I DID IT ALL BY MYSELF!

My 4, 6 and 8-year-old granddaughters participated in the Redbud Fun Run in Oklahoma City this past weekend. My daughter signed them up intending to run together as a family. The 6 and 8-year-olds quickly tossed the plan aside to race with school friends. There weren’t too many 4-year- olds in the race, so Mom and Baby Cakes were content to run together.

At the starting gun they took off running. Baby Cakes ran as hard and fast as her little legs would propel her. It wasn’t long before she looked at her mother and said, “Mommy, I’m tired. I can’t do this anymore.”

“Yes, you can. Slow down a little bit,” Mom said as she wiped the pleading face. “Take a sip of water and catch your breath. Can you fast walk?”
“No, Mommy, it’s too hard. My feet hurt. I can’t do it.” Tears welled up in her eyes.
 “I’ll carry you for a while,” Mom said. Baby Cakes clasped her arms around her mother’s neck and held on tight. Mom ran for the two of them until the added weight forced her to a walk.
“Baby, can you walk for a while?”
“I don’t know. I’ll try, but it’s hard.”
“I know, but you can do it. I’ll be right here. I’ll hold your hand.”

And so they continued the race. At times they jogged or walked together. Flushed chubby cheeks and panting tongue reflected Baby Cakes’ effort, so Mom carried her until she could walk again.

 As they approached the finish line, Baby Cakes’ demeanor changed completely. First she heard the encouraging crowd and picked up her pace. Then she spotted her sisters’ and grandparents’ cheering her on. She broke into a big smile and charged the finish line yelling, “I did it! I did it! I did it all by myself!” She accepted their hugs and congratulations. Her mother stood by smiling and never offered any correction.

I love that story. Sweet Baby Cakes. There was no deceit in her. She discounted the times her mother carried her, held her hand, and encouraged her. In her mind she didn’t quit, therefore she completed the race “all by myself.”

How often have I been through tough times and called out to God for help. I’ve whined and cried and told Him I couldn’t go on. He carried me. He set me on my feet to continue the race assuring me He would never leave me nor forsake me*. He held my hand and encouraged me. Sometimes the encouragement came through His Word. Sometimes it came through a friend. I received them all and keep plodding along with my tongue hanging out. The cheering crowd bolstered my spirits as I crossed the finish line. Have I discounted Him at the finish line? Did I boast, “I did it all by myself?” Sometimes I did, but most of the time I give him the praise and glory for His unswerving grace. 

Lord, thank you for the mercy and grace to finish this race.
*"Be strong and of good courage, do not fear nor be afraid of them; for the LORD your God. He is the One who goes with you. He will not leave you nor forsake you." Deuteronomy 31:6.

I did it all by myself!

Cracked Pot!

As you know from previous posts in “Life of Grace,” I’ve made poor choices in my life. I’ve suffered the consequences of those choices. With massive doses of God’s grace, I’ve survived.  In the years I have left I hope to shine His light on the dark waters of life to help others navigate.

These days I make better choices, but I’m not perfect and often feel unworthy. This passage written by the great Apostle Paul comforts me. He too, felt unworthy. I’m in good company.

4 ^1-2 Since God has so generously let us in on what he is doing, we’re not about to throw up our hands and walk off the job just because we run into occasional hard times. We refuse to wear masks and play games. We don’t maneuver and manipulate behind the scenes. And we don’t twist God’s Word to suit ourselves. Rather, we keep everything we do and say out in the open, the whole truth on display, so that those who want to can see and judge for themselves in the presence of God.
^3-4 If our Message is obscure to anyone, it’s not because we’re holding back in any way. No, it’s because these other people are looking or going the wrong way and refuse to give it serious attention. All they have eyes for is the fashionable god of darkness. They think he can give them what they want, and that they won’t have to bother believing a Truth they can’t see. They’re stone-blind to the dayspring brightness of the Message that shines with Christ, who gives us the best picture of God we’ll ever get.
^5-6 Remember, our Message is not about ourselves; we’re proclaiming Jesus Christ, the Master. All we are is messengers, errand runners from Jesus for you. It started when God said, “Light up the darkness!” and our lives filled up with light as we saw and understood God in the face of Christ, all bright and beautiful.
^7-12 If you only look at us, you might well miss the brightness. We carry this precious Message around in the unadorned clay pots of our ordinary lives. That’s to prevent anyone from confusing God’s incomparable power with us. As it is, there’s not much chance of that. You know for yourselves that we’re not much to look at. We’ve been surrounded and battered by troubles, but we’re not demoralized; we’re not sure what to do, but we know that God knows what to do; we’ve been spiritually terrorized, but God hasn’t left our side; we’ve been thrown down, but we haven’t broken (emphasis added).What they did to Jesus, they do to us—trial and torture, mockery and murder; what Jesus did among them, he does in us—he lives! Our lives are at constant risk for Jesus’ sake, which makes Jesus’ life all the more evident in us. While we’re going through the worst, you’re getting in on the best!
^13-15 We’re not keeping this quiet, not on your life. Just like the psalmist who wrote, “I believed it, so I said it,” we say what we believe. And what we believe is that the One who raised up the Master Jesus will just as certainly raise us up with you, alive. Every detail works to your advantage and to God’s glory: more and more grace, more and more people, more and more praise!
^16-18 So we’re not giving up. How could we! Even though on the outside it often looks like things are falling apart on us, on the inside, where God is making new life, not a day goes by without his unfolding grace. These hard times are small potatoes compared to the coming good times, the lavish celebration prepared for us. There’s far more here than meets the eye. The things we see now are here today, gone tomorrow. But the things we can’t see now will last forever. 2 Corinthians 4, The Message Bible.

On a lighter note. The primer I use under my base makeup is called, “Spackle.” Appropriate for a cracked pot don’t you think?

Old Folks are Worth a Fortune

My parents, Randall & Priscella Thetford,
 in their 80's and still working the farm! 

My mom gave me a tattered, yellowed newspaper clipping and asked me to type it up for her Sunday School class. It hits a little close to home today, so I thought I would share it with you.

Old folks are worth a fortune,
with silver in their hair,
gold in their teeth,
stones in their kidneys,
lead in their feet and
gas in their stomachs.

I have become a lot more social
with the passing of the years,
some might even call me a frivolous old gal.
I’m seeing five gentlemen every day!

As soon as I wake, Will Power
helps me get out of bed.
Then I go see John.
Then Charley Horse comes along,
and when he is here he takes a lot
of my time and attention!
When he leaves, Arthur Ritis shows
up and stays the rest of the day.
He doesn’t like to stay in one place very long,
so he takes me from joint to joint!
After such a busy day,
I’m really tired and glad to go to bed,
with Ben Gay!

P.S. The preacher came to call the other day.
He said that at my age I should be
thinking about the hear-after.
I told him I do, all the time.
No matter where I am,
in the kitchen or down in the basement,
I ask myself, “Now what am I here after?”

 Author unknown.

 My joints do ache and the older I get the more I realize just how many parts of this old body can break down. Maybe that's why I love this verse:

You're all I want in heaven! You're all I want on earth! When my skin sags and my bones get brittle, GOD is rock-firm and faithful." Psalm 73:25 The Message

Hope you have a lovely Easter Celebration this weekend.

Blueberry Coffecake Scones

My Sweetheart loves to cruise (on Royal Caribbean) We have been to the Caribbean several times, but my favorite route departs from Vancouver and cruises up to Juneau, Alaska. It was there I found my happy place. It isn't easy to get to, but totally worth the trouble.

We boarded a seaplane in Juneau, 

flew over seven glaciers.

Before landing at the Taku Glacier Lodge.

We were greeted by the aroma of salmon grilling.
Our delicious meal was topped off with the best
 fresh blueberry scones I have ever eaten. 

We kept an eye out for the bears on our stroll up to a waterfall, but what I found was the Cook's cabin and Gift Shop. (Of course I found the Gift Shop.) They were looking for a cook. If I didn't have adorable grandchildren I would still be there. (Sorry, Sweetheart!) If I go missing, look there first. 

I brought the Blueberry Scone recipe back for you.
It's another required item on our Easter menu.

Preheat over to 375 and gather your ingredients.
You can use fresh or frozen blueberries.

Mix dry ingredients together in a large bowl

Cut in cold butter. You can use two knives to cut in the butter

if you don't have this dohicky.

Until coarse or pea-size bits. You don't want it smooth. 

Beat two large eggs with milk, vanilla, and lemon zest in a small bowl.

Add the egg mixture to the flour mixture, stirring to combine. 

The mixture will be sticky. Stir in blueberries

Press into a 9" circle on lightly greased baking sheet. I just use an old beat-up pizza pan.
I stop at this point and bake and sprinkle with powdered sugar when it has cooled.
. If  you like a little more sweet add the coffeecake topping below.

Mix together dry ingredients

Cut in butter until crumbly.

Sprinkle topping over dough.

Cut the dough into eight wedges (makes it easier to cut when it's baked)

Bake at 375 for 30-35 minutes until lightly browned.
Cool on a wire rack for 15 minutes. Recut if necessary.
I usually turn it into 16 pieces.

BLUEBERRY COFFEECAKE SCONES

Heat oven to 375 degrees. Lightly grease a baking sheet (or do as I did, and use a well-seasoned baking stone) and set aside.
Mix together in a large bowl:

2 1/4 cups all purpose flour

1/2 cup sugar

2 tsp baking powder

1/2 tsp salt

Cut into the mixture, until the mixture is course:

1/2 cup (1 stick) cold unsalted butterIn a smaller bowl mix together:

2 large eggs

1/4 C milk

1 tsp vanilla

1/4 tsp grated lemon peel
Add the egg mixture to the flour mixture, stirring to combine. (The dough will be quite sticky.)

Gently fold into the dough:

1 1/2 C fresh or frozen blueberries (or blackberries!!)

Lightly flour your hands and pat the dough into a 9" circle on the baking sheet.

Prepare the topping by mixing together:

3/4 C all purpose flour

1/4 C brown sugar

1/8 tsp cinnamon

1/4 C cold unsalted butter (cut into the mixture) 

Sprinkle the topping over the dough.

Using a serrated knife, cut the dough into 8 wedges.

Bake 30-35 minutes, until lightly browned and a cake tester comes out clean.

Place on a wire cooling rack for 15 minutes. If necessary, re-cut the wedges with the serrated knife. Can be served warm or cool. Store in an air-tight container

Fresh Strawberry Pie

This fresh strawberry pie is a family favorite. It appears on the table for every Easter dinner, (and lunch...and sometimes breakfast. What? It's fruit!) and other special dinners. About eight years ago our dear friend, evangelist Darren Bruce and his wife, Nirmala, brought Dallas Cowboy, Woody Danzler home for dinner. Darren's smile and booming voice filled the house as he raised his hands and announced, "Oh my, my, my!That's smells so good. Let's just thank Jesus now!" We watched in amazement as he and Woody destroyed BBQ ribs, baked beans, Jailhouse rolls, and a huge piece of strawberry pie. Woody raved about the food and backed up his words by demolishing seconds and thirds. I sent him home with a dozen rolls and half a strawberry pie. The next day I received the supreme compliment. Darren told me Woody stopped at Pappas Brothers Steakhouse for a birthday dinner for one of the other players. When harassed for not ordering anything but a glass of water, Woody bragged on the best meal he'd ever eaten. Thanks, Woody.
I received this recipe as a young bride in Beaver, Oklahoma. Our church was having some kind of dinner, probably a Valentine Banquet. Those who volunteered to bring dessert were asked to make this pie. The recipe came from Willie Harvey. Thanks, Willie.

Gather all your ingredients. I usually use butter for the crust but this time I used a
non-dairy buttery spread for my granddaughter who can't eat dairy.
For my gluten -free friends, I use a gluten-free shortbread cookie crust.
It's not easy making everyone happy, but I try.

You can buy a graham cracker crust, but there is nothing better than a
thick fresh crispy homemade crust.
 So easy too. Just combine crumbs, sugar and butter.

Blend together and press into pie pan. I like to bake mine at 375 for 6 min. for a crispy crust.

While the crust is cooking and cooling make your filling. 
Combine the dry ingredients in a 2 qt. saucepan.

Pour boiling water over dry ingredients and stir until smooth.

Cook over medium heat, stirring often.

Cook until thickened.

Set aside the filling and crust to cool.

I have two tools that make slicing large quantities of strawberries a breeze.

The strawberry huller pops the top off with little waste.

The mushroom/egg slicer zips through a quart of strawberries in less than two minutes.

Place your sliced strawberries on top of the cooled pie crust.

Cover the strawberries with cooled filling. I like to toss the strawberries with the filling so they are
covered on top and bottom. Chill until ready to serve. 
Top with whipped cream or non-dairy whipped topping.

FRESH STRAWBERRY PIE

1 C. boiling water

1 C. sugar (I use less, but this is the way the original recipe was written) 

3 T. cornstarch

3 T. pkg. Strawberry Jello (I like the Wild Strawberry, if you can find it). 

          Stir dry ingredients together.  Pour boiling water over dry ingredients.  Cook until thickened.  Cool and pour over 1 pint fresh; cut-up strawberries arranged in a graham cracker pie crust.  Cover with Cool-Whip or serve with whipped cream.  (Double the recipe if you use a quart of strawberries)

Graham Cracker Crust

 Mix:   1 ¼ C graham cracker crumbs

          ¼ C. sugar

          1/3 c. melted butter

Shape:  Using back of large spoon, press crumb mixture firmly on bottom and up sides of an 8 or 9 inch pie plate.

For a crispier texture, bake shaped crust at 375 for 6 – 8 minutes; cool then fill.

You might as well make two. One won't be enough!

Lord Have Mercy

“I’m going to be late,” I said my voice quivering.

“Is traffic bad?” Sweetheart asked.

“No, I got a speeding ticket,” my voice broke.

"What? Are you okay? Are you still driving?” he asked.

“No, I’m parked. I’m shaking so hard I pulled over to call you.”

“Oh, I’m so glad you did,” he said.” Do you need me to come get you?”

“No, I’m fine. I can’t believe I got a ticket. I don’t remember the last time I got a speeding ticket. It’s been at least 15 years,” I replied with a hint of righteous indignation.

“What happened?”

 "North of Denton on I-35 the speed limit was 75 mph. It slowed to a crawl south of Denton although I never saw an accident or a broken down vehicle. When traffic finally began to pick up near Lewisville the speed limit was 60 mph. The drivers must have gotten impatient cause I had cars passing me like I was sitting still. A Silverado pickup zipped by me; I got cut-off by an SUV; and then a Ford F-150 blew my doors off." I paused to recall all the details.

"I was at the back of the pack when a police cruiser pulled into traffic behind me. I took my foot off the gas, looked down at my speedometer and relaxed. I was going a little over the speed limit, but not much. I watched him in my rear-view mirror. He turned his lights on. I moved to the right lane so he could catch the speeder, but he was after me! I can’t believe he chose to stop the Toyota hybrid. Reeaallly?”  I said dragging the word out sarcastically. “Hybrids don’t exactly have a reputation for racing speeds.”

“Did you try to talk him out of it?”

“I didn’t flash him, if that’s what you mean. Who wants to see my old lady cleavage?” I huffed.

“That’s not what I meant, Lace,” he chuckled.  “But it would have worked for me.”

“Well, I appreciate that you find me attractive, but it wouldn't have been respectful to you or to God for me to behave like a trollop,” I said mollified by the compliment.

“So what did you do?” he asked.

“I choked back the tears, but my hands were shaking when I gave him my registration, I didn’t want to appear manipulative. I explained how long it’s been since I’ve had a ticket. I told the officer I was on my way home from the funeral of a 21-year-old girl who died in a tragic car accident, so I know I was driving carefully. I told him I thought he stopped the wrong car. I told him about the trucks passing me and the SUV cutting me off. I didn’t make the hybrid remark, but I asked him if he could please give me a warning. He told me he was sorry, but he had to give me a ticket. He said I could explain to the Judge. I put my head on the steering wheel for a couple of seconds and then took the ticket. He even thanked me for being so respectful,” my voice rose in frustration as the tears began to flow.

“Honey, calm down. That is all you could do. We’ll figure it out. Come on home, but drive carefully.”

I set my cruise control on 60 mph and stayed in the right-hand lane for the next hour. Sweetheart met me in the garage. He opened the car door and drew me into his arms. Within the safety of his warm embrace, I began to sob.

“Babe, it’s okay.” He kissed the top of my head. “Come on in. Sit down. I’ll get your bags later.”

He sat beside me on the couch and placed his arm around me. Handing me a tissue, he said, “Okay, let’s look at the ticket.”  I handed him the ticket.

“Huh, this is not from the Texas State Highway Department,” his eyebrows furrowed. “It’s from Hickory Creek Municipal Court. I’m surprised they were patrolling I-35.”

“What is the fine?” I asked, certain the fee would be less in a municipal court.

“’For speeds 10 to 20 miles over the speed limit-$200.00.’ What? $200!” he exclaimed.

“I will admit to being 5 miles over the speed limit but not 15. What is the fine for that?” I asked hopefully.

“’For speeds from 1 to 9 miles over the speed limit it is $190’,” he read.

“Are you kidding me? Just $10 more? That’s ridiculous. This fine is not about justice. It’s about revenue for Christmas bonuses! We can’t afford $200 at Christmas time. I have to fight it.

I’m going to the Courthouse with a turkey and offer it for their Christmas party. Obviously that’s what this is about. Then I’m going to throw myself on the mercy of the court reasoning that thirty years of working for attorneys is punishment enough. A judge will understand that!” Outrage replaced tears.

“No, you are not, Lace,” he admonished. “It’s okay to vent to me, but a judge will cite you for contempt and throw you in jail. You are going to stay home and pay the fine. “He hugged me tighter.

I sat up and pulled away undeterred. "What is the date of the hearing?"

“January 22, 2013. You leave for Hungary on January13^th and won’t be back until February 9^th. You can’t be in court." 

I sank back into the couch. “But it is so unfair. It wasn’t me. I wasn’t going fifteen miles over the speed limit.”

"You admit you were 5 miles over the speed limit. It would cost more than $10 for gas to argue your case.”

“I know, but it makes me so mad. I have such good arguments too!” I said petulantly.

“I don’t want you getting yourself in more trouble, Ms. Sassypants,” he said taking the ticket. “We’ll have to wait a few days for it to be posted, but I’ll go online and pay the fine.”

I didn’t want to submit to his authority, but I did. Not just because I am commanded to do so, but because he protects and cherishes me as he was commanded*. We placed the ticket in a drawer to be dealt with after the first of the year.

Once the Christmas tree came down and decorations were stored, I began to prepare for my trip to Hungary. In addition to packing for the month away, I needed to take care of the ticket.

“Sweetheart, did you pay the ticket?”

“I’ve gone online three times to pay it, but your ticket doesn’t show up. I’m sorry, you are going to have to call the Court Clerk during the week and see if you can pay it over the phone."

I called called the Court Clerk the next day and explained my situation. I gave her my name, address, and read off the citation number. I heard the keys clicking as she entered the information. I explained the circumstances around my ticket.

"Yes, ma’am, I intend to pay the fine, but my citation does not come up when I enter the number,” I said.

“Let me try it,” she replied.

“Huh,” she said. “It doesn’t come up for me either. I can pull up the citation before yours and the citation after, but I can’t get yours to come up.”

“Does that mean I don’t have to worry about it?”

“Yes, I think so.”

“That kind of scares me because I am leaving the country for a month.  I don’t want to get home and find a warrant has been issued for failure to appear.”

“Let me go talk to the officer who wrote the citation and see what I can find out. Can you hold for a minute?”

“I’d be happy to.” My pulse quickened with anticipation. The longer I was on hold the more excited I grew. Could it be that he changed his mind? But he said it was already entered into the system so he couldn’t just give me a warning.

Was I going to be granted mercy after all? I didn’t deserve it. I did break the law. But isn't that the very definition of mercy:  compassion or forbearance shown especially to an offender; lenient or compassionate treatment.

“Ma’am?” she said, coming back on the line. “I talked to the officer. He said he voided the citation. You don’t need to pay it.”

“Really? Did he say why?" 

“He just said he voided it for technical reasons before it went to the judge.”

“Oh, thank you so much!”

Wow! Did the officer change his mind because I was respectful? Because I didn’t try to manipulate him with flashes of flesh or tears?  Did God reward my obedience in submitting to my husband in spite of my rebellious nature? Whatever the reason, I thanked God for this gift of mercy.

In my spirit, He gently reminded me of His merciful gift of salvation. He prompted me to celebrate His mercy by being merciful to those who irritate, use, hurt, or offend me. There is plenty of mercy to go around; use some--for yourself** and for others***. You will need it someday. I know have and always will.

*Wives submit to your own husbands as to the Lord, for the husband is the head of the wife as Christ is the head of the church...husbands are to love their wives as their own bodies. He who loves his wife loves himself. Ephesians 5:22-28 HCSB

**The merciful are blessed, for they will be shown mercy.” Matthew 5:7

 ***For judgment is without mercy to the one who hasn’t shown mercy. Mercy triumphs over judgment.” James 2:13

Hold Me By My Right Hand

I was reading Psalms 73:23 during my quiet time this morning. It says:

"Yet I am always with You;
You hold me by my right hand."

I have read that verse many times. I picture a mother holding her child's hand, guiding and protecting her as they cross the street. It is a reassuring picture.

Something new struck me as I meditated on the verse.Why does it specifically say the RIGHT hand? I'm right-handed. I wouldn't be able to do anything effectively. A different picture occurred to me. The picture of a mother holding the baby in her lap to feed her.

I've done this many times. I sit the baby on my lap facing the table. I tuck one of the baby's hands behind my back and firmly grasp the other in my hand so she can't grab the spoon and make a mess.

Does He hold me by my right hand so I have to rely on Him? Yes, I think so. As long as my right hand is in His I can't make a mess of things.

Hold me tight, dear Lord.