Category Archives: Blog

To my friends around the world

world pictureIn 2014, I had visitors from 9 countries and I was so excited about connecting with friends around the world. So far in 2015, I have had visitors from 34 countries: United States, Brazil, Italy, Portugal, Philippines, India, Switzerland, Russia, Indonesia, South Africa, Peru, Sri Lanka, Argentina, Taiwan, Chile, Mexico, Spain, Venezuela, Qatar, Mozambique, Israel, Norway, Thailand, Colombia, Belgium, Trinidad and Tobago, Egypt, Estonia, Georgia, Hong Kong SAR China, Romania, Netherlands, and Morocco. Nearly 300 of the 440 visits have been from the United States, but I’ve had 65 visitors from Brazil and 11 from Italy.

This all seems overwhelming to me and I can’t help wonder how you are finding your way to my blog. Most of my visitors from the United States come to  me through Facebook, but visitors from other countries are finding me through other links. I would love to hear from you and I hope you will let me know how you found me.

It’s amazing to think how technology has brought the people of the world closer together than we could ever imagine. First satellites allowed us to speak to each other no matter how far apart. Now the internet brings us even closer. With Skype, we can talk face to face as if we are in the same room together. It is my hope and prayer that as we are drawn closer and feel more a part of each other, we can find common ground and come to understand each other better.

My purpose in writing the Handy Helpers books is to show that  young people, older people, and people with special challenges have much to contribute to our world today.   I sincerely hope that you are being drawn to my blog because you feel the same way. The young are our future, but they don’t have to wait until they are adults to help make our world a better place. The elderly represent the past, and they have a great deal to share with us. We must treasure them. They honor us by the way they continue to guide and help us. Those with special needs are our heroes. They struggle to overcome obstacles that most of us can’t even imagine. And they do it with smiles and cheers and love.

I feel so blessed to be able to reach out to all of you in this way. I would love comments from you, questions, anything to get a dialog going. May God bless all of your lives. And if you are drawn to my blog again sometime in the future, I pray that you will find food for thought and food to nourish your soul.

A Rocky Start–Chapter One

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Amber kicked at a rock and watched as it rolled from the sidewalk onto the street. “Grounded,” she said under her breath. She had been looking forward to this day all week. It was an early-release day at school, and it was Friday. Amber and her friends had a fun-filled afternoon planned, but now it was all ruined.

“Grounded,” she said again and kicked another rock. Not even really grounded; not the way her friends were grounded. They just lost their television privileges or had to live without video games for a few days. Her mom took grounding seriously. She called it “Paying your dues for your don’ts.” What that meant was mistakes came with consequences.

This time her mistake had been forgetting to finish emptying the trash. She had taken the bag out like she was supposed to and tied it with a twist tie. Then she had gotten distracted by the music she heard on the TV and went into the family room to watch her favorite commercial. By the time it was over, she forgot about the trash. After she left for school, her ten-month-old black Lab, Domino, found the trash bag. He dragged it out through the open sliding glass door and spread trash all over the backyard. Before she left for work, Amber’s mom made sure Domino was outside and started to lock the sliding door. That’s when she noticed the backyard looked like a blizzard had hit. First she saw white, and then when she realized it was trash, she saw red!

All dressed up in a skirt and heels, Amber’s mom had to go outside and collect the trash that was stuck in every bush and lawn chair in their backyard. When she was finished, her makeup was running and her hair was hanging in her face. Since she was already late for work as an insurance agent, she didn’t have time to change her clothes. By the time Amber’s mom got home from work, she was calmed down, but she’d had plenty of time to figure out the most appropriate way for Amber to pay her “dues.” Today she would be pulling the weeds in the backyard, and tomorrow morning, she would be working in the front yard.

“Excuse me, little girl.” Amber looked up to see who was calling. Then she noticed a woman with white hair, leaning on a cane in front of the house she was just passing. “Excuse me,” the woman said again, and Amber realized she was talking to her.

“Do you need some help?” Amber called back to the woman.

“Yes, I do,” the woman explained. “I’m trying to get my newspaper out of the bushes, but I can’t bend down far enough. Would you mind getting it for me?”

“I’d be happy to.” Amber started across the lawn toward the woman.

As Amber handed her the newspaper, the woman introduced herself. “I’m Betty Jenkins. I’ve seen you walk by here before. Do you live on this block?”

“I live on Sycamore Street. It’s just one street over. My name is Amber Snyder.”

“Nice to meet you, Amber, and thanks so much for your help.”

“Nice to meet you too.” Amber smiled and walked back to the sidewalk.

When Amber got home, she found a note from her mom and a peanut butter sandwich. The note said:

Have a snack. There are gloves and trash bags on the counter. See you at four.  Love Mom.

Amber poured herself a glass of milk and sat down at the kitchen table to eat her peanut butter sandwich. She thought about turning on the TV but decided not to. It was watching TV that had gotten her in trouble in the first place. Amber put her dirty dishes in the dishwasher and went upstairs to change into some old clothes. Ten minutes later, she was grabbing the gloves and bags and heading for the back door.

As Amber started to go outside, Domino put his clumsy paws on the sliding glass door. His nails clicked against the glass as he tried to stand on his two hind legs. “Get down,” Amber yelled at him. “I can’t open the door.” Domino licked her hands as she walked outside, his tail wagging a friendly hello.

The Snyder backyard was a sort of memorial to the family’s unfinished dreams. A pile of rocks in one corner was all that remained of her father’s attempt to build a fountain. Two years ago, he had come home with his pickup truck full of decorative rocks that were on sale at the Discount Mart where he is the manager. His plan was to dig a hole and put in a basin to receive the water as it tumbled down the rocks of the fountain. The pump he planned to install would pump the water back up so it could tumble down again. He had carefully drawn plans for the project, but unfortunately, he never seemed to have gotten around to finishing it.

In another corner were the remains of a garden her mother had planted last fall. Grasshoppers were unusually plentiful that year. The giant insects seemed to be everywhere, chomping down anything that was green. Her mother soon gave up in despair and stopped watering the leafless skeletons, which were all that was left of her broccoli, cauliflower, and spinach. Amber pretended to be disappointed, but secretly, she was happy to have the grasshoppers eat her share of the gross-tasting spinach.

In the middle of the yard was a fire pit her brother, Kyle, dug last summer so he and his friends could roast marshmallows. He had used some of their father’s fountain rocks to build a ring, but now the rocks were pretty much spread around in the yard. Domino had been responsible for some of the backyard mess as well. He had displaced many of the rocks with his nose or paws in his efforts to catch a crafty lizard, not to mention the many digging projects he had started around the yard.

On one side of the yard, near the patio, was Amber’s splash pool, which had been drained and leaned against a wall. Wind must have blown it down, and rainwater had collected in the bottom. She hadn’t used it as a pool for the past two summers. Mostly, she and Kyle used it to hold “specimens” they captured from the pond in the park at the end of their street.

By the time Amber began pulling weeds, it was almost three o’clock. That meant an hour of weed pulling before her mother came home. She started with the little weeds, thinking that they would be easier, but Amber soon realized that the bag wasn’t filling up very fast. Switching to the bigger weeds meant a little more pulling, but the results were more dramatic. Maybe if she did a good job today, her mom would let her off tomorrow. It wasn’t too likely, but she could always hope.

“Well, if it isn’t the wacky weed whacker.” Amber didn’t even have to look up to know it was her brother, Kyle.

“No baseball practice today?” she asked, still not looking up from the weeds.

Kyle plopped down in a plastic chair on the patio. He took out his phone and started texting as he talked to Amber. “Yeah, we had practice. This was early release, remember? Oh, I forgot you were let out of school early so you could do your community-service weed pulling.” Kyle laughed.

Amber figured that most little sisters weren’t crazy about having a big brother, but having a big brother like Kyle was the pits. Being older, Kyle got to do anything he wanted, which of course he rubbed in. What made it worse was that Kyle was good at everything. He always got perfect grades in school without even studying. He was the catcher and the best hitter on the freshman baseball team. Besides that, he played the guitar in a band with his friends. Now that he had baseball practice every day, he wasn’t doing much with his band, but when baseball season ended, Amber knew he would once again be spending his evenings in his friend Spencer’s garage.

Amber was lucky to get average grades in school. She tried, but because of her attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder, which everyone calls ADHD, she had a hard time paying attention in class. Kyle teased her about everything, but mostly about the ADHD. He said that it stands for “Amber’s dramas happen daily.” It was true that Amber made a lot of mistakes and forgot to do things, like the time she was getting a Popsicle out of the freezer. To reach the Popsicles, she had to take out a pound of hamburger, which she forgot to put back in the freezer. By the time her mom found it, the meat was defrosted and had to be thrown away. The cost of the meat was deducted from her allowance the next week. “Everyone makes mistakes,” her mom told her. “And we all have to learn from our mistakes. Unfortunately, there are also consequences. Those are the dues we pay for our don’ts.” The doctor gave Amber medication that helped with the ADHD, but it still seemed like she forgot to finish things more than she should.

Kyle played with Domino for a while, throwing a ball, which Domino ran after and returned. Then he and Domino went in the house. A few minutes later, Amber heard the television. She could tell that Kyle was watching a baseball game.

The Handy Helpers book series is available at Amazon

An interview with Amber Snyder

AmberVeronica Lyons here from Marshallville Daily News. This week we’re talking with kids who are making a difference in their communities. Today I’m speaking  with ten-year-old Amber Snyder. Amber is a member of the Handy Helpers, a group of children who assist the elderly in the town of Bluesky. Thank you for joining us today. How are you?

Amber:  I’m a little nervous but I’m happy to be here.

Veronica: Tell us a little about the Handy Helpers and what you do.

Amber: The Handy Helpers are kids like me who help at the senior center. We do some yard work and set the table for lunch. Sometimes we even help clean the kitchen. We call that KP duty.

Veronica: Are you organized like a club or do you just show up to help when you want to?

Amber: We are like a club. We have meetings every Monday. Logan is like the president. He wasn’t actually elected, but he’s really smart and organized. He’s a good leader.

Veronica: Do you just help at the senior center or do you help seniors in other ways?

Amber: We like to help seniors in any way we can. Sometimes they need help watering their plants or sweeping the porch. We’re always ready to help.

Veronica: How can seniors contact you if they need assistance?

Amber: We have posters around town to let people know we’re available. The best way to contact us is to call Walt at the senior center. He gives us our messages at the Monday meetings.

Veronica: How many members do you have?

Amber: There are seven of us, four girls and three boys.

Veronica:  Handy Helpers is a clever name. How did you come up with it?

Amber: At first, it was only the three boys helping at the senior center. They were Three Handy Guys. Then when my friends, Melissa and Laura wanted to start our own group, we called ourselves the Happy Helpers. After a while, we decided that we could help more if we worked together. That’s how we became the Handy Helpers.

Veronica: Well, I’m sure the people in Bluesky really appreciate all that you do. What do you like best about being a Handy Helper?

Amber:  I like helping, of course. But what I really like most is getting to know the seniors. They are so fun to be with. Sometimes they dress up in goofy costumes. They like to tell jokes and do fun things. They’re also good listeners when you have a problem.

Veronica: It sounds like you have made some very good friendships with the seniors in your town.

Amber: Yes, I have. They are my friends–Like Gus who always says, “See you later alligator,” and Betty who makes the best chocolate chip cookies you’ve ever eaten.

Veronica: Well, I make pretty good chocolate chip cookies. Are you sure Betty’s are the best?

Amber: Yes, they are. They have a secret ingredient.

Veronica: What’s the secret ingredient?

Amber: I can’t tell. I promised.

Veronica: You can whisper it to me. I won’t tell anyone.

Amber: I’m sorry. I can’t do that.

Veronica: Well, you’re a very loyal friend. I’ve enjoyed talking with you Amber. Good luck with your Handy Helpers group.

Amber: Thank you, Veronica.  I’m happy I could be here and talk about the Handy Helpers.

 

Beginning Friday, April 10, and continuing every Friday, the first Handy Helpers book, A Rocky Start, will be presented in serial form. I hope you will make it your Friday read.

The Handy Helpers book series is available at Amazon

 

 

 

Moving out . . . Moving on.

kirstin's new homeOn March 28, we moved Kirstin out of her mobile home which, until a year ago, she shared with her grandmother. The park her home is in will be closing, so selling it was necessary. It was much too big for Kirstin to keep up anyway. Now she is living comfortably in a one-bedroom apartment in Prescott Valley, only a short drive to where her grandmother lives in a care home.

kirstin in the kitchenBecause the mobile was the last place my mother lived independently, most of her possessions were still there. Anyone who has had to move elderly parents out of their home knows it is an unpleasant task–dismantling someone’s life, bit by bit and deciding what to do with it all.  I had a month to complete the move and so it seemed challenging but doable. At first I tried sorting through and making decisions about what to keep, give to other family members, sell, or give away. I even had a yard sale to get rid of some of the excess stuff my mom had acquired over her lifetime. (I found twelve coffee makers and a whole box full of irons.) But in the end, as time grew short, I resorted to rounding up boxes and hauling things off to my house to go through later.

When moving day finally arrived, we began putting furniture and boxes into the twenty-six-foot U-Haul truck. (My son, Michael, thought we didn’t need such a large truck, but we filled every inch of it.) First we dropped off the furniture that would have to be stored in my garage. Then we took Kirstin’s furniture and boxes to her new apartment.  It was eight o’clock at night, when we finished, but the biggest part of the move was accomplished.

My euphoria over finishing the move only lasted until I returned to the mobile for what was left. After countless more trips with my car loaded down and three trips with our pickup, everything was finally out.  Now all that remains is dealing with the furniture that is taking up most of my garage, (I did manage to leave enough space to squeeze my car in.) and the 500 square feet of boxes in my basement. I hope I can accomplish that before I go into a care home myself.

The process of moving my mother gave me cause to think about my own future and how I want to leave things for my children to deal with. These are some of my thoughts. I hope they will be helpful to some of you.

  • If you treasure something, pass it on to a younger family member. Tell the story behind it–how you came to own it, why it’s special. In that way, it will become a family heirloom instead of another item in the Goodwill donation box.
  • If you are no longer using something, get rid of it–Give it to someone, sell it, donate it, throw it away. It could still be useful to someone. Don’t leave it to collect dust in your home.
  • Be selective about what you save. Keeping every birthday card you were ever given may seem thoughtful. But if you don’t enjoy reading the cards over and over, no one else will either. No matter how large your collection, it won’t make it into the Hallmark Hall of Fame. Keep what matters–pictures and special memorabilia–throw out the rest.
  • Make your life about people rather than possessions. Instead of giving your loved ones another knickknack to sit on a shelf, consider spending time with them. Take them to a museum or a park. Read a book together or watch a movie.  Go through old photo albums and recall family stories. The time you give will mean so much more than any gift you could think of.

In a book I’m reading, Life’s Greatest Lesson, by Allen R. Hunt, Grandma Lavish says that we should prepare for death, not fear it.  Today, we are writing the stories that will be told at our funerals. We have the chance now to decide how we want our story told. In the end, those stories are all we take with us from this world–and all we leave behind.

 

 

It’s hikin’ time in Prescott, AZ.

IMG_0786Almost any time of year is a great time for hiking in Prescott. But springtime is especially nice. The temperature is in the sixties, the sky is a bright blue with puffs of white clouds, and signs of new growth are visible everywhere.

A trail I would recommend to you is the Granite Gardens. I call it 1.2 miles of awesome! To reach the trailhead, drive north on highway 89 through the Granite Dells to Granite Gardens Drive. It is across from Granite Gate Senior Living. From the parking area, walk east and use the bridge to cross Granite Creek. The beginning of the trail will be on your left as you walk up the road and goes sharply up. As you reach the crest of the hill and go over the top, you will have an excellent view of a small dam. It was used to divert water into a pipeline that carried water to the Chino Valley Irrigation Project. Another dam farther downstream provided water for a freshwater swimming pool at the Dells Resort. My mother has many memories of that pool. I think I might have gone there with my aunt and uncle as a child, but I don’t really remember it. The pool was closed in 1971.

IMG_0285Continuing along the trail, you will come to a stairway. Reaching the top, you will enter the majestic granite portion of the hike. Following the white dots across the rocks, you climb over and down the granite face.

 

 

 

IMG_0320From there the trail leads to Castle Rock. Views are spectacular in every direction as you continue along this loop of the trail.

On the next part of the trail, we became a little lost, but were glad we did. Otherwise, we would have missed the room built into the rock. The metal door said, “IMG_0302Do not come in,” but who could resist?

As the trail continued, we climbed up the side of what is called the Rock Stacker. It didn’t really take a great deal of imagination to figure out why it was called that.

From there, the trail led to an underground grotto. Giant boulders were wedged tightly into a crevice. The trail took us under the boulders, any one of which could have easily crushed us to death, had they not been so firmly in place. For part of the trail we had to squeeze between some rocks.  It was a daring adventure that no one should miss.

IMG_0334After wiggling our way out at the other end, we were treated to more spectacular views of the granite rocks as we climbed back down. From there, we walked across a meadow and back to the creek. We left our little refuge and returned to civilization, still amazed at all that we had seen on the short but incredible hike.

“One We Are the Girls”

Scan_20150316The mother-daughter relationship is a special kind of phenomenon that is difficult to explain. It is a relationship that changes over time but remains an important part of a woman’s life. The father-daughter relationship is also wonderful, but mothers and daughters can share a kind of intimacy that father’s can’t easily grasp.  With Kirstin and me, we have shared a special bond that I believe began with caring for Kirstin in the hospital when she had meningitis. It was strengthened further during the time we spent together when she was in preschool. There has never been a time when Kirstin and I haven’t been friends. I know that many mothers and daughters go through rough periods, when they struggle to define their respective roles. Kirstin and I struggled a little, but I consider it one of the trade-offs that her teen years were pleasant ones. This is especially  amazing when you consider that besides being her mother, I was her teacher during four years of high school.

Craig and Michael always seemed to be busy with work or scouting, doing guy things. So Kirstin and I spent a lot of time together. We played games and Barbies and read stories. We developed out own cheer. It was adapted from one of the cheers performed at the football games for the high school where I teach. It went, “One, we are the girls. Two, we do it right. Three, we are number one . . . We are the girls.”

Each summer, the local movie theater had a weekly children’s movie. This became our summer ritual, and every week Kirstin, Sherry Baby (her Cabbage Patch doll) and I would go to the movies. Kirstin and Sherry always wore matching outfits, and the workers at the theater would watch for us and say, “Here they come.” Due to Kirstin’s maturity level, she enjoyed the type of movies they were showing, so we continued with this routine much longer than most moms and daughters would. We called it our “girls’ day out.”

Kirstin’s side of the story:

I like spending time with both my parents. Sometimes we invite our guys, Dad and my fiancé David, to come along. We go to the movies and lunch on a double date. Sometimes we go hiking or bowling. I look forward to going on a girls’ day out with my mom. In fact, we had one today. We went shopping at the mall. I bought some cute clothes. Mom helped me pick them out. We went to lunch and then to Walmart to buy my groceries. I hope I never get too old for a girls’ day out.

From This Little Light of Mine, A woman with Down syndrome shines brightly in the world. This book is available on Amazon

 

The night God erased my manuscript

miracle mileI had been working hard on the second Handy Helpers book all day–first making some important revisions and then focusing on chapter ten. After dinner, I returned to work on it again, eager to finish the chapter. With chapter ten not quite completed, I was forced to quit as my mind was shutting down. Suddenly, the computer screen went blank. I stared at the white screen for a few seconds before deciding that I must have hit a function key and opened a new file. When I clicked the x to close the file, I was asked, as usual, if I wanted to save the changes. Just as I clicked “yes,” I realized I had not opened a new file, but I had actually deleted everything–thirty thousand words gone in an instant!

My initial shock was eased a little as I remembered that every night at eleven o’clock my writing was automatically backed up on a thumb drive. I hadn’t lost everything–only my work from that day. Still feeling the loss and wondering if I would be able to recall all that I had written that day, I went to bed.

The next day I was able to retrieve my backed up work and  easily return to the parts of my manuscript where I made changes. With all the changes completed, I turned my attention to the part of chapter ten I had been working on but my mind went completely blank. Try as I might, I could not remember any of the words I had written. As I struggled to think of something to write, it seemed as if a wall had gone up, blocking my thoughts. Finally, in frustration, I gave up.

Later that night, I was reading my homework for an apologetics class I was taking at church. It was a long reading assignment and not terribly interesting, and I was struggling to stay awake. Determined that I was going to finish, I pushed on through the sleepiness. At last, I completed the assigned reading, but for some unknown reason, I continued to read on. My eyes came to rest on a scripture passage–Ephesians 2:8–“For by grace you have been saved through faith, and this is not from you; it is a gift of God; it is not from works, so no one may boast.”

It was at that moment I recognized God’s hand on my writing. I had been working on a part of the book where Beth Anne asks her grandmother to tell her what grace is. Apparently, I hadn’t done an adequate job the first time. Now I had a second chance to get it right. Focusing on the scripture I had been given, I wrote the following:

“There’s one part I don’t understand,” Beth Anne said seriously. “Who is Grace?”

“Grace isn’t a person, honey,” Doris explained. “Grace is . . . grace is . . . well, grace is a gift from God.”

“A gift from God? You mean like a present?”

“Yes, kind of like a present, but the very best present you could ever imagine.”

“If I’m really good, do you think God will give me a present?”

“God doesn’t give us his gifts of grace because we’re good. No one could ever be good enough to earn God’s grace.”

“I don’t understand.” Beth Anne shook her head.

“Let me see if I can explain it.” Doris hesitated for a moment, thinking. “You are holding a gift for your mother, right? Why are you giving her a gift?”

“Because it’s Mother’s Day and I love my mother.”

“Exactly.” Doris let out a sigh. “We give each other gifts to show how much we love each other. But no matter how much love we have, we can never equal the love God has for us. That’s why we can never earn his gifts of grace. He gives us those gifts out of love.”

I’ll never know what words I had written originally. Those words are gone forever–erased by the hand of God. But in their place are words he wanted me to write. I’ll be forever grateful for his gift of grace.

 

That Guy Named Gus

rheddens_order_delivered_jpgGus Farley is the fun-loving founder of the Bluesky Senior Center. When he and his wife, Barbara, moved to Bluesky from Ohio, only a few families were living there. Gus had retired from his job as a machinist and found himself with lots of time on his hands. At first, he kept busy by whittling, a hobby he learned from his father. But eventually, he looked around for something else to do. Building the senior center in Bluesky was not his idea, but he made it his personal project. Gus and Babs, as everyone called her, worked tirelessly to raise money for the land and building. Their only son had been killed in Vietnam, so the citizens of Bluesky became their family. When Babs was diagnosed with cancer, Gus turned his attention to caring for her. After Babs passed away, the senior center became his refuge. Most days, Gus can be found sitting in the rec room with his cronies, Al, Bert and Norman, telling stories or playing checkers.

When Amber, Laura, and Melissa come to the senior center for the first time to watch Betty’s shuffleboard match, it is Gus who greets them and gives them a quick tutorial on shuffleboard. Later, when they return to sign up as junior volunteers, it is Gus who shows them around the place. After that, the girls come to expect Gus to be there to greet them,  ready with a joke or riddle.

“Tell them a joke before they leave,” Bert told Gus.

“Okay, I’ll try,” Gus said. “Why did the boy eat his homework?”

“Was the boy named Spike?” Amber asked.

“Okay, why did the boy eat his homework?” Laura played along.

“His teacher said it was a piece of cake.”

Although Gus likes to dress up in crazy outfits and join in whatever fun stuff is going on, he does have his serious side. For example, when Amber is feeling guilty about some stunts she pulled to get even with Spike, Gus is there to help her see how much she is valued and loved.

“You know”–Gus became more serious–“I never had a daughter or a granddaughter, but if I did, I’d want her to be just like you.”

“Really?” Amber sounded doubtful. “Laura’s a lot smarter than I am, and Melissa is way prettier. Besides, I mess up a lot.”

“My wife, Barbara, would have loved you,” Gus said. “In some ways you remind me of her.”

“Do I look like her? “When she was younger, I mean?”

“No, you don’t look too much like her, except for your eyes. She had the same warm, deep brown eyes you have. Sometimes there was a little mischief in them like I’ve seen in yours.”

In book three, after Spike’s mishap with the mayor, Spike expects a big lecture from Gus just like the one he received from his parents. Instead, Gus offers him a bit of advice in the form of a Bible scripture, “Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.” Gus goes on to give Spike a little project to work on–something that makes all the difference in Spike’s attitude toward Todd.

Gus is the perfect example of Christian charity for the Handy Helpers. He is there to lend a hand when his neighbors are in need–always with a smile. He is patient with Warren Pritchard, who has some memory problems. He is kind to the Clawson sisters who are a little eccentric.  When the Cole children need a home, it is Gus who steps up. That guy named Gus–Bluesky just wouldn’t be the same without him.

The Handy Helpers book series is available at Amazon

The not too easy reader

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Friends have asked me how Kirstin learned to read. I tell them she learned in school like everyone else, but there really is more to the story. Some of the ladies at our church wanted to give the credit to Kirstin’s Sunday school teacher. All of a sudden it seemed that Kirstin was able to read the little Sunday school books. Kirstin’s teacher, Mrs. Mobley, was somewhat upset with this version of the story, and rightly so, as she had been working with Kirstin for two years. Of course, Mrs. Mobley deserves the credit. She had a wonderful reading program called Edmark and all the faith in the world that her students could learn to read.

Much of the credit goes to Kirstin herself. I like to tell people that Kirstin learned to read by shear force of will. As her skills improved, she read every word she saw. This meant that she read all the credits at the end of a movie or television program. If we ate in a restaurant, Kirstin had to read the entire menu. Once again we found ourselves being held hostage in restaurants. Kirstin read signs, billboards and posters.  She read and read until she could read almost anything.

Reading has been an important part of my life since I was a small child. Now that I had a daughter who loved reading, I wanted to share my favorites with her. I enjoyed Beezus and Ramona, and all the Judy Blume books. Doctor Doolittle was also one of my favorites. Kirstin wanted nothing to do with my suggestions. Instead, she discovered her favorites on her own. Her ultimate love was The Baby-Sitter’s Club. One after another, she read them as fast as they were being published. The characters in The Baby-Sitter’s Club became real people in our household. Kirstin told us about them in great detail. One day I noticed Kirstin doing something sneaky, so I thought I had better check it out. On one of the pages of The Baby-Sitter’s Club book there was an advertisement for babysitting services, complete with the phone numbers of the club members. Kirstin was on the phone trying to contact someone in the club.

In 1996, Ann Martin came to Prescott for a book signing. We took Kirstin and her friend Angela to the bookstore where it was being held. There was a very long line that encircled the building, and we waited for hours. Kirstin had difficulty find a new book to buy for Ms. Martin to sign, because she already had most of them. Finally, it was her turn. Maybe it was my imagination, but it seemed that Ms. Martin spent a little more time talking to Kirstin than she did with the others. It is one of Kirstin’s fondest memories.

Kirstin’s Side of the Story: I read every day. I like to read books that are exciting or funny. I like to read love stories because I’m in love with David. I do read history, romance, scary books, and mysteries. The characters in the stories make mistakes and learn from their mistakes. I learn from their mistakes too.

If I couldn’t read, my life would be boring. I would not have been able to read The Baby-Sitter’s Club or the Avonlea books. I have to do some reading at work and in church. If I couldn’t read, I wouldn’t be as independent, because someone would have to help me. I have been able to read Facebook and Livemail, so I know what my friends are doing. I sent my boss a music video on Facebook. I had to read to figure it out by myself. My mom said she doesn’t know how to do that, but I can because I can read.

If someone is having trouble learning to read, I would tell them not to give up. You can do it if you put your mind to it. Read as much as you can and you’ll get better at it. We all have problems. Yours is learning to read, but you can solve it. Find a good teacher who will help you and never give up on you.

From This Little Light of Mine, A woman with Down syndrome shines brightly in the world. This book is available on Amazon

Jesus has no hands but ours.

prayingYou’ve probably heard the old joke about a man who found himself stranded on his roof during a flood. Some neighbors come by in a canoe and try to help him but the man remains on the roof. “I prayed to God and he will save me,” the man insists. As the water continues to rise, a rescue boat approaches. Again the man declines assistance. Instead he states firmly that God will save him. Just before the waters reach the top of his roof, a helicopter appears. Once again the man refuses to be rescued. At last he is overcome by the flood waters and drowns. In heaven, he asks God, “I prayed so fervently, and believed that you would keep me safe. Why did you let me drown?”  God’s reply, “I sent you a canoe, a rescue boat and a helicopter. Each time you refused my help.”

Obviously, the man failed to recognize God’s mercy offered through the hands of others.  Of course a rational person would eagerly accept any help that was offered in an emergency such as a flood. But how often do we pray and pray to God when we are faced with a difficult situation and then refuse help from friends and neighbors. No one wants to be a burden, but by accepting help from others, we are allowing them to carry out God’s will.

So many times, we are called upon to pray for the needs of others and of course we do so willingly knowing that God answers prayer. We are told in the Matthew 18:19, “Again I say to you, that if two of you agree on earth about anything that they may ask, it shall be done for them by My Father who is in heaven.” Clearly, the power of prayer is amplified by the number of people praying. As well, the power is amplified in the mind of the person being prayed for. There is great solace in knowing that others are praying for us.

That God answers prayer is something every Christian knows from first-hand experience. We all have in our memories circumstances when the Holy Spirit was so obviously present at a time of great need. But we must be open to the call of the Holy Spirit in our lives if we are to be the instruments through which prayers are answered. If, as happened last week, my neighbor who is ill asks me to go to the store for her, it is obvious what I am being called upon to do. But sometimes our role is less obvious and even unknown to us. It might be in the form of a smile or kind word to a stranger who is having difficulties. We may never know the effect we have on situations we are unwittingly a party to, but God knows and so do those who receive our help.

Growing up, I had the perfect example of Christian charity in my grandmother. She was always willing to help anyone in need. She cared for my grandfather who was in a wheelchair as far back as I remember. Even with that responsibility, she would come to the aid of sick neighbors or anyone who needed her help. At my grandmother’s funeral, my aunt Billie told this story that illustrates my grandmother’s kindness to others. Aunt Billie had a blinding headache. She called my grandmother, her mother-in-law, and told her how badly her head hurt. “Could you go to the store and get me some aspirin?” Billie asked.

“Oh, you poor thing!” my grandmother said. “Of course I’ll get you some aspirin. I’ll do it right away. Who is this?”

We never know when we will be called upon to be the hands and feet of Jesus. We must be open to the needs of others and bold in our willingness to do as we are asked to do.