Sad, Sad News

  

      


   Please join me in remembering a great icon of the entertainment community. The Pillsbury Doughboy died yesterday of a yeast infection and trauma complications from repeated pokes in the belly.  He was 71.
 





    
      Doughboy was buried in a lightly greased coffin.  Dozens of  celebrities turned out to pay their respects, including Mrs. Butterworth, Hungry Jack, the California Raisins, Betty Crocker, the Hostess Twinkies, and Captain Crunch.  The grave site was piled high with flours.
  




      Aunt Jemima delivered the eulogy and lovingly described Doughboy as a man who knew how much he was kneaded.  Born and bread in Minnesota, Doughboy rose quickly in show business, but his later life was filled with turnovers.  He was not considered a very smart cookie, wasting much of his dough on half-baked schemes. Despite being a little flaky at times, he still was a crusty old man and was considered a positive roll model for millions.
  





      Doughboy is survived ny his wife Play Dough, three children: John Dough, Jane Dough, and Dosey Dough, plus they had one in the oven.  He is also survived by his elderly father, Pop Tart.
  
     The funeral was held at 3:50 for about 20 minutes.

  

      If this made you smile for even a brief second, please rise to the occasion and take the time to pass it on.  Share that smile with someone else who may be having a crumby day and kneads a lift!

          SHALOM  Y'ALL - 
    
             TWYLA

The REAL Tea Party!

Mom & Dad's dog, "Puppy"

     Okay.  The Tea Party is in the news daily.  But, I would like to share the REAL Tea Party news with you...
  
     When my daughter was about to turn 21, she was in a state of deep depression.  Only 3 weeks prior, her fiance had died in a freak accident;  he had been her high school sweetheart; they were best friends; they were prom king and queen. She was in a state of absolute shock, severe grief, heartache.  She lost a lot of weight.  Her hands shook.  She was a wreck.
     And, here comes her 21st birthday...  HOW could I make my daughter smile?  And then, I got this crazy idea.  I have no idea where this idea came from, but I decided to have a "Mad Hatter's Tea Party" for her birthday.  I invited tons of people; almost everyone who was invited attended.  I gathered up all my grandmothers' old jewelry, my own costume jewelry, every scarf, every costume, every hat, every chunk of flashy fabric I could find...

yesterday's Tea Party

  
       I decorated  the buffet table with crumpled table linens, extra jewelry, little angels, Kewpie dolls, wrapped candies, you-name-it.  The menu was even topsy-turvy, including a punch bowl full of fruit salad - big wedges, including the rinds. Colorful mini-sandwiches.  Several teapots with various types of tea.  A giant pot of hot chocolate. No paper plates and cups for this party! Everyone got a china plate and a fancy teacup and saucer from my vast collection of same.  No two teacups were alike, and most of the plates were only duplicated once or so... There was no set pattern to anything, yet, it was artistically balanced and a feast for the eyes.

Moshe & me at an earlier Tea Party

      The invitations instructed everyone to wear a hat of some sort, and included the "warning" that if you did not arrive wearing a hat, one would be provided.  As the guests arrived, everyone was instructed to "help" each other get "dolled up".  Matchy-matchy would not be tolerated.  Ohhh, the ladies got into the spirit!  We had the tackiest bunch of outfits one could never imagine.  Towards the end of the party, each guest had their photo taken by yours truly.  We had a wonderful wall that my daughter had painted with giant flowers;  this became "the portrait wall".  Each person was also instructed to bring a talent.  It could be a serious talent or something silly.  Some people sang or played piano, some recited funny poems, one little girl wrote an original song that she sang for my daughter.  It was great.
     The party lasted for about five hours!  Never before had there been so much laughter at a get-together.  The party was a hit.  My daughter escaped her pain for a few hours, not only smiling but laughing.  A lot.  I am certain that she - and many others who were grieving the loss of Jeff - appreciated the craziness of that tea party.
  

Hayley, a young guest a few years ago...

      Since then I have had many, many tea parties.  Often they were dinner parties in which the startled guests  were surprised by my coming to the door in tea-party attire, and announcing that they were going to have to dress up, too!  Sometimes they were planned events - birthday parties,  wedding showers, baby showers, even a couple of Sunday school parties.  There was always the element of surprise for at least some of the guests.  I dropped the idea of the talent show, because it took a lot of time.  And the food and table decorations aren't always as crazy as that first celebration.  One time a couple  friends dropped by unannounced during a tea party... The guests all pitched in and decorated my hapless friends;  I got out a couple more plates, etc., and those two girlfriends never forgot that experience!
     Every time,  no matter how young or old;  male or female; mad, sad, or glad;  every person in attendance spends the majority of tea party time laughing.  It is a trip back to childhood wherein one can laugh at themselves and at each other with an innocence long since past.  Worries about weight or age vanish.
  

cutting the cake... Like father, like son???

       So, THAT is the real tea party!  Yesterday, we had our most recent tea party.  It was a belated birthday party for my brother, Rick.  We had a spaghetti dinner, homemade bread, a big tossed salad, OMG cake, and lots of gooey ice cream.  And, of course, there were the tea pots full of spiced tea for our fancy tea cups.
Over the years I have accumulated  so much costume stuff that nowadays folks can wear outrageous outfits, with plenty to spare.
     Glenn Beck talks about the Tea Party almost every day.  And, I know he is pro-Tea Party.  But, I wish he could see one of THESE Tea Parties- Now THAT would be worth reporting on!

all the animals dressed up, too!

          SHALOM  Y'ALL-


              TWYLA

What If I'd Made the OTHER Decision?

     I saw this video on Facebook, and it reminded me of a story I've been wanting to share for a long time.  Since this week is Right to Life Week, it's an appropriate time.  TAKE THE TIME to go to this video; it is beautiful.  The video is not embedded like YouTube videos are;  so you must go through the link to the church that posted it... It is well worth the extra step.
  

And, now, my story:  I started babysitting at a very early age - 11 years old.  I kept babysitting for that same family, and, by the time I graduated from high school, they had five children, the youngest being 5 years old.  I knew from that wonderful big family that I wanted to marry and have a bunch of children. But, when I was 19 or 20 years old - I can't remember exactly - I had an emergency surgery for a ruptured ovarian cyst.  They had to take the ovary and the tube as well as the cyst.  The surgeon told me that the other ovary and tube were hopelessly twisted, and that I would never have children.
 

       Over the years I told myself  that it was "for the best".  I can remember telling that to girlfriends, saying such things as, "Oh, well,  I guess I never REALLY wanted kids anyway."  (I realize now that those friends certainly didn't believe me when I said such things... Anyone who remotely knows me knows that I have a soft heart for baby critters of various sorts.  It was a coping mechanism. Denial, pure and simple.) I concentrated my energy toward my work and hobbies.  I think I tried 'most every hobby there ever was.  I made candles, I sewed, I did stained glass, I painted, I did macrame, knitting, crocheting, cross stitch, embroidery, cake decorating.  I played piano and guitar, and sang for weddings, church services, funerals... well, you get the idea... I stayed busy.   I went  out and "partied" occasionally, but it was never really my favorite thing... I always enjoyed decorating my various houses and apartments.  I always enjoyed cooking and baking and "keeping house", even though I lived alone all those years.



     About thirty-four years ago I was living in San Francisco.  I had a very good job working as an internal auditor for Macy's of California. While working there, I met a gorgeous man.  He was tall, dark, and handsome. He was also very funny, very charming, sang like an angel.  I had an affair with him.  It's not my proudest moment, but that's what happened. He was irresistible. (Unfortunately I found out later that he was irresistible to other gals as well... but, I digress.)
 



       I got a really bad cold.  The bronchitis kind, where you cough and gag and feel like death.  I went to my HMO's hospital to get checked out and see if I needed antibiotics or something... A couple of miraculous things happened with that medical visit.  #1:  I had never used my HMO before, so they did a standard  set of tests  - a patient baseline should I ever return.  This baseline included several blood  and urine tests.  We'll get back to that in a minute.  #2:  The doctor prescribed an antibiotic, which I took.  And a cough medicine, which - for some reason - I just didn't feel right taking.  (Yes, I had that terrible cough, but, somehow, something told me NOT to take that cough syrup!)


      A couple days later, I answered my phone at work.  It was someone from the hospital:  "Congratulations... We just wanted to let you know that your pregnancy test came back positive.  We have set you up with an Obstetrician for such and such date.  And, the doctor wants you to stop taking the cough syrup because it has codeine in it and it could hurt the baby."
  

And the earth stood still.  Oh, my gosh.  There I was at work.  Nobody to tell this shocking but wonderful but terrible news to.  I don't know how I made it through the rest of the workday,  but I did.  I don't remember who I told first... maybe my brother and sister-in-law, who also lived in San Fransisco at the time.  I know I told one friend at work.  Her name was Margaret-Ann.  The moment she heard my news, she said, "Whatever you do, don't have an abortion.  I had one, and I've never gotten over it.  No matter what anybody tells you, it's a bad, bad thing."  I told her I  wasn't  even considering it;  I knew it wasn't the right decision for me.
  

     Of all the many people I knew, only one woman suggested that I have an abortion.  I told her it wasn't an option for me.  The baby's father didn't suggest it.  He offered to marry me, but I declined.  I knew it would be a mistake.  (By then I was aware of the other ladies who found him irresistible;  I knew I couldn't live my life with a cheater, no matter how handsome or charming.)  And so, I prepared to become a single mother.  I never doubted that I could handle it. My pregnancy was fabulous;  it was the opposite of what most women report.  I felt wonderful the whole time.  I glowed.  I had energy.  I was very, very happy - all the time.  It didn't slow me down at all - I walked, exercised, cleaned, you-name-it,  just as I always had.

       The delivery was equally as wonderful.  I did  LaMaze natural childbirth and the baby was born less than three hours after I went to the hospital.  She was born smiling and bright-eyed, looking all around the room, full of wonder at her new surroundings.  I took to motherhood like white on rice.  It was a good thing. Not necessarily an easy thing; but, a good thing.

       There were lots of tough times for me while she grew up.  I married when she was a baby, but that was a mistake.  From then on, it was just my daughter and me.  I always had a lot of energy, so it worked out pretty well.  I worked lots of hours, but had the energy to spend time with her.  We had a very interesting life.  For example, one day in the middle of August I decided we should color eggs as an art project.  We colored some great eggs that day... We took clay and made feet and noses, turning pink, blue, and green eggs into pigs, dogs, and cats.  We painted eggs to look like the globe, trying  our best to make sure that all the continents were on it.  We dunked and colored and waxed and created and laughed.  The little girl who lived next door came over,  saw what we were doing, and ran back home, shouting, "Mommy! They're coloring Easter eggs, and it's not even Easter!"
  


       Such was our life. More interesting than most people's, I think  We didn't have much money, but we lived!  I remember one time we made a meal together in which every item had to be round.  (Oddly enough, that same little girl came over and saw our odd meal... I wonder how much we warped that kid's mind?) We always had cats, and they were just as likely to walk through my kitchen with a dress or a sweatshirt on as not.  We had an imaginary TV cooking show, which I was the star of and my daughter was the director.  This went on for YEARS, and we never seemed to get tired of it. We still occasionally call each other by our "cooking show names".

          I could go on and on with stories of our life together.  It wasn't perfect;  I certainly wasn't perfect; but, it was good. My daughter is now thirty-three years old.  She is beautiful, talented, and very popular..  She is married, as she puts it, "to my handsome best friend".
     I have never regretted - not even for a second - my decision to keep the baby and to raise her myself.  Life begins at the moment of conception.  It pains me terribly to think that the world has been cheated out of the pleasure of knowing many, many wonderful children such as the one I was blessed with.  Who knows what talent, what intelligence, what love was lost through the decisions to abort babies... I don't write this to condemn those who made such a decision.  But, I do write in hopes that someone will make the right decision and NOT have an abortion.  Choose life!

     "I set before you life and death, blessings and curses. Now choose life..."  Deuteronomy 30:15

          Shalom  Y'all - Twyla
  
  

Brrrr-eavement

my watercolor, "One Wintry Night", 2008

    
       It is cold.  It is STILL cold, I mean.  What I mean to say it, it's cold!!!  Usually I totally enjoy all the seasons, but this year I am already tired of the cold.  We keep our thermostat set at 60 degrees (or should I say 60 de-grieves?), and try to make up the difference with the wood stove.  It is a full time job keeping wood cut, gathered, stacked, and burning.  And still I am cold.  And, it's only January... we still have February (my Hubby calls it "Febr-ugly")  and March to go...  I am tired of being cold.  I am tired of using the heating pad to warm my frozen feet, only to succumb to frozen fingers.
  

      It has frozen my creativity as well.  Who can do watercolors when their fingers are numb? This is a numbing coldness that spreads from the fingers to the soul.  And, who can do watercolors when their soul feels numb?  There is a place in my self that is cold as ice.  Please, Lord, defrost me!  Place Your hand on my hand and in my heart and take away the iciness.  I want to feel warm again.
  

      As a dear friend quoted to me last night:  "This day is holy unto the LORD your God; mourn not, nor weep... Go your way, eat the fat, and drink the sweet, and send portions unto them for whom nothing is prepared: for this day is holy unto our Lord: neither be ye sorry; for the joy of the LORD is your strength."  (Nehemiah 8: 9,10)
     Hmmm... Maybe, on this cold snowy day, I can keep this in mind, get out some paper, some paints, and be creative...  I can feel the warmth coming back.  Praise God.



SHALOM  Y'ALL  -  TWYLA

Walk On With Me

   

Garden of Gethsemane, Israel   (my photo)

    " My child, the path of duty is before thee. It may look rugged, but it is the only way of divine blessing. Choose out some other way. and ye shall find only disappointment and frustration of soul. Weariness shall overtake thee in the smoothest road, if it be not the pathway of my ordained will. Be not deceived by doubts, and be not detained by fears. Move into the center of My purposes for you: ye shall find there are glorious victories waiting for thee, and recompenses far exceeding every sacrifice.
 

my photo - Caiphas' house (gardens) , Israel


SHALOM  Y'ALL - TWYLA

   Be obedient: ye shall bring joy to My heart. Neither the applause nor the scorn of men should be of any consequence to thee. My approval is reward enough, and without this, any other satisfaction is not worthy of thy pursuit.
     Walk on with Me. I shall be very near to give thee support and encouragement, so ye have nothing to warrant thy fears. They shall vanish as ye obey."  
     ( from Come Away My Beloved by Frances J Roberts)


  
      P.S. If you have never read this book, you should! It is balm to the soul - no matter what is going on in you or around you!

Amish-Style Dried Apple Pie

 

    
      It's a blustery day here in the mountains.  A bit gloomy.  Warmer than it's been lately - according to the thermometer - but cold-to-the-bone according to our bodies. It seemed like a good day to bake a pie...
     I made a dried apple pie, using apples we dried last summer.  The recipe is below.  This pie is on the tart side;  if you like a sweeter pie, use as much as twice the sugar called for in the recipe. (I like the tartness, but my Hubby said, "Honey, did you forget to put sugar in that pie?")

 

                                                                        
   Dried Apple Pie

2  1/2 Cups Dried Apples
2 1/2 Cups Water
3/4 Cup Sugar
1 teaspoon Cinnamon
1/9 teaspoon salt
2 teaspoons Butter
optional: egg white, 1/4 cup sugar

     Cook dried apples in water until tender.  Add sugar, cinnamon and salt.  If it is too juicy, add a little bit of cornstarch.  Pour into pastry-lined pie pan.  Dot with butter and add top crust.  Put a few slits in the top crust for steam to escape.  Bake at 350 degrees for 35 minutes;  brush top with lightly beaten egg white,  sprinkle with sugar, and bake for another ten minutes.
     Enjoy, with ice cream or with a nice wedge of sharp cheddar cheese!

     Shalom  Y'all - Twyla

More Humorous Experiences from Yours Truly

     About a week ago I wrote down some of my funny, but true stories from over the years.  After writing that post (and getting emails and phone calls from people really liking it),  I remembered a few more... So, on this rainy afternoon, I sit here with a bit of a headache, and I'm going to recount a few more of my strange experiences.  Several of these are "bathroom humor", so if you don't like that type of humor, don't read today's post.  Sorry.

      When I was about sixteen or seventeen,  I was sitting in the den with my parents. Mom and I were watching TV, and Dad was sitting there with us, but he was reading.  Mom passed a bit of gas - a bit noisily.  She and I  chuckled a tiny bit, and that would've been that... except that my Dad, apparently  misunderstanding the sound because he was reading,  said, "What 'd you say?"  Well, that struck Mom and me so funny! We laughed and laughed.  My Dad kept saying, "Well, what's so funny?  WHAT did you say?"  And every time he would ask, we would laugh even harder.  Finally, Dad left the room, saying, "Well. If you won't let me in on the joke, I'll just leave."   I don't know if Mom ever told him the "secret word", but I know I didn't!

  

 When I was even younger - probably  thirteen or fourteen - I frequently took walks down our winding country road.  I would walk down the road when it was about time for my Mom to come home, then hitch a ride back home with her.  It was a way to have some alone-time with Mom, I guess.  So, one day, I was walking... I hadn't gotten very far when I saw her little red car come around the bend.  Feeling silly,  I went out into the middle of the road, turned around with my back to the car, and wiggled my butt.  I danced around,  jumped some, then wiggled my butt some more.  I turned to try to see Mom's face because I knew she should be getting close...  Just as I turned, I saw the little red car turn into the neighbor's driveway.  The neighbors apparently had bought a new car without asking for my permission.  In the car was the mother of the household and her very cute son who was a year or two older than me... Ugh.

     About ten years ago, I decided to try my hand at selling my house by myself.  I put ads in the papers, sent out flyers, etc.  The house I was selling was a big old house on the "Historic List",  so it drew a lot of attention.  But, it was a lot of work!  Many people were just curious to see inside an old house which had been restored and was full of antiques.  Trying to be my own real estate agent was a horrible experience, and it definitely worked on my nerves... So, one evening when a rather rude man phoned me with a dozen or so questions,  I was getting tired of playing the game.  It was obvious that this man thought a lot of himself and not much of other people.  His questions were obviously designed to make my house seem "yucky" so that he could make a low ball offer... Finally, he asked me about the railroad tracks, which were about six blocks from the house.  (It was a well-known fact that everyone in the town was within hearing distance of the train; you get used to it, and never pay it any notice after a week or so) But, what he asked was, "Do you hear the railroad tracks very often?"  I answered, "No, sir. I can honestly say that I have never heard them."  He hung up... Imagine that!

     Sitting in church many years ago, I was amazed and amused when the pastor began his sermon with the following:  "Folks, as you sit out there in your church pews, you probably don't realize that the word "pew" comes from the Latin verb, "pew-ee"...  And, I started chuckling.  Couldn't help myself.  Couldn't control it. It started as a small snicker, then built, y'know?   Nobody else in that church laughed. I didn't stay in that church very long...






     Another church experience:  The church service was about to begin.  The Associate Pastor made the announcements - you know, stuff like the next church social will be a potluck picnic on such and such a date, etc.  His last announcement went something like this:  "The water has been temporarily cut off for the restrooms, so y'all will need to use the restrooms in the fellowship hall.  If you or your children need to use the restroom, you'll need to walk up one of the side aisles and go outside and on to the fellowship hall.  Don't worry about disrupting the service; no matter what, God is still on the throne."  Unlike the previous church experience, at least fifty people starting roaring with laughter.

by NYelta

 


  When my Grandmother passed away, we had her funeral and viewing in the small town I lived in for so many years.  She had been an invalid for a long time, and really didn't know much of anybody other than her visiting nurses.  She didn't know anyone in my town other than family, so I was very surprised when an elderly lady came in to Grandma's visitation room.  The lady was flashy - she had bright-red-dyed hair, lots of rouge and lipstick, colorful clothes - almost clown-like.  She came up next to me, looked at Grandma, and asked, "Who is she?"  I answered with Grandma's name, and asked the lady how she was acquainted with my Grandmother.  The flashy lady replied:  "Oh, I don't know her.  I don't know anybody here today.  I just come to the funeral home every day and walk around to see who died."  Now, THAT is small-town USA!




     One time when I was in my mid-twenties I went to the movies with my neighbors. We were taking my friend's little girl to see "Snow White"  Upon entering the lobby, an excited little girl came running up to me, dragging her Daddy with her.  "Are you Snow White?, she said.  I smiled at her, and her father said, "We just saw the movie, and you DO look a lot like Snow White."  I thanked them,  told the little girl that she looked like Cinderella, and we our separate ways.  At the time I guess I really DID sort of look like Snow White... I had medium-length black hair, very fair skin. I was slender, and I was wearing a cherry-red jumper that day over a black blouse.  Well, I just couldn't stop thinking about that encounter.  It made me feel so pretty!!!
Near the end of the movie, I realized I wasn't going to make it through the show without a trip to the ladies room.  So, of course, I excused myself and found the women's bathroom.  When I came out of the restroom and through the lobby, I noticed several people were watching me. I thought, "Wow. I need to wear this red jumper more often!  These people really think I'm attractive!"  Then, as I arrived at the auditorium door, I looked down to see where the doorknob was.  And I saw a piece of toilet paper about ten feet long which had stuck to my shoe in the restroom. Oh, pride goeth before destruction and an haughty spirit before a fall!

  
Shalom  Y'all - Twyla
  
  

Shades of a Summer Picnic on a Winter's Day

one of the nearby creeks this morning

  

      Wow. It had been nine days since anyone from our household ventured into town.  There is still snow here - especially on the secondary roads where we live.  But the Jeep made the trip just fine.  Actually, I probably wouldn't have made the trip today, but I had to have routine blood work done... So, I waited until 10 AM, hoping for some thawing,  and went to the hospital  lab, then on to the grocery store. It was kind of exciting going into town, seeing other people - including a dear neighbor of ours - finding town quiet but intact.
  

a friend's house, about a mile from ours...

      It was great going to the store and buying the few things we needed and a couple things we merely wanted... I bought cabbage and carrots - plan on making cole slaw this afternoon to go with the chicken I plan on broasting in the dutch oven.  Yummy - shades of a summer picnic on a winter's day.  I also got Moshe some cream so that he can make ice cream.  (I don't usually eat ice cream, but, if he made chocolate  ice cream, I would really, really, really like to taste it!)   Hmmm... maybe I should make some potato salad.  Wouldn't it be FUN to have a picnic?

                   

 ...But NOT on this table!!!

Shalom Y'all - Twyla  

 

Allow the Master Potter to Mold You

     "But the vessel that he was making of clay was spoiled in the hand of the potter, so he remade it into another vessel, as it pleased the potter to make."    Jeremiah 18:4

     Since I collect pretty teacups, I like this parable by an unknown author.  The story begins in an antique shop full on wonderful, colorful things from the past,  each item with a story, if only it could talk... A man and woman are shopping there for a special gift for their granddaughter's birthday.  They look through old figurines, dolls, and toys; but, none of them seems to be just right. Then, the grandmother sees something in a corner cabinet - and, somehow, she realizes that this is the perfect gift.
     "Ohm honey, look!", she exclaims, pointing at the item.  Carefully he reaches over, picks up a beautiful teacup, and looks at its painted patterns and designs. "Oh, isn't it pretty?" the grandmother says.  He nods. "I  think it's about the best-looking cup I've ever seen." And, as they stand together looking at the teacup, something amazing happens!  With a clear, sweet voice, the teacup begins to talk!!  "Thank you for the compliment, " the cup begins, "but I wasn't always like this, you know."
  

  Well, the grandfather, a little lit shook up from being talked to by a teacup, puts the cup back on the shelf and starts to walk away. But, his wife, who is more accustomed to odd things happening in antique shops, asks the teacup, "What are you talking about?  What happened?"  "Well, says the teacup, "I wasn't always beautiful.  In fact, I started out as an ugly, soggy lump of clay.  But one day a man with dirty, wet hands started slinging me around, pounding me on the worktable, knocking the breath  out of me.  I didn't like it one bit!  It hurt and it made me angry." " 'Stop!' I cried. But the man with the wet hands simply said, 'Not yet.'  Finally the pounding ended and I breathed a sigh of relief.  I thought my ordeal was over.  But it was just beginning..."
      "The next thing I knew I was being stuffed into a mold - packed so tightly I couldn't see straight. 'Stop! Stop!'  I cried, until I was squeezed too tight to utter another sound.  Parts of me oozed out of the mold, but he scraped those away.  The man seemed to know what I was thinking.  He just looked at me with a patient expression on his face.  And he said, 'Not yet' ".

    
  "Finally the pressing and scraping stopped.  But the next experience was even worse!  I was put into the
dark.  Then the temperature began to rise.  The air got hotter and hotter.  I was in agony.  I still couldn't talk, but within myself i was yelling, 'Get me out of here!'  And, strangely enough, through those thick furnace walls, I seemed to hear his voice say, 'Not yet'.  Just when I was sure I would be burned to ashes, the oven began to cool. Eventually  the man took me out of the furnace and released me from the confining mold. I relaxed.  I looked around and realized that I liked myself better now.  I was firmer.  I had shape and form.  This was better!"
    

"But then along came a short lady in an apron.  She pulled out her tiny brushes and started to paint all over me.  The brushes tickled and the fumes made me feel sick.  'I don't like that', I cried. 'I've had enough... Please stop.'  'Not Yet', said the short lady.  Finally she finished. She picked up her brushes and moved on. But, just when I thought I was really free, the man picked me up again and put me back into that awful oven.  This time was even worse because I wasn't protected by the mold!  Again and again I screamed, 'Stop!'  And each time the man answered through the furnace door, 'Not yet.' "
  

 "Finally the oven cooled and the man came to open the door. By that time I was almost done in.  I barely noticed when I was picked up, put back down, packed into a box, and jostled around... When I came to, a pretty lady was picking me up out of my box and placing me on this shelf next to a mirror.  And, when I looked at myself in the mirror, I was amazed.  No longer was I ugly, soggy, and dirty.  I was shiny and clean. And I was beautiful.  Could this really be me?"
     "It was then", said the teacup, "that I realized there was a purpose in all that pain.  You see, it took all that suffering to make me truly beautiful."

  



 God doesn't want to throw anyone away. Not even if you feel ugly, soggy, or dirty.  He didn't create us to throw us in the corner.  He didn't empty Himself into Christ Jesus and go to the cross for that: Our Lord didn't suffer for that:  He didn't rise from the dead for that.  God does not want broken pots. His will is that we remain open to His work in our lives.
     Respond to God and allow the Master Potter to do the beautiful work that He desires to do in you.

    




Shalom  Y'all - 


      Twyla

Do Animals Have Feelings?

     My hubby and I have different opinions on this one... He prefers the scientific explanation that animals have instincts, not feelings.  But, I think they have feelings very similar to our human ones. Fortunately, this isn't a terribly pressing matter in our household, and we can agree to disagree without much discussion.

"I'd do anything to please you... even wear this tiara..."

 Maybe because I am sensitive - both to my own feelings and those of others - I am also sensitive to the animals' feelings...  I love it when Moxie literally jumps for joy at the sight of my Jeep coming around the bend towards home... She runs to meet me, knowing that I'll open the door and let her "drive" up the curving driveway, both of us grinning all the way.   I love it when CassPurr comes into the office, quietly sits next to me, and bats at my arm - pulling it downward, as if to say, "Pet me -I'm lonely."  And I love it that without fail all the chickens start talking like crazy when they hear my voice.  The Peeps literally jump straight up and down at the sight of me.  Am I projecting my feelings onto them?  No, I don't think so... Believe me, I don't run down the driveway or bat anyone's arm.  And I certainly don't jump up and down! (Okay... on the last one I'd be willing to make an exception if someone sent me a check for a million dollars... or even a thousand.)



Cassie always walks toward the camera,resulting in photos like this!

      The animals have personalities, too.  When I was a little girl, we had a cat who would stand in the corner and pout if we laughed at her - it clearly embarrassed her and hurt her feelings.  On the other hand, CassPurr loves to be a clown and acts crazier and crazier the more we laugh at him.  I must admit Cassie is the only cat I've ever seen with this personality trait.  I had an old tom cat years ago who was so social,  he not only had to be a part of every occasion, he had to be the center of it!  And he grinned like a Chesshire cat - I kid you not.  Cats have a way, too, of sensing humans' feelings.  They know when you're sad or sick, and they are cuddly and comforting... Back when I had four cats, they were a pretty good family, but they had bouts of jealousy.  They could frown and shoot each other a dirty look...especially over attention from me. They played "king of the hill" on the ladder, and it cracked me up so much that sometimes I left the ladder up for days just so I could watch the competition. It warmed my heart when I'd come home from work to find those four little faces looking out the glass-paned front door, eager to say hello to their person.  They also would gather in a litle semi-circle all around the piano bench when I played music each morning.   They especially liked the slower music, and would settle down with a dreamy look in their eyes...Occasionally one would try to play along, resulting in frowns from the rest of the "audience".

"I'm worried..."

      I'm not an expert on dogs, but I know our Moxie.  She has got to be the most affectionate critter I've ever met.  (Thankfully, she doesn't lick - I can't stand that!)  But, she shows her affection by being our constant shadow... Moshe and I are together a lot, but when we are in separate rooms, she parks herself midway between the two of us.  If he is in the office and I am in the kitchen, she stays in the adjoining hallway until one of us moves.  Apparently she doesn't want to give either of us preferential treatment. Yesterday  Moshe and I cleaned house.  I scrubbed the kitchen while he vacuumed.  In order to vacuum, Moshe picked up Moxie's dog beds - one in the office and one in the bedroom - and moved them.  Meanwhile, I was cleaning everything in the kitchen, so I put her bowl and the pet waterer in the sink to wash 'em.   Moxie sat in the doorway entering the kitchen,  looking dejected and worried.  I told Moshe I thought she was afraid that we were sending her away to live somewhere alse.  No amount of talking or petting would console her, but once the beds and the bowl were back in place, she went back to her usual happy self.

  Beau is another example.  Beau is the stray dog we have adopted... sort of.  He sleeps under the front porch in a nest of hay.  He is great friends with Moxie; they run and leap and play together in an expression of pure joy.  We feed him morning and evening.  He will follow me out to the chicken coops and almost touch my hand, but if Moshe is with me, he follows further away.  Twice he came up and licked my hand when I called him, but mostly he won't get closer than a few feet away.  Somebody must have really mistreated Beau, and I can only hope that someday he will realize that we won't.  I've known people like that, too.. People who have been so hurt that they cannot and will not allow anyone to get too close to them.  Whether you're a person or an animal, it's a sad way to deal with emotional pain, isn't it?
    

My daughter was always a really good kid... Easy to live with, easy to bring up, and a good student.  I can only remember her getting in trouble at school a couple times.  Once for having a pea-shooting contest with her straw in the cafeteria. (That  STILL cracks me up! My sweet little Melody participating in a pea-shooting contest!!!)  The other time it was for arguing with her teacher... She had written an essay in which she described her cat, "Ozzie", as a person.  The teacher corrected her, saying, "Cats aren't people; they're animals." Melody said something like, "Well, maybe YOUR cats are animals, but OUR cats are people."
 


My crazy pre-computer cut and paste wedding photo; Ozzie is thegrey cat with the sweatshirt on; I am the bride...


    I  really couldn't scold her much for arguing with her teacher about that, now could I?  And, by the way, by the time Ozzie passed away, Melody was in highschool,  and Ozzie was so well-known in out little town that the entire tenth grade mourned his loss.  Seems to me that if an animal can invoke that much feeling in us, then we must be invoking feelings in them, too.
     Not a scientific study, I must admit.  But even so I maintain that animals have emotions.

Shalom  Y'all -
          Twyla