It's a Wonderful Life, Isn't It?



What grace we are given to live each day, to touch others’ lives, and to be

touched by the lives of those around us. The Christmas season is always a

time of reflection for me. How did I make a difference in the lives of my family,

my friends, or even of strangers whose paths have crossed with mine? Did I

help them along in their journey through life or did I hinder their growth in

some way?

I have always been a very traditional person. I treasure the values and the

truths instilled in me since childhood. I love the traditional candlelight services

at Church on Christmas Eve, spending the holidays with family and friends, and

I even take special pleasure in giving and receiving gifts. Yet, in the midst of

celebration, I often wonder why and how my life is important in the grand

scheme of God’s plan. 

There have been numerous books written and movies made that help the lead character examine how the world would be different if they had not been a part of it. Of course, one of my very favorites is Frank Capra’s “It’s a Wonderful Life”. To some this movie is slow, outdated, a good film to fall asleep to, or to poke fun at. Although for me, this movie seeks to help us all understand how the smallest kindness or the least likely encounter can truly change another person’s life.

We are given but a short span of time to carry out God’s plan .We live our lives each day taking it for granted that we will still be around the next day, the next moment, the next second. This is the way we should live our lives, not in fear of death, but in pursuit of life and of life everlasting. I can think back through the many relationships and friendships I’ve built in my life, and know that not only have I impacted their lives, but they have also left their imprint upon mine. Some moments I would love to be able to go back and “do over”. There are words I’ve regretted saying and words I’ve regretted not saying. Sometimes a chance to share only comes around once, and then is forever gone.

Each day we are offered opportunities to change lives, to show the love of Christ to others, and to give of ourselves. Should we accost each person we meet and try to force our beliefs upon them? Would this make a difference or would it scare others away? If we follow in the footsteps of Christ, we can see the pattern his life took. He gave freely of himself each day. His love was not overt, not pushy, but through simple acts of kindness he drew multitudes to their knees. Christ performed many miracles in his short reign on Earth, but to me it was his honesty, his kindness, his spirit of love that drew his disciples to follow him.

I believe in miracles. I believe they happen every moment. I believe my very existence is a miracle of grace. Through this grace I too must offer God’s love to those around me. It might be a mere smile or even opening a door for someone. At times, it might be redirecting someone’s footsteps back along the path of righteousness.

I am not a prophet, I am most definitely not a perfect person, I am merely a small breath of God’s love that exists in his world. And though I strive to follow in his footsteps, I often stumble. Yet, as I reflect back over my “wonderful life” I realize that even through many times of trouble and many times of joy, it is how I cope with each event that reflects to the world the person I am in Christ. As I travel through each day of my life I can offer my friends and family the love which lives within me through Christ. To those lives mine gently brushes, I can offer small acts of kindness to share a little glow of Christ’s love with them.

And so, as my ramble concludes, I offer these simple yet powerful words as my Christmas gift to you.

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New International Version (©1984)
"For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have everlasting life."



​Merry Christmas & blessings to all,

Susan

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Mama, don't let your babies grow up to be cowgirls



{Mama don't let your babies grow up to be cowboys
Don't let 'em pick guitars and drive them old trucks
Make 'em be doctors and lawyers and such…} {{Willie Nelson}}



A few days ago my sister and I spent some time with Willie and Family

(at a concert of course!), and this led my my wandering thoughts down

the road of memories ...

​

Back in the day, there was nothing I wanted more than to be a real

cowgirl. Each Saturday morning I waited excitedly to watch Dale Evans,

Roy Rogers, and the Lone Ranger ride out in all their glory on our black

and white Zenith television. After watching them save the west one more

time, my sister and I would strap on our six shooters and cowboy hats,

head out to the backyard and began our own heroic adventures. We had

quite good imaginations and could turn just about anything into what we

needed it to be at that moment. When we were cowgirls, we needed our

horses. Most times, the real ones weren't readily handy, so we'd just climb

up on our "tree branch" horses and start out on a nice long ride. We had

some amazing adventures as we galloped down our imaginary roads. My

memories of where we would "ride" are pretty vague, but I do remember that on most of our rides we'd end up singing all our favorite cowboy songs. There were quite a few that we heard every day played on our "RCA stereo". My dad was a big fan of Johnny Cash and the Sons of the Pioneers, and my mom listened to her country station every morning as we ate breakfast and got ready for school. So our repertoire was extensive. If I remember rightly,  we usually always ended with "Happy Trails" about the time our mom would call us in for lunch.



Our early cowgirl days were mostly created from television shows, stories we'd been told, and songs we'd heard along the way. Then one afternoon when I was in first grade, I came home to find a real live horse tied to our clothesline in the backyard. My sister and my dad had gone to an auction in a nearby town and found a beautiful, older paint, which we named Buttermilk. I'm not sure why, but I'm sure we had good reason to at the time. We were so excited to have a real, live horse to ride around our yard and neighborhood. It was still quite rural in those days, and so we were able to keep Buttermilk in our backyard for a spell.



A short time later, our dad took us a few miles out of town to a beautiful little spot that sat up on a small hill just off the main road. We were delighted when he told us he'd purchased ten acres, so we could take longer rides. We soon acquired another pony, which was named Sugar. Sugar was anything but her namesake. We'd learned to saddle and bridle Buttermilk. Brush him down after our rides, and take care of his creature comforts. Now Sugar was another matter altogether. My dad did a lot of bartering in those days, and he'd bartered with a man who'd bought Sugar from a traveling circus. Obviously, looking back on it now, this little shetland had led a hard life. My dad always wanted us to know how to handle a horse, how to saddle it, take care of its tack, its hoofs, and all the necessities of horse ownership. Our first few experiences trying to saddle Sugar were not quite successful. We'd get the saddle blanket and saddle in place, tighten up the girth, and ride a short distance. Unbeknown to us, Sugar had puffed out her belly making the saddle girth appear to be tightly fit around her. Once you were on her, she'd let out her breath and surprise... the saddle slipped sideways. She seemed to enjoy the game, and she always had a nice little nip waiting for you once the saddle slipped down. At least she didn't run off with us sitting sideways in the saddle. She'd just placidly nibble on the grass as we climbed up and out of the stirrups. After a few false starts, we learned it was best to give her a gentle slap on her side before we saddled her, so she'd let out her breath.

​

Riding out at "The Place" was a weekend and summer joy. A memory of closeness with my sister, my dad, and God's glorious world around us. Memories can spring up from the most unexpected places. Things you'd thought you had forgotten, but have been buried deep within your heart. This was a time of innocence, a time of growing, and a very special memory in my life.

​Blessings always,

​Susan





Thanksgiving Favorites -Mom's Cornbread Dressing

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​Dressing or Stuffing... That is the Question!

Thanksgiving brings many things to mind each year. In fact, it is my

all time favorite holiday. I love the warmth of spending time with

family and friends. Everyone offering their thanks for the blessings

received during the past year, as well as offering thanks for the day

and future days to come. It is a time when generations gather

together to bond once more. Thanksgiving is a day when our

family can come together without the pressures of gifts, enjoy

delicious food, family, and football (please excuse the Cowboys

this year… they had to play poorly in order to let the Rangers

shine!) LOL! The game will still be on, although my husband is not allowed to touch the remote control - or any electronics for that matter… he gets a little too excited when they don’t make the right plays, which puts the remote in grave danger! Me, I could care less. How I became so passive in sports when everyone else in my family is so involved, I’ll never know.



My mind wanders… my mom’s cornbread dressing was kept a strictly guarded secret for years. Finally, several years ago when she was no longer able to handle Thanksgiving on her own, she decided to pass the recipe down to her own children. Today, I’m going to share it with you. I hope you decide to try it. If you’re not from the south it may be different from what you’re used to, but I promise, it is well worth trying. I’ll also include her recipe for turkey, although I’ve adapted this to fit my busy lifestyle. The dressing I can’t give up making because it’s become a tradition my daughter and I do together… that bonding moment you know.



Ah the debate… is it dressing or stuffing? Every Thanksgiving as I make dressing to go with our turkey, my daughter loves to debate that we shouldn’t call it dressing because the proper name is stuffing! It’s become a part of our tradition because in my southern family we’ve always made dressing. Some of her friends that originated from the northern states make stuffing; so of course, she had to adapt to what was popular with her friends. This mild debate goes on every year, yet it abated somewhat the year we “stuffed” the turkey with white bread stuffing instead of our traditional dressing. That totally changed her mind and her desire to fervently debate the difference between dressing and stuffing. Our definition of the difference between dressing and stuffing: dressing is baked separately from the turkey in its own pan, and then set out to “dress up” the turkey, while stuffing is baked inside the turkey and dug out of the bird before served.



Now everyone has their own idea of the perfect Thanksgiving accompaniments for their turkey, but in our home the dressing has always been more desired than all else, including the prized turkey. Not to be disrespectful to those who prefer stuffing, but we’ve been very disappointed when “subjected” to this northern bread stuffing. While this is fine for those folks that grew up with the white bread and sage variety, for us there is nothing to compare to my mom’s recipe for southern cornbread dressing. Moist, herb flavored, slightly sweet; this dressing is the perfect accompaniment to turkey, cranberry sauce, mashed potatoes and gravy. Other side dishes beware because they will be shunned in favor of the dressing, gravy, and turkey.

I hope you enjoy… Mom’s Cornbread Dressing recipe (not stuffing!)

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Mom’s Cornbread Dressing Recipe (not stuffing!)



Preheat oven to 400⁰

1 large skillet or pan of cornbread (cooked at least 1 day before making dressing)

8 slices of white bread (2 to 3 days old)

¾ c. diced celery

1 small or ½ large onion diced

1 small apple diced

2 eggs (uncooked)

1 tsp. salt (or to taste)

½ tsp. pepper (or to taste)

5 tsp. sage (or to taste)

5 c. turkey broth or more until mixture is really moistened.

Crumble cornbread and tear white bread into small pieces. Place in large mixing bowl and combine with all other ingredients. Mix well, then pour into casserole dish and bake until top is brown and crunchy. Inside of dressing should still be very moist.



Mom’s Thanksgiving Turkey Recipe



12 to 14 lb. turkey

Salt or garlic salt

Pepper

Rosemary & Thyme

Remove the giblets and the neck from inside the turkey

Wash the turkey thoroughly inside and out

Liberally season the turkey inside and out with salt or garlic salt and pepper

Add a sprig or two of rosemary  and/or  thyme inside the turkey

Fill the roasting pan ½ full of water and carefully place prepared turkey in pan. Cover and bake at 350⁰ for 5 to 6 hours or until turkey is well-done. Check often and keep the water level in the pan at ½ full. Finally, to crisp and brown the skin remove the lid from the roasting pan, remove the turkey and place it on a foil covered baking sheet. Turn the oven temperature up to 400⁰ and continue baking until the skin is crisp and brown - 30 to 40 minutes. Retain the broth in the roasting pan to make the gravy.

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Mom’s Turkey Gravy



Turkey broth

Boiled eggs

5 heaping tbsp. flour

Cooled broth (about 1 cup)

Bring 4 to 5 cups turkey broth to a boil. Add finely chopped boiled eggs to boiling broth. Combine flour and cooled broth in a glass until all flour has dissolved. Slowly add this mixture to the boiling broth; stirring constantly. Bring gravy to a slow, bubbly medium boil and cook until thickened; stirring occasionally.

Remember, everything can be prepared the day before. You can make the dressing and refrigerate it overnight, then stick it in the oven to bake Thanksgiving morning. Cook the turkey the day before, then place it in the oven for the final browning 45 minutes or so before lunch. The gravy needs to be made right before dinner is served, but you can do what I do and let your sister make it!

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We try to make Thanksgiving a time to share together and not a day to spend away from our family just cooking and cleaning. Therefore, our tradition has evolved and everyone brings a dish to share, and we serve everything on fine "Chinette" with esquisite plastic ware. We then make sure to clean our plates completely before placing the "dishes" in the recycling bin. And there's always time later during or after the game to sample one or more pies! Have a relaxed and blessed Thanksgiving Day!



Blessings Always,                                                                                                                    

Susan

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The Power of Words 

 



Tonight, as the rain continues to fall, the thirsty ground

quickly soaks up these precious drops of moisture and

stores what it needs to survive during the long, hot days

of summer. As the rain pelts against the window panes, I

watch mesmerized as large droplets slowly slide down the

glass. The sound of the rain soothes and comforts me,

and I feel safe within the walls of my own home. I

contemplate getting up and taking care of all the “things”

that await my attention, and yet I linger and daydream.
“Words” are on my mind, or more specifically, the power

of words. I ponder this because I know how amazing and

how detrimental words can be. As an author, my words

reach many. I feel a deep responsibility to represent not

only the character of the “characters” in my book, but to

let my words represent my innermost being. I desire to

entertain my readers, as well as depict compassion, strength, determination, and faith throughout the pages of my book.

One word spoken or written can create great happiness or utter despair in others. I write from my heart, from the very depths of my soul because writing is an integral part of who I am. In the real world, I earn my living as a teacher, and in this capacity, the words I speak are even more important than those I write. Each day in the classroom, I must try to teach young minds all they need to learn in order to “pass” to the next grade. During the short time I have a student in my class I pray my words and my actions demonstrate compassion, strength, determination, and faith.

I have been given a very great power. A power that at times I wish I didn’t have. Regardless of a child’s home life, teachers are empowered as role models for their students. The younger the child, the more they look to the teacher for guidance. A child’s self-esteem, desire to learn, even their need to be noticed and cared about is balanced by words. One word of kindness can motivate a child, while one unkind word can crush a child’s spirit.
As the rain falls, my thoughts drift back to my own school days. How powerful words can be to a child. So many years have gone by, yet certain memories remain permanently etched in my mind. I would like to say all my memories are positive ones, but I can’t. There were teachers who often criticized me for being a dreamer, while others nurtured the dreamer within me. I was not always the most motivated of students. I always did just enough to get by, even though I had the ability to be so much more. It wasn’t until high school that a teacher lit a spark within me that drew me to become who I am now. One small sentence, one kind word, spoken at a time in my life when I desperately needed reassurance changed the course of my life.

Words…Did my life change overnight because of one person’s gentle words? The answer is no, but it did begin the metamorphosis within me. Am I who I have become today because of her words. Possibly, because that day a simple spoken word of kindness helped me begin to believe in myself. Each day, as words are written or spoken the thirsty soul quickly soaks up these precious drops and stores what it needs to survive during the long, hard days of life.



Blessings to all,

Susan

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A Simple Faith


A long time ago, I made a decision to become a “Christian”. To me

it seemed a simple step. I was only ten; all I had to do was what I

saw many others before me do. I would walk down the aisle of our

church, talk to the pastor, and declare that today I was saved. I

had a simple faith, the belief of a child. My belief was innate. God

was and always had been God. An omnipresent part of my every

day world. I didn’t question how or why the stars were in the sky.

I just knew and believed that God placed them there to sparkle

beautifully just for me.



From the time I was born, I attended church on Sunday mornings, Sunday nights, and Wednesday evenings. God lived at church and he always came home with me each time I left the church building. I knew I carried God in my heart. It had to be true because every Sunday we sang “Into my heart, into my heart, come into my heart Lord Jesus”. I believed those words with the fierce belief of a child, never wavering in the “shadows of doubt”.
My life was by no means perfect, and I was by no means perfect. Many of my life’s experiences should have shaken my faith; my belief in God’s unfailing love. Yet, even through the darkest parts of my life, I always knew; always felt, God’s presence surrounding me and guiding me to make the “right” choices. I only needed to wait upon that still, quiet voice whispering within me. Sometimes I chose to shut out the voice, and I would stumble frequently. Nevertheless, God’s loving presence would still be there, helping me pick up the pieces and begin again.

Throughout the years, I’ve heard testimonies from friends, co-workers, and even strangers who declare they have never heard the word of God, nor set foot in a church. Some are hungry to hear about God, while others turn a deaf ear to the word. I know I’m one of the lucky few because my faith stems from a firm foundation: my mother and her sisters. My mom kept us actively engaged in church, as well as through her music. She wrote many songs that carried the message of God’s love to all who heard them. Although she spoke at many meetings, I believe God’s gift in her life was writing songs of inspiration. She and her sisters traveled to many places together and each in their own way shared God’s love with all they met.
My mother’s gift of writing has also been gifted to me. It is my hope, my prayer that through my words on the page of a book, those in need of healing, of knowing God, will be drawn into his fold. My desire is that as others read my novel, they will come to understand that God has always been beside them throughout their whole life, just waiting for them to stop and listen to that still, soft voice. And I pray that they too will accept Christ with the simple belief and faith of a child.

One last thought before I go. I’d like to share a special memory I have regarding one of my mom’s songs. Her first album (yes, album in those days!) was released when my daughter was two. She heard the songs almost every day and sang along with her Gramma’s record. Around the time she turned six, as she was playing happily with her friends on the playground, she suddenly rushed over to me, her arms folded irately, and declared, “C. told me there’s no such thing as a rainbow of love!” I assured her there was, and she stated, “I knew I was right!” Then she charged back to her friends and “straightened” them out.
This example only illustrates the simple faith and belief a child has that God is covering them with his covenant, his rainbow of love. I’d like to share just a verse from my mom’s song “Covenant of Love”.

“God’s love is so wonderful, his peace so serene, I walk in green pastures, I drink in his stream. A river that’s flowing with his grace from above, I’m covered in his rainbow of love. The rainbows of promise God gave to man, he called it his covenant that would forever stand. When I see a rainbow in the clouds up above, then I know that I’m covered in his rainbow of love.”
~ Nita Owen ©1982

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As Christians we are commanded to “Go forth and spread the good news”. I hope I have accomplished this, and that today you have felt God’s love through the power of the written word.

Blessings to all,
Susan