Tell Me a True Story Blog Hop - Week 06/29/15

Writing a True Story

You are invited to enter YOUR True Story at our Blog Party. 

My goal is to read and comment on EVERY entry!

Have you tried reading and commenting on a few posts near you?

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Wait until I get you Home !!

A True Story from my book Rescue the Stories # One

 

Through out life there are lessons to learn and some of those learning experiences come at a very young age.  

I couldn’t have been more than four years old.  My mother and the three of us children went to visit some neighbors.  They did not live very far away so a nice stroll took us there.  

What seemed like a very LONG time, I became very tired and bored!  The ladies were enjoying their tea and talking, but I wanted to leave and go home. 

First I saddled up close to my mother sitting at her feet and I thought she might catch on.  This did not work, and she was ignoring me to say the least. 

Then I tried another tactic, I began to call her name, mama, mama, but she would not give me the time of day.  She completely disregarded me !!! 

In desperation, to get her to notice me, I reached up and slapped her face a nice sort of smack - Whack. 

Guess what?  That got her attention right away and she looked down at me and made a statement that only a mother can make. 

“Wait until I get you home!” 

Now all of a sudden, I became patient and could wait with all the time we needed for us to leave. 

We had walked to our visit destination, so marching home would get us there again. 

I tried to change the air by talking about things as we ambled along.  I was hoping that my chatter would cause my mother to forget what I knew was waiting for me when we arrived at home. 

One thing my mother never forgot was:  A promise was a promise, good or bad, and sure enough she reminded me of the “WHY” this punishment was being applied. 

“Never hit or strike your parents!  NO matter what!  This is unacceptable behavior!!” 

This was one lesson that I quickly learned and it was never repeated. 

The Bible instructs us to obey our parents, and this also applies to our Heavenly Father. 

In life, there are some things we need to review.  If we could only remember the WHY and why NOT, all would be much simpler.

~ ~~

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Tell Me A True Story - Week 06/22/15

 

Reading a True Story

You are invited to enter YOUR True Story at our Blog Party. 

My goal is to read and comment on EVERY entry!

Have you tried reading and commenting on a few posts near you?

My other blog is:  A Joyful Noise Please follow by e-mail.

View the notice On The "Blue Back Ground Above" How  

To find Other Blog Hop Suggestions that request "Anything goes."

~ ~ ~  

A True Story From my Book "Rescue the Stories Book One"

 

With no stroller, or baby buggy, my mother often carried my baby sister, while my 18 month old brother held my hand as we walked to our corner store for a few small items.

One day, the baby was asleep and my mother needed a loaf of bread.  She explained to me how I should walk to the store, ask for a loaf of brown bread and quickly return home.

Taking the dime from her, I felt proud of the responsibility given to me to purchase some bread.  So what if I was only three years old!  I was the oldest child, and a big girl.

At the store, I gave the man my order and held out my ten cents.  “You have two pennies change coming back, so would you like to select some penny candy,” he asked me.

He stood in back of the candy display and my little eyes widened.  The candy sticks looked good and so did the suckers.  It was difficult to decide which would be the best choice.   Taking a long time to make up my mind, he offered some suggestions.

Hurrying home with my loaf of bread and my small sack with the precious candy, I happily showed mother my purchases.

Undaunted she did not hesitate, because those two pennies were needed for other things, and certainly not for candy. 

Quietly she asked me, “Just exactly what did I send you to the store to buy?”  I replied, “A loaf of bread.”  Her words rang out soft but clear, “And did I tell you to purchase anything else?”  By now I was crying, but she wiped away my tears and told me. “We need to correct this so that it will never happen again.”

Rehearsing what I was supposed to tell the store man, I returned to the store holding my small bag of penny candy.  Fortunately I had not eaten any of my tempting stash.

As I handed him the sack of candy, through tears I told the store man, “My mama said, I was only supposed to buy the bread, so please give me my money back.”

He did return my two cents and again I was proud to return home – mission accomplished.

A couple of years later our circumstances changed and there were times when we could afford the luxury of some penny candy.

However I am thankful for mother teaching me this life’s lesson; how to stand up for myself and ask for the correct change, or return an item that is not right. 

It is good to stand firm and not be a push over - - even if it is for penny candy.

~ ~~

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An InLinkz Link-up

True Story Blog Party Week of 06/15/15

A Mother Reads A True Story

You are invited to enter YOUR True Story at our Blog Party. 

My goal is to read and comment on EVERY entry!

Have you tried reading and commenting on a few posts near you?

 

My other blog is:  A Joyful Noise Please follow by e-mail.  

View the notice On The "Blue Back Ground Above" How  

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May we all Produce Much Good Fruit

Give it Another Year!

The Lord pulled me to the parable from Luke 13: 6-9.  This scripture portion is about Jesus telling the story of the tree and the farmer who asked his workers to cut it down because it was not producing fruit.  His gardener requested, “Please give the tree another year.  I’ll dig around it, fertilize it, and maybe it will produce next year; if it doesn't, then chop it down.”

During this past year, I have followed and read after several well known bloggers.  Some have written books, newspaper columns, and devotionals that knock your socks off.  Yet underlying I have also noticed at times a hint of fear, thinking they are not good enough, and genuine doubt that they are even making a difference.  This might include all of us!!

Perhaps at times we all feel discouraged, and we wonder if we are like that tree that is being given another chance to revive, to pick up and begin again to reach out in our ministry with faith and fervor.  Might I be so bold to say, to come alive with a renewed Spirit Filled Anointing that will actually make a difference in the lives we touch.

May we continually be reminded that each of us is unique?  We are all different with our varied writing and ministry skills, but that is what causes each of us to be distinct and only one of a kind special in God’s eyes.

The Bible story of this tree does not tell us what happened at the end of the year, but I can only surmise that at the finish of the year that all that pruning, digging, compost, and nourishment was able to cause that tree to produce much fruit.

Each day we are resting on the doorstep of – a new beginning. 

Let us determine to keep our thoughts full of faith, positive, and forward - - To expect, and to anticipate miracles.  May we use our imagination to envision fertile ground, and an abundant harvest ahead!

At this time I am asking our Lord God to dig deep into each of us, to stir us up, douse us with the fire of the Holy Spirit and sprinkle us with some of His “Miracle Grow,” that we may all produce much fruit - - Each after our own kind.

~ ~~

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Be sure to encourage your fellow bloggers near you by reading several stories and leaving comments.

 

An InLinkz Link-up

True Story Blog Party Week 06/08/15

Reading a True Story

You are invited to enter YOUR True Story at our Blog Party. 

My goal is to read and comment on EVERY entry!

 I try to read 5 at a time.

Have you tried reading and commenting on a few posts near you?

My other blog is:  A Joyful Noise Please follow it by e-mail. 

View the notice On The "Blue Back Ground Above" How  

To find Other Blog Hop Suggestions that request "Anything goes."

~ ~ ~

A True Story from My Book “Rescue the Stories Book One” 

My Face Was RED !!

 

 

My mother did not wear make up and as a three year old child, I think I may have figured out one of the reasons why! 

One Sunday morning, to keep me occupied while we were in church, Mother let me look through her purse.  First, there was a small mirror that kept me busy for a few minutes. 

 

Wait, what was this?  I discovered a pretty little box with something blushing red in it, and a tiny powder puff.  Using the mirror, I began to apply the red stuff to my cheeks. 

The congregation had been asked to stand, while they sang all the verses to one of the hymns.  This gave me adequate time to complete my make-up job! 

As if my cheeks were not enough, some of the pretty powdered rouge found its way to my chin.  Almost effortlessly, it seemed to glide right up to my forehead until my entire countenance was a fabulous rosy-red. 

When the song was finished and mother sat back down, she was unpleasantly surprised to find that I had started an extreme make-over in church. 

The back row giggled! 

Mother quietly excused herself.  She firmly escorted me to the bathroom where some soap-and-water was applied, along with some vigorous scrubbing!  Soon, I was back to my old, pale self.  

How many of us have ever done something in innocence, only to later discover that we were an embarrassment to others - - - and possibly to ourselves? 

Isn’t it a wonder how God forgives our silliness, and gives us Grace to wash away that foolishness, so we can present a happy face to our world? 

God is so kind!  He may even snicker at some of our childish escapades.  For me, at least, there were not any far-reaching consequences; my mother knew what to do, and I allowed her to help me out of my situation, without fussing.   

If we are willing to keep a flexible attitude, and are constantly ready to clean-up and start over, it makes the lessons easier.  A teachable spirit is what God desires of us.  The Bible calls it repentance: stopping and turning, and going in the other direction. 

If at times, you find yourself with a “red face,” be willing to be escorted to The Fountain!  Without fail, the flow will wash you and make you presentable again. 

Psalms 51:7  Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean: Wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow.

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Be sure to encourage your fellow bloggers near you by reading several stories and leaving comments.

An InLinkz Link-up

True Story Blog Party Week 06/01/15

Listening to a True Story

You are invited to enter YOUR True Story at our Blog Party. 

My goal is to read and comment on EVERY entry!

Have you tried reading and commenting on a few posts near you?

My other blog is:  A Joyful Noise Please follow by e-mail.  

~ ~ ~  

A True Story from My Book “Rescue the Stories Book One”

 Life is not always “Pink”

 

Thinking back to my Kindergarten days, I realize now that we were fortunate to have an extraordinary teacher.  Miss Helen Jane was a bubbly person, always smiling, and as she spoke she would look into the eyes of each child.   

She stood at the door welcoming each child by calling their name as they entered the room, and at the end of the day she would again stand at the door and plant a kiss on our cheek.   

The girls did not mind, but for show, the boys would usually rub off her kiss.   

In today’s world those kisses would certainly not be approved by the School board, or the State or the Federal Government.  But that was the year 1937 and things were different then. 

An old victrola was in our room, and as we sat in a circle Miss Helen Jane would play music and shuffle our names from a group of flash cards. The child, whose name was shown on the card, was asked to skip around the circle and return back to his or her seat.  Our teacher made a game out of us being able to recognize our name.   

I remember that our chairs and tables were all painted a lovely hot pink.   

There was one chair that was brown.  Our teacher called it the “Thinking Chair.”  The idea was; those who misbehaved were to sit and “think” until they were ready to apologize to our teacher.   

Actually I don’t remember any child ever having to sit in that 'bad brown' thinking chair.  We all wanted to please our teacher and be good children. 

When Kindergarten was over and I entered the first grade room, you can imagine my shock when I discovered that all the chairs and tables were that 'bad brown' – not pretty pink.   

What had I done to deserve this?   

Aint that the truth, Life isn’t always Fair and Fun like Kindergarten ! 

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Please follow my other blog:  A Joyful Noise by e-mail.  

Be sure to encourage your fellow bloggers near you by reading several stories and leaving comments.

An InLinkz Link-up