Faith, Folklore, and Friends

I have managed to read a lot of good books this year.  One hundred and twenty-four, just one short of last year's total, and I still have all day so maybe I'll have time to finish the one I have started. Some were biographies ( Every Day in the Sun by Dean Faulkner Wells), some were classics (T.S. Stribling's trilogy The Lodge , The Store , and Unfinished Cathedral), and some were historical (Shelby Foote's Shiloh ). Some books were required reading from the library book club: What it is Like to Go to War by Karl Marlantes, Water for Elephants by Sara Gruen, Nafertiti by Michelle Moran, plus nine others. Many, many more were books I read just because they made me happy. With so many books and so little time to read them all, a book has to be extra special for me to reread it. This year, I reread A Year Down Yonder by Richard Peck, Isaac's Storm by Erik Larson, Twilight by William Gay, and All Over but the Shoutin' by Rick Bragg. It was t

The autumn, with its Indian summer and varying temperatures, is long gone.  The winter solstice was eight days ago, and we are getting ready to put up a new, empty calendar as the earth just keeps right on spinning. But still, some of the leaves hang on, stubborn, unwilling to give up whatever it is that keeps them clinging to the tree.  Even the strong winds that came though with last week's cold front wasn't able to tear all the fragile stems loose.  Some may be able to hold on all winter, just to pushed away when spring sends out new leaves.   Such tenacity, when we see the futility of it from our lofty perches, seems misplaced, wasted. Could it be that it is just hanging there for an example for all of us? Real courage is when you know you're licked before you begin, but you begin anyway and see it through no matter what.          ~Harper Lee in To Kill a Mockingbird .

One of my favorite Christmas foods is popcorn; the fancy popcorn in the fancy tins.  They are so pretty, they can be left out on the counter top,  making it extremely convenient to grab a handful every time you walk by. Local stores almost always have them on sale on Black Friday.  They are great last-minute hostess gifts or nice to have on hand if some unexpected guests drop in.  One needs to buy enough to insure that there is some left for personal use.   I love the sweet and salty tastes combined, so I eat on all three sections at once.  Sometimes, when it is almost empty, I go completely wild and take out the cardboard partition and mix it all together.  Heavenly!! If you look closely, you will see that this one hasn't been opened yet.  I'm thinking it will last until late January. Life is good.

These cold mornings, a body needs to start off with something a little warmer than Raisin Bran.  I love those eggs, bacon, and pancake specials at Mel's Diner.  The hot coffee and friendly staff help in getting me warmed up for the day.  Of course, it is even better if you have a friend to share breakfast with. This Mel's Diner is in Pigeon Forge, Tennessee, and they didn't pay me to write this. They probably should as much as I advertise for them.  A gift certificate would be just fine, thank you. Now, I'm hungry!

 For my Grandma, Christmas cards were the best part of Christmas. People knew how much she loved them, and sent her one every year. Sometimes, the card to Grandma was the only one they sent out. She would put a heavy string across one wall, and hang her cards like clothes on a line. On good years, she had to make two lines.  Christmas cards may become a thing of the past, along with most other correspondence that is not digital. I still send them out, and love it when I go to the mailbox and it is full of cards. The first year I sent cards out after we were married, the postage was six cents. Yes, it is much more now, but I think it is worth forty-five cents to brighten some one's day and maybe cause them to smile. Every year when Christmas is past, I bundle the cards up and save them until the next year. One year, I made paper cones from them, then filled them with buttons for my quilting friends. I use them most for gift tags. This card is from my friend

  Little baby on the hay, soon there'll be another day when nails shall pierce Your hands and feet as You provide our sin's defeat.. Risen Jesus on the throne, we lift our praise to You alone - for You're the gift that we receive the moment that our hearts believe.                                               ~Roy Lessin

There is within all of us an instinct to go home, the place where we began, the place where we belong. We hear stories of lost dogs returning home, worse for wear, after traveling for miles and miles, across rivers and busy interstates, after weeks of being lost. Banding hummingbirds has proven that some return to the same feeders in the spring, after they have wintered in South America, hundreds of miles from the plastic red feeder that feels like home to them. Each year, the swallows return to Capistrano. Pacific salmon return to the stream where their life began.  The circle of life sometimes ends where it began, and somehow, we find comfort in that. Some terminal patients, knowing that their days on this earth are few, beg to leave their hospital beds and go home, to their place, to spend their final hours. Wounded soldiers on blood-drenched battlefields write of their desire to just make it home, to be surrounded by family, to be buried in familiar soil. Home

    Christmas                                         can't be found under the tree,  unless it is first found in the heart.

Generally, I don't enjoy things that make loud noises and produce nothing, except the loud noise, of course.   I've never been a fan of fireworks. I'm not talking about those fabulous displays we see on Independence Day or at midnight on December 31st, or the nightly shows at the Disney parks.   I'm talking about firecrackers.   My Grandma Gean loved firecrackers, and she never grew tired of them.   She couldn't afford to give all her grandchildren great gifts for Christmas, so she gave us all a small package of firecrackers.   She would wrap them in Christmas paper, and the little rectangular packages didn't vary much from year to year.     We celebrated Christmas with Grandma on the 24th, because in addition to being Christmas eve, it was an uncle's birthday. While Mama and Grandma and some others were busy getting the meal ready, they got us out of the house by giving us our gifts and a pack of matches. Every year, someone trying to be

It's here. The shortest, darkest day of the year, the beginning of winter. I know there is good in everything, but it is really hard for me to get excited about winter. The winters are usually mild in North Alabama, but those few cold, biting days are enough to turn me against it. Winter helps to refine us.  If it wasn't for winter, would we thankful for warm houses and good coats?  Would we ever know the joy of sitting in front of a fireplace as the cold and the day melts off?  Would we ever get to wear our fabulous knitted scarves? For the next few weeks, we will be celebrating the holidays and basically ignoring the bad weather, unless it is so bad that it interferes with driving.  Winter is still too new to be aggravating. About mid-January, reality sets in, and I start counting the weeks until spring.  I don't think I could live someone where winter lasts for six months or more. Blame it on my Southern blood.   One thing I know: the more harsh the

The coming of Jesus at Bethlehem brought joy to the                             world and to every human heart.  May His coming this Christmas bring to each one  of us that peace and joy that He desires to give.                                                  ~Mother Teresa

From 1955 to 1960, there was a television show called "The Millionaire." The rich man the show centered around gave one million dollars (worth about eight million today) to some poor soul the millionaire deemed to be deserving. We were always jealous of the person who got the money, knowing good and well we deserved it much more. We dreamed the star of the show would show up at our door. We talked about what we were going to do with our riches when he did. In retrospect, it seems we had some major fantasy/reality separation issues. Wouldn't it be fine if we could bless people like that? The people in my circle can't, but we do what we can. I fear we miss many opportunities to help because we are not paying attention of the life around us.   One Saturday morning not long past, I was at the grocery store a couple of minutes before it opened at nine. This particular grocery store rents shopping carts for a quarter; this way, they know you w

It is an ancient profession, perhaps one of the oldest.  It was the most undesired job, left for those who couldn't find a better way; the poor, the prisoners, the ones who had given up,  the ugly. Someone had to tend the sheep. Someone had to keep the flock together; to chase away the predators. They had to keep the little lambs from wandering off and getting lost. They had to keep moving sheep to different pastures, searching for fresh grass. The job sometimes fell on single men who had no family responsibilities, who could stay with the sheep day and night, who had accepted the stink and the cold and the monotony. They moved about with the sheep, living in tents or wagons. sleeping on the cold ground. Being a shepherd was a unforgiving, lonely job with little to eat and none of the comforts of home. Then the day came. The day God had known about since the beginning, the day that would change us forever. Heaven trembled with excitement. I wonder if the shepher

Dear Lord, grant me the grace of wonder. Surprise me, amaze me,   awe me in every crevice of your universe... Each day enrapture me with your marvelous things without number. I do not ask to see the reason for it all;          I ask only to share the wonder of it all. ~Abraham Joshus Heschel