Welcome to my most personal collection!
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Every time I look back over my life, I see the wonderful,
intricate patterns that God has woven out of the things
that have happened along the way. The images of those
memories stretch out behind me like a marvelous,
complex tapestry.
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Come along with me as I take a trip down memory lane
and review the stories tied to those images.
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If you would like to comment on one of the stories you
read here, there is an email form at the bottom of the
page for you to do so.
I look forward to hearing from you!
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As with everything I write, I lift these stories up . . .
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To His Glory . . . BJ
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Change ME!
Psalm 51:10 (KJV)
“Create in me a clean heart, O God; and renew a right spirit within me.”
2 CORINTHIANS 5:17 (KJV)
“Therefore, if any man be in Christ, he is a new creature:
old things are passed away; behold, all things are become new.”
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October 13, 2023
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This passage from Psalms makes a request of God . . . asking Him to change us. In the 2 Corinthians verse, we read God’s side of this question. It is so perfectly suited to the question asked that it could have easily been God’s direct response to our original request.
When we immerse ourselves in Jesus, fully trusting and believing what He did for us, he begins a miraculous change in our hearts. Gradually, steadily, He works to modify what was there before. Everything we were begins to pass away, becoming a thing of the past. Each thing has been replaced by something He would prefer to have there.
In the process, we become a totally new person.
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To His Glory . . . BJ
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My Father's World
(Reflections written during an Autumn road trip years ago.)
8-19-2023
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Driving west across Montana in early October, the stark contrasts of the scenery often took my breath away. As I stared out the window, drinking in the wide array of colors, my mind recalled the words to a hymn from my childhood . . .
This is my Father’s world,
And to my listening ears
All nature sings, and round me rings
The music of the spheres.
This is my Father’s world; I rest me in the thought
Of rocks and trees, of skies and seas –
His hands the wonders wrought.
~ by Maltbie Babcock; verse 1 of 3
Rolled out beside the car, like a golden velvet carpet, are seemingly endless fields of dry grasses. Scattered in the midst of them – hundreds of yards away – are clusters of trees, dressed in variously colored Autumn robes. Countless hues and shades are peppered among their abundant branches, from pale green and gold, all the way to brown. In between is every shade of orange, red, and yellow one can imagine.
Winding along nearby, is the blue-green ribbon of the Yellowstone River, following the highway gently through Eastern Montana. Rolling hills are carpeted in golden grass with low-growing bushes scattered along their sloping sides. There, your eyes are treated to vivid red, bright orange, even a funny sort of purplish brown.
In many places, this scene has been set down in front of the regal, dark green canvas created by a stand of pine trees. Combined in an unending arrangement of patterns, these images create a treasure for the eyes that causes your soul to catch its breath – and then exhale in contented joy and surprise.
Just when you think it cannot possibly get any more beautiful, you round a bend and see the backdrop that turns it all into a picture-postcard-come-to-life. Off in the distance to the west, the jagged shapes of majestic mountain peaks reach up to stab at the sky. Thanks to cooler temperatures and recent precipitation, their tops are draped in a blanket of sparkling white.
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The sky above is crystal clear blue, with warm sunshine bathing the scene before you. Your eyes are fixated on the picture outside your windshield. It seems as though three seasons have been placed on a single canvas. In reality, what you’re looking at is the amazing majesty that defines mountainous country in the Northern United States, during the Autumn of the year.
In Genesis, the Bible tells us that God created the earth, and it describes many aspects of this beautiful planet He gave us. That He saw what He had made, and it was good. I couldn’t agree more. As I look outside our car window – at the world my Father gave us to enjoy – I’m convinced of one thing. No words ever written can do justice to what I see. It is HIS . . . wondrously, amazingly HIS . . . and I feel truly Blessed to have the chance to witness it.
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To His Glory . . . BJ
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July 14, 2023
Freedom in the Truth
“. . . If you hold to my teaching, you are really my disciples.
Then you will know the truth and the truth will
set you free . . . everyone who sins is a slave
to sin . . . so if the Son sets you free,
you will be free indeed.”
~ John 8:31-36 (NIV)
What a liberating statement this passage makes! When Jesus sets us free from
sin, we are released from all evil. All our past mistakes. We are free to immerse ourselves in the joy and awe of a life lived for Him, and to the glory of God.
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​ To His Glory . . . BJ
See you next time . . .
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A Season Without Arms
(Revised from an article written years ago.)
6-12-2023
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“And we know that all things work together for good to them that
love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose.”
~ Romans 8:28
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Most of us have a way to restore balance to our lives . . . some special thing we can do to refresh ourselves and renew our energy. For me, writing is that thing which recharges my batteries. By the time I finish writing, typing & editing a new article or story, I am fired-up and ready to go. In those moments, I feel like I can handle anything that comes up. Needless to say, that makes sitting with a pen in my hand my favorite place to be. It is where I feel most like my true self.
Imagine how it would feel to have God take a thing like that away from you --- for many months . . .
It was May, 2015, and I had just completed an article submission for a monthly column I wrote for a friend’s web site. With a book waiting for me to complete it, and several other articles and stories to proofread and prep, there was plenty of other work for me to do. I had projects to edit for clients, and layout to organize for the book --- keeping busy would not have been a problem. So, I was totally unprepared for what happened next.
Suddenly, I found myself unable to write. It wasn’t writer’s block --- I had LOTS of ideas. It was as though I was being forbidden to write. No editing. No proofreading. No typing of completed drafts. No layout work. NOTHING. I felt trapped . . . off balance . . . completely separated from myself. It was as though I’d been
exiled --- banished from my very favorite place on Earth. The experience left me feeling extremely vulnerable.
When I took the problem to God in prayer, I told him it was as though both of my arms had been removed. Without writing, I couldn’t stay focused on anything else. I was at a total loss to know what to do with myself.
As I worked through my emotions with God, I asked Him if there was a purpose for what was happening. His response landed clearly in my mind: “I need you to FEEL.” With that, I understood: God didn’t WANT me to write.
It made perfect sense that He would choose this as a means to get my attention. When I write, I feel wonderful! No problems from the world around me can penetrate that space. Baseball players call it being "in the zone". When I'm there, I am only aware of the words, and the motion of the pen. If something came up that I needed to feel, I might miss it entirely.
Armed with this new understanding, I was willing to obey --- no matter how long it took. I still hated the feeling of being exiled . . . but I would wait for God’s guidance. As it turned out, that season of exile would last the rest of 2015, and 10 days into 2016. During those months, when my ‘arms’ were inactive, some amazing changes began happening at home.
Rich and I paid off a huge, 13-year-old debt. We got legally married, and I traveled with him on the truck for three weeks – as our honeymoon. We had lots of long talks about his driving over the road. He was getting tired of it, and wanted to back away from it a little. Nineteen years of being gone 300+ days a year had taken their toll. Later that year, when the truck and trailer would be paid off, he wanted to look at selling them and getting off the road for good.
If I had been wrapped up in my wonderful, carefree world of words, I would have missed some critical cues about Rich’s state of mind. I might not have noticed how he was struggling with these questions. I would not have been emotionally available to help him sort out his feelings. I would have been unable to help him reach the decisions he so desperately needed to make.
Looking back, I know I wouldn’t have missed those crucial decision-making months for anything in the world. I am SO glad I listened to God’s leading at that time. Those eight months without a pen in my hand brought a wondrous gift to our life together. We discovered we both were ready for Rich to come home.
When God ‘returned my arms’, I wrote prolifically. I caught up with my work quickly, and wrote a lot of new material in a short amount of time. Focus and clarity were there for me, every time I needed them. Because of that experience, I leave you with this suggestion . . .
If you’re going through a season where some activity you love has been set aside, trust God. It’s very likely He has a reason for this change . . . and it will be worth it. He will use it for good, just like He promised. While you wait, remember Psalm 46:10 . . .
“Be still, and know that I am God.”
While you're waiting, know that He will give back your arms when it is time.
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To His Glory . . . BJ
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May 13, 2023
Share What You Have Learned
“Only be careful, and watch yourselves closely so that you do not forget the things your eyes have seen or let them slip from your
heart as long as you live. Teach them to your children and to their children after them.”
~ Deuteronomy 4:9
If you really stop and think about all the things you’ve been through in life, you’ll realize that you’ve learned a lot of valuable lessons along the way. What better way to honor God’s gift of parenthood than to pass those lessons along to future generations?
There’s an old joke that says it this way: Learn from the mistakes of others. You can’t possibly live long enough to make them all yourself!
If we are “the others”, we owe it to God --- and to our children --- to honestly, humbly share the lessons learned from those mistakes and challenges. Through them, we can give our children and grandchildren a fighting chance at a better tomorrow.
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​ To His Glory . . . BJ
See you next time . . .
April 12, 2023 (Celebrating 5 years)
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(April 27th, 2020, marked the 9th anniversary of the day my older brother, James, went Home to the Lord. There were two events that happened during his last week that have added some of the warmest colors to the tapestry of our lives. I would like to share them with you . . . This story is the first; I'll share the other one next time.)
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One Last Fishing Trip
4-30-2020
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Very often, the Light of God’s enormous Love for us shines into our lives from the most unexpected sources, or at the most unexpected times. Such was the case in April, 2011, shortly before my older brother, Jim, died. Our home was filled with loved ones, gathered here to say good-bye to Jim and to support his girlfriend and me in any way they could.
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Over the years, our family has come to include many people who are not related by blood, but in our hearts. We’ve come to think of them as adopted children and grandchildren – loved every bit as much as those linked to us by birth. Once such group is Tim and Amy, their 16-year-old son Bailey, and their 13-year-old daughter, Cathy. Like many siblings, Bailey and Cathy bicker about things a lot. The week before my brother died, however, they continually reflected God’s compassion and caring toward our family. Sometimes, they did so in amazingly creative ways . . .
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One of Jim’s great passions was fishing. He loved to get out to one of the local lakes, and drift around on the water. His joy came more from being there than it did from the fishing itself. Whenever possible, he and my husband, Richard, would spend whole days out in Jim’s boat, enjoying the serenity of the lake. Toward the end of summer, 2010, Jim had promised Bailey that he’d take him fishing sometime during the summer of 2011. Bailey was looking forward to the opportunity.
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As Spring of 2011 approached, Jim’s thoughts often turned to being able to go fishing again. By early April, however, it became obvious that he wouldn’t have the strength to go. His illness had made him so weak, he rarely got out of bed. That didn’t stop him from thinking about it, though. One day, while Amy’s brother, Al, was here helping Jim clean his room, Jim mentioned his beloved boat again. “I promised Bailey I’d take him fishing this year!” he said, sadly realizing he wouldn’t be able to keep that promise.
“Oh, I think Bailey will understand, Uncle Jim,” Al reassured him. Still, he could see how much it was bothering Jim. He’d always tried to be a man of his word, and to keep his promises to people. Later, Al related Jim’s concern over the promised fishing trip to Bailey and his family. Not much was said about it at the time, but it would soon become obvious that Bailey had remembered it.
By April 20, we were awaiting the arrival of several family members from out of town. Our younger brother, Ed, and his family were coming on the 23rd; and my three sons were arriving the 24th and 25th. Jim had expressed a desire to see them all, and they’d arranged to all get time off during the same week . . . no small feat, considering 2 of the boys are in the military. While I awaited the arrival of our company, Amy’s family and Al spent a great deal of time here, helping me get ready for their visit. Al pitched in to help with Jim’s care, which was a great deal of comfort to us both.
Friday afternoon, Bailey came up to me with a big grin on his face. “Grandma! I figured out how to take Uncle Jim fishing!” he said excitedly.
Knowing the severity of Jim’s weakened condition, I was curious how Bailey proposed to pull this idea off. As I listened, he proceeded to lay out his plan. When he was finished, I told him I thought it was a wonderful idea. Cathy even got into the act, offering to help Bailey put his plan into action. He graciously accepted her offer, and they agreed to implement the plan Saturday afternoon.
When their family arrived at our house Saturday morning, Bailey was out running some errands. Tim sat down at the kitchen table and began cutting out some pictures Bailey had printed from his computer: rainbow trout, brown trout, bass, walleye, pike.......an assortment of lake fish, printed in bright, lifelike colors. While Tim worked meticulously with the scissors, Cathy sat across the table and began building “fishing poles”. She tied long, carefully-measured pieces of embroidery thread to the ends of two chopsticks. Once satisfied that they were securely fastened, she carefully tied a paper clip to the end of each length of thread. Voila! Two fishing poles – specially created for taking a bedridden man on one last fishing trip before he died.
While the rest of us sat there, admiring Cathy’s creativeness, she explained Bailey’s plan to us. “Bailey will sit on the bed with Uncle Jim – that’ll be the boat. I’ll sit on the floor with all the fish – that’ll be the lake. When they cast their lines into the “water”, I’ll clip a fish to the end of the thread, using the paper clip. Then I’ll tug on the string, so they know they got a bite!” She fairly beamed with pride and excitement as she told us how it would work. I was awe-stricken that two teenagers would willingly indulge in such a profound game of pretend with a
66-year-old man – strictly in the hope of bringing him some joy in his final days. It was, indeed, an impressive plan.
When Bailey returned in the early afternoon, Cathy proudly showed off the fishing poles she’d made. He was pleased with her efforts, and told her they’d work just fine. After he’d filled his mom in on his progress with the errands he’d run, he looked at Cathy. “Let’s go fishing!” he said happily. He asked his dad to come with them, in case Jim needed help sitting up to cast his line into the water. The rest of us waited upstairs.
A little while later, the three of them came back up to the kitchen. Bailey and Cathy were beaming. “He laughed, Grandma! He laughed!” they chimed. This simple statement was extraordinary news; Jim was so weak, he hadn’t smiled or laughed in weeks.
Cathy said she’d made sure that Uncle Jim had caught the biggest and prettiest fish. “He really had fun!” she said cheerfully. She and Bailey both seemed extremely pleased with the success of their idea. The joy on their faces lit up the kitchen, and brought all of us a special joy. It was easy to see how much fun they’d had doing this simple thing for Jim. Then Cathy got another idea, and asked me where the tape was. When I showed her, she took it downstairs. She wanted to hang Jim’s “trophies” up where he could see them from his bed.
Later that day, while I was visiting with Jim, he told me how cool his fishing trip was. He loved what the kids had done for him. Bailey and Cathy had given him a very special gift, and brought him a moment of great joy. My heart overflowed for him – and for them – for the extraordinary gift they had shared.
Bailey and Cathy had brought a moment of peace and joy into Jim’s life during a time when there was almost nothing left for him to smile about. Even more surprising was what the experience had done for their relationship. I watched for days as they spoke to each other with affection, understanding, and respect – instead of the cranky, critical tones I usually heard between them. They’d learned a precious lesson about how important it is to show people how much we care, while we still have the chance.
Five days later, when Jim died, the memory of their gift to him became an exceptional treasure for all of us. For me, it is a constant reminder of the many wondrous ways in which God expresses His Love for us. For as long as I live, I will never forget the kindness and compassion of their creative, loving gesture.
To His Glory . . . BJ
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THE BEDTIME STORY
March 14, 2023
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The summer of 1981 was, for me, a season of intense emotional highs and lows. The joy of new friendships brought much-needed bright spots to the ever-darkening tunnel of impending divorce. As the end of my eight-year marriage drew closer, alcoholism exerted an increasingly stronger pull on my husband.
By early Fall, the emotional roller coaster had taken its toll on me. Normally a person who easily expresses my feelings, I suddenly found myself in a state of emotional numbness. I felt almost nothing, and was unable to even cry --- no matter what situation arose. I know: that sounds like a good thing. But when tears are your natural tension reliever, the inability to cry becomes a crippling problem. The numbness had reached the very depths of my soul for weeks. Nothing I did could shake it loose.
The ship my husband was stationed on was in Boston for repairs. Thinking that there’d be some relief with them several hours south of us, I soon found the opposite to be true. Eric’s harassment continued, via letter or collect phone call. On one particular day, my oldest son was not yet home from kindergarten when the mail came. One
of Eric’s hateful letters arrived shortly before Tony got home. When he came in, he found me sitting on the couch, staring blankly into space. Seeing the letter in my hand, he asked if it was from his daddy. I told him it was.
After a moment or two of silence, he spoke – expressing wisdom and understanding beyond his five years, “Daddy’s letter really upset you, huh, Mommy?”
“Yeah, boo, it did.”
Deciding a back rub would help, he climbed up behind me on the couch and began rubbing my back. After a few minutes, he had another idea. Smiling brightly, he declared, “I know! You need a nap!”
His baby brother would be asleep for a while yet, so I decided to try Tony’s suggestion. I was pretty sure I wouldn’t actually get any sleep, but I thought the rest might do me some good. So, I went to my room and laid down on the bed.
Tony went to the kitchen and wrestled one of the chairs into my room. After setting it near the bed, he went to grab his favorite story book. Looking very pleased with himself, he climbed into the chair and, once settled, he opened the book.
“Close your eyes, Mommy. Just relax and listen.”
Unable to actually read yet, Tony had heard this particular story countless times. Because of that, he began to flawlessly recite the words on each page of the little book. As he did, an unexpected thing began to happen to me . . .
Quiet tears of relief began to roll down my face, landing softly on the pillow below my right cheek. The extreme tension of the previous month slowly began to fade away. By the time Tony finished the story, I was nearly asleep. As he closed the book, he said, “The end!”
Sliding down from the chair, he reached over and gently kissed my cheek. “Sleep well, Mommy. I’ll watch Mikey.” With that, he slipped quietly out of my room and closed the door. I did, indeed, sleep --- for nearly two hours! When I awoke and left my room, I found the two boys sitting on the couch, watching TV. They hadn’t made a sound while I slept. I smiled at the sight of them, amazed at the maturity of their behavior.
My young son had demonstrated a wisdom far beyond his chronological age. In his innocent mind, a nap and a bedtime story were all that I needed to help me feel better. The most amazing part? It turned out that he was absolutely right! I felt more like myself than I had in weeks!
To this day, that bedtime story is one of my strongest --- and favorite --- memories from that stressful summer so very long ago. Whenever my now-40-something son smiles at me a certain way, I see that little boy, “reading” his Mommy a bedtime story. All these years later, it still makes me feel better when I’m having a bad day.​
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To His Glory . . . BJ
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February 13, 2023
God's Legacy of Love
“Husbands, love your wives, even as Christ also loved the church, and gave himself for it; That he might sanctify and cleanse it with the washing of water by the word, That he might present it to himself a glorious church, not having spot, or wrinkle, or any such thing; but that it should be holy and without blemish. So ought men to love their wives as their own bodies. He that loveth his wife loveth himself.”
~ Ephesians 5:25-28
In this day and age, it is SO easy to forget what God expects of us with regard to loving our spouses. Men are bombarded by the world’s idea of what constitutes a “good man” or a “strong, manly man” . . . but this passage offers a clear guide for the way men are supposed to love their wives . . .
Ladies, don’t think for one minute that I’m letting you off the hook here! God has
a few things to say to us, too. For starters:
“Wives, submit yourselves unto your own husbands, as unto the
Lord . . . as the church is subject unto Christ, so let the wives be
to their own husbands in every thing.”
~ Ephesians 5:22-24
God’s intention here is NOT that we are to be bullied or bossed-around by our husbands. Rather, the husband is expected to be the spiritual leader of his
home . . . to guide his family in the proper way to follow God. The wife is to
follow that spiritual leadership, so that both may draw ever closer to God as
they walk through life together.
You can find much more about God’s design for women in Scripture: Genesis, chapter 2, describes the moment God decided to create woman, and offers the
first mention of her role/purpose (“help meet”; “bone of my bones, and flesh of
my flesh”) --- even why she is called “Woman”. In addition, Proverbs, chapter 31, offers much insight into the role woman is to play in her home.
​ To His Glory . . . BJ
See you next time . . .
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MY FIRST THANKSGIVING DINNER
January 16, 2023
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When I was growing up, our family always had Thanksgiving at my sister’s, and her husband always cooked the turkey. Consequently, when I was first married, I was 19 and had never even helped cook that particular meal before. Since we were living 3200 miles from home that first year, I didn’t have mom and my sister nearby to help. Preparing Thanksgiving dinner that year was going to be entirely up to me. I was apprehensive, to say the least.
In addition, we had made a decision that added to my insecurity. Some of the young men stationed on the base were also living far from home, and couldn’t get there for the holiday. So, my husband and I invited them to share our meal so that they wouldn’t be alone. Of course, that meant I needed to come up with a tasty, edible meal!
Having no clue what I was doing, I watched the grocery store aisles for helpful ideas. I made some wonderful discoveries! First, there was the turkey with a pop-up timer . . . it could tell me when it was done! Cool! Then, as I was looking for aluminum foil, I found another treasure. A bag in which you could roast a turkey. The package assured me it was oven-safe, and would help keep my turkey moist and juicy. No basting or fussing required. Bonus!
Armed with my newly-discovered treasures, I made sure I had whatever else I would need to make pies and round out the meal. Later, as my meal was cooking, on Thanksgiving Day, I worked on preparing our apartment for dinner company.
We had ample space, due to the large, L-shaped living/dining area. However, we did not own a kitchen or dining table of any kind. Our only table was the coffee table, and our only seating was a couch and an easy chair. I stood in the middle of the room, puzzling over a solution, when inspiration struck.
Smiling at the stroke of ingenuity, I headed to the hall closet. Once I grabbed the ironing board, I took it to the dining room. Next, I grabbed a white tablecloth from the linen closet, and some straight pins from my sewing kit. Setting up the ironing board, I covered it with the tablecloth, and pinned the excess fabric to the underside.
This would serve as a sort of buffet table when dinner was ready. I could set the food out there, and each of us could fix our own plate at mealtime. Since we had no table & chairs, we sat on the floor around the coffee table to eat. Nothing was as good as I remembered from growing up, but I had made it myself, and that filled me with a sense of pride.
It felt good to share our humble accommodations, and our holiday meal, with others who were away from home that Thanksgiving. All these years later, I still think of that first Thanksgiving dinner often. That simple meal, served in its makeshift manner, is still one of my favorite Thanksgiving memories.
Perhaps that’s because it reminds me that God always provides . . . and that there is joy to be found in the simplest of gifts.
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To His Glory . . . BJ
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