Thanksgiving in the Midst of Unrest

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By Ashlie Miller

Like many parents of young children, I took my youngest two children and a neighbor to the Cabarrus Arena’s Touch a Truck event last weekend. In addition to touching the trucks and other vehicles, there were many opportunities to express gratitude – even though that was not our plan for attending. There were also a lot of opportunities to receive candy or marketing swag – stress balls, pencils, frisbees, and the like. Rather than telling my kids to say “thank you,” I try to lead with, “What do we say to someone who gives us something?” We also tried to thank each civic member for their contribution – often unseen or considered – to our daily lives. Thankfully, by now, more often than not, they remember to do so without much prompting, but like most humans, in a sea of candy and freebies, it is easy to walk with a sense of entitlement, leaving the gratitude behind. 

It seems we need a reminder to be grateful in our own country these days. Last year, I discussed the space between the skeletons and the trees – Thanksgiving gets crowded out. We are a people with a flair for the sensational. Both Halloween and Christmas fulfill that for many. Do we know what to do with a much quieter holiday with less fanfare? Is it a necessary holiday anyway?

Have we forgotten that the days of our nation’s conception were moments of gratitude – surviving fatal winters, accepting help and advice from native Americans, and being in a place that promised many freedoms? We have. But we are not alone. Did you know that it was not until 1863 – the middle of the Civil War – that a lady named Sara Josepha Hale implored the current president to establish a nationally recognized day of Thanksgiving on the same day for all states? Guess which president conceded to her requests for a day of common unity built on gratitude and gathering – President Lincoln. Of course, this was amid our nation’s saddest times – with brother against brother, neighbor against neighbor. Lincoln likely was already searching for something to repair the breach, to be a balm. Mrs. Hale’s letter led him to the proclamation of a day where shared experiences of gratitude and acknowledging a reliance upon an Almighty Power was an excellent place to start. He was right.

Would President Lincoln remind us of the same need for this moment of shared gratitude and gathering this Thanksgiving? We need it more today than most of us realize or would concede to. Already, I see Christians and non-Christians alike spewing hate and disgust at those across the aisle, or more closely – down the street – because of differently expressing their right and privilege to vote. I have even read resolutions not to share Thanksgiving with those of differing opinions.

How does something like gratitude help us? In the grand design of life and history, it brings us all to an understanding of who we are, or more importantly, who we are not. It recognizes we are all vulnerable and dependent on someone, though many do not yet know Who that is. For the Christian, the gratitude goes outward and upward. All we have is a gift from above. Even all the things we have that we do not want are gifts if they bring us to a place of humility, contentment, and recognition that we can live through any season or election result that comes our way. That’s worth giving thanks for.

Ashlie Miller and her family enjoy friendsgiving and Thanksgiving meals (and day-after sandwiches!) in Concord, Salisbury, and NC beaches. You may contact her at mrs.ashliemiller@gmail.com.

Pastor Appreciation

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By Doug Creamer

            October is traditionally Pastor Appreciation month. At our church we tend to run a little late celebrating our pastor. The reason for that can be found by looking in the mirror. I take on the responsibility of organizing and orchestrating our event. Every year October sneaks up on me and then I have to try to figure out how we are going to honor our pastor. I like to create a mixture of fun and laughter followed by some heart-felt thanks and appreciation for all that our pastor and his wife do for us as a church family.

            I am lucky because our pastor’s kids, who are all adults, always have great ideas for what we can do to honor their parents. They suggest ways we can incorporate some funny moments into our special presentation. His kids, their spouses, and a handful of others who are willing to participate in some fun have worked together to create some memorable pastor appreciation events.

            This year ranks among my favorites. The pastor’s wife read a book to their kids called Flat Stanley. Stanley accidently gets flattened to paper thin and goes on many adventures that continue through a series of books. His kids thought it would be fun if we took a picture of the pastor and then have members of our congregation take him on adventures. It was a great idea which our congregation embraced. Our members took Flat Pastor on many wonderful and memorable adventures. I created a slideshow that had everyone, including the pastor, laughing with delight.

            We then had some members share heart-warming tributes for both our pastor and his wife. When you follow that with a delicious covered dish lunch, it made for a wonderful day. I wanted to be sure our pastor and his wife knew how much we love and appreciate them. We shared many laughs, great food, and wonderful fellowship, all while honoring and blessing our pastor and his wife.

            I have been lucky in my spiritual life. I have had a number of great pastors who invested in my life and helped me become the man of God that I am today. I have also been fortunate enough to become friends with several pastors and assistant pastors. Those are treasured friendships. It is nice to share a meal with the pastor and just talk about everyday life. It has also been both an honor and a privilege to listen to them when they needed to talk.

            Pastors are there for each of us as we go through the ups and downs of life. If I am celebrating some great news, my pastors have always celebrated with me. When I have found myself struggling with making decisions, self-doubt, worry, fear, anxiety, or whatever else was standing in my way, my pastors have always been there to gently guide me through the storms.

            Our pastors are called upon to be there for births, weddings, sicknesses, hospital stays, funerals, and whatever challenge or disaster comes our way. They show up for us. They are there for us. They speak words of comfort. They pray for us. They counsel us. They encourage us. They challenge us to live up to our best selves. They know our sins and secrets and still love us. They come after us if we wander away from the church. We are all lucky and blessed to have our pastors in our lives.

            I think sometimes we forget that they are people just like us. They have to bury their loved ones. They have to go to hospitals for themselves and their family. They have worries, fears, and doubts. They suffer from rejection when people walk away. They have bad days because they are worried about us. Their kids struggle with life and growing up. Their kids stumble and fall. They are sometimes overloaded with our burdens.

            I want to encourage you to take a few minutes to let your pastors know how much you love and appreciate them. Pray for them like you want them to pray for you. Send them a card that includes a gift card for something they will enjoy. See if there is something you can do to help them at church or at home just to bless them. Is there something you can do for their spouse to bless and encourage them? Do it! Surprise them. Bless them. Encourage them. Find something you can do, whether it’s through words, deeds, or financially, to show them how much you love and care for them and their families. Let’s be a blessing and show appreciation to our pastors.

Contact Doug Creamer at PO Box 777, Faith, NC 28041or doug@dougcreamer.com

The Unnamed Women

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By Roger Barbee

The recent election of Senator Kamala Harris to the Vice-Presidency of the United States of America has elicited many remarks about a woman, a black woman, a child of immigrants, being elected to such a position. In her speech last night,  Madam Harris paid tribute to her mother who inspired her, and she applauded the possibilities for young girls made possible by her election.

The list of women mentioned as trailblazers for such a moment is long, and there are too many names to list here. But rest assured that it is a list of female warriors who fought for their rights and the rights of all who would follow them. They are legion.

As I watched and listened to the celebrations yesterday and the two speeches last night, I named names of all the female warriors I could remember. But one name kept returning, and I scanned a bookshelf for In Search for Our Mothers’ Gardens. The 1972 book is the first of non-fiction by Alice Walker, and I was searching in it for a particular poem that Walker introduces by these words: “This poem is not enough, but it is something, for the women who literally covered the holes in our walls with sunflowers.” She then shares her poem titled Women.

They were women then

My mama’s generation

Husky of voice—stout of

Step

With fists as well as

Hands

How they battered down

Doors

And ironed

Starched white

Shirts

How they led

Armies

Headragged generals

Across mined

Fields

Booby-trapped

Ditches

To discover books

Desks

A place for us

How they knew what we

Must know

Without knowing a page

Of it

Themselves.

Madam Harris said in her speech last night that while she is the first female to achieve the Vice-presidency, she will not be the last. The path she and all the other females is lined with the names known, but Walker’s poem reminds us that there were many “Headragged generals” who led their children across fields “To discover books” and to find “A place for us.”

So yes, let the known names be called across the land. Their work and success needs to be recognized and celebrated. However, let the battles of the unnamed be remembered as well. They, too, contributed, and Madam Harris stands on their shoulders.

Why We Run & Why It Matters

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By David Freeze

Why We Run and Why It Matters

  I’ve been running since 1979 and have probably missed less than 15 days on average during most of those years. Four years had no misses, in 2023, I missed five.  Every so often, someone comes out with a book or an amazing article that tries to answer the question about why we run. I teach running classes twice a year and often use some of my own thoughts in the hope that the participants will be inspired to keep going.

   But the perspective deepens when for some reason we can’t run. A few days that come with sickness and or an injury have a short-term light at the end of the tunnel. In my case, I have missed running for five months and one week so far while desperately waiting to resume my favorite activity. I actually dreamed about running one night and it seemed so free and easy. I woke up and remembered the dream, wondering if I could recapture the magic.

    My day needs running. My accident happened on May 15th. I walked .17 miles on June 1st and gradually was able to increase those walks to a level that guarantees some level of fitness. Still nothing beats an early morning run for me. Here is why.

    For me, running is more than a mere choice. It’s even beyond my control, almost like some sort of good addiction. My best times and occasional race wins were years ago, so I am long past running for trophies. Still an occasional morning run would make me remember some of the long-ago speed.  

     Knowing that I could get up and go out for an early morning run has always made me happy. In the early morning, I am away from the crowds with only the sounds of my feet and enhanced awareness of all things around me. Once the sweating starts, the brain seems to reach a higher level and solutions to many problems seem so easy. So I run, for my own mental therapy and escape. Or I run without concerns and enjoy putting my thoughts into a positive project. Most days, I am ready to take on the world at the end of a good 5-6 mile run. My confidence is often at its highest point of the day.

     I love being around runners and running events, even when I hadn’t been able to run for these months. Many of my best friends came from running, either from competing with them or from just friendly coaching or training runs. Helping out with school meets is a great way to watch the new entrants into local running and racing. It’s hard for me to meet a running I don’t like.

     But the biggest reason that I want to be able to keep running is that I don’t want to find out what will happen if I have to quit. The low pulse rate and the narrow waist along with all the other health benefits are just a side effect. I learned long ago that the only regrets in my daily life are those mornings that I don’t get up and run. Cold rain or a short night due to an early or late commitment isn’t good enough to negate all the prior benefits I’ve listed.

      Each run tops off my life with energy and optimism. And the cool down walk at the end is the best prayer time on the planet for me. And finally, as I know now, not everyone is able to do this.

      Sunday afternoon has the Spooky Sprint 5K and Fun Run at 2pm at Catawba College, this year on a new and faster course, and the costume contest following is open to every participant. The Rowan Rotary continues their hot streak on spectacular weather.

     Look for this and other upcoming events at www.salisburyrowanrunners.org

Being Happy

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By Ed Traut

Philippians 4:4 Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice!

  • So often it feels not to be rejoicing or excited when we have so many challenges but;
  • There is strength and power in praise and rejoicing.
  • To rejoice in God and the Lord, because He never changes, He is our strength.

Prayer:  Lord I choose and I live to worship You and to rejoice today, I lift my hands in excitement and rejoicing to You because You are God regardless of what I am going through or what surrounds me, You are my strength.  Amen.

Ed Traut
Prophetic Life

That’s What It’s All About

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By Lynna Clark

I started physical therapy at home this week. My trainer comes online and tells me what to do. I say “trainer” like I’m Rocky Balboa. Oh! Or Livvy Dunne, the beautiful gymnast. It might take a few more sessions but… Truth is, ‘trainer’ just sounds better than “professional dude in a lab coat.” A girl’s gotta protect her image. But really, there’s no need. The fact that I am NOT a physically fit person is an understatement. [See previous article “The Cure.] But I like this guy. His name is Chuck and he’s old enough to know stuff. Plus, and this is a big bonus, he makes me laugh. I stood behind a straight back chair as he instructed. “Now put your right foot out to the side.”

I looked into my laptop camera and asked. “Are we doing the Hokey Pokey?” He nodded. “You know, I used to be addicted to the Hokey Pokey.” I gasped at his serious confession. “What did you do?” I asked.

He beamed proudly. “I turned myself around.”

I laughed at his “confession” then added. “I guess you found out that the Hokey Pokey is really NOT what it’s all about.” Like the polite person he is, he chuckled at my sad attempt at humor.

Later as we finished up, he explained that he’d be sending an email with instructions on simple exercises I could do to get my strength back. Because he mentioned he was calling from Morganton, but he and his wife normally live in Asheville, I asked how bad the recent flooding was near his home. He sighed.

“We were without power for nine days. But I hate to even say that out loud as I think of all that my neighbors have been through. So many have lost everything, even the land their homes were built on. Whole towns are just no more.” He mentioned places that David and I have visited before that were swept completely away. “BUT!” He brightened. “You cannot imagine the huge outpouring of kindness from complete strangers. Folks have been so good. It renews my faith in mankind.”

And that dear reader, is truly what it’s all about.

Let’s love the Lord our God with all our heart, and our neighbors as ourselves.

The Rhythm of Rest

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By Ashlie Miller

At the expense of offending lovers of spring, summer, and winter, I submit the following: 

Of all the seasons in the South (at least in NC), it seems that most of my friends are the most vocal about their love for autumn. Perhaps it is because the agonizing heat finally subsides – or at least hints at the prospects. Maybe it is because avenues of trees create a cozy canopy with flecks of gold or deep reds carpeting the walkway. “It feels like walking through a favorite movie,” I read someone post. Of course, the accessories of loose sweaters, favorite jeans, flannels, maybe a book, and a warm cup of tea or coffee add to the aesthetic. We cannot forget the long bucket list of seasonal must-dos – apple orchards, pumpkin farms, corn mazes, fall festivals, hikes, and road trips. 

Many of us must remember another essential part of fall – preparation for rest. We know the squirrels, chipmunks, and less adorable creatures are preparing for rest. However, it is not uncommon to hear a child pipe up with the misconception of plants dying as they lose their leaves. I confess I have fallen into the accidental slip of the tongue when speaking of plants “dying” in the fall. Of course, they are not dying but merely preparing for rest. 

To add to the confusion, the autumn landscape serves as an unfortunate backdrop to things that truly do resemble death – ginormous skeletons, ghosts, monsters, and cobwebs (both real and purchased for decor). I will be thankful when the landscape no longer has to compete with the symbols of the macabre or occult and can gleam more brilliantly as the jewel-toned shades of scarlet, amber, and topaz. 

As we dust away or throw out those cobwebs, take a moment to reflect on preparing for a season of rest. What a novel idea lost in our busy Western culture – a desire many crave but have buried deep within their souls while attempting to be more productive. In all except the extreme climates, autumn is a rule of nature – a time for shorter days, harvest, migration, and early days of hibernation. We would be wise to take note of this preparation amongst the more humble species. 

Consider the many health benefits that arise from this season. Though gaining an hour of sleep this weekend will throw many into havoc, the extra sleep is helpful to most of us. I love to get into “comfy clothes,” as we call them, at home and read books or play board games after an early supper. I am more likely to go for longer walks or attempt a game of pickleball with my sons. Perhaps I will nosh on one of the many apples from the orchard we visited or busy myself in the kitchen making chicken noodle soup from scratch to boost my immune system. I embrace a little more relaxation and feel my stresses melt away (or at least have a soothing outlet). I do not think it is only because I recharge best as an introvert that I feel at my best in this season. I believe it is part of the laws of nature. 

The long for rest is a gift from above. Rest is good. And for those who believe in Christ as Lord, there is a promise of lasting rest. It will be better than the coziest autumn and snuggliest of winter months. It will be a life-giving time of service, not just a respite from weariness. 

Ashlie Miller and her husband make time for restful moments with their family in Concord, NC. You may contact her at mrs.ashliemiller@gmail.com.

Time Moves On

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By Doug Creamer

            If congress decides to keep us on daylight savings time I would be in favor of that decision. I am not a fan of moving the clocks back in the fall. I like it to stay light as late as possible. Part of the reason for that is that I take my walks late in the evening, especially in the summer months. Many times when I get back from my walk in the winter it is dark.

            The fall colors were beautiful as I walked today. There was a little nip in the air. We have been very lucky with the beautiful weather this fall. I think spring and fall are my favorite times of the year because the days are warm and the nights are cool. I was thinking while I was walking today how quickly time passes. The holiday season is almost here and before we know it another year will be over.  

            I heard an ad on TV the other day that proclaimed that as we age time becomes a more precious commodity. Naturally, the company wanted the consumer to spend their time and money on their products. Their point is true. Our time here is limited and we need to make conscious choices on how we use this scarce resource. We are all given a certain amount of time and the way we use or waste it will affect how we reflect back on it when we are older.

            We all spend time working when we are young. We make money to pay for food, clothing, and shelter. I was a teacher and I spent many more hours than the school day doing my job. I spent many hours working, but learned late in my career how to balance my work and personal time better. I don’t know anyone who is retired that wishes they had worked longer hours during their career.

             I am partially retired and enjoying the extra time that affords me. I was reading in Genesis recently that some of the first people lived multiple hundreds of years. God decided to shorten our lifespan. I also read that when Caleb was 85 he was a valiant warrior who fought for his territory in the Promised Land. Joshua lived to be 110. Regardless of our health and the many blessings of God, we all have a limited amount of time here.

            Life has a way of getting busy in the limited time we are granted. I find that time flies during the holiday season. There are too many places to be and too many things to do. In recent years, I have made a conscious choice to be present in special moments when I am spending time with family and friends. I have a deep desire to connect with those I love and create memories that will last a lifetime. I want to invest my time in my family and friends.

Since we know that time is moving along quickly we should be motivated to connect with God. His invitation to spend eternity with Him has to be accepted before we depart from this world. It’s our decision and He wants us to choose Him. After choosing Him, we need to invest time praying, reading His Word, and talking with Him. It is the most valuable investment of our time. It will pay us dividends throughout eternity.

Time’s limitations will not exist in eternity, but they exist here. If you have accepted your gift of salvation and your reservation in heaven, then I want to remind you of the importance of extending that invitation to your family and friends. We don’t want them to miss out on an eternity with God because they didn’t make the most important decision of their lives. God wants a relationship with every person, but He leaves that choice up to us. That’s why I think it is critical that we take time to share our faith, our story, with those who don’t know God so they can develop a relationship with Him.

            I want to encourage you to use the limited time you have to invite family and friends into a relationship with God. The Bible makes it clear that time will run out and that decision has to be made before time ends or our individual time comes to an end. I think it’s also important that we pray for those who don’t have that relationship that their hearts will be tender and open to God so they can accept his invitation. Time is marching on and we don’t want time to run out for anyone.

Contact Doug Creamer at PO Box 777, Faith, NC 28041or doug@dougcreamer.com

Spark

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By Roger Barbee

Because of some poor life choices I had made before the fall of 2005, I was working through the emotional pain my choices had left me.  I was talking with a counselor once a week, and I had a cadre of friends who supported me. My siblings proved invaluable. Having some days better than others, I decided to treat myself to a small gift to encourage my mood on October 18, 2005.

Years before that day,  a dear friend had given me a Saint Christopher’s medal that I always wore, and it was held around my neck by a wire that I had fashioned for that purpose. I now wanted a proper chain for my medal, so after school I went to a jewelry store near where I lived. It was one that I knew I could make a purchase without depleting my meager account.  

Because it had been Spirit Day at the school where I taught, I was wearing my favorite Hawaiian shirt.  I wanted and needed to continue the joy of that day, so I was eager to buy myself a small gift.  Going to the glass counter that was chocked full of rings, jewels, watches, and other items usually for sale by a jeweler, I waited my turn to be helped. A woman dressed in a green pants suit asked what I needed, and I explained that I wanted a chain for my medal. She showed me several chains. Because my key chain hanging from my neck had “Saints” printed on it, she asked if I taught at a near-by school.  I told her that I had worked there, but that I now worked at a school in D.C.

            As I looked at the chains I could afford, she asked if my medal had ever been cleaned and offered to have the store’s repairman clean it for me. Removing it from around my neck, I gave it to her and told her she could dispose of the wire that had served me for years. When she returned to the counter, I had chosen my $30 chain, and she wrote the ticket. Because we were chatting so much, she suggested we move away from the store’s cash register while my medal was being cleaned. The flirt, or spark was on! We exchanged soft information to each other that revealed but did not divulge facts too personal for a stranger.  However, forty-five minutes later my medal was clean, and the lady in the green pants suite offered to fasten it around my neck because “This chain has a difficult clasp.” I gleefully let her, and I placed the card with her phone number next to the sales receipt in my wallet. Soon after that we had dinner and talked more. She shared how that day was her deceased mother’s birthday. I shared that when I arrived home after my purchase,  I had called a sister and said, “I met a woman.”

The following July we married. We share life. We age together. All of this joy after being unable to see the beauty of many October days. But now one of my cherished gifts from Mary Ann is an antique child’s school chalkboard on which she wrote: “Grow old along with me! The best is yet to be, the last of life, for which the first was made….”

I have kept the sales receipt for that chain as a reminder of what life can be. It reminds that life’s sparks are all around us, but we must be prepared to see, accept, and grasp them. And those sparks come anytime, but they are especially good in “the last of life, for which the first was made…,” when all else seemed doomed.

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