A Time of Wonder

Hello friends,

Every once in a while in the Southern Appalachians, we have just enough winter to create the perfect spring. This year is the perfect spring. I went for a walk this morning and cherry trees were simply loaded with blossoms. My Bradford Flowering Pear, that I planted as a seedling eight years ago, is simply bursting with huge, white blooms. It towers nearly to the roof of our house, and we have two levels. It's BEAUTIFUL!

Last year we had drought, and it hurt to see our newly planted Magnolias choking and dying, but this morning, there they were: rejuvenated and bursting with the promise of purple pink blooms. My Redbud is towering, which is unusual for a Redbud, and it is loaded with tiny, pea-like buds that will soon flush with perfect pink blooms. Even some of my tiniest Redbuds have a bloom or two. But the biggest surprise lays at the back of our property. Planted as a seedling, also eight years ago, is the thorn tree. Supposed to be a Washington Hawthorn, it is not, and it is loaded with four-inch long thorns, that my husband says are a "b#tch" to mow around.

This thorny, unlovely tree has survived explosion after explosion from the installation of our sewer line. It has survived years of drought, and years of the worst insect inundations, that have had me running for my Bible just to figure out when the "chewing locusts" were going to arrive. But I have grown to love that tree, even when we discovered that it's first blooms would not appear for twelve years. As I said to my husband, only half kidding, "I would have been sixty-five."

Standing at the top of the slope with my "weenie dog," I looked down at that thorny tree, and what did I see? A bloom. When Happy and I finally reached the bottom (you never rush a weenie dog, when he is reading the grass), there were TWO blooms. My heart filled up with wonder! Two blooms. Two little bouquets, sent by God above, four years early. Just for me.

I can't explain to you why this little treasure filled my heart with so much wonder, when there is so much more this spring, but the blooming of the thorn tree has won the prize in my heart; and I think I know why.

Aren't our lives a lot like this thorn tree? Sometimes quite unlovely, prickly with thorns, and then, when we least expect it, in one wonderful springtime in our lives, we bloom. We show them all! And most of all, we show ourselves.

I am in the autumn of my life. God has brought me through illness after illness, and like that unlovely tree, sometimes it feels as though my way is filled with thorns. But God never gives up on me. There will be a new medicine. I'll have to try harder to lose that extra eighteen pounds, but in my husband's eyes and in the eyes of my children, and best of all, in the eyes of God, I bloom. So today, my heart is filled with blooms and wonder.

With love,
Jaye Lewis

A Time for Thanksgiving

Hello friends,

I'm writing to you from my laptop in my bedroom today, instead of my office. Instead of being in my lap or on my shoulder, Happy Dog is in his crate. He is not pleased; so I have chilled the room down and turned on his electric blanket. There is nothing a "weenie dog" loves more than warmth. You see, we almost lost Happy this week-end. He had a normal procedure, just the removal of some cysts -- a little slip of the scalpel and a few stitches. On the way home he started bleeding -- drip, drip, drip, and he soaked through my clothes. We did an immediate turn around, and, thankfully, the best emergency vet in the world was on duty. Thank God, Happy is recovering, my clothes are in the trash, and I have my weenie dog to annoy and delight me for a long, long time.

One of my reasons for sharing this is to remind you that a dog's blood loss is a very urgent emergency. Especially for small dogs, but also for large dogs. A pint from us is easy to share, but a pint from them can mean the death of a dog. For Happy, just a few more tablespoons and I would have lost him. No more warm body stealing my space on the bed; no more ice-cube nose thrust into the small of my back; no more sharp kicks telling me to move over; no more funny tricks as we play dodge-ball with a slipper; and no more face turned up to mine, just to let me know I am his world. With every drip, drip, drip, it felt as though my life was pouring out, along with Happy's.

Today, Happy is recovering under his super dog pressure bandage, that looks like a bright blue and white T-shirt. He is not allowed to play or run around. That is for another day, when we will once again resume our merry chase.

So I thank God for the precious instinct that He gave me, to see the unusual and to act immediately; for a vet who knew what to do; but most of all for the charm, laughter, and mischief that is Happy Dog. Thank you Lord, for his life!

With love,

Jaye

A Time to Speak

Hello friends,

Today has been one of those days that middle aged women often have, where the blood sugar and the blood pressure seem at war. I hate these days. I want to get busy. But I've been given this day to think, to ponder, and to share.

I want to share with you stories of some special souls that God has given to me. These are souls without a voice, unless I listen with my eyes, and with all of my heart. One precious soul you have met, if you have looked at his pictures above and below, my Happy Dog. He is the dog of my life, nine years old and still keeping his watch over me. The perfect heat seeking missile, he's under a blanket nearby.

Happy's voice says, "Mama, stay within sight; take me everywhere; and I will die for you." It's as simple as that. He would die for me. I know his voice, his real voice, that comes from his heart. There is no conflict; no wondering if he can slide by without honor; just one love...me. He has been by my side every day of his life, and he lives for me.

Then there is Jessie. He was supposed to be smaller. Much smaller. He is very big. He is very sensitive. He is often very scared. He's afraid of feet with shoes, scraps of paper, the T.V. remote, and the computer modem. He has a history that makes him so. He adores my husband, and he needs a lot of gentle reassurance from me. He is safe here. We will not let anyone harm him, including ourselves. He can be very fierce to outsiders. God help the person who ever tries to break into our house.

Peanut. Helen's little Pomeranian princess. Sassy. Bold. Funny and devoted. She is the youngest, and she has stolen all of our hearts. How could that happen when we were so unsuspecting?

Morgan. The Queen Mum. (No disrespect to the British) She just is. She is the oldest. She is fourteen years old. 85 in people years. She has given so much. Frail, now, I can still remember her standing in the river, desperately looking for a stray fish, and running through the meadow with such abandon. The Alpha female, always in charge, now the other dogs still defer to her, and I wish I could hear the patterns of their voices, saying, "Yes, your Majesty, you still rule in our hearts."

MeowMeow. The cat who never stops talking. An outdoor cat simply because she loves me so much she relieves herself on my pillow. Talking and going to the bathroom on my pillow. Along with eating those are MeowMeow's ways of saying "I love you." And she does. She loves me, and she follows me around the yard, wherever I go. She is precious, and she speaks to me, constantly. She makes my heart just ache, because I know she forgives me for the outside. Besides she loves the butterflies, and the mouse who shares her bed, and the birds who share their water. MeowMeow is like no other cat.

But there is one voice whom we will never hear from again. A little white and gray, calico Manx, who worshipped no one except our daughter, Helen. Snoopy would wait on the fireplace mantle (it was her spot), until Helen came back from college. Almost seeming not to care, at first, she would fly off the mantle and into Helen's arms, as she sat down. Helen would catch up on old times, and Snoopy would lower her ears and close her eyes for a good stroking. Snoopy loved Helen, and it was magic to watch.

How Snoopy got out of the house is irrelevant, but she did, and she ran, and ran, and ran, and no one could catch her. It was only later that we realized that she was looking for Helen. The neighborhood dogs, you don't want to know about; and six inches of rain the next day made it impossible for Happy Dog to follow her trail. No amount of advertisements or going house to house could find her. She was gone from our house forever, but never from our hearts.

I guess the point of this is that animals can't say what they want. They can't tell you they are thirsty, or as in Snoopy's case, a withering look and an adamant, "there's a hair in the water." Animals have no voice, or so I've heard; but they will speak, and they do, if we listen, with our eyes, with our hearts, and with our souls. And if we let them, they will change our lives forever.

Their time with us is so short. Morgan, fourteen, where every hug good-night, may mean "good-bye." Jessie, the large dog, who is seven, 54 years old. Large dogs age more quickly, and good-bye comes too soon. Peanut. Precious and pretty. So young, yet time passes swiftly. I know, because it seems like yesterday that I brought my tiny dachshund home, cradling him in the palm of my hand. Nine years old, and not in the best of health, still standing guard and ready to die for me.

I am not ready to say good-bye; but it will come, and I know it. So perhaps God sends these precious creatures into our lives, so that we will understand His grace; so that we will learn how to love; how to cherish; and how to change. We don't have much longer to change, but we can do it if we want to. Perhaps if we listen to the animals speak, they will teach us how.

With love,
Jaye

A Time of Threshing

Hello friends,

 

This is just a tiny note, which is unusual for me.  I wanted to share something with you.

 

The Bible tells me that at the end of the world, my Savior will come and "thresh" the nations.  Oh, I know that there are people who don't believe that, but I do.  What that means, exactly, is debatable even within the Christian community.

 

So I looked up the word "thresh," and I found that it means "to beat the stems and husks of grain or cereal plants."  It's how we get oatmeal, and the first step in getting flour for bread.  In order to get these precious foods, they must first be beaten from the stalk.  It is a necessary part of the life process.  It is also a necessary part of our lives.

 

I hate being threshed.  I hate the feeling of being beaten, but how wonderful is the feeling when I overcome.  We have all been beaten in some way.  We are all being threshed.  Even though I love the outcome, gosh, I hate the journey.

 

Friday a wonderful woman visited my website and blog, and she sent to me an Indian proverb:

 

"We have a saying in India that in order for henna to show her true colours, she has to be totally crushed before her true beautiful colour appears.  That is you."

 

I was so deeply touched that I was overcome with tears.  I cannot thank her enough.  So, it occurred to me, perhaps the threshing is not so bad if something beautiful comes of it.

 

Oh Lord my God, please carry us through the days of threshing, and bring us into the light of Your beauty.  Give us the strength as you carry us through.

 

May you have a wonderful week-end, my friends.  Take heart.  You are not alone, nor am I.

 

With love,

Jaye 

A Time of Deep Reflection

Hello friends,

Tomorrow is my mother's birthday. She would have been 91. As I grow older I find that I mark the date, March 13, and I'm usually quite teary eyed around this time.

My mother and I had a difficult relationship, to say the least. I cannot blame my mother for wanting someone different, but we did find peace in the end. She had a terribly unhappy life with my father, who fought demons of his own. Neither was happy, and I am convinced that neither would have known what to do with happiness, if it arrived in a great big box, all labeled and fluttering with ribbons.

My mother loved the little things: snowglobes and tiny plants. My father loved the grandstand. He was an accomplished musician, so he would write my mother a song. He would type the words onto a card for her birthday or their anniversary, and one problem, he would type his name at the end. Who does that? No message, just his name, typed.

Sadly, I don't believe my father loved anyone, including himself. My mother gave up years before she died. She died in the middle of an argument. A screaming match, really. She had this stomach ache that started in the morning, and only got worse through the day. My father told me this, later. As my mother cried and cried about her stomach ache, my Dad kept telling her, "take more antacid! It's just gas!"

The argument, much as my father's music, rose to a crescendo and then climaxed with my mother screaming, "I'm going to die!" My father, of course, shouted back, "oh no you're not!" And then, my mother fell back into her chair, threw up, and she died. My father did nothing. He wouldn't have known what to do anyway. And so, my mother was gone.

What has hurt me for most of the twenty-five years since, is that I was not there. I would have known what to do. I would have cleaned the vomit from her hair. That would have bothered my mother -- the vomit. I wasn't there to hold her in my arms and say, "Mommy, I am so thankful that the last words we spoke to each other was, "I love you."

Three little words. Nothing grand. Just I love you. Small things that mean so much. On my website at www.entertainingangels.org you can read a couple of stories that I have written about my mother. There is a link on this page.

My mother. I loved her and I hated her. That was simply the only relationship she would allow. I miss her every day.

Saturday, there was a contrast in my personal life. I got out of bed and I had a fainting spell. Out of the love that dwells within them, my two daughters sprang into action. Calling my husband they hovered over me, taking my blood pressure, which had fallen suddenly. My blood sugar was quickly monitored. Something was provided for me to throw-up in. My feet were held high, as my head was lowered. In my chest, my heart so fluttered, like a flock of birds. I am now fine. But I thought of my mother, so alone with my father, which is the most alone she could have been.

I realized how blessed I am, to be loved, to be sheltered, to be cared for, to hear those simple words, "I love you" hundreds of times a day. Oh yes, I'm sure my mother is smiling for me from heaven. And finally I can smile for her.

Much love,
Jaye Lewis

A Time to Grow Old

Hello friends,

I haven't thought about it very often in the last 60 years. Okay, maybe 30 years. I remember turning 30 and having this moment of sickening panic, when I realized that I would never see twenty again. That day, two forty year old friends wrote me a poem, brought it to my house, and then recited for me, just how young 30 is.

I remember that 44 bothered me. Not 40, but 44, because I realized that more than half of my life was over, and one day I would die. I remember thinking that I hadn't experienced enough to think about dying. I needed to do more. Actually, the very thought about dying and knowing that my soul would live on, absolutely terrified me. I had too many unanswered questions.

It seems all too silly today, perhaps because I am facing my 61st birthday, and I am on yet two more new medications, on top of the ones I already take. Yippee.

What brings me to this place of reflection, is silly, really. You see, I have misplaced one of my new medications; and that just makes me crazy, but not as crazy as it would have made me at 55 or even 58 or even 59.

You see, I'm waiting for my daughter to come home. She will find it. She will find where I left my new medication, if she has to tear the house apart; if she has to straighten every magazine, dust every space, crawl under the bed, or find where the dog may have hidden it; or even, where my sometimes scattered brain can't remember where I set it aside last night in the dark. So, my heart is light, because I have somebody. In fact I have three somebody's, who will tear the house down and rebuild it, just to find what I need.

So, I don't need to fear getting old. I don't need to wonder who will love me, and if necessary, who will care for me. If the day ever comes, when I'm suddenly a five year old, and I can't make it to the bathroom fast enough, I know that I have three blessed someone's who will clean everything up, including me, and thank God for one more day, in which to do it.

There is a lot spoken of these days about riches; how fast you can get it; how much you can get; and how long you can keep it. I see it, and it disturbs me, because the greatest treasure on earth is to know that one is loved, and just how much.

Jesus said, that there was a man who so admired his treasures, that he built a huge barn to house it all. Jesus called him a fool. He said, "Thou fool! Tonight thy soul will be required of thee!" Then Jesus asked, how much will your treasure be worth then? Then he said one of my favorite passages in the Bible; he said, "where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.

So, here is my treasure, in the heart of my husband; in the hearts of my children; and in the heart of God. I am very rich. I hope that you are too.

With love,
Jaye Lewis

A Time for Time

Hello friends,

I suppose that the title to this piece could be "a time to ponder," for that is what this piece is really about. Time. Making up time. Wasting time. Taking the time. And, of course, all the time in the world. That's where I am -- all the time in the world. That's what God has given me. Time.

I often don't like this gift. The time I missed my daughter's talent contest, where she won in a flurry of attention. The beauty pageant that she won with eyes alight with her inner beauty, and a smile that could light up the sun. There are so many things I have missed, because of health issues. So many things.

I am one of the lucky ones. I am blessed with a unique and lasting love of a man who truly understands that commitment. I have the love and devotion of two beautiful daughters, who count themselves blessed to make me a "throw-up" bag, or hold my head as I lean over the side of the bed.

Being like any other human being, I'd like to have more. I'd like to be able to leap to my feet in a crowd and applaud my daughters as they receive one award after another, but usually I cannot. They never suggest, with even a glance that I have let them down, and you know, I believe them.

So why not end it all, right now, as some would say. Why? Because God has given me time. The time to see the beautiful generosity of my children's souls. He has given me time to weigh the balance between what the world calls "love," and the wonderful, selflessness of my husband's devotion. He has given me time to really see who they are, and to tell them that I see.

God has given me time to understand the great riches of a warm hand brushing the hair back from my brow. He has given me time to see the great beauty blazing in the eyes of love. He has given me time to say, "you are my hero," and to mean every word.

He has given me time to gaze up at the stars on a crystal clear night, and to know that He created each one simply for my pleasure. He has given me time to watch a radiant sunset from the beginning to the end. He has given me time, so much time. And for those of us racing against time, I believe, He has given me the greatest gift of all.

With love,
Jaye

A Time to Surrender

Hello friends,

I don't really believe in magic or easy answers. Oh, I used to hope for them...when I was 10. But now that I am approaching 61, I have seen that "easy answers" come only after much hard work.

To put it another way, as a writer, I've found that I've had to work every day as though this will be the day I'll be hunted down and handed a million dollars to do what only hard work can bring me. Don't worry. I've never worked hard enough for a million dollars. It was said of one writer, an overnight sensation who spent ten years arriving at that lucky place: "He made a million dollars, but he spent six-hundred and fifty-thousand getting there." So I write stories that I love, and I hope that someone else will love them too. Sometimes I sell, and lots of times I don't, but I always love them.

I hate the testing times, those times that we must go through what makes us strong; but I love how God is able to do that, and still leave us able to love, and to give. I love that He can take our weakness -- my weakness -- and make us strong -- make me strong. In spite of me. While I'm complaining. While I'm shouting, "this should be easy. You're God, after all! Remember the universe? A flash of light, and it's there? You can make my pain go away. You can make my struggle disappear. I thought you loved me!"

How I can hurt His heart is beyond my comprehension, but I do, as I hurl insults and accusations. You see, I have every reason to be happy, and most of the time I am. I am loved by a man who lights up my world every time he walks into a room, and who lights my fire everytime he tells me that he loves me. I am adored by two daughters who can't do enough for me. I am safe in an unsafe world. I am dry. Comfortable. Well taken care of. I have everything already. Why would I want magic? Or easy answers? Why would I want riches, when the God that I worship gave everything up for me? So that I could go to Him and learn to surrender myself.

I don't want what the world can give. I want only what He gives, at least for today.

With love,
Jaye

A Time for Silence

Hello Friends,

Silence. That peaceful feeling in the dark watches of the night. That is when I feel God's closeness the most. I can feel the excitement as I realize I can say anything to my Maker, and He will understand. Anything. I tell Him about my disappointments of the day, or my life, and I share with Him my joys. How sweet was the smile of my husband, right before he drifted off to sleep. The delight in the eyes of my daughters as I have yet one more story or article published. Every smile; every delight meant for me. Themselves forgotten. Just my happiness in their eyes. These are eternal gifts, given to me by God. As my eyes close, and I finally drift off to sleep, I know that I am a blessed woman.

So, this is what I give to each of them, the gift of silence, when my aches and pains have troubled me all day. The gift of laughter, instead of tears. A smile, instead of a frown. Not something fake, but something that comes from deep within my soul. First the action, and then the feeling follows.

The gift of silence I give to my God. So that I can listen. So that I can understand. So that I can follow, and bless Him for His blessings. Here Lord. Here is my heart. Here is my ear, so that in listening, I may truly hear. Thank you for every blessed thing in my life.

With love,
Jaye

A Time to Heal

Hello Friends,

Recently I have thought much about healing. Where does it rest? Where does it lie? In the heart? In the body? In the soul?

There are those who will insist that if we have enough money, then we will be healed. There are also those who will say, "If you send me your money, then God will heal you." There are other conditions and programs that a host of people will tell you will heal you. The five steps...the seven steps...the ten steps. Listen to me! Follow my advice! Have enough faith in God! Have enough faith in me! The cacophony of noise is endless, like walking through the Midway at the fair. Look at me! Follow me! Hear me!

I think that healing is somewhere else. I believe that healing is in the heart of God. His love. His strength. Not my own. His hand holding mine. So little I am, without any power of my own. That is where I find my strength. That is where I find my healing.

God pulls me out of the waters, and I can feel the solid rock beneath my feet. I may still stumble. I may be poor and needy. I may be wracked with disease. My body may be crippled, but that is just for the blink of an eye that is my time upon this earth. I am healed when I am totally dependent upon Him...helpless, afraid, and wondering why. I am safe now, in His sheltering arms.

With love,
Jaye Lewis

A Time of Peace

Hello Friends,

There's not much peace in the world today, is there? I can feel it in my own country, and we see it every day on the news and online. It's very disturbing, and sometimes I think our leaders do not know where they are taking us. Sometimes they seem to have tunnel vision, a lot like my big, dumb dog.

My big dumb dog knows where he wants to end up, but it doesn't occur to him that there might be people in the way. He just charges forward, keeping his head down like a battering ram, figuring everyone will move aside. He looks neither to the right nor the left. He doesn't comprehend the consequences. In fact, consequences don't matter, as long as he arrives.

Of course, war is more serious than that, but in some cases the principle is the same. There simply isn't going to be a peace, and for the life of me, I don't know how a blood bath is going to bring peace about. Peace and blood are mutually exclusive. Blah. Blah. Blah. No one is listening to a sixty year old woman with health problems.

So how do I find peace? I have to look within myself. I have to find that part of me where God dwells, and find my peace in Him. This is not easy for me, but it is a place that I try to go every day. I have to honestly say that in all my sixty years, the only place that I have ever found peace, is at the foot of the Cross, on my knees. I guess blood and peace are not mutually exclusive after all, when One lays down His life to save the world.

Only in Christ can I find peace within my turmoil. Only in Him do I find answers to unanswerable questions.

May He give you peace in your heart today.

Blessings,
Jaye

A Time to Mourn

Hello Friends,

What a strange week this has been -- the death of a courageous American, President Gerald Ford, and the execution of a dictator, Sadaam who hated everything President Ford stood for -- integrity, the welfare of his country above self, a devoted husband and father, and one of the heroes of my life. This is also the week that American dead has gone over 3,000 souls. A generation has been wounded and maimed in an unending war that should never have begun. How hasty we humans are, making decisions without considering the consequences of our actions. How will they effect others? Who will truly pay the cost of my decisions? Everything seems so simple now, and instantaneous; but let me share a story that my grandmother told me, when she was not much older than I am now.

My grandmother was born in 1884. I was 12 when she came to live with us. One day she told me all of the things that she had been a witness to in her life: the first automobile; the first airplane; and at the time that we spoke, our country had already entered space. She would have loved the internet for the wonders that can be experienced online: the Hubble telescope pictures of the universe; photos of the earth from space; weather pictures in real time. All this and more would have given my grandmother much pleasure.

She would have, however, avoided much on the internet news today, just as I am. She would not have enjoyed seeing the execution of Sadaam. It would have repulsed her, just as it repulses me. It has been an agonizing time for me, as I carefully search for every bit of news about a President who cared more for his country than his career, while simultaneously avoiding the horrors of a hanging. You see, along with the joys that my grandmother shared about her generation, she shared something else. "In my day," she said, "people would go to public hangings. It was so popular that they would pack up the kids and a picnic lunch, so that everyone could enjoy the show. We are more civilized, now," she finished.

That conversation was in 1960. Now, nearly fifty years later, here we are. Click on the right link, and you can watch a man jerking at the end of a noose. You can replay it and share it with the kiddies. You can even bring your lunch. Gee, I guess we're not as civilized as my grandmother thought.

I hope and pray that every family who has lost a loved one in Iraq, and those who are waiting for one to come home, will have a safer and gentler 2007. And I pray that my grandmother's dream will become reality, that we will truly become more civilized.

With much love for the New Year.
Jaye Lewis

A Time to Gather

Hello Friends,

This time of year everyone is thinking about 'gatherings,' getting together, celebrating with family and friends. It is easy to get carried away; and spend too much money on things that no one needs. This can cause terrible stress.

It caused so much stress for me, so that right after the new year, in 1988, I had a nervous breakdown. This happens more than the U.S. government likes to admit to Military Wives, and I was a military wife. My list of necessary accomplishments was to help deliver someone else's baby; work full time for next to nothing; attend college on a shoestring; and deal with a nearly 20 year old daughter who wanted me to "stay out of [her] life!" until she needed something. Basically my job was to read everyone's mind and save the world.

I imagine military wives of today face an even greater burden, and my heart and prayers go out to them. Just the thought of the pain of this generation of military families wrenches my heart and sears my soul.

So, my advice, if you will permit me, is to slow down, spend less money, read a book, and look around you. If you have children, parents, friends; a spouse; or no one but yourself. You are still blessed.

Do something for people who have nothing. Volunteer at a soup kitchen or a food pantry; bring flowers to a nursing home. Reach out and touch the heart of someone who is less fortunate than you. I can guarantee that you will be rewarded with a warmth that presents and money cannot give you.

And if you fail, that's okay too. You are human. You can try again. One time I had tried and tried, and my health got in my way. I felt like a failure, and I just cried out to God, "How could you place in front of me a need that I would not be able to be faithful to finish??!!" In just a minute, I heard His voice in my heart, as clear as day, "Oh, I didn't ask you to be faithful; I just asked you to show up!"

I think that what God was telling me, is that He expects me to "show up" in my life; in my circumstance; to be willing to do what is necessary, even if "what is necessary" is simply getting out of bed and onto my treadmill. Simply to honor Him. That's all. To 'show-up' before Him and mean it when I say, "Lord, I surrender."

So, while you're gathering, or not; while you're celebrating, or not, take some time -- a few quiet moments -- and show-up in God's presence. Talk to Him, as though He is your friend, because I can promise you, He is.

With love,
Jaye Lewis

A Time for Change

Hello Friends,

I had hoped to have more than one post to my blog; however I've had a rough week. I'm 60, and I'm telling you, I don't look a day over 59! This past week, however, I've felt pretty old. I have a lot of health issues, but this week topped the charts for me. I'm doing much better, and I'm thinking about how I should spend the last weeks of this year.

At 60, is there really room for change? I mean aren't I "set in my ways?" Haven't I given enough? Haven't I earned the right to remain exactly as I am? These are all questions that many of us have, mainly because change is hard. Change takes me out of my comfort zone. It makes me feel weird. Is there anything I need to change? You bet there is.

I've yelled at God too much, like He doesn't have to put up with me already. Due to a recent bout with pain, I haven't gotten as much out of my Bible studies. No, I don't belong to a group. I like to study on my own. It is said that the best tool for studying the Bible, IS the Bible itself. A good reference Bible with all the relating Scriptures can give the student a wonderful perspective. I find one thing so remarkable about the Bible. No matter how many years I find myself immersed in the Word of God, it's always new. It changes me every single time.

I need to be more faithful in my walk with God on my treadmill. I've been doing this for nearly 3 years, but I've not been as faithful, lately. That time with God every day has changed my life. What a blessing it has been for me. It's kept me walking. It's kept me talking to God. And I believe that is what will give me a longer life. However, even if God takes me today, I will not have lost anything, by spending that time with Him.

In the last weeks of this year, I also want to focus on my family and my dogs. Oh yes, we have dogs, four of them. But the dog of my life is the dog in my pictures. That's my Happy Dog. He will soon be 9 years old. He has been my faithful companion for almost a decade. He's my little boy. I think that I have yelled too much lately. I want to put a stop to that.

It is not necessary to plan a large change at the end of the year, and it is not necessary to be eclectic and whimsical. It's okay, and more effective, to just be real. Okay, so I've lost my grip. That doesn't make me a failure. That just makes me human. I can begin again; and I can step forward in renewal, with a song in my heart. I can admit that I've missed the mark, and I can take a straighter aim.

Whatever change you want to make, think of the end of the year as a new beginning, a time for reflection, and a time to focus on the important things in life. Don't make yourself crazy at Christmas. It doesn't have to be perfect. Take a breather. Take a walk. Place your hand in the hand of God, and He will get you through.

Much love from,
Jaye Lewis

Time of Hope

December 1, 2006

Hello Friends,

This is my first entry to my blog. I've been dragging my feet, because new technology leaves me clueless. I'm sure there are those who can identify with me.

I've been thinking a lot about the end of this year. The new year has always been a time of hope for me. I've never been into parties, but on December 31st, it would be safe to say, I will be reflecting on this past year. How could I have done things better? How have my blessings outnumbered my anxieties.

As the hours and days go by, it is often difficult for me to grasp that I have more blessings than problems, but at the end of the year, I can see how truly blessed I am.

In January, 1981, I fled with my children, from my home and an abusive marriage. We wound up in a woman's shelter. This turned out to be one of the greatest blessings of my life. You may read the story, "From Victim to Victory" on my webite at www.entertainingangels.org

It also appeared in "Chicken Soup for the Recovering Soul," in 2004.

What could possibly be a blessing in winding up at a woman's shelter? Well, I found out who my friends were, and weren't. I found out that I had more strength than I ever could have imagined, and I found out that I could change my course. All of this was achieved by the grace of God, but I also chose, and I learned what making a choice really is. Making a choice is setting aside the old reality for the truth. It is also being your own best friend.

Well, I will make this short. Think about it. This is our last month of 2006. It's a wonderful time to look at ourselves and change what needs changing. 2007 is a bold new world. Let's make the most of it.

With love,
Jaye Lewis