5 and 3, but Judy kept in touch with them.  Even to this day, our kids get individual Christmas cards from Jerry and Judy - something they began about 17 years ago.  And while the kids' memories of them are vague, they have always felt their love.

Jerry and Judy taught me how much natural affinity a mother can have for someone who loves her children.  They showed me by their example that everyone benefits from forming friendships and paying attention to both the very young and the very old.  They have had a lasting influence for good, and gave my children one of their first lessons in service.  My kids lives have been enriched by Jerry and Judy, and I am thankful to God for allowing our paths to cross.

"One person with passion is better than forty people merely interested." ~E. M. Forster

Passionate.  I cannot think of a better word to describe my friend Anastasia.  I first met Anastasia when she moved with her husband and two boys to the area we lived around 1991.  She and her family worshiped with us in Richardson, but they lived near us in Carrollton, which was unusual - being members of a church in the Metroplex usually meant members were scattered for miles.  Our children were near the same ages, and we spent lots of days together at the park or at each other's home.

Anastasia became my "go to" person for babysitting the girls when I was pregnant with Caleb and had to go for prenatal checkups.  My girls called her "Ms. 'Stasia," and they were scared to death of her!  Of course, at that point in their lives, they were scared of just about everything, but it was funny how they loved her, as long as it was from a distance.  Remember the first word I used to describe her?  Her passion for everything she did produced a very loud, outgoing personality - something which my girls were not used to!

Anastasia was always there in a pinch.  I knew that I could call upon her for anything I needed, and she would be available at a moment's notice.  Her husband, James, was the same.  Toward the end of my pregnancy with Caleb, I was restricted by my doctor, and was not able to attend Ladies' Bible Class.  One Tuesday morning after class, my doorbell rang, and I opened it to find the ladies' class!  Organized by Anastasia, they were there to clean my house and do my laundry.  Later on, Anastasia organized meals to be brought to our house daily for about a month.  I was always moved by what she did for me, but Anastasia blessed me by reciprocating that.  On several occasions, she would call me when she needed something in a pinch - babysitting, her yard mowed, etc.  I loved it that she felt like she could do that as well.

Anastasia and I didn't always agree, but she respected my beliefs.  Even though we often disagreed on matters of judgment spiritually, one thing I never doubted was her deep love for God, and her passionate desire to serve Him with her all.

Several years after I met her, she moved with her family to Oklahoma.  I missed her, and we were blessed on several occasions to meet up with each other to visit.  A few years after they moved to Oklahoma, her husband James passed away after a short illness.  He was only 42, and left Anastasia with 4 children, the youngest of whom was only 7 months old.  In true Anastasia fashion, she plugged through her grief and tragedy with a strong resolve to raise her children in the Lord, and to serve Him in all she did.  She has since remarried, and continues to be a blessing to those who know her.

From Anastasia, I learned that you can be friends with people who are polar opposites from you on the personality scale!  And in those friendships, you can grow by seeing things from a different perspective.  She taught me that even when we disagree, we can still find common ground if we are both serving God.  From her I learned that having people you can call in a pinch is wonderful, but it is equally great to be able to be that person for someone else.  Through the way she responded to her great loss, she taught me how to approach the death of a loved one with faith and resolve.  My life is better because Anastasia touched it.  And as an added bonus, my girls aren't scared of her anymore - at least, I don't think they are!

"Simply having children does not make mothers." ~John A. Shedd

Today I am going to cheat a little.  After all, it IS my blog, so cheating is allowed - right?  I have a number of young mothers on my list, and today I decided to lump them all together, simply because I would like to fit in as many people into these 30 days as I can.  If you are reading this, and you have young children at home, I'm writing about you today.  Some of you live here, and some of you have moved away.  I could list your names, but you know who you are!

I've been blessed to be able to have a few Bible studies through the years with the young mothers in our congregation.  I am always impressed with their love and dedication for their families, and their strong desire to raise children who serve God.  Some of these mothers stay home each day with their children, and some of them find it necessary to work outside of the home.  Most are married, and a few are not.  Of the ones who are married, most have Christian spouses, but some don't.  Wherever they fall in those areas, they encourage me.

I see mothers who sacrifice every day for their kids.  They give up sleep, nicer clothes, peaceful meals, and sometimes their sanity - all for the good of their children.  I see mothers who come to me and others for advice - not because we have all of the answers, but because they want to hear from someone who has been where they are, and survived.  I watch these mothers struggle with their youngsters during worship, sometimes making multiple trips outside to administer discipline - all so that they can teach them that worshiping God is important.  Is it easy?  No - but they don't give up!  These young mothers strive every day to live for Christ, and to grow in Him, because they know their kids are watching, and they also know that you cannot impart something that you don't have for yourself.  They work hard to teach their children about God, knowing that these precious souls they have been entrusted with will live eternally, and the choices they make as mothers during these early years will greatly impact the decisions their children will make for themselves when they are grown.

Being in the middle of mommy-hood, especially in the early years, can be scary, challenging, and frustrating.  Sometimes you feel like you are doing everything wrong, and other times you think that your child MUST be brain-damaged, because they just don't get it!  But these mothers I'm writing about today are sticking with it, and as their children are growing they are reaping the rewards.  I am observing a group of children who are growing up to honor their parents, to be a blessing to those around them, and most importantly, to love and serve God.  I'm thankful for all of the young mothers I know.  I love you all, and appreciate you so much for the tireless work you are putting into raising your children.  It truly is the hardest, but most rewarding job you will ever have. You encourage me, and give me hope for the future through your precious children.  Ahhh - those sweet children of yours - - that's a post for another day!

"Blessed is the influence of one true, loving human soul on another." ~George Eliot

Do you know someone who is always happy?  Someone who has a unique gift for intuitively knowing the needs of others, and not only knowing them, but always responding to them in exactly the right way?  Someone who goes above and beyond to help others?  I know several people like that, and the person I drew to write about today perfectly embodies those traits.

I first met Debby when I was a teenager.  She and her young family began worshipping with us.  Her husband was a Christian, and Debby was soon baptized.  That was probably close to 30 years ago, and Debby has not lost her new convert zeal or enthusiasm at all.

Debby owns a hair salon, and when I lived in the same town, I always went to her to get my hair cut.  I loved getting haircuts, because it always gave me time to visit with Debby.  In those early days of getting to know her, I discovered a woman who was passionate about her family.  She would share with me the things she was doing with her two young daughters, and what she was teaching them about life.  She had a deep love for God, and that love led her to talk to others about Christ.  It also led her to serve in selfless ways.  To this day, if Debby perceives a need, she always responds.  I am continually amazed at the things she does for other people, and I'm sure I don't know even the half of it.  Not only does she serve, but she LOVES serving.  She has one of those personalities that draws people in, as she is always happy, and always laughing.

On my wedding day, I woke up to find myself unable to speak.  The cold I had developed a few days prior had turned into full-blown laryngitis.  Everyone around me seemed to have a "solution," and I was soon filling myself with decongestants, tissue salts, and every other home remedy known to man.  Debby showed up at the wedding venue to style my hair, and she immediately sprang into action, ordering a LARGE cup of coffee for me to drink.  "The heat from the coffee will loosen the phlegm on your vocal chords," she said.  And she was right.  Thanks to Debby, I was able to say my vows in a voice above a whisper.  I was also a little stressed that day when I learned that one of my house party members couldn't be there because she woke up sick that morning.  Once again, Debby didn't miss a beat, and told me she would be happy to serve in her place.  And serve she did - with a big smile on her face.

I'm glad I know Debby.  She has taught me that passion for God and for family does not have to wane with time.  She has also taught me that serving others is not a one-time thing, but should be a lifetime, daily privilege for those of us who are Christians, and that service is always a joyful thing.  Her manner of life has also shown me that most of the time all we have to do is be perceptive, and it will be easy to see the needs of others and respond accordingly - we shouldn't wait to be asked.  Debby continues to be a blessing to me and to countless others.  I hope you know a "Debby," and more than that, I hope we can all be more like her.