Inept

by   March 28, 2023 with No Comments

By Lynna Clark

I’m kind of clumsy when it comes to social graces. Like Don Rickles on the Andy Griffith Show, I’m rather inept. To me, people are scary… down right intimidating. However, for twenty years I worked at the front office of a small school. All day long I dealt with people. I was a little bit good at that. I think because I could help them quickly and they’d be on their way without too many words. If I had to make a phone call, I learned to practice what I would say beforehand. Even now, I do the same. Like last week I needed to check on strawberry plants at the local nursery. In my head, I had the questions ready but when a gruff old dude answered, my words came out “blah blah blahder berrydo have you some?” Also “what is the time of which you shall be closed?” I sounded like Yoda but not as intelligent. Maybe that’s why I write.


Annyyywayyy…


It turns out I’m not real savvy with the technology talk either. Someone was trying to call while I was listening to a Marco message from Permaculture Daughter. I thought I could just hit the orange button that popped up to see who was calling. But somehow I got Google assistant who said, “Try saying, ‘Remind me to take out the garbage.’” So I hit that button trying to get rid of her since my cell was still ringing and Marco was still playing. Of course Google Lady said, “Okay! I will remind you at nine o’clock tonight to take out your garbage.” She seemed so pleased to help that I hated to disappoint her. Without practicing, gently I said, “No Google Lady. Do NOT remind me about the garbage to be out at nine o’clock.”


Bless her heart. I think she was trying her best, but she informed me in her very-pleased-to-be-of-service voice. “Okay! I will remind you NOT to take out the garbage at nine o’clock.” So I gave up on her and hurried to answer my incoming call. But alas. They were gone. So I continued the tour of my daughter’s backyard garden on Marco. At least I’m savvy enough to send her a well-deserved thumbs up, heart AND happy face. I’m sure she was impressed. Plus! No words were harmed in the process.


Sadly, the call I missed was something from a desperate prince who needs money. I’ll have to catch up with him later. Maybe I’ll just text him so I can plan my words. I sure don’t want to insult the royalty which is surely him by misspeaking. But first, I might ought to take a nap. I have a call scheduled past my bedtime to remind me NOT to take out the trash.
Lord help me!


“May the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable in Your sight O Lord my Strength and my Redeemer.” -Psalm 19:14

A Quiet Handful

by   March 27, 2023 with No Comments

By Ann Farabee

Have I mentioned that I have two new grandbabies?

One of them is now 14 months, and the second one is 14 days. GG loves them very much.

The 14-month-old has learned a wonderful trick. Every time he sees me, he reaches his arms up to me, so I can pick him up.

It is a quite effective trick, as it works every time. How he can appear to be so desperate to be held in my arms, I really cannot understand. He either really loves me or he feels as if he can accomplish something great while in my arms that he cannot accomplish while standing there all alone.

He is right about that, you know.

Once I pick him up, he is no longer “alone” in the room.

He feels the power of the human touch.

From there, he is able to receive and receive and receive, while carried from place to place and more. He will be read to, talked to, sung to, walked around, bounced around, played with — the list is fairly endless.

Sure, I could do those things without touching him or holding him, but why would I do that?

When he arrives for his visit, his car seat is placed on the kitchen table, so he can be unstrapped. When he sees me, he begins kicking his feet and flailing his arms around, excitedly waiting to be held by his GG.

No words are needed.

Oh, he knows a few words, but why bother?

I will speak on his behalf. I have heard him say Mama, Dada and pig. I assume the word pig comes from the stuffed pig he carries around from the book, ‘If You Give a Pig a Pancake.’

Yes, he is a precious little guy who still speaks more with his eyes, hands, and feet than with his voice.

So I call him my quiet handful.

Quiet means peace, calm or still.

A handful means as much or as many as the hand will grasp.

Yes, I want as much peace, calm, or stillness as my hands can hold. Peace means tranquility and freedom from disturbance. Calm means peaceful. Stillness means the absence of movement or sound.

Ecclesiastes 4:6 says it is better to have one handful with tranquility than two handfuls of hard work and of trying to catch the wind.

Another translation is, ‘Maybe so, but it is better to have only a little, with peace of mind, than be busy all the time with both hands, trying to catch the wind.’

Catching the wind?

Really?

We know we cannot catch the wind. So why do we waste our time and energy? Peace? Calm? Stillness? Where is that?

It is in us.

1 Corinthians 3:16 says that the Spirit of God dwells in us. Dwell means lives in. The Spirit of God dwells in me. A quiet handful of peace, calm, and stillness dwells in us.

Hold out your hands

— Ask God to remind you of that quiet handful of peace, calm, and stillness that dwells in you.

Ann Farabee is a teacher, writer and speaker. Contact her at annfarabee@gmail.com or annfarabee.com.

Changing Our Focus

by   March 25, 2023 with No Comments

By Doug Creamer

            I went for my walk today to clear my mind and think about my column. It turns out that there was a lot to clear away from my mind. Every time I thought I had cleared my thoughts another train of thought surfaced. I was diligently working to clear my mind so I could begin to think about my column.

            I tried to pray and ask the Lord for help, but my mind kept wandering off in different directions. Sometimes we need to think through some things and other times we need to clear the clutter. I took a deep breath and looked up. The sky was a clear, brilliant blue.  

            I looked at some of the trees and saw spring green leaves beginning to emerge. Then I saw a Redbud tree in full bloom. The air was a crisp cool. Birds were singing and frolicking. I began to feel my clouded thoughts lifting and sense His peace and presence.

            I asked again, what do you want me to write? Nothing came. I have some reflective exercises that I go through to help me find an idea. None of them gained any traction. My walk was rapidly coming to an end with no idea in hand. I decided to keep walking. I began to think about family and friends, those I pray for on a regular basis. I started to pray for them.  

            I thought about other people I know and focused my prayers on each individual’s needs. As I rounded the corner to come home I thought about my neighbors. I prayed for them as I walked past their homes.

            I sat quietly when I arrived home and my personal cares and needs began to cloud my thoughts. My focus while I was walking was on others’ needs, but when I got home my own wants and needs occupied my thoughts.

            When my thoughts are focused on me I become distracted and I am not much good for the Lord or others. How can I hear from God when my thoughts are consumed with me? When I can stop thinking about me I can start to hear what’s on God’s heart and be sensitive to the needs of others.

            The truth is every person that we know needs prayer. Some people are going through terrible health issues, while others are trying to deal with the loss of a loved one. Some are worried about their children; others are worried about their parents. Some are struggling with their finances while others are losing the battle with temptation. You may know someone who is trapped by drugs or alcohol. Others may be fighting doubts, fears, worry, anxiety, or even depression. The list of struggles and battles is long.

            The answer to all these situations begins with prayer. People all around us need our prayers. You may feel inadequate but don’t let that stop you. Your prayers make a difference! Maybe you don’t know what you can do to help, but sometimes a caring heart and a listening ear is all someone needs to help them make it through another day. Maybe you feel inspired to call, text, or send a card to someone to let them know you are thinking of them and lifting them up in prayer. That might be God’s way of sending that someone a lifeline from heaven.

            I am convinced that God can and will use each one of us if we can turn our focus away from ourselves and onto Him. God knows all our needs and He will take care of us. He will watch over us. He can and will use us to be a blessing to others. We need each other in the body of Christ. We need to learn to take our eyes off ourselves and focus on Him and the needs of others; then He will take care of all our needs. That’s the way things work in His kingdom.

            I want to encourage you to move your focus off of yourself and onto others, and especially onto Him. He is a good, good Father who will take care of all of your needs. He needs you…did you read that…He needs you to be looking out for the needs of others. God wants to use you through prayer and sometimes in tangible ways to touch the hearts and lives of others. When we focus on God and others we will experience His peace and joy in new and unique ways. And we can watch in amazement as He meets our needs, too. We just need to change our focus.

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

Danger in the Garden

by   March 24, 2023 with No Comments

By Roger Barbee

As an amateur watcher and feeder of birds, I have had my disagreements with squirrels, the rodents that many folks, unlike me, enjoy. However, after years of battle I have reached a reluctant peace with the varmints. Our bird feeders are as much “squirrel proof” as possible, and I begrudge any squirrel the seeds on the ground under the feeders. A tree rodent, in my view, the squirrels have their place in nature. Just not in my garden hogging the bird seed.

But last evening in the back garden was special, and not just because it was one of those early spring ones when budding life emerged from every shoot, limb, and blade. The dogwoods in our back garden offered early buds that would soon be white petals, and Carolina chickadees, blue jays, nuthatches, and titmice fed at the three feeders while the rufous-sided towhee shared ground morsels with the brown thrashers and a lone, grey squirrel. The returning pair of chickadees had already established a nest in their bird box fastened to the far dogwood, and we had seen the thrashers bringing nesting material to the large azalea beside the back gate. The camellia in the berm had been taken by a pair of cardinals for season residency; and we sat on our screen porch enjoying the end of a grand spring day watching the fading sunlight rest on the far shore and the animals eating from the three feeders.

Then every bird was gone. An uncomfortable silence descended on the garden, covering it like a shroud. Every bird had flown to a safe limb or rushed into one of the two azaleas for refuge. The squirrel hopped to the dogwood truck, alert with its head erect, but near the ground and observant-poised like a statue. Following the stare of the squirrel, I saw the invader. The resident Cooper’s hawk had lit in a dogwood in the berm, about thirty feet from the back feeder, bird bath, and poised squirrel. Not even the blue jays, who will attack a snake, stayed to battle with this intruder.

We watched the hawk, one who is a frequent visitor because of the bird feeders. It was a beautiful animal to us, but the birds had fled because their view of the hawk was different from ours. They saw death while we saw primeval beauty. We watched the squirrel, almost frozen to the tree trunk with its head erect, watching the cooper’s hawk across the fence. We witnessed a scene of nature’s way as the hawk glided to the top fence rail within a few feet of the squirrel who then wisely bounded into the thick foliage of the azalea. The hawk bounded to the ground and began hopping in the bird awkward walk toward the thick bush as if to peer inside it for a meal. It was then that the squirrel came out of the azalea and took a stance next to the dogwood.

If you watch nature enough, even in a small back garden like ours, you will soon enough see death. It may come from a predator, an accidental falling from a nest, or any other result that I have come to realize is “Nature’s beautiful way.” We sat frozen in the safety of our screen porch as the squirrel faced the attacker. Then, as if scripted, the squirrel lept at the cooper’s hawk, who made one hop backward. The squirrel lunged again, and the death threat turned and flew away to other hunting grounds.

All the grey squirrels that frequent our back garden look alike, so the brave heart one will remain anonymous. However, since witnessing such an act—whether foolish or brave—I have become more tolerant of them. While I still have some issues with their antics, even I cannot deny the act of that lone, grey squirrel against the Cooper’s hawk.  

In nature, death happens so that life may continue. Even a dead limb of one of our longleaf pine trees provides food and shelter for all kinds of creatures. In nature death is part of life. But many humans seem unable to come to any type of accord with death. That, in itself, is a form of early death because a fear or denial of the way of all living things, to paraphrase King David, is death at an early age. One should always strive to see things as they are, even if it means acknowledging having underestimated the spirit of squirrels.

The 100 County Adventure

by   March 23, 2023 with No Comments

By David Freeze

It was just two weeks ago when we ran the first story about my planned visit to all 100 N.C. county seats. I have been excited about it since and began the journey this past Tuesday by exploring the first four.

After my own run at home and a quick shower, I drove to Albemarle, county seat of Stanly County and did a 1.54-mile run down First Street and back up Second Street that ended at the YMCA. The park across the street was donated by Charles Cannon of Cannon Mills fame. More familiar with Albemarle than the other towns I would see later, I wasn’t surprised by much. Albemarle is coming alive with new and refurbished apartments and a bold new park in the works. There is a new wood bat baseball team starting this summer called the Wampus Cats plus a new business that encourages throwing axes and hatchets at targets.

My first breakfast on this series of adventures was paid for by Stanly County Commissioner Peter Asciutto. He arranged for me to eat at the Goody Shop Café, in business since 1919. I met Hugh Wainwright and Lynn Russell, and we talked while they made my egg and cheese sandwich and waited on customers. Hugh, the owner, and Lynn love the café and their customers. It’s all take-out now, allowing Hugh and Lynn more free time and more fun while working.

Hugh showed me the Hearne house behind his business where court was held on the lawn and in the house from 1841 to 1941.

Next came Troy, the Montgomery County seat and a major part of the North Carolina’s “Gold Region.” I ran 1.55 miles on the “Streets of Gold.” When the streets of the town were first paved in 1922, residents found traces of gold in the gravel used for the subsurface. Troy is in the heart of the Uwharrie National Forrest, named by President Kennedy in 1961. Historical markers are notable throughout the town. Andy Griffith’s wife, Barbara, came from Troy and they returned often to visit her family. Her dad was the county school superintendent.

Bill Clinton visited Troy for a town hall meeting at the elementary school in 1994. The most prominent building in downtown is the Hotel Troy, first built in 1909 as a four-story hospital. It also housed a drug store, jewelry story, clothing store and grocery market before being converted to the hotel in 1920s.

Carthage was my next stop, Moore County’s seat. I ran 1.52 miles while dodging trucks carrying logs and lumber. The Carthage courthouse sits right on the top of the hill in the center of town, with traffic heading east on one side and west on the other. Tobacco was long important to the economy here and  a few remaining tobacco storage facilities are now used for other things.

The farther east I went, more spectacular murals dominated the towns. Carthage resident James R. McConnell, highly decorated WWI aviator for the Lafayette Escadrille, died in the war and had the most impressive mural in Carthage. Another well done mural noted the Tyson and Jones Buggy Company, one of Carthage’s major employers from 1850-1929. A Tyson and Jones buggy was considered well-built and a certain status symbol.

Andrew Johnson, 17th President and one-time resident, was honored by Moore County citizens for his calming influence during the bitter days of Civil War reconstruction.

My final visit of the day was Sanford, county seat of Lee County, where I did 1.63 miles. Early on, I was fortunate to find the future visitor center and Downtown Sanford Executive Director Kelli Laudate. Her office is in a renovated portion of the old depot. Kelli and I talked running and the strong wind blowing that afternoon in Sanford. She gave me information on the town and told me especially about the Temple Theatre, built in 1925, and an Elvis show, “All Shook Up,” coming for two weeks in April. I plan to return for the show and hopefully visit a few other counties at the same time.

Just outside Kelli’s office was the No. 12 steam locomotive and railroad house museum in Depot Park. The museum wasn’t open, although the house is the oldest in Sanford, built in 1872. Sanford was born in 1871 and was once the only N.C. town serving four rail lines. I got that spectacular courthouse photo I was looking for in the 1908 Lee County Courthouse and also the town hall building.

About a dozen murals already grace the town, one honoring the Tobacco State League Baseball Champions 1946,1947 and 1948, the Sanford Spinners. Another mural was being painted that same afternoon. An app tells the story of each mural.

One final thought-provoking thing that I saw on my last block was a giant wall-sized chalkboard with this statement and about 60 blanks,“Before I die, I want to __.” I had to read them all.

A grand day resulted in 6.13 miles in four county seats! Ninety-six more to go and I hope they are this much fun! 

All Sickness Go

by   March 22, 2023 with No Comments

By Ed Traut

Exodus 23:25  Worship the LORD your God, and his blessing will be on your food and water. I will take away sickness from among you,

  • So easily we take for granted all the blessings and provisions and protection of our Lord.
  • When we worship Him and put Him first in our lives we can look to Him for provision and healing.
  • He will take away sickness – men have medical, but God supersedes all our abilities and does wonders.

Prayer:  Lord I look to You in this time that You will help us and deliver us in this nation from decease and the world from all sickness that You bring health back to this world and show great mercy and grace Lord.  I thank You for it in Jesus name.  Amen.
 

Ed Traut
Prophetic Life

That Can’t Be Good

by   March 21, 2023 with No Comments

By Lynna Clark

We have three grown daughters scattered about making their little corners of the world better. During a recent weekend the one living nearby was at a beach retreat with ladies from her church. I checked the weather app and was happy to see she was enjoying 73 degrees and sunshine. Wow. How perfect. Our middle daughter had plans to visit the farm of a friend who is into Permaculture… whatever the heck that is. I had to Goggle it. She too had great weather for the Permaculturing adventure. Woohoo!


However, as I checked the weather for our poor firstborn living in the Midwest, she was experiencing something called “frozen fog.” I have never heard of such a thing. I wondered if she were to drive through it, would it scratch her car.
That can’t be good.


Later that day I decided to make homemade banana pudding. You know, the kind mama made by cooking egg yolks. Since the local daughter has a gold mine in her backyard [she raises chickens and therefore has eggs] we have a generous portion of the motherlode. After adding four yolks, a little flour and sugar to a warm pot on the stove, I stepped away to grab the milk. Literally two steps to the fridge and two steps back. Of course there’s no telling how long I peered into the coldbox trying to remember why I was there. Upon returning to the stove I discovered darkness hovered upon the face of the deep. I snatched the pot from the flame but it was eternally too late. Scorched globs of gunk greeted me and I knew.


That would not be good.


So I started over. Different pot, fresh ingredients, lower temp and constant stirring would surely lend a good result. Mama would be proud. Later after it cooled and thickened, I relished the sweet pudding over bananas while I watched the birds outside my window. Naturally I dribbled pudding on the reading glasses hooked in the front of my shirt. As I tried to remove it, the pudding smeared all over the left lens. Okay, so I may have licked it off. But even after dousing my glasses in water, things were still foggy. But at least it was not frozen fog. Because that would surely not be good.


Ahhh sweet Saturday! A day filled with sunshine, scorched pudding and fog. I’ve come to realize; even with the good, the bad and the ugly… my life is pretty good. It’s hard sometimes to recognize just how good we have it. Scripture says it like this.
“For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known.” -1 Corinthians 13:12


Soon the fog will lift. Pain will disappear and the truth will be evident. In the grand scope of things, life really is pretty darn good.

Time to go Home

by   March 20, 2023 with No Comments

By Ann Farabee

He was restless

– A man had two sons, and the younger one said to his father, “Give me what belongs to me.”

The father gave him his share of the inheritance.

He was rebellious

— He left home and wasted it with riotous living. He was reckless 

— He spent it all. He met reality

— There was a famine in the land. He began to be in want. He reached bottom

— He became a citizen of that country and had to feed swine. He had a revelation

— He came to himself. He remembered 

— How many hired servants of my father’s have bread enough to spare and I am starving? He recognized his sin

— I will say, Father, I have sinned against heaven and you. He was remorseful

— I am not worthy to be your son. He responded

— He got up and went to his father. He was received

— When he was a great way off, his father saw him coming and had compassion and ran and fell on his neck and kissed him. He repented

— Father, I have sinned and I’m not worthy to be called your son. He was reinstated

— The father told the servants to bring out the best robe and put it on him. He was reconciled 

— To put a ring on his hand. He was re-established

— To put shoes on his feet. He was redeemed

— To bring the fatted calf. Let us eat and be merry, for my son was dead and is alive again. He was lost, but is now found. Are we away from home? We can come to ourselves.

Charles Spurgeon explains that when the father saw him, he saw who he was, where he had been and what he would be soon. The father is looking for us.

When we come home, he will kiss us “much.” As referenced in translations from the 1800s, Spurgeon explained “kissing us much” as meaning:

• much love

• much forgiveness

• much restoration • much joy

• much comfort

• much assurance

• much communion In his sermon, ‘Many Kisses for Returning Sinners,’ the emotion from that moment can be clearly visualized:

Perhaps the young man looked down on his foul garments, and said, “Oh the past, my father, the past!”

The father would kiss him again, as if to say, “Never mind the past.”

“But the present, my father, the present, what a dreadful state I am in!” and with another kiss would come the answer, “Never mind the present, my boy. I am content to have you as you are. I love you.”

“Oh, but father, the future, the future. What if it happens again?”

Then, would come another kiss, and the father would say, “I will see to the future, my son.” There is some good stuff, I mean God stuff, in Luke 15. Is it time to go home?

Tap your heels together three times and repeat after me: There’s no place like home.

There’s no place like home. There’s no place like home.

(Just kidding. I was wanting to see if you were paying attention. It’s actually easier than that.)

Let’s try again — time to go home? 

Come to yourself. Get up. Go to the Father. While you are a long way off, He will see you because He’s been looking for you and He will have compassion on you, and He will run, fall on your neck, and kiss you much.

And that is exactly what He did for me and has done, or will do, for you.

Ann Farabee is a teacher, writer and speaker. Contact her at annfarabee@gmail.com or annfarabee.com.

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