Uplifted in a Broken Down World

     Man is made in the image and likeness of God.  (Genesis 1:26-27)   In faith, we believe this; but have we ever sketched a feasible three dimensional portrait of this manifestation?   Let’s.

     Perhaps man in the image of God is a being intelligent enough to measure right and wrong not solely in black and white but “soul”y with Biblical knowledge, wisdom and love.

     Perhaps man in the image of God is blind to the worldly materialistic “I” and witnesses with eyes founded in heaven and grounded in family.   Maybe this man’s most treasured memories would be the celebration of marriage or the jubilant commemoration of an anniversary.   Perhaps man in God’s image might be a daddy/mommy to a small number of daughters and sons but a parent figure to many children of God.

     Perhaps man in the image of God would be so honest as to say what is felt yet never hold a grudge.   In thought, word and deed, this man would not only be forgiving but also able to turn the page.

     Perhaps man in the image of God would hold fast to small inner roots, not needing the glare of big worldly accomplishments to illuminate the way to everlasting happiness.

     Perhaps man in the image of God would teach by example as well as voice.   An early chapter in this man’s creed of sharing and caring might begin by being the personification of upright character and down to earth values.

     But what, we may ask, about man in the likeness of God?   Ever wonder why it is likeness not loveness?   As Christians we must love, but to like is an option.  Thus, in likeness of God shouldn’t man be a creation who would choose, not be compelled, to admire and mirror God?   Somehow the likeness of God seems difficult to depict.  Maybe not.

     Perhaps man in the likeness of God would willingly, on both the good and bad days, wear a heart filled smile.   The corners of this smile, and heart, would be composed of a spirit that makes all feel happier, hardier and holier.  

     Perhaps man in the likeness of God would gladly not belong to the 21^st Century majority who are drowning in pessimism but rather be that one in a million who joyfully lives and spreads the Good News.  

     Perhaps man in the likeness of God might, in calendar years, be either a young ‘un or one reaching retirement; but, in reality, never seem infantile and immature or old and in need of hibernation.  Regardless of age, this man is, and always will be, a child – a child of God.  

     We’ve talked in terms of “perhaps” these past paragraphs.   So let it be for one final thought.  

     Perhaps man in both the image and likeness of God might not only belong to a Community of God but also be longing to share, beyond this congregation, the hope of heaven with all friends and strangers travelling through the despair of earth.  

     None of mankind can look in a mirror and physically reflect the image and likeness of God.   However, every single member of mankind was created to reflect the heart of God.   Perhaps man in the image and likeness of God emulates not who one is but WHOSE one is. 

  Her name, I do not know.   Her purpose, I do not doubt.   She was an Angel, my sign from heaven.   Even when our lives are drenched in the aftermath of loss (be it a yearly anniversary of Hubby going home to heaven or the recent loss of Hubby’s four legged pup), heaven’s comforting assurances surround us, if only we recognize them.   As I’ve declared before, and still holdfast, I believe life is filled with thousands of co-incidences and millions of God incidences.   Angel was a God incidence.    

     The morning’s schedule was tight.   My today was a pressure cooker of chores versus time to get them done.   My tomorrow was the heartache of Hubby’s heavenly arrival tallying up another year.   Having just, four day ago, endured Corkie Doodle leaving earth to join Hubby in heaven, my eyes were still swollen; but my sight was fixed on celebrating their eternal victory.   Amidst the cleaners drop off, an ordered item pick up, and retrieving Granddaddy from cardio rehab, I chased into the Dollar Store.   As Hubby’s heavenly birthdays added an additional year, I marked each one with a balloon.  This time I’d add a second one for Corkie Doodle.  

     The sweet Dollar Store clerk assured me I’d grabbed the two best balloons the store had to offer.   Just minutes before, she had blown them up anticipating tomorrow’s New Year’s Eve party rush.   “Are yours for a turn of the year celebration,” she inquired.   My answer, “Not quite.   I’m commemorating a New Year’s Eve that goes backward to the past instead of looking forward to the future.”

     Racing to the cashier, I noticed a cart from the opposite direction also heading to the checkout line.   Stopping to let the lady pushing the cart into line, I heard her soft spoken voice say, “thank you, but you go ahead”.   I did, and added Granddaddy would appreciate her helping me be on time to pick him up.   The cashier kindly took the two balloons from my grip and rung them up as I pulled money from my wallet.  Again, I heard that same considerate voice.  This time the cashier was being told not to accept my money as she was paying for my balloons with her order.   The cashier was just to keep the checkout rolling into her items.  

     Certainly, I had misheard.   Realizing my confusion, this Angel, looking squarely into my eyes, and heart, declared she wanted to buy my balloons as life is meant for us all to look out for, and take care of, each other and their needs.   Tears now flowing freely down my cheeks, I shared the meaning behind the balloons.   With a big hug, I thanked her for being my Angel.   Meekly, she uttered, “Just trying to live as God created us all to live”.

     To live as God created us all to live – why is this so unnatural for us, even us Christians???   Indeed, my Angel did more than pay for my balloons.   She reminded me of the value of what money can’t buy — caring about, and for, ALL God’s children, not just the ones we can call by name.   Sometimes, doing this requires our time.  On other occasions, it necessitates our stepping out of our comfort zone.   Always, it calls us to open our hearts and remember Christ’s words, “Truly I tell you, whatever you did for the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for Me.” (Matthew 25:40)

     With the decision to start this blog, I pledged to myself, and God, that my pencil would be dedicated to helping others deepen their faith and hope in God, believe in their God given, and driven, individual purpose in life, and try to help heal their worldly scars with the balm of God’s promises.   I also vowed that I’d let God, by what He inspired or let happen in my life, determine the thoughts I would share.  Some messages are easy to write as they flow from the joy-filled, beautiful side of life.  Others pour forth from tears of heartbreak and are written with blurry eyes but limpid vision of God’s assurances.  

     Thirteen years ago, we expanded our four legged family membership and presented Hubby with Corkie Doodle Carr.   From the moment Doodle Boy bounced into the family, everyone knew he was an original and one impossible of duplicating.  His hair was straight.  He was totally claustrophobic.   After he pawed his way through the bottom of his crate, we knew he was not to be boxed in by any of life’s constraints.   Though every morning he begged to get into the car with Boss Man and ride down the mountain to fetch the newspaper, the mailbox was as far as his bravery lasted.   Go an inch beyond the mailbox post and the car began being flooded with drool and rocked by his shaking.   Chasing his pop squeak was life at its best.   Nothing topped it.   Seriously, Boss Man could have a freshly grilled steak in one hand and his pop squeak in the other, and for Corkie Doodle the choice was emphatically the pop squeak.   Each and every time he’d feed his passion before his belly.   In his post eye surgery days, while mandatorily wearing the “cone of shame”, we were astounded to find him standing stuck in a corner of the room.   Walking into the wall was an accident he failed to realize could be corrected by simply backing up.  To this day, we laugh wondering how long he had been standing there waiting for our rescue.   Maybe Corkie Doodle wasn’t the brightest crayon in the box, but his heart was the biggest and sweetest one ever created.  

     Doodle Boy believed he had a job.  While hubby was on earth, it was to stand behind his Boss Man and carry out his asks.   When Hubby went home to heaven, the pecking order changed.  Corkie Doodle believed his job was now to assume the alpha role and protect our family left behind.   His loving heart and untiring desire to please were his chosen means to carry out his job.   For all our family, Doodle Boy held the meaning and honor of being our last physical bond on earth with Hubby.

     This Holyday Season turned so bittersweet when, like his Boss Man, Corkie Doodle went home to heaven amidst the Christmas celebrations.   So with tears, not happy hearted words, I share this message.   My being is not alone in loss this Holyday Season.   In fact, the ranks of hearts enduring heartbreak is overwhelming.   To each and every one of you, I stand, once more, not in front as a leader but beside you as a sister. 

     Our souls know our loved ones, be they two or four legged, are in heaven resurrected.   However, our hearts are broken and long to still hold on.   Loss of worldly life leaves a huge hole in our hearts.   We so deeply long for these holes to be filled up.   May I offer a different perspective, one from my own huge hole of loss.     The choice is not mine to be able to fill either the hole of Hubby’s or Doodle Boy’s worldly death.   Though this is impossible, it is in my power (with God’s strength and grace) to let go of my “filled full” want and cling to God’s now “Full Filled” promise.   When, more than at Christmas, should we hold fast to the words of John 3:16.   “For God so loved the world that He gave His one and only Son that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life.”  

     My ability to hold onto steadfast faith and hope comes from signs – signs, I believe, sent straight from God in heaven.   As our family drove away from the veterinary hospital without Corkie Doodle, the radio was echoing the song “Scars” by I Am They.   How clearly I heard God’s assurance that it is from our worldly scars that we know His heart and the way to everlasting victory.  Corkie Doodle had not lost, but won, his race.

     The morning after losing Corkie Doodle, I forced myself to go unlock my mailbox and empty it before the day’s new arrivals.  There sat an unexpected box from our family’s most cherished middle school teacher.   Instantly, I wondered if whatever was inside was from the heart of Mrs. VanderSlice and, also, the hand of God.  It was. 

     Paperwhites, one of Hubby’s favorites, filled the shipping box!!   Oh, the memory of him out in the dark garage getting his paperwhites ready to grow, then ready to blossom in the sunroom, and finally putting them out of our sight till their time to bloom again.   And, bloom again and again Hubby’s paperwhites always did.   So also can, and must, our hearts bloom again after letting go of those we love.   But to bloom again, our hearts, just like paperwhites, need to be tended.  Though our roots seem buried in dormancy, and we feel isolated in darkness, our life on earth still has God’s future purpose.  To flower into our purpose, we need to place ourselves in SONshine and let ourselves be open to, and blossom into, Christ’s light, comfort and love.

     Sometimes, I think the hardest credential for being a Christian is reflecting the belief of life after death when God has opened this gate to our loved one.   As bitter a pill it is to swallow, if we are to believe in the Resurrection, we need to accept worldly death.   Additionally, we don’t really believe in Resurrection, if we feel death is an ending.     

The world, when life on earth ends, says “Rest in peace”; but not Grammy.   Grammy’s soul cries out, “Doodle Boy, no longer must you rest.   Run, Corkie Doodle.   Run.   Run fast.   Run free.   Run hard to Boss Man.  Tell him he has eight earth time years of pop squeak playing to catch up on!!!  Your job with Grammy is done, and no pup could have done it better.   Your love forever flows through my heart and my love forever through yours.  No need to worry any longer about me.   Grammy’s working through the tears and holding onto the rainbow. Your pain is gone. So, run free, Corkie Doodle. Run free!!!”

     This time of year our ears, whatever they tune into, are bombarded with strains of good cheer.   However, what we hear is not always to what our hearts truly listen.   The world echoes the illusionary chorus that all dwell in being merry, bright and receiving gifts a plenty.   Commercially fooled into thinking absolutely everyone, but themselves, dwells in complete bliss, many succumb to the perceived reality that only they are finding life filled with coal.  

     The glitter of “everything’s perfect”, which surrounds our December existence, is a decoration of an external season and not always the seasoning of our internal selves.   The discrepancy between what the world shouts and what our hearts cry out could help explain why sadness, let down with personal status quo and depression run rapid this time of year.  True self-esteem and appreciation for our many blessings (ie, not only for all we have, but also for all we have not) somehow disappear.   This doesn’t have to be.   What we need to do is realize there are two Christmas stories, and one must out rank the other.   Santa says we all can live happily ever “here”.   The Nativity proclaims ours is the gift of living happily ever “after”.

    Materialism pushes fairytale Santa and your list of wants sparkly wrapped under your Christmas tree.   The Nativity pulls us back to the gift of salvation, swaddled in a drab blanket and placed within a lowly manger.   Santa makes us presently happy and owners of many new objects.   The Nativity makes us forever grateful and in possession of the one and only greatest gift of all – eternal salvation via a newborn Babe.

    Keeping up with the revelry of Santa is good fun but exhausting.   Often, it ends up revealing how our true-to-life, 365 days a year, existence falls short of the few seasonal weeks of party celebration.  Our daily lives, beyond the December calendar, are anything but “God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen.   Let Nothing You Dismay”.

    Stopping to rest in the peaceful reminiscence of Christ’s serene birth is revitalizing and often re-energizes our revelation of the Christmas gift God’s love offers each of us.   Twelve months a year, our lives have everything we need “For Jesus Christ, Our Savior, Was Born On Christmas Day”.

     If we look at our families, friends and selves through Santa’s eye, the tally is either naughty or nice.   With “nice” implying worthy of all we want, who can, honestly, claim this merit; but Santa’s list and sack suggest it’s in our power.   If we see our families, friends and selves through the Nativity’s eye, we recognize all of us are imperfect humans, who have received God’s greatest gift because we are incapable of giving it to ourselves or others.

     Before I sound like Ebenezer Scrooge, or get misconstrued, let me clearly say, we all need some of Santa’s merriment and carefree celebration.   However, we also need to scale back Santa’s bright, blinding lights and be led forward by the heavenly Christmas star.  The negative happens when Santa’s bling solely abounds, and we begin to believe it is our soul’s measuring rod for what our lives (day in/day out) should equal.   Trying to measure up to what Santa bequeaths our happiness should be is unrealistic, to say the least, and depressingly out of reach for all of us.   Trying to measure up to what God decrees our lives can be is hard but, with His grace, attainable.

     As Christmas morn draws near, I wish you all Santa’s jolly gaiety and longed for gifts beneath your tree.   As Christmas night comes upon you, may you rest in the gift of waking each and every tomorrow knowing because Christ was born that long ago Nativity, your life is filled with “Tidings of Comfort and Joy”.

     ‘Tis the season when all are jolly, or is it?   Fairy tale says Santa is coming to town.   However, many feel anything but jolly and that Santa, definitely, is not coming via their chimney or any other entrance to their domain.   Down on luck and life in general, sadness fills their mantle stockings.

     So, are downtrodden human beings anomalies to the Christmas season or central characters in the original Christmas story.   I debate the latter.

     I write this post not for the season’s ho, ho, ho spirited readers but from my soul to those whose hearts are crying woe, woe, woe.  Journey back with me to the beginning.   Christmas did not originate with a fast flying sleigh, a stuffed-full bag or a magical Santa.   It arrived by way of a slow moving donkey, an empty manger, and God’s miraculous infant birth.  

     The story of Christmas often centers on Jesus being born, the shepherds and the wise men.   Little, if any, focus is placed on Joseph and Mary.   Maybe, herein lies a message so needed for 21^st Century struggling human beings.  

   Joseph – Have you ever wondered what he thought and felt that first Christmas season?   From the heavenly aspect, he knew the honor given him when chosen to be the Christ Child’s earthly father.   None the less, what about his human, manly, feelings?   The best he could give the Divine Son entrusted him was a stable shared with lowly animals.   His child’s Godly hands would feed multitudes, but Joseph’s human hands could only rest his heavenly King in a food trough for the livestock.   Not even that much could Joseph offer his wife.   Straw upon the mud floor was all he could provide.   Maybe, Joseph even hung his head and despaired over trudging his wife and Son across the barren land just so they could be counted; and he doubted, if they, his loved ones, could count on him.

     Mary —  Most likely, she was jubilant God’s son was born from her, yet also, bearing fear and guilt for all Joseph was enduring.   Though God’s chosen one to parent His Son, was she afraid she had, or would, fail her earthly family?   Did she struggle with the gossip surrounding her carrying this Child?   Was she doubting she could be the mother her Son of God would need?

     Both Joseph and Mary, being human, probably felt alone and very much afraid.   Did they struggle  over being so far away from home and family?   It was a silent night, when maybe they longed for the harmony of encouraging voices singing strains of love and reassurance.   Sound familiar???

     To any, and all, in anguish this Holyday season, please, open your minds, hearts and souls to this often overlooked proof of each and every one of our worth, purpose and belonging to God’s family.   God would never have entrusted His Son to anyone but the best of human parents.   God could have made Joseph and Mary perfect.   He chose not to.   Instead, God guided them through each shortcoming, tribulation and perceived failure they experienced.  If God did not expect, or demand, Joseph and Mary to be perfect, neither does He hold us to this impossible standard.   What God does do is stand with Joseph, Mary and each of us in every dark moment we encounter – even if the darkness is the result of our own doing.   Humans might desert.   God does not.   In our greatest loneliness, we are not alone.   God stands behind us with His hands bracing us.   God, also, stands before us.   His arms are open wide, ready to embrace us if only we choose to fall into them. 

     To any, and all, who hurt this Holyday season, I share one additional truth.   While Santa can’t bring you what you want, God will give you what you need – inner peace, self-esteem, forgiveness if necessary, and hope. 

     Now, to all my spirited ho, ho, ho readers, I mean my words when I proclaim I’m not the leader.   We all stand side by side on our UPLIFTED IN A BROKEN DOWN WORLD journey.   Thus, in fellowship we have a challenge to achieve.   We are surrounded by family, friends and even strangers who need to know someone (or maybe just anyone) cares and prays for them.   Every one of us can be that someone.   A kind word, an understanding nod, an encouraging hug, a silent plea to God on their behalf – all have the power to help penetrate another’s darkness.

     May we all remember that just as God, centuries ago, placed the first Christmas star to light a pitch black world, His light still stands.  No matter our joy or despair, the gift of God’s light and love is ours to accept.  

     God bless, guard and guide us all.

     A daddy once took his child by the hand and said, “Let me show you how to journey to a destination I hope you will know how to find, all by yourself, when you are big and tall.”   

     “Should we pack a suitcase?” asked the little one.

     “Not needed”, said the daddy, “for it’s not what you carry in your hands, but in your heart, that dresses you for the special place we’ll visit.”

     “But Daddy,” questioned the little one, “is there time for us to travel anywhere before your smart phone makes us stop?”

     “No problem, my child,” replied the daddy, “where I’m taking you, time is not subject to outside interruptions.”

     “Where are we headed, Daddy, huh!!!”  quizzed the child, “North, South, East or West???”

     “None of the mentioned,” stated the wise parent.

     “Come on, Daddy; if we don’t go in any direction, we don’t go anywhere at all,” retorted the child.

     “On the contrary,” interjected the daddy, “we are going to travel the most important direction of all – the direction ‘within’ that enables us to ‘reach out’.  You see, my child, our destination is the journey of learning to help others.   As a child you must learn the way to travel ‘within’ your heart and soul so that when you are grown, you will know the way to ‘reach out’ and share your time, talent and treasure.”

     Strange isn’t it?   We take such great care to teach our children the way to school, home, a friend’s house, the basketball court, or swimming pool; but we often are too busy to teach our children the way to giving of themselves to help another’s need.   How easy we overlook that charity begins at home, and the way to share the lessons born at home should begin as a child.  

     Is the fraction of a small allowance a child learns to share, a tiny portion of an hour a child extends his helping hand, or a little one’s own conceived expression of caring and sharing, insignificant or magnificent???

   Exploring the way to the stars can wait till children turn adults; but navigating the way to bring the heavens down to earth can’t.   The journey of learning to help others is best begun in childhood. 

Thank you daddies, everywhere, whose love and wisdom cares enough to share.

     Thirty-five years ago today was one of the most blessed and cherished days of my life.   From start to finish, I remember each moment with my heart still overflowing with love, gratitude and the vow to never take for granted the gift of this dream come true.   No, this post is not about me personally glancing back in nostalgia.  Rather, it finds me facing forward with both hope and concern.    

     My words are penciled not with criticism.   They reflect only a longing to wake us all to what our hearts so essentially need to cling to for lasting happiness; but our fingertips, too often, let slip away.

     My heart rejoices when it witnesses deeply giving and thriving love between a husband and wife.   My heart is pained when it perceives so many marriages, over the passage of time, letting love diminish to a tally card marking wrongs, not rights.   Forgotten is the newlywed proclamation: “You might not be perfect, but you are perfect for me”.   My heart is shattered when it watches a couple throw away what many treasured and had, unwantedly, snatched away.

     If only we all lived under the wisdom of not holding our loved one to standards we want let go of for ourselves.   Maybe then, our land would abound with couples, everywhere, understanding that on earth our dreams come true in a flawed world of flawed people.   Though holding onto “our wedding dream come true” is gripped with challenge and so easy to let slip away, it is the lasting way to love our spouse till death do us part – and even beyond.

     This reflection comes with a wish.   Let your better half’s imperfections be a window you look through and what is perfect about them a mirror that constantly reflects your ever growing love for each other.    

From me on imperfect earth, to you in perfect heaven – Happy Anniversary, Hubby!!!

     The world is shouting celebrate and party; but so many souls are crying, hurt, lost and all alone. The Bible’s book of Job is more than a story about a good man who experienced underserved loss and suffering.   It is a picture of God’s reminder that He not only was present always, His presence formed all things, controls all things and loves all things.   Being past, present and future, God knows all things.   Our situations are never foreign to, nor hidden from, our Father in heaven.  He cares, and He cares deeply about each and every one of us.  

     Caught in the snares of life’s challenges, we are not, on our own, powerful enough to push ourselves out of our tribulations’ ruts or to pull ourselves up from defeatism’s quicksand.   Only God can do this, and God stands ready and waiting to do so.   All He asks of us is to throw ourselves, in any condition at all, into His comforting hands.   We must make this life saving leap knowing God, most likely, will not give the answers to our problems but the answer to our happiness.   We must choose to continue living for the calling of our dreams rather than to die from the screaming of our nightmares.   This is not easy.   It is downright nearly impossible.   However, living with future hope in our heart, as an example of Christian belief, is the way to get beyond the hell of worldly battles.  God waits to carry us into tomorrow’s promises.  We just need to ride out our storms in the boat of His cupped hand.  This is the vision I saw.

     My cherished family and I were in the midst of one of our greatest storms.   I discerned the vision of God’s hand holding our near broken bodies.   God’s hand was cupped so as to form a boat.   We were being flung from side to side; but God’s hand would simply move ever so gently to keep us from being tossed into the undertow and currents just waiting to devour us.   Yes, we were being bruised and slammed up and down; but we were safe inside the boated hand of God.   Then, I envisioned God’s hand lifting up from the turbulent water.   The storms were so far beneath us now.   God so lovingly and supportively then straightened His hand; and suddenly, God’s hand had become a launching pad.   Gently, God’s breath gave wind, and wing; and we each took flight, soaring to our individual God chosen destinations and purposes.

     God’s cupped hand is not meant for only my family.   It waits for you and yours, too.    I pray you trust and believe enough to leap aboard.   “See I will not forget you.  I have carved you on the palm of My hand.”  (Isaiah 49:15) 

The Christmas Season has begun.   Yesterday, Black Friday, we shopped.   Santa is coming!!!  Tomorrow, the First Sunday of Advent, churches of all denominations prepare.   Emmanuel is coming!!!

     A dilemma remains.   Is this solely a holiday season or “soul”y a Holyday season???

     Holiday versus Holyday — what distinguishes the choice?   The answer is found by examining the center — both the center of each word and the center of our hearts.

     Holiday — its center is “I”.

     Holyday — its center is “Y”.

No other difference distinguishes the two.   However, this slight outer variance hugely determines the vast, essence defining disparity between the two.  

     “I” centers in the declaration of worldly me as the center of the season. 

     “Y” centers in the explanation of Heaven’s originating whY, or reason, for the season.

     “I” — endless strings of blinking lights spotlighting gatherings centered in the giving and celebrating of the material.       

     “Y” — one solo star pointing the way to a new born Baby, so poor He was birthed in a lonely stable; yet, so inheritably giving that His coming bestowed on us the greatest gifts of all – forgiveness and salvation.

     Are “I” and “Y” meant to exclude the other?   Don’t think so.   Think heaven rings with joy as Santa shares his bag and people come together to celebrate as family.   Nevertheless, think heaven cries tender, grateful tears when both the young and old unwrap, and center in, the true meaning of the CHRISTmas celebration.

     In each of our lives, does the meaning between “I” and “Y” have and “equal” or a “greater than” sign between each other?   Herein, lies the defining meaning of our CHRISTmas Season.   If we choose an “equal” sign, not just our spelling, but also, our focus is holiday.   If we choose to place the Child in the manger on the wide-open side of the “greater than” sign, then both our spelling and our inner core is holyday.

     Malls around the world ring out with strains of “Here comes Santa Claus”.   Churches around the universe cry out with choruses of “O come, O Come, Emmanuel”.   One’s center is “I”.   The other’s center is “Y”.   Where you place your center determines holiday or holyday as both the spelling and meaning of this celebration in your life. 

     God bless, guard and guide us all.

     As a hope-filled “look out world, here I come” twenty-something year old, I began my Thanksgiving tradition.   Determined to share real Holyday meaning, before commercialism could penetrate the season, an inspiring message and symbolic ornament became my Thanksgiving gift to those who touched my life with love, encouragement, wisdom and challenge.   Throughout the almost half century of my tradition, I have realized the most priceless gift is not what I offer but what each and every heart and soul on my Thanksgiving List has given me.

     This Thanksgiving morn, I start a new journey; but I step out not alone.   Actually, I open this door accompanied by great testimony and tribute to those on my Thanksgiving List.   I feel so selfish to solely keep holding onto all the inspiration, guidance and loving loyalty they are to me when the whole wide world desperately needs the “soul treasures” their beings personify.

     Thus, my blog, Uplifted in a Broken Down World, is born to introduce any, and all, who need hope to where it can be found.  For you see, I do believe the lessons of caring hearts and upright character overflowing from my Thanksgiving List have the power needed to change our wayward world’s course, pass through the storms and drop anchor in a hope-filled port.

     Not the momentary famous or infamous will be highlighted in my scrapbook blog.   On the contrary, the pages will spotlight the lasting power and inspiration the down to earth stars on my Thanksgiving List have enabled me to see and believe — or on occasion, to believe and then see.

     To each and every name on my Thanksgiving List, feel my gratitude and love.   So many of you, I no longer see in person; but your place is engraved forever in my heart.   I have not, nor will I ever, forget all you planted in my life and cared enough to help keep alive when hard challenges were fought.   My prayer today, and always, is that you, each and every one, believe in your God-created self and your God given goodness, strength and purpose as deeply as you helped instill mine in me.

     And to any newcomer who wishes to join my blog, Welcome!!!   Please know I do not claim the role of leader.   This is a side by side stroll down an uncharted path whose route is not a temporary stop over but the enduring destination of being Uplifted in a Broken Down World.  

     God bless, guard and guide us all…