Beau

Beau, walking up the driveway

We have 2 cats, 17 chickens, 3 roosters, and 1 and 1/2 dogs.   The 1/2 dog is "Beau", or at least that's what I've named him.  Beau showed up on our property several months ago, every rib showing through his fur, skittish and shy. He slept under the front porch all winter.  He and our Moxie immediately became best buddies, and they eagerly look forward to runs in the woods, walks down the road, wading in the ice-cold nearby stream.  When it snowed, they were like excited children, running through the drifts, "laughing" and eating the snow... then, coming back to our yard,  soaking wet and out-of-breath, but happy.

He's a pretty boy, isn't he?

We have been feeding Beau twice daily all these months. He has learned to trust me enough that he shows up just before mealtime, and knows that  I will be filling his bowl without fail.  He knows my routine and always joins in on feeding the chickens.  Over these many months Beau and I have ever-so-slowly developed a friendship.  Small steps; very small steps.  At first he would follow me in the yard, keeping a distance of six feet or so.  Then, he would follow me closely, but never touching.  Then, he started coming up alongside of me and just barely touching my hand with his nose.  One day I spontaneously offered him a bite of cornbread - and he took it!  Then, another and another until the cornbread was gone.  Moshe and I both had tears in our eyes after that episode; it had to have taken a lot of gumption  for Beau to decide to trust me.  A few days ago, he allowed me to pet him.  He has taken to sleeping on the back porch, right up against the sliding glass door, as if to say, "I belong here... And I'm gonna'  be just as close to my new people as possible."

Best Buddies...

Meanwhile, Moxie-the-wonder-dog is so generous of our attention.  She shares the talking, the petting, and the food with her buddy, Beau.  When I call them, they come bounding up to me.  Beau still holds back, but I can tell that Moxie is telling him, "Go ahead.. Let her pet you... It feels good... She's nice."  Beau stands back and looks longingly at Moxie and me.

He looks longingly inside the house, too.  I suspect he's been inside a house before.  Will he ever be comfortable enough to come inside ours?  Who did he belong to?  And, why is he so scared of people - especially men?  We suspect that someone abused this precious dog... he has been abandoned at best... more than likely beaten as well.  I am thankful that Beau showed up at our house.  I am glad to be gaining his trust and his friendship.

Y'know, God wants to be our friend, much like I have wanted to befriend Beau.  We come to Him broken in spirit, perhaps broken in body as well... And He patiently waits for us to trust Him.  He stands at the doorway to heaven, bidding us enter.  And, the only thing holding us back is ourselves.

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

CassPurr

          Wow.  A year ago today I signed the papers on the mountain property.  Immediately after, I went to the Humane Society, formally adopted CassPurr, and we headed to our new home.  It has been an adventure ever since.
          I met CassPurr about three months before the adoption.  The day I first saw him, I was still reeling from the death of my dear Annie, who had been my companion for 12 years.  My daughter, Melody, and I entered the thrift store, not thinking about the fact that there would be animals there.  At first I didn't want to look at them, thinking it would pain my heart too much.  But, Melody coaxed me to meet "this big, beautiful white cat."  CassPurr was so charming!  He had me at "Hello"...

       Like so many animals adopted from the Humane Society, CassPurr had a sad past.  He had been owned by a young couple who, when she became pregnant, gave him to the Humane Society.  In ignorance, they thought he would harm the baby.  CassPurr stayed at the Humane Society    for several   months, living in a cage, getting out only at night to exercise in the back room of the thrift store.  The ladies at the Humane Society kept him longer than the usual time, hoping he would find a home and not be euthanised.

     I visited "Cassie" several times over the months while I waited for the closing date on the property. On my last visit before the closing, my Mom came with me.  We visited CassPurr, of course.  I told the employees I'd be back in a week or so to get him.  As we started to drive out of the parking lot, Mom said, "I have a feeling you should go ahead and pay for his adoption now."  I listened to my Mom's instinct, turned around, went back in the store, and adopted him with the understanding that I would pick him up on the date of the house closing.

     After I had CassPurr securely at our new home, the ladies at the Humane Society told me that CassPurr was scheduled to be euthanised the day I paid for his adoption and filled out the adoption papers. Had I waited until the house closing, he would have been gone. There are no coincidences in life. None.

                                                                                              Shalom,     Twyla