Monday, December 18, 2017

Archive for November, 2005

The Salvation Army

Oh, Wild Man and me had a ball at the Salvation Army yesterday. I found these darling crystal cups. For the Recipe? I got 8 glass cups for $2.49. The little cups hold maybe 3 ounces. Then I got a quart glass Christmas jar with a lid. I have one already, and this and the new jar will hold the Recipe. I will just strain the Christmas Cordial and put it in 2 one quart jars with lids. Then I can just keep it in the fridge instead of hiding it on the porch. Well, Papa don’t drink it, anyway.

I want to find an old-fashioned Christmas tray to put the little crystal cups on with one bottle of the Cordial. Then I can get all fancy when Christmas Travelers come to my door on a cold and snowy night. I shall bring out the Cordial to warm the bones of my old Christmas friends. I doubt seriously if Grandma Walton will come, or Olivia. But, I dunno, they might, all depending upon my wild Christmas imaginations.

As I write, I am baking a big peanut squash. When it’s done and cool, I will just smash it up and use a pumpkin pie recipe to make a pie with the squash. Like 2 cups of squash instead of the canned pumpkin. This squash really makes a better pie {I think} than the pumpkin does. If I have enough squash, I will make bread with it. Just like ya make pumpkin bread but you use the squash. This squash sorta tastes like a nutty pumpkin when ya use it for pie or bread. The peanut squash looks like a giant tan circus peanut? The kind in the shell? Anyway, it has such a thin peeling and lots of good squash inside.

Well, Jim is up to shovel the walk, so I better get to makin’ breakfast.

The Fight of Faith

Good Morning Christmas Mothers,

It snowed about 2 inches here in Iowa last night. The snow is like an insulation on the house and it makes the house quiet.

Yesterday, I asked Jim if we could go to this older Salvation Army that we haven’t been to in a while. As we drove to it, we went by some nice older homes. I told Jim, as we passed them, “Ya know, Wild Man, it seems as ya look at these old homes that these people never suffer. Everything looks so peaceful. It’s like they don’t even know there is a war goin’ on or that there is suffering in the world.” I thought in my heart, “What would that be like, to not have to fight the good fight of faith, or to be completely ignorant of the world’s sufferings?” I always carry in my heart the sufferings of those around me.

Yet, as homemakers, we aren’t the head of the house and we don’t control the money. And yet I feel we have an obligation to our world to live honest and frugal lives. How can I walk before a truly poor person honestly if I am squandering money just because I can? My conscience doesn’t bother me when I stand before the suffering poor. I can talk to them straight across, as I have been there and done that. And I am glad the Lord has led me in this way. I am not afraid to live this way. And Barbara and some of you who help me to get my writings all over the internet, I tell ya, you don’t know how much peace this gives me. Because I know that if I have anything to say, the poorest woman can read it if she can get to the library and can work a computer.

I will never forget in my darkest hours watching the TV evangelist. Hoping for a drop of cool water to quench my thirst for the Lord’s presence. And I got a watered down sermon and, at the end, the announcer says, “And you need to get this exciting book for 50 bucks to find out what God is really doing in this age.” I used to think, as a new Christian, “Man, I will never know what God is doing because I can’t afford the book.”

Mercy! The believers shouldn’t have to beg for a word from God through the prophets. If a person is gifted to teach, they should give it away for free. The hurting sheep can’t pay for the prophet to live in a mansion. The teacher should walk with the hurting sheep and eat their food and dwell where they are. And I consider it a privilege to do this.

I know that many of you know who I am in my spirit. Most of the women that like my writing the most are the ones who eat gunpowder for breakfast. Oh, is there another way to eat breakfast?

I know Annie worries about me being so out there on the world wide web. Well, Annie, if I die out here, I die. But I will hit the highest star before I go. Being a gambler at heart, I win some and lose some. But when I win, I win big. And I may lose a hundred times or so, but when I win, I hit Satan in the belly with a blow he won’t forget. I could pull back and say something nice and polite about hiding off someplace in the closet. I mean, no one would rather live in the closet than me. I long for peace and quiet. My life is a three ring circus to begin, with without the internet.

Last night, we had company and Jim gave them some of his testimony. I awoke in the night, wondering how we ever made it through all that we went through and lived to tell it. Jim and I can crack into about anyone’s heart, as they know we have been where they have been and then some. I didn’t have one normal day in my 20’s. From the time I was 19 until I was 32, I never faced a normal day. Either I was being abandoned, and trying to recover from that, or Jim was home and I was trying to have faith he would stay there. Every day I got up, I was fighting the good fight of faith. Once Jim was saved, he had a wife that laid in open wounds. So, for about the next 10 years, I was fighting demons of fear off my back. I am tellin’ ya, you will fight for one thing or another.

Fight the Good Fight

And, ya know, when I faced my battles, I wanted to give up. But I was always witnessing in the midst of it all, that God was gonna deliver me, to those who were going through hell around me. And when I would dip in my faith and decide to give up, the hurting around me would just about lay down and die. My neighbor would cry if I decided to give up. Because if I gave up, and I was strong in faith, then she felt she didn’t have a chance in hell of makin’ it. Many times, I had to just decide to go on, even though I didn’t want to. Often it was not for my own sake but for the hurting sheep I saw around me. I couldn’t let them down. I knew they didn’t have any hope unless I went on.

Jane’s little girl Shelly, at only 9 years old, would say when I gave up, “Connie, if ya love Jim, why don’t ya go see him in prison?” I had given up. My heart was so sad. But Shelly needed me to not give up, as her own daddy needed to get saved and come back home.

I encouraged a few folks around me as I kept on going in my faith. And now, of course, because I didn’t give up, I can encourage many on the internet. Jimmy, our oldest, told me once, “Mom, you have the same people following you on the internet that you had following you the whole time I was growing up.” And this is true. My message has always been the same. “Ya gotta believe. Don’t give up.” And, ya know, I know I am not the last word on this. Many of you will add your faith to mine and come up with a lot better walk for Christ than what I have walked.

See, I didn’t have any testimony to fall back on. What I went through, I went straight up cold turkey. But I learned a lot. And what I learned in the closet, I shout from the housetops. And what I have to say is FREE. Oh, thank God, it’s free and easily accessed. And I pray all those good sites on being frugal can be easily gotten to, also. Man, I had to learn to cook from scratch. But can we put suggestions of other sites that will help the ladies learn to cook? I mean, you all are so computer savvy and know where to find the good stuff. And I am so grateful for the newsletter and the way you all are working to get that out. And it is free, and no obligation to print it off unless ya wanna.

This is where my heart is. It’s where I feel a peace about my writing. And the spiritual food that I throw out is just seeds. And you who eat my writings will do much better things. I feel like a pack mule trudging up the mountain. But you all with computers can carry so much more and so effortlessly.

I feel your hearts cheering me on, and you all are so dear and carry yet the hardest load. But if ya don’t give up, and ya don’t give in? You will one day have a loaded gun from God. And the demons around you, that it used to take ya years to get rid of, you can shoot between the eyes in a second. Ya just walk along and hardly notice a devil and shoot it as ya go. Stuff I used to about drop dead over I don’t even notice now.

Our Mary says, “Mom, you live in denial.”

I said, “No, I know all that goes on around me — I just fight it, and it looks to you like I don’t notice it. I notice stuff but I don’t speak it out and give it my authority.” Satan, when he attacks, doesn’t know if he got you or not. He waits to see what you will say about it. If ya act like you didn’t even notice, then he will know Jesus is on your side and he had better run away.

Our Christine and Johnny and Romeo

Christine is Johnny’s wife and Romeo’s mother. She has been such a delight to me lately. She is a rare jewel.

My son John was the son who left home for 7 years. I had to decide in my heart if I would let this boy drive me nuts or not. I just decided he wouldn’t and I let him go. He lived all over the country when he was only 17. But I prayed for him and God delivered him. He married Christine and, a few years later, they had Romeo Paul, who is now 3 years old. They plan to have a lot more children. Now John’s family has moved from Missouri to here. He says, “We are moving to Iowa, Mom, to be there if you and Dad need anything.”

Christine has such a thankful heart. The other night, she had stopped to visit along with Romeo, as John was at work. As we visited, she said, “Oh, I am so happy for all the stuff I bought at the Goodwill this summer. Now I don’t have any money to go buy stuff and I have all of my treasures to enjoy that I bought earlier.” She aways says the opposite of what you think she may say. And she says, as she shows me her cool dollar purse, “I got this at the Salvation Army for a buck. It’s a treasure to me because I had to go out and look for just the one I wanted.”

She hates the malls and the big shopping places. She says, if she wears something new, she hates it. She feels stiff in it and like a toy soldier.

She is a beautiful girl. She is 30 years old and very slim and healthy and loves vegetables.

She is like Ruth was to Naomi. She has given me new life. She called me on the phone the other night and asked me why her bread didn’t turn out. I tried to walk her through it over the phone. Well, thats hard. So a few days ago, when she was here, I made bread for her and let her get a feel for the dough and all. She is so vigorous and full of energy and wanted to push her fingers deep under the dough, make holes in it, and bring her fingers from under the dough out the roof of the pile of dough. She is so funny and such a riot. I showed her how to use the palms of her hands to push the dough down on the table and then fold it over and keep pushing downward. As we kneaded the bread together, I switched dough with her, trying to get her to get a feel for the dough.

She is an excellent cook and loves to bake. I had given her some of my frozen tomatoes and she made a sauce with it to dip her bread in.

Her father is from Armenia. So she has the beautiful olive skin and dark hair and eyes. She is just a spit fire and runs circles around us all. She is surely a blessing to me. She was a long distance runner in high school like our Christian Joy was. And Christine looks just like our Christian Joy, only Christine is shorter and a bit darker complexion.

But I just can’t say how thankful I am for Christine. She and Johnny have come to Iowa, they say, “just to help out.” They are so loving and so full of joy. God is good. And the lord gave me double blessing for all that I suffered with John as a wayward and seemingly impossible son.

Christmas Preparations

Good Morning Christmas Mothers,

It’s raining and warm here in Iowa. Then tonight it will get cold. Then we will be slippin’ and slidin. Jim is off work today and we will get the Christmas tree.

I have started potato soup in the crock pot. Will need to make some bread rolls. I had made potatoes and ham with cheese in the crock a few days ago. So now I am making the potato soup from the leftovers.

I have been so out of groceries. Last night, Wild Man made a lot in tips, so we are going to the store today. Gonna buy some kerosene. Yeah! And have it for tonight when the weather gets cold. Wild man and me will stay warm and drink hot coffee and stay close around the burner.

This morning, I made some nice Spiced Cherry Cordial for Christmas. It will be done brewing about a week before Christmas. It has wild cherries in it and orange slices. Also cinnamon pieces, whole cloves, and whole allspice. If I can find some nice lemons today at the store, I will buy one and slice it up for the cordial. I just make it up in a gallon jar and set it to brew in a warm place.

Now you be quiet, Annie, I need something to warm my old winter bones. Kerosene burners can only go so far, ya know. And, no, this Christmas Cordial ain’t for kids! It’s for the adults to drink for a toast at Christmas — after the kids go to bed. Sometimes, after your dear relatives insult ya over the holidays? Ya gotta keep a straight face, wait till they go home, get out the cordial, and laugh it off. Naw, just kiddin’ ya.

Anyway, when Wild Man gets up this morning, we will go do some serious grocery shopping. Jim was up in the night and couldn’t sleep so he decided to clean out my chest freezer. I will be eternally grateful to him for that. Because it wouldn’t have maybe gotten done until after I died. Sad but true. If it wasn’t for Jim, I would never know what was in my freezer. So today, some of the kids will drop by later this afternoon. I will have the soup on and they will eat some.

Ya know, in the wintertime, when the children were little and at home, I would buy lemon drops and keep them in a jar. Our family used these for cough drops. Our cold winters in Iowa cause the house to get so dry from having so much heat going all the time. So your throat at night will just get dry as a bone. The lemon drops are cheap and work good like a cough drop. Well, don’t give it to a child who would choke on the hard candy. But for older children, the lemon drops are good.

Well, I had better get to my Christmas grocery list and check it twice.

Dead Babies and Vaccinations

It is not a necessary evil to kill babies so that we can have a vaccination for chicken pox. The necessary evil would be to go ahead and allow the children to have the chicken pox. The pox won’t kill ya, but we have to kill a baby so we won’t be bothered with the chicken pox? Oh, yes, I guess a few die from having chicken pox. About as many as die from back alley botched abortions done by the mother. Not very dang many, in other words. My children had chicken pox and Jim hadn’t had the pox as a child, and he never caught them from the kids. No abortion is necessary so we can have a chicken pox vaccine. It is this kind of thinking that is furthering the cause of abortion on demand.

My family has grieved our hearts out over the loss of Mary’s baby who died at exactly 7 weeks old, almost to the hour. Mary and Brandon are so grieved, especially now over the holidays. The grandparents on both sides grieve and grieve. Chloe Faye’s mom and dad go out to her grave and lay on the ground and cry out their baby’s name.

How can any mother who calls herself a Christian speak so nonchalantly about the death of 1.5 million abortions per year? Body parts being used for shampoo and God knows what. Where are your hearts, dear Mothers? How can you want to use the death of a baby to immunize your children against chicken pox?

Learn how to take care of the children when they have the pox. I went to public school and all of my classmates had the chicken pox. They were out of school for a couple weeks. It’s just a virus. I mean, we could die from having a cold, but it isn’t likely.

Someday, when revival comes to our world, the younger generation is going to say to us, “Where were you older people when all of this killing of the babies was going on? You didn’t lift a finger to help them?” No, and we figured they were dead anyway — why not use their body parts for something useful. You who call upon the name of Jesus should be ashamed. May God forgive you! Do you really think that, now that you know this vaccine has dead baby parts in it, God will think it’s OK for you to give your children a shot of it?

God is not a pitiful fool that can’t heal your children or keep them safe. Yes, we lost a child. No one’s fault — she just died. But all the hell and high water I went through, and had 6 children in the middle of it, I never lost a child. God is not stupid and trying to get you to use things that are defiled in order to save your children.

And I know that many of you have husbands to answer to and had to have the shots as to stay in submission to your husbands. But I hope that you were against it when you had to have it done. I have meant to awaken some of you who dream in your churches and think because you are there, you can get away with murder. Payday comes, Darlin’. Payday comes. You will answer to God someday for what truth you had concerning the abortions in our land.

The innocent blood of the death of millions of dear children cries, even now, from the soil in our country and around the world. Just because you can’t see these babies doesn’t mean they haven’t got a life. They still live in heaven.

I am glad that I have more days behind me than in front of me. And one day, I will go to sleep and die, wake up and be holding Baby Chloe Faye. It will be like a nightmare that I have awakened from. I will hardly remember the grief on this earth or the day I heard my girl cry into the phone, “Chloe isn’t breathing, Mom” and I heard the wailing and crying of both Brandon and Mary. And I think, ya know, someone grieved for the passing for this baby. At least she had that. But how many babies have cried alone at the dump? And many are priests and prophets of God. Handmaidens for God who died alone without love or care from anyone. All of these babies are alive in heaven and thank God. But how must God’s heart hurt for the lives that were to be lived out here.

Lord Give Us Tears to Cry

Oh, I am not here to write to win friends and influence Christians. I am not soliciting money to keep myself on the air. I mean, if God took me off this thing today, I wouldn’t worry about it. I could still pray for you all and write to you snail mail.

Haven’t you all had a gut full of the fat cats who have been leading you along? They are robbing many of you blind. And what do you have after the shepherds rob you of your house payment? A nice Bic pen with their name on it? The things these shepherds forget to tell ya is what is killin’ ya. Yeah, they say all the right things as they dance upon the bloodstained ground.

If you think for a moment those babies aren’t crying out to God, and telling of the abortions, and how they were killed? Oh, you are dull of hearing and spiritually lost. Those little souls have a spirit that was cut short. They had a job to do on the earth. Their lives were cut up but their spirits live on. And, believe me, they are tattletales and will tell on all of us.

May God forgive me that, as a girl of 19, I found out I was pregnant and not married. I was unsaved and tried to take pills to get my period to start. I didn’t want a baby. I was living wild and didn’t love the Lord. But the Lord kept my baby, thank God, and he was healthy. But at the time, had I had the chance and abortion was legal and easy, I would have had one. May God forgive me and have mercy upon my soul.

The shepherds tell us that if we can all just get in one place and give our money, then Jesus can come back for the body of Christ. Oh, dear Jesus, give us tears to cry and hearts to wail out in travail. Do we want to go up in the rapture as we watch the aborted babies come up with us out of the bloodstained ground? Crying and wailing for their mothers who killed them?

These babies are not dead — their spirits live. We mothers can make a baby but we cannot put the spirit of life in them. Life belongs to God. He is the one who breaths on them and gives them life. As they die here, they are present with Him in heaven. These babies, now dead through abortion, have a voice and we will hear it someday.

Our bloodstained country won’t get away with this murder. There are more dead babies in the ground because of selfish mothers than dead soldiers who fought in all of our wars since America was founded. And we used to talk about the 6 million Jews that were murdered. That was unreal to us. But now, since abortion laws have been passed, we as a country have murdered about 32 million babies.

I pray to God that Jesus doesn’t come back for the lame church I see today. May God call men of God to come forth to preach the truth from the pulpit. May God call us housewives to travail in prayer for revival in our bloodstained land.

Mothers, please quit your jobs and come home and take care of the children. Learn about the childhood diseases and learn how to care for the children when they are sick. If you want to live for God, then be an example of a mother who won’t take a dive in this present world.

So many of you, even who read this, are going to hell. Your preacher has lulled you to sleep with his talk about money and how God wants you to be rich. All he is doing is fattening you for the kill. You are going to roast like a pitted pig at a backyard Bar-B-Q. Hell is real! I didn’t know it was. I used to worship Satan. I ain’t lily white, by any means. But I asked the Lord to forgive me and He did and He cleansed me from all unrighteousness. There is weeping and wailing going on in Satan’s pits. Once you are there, you stay there and burn forever. Please weep and wail on this side of heaven and hell and get right with God. Sins of murder and shackin’ up with your boyfriend and homosexual lifestyles won’t enter heaven. I didn’t make that up, the Bible says so. And ya know, give all your money to the preacher if ya wanna. But mainly read the Bible.

Stars of Our Nation

As I write with such travail in my heart, and tears in my eyes, this morning I think of the Stars of our Nation. The little Mamas that refuse to take a dive and go on birth control. They aren’t intimidated when their friends all get new cars and new houses. They won’t give up on God so they can be rich in this world.

Ya know, sometimes I watch those shopping channels. Well, we have limited cable and I get desperate to watch something. I have never seen such gaudy jewelry. I wouldn’t wear that stuff if you gave it to me. And some of this junk women go out and get a job to buy is just foolish. And to put a child in daycare so you can have all this junk? Well, the world wants it, sure. But the Christian mother selling her soul for this trash? No, we Mothers who call upon His name are to be different than the world. We are to take on hardship as good soldiers for Christ. We are to pick up our cross and carry it daily.

We can name and claim it and blab it and grab it all we want. Sometimes we don’t get healed, even though we said all the right prayers. When I pray for folks, many times they get healed, but not always. And this is a sorrowful thing to me. Often my prayers are answered. But sometimes I just suffer the hardship through.

We are NOT to think it is strange when we suffer as Christians. Christ suffered and we will, too. If they didn’t like Him and the church threw Him out, don’t ya think they will throw us out, too? And I know there are some good churches. But ya know, Jesus Christ was a radical revolutionist. He didn’t come here to tiptoe through the tulips. He called the church folks snakes and vipers. If He came in the flesh again, He would call them worse than that. The early Christians thought it was an honor to die for Christ, as He died for us. And it is an honor, but who among us would be brave enough to do it?

Some of you mothers with a houseful of children need to live as Mary did. This world is not your home. You are set apart to live a holy life and to raise the children for the Lord. I encourage you, dear Mothers, who are sold out for Jesus to rejoice and be glad. You are an endangered specie and you need to guard your lives. Live holy lives unto God. The word holy means separated unto God.

See, I was like this as a young wife and mother. I was alone most of the time without a husband. And the Lord kept me home and taught me His ways. And what I learned in my secret prayer chambers, I now shout from the housetops. And if I die, I die. My children are grown. I am not afraid to die. I think at times I may be more afraid to live. But I still live here at home and when Jim is at work, I am doing what I alway have. Taking care of my home and praying for the children. If I had nothing to do at home, I would just stay here, anyway. Just because I know that the Titus 2 mother is an endangered specie, too. I want to live an honest life before God and before the true body of Christ.

And, oh yes, the body of Christ is out there. They don’t ALL go to your church. My sisters and brothers are all over the world. And some day we will arise and go and meet Jesus in the air. And my sisters and brothers know me and I know them. I don’t know their names. But when one gets around me, I know if they are a true follower of Jesus Christ. Or if they are just planning on church and their money to take them to heaven.

Today, as you mothers care for the children and homeschool them and teach them the word of God, I applaud you. May the angels bless you and be your companions. You are the stars of our nation. You are the ones holding this shootin’ match together. You are the foundation of our country. It’s not the president and the politicians. It is your tender prayers, dear mothers.

The truth is a power. Those who have no respect for children won’t be heard by God. He hears the broken and contrite heart. Don’t deny the faith and be worse than an unbeliever.

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Good Mothers and Happy Homes

I am up writing this morning and trying to top clean a bit before Jim gets up for work.

We had a wonderful Thanksgiving. When we got home last evening, I didn’t put all my stuff away. There is so much work on Thanksgiving to do that I hardly know if I ate anything or not. What with playing with the grandbabies and helping Mom with dinner, I didn’t have much time to eat. I am there mainly to help and to give others a nice Thanksgiving memory. The old time mothers were like that. They helped the old folks fill their plates and kept the children occupied and happy. And afterward, they did the dishes.

When I was young, all the old aunts about me helped me with my children and now it is my turn. As a young mom, I would see all the aunts and mothers working to make sure everyone got a full plate. We would all say to each of these working mothers, “Did you get a plate?” and they would say, “Oh, yes, I will eat as soon as I can get around.” Meaning as soon as they knew everyone else had what they needed. The old folks need help, ya know. And the children need to be whispered to “to be good.”

After the coast was clear yesterday, I went down to the basement to play the piano. Romeo, age 3, played the bottom notes and Baby Rose, age 2, played the top notes. And Grandma played the middle part as I kept the children balanced on the piano stool.

The whole day, my heart kept wondering about Mary. I thought she and Brandon were going to his folks for Thanksgiving. But instead, they mainly stayed home and grieved over their lost baby. The holidays are hard and this coming Christmas will be hard. And yet, as I am mother to Mary, I also play many other roles here. My main role is to be strong. To be the example. To show my faith and to just keep on goin’ until the flood waters in our souls diminish with each passing day. It’s so hard to watch my own Mary suffer like she does. And yet I can’t be any good to her if I lose my faith.

A few weeks ago, Mary told me, “Mom, I am OK. You don’t need to call me and ask me if I am OK.” Mary worries about me and Jim, that we won’t be OK. And I can’t add the burden to Mary of unbelief on my part. I must have a heart of faith to lead my dear children and grandchildren along. I must be the example of faith in the Lord. To encourage the children who are doing their best and to gently admonish the ones who ain’t.

And still I am Papa’s bride. Oh, yes, always Papa’s bride. My home is here now, just Papa and me. I must maintain the joy and stability here, too. It’s cold this morning and Papa has to go out and deliver Pizza in it midmorning. And the car is clicking and sounding funny. How long will it before the dang thing will roll over and play dead? Oh, I don’t worry, as Papa will go find another car and never skip a beat.

And the night before Thanksgiving, I was so sick in the night. I couldn’t hardly stand up without weaving. I didn’t tell anyone. But I am here to tell ya that God healed me – oh, yes, He did. The next morning, I was healed. And that is when I wrote about the chicken pox and all. The night before, I couldn’t sleep and I just kept saying, “Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, I claim what You did at Calvary.” I chanted in my heart. “The Blood of Jesus. The blood. The blood!” See, Satan is afraid of the blood.

Well, ya know, I knew if I was sick, I couldn’t give anyone a nice Thanksgiving. My Mother worked so hard, at age 82, to open her home to all of us. Jim and I went over midweek to help clean, then we all clean up before we leave. But Mom did a lot of work and the family needed a nice holiday of memories. And, ya know, someday the kids will remember these happy times. They are rare times to teach the children and their parents sacrifice and a sense of duty. Oh, yes, I could weep and turn inward as I would like to do. But I think to myself, “Don’t be a big baby, Connie, you have folks counting on you.”

And, ya know, if you see a family that has generations of brokenness, you see a family who never had good mothers. Sometimes you see decent women in the family but they won’t take any authority against the evil. They let things go on that they should have been praying over.

In some families, the older mothers are like babies — they never grow up. They won’t take any authority to have a big meal and invite the family. They feel inadequate, I guess. But you always wonder about these families like, “Who is running this show, anyway?” So many of these mothers give outside jobs top priority. It takes their strength and dignity.

The family could be sick but the mother has no thought for it. And, yes, our men are to lead the family spiritually. But men need their helpmates. If I was to leave Jim alone for the day if he was sick? I would come home to a dead man. He knows nothing about medicine. One time, I was having a gall bladder attack and he got out the vaporizer. And if I have any ailment at all, he buys me cranberry juice. I will tell him, if he has a cold, to take an aspirin and some cough syrup. And he thinks if you can take two medicines together, then fine. So he will take an aspirin and some Tylenol or whatever. I tell him, “Do not take any medicine unless you tell me first. You’re gonna kill yourself with that stuff.”

And Jim ain’t the only one. I see so many men doing stuff like this. They need a wife to care for them. Most men don’t read labels on medicine bottles. They will take antibiotics until they feel a pinch better and then they stop them. And they shouldn’t do that. They get sicker, and it would take a detective to figure out what pills they took, and what they didn’t take they should have taken. And they don’t have but two minutes with a doctor in the office.

The old time Mothers were always in charge of the sick in the family. And, yeah, I know he didn’t take care of you when you were sick. Well, join the club. That’s the nature of the beast. Men are not nurturers. They don’t understand pain like women do. I mean, the old time mothers always knew this. But, ya know, ya got this cult feminism goin’ on, and no one seems to have a lick of sense anymore. Women are to run a home and make their beasts be good.

I always said that teaching Johnny in homeschool was like trying to teach an alligator to sit up to the table and drink tea from a teacup. Well, some men are like that, too. They learn compassion as you, dear wife, teach it to them as you nurse THEM back to health. Some men were raised in a rough way. No mother was there to teach them to be courteous to folks who came to the house. I mean, some men are very brutish and need to learn to be gentlemen. And this is the job of the Christian wife, to show them by example how to be nice in front of the relatives or the neighbors.

Well, Wild Man? Oh, mercy. Years ago, he threw this neighbor lady out of the house. Later, he apologized. This was in the late 60’s. He told her, “Sorry I got hot.” She thought he was hot because of the weather. That the hot weather made him crazy. I just let it pass as that. And my mom brought her neighbor friends over to see Jim’s and my first apartment. Well, Jim got mad and went and locked himself in the bathroom. I was glad he did. No one got hammered that day! Whew! But the neighbors always wondered why Jim locked himself in the bathroom. I always act like he has a medical condition.

But let me tell ya, men are not keepers at home. And I have seen men try to be keepers at home. Like the wife goes to work and husband is left in charge. I don’t care how smart the man is — he is a man. And God didn’t make him to play nursemaid to his wife. I have seen men make fun of Jim because his job is lowly. As they stand there with no job and wife at work. But these men are fools. They are depressed and lost. But they can’t understand it, as Feminism has taught them it’s OK. I see so many depressed young men, running around thinking God has this big call on their lives to start a ministry. They are out of work and their wife is bringing home a good wage to support the family. That is no way to start a ministry. It’s a way to start a cult, for sure.

This one friend of ours divorced his wife so he could have a ministry. Then he remarried a younger woman who helped him start a church. I was nice about it. But when this guy asked Jim to church, it was like lightening hitting the roof. And Jim is always standing around asking me why this or that guy has been out of work for so long. Knowing Jim is a bomb, and not needing any of my fire, I try to act like I don’t know why the guy is out of work for so long. Or I try to act like I didn’t hear him. Or I try to change the subject.

I will say this. We have money most of the time to loan out to the kids if they have an emergency. But I don’t go out and spend a lot of money on nonsense, either. And this is another lesson for us. “Don’t expect more out of a man than what he can give you.” Live under his covering of finances. If your husband is having trouble financially, then act like a woman of dignity and don’t complain. If you need something, then ask God for it. If you really have to have something, the Lord will meet your needs. And when nosy church ladies try to feel sorry for ya, don’t fall for it. Maintain your husband’s dignity and honor toward the family.

Well, duty calls. I better blast.

Happy Thanksgiving

I am up early this morning makin’ sweet potatoes and pumpkin pie. We will have our Thanksgiving at my mom’s and all the kids and their families will be there except for Christian Joy and Jimmy our oldest son. Christian Joy has flown to California to spend the day with her boyfriend’s family. Then Jimmy and his wife Alecks are staying home, as Alecksondra is pregnant and sorta sick yet. She is due in May and we are excited about that.

Romeo, my little grand boy, is 3 and we are really getting to know him better as his family just moved here from Missouri. When asked lately by Rose’s mom, “So how do you like Grandma Connie?” he said he liked her.

And his mom said, “Well, I thought you told me you thought she was pretty, didn’t ya?”

He said “No, I didn’t say she was pretty. I said she was cool.” Oh, Jim and I get such a kick out of Romeo. He is all boy. No kisses and hugs from him unless ya steal ’em. And he runs by ya so fast, ya hardly can even steal a kiss. But Jim and I had mostly boys — 4 boys and 2 girls. So we are used to little boys. And we know they are pretty stingy with their kisses. So if you are good at tackling little boys, you can get a kiss from Romeo. Christine, his mother, (John’s wife) dresses Romeo so nice. She shops at the Salvation Army and Goodwill and garage sales in the summer. Never worldly clothes, just nice big boy clothes. I can’t say enough about how good of mother and dad that John and Christine are to Romeo Paul.

Also, today I will see Lil Rose. Oh, Jim and I miss her so much. Her Mom and Dad take care of apts now so I don’t have Lil Rose regular as I did. Papa and me go get her for the day sometimes. The day doesn’t seem long enough, though. We miss her again as soon as we have to drop her off at her home. But the kids are doing good and Baby is bonding with Mom and Dad. That is good.

My children are doing well this Thanksgiving. “All of my children are taught of the Lord and great is their peace.” I have much to be thankful for. We are all well and holding our own.

Ya know, when I was a little girl, Mom used to say to me. “You have to make your own happiness.” And I think that is true. I mean, we could worry over our families as Grandparents until we are blue in the face. But I want some happiness, don’t you? I mean, I guess when ya get older and you feel like you are home free in your marriage, ya look for something else to worry over. You can just worry all your life and it gets to be a habit. But we can make a habit of being joyful just as well. We CAN lay our burdens down. No rule says we have to worry all the time.

If our kids are married, then it is now their spouses’ responsibility to care for them. As mothers, we are always there as mothers. I guess we are mothers forever. But the Lord wants us to let our children grow up and into their own families. My mentor MaryL always says, “Connie, let loose of those kids. Let ’em go to Jesus. You have done your job and now they are on their own. Jesus knows how to take care of them. When you have the burden, then Jesus can’t take it.”

Well, ya know, about the time I learn how to let Mary, my sixth child, go, then she has a way of not letting me and Jim go. She is the baby of the family and a girl, at that. We were so close! She has had the flu and I have worried like mad over her. But she will be OK. She WILL be OK. They have health insurance so she can go to the doctor if she needs to.

Shoot, we never went to doctors when we were raising the last 3 children after Jim was saved. We always used home remedies and prayed. This is how I learned that Jesus was the Healer. He is, ya know. Prayer is a way of healing, too. I mean, yes, we use doctors, too. But prayer is a way of healing, too. Jim told me that when it was his time to go, he just wanted to die here and not to call an ambulance if he needed one. I told him, “Wild man, do you know how much time I would get for that?”

Oh, it is very cold and crisp outside on this Iowa Thanksgiving morning. Reminds me of the old time Thanksgivings at my uncle’s farm.

We children loved to be outside playing, no matter how cold it was. My cousins were mostly boys. I was a fast runner at school but, mercy, when I got to the farm to run and chase with the farm kids, they could always out run me. Russ, my cousin who was a year older than me, would chase me when we played tag. He ran so fast, he would run into me and when I fell down, he would run right over me. He was big and healthy as all get out.

And this was back in the early 1950’s when polio was going around. Russ contracted polio but wouldn’t stand for it. The doctors tried to make him stay in bed. He was probably 7 years old. But as soon as the doctor left his bedroom, he would get up and jump on the bed. (This was when country doctors made house calls.) Russ was such a rascal, nothing could keep him down. I mean, I was the fastest runner in my school, of the girls, anyway. And only one boy could run faster than me. But Russ could way out run me. He was so fast. But, anyway, no one could keep him in bed, even if he had polio. And the doctor later said that this is what saved him, as he was so rambunctious. And his muscles never had time to lock from the polio, as he was always on the move. He still has a bit of trouble with his joints because of the polio, as he is about 60 now. He is still very robust.

But, ya know, back in the 50’s, we didn’t have immunizations for whooping cough or mumps or 3 day measles or chicken pox. We just got all those diseases, as we thought it was just a part of the sufferings of being a kid. We did all have polio shots, though, as you didn’t want that. And we had other shots, too, for something — I have forgotten now. Russ got polio before the shots were available. But, ya know, when the kids in the neighborhood got the 3 day measles, they just stayed inside for 3 days until they got better.

The Mothers were stay at home moms, and all the mothers had the good sense to keep the child inside and cared for. Mothers didn’t purposely infect the whole neighborhood. Same with the mumps and chicken pox. Whooping cough was no fun. I don’t think I ever had that but some of the kids I knew did. Their mothers just stayed up at night with them and made sure they were safe when they coughed. I mean, Mothers were always up in the night checking on the children. Always making sure they were covered up and warm.

Now days, if it were not for immunizations, the children would get sick and most of their mothers wouldn’t care for them. I mean, sad to say this, but it’s true. And I mean chicken pox and mumps, etc. would be serious if the child isn’t cared for. But the old time mothers knew that and knew how to nurse their children through these childhood diseases. All of my children had chicken pox. They didn’t start immunizing against that until later.

But I personally think that this is why some of the children get this weird stuff no one can put their finger on. Because I think some of those diseases like chicken pox was a cleanser for the body. I mean, it ain’t that big of a deal to have the chicken pox. Well, it is if you are a working mother and have a career to look after. It is a serious interruption in your life.

Well, I guess I better get back to my dinner preparations. Have a happy Thanksgiving. How I got off talking about diseases on Thanksgiving, I will never know.

Dreams and Visions

Good Morning, Thanksgiving Mothers. Is everyone gettin’ ready for Turkey Day? Today Mary and Jim and I will go to my Mom’s to help her get the house ready for the family to gather on Thursday. My mom is 82 and will bake the turkey and have the celebration at her house. Of course, everyone helps and brings food. I will bring candied sweet potatoes and pies. Then each of the families will bring vegetable casseroles and salads.

I am having a sort of vision of an old time Thanksgiving. It must have been a Thanksgiving I went to as a child. I was about 3 yrs old. I remember the floor being covered with the old time carpet rugs. I see a warm fire as it glows. The floor is not even and and you walk up and over the sagging floor. I can feel the humps under my feet as I write. And yet the Mother there in charge keeps a warm home.

The old carpet is pieced and tacked down. Ya know, the old timers would just patch a floor. Sometimes they would take a tin can and flatten it with a hammer. Usually it was a tobacco can, as they were flat. They split it apart and then would hammer it flat. Then they would put it over a hole in the floor and nail it down. Then the carpet went over that. The patches kept the critters out, too. Well, at least in the winter, they used carpet. Folks, ya know, just made do. They patched their carpet, just like they would their clothing, and they would just nail the pieces down with carpet tacks.

Anyway, as I walk on this floor with the patched carpet, I can feel the tin can patches under the carpet. They kinda squeak up and down under my feet. The house is sealed shut and a warm fire is blazing. It is evening and we just got there the day before Thanksgiving. We were expected earlier in the day but the snow storm kept us behind in time. So when we got to the farmhouse, the fire in the fireplace had been made and remade, and the fire was an even heat now in the house, and such a joyful fire it was.

All of us children laughed and teased each other until it was time to go to bed. I remember the uncles kidding us children, and the aunts were always more sober with the business of Thanksgiving at hand. The men would tease the women about being so worried about Thanksgiving and having everything just right.

I must be seeing an old farmhouse in the 40’s. Because the carpet I see is about that era. And on the door is this heavy brown paper tacked over the whole door. The house is snug with much of the plastic paper on the outside windows and doors. As the wind whips in the cold, the sound of the brown paper on the kitchen door claps for the winter wind.

The country folks back in the early days were always less sophisticated than the city folks. They worried more about a warm home than the latest city styles. I used to hear them answer their city relatives with, “Oh, that’s just for city folks.” The simple folks out on the land were more common sense people who lived close to home. They named all of their animals and saw more of animals than of people.

Last night as I prayed, I said “Oh, Lord, who was supposed to be the older Titus mother in my life?” I longed for her to come to me and to just sit with me. I longed to see her face. Just once to see her face. I wrestled in prayer to see her face and I never did. And the Lord said to me, “Connie, just sense her presence.”

I feel so bare boned and cold lately. So alone and not comforted. I have felt that this adventure of writing a book takes me to a place of cold loneliness and a panic and fear. And yet wouldn’t this go with the territory? Been here and done that. I may feel alone and, yet, the Lord shows me a country farmhouse with a patched floor and a warm fire to sit by. The wind howls outside, but inside the Lord’s heart and place for me, it is warm and all of my needs are met there.

Old-Time Thanksgivings

As a child growin’ up in the 1950’s — oh, we had the most wonderful Thanksgivings. The baked turkeys and hams, sliced thinly and so tempting. The children were always trying to steal a piece of meat before it was put on the table. The dinner was promised to be served at noon. But we were always waiting for some relative that was late. The women would look out the window and worry about “Aunt Whoever.” And wonder and worry over them being late. No one made a long distance phone call to see if someone was on their way. I mean, you didn’t call long distance unless someone died. Well, almost. And everyone yelled into the phone because it was long distance.

I remember as a child being in bed in the early morning and Mom calling her brother Clarence. Everyone called early in the morning, as it was cheaper to call. So Mom woke me up yelling “Clarence” into the phone. We children would scramble out of bed to see what disaster had happened as it was a long distance call! And ya only talked a minute as it was such a big deal and no one would dare talk loooong. So us kids knew something was really up and the call would be short. So we leaped out of bed to hear what our Mother was gonna say to Clarence. Sometimes it was just a friendly call about family. But always an emergency.

Sometimes the dinner would be heated again and again until everyone arrived around 2:00 in the afternoon. Finally we children would hear the cars rollin’ in and we would announce, as we looked out the front window, “They’re here! They’re here!” Then we would yell who it was. “Can we eat now?” we would ask.

“Now, you kids just wait until everyone gets in and gets their coats off and gets settled, and then we will eat,” our mothers always had to get after us.

Often Mother worried she didn’t make enough food and then all the relatives brought food galore. “Oh, you brought a pumpkin pie?” Mom would say, as she helped the aunts off with their coats. “Oh, I was afraid we wouldn’t have enough pie.” And, oh, what glorious dinners the women made. Oh, mercy! Several kinds of stuffings. Aunt Lilly wouldn’t eat a thing with an onion in it. So Mom always made Lilly’s dressing separate. But, oh, the fruit salads with the whipped cream were heavenly. My Dad had to have the old-fashioned cooked cranberry sauce. Nothing with oranges in it. No new recipes for cranberry sauce made him happy. My one aunt always made a salad with a secret salad dressing on it. She never gave us the recipe and, the whole dinner, the ladies would taste this dressing and try to guess what was in it. It tasted like the Dorthy Lynch dressing. But, oh, we would have loads of mashed potatoes and gravy and many vegetable casseroles.

And everyone was welcome. If someone didn’t have a place to go for Thanksgiving, then they were welcome to ours.

One thing the women never made in my extended family was bread. None of the women ever brought bread of any kind to a Thanksgiving dinner. The women said they didn’t need it with all the other good food. But, anyway, the standing joke with Dad was, when we were already to eat this wonderful feast, Dad would say,. “Velma, where’s the bread?” And Mom would get out her little bread plate and put it on the table and put a stack of white store bread on it.

And, oh, everyone would eat this heavenly food until they would burst. And after everyone left, just before supper around 5:00, my dad would say, “Velma, when is supper?”

And Mom would say, “Fran, how can you be hungry? We just ate all that food!”

I mean, we would eat desserts galore, too. Everyone was stuffed to the gillards.

But, too, when my family would arrive home and around 5:00 in the evening, Jim and the kids would ask me if we were gonna have supper. My family was always thin too but always ate at regular times. Back then, you didn’t eat a lot of snacks. You just ate 3 meals a day. I mean, except on Thanksgiving, and you ate at dinner and then steady until you went back home.

Men Love Pie

And, oh, back at the old time Thanksgivings, the men couldn’t wait to get a piece of pie. The cakes and apple crisps were passed over. The pies were the crowning glories of the Thanksgiving feasts. Pumpkin pie was the favorite but other pies would do. And when the pies were gone, then the other desserts were eaten.

And Mother was so giving and told folks to take leftovers home to their families. But Dad would whisper to Mom, “Don’t give away the pie!” My Dad loved pie and you would be in serious trouble if you got in between him and his pie. Often, if I brought a pie, I would leave Dad about a half the pie to eat later.

My pies, when the children were growing up, were terrible. But everyone ate them, anyway, as they all loved pie. Of course, with my pies, they just ate the inside and left the crust. They didn’t want to break their teeth off. I can make pies now and I will bring them to Mom’s dinner on Thanksgiving.

My milkman “Dick” many years ago told me of an old family recipe for pumpkin pie. He said the old time Mothers would take a raw pumpkin and slice it up and pile it high in the crusted pie plate. Then over the top, they would put a handful of flour and cinnamon and brown sugar, and a bit of butter. Then they would put the pie crust on the top, put slits in the crust, and bake the pie. It would be like an apple pie. It sounds delicious to me and I may try that. I made a zucchini pie like this one year and it tasted exactly like an apple pie. I think I added a bit of vinegar or lemon juice to it to give it a twang.

But pies. Pies, ladies! Make a pie for Thanksgiving for the men in your life. They will love ya for it.

Love and a Happy Thanksgiving to you all.

Sewing Doll Clothes

When I was a little girl, I loved my dolls. And this is where the homemaking spirit was first established in my life. I even told my mother once that I thought my one doll could breath. I had many baby dolls and, also, I had many what we called Story Book Dolls. These were little lady dolls and were not to play with. These dolls were just to look at. And my Aunt Lilly would crochet beautiful long dresses and smart hats for these dolls and matching purses, crocheted around a penny for the bottom of the purse.

Most women back in the 50’s who were housewives had an ongoing sewing project. Some of the women liked to do hand sewing the best. And some did more with their sewing machines. We little girls made a lot of hot pads for our mothers with the little square weaving looms? The stores still have them today. They are a fun craft for children. And you can make a lot of them and sew them together and make, like, a throw rag rug or place mats. But the women back then made a lot of knick-knacky stuff just for the sake of making something pretty.

One year for Christmas, my mother and my aunt bought a set of twin dolls for me and my cousin Diane. The Mothers just bought two dolls the same and called them twins. So I had two dolls the same and Diane two dolls the same. They were baby dolls so one didn’t have long hair like a girl — they were exactly alike. Anyway, Mom and Lilly got out Mom’s treadle sewing machine and spent the afternoon at our home sewing doll clothes for the two sets of twins. Boy and girl clothes for each set of twins. They also made pillows and mattresses and dolls’ blankets. Mother would cut out her material for a while and get ready to sew as Lilly used the machine. Then Lilly would be done and Mom would use the machine. They went back and forth like this all afternoon. Diane and I played in the floor with our dolls. Mom and Lilly just used old sewing scraps to make our doll clothes and accessories. Later on, Dad got home from work and everything had to be put away to start supper. But the few hours Mom and Lilly had to sew made a lot of doll clothes for Diane and me.

Now, to make simple doll clothes is not hard. Just get out some paper and draw a pattern. Just draw a dress and make it the same front and back. Sew the 2 pieces of cloth together and then hem it up. In the back by the neck, just cut a slit to get the dress on over dolly’s head. Then cut a hole on the slit for a button hole and sew a button on the opposite side. Then just hem the sleeves and the cut in the back. Mother always made her own button holes. Just cut a hole with your scissors. Then sorta hem the button hole? Mom would do the loop stitches around the button hole. I don’t remember Mom ever doing anything but that when she made button holes. With doll clothes, you don’t have to have them fit just right or make tucks and so on. Although my mother always did make tucks and gathers to fit the doll. But when I have made my girls doll clothes, I just did it very simply.

And it is a good idea if you are trying to think of a Christmas present for your daughter? Maybe you could buy two dolls just alike and call them twin babies.

Also, when I was a child, we would make cradles out of the round oatmeal boxes. We laid the box on its side and cut the middle part out for the baby to lay down. Then the box would rock, as you rocked it on its side, for baby doll. You could get real fancy with this and paste pretty cloth on it, and lace. I did this for Mary one year for her little Christmas doll. Well, I guess I have made many of these oatmeal box cradles, as I made them for Christian Joy, too, when she was little. We used to paste buttons on toys, too, with homemade paste.You could paste the buttons on the head of the cradle to fancy it up. We would just make household glue with water and white flour. Just make a paste out of it, stirring it up.

Wrestling With the Flesh

Ya know what? We often think our problems have to do with those around us? Yet the word of God tells us that we wrestle not with flesh and blood but with powers and principalities and wickedness in high places. We think we have a problem with our husband’s flesh. His bad moods, etc. Or our children’s flesh, their disobedience. But we don’t. We have a problem with powers and principalities and wickedness in high places. We have trouble with different demon forces who have order in the air. Satan is the prince of the power of the air.

Last night, Jim was at work and I read again the life story of John Bunyan. He was famous for writing Pilgrim’s Progress. I always tell the Lord I don’t have enough time to write, or the circumstances ain’t right, or you name it? Well Paul Bunyan wrote 60 books in 60 years. And most of what he wrote was in a damp cold England prison.

Some of us on here do some serious suffering, like Jen. But, ya know, it is that suffering that brings the best out of us? We suffer to understand His sufferings. And just beyond the suffering, Jesus was raised from the dead? He never died and is still alive this 2000 some years later. He did not allow Satan to run His life. Jesus understood his opponent, His enemy. This is how He could forgive those who nailed Him to the cross. He understood that it was Satan’s scheme and yet, in the end, Satan was playing into the hands of God. Satan wished later he had not tried to kill Jesus. Jesus’ death gave us eternal life. And it is like this in our lives as Christian wives and mothers.

Nothing happens by accident. It only happens by accident as we are the accident in God’s plan. When we give up on God, or we stop believing in the middle of His plan, then His dream for our lives is aborted. Satan tries to make us give up and give in, ya know? He puts horrid circumstances in our lives and gives us excuses to call it quits. He gives our husband a bad mood or causes him to do something to tip us off. We get our eyes on the flesh around us and cry “Uncle.” But what is the bigger picture? Why does Satan come after us and try to scare the livin’ poop out of us? Well, for the same reason he came after Mary, Jesus’ mother. He don’t want us to bear fruit for Jesus.

We are creators as women but, as Christian women, we are more than just creators of the flesh and blood. We are creators of bodies that will most likely hold the Holy Spirit in them. Each child we create and bring up for the Lord gives Jesus Christ life and a place to express Himself. We are hunted and oppressed. We are made to feel discouraged and intimidated. We are misunderstood. We live much like Mary did as she hid in order to give birth to Christ.

Jen, right now, as you show your children that you reverence your husband in these unbearable days, as you show them your faith and how not to give up, you are handing them gold and silver every day. Pure holy gold that they can see nowhere else in this world. Don’t despise small beginnings. You are raising children that will speak from the housetop what you have told them in a secret chamber of suffering. It works like that, Jen.

Almost everything I write on here is from what God told me in the darkness. Alane asked me once how I could have so much to say so early in the morning. It’s not my own thoughts. It is the messages I got from Jesus after a night in prayer. And as I come here to my keyboard by faith, He reminds me of what He has told me.

Well, duty calls me this morning. But I have to say. Know the will of God in your life and live it out no matter who thinks what. Don’t give up or give in. Don’t throw your life for God away just because Satan has pressed you to the sure point of no return. Know that many Christians in the world are suffering in prisons for their faith. We as Christians have suffered, too, but in a different way. But we, too, must be found faithful.

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