Hey, Bro!
Good morning, gentlemen! Please sit down and pull up a cup-a.
Have you glanced around my site? I hope you have enjoyed it, because it isn't an exclusively woman's site at all. In fact, my whole game plan is for reaching out and bringing back something maybe some of you remember--a family.
If you haven't checked out all my articles, please look at these in particular:
-My (month-by-month) Thoughts Today
You know, the world of faminism has cheated men out of respect. At least I think so. But...some men didn't do anything in particular to hold onto that respect, either. The Bible says that a virtuous woman is like a ruby, very rare and expensive--you've probably found that out. Did you know that an honorable man is just as much so?
No, I'm not married, but that doesn't mean a thing. We all know very well from experience of the negative kind how hurtful it is to brush up against people who are selfish.
I grew up knowing two gentlemen that I thought very highly of--my father and my brother. My daddy isn't perfect. But kinda like the song, I thought for a long time (until one day I stumbled onto womanhood) that he could do anything. And then suddenly he was just as human as me. My brother, for some reason, was the one I thought was perfect. Maybe it was because he never admitted he was wrong, like my dad did; and so I believed him. Girls are often so gullible, aren't they?
Well, around the time I was 12, the two men I loved best in the whole wide world had a head-bang. My brother, at over 20 years old, left home; but it was not under pleasant circumstances. Ambitious, talented, he could sing, write, paint, draw, act, beat someone up, fix up their wounds, argue cocky preachers into confusion, boast that he could jump off a flight of steps INTO a car in one flying leap (and break a leg doing it)...there was almost nothing he couldn't do if he put his mind to it. But there were several things he wouldn't do. He wouldn't say he was sorry and mean it; he wouldn't keep a job because he always told off his boss; and he wouldn't say no to fornication and idolatry. In the end, his weakness for desiring to have praise of men conquered his power of character to lead. He could have been a preacher. He became a penniless politician and a member of Wicca.
When my brother left, my dad stood on the back porch, shoulders sagging, looking like his best friend had forsaken him. They were as different as day and night, those two. Never really could understand how each other thought. My dad was serious, quiet, hard-working and thorough, entering into our joy with little ripples of jokes and humor and settling us down with the Bible at night to touch our God contentedly. No, he wasn't perfect, I knew that--he admitted it to me far too often. But he tried. He never claimed to be superman. But he had God's power, through Jesus Christ. And he won victories, even if he had to fight years long to win them. How could his son forsake him...and God? What had he done wrong? He loved that boy. Now the man who towered over him at six-foot-four.
I miss my brother like fire sometimes. We just never were the same without him. His big, booming laugh left the house quiet. Over the years, our lives would have been a lot easier if we had the support of a godly, humble, merry son and brother to look up to, lean on and walk alongside with.
Those two represent two kinds of men whom I've seen repeated over and over all the rest of my life. I've met enough of them. Once or twice I thought, "Oh, please...I know you can do it. You just have to. If only you'll humble yourself and realize it ain't your own brawns that wins the fights!! You're just one man in a thousand, but one man with God and the slingshot of prayer killed Goliath and won the entire battle. You just have to make it through..." But only very rarely have I seen any men, especially young ones, win. And it breaks my heart every single time.
The Bible says this to our men:
My little children, these things write I unto you, that ye sin not. And if any man sin, we have an advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ the righteous: And he is the propitiation for our sins: and not for ours only, but also for the sins of the whole world. And hereby we do know that we know him, if we keep his commandments. He that saith, I know him, and keepeth not his commandments, is a liar, and the truth is not in him. But whoso keepeth his word, in him verily is the love of God perfected: hereby know we that we are in him. He that saith he abideth in him ought himself also so to walk, even as he walked...I write unto you, fathers, because ye have known him that is from the beginning. I write unto you, young men, because ye have overcome the wicked one. I write unto you, little children, because ye have known the Father. I have written unto you, fathers, because ye have known him that is from the beginning. I have written unto you, young men, because ye are strong, and the word of God abideth in you, and ye have overcome the wicked one. Love not the world, neither the things that are in the world. If any man love the world, the love of the Father is not in him. For all that is in the world, the lust of the flesh, and the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life, is not of the Father, but is of the world. And the world passeth away, and the lust thereof: but he that doeth the will of God abideth for ever. --1 John 2
Over the years, I've had the privilege of working with a lot of little boys. For that matter, I've had the privilege of being acquainted with a lot of different kinds of men. Perhaps why I like a naughty little boy so very much is because, a naughty little boy is less likely to grow up and be deceitful. There is nothing that breaks a girl's heart worse than a deceitful man. I know from personal experience.
On the other hand, there is absolutely nothing that can even compare to a man who stands up by himself, quietly, humbly, with joy on his face and a song on his lips, loyal to his family...I'll quote something I heard an old Italian grandmother say when asked if she liked food or husbands better: "I like a husband better. Food, you spend hours and hours to fix it, you eat it, it's gone. A husband, he stays, he's by your side, you laugh, you cry, you get angry; yeah, he's there."
Got the picture? :)
Below, I hope, are some helpful items for your thinking. God bless you! --Anne
Wanna find out a few How-Tos? Okay, yeah, I'm a woman. How do I know how-to anything? (Hey, I know how to pound nails in straight, find and temporarily fix a leaky faucet, jimmy-rig a door shut with bungy cords, hang up pictures and curtains by myself, and PATCH SOCKS AND HOLES SO THAT CERTAIN MEN CAN WEAR THEIR CLOTHING DECENTLY, AND HAVE NO EXCUSE TO GO WITHOUT A COAT IN THE WINTER! --er, pardon me.)
Below, please find a few helpful items. Including: How to Pick a Girl, How to fix my HORRIBLE HEAD COLD, Setting Goals and Sticking To Them, Setting a Budget, etc.
HOW TO WASH DISHES! Yes, absolutely. No stains, grease or otherwise.
How to be a Superman!
(see tutorials below)
Heroes and Heroines
(edited, by Jessie A. Lee; excerpt from Parables of a Country Parson, by William Barton, or "Safed the Sage")
There came to me a man and a woman, even an Husband and his Wedded Wife, and they said, We are weary one of the other.
And I said, Why is it thus?
And they said, We have grown commonplace to each other. Once we were to each other an Hero and an Heroine, but now we are Neither.
And I said, Napoleon did not look heroic to Josephine after she had seen him with his Suspenders hanging down his back; neither did Clara Barton look heroic when she held her Front Hair in her mouth while she did up her back hair.
And they said, But he was an Hero, and she was an Heroine.
And I said, Heroes and Heroines cannot appear heroic all the time. Caesar did not look heroic when he had pushed his slippers too far back under the bed, and he had to get down and fish themout with an umbrella; but that be a necessary thing, even to Heroes and Heroines.
And I said unto the woman, When the Baby was sick, eight years ago, did not this thine Husband watch with thee day and night?
And she said, He did.
And I said unto the man, When thou hadst lost half thy money in a Fool Speculation, did she not stick by thee like a Little Burr, and cheer thee up, and never say, I told thee so?
And he said, It is even so.
And I said, Go down on your knees.
And they knelt.
And I said, Join hands.
And they did so.
And I prayed to God on their behalf, till there came to their eyes tears of Memory and Love.
And I smote them lightly on the back, and I said, I dub thee an Hero; I dub thee an Heroine.
And I sent them forth. And they lived happily ever afterward.
Yo!
Go grocery!
It's for everyone.
Wash and Wear like a Man! Laundry care 101
Don't fall for the fast money!
I know it's hard to get a job these days, but MLMs are not the answer!!!
Basics on Financing
Silver Dollar Pancakes
(excerpt from my book
Give Me This Mountain and Other Inspirational Stories)
SILVER DOLLAR Pancakes were an excellent reason to go to Grandma Lois’ house. Ever since David could remember, he had eaten them at 4:15 every afternoon. They were perfectly round, golden, miniature cakes that melted in the mouth with peanut butter and chocolate syrup. In fact, once David boasted to his mother of eating fifteen, but that was when he was only seven years old.
Silver Dollar Pancakes, however, were not the only thing attracting David to Grandma’s tiny Dutch cottage with clean white shutters, tucked up in the Appalachian Mountains.
David’s family lived at the bottom of the hill. They and several of his father’s brothers lived in the little neighborhood, along with their old neighbor, retired Dr. Jake, and Dr. Jake’s two affectionate English Setters. Often when he was a boy, David enjoyed playing with the children in the neighborhood, bringing home school pals. But somehow no special day was complete without hiking up the hill to see Grandma Lois. Her cheery, round face which popped out of the window to halloo a greeting appealed to David in a way he couldn’t explain.
When he was small, David ran at top speed after school up the pine tree-bordered hill to throw his arms around the generous waist. Sometimes Grandma Lois’s flowing skirts knelt in the dirt in her brilliant flower beds. David hid in the bushes and waited until her back was turned. Then slowly he crept up and jumped, throwing his arms around her back.
“David!” Grandma shrieked.
With a laugh, the boy dived as one arm reached to catch him.
“Alright, you win, you bundle of boyishness,” Grandma acquiesced. “Get a rake and we’ll clean this up, then I’ll make you some pancakes.”
Sometimes on a sunny day, they’d have a picnic, just the two of them, beneath the tall pine and oak trees. When David’s sister Grace grew older she would join them. Sometimes on snowy days, they spread their picnic indoors in front of the warm, crackling fire. On those days, David skied down the hill toward home, pulling his sister on the sled.
Grandma Lois’ home grew even dearer through the years. Her upright figure curved more than it used to do, her hair whitened, and her frame became more fragile.
Eventually manhood deepened David’s boyish voice, and a five o’clock shadow darkened his chin. His trips up the hill became more unselfish than just Silver Dollar Pancakes. Instead of leaping at his grandmother’s back, David carried with him tools and a wheelbarrow to harvest her garden, trim her lawn, prune her hedge, or re-shingle the sloping Dutch roof. The kind old lady took special pleasure in watching the bronze muscles flex with ease and the young face grow brown in the sun.
One day David trudged up the hill, looking as if each step had suddenly become more steep and wearisome. Grandma Lois correctly read his sad face. The ache his beloved mother left in his heart when she died of a heart attack two weeks ago was almost too much.
A mother can never know how great her influence is. Even her children do not learn it until they wake one day to find her gone. Her glad smile, gentle correction and busy, happy life makes more difference for her children than all the sermons in the world.
Many mothers feel like they waste their days at home. But only godly, stay-at-home mothers really understand how much is accomplished in the long hours of prayer and work she does. Even though she gives up everything, hopes, dreams, even her own separate identity, it is really the most beautiful investment she can ever make. When she dies, no one can replace it, and her children realize what an important person they lost.
Grandma Lois understood this. She too was a mother. Her boys were now strong men, but to have the wife one of her sons go home to Heaven touched Grandma Lois deeply. Even more, she knew that it was very hard for David. How she longed to throw her arms out to her grandson as she had done when he was small! But he was a man now; and the best way for men to grieve is by working hard, and having someone to go to for silent sympathy.
Heart aching, Granma Lois watched her beloved grandson climb the hill, his cheeks stained with tears. Setting a pleasant look on her wrinkled face, she called out cheerfully, “David, my boy! You’re just who I wanted! This old lady can’t make very fast progress with this rake.”
Warmth flooded David’s heart as he greeted the kindly face. Handing the rake to her grandson, Grandma Lois allowed her hand to rest on his briefly. Catching his eye, she beamed tenderly, letting her eyes speak for her. “You’ll come into the house after you’ve finished,” she told him, “and something will be waiting for you.”
David grinned to himself knowingly, and bent to work. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Grandma stumble on the steps. He dropped his rake and was quickly at her side.
“Grandma, are you all right?” he asked with concern.
Pale, she managed to smile and reply, “Oh, I think I just had another spell—you know, when I feel a little wobbly. Probably clumsiness. I’m all right now.”
In spite of her reassurances, David tucked her arm under his and helped her into the house. With extreme care he placed her in the armchair and placed a cushion under her feet.
“Now David,” Grandma protested, “I said I’m all right now. I’m not feeble yet. I can be up.” She smiled at the young man’s earnestness.
“Grandma, it’s time to put your feet up,” he replied firmly, tucking an afghan around her lap. “Stay here and I’ll be back.”
She watched fondly as David opened the door and took up the work with a whistle.
The sun was balmy. The air was fresh and zesty with early autumn fragrance. David’s strong shoulders straightened with the stimulating atmosphere. As he clipped and snipped, raked and swept, his mind revolved in and out of thought. Sometimes he lifted his eyes, as if trying to glimpse something beyond the tall trees that encircled the sky. So often, when Grandma’s wind chimes tinkled softly it seemed like a certain sweet, high voice was calling his name. David pounded nails harder into the loose fence board.
At last the work was done. Sliding lower in the sky, the sun melted sleepily into a pool of gold. When Grandma heard shoes clomping on the porch, she hastily tied on another apron and peeked at a mysterious plate covered by a lid.
“Grandma!” David hooted. “You made Silver Dollars!”
Grandma Lois whirled. “David! You did it again. I was going to let you think it was pork chops, and here you caught me peeking in to see that they are just right.”
David laughed and pulled out a chair for his grandmother. “You didn’t stay in your chair, Grandma,” he chided.
“I felt better—I had a little nap while you were working,” she replied slyly.
Seating himself at the worn oaken table, David prayed, “Lord, we thank You for providing this food, and for Your love and mercy. But thank You especially for my grandma and for making her the most wonderful lady on earth. Amen.”
Dousing her cakes with syrup, Grandma asked, “How is Grace? She hasn’t come lately to see me. And how about your little cousins Ben and Teddy?”
“Grace works at the grocery store more often,” explained David. “She does great at keeping house, even though she’s only sixteen. I’m glad she’s here. The boys have been busy with school.”
“Of course. Well, I pray for you all every day, especially lately.”
Tranquility settled over the little cottage. Songs of crickets and peepers wafted through the open window. Soft light from the lamp played shadows against the wall.
“Grandma,” David said at last, “I don’t think there’s anyone like you and Mom.”
The aged lady looked amused. “Nope. God never made another Lois Hale that was as stubborn as me.”
Laughter rippled over the supper dishes. “But I’m serious, Grandma. You and Mom…These girls I’ve met don’t even compare to you. All they live for is clothes and parties and…well, they just live for themselves.”
Grandma Lois cocked her head. “I know. It’s so sad. Many of them don’t know what it means to be a true lady. Not the kind of lady that wears fancy clothes—you know I don’t mean that. Someday, maybe not now, but someday, you’ll find someone special.”
David sheepishly picked at his food. Flushing he muttered, “I’m not interested in girls, Grandma. I’m more interested in living for Jesus.”
Grandma Lois patted David’s hand. “You know what makes a true woman, David?” Her blue eyes sparkled, watching the young face intently. “It’s the spirit. She needs to have a surrendered heart that doesn’t hold onto what she wants, or tries to get noticed. The young lady who is willing to stay in the shadows and show compassion like Jesus is the one you want, David.”
David nodded slowly. “Mom was like that. She always had people over, and tried to help them with their problems. Everybody came to her. She never said a lot, but somehow…it was just right.”
Grandma’s eyes warmed with affection. “I remember when your daddy brought her home to meet me that first time. I thought to myself, ‘She’s no ordinary girl.’ I could tell by her face. It was a humble, happy face, with deep, gentle eyes. She could brighten the whole room. Your mother was one of those rare people who learned the gift of hospitality and sympathy without overdoing it; because she knew by instinct what people needed.”
David’s face lit up so fondly that Grandma Lois blushed. “You have that gift too, Grandma. If I ever change my mind about girls and look for someone like you, I’ll do just fine.”
THE BREEZY hill experienced many changes. Glistening snowflakes swept past the colorful autumn leaves. Apple blossoms slipped in after the snowflakes, carpeting the ground with a different sort of white.
A sunny day greeted David on his 21st birthday. Blinking in bed a moment, he basked in the sun that bathed his face from the window. Pleasure seeped through him, but a wave of sadness followed it. “I wish Mom could be here,” he murmured to himself.
“David!” his sister’s voice called through the door. The young man stretched, arose from bed and threw the door open. “Good morning, Sleepy Bear,” Grace greeted her tousled brother. “It’s 8:00 by now, so I thought you’d be awake.”
“Eight o’clock? Did I sleep that late?” exclaimed David in disbelief.
Grace chuckled. “Yes, but you needed it. It’s Saturday, so you don’t have any work. I brought your coffee with some hot-cross buns. I remembered this morning that Mom…always did.” The sun shone on a tear in the corner of her eye.
David received the tray gently, placed it on the dresser and hugged his sister gently. “Thanks, Grace. You’re so much like Mom.”
Grace’s cheeks turned rosy. She squeezed her brother, swallowed and answered cheerfully, “Happy birthday, Mr. Gentleman.”
While Grandma and Grace worked up all sorts of mysteries in the house, David joined his father at the shed to do yard work. “Good morning and happy birthday,” Dad greeted David as he walked through the door.
“Thanks,” David flashed an appreciative look at his father. The corners around Dad’s eyes were lined and shadowed. David guessed that it was just as hard for him, this first birthday without Mom’s joyful presence.
Since men confide better with each other in silence than talk, the father and son worked silently side by side, running boards through the saw and sanding rough planks. At four o’clock, two boys burst through the door. Thirteen-year-old Ben wore a grin of satisfaction, while 10-year-old Teddy strutted around like a pleased peacock.
“Grandma says you should come at 5:00,” Ben informed the two men.
David winked at prancing Teddy. “Should I go check on them and see if they need help?”
Teddy crowed. “Ha! Wouldn’t that send Grandma through the roof! And Grace would swat you out with the broom, like she did me.”
“I think it would be better if you boys helped here. Your dad is fixing fences over in the pasture,” their uncle answered.
Crossing the garden path to the house, the aroma of home-cooking made the men’s stomachs growl.
Hungrily, the family sat down to the loaded table. Standing at her seat with Grace at her elbow, Grandma looked fondly at David. “Today, David, you’re 21, and I am blessed to celebrate this special day for you. Your father told me that there was something your mom often did when you were small. I know you’ll remember when you open this envelope. Grace…” At this, Grandma gave Grace a small envelope, who placed it on David’s empty plate.
A strange sensation tingled at his neck as David recognized that envelope. Slitting the seal with his knife, he removed a hand-made card, stamped with a single rose. On the front was written: “My Boy.”
Pain shot through his throat. Setting his jaw, he opened the card and read:
A son is a beautiful gift from the Lord.
A boy is a mother’s joy.
In so many forms,
Since you were born,
You’ve thrilled me, to know you’re my boy.
A man is a blessing
In all life’s distressing,
Perplexing hardships and days.
Now God has given you full manhood’s strength—
Walk always within His ways!
My David, my son,
You’re surely the one
God gave us for one special call.
Strive to walk on
In His strength alone—
And joy you will bring to us all.
I love you always, my David. Ever praying, your mother
David re-read the card, tears streaming from his eyes. “I will, Mother,” he whispered huskily.
“DAVID,” GRACE stated one afternoon.
David peered upwards from untying his shoes. “What?” he grunted.
“Guess what? There’s a big youth retreat at Mayfield on Friday. It’s a camp-out for the weekend, and we’ll do a lot of singing, and playing games. Could we could go together?”
David straightened and shook off his boot. “Probably. I’ll have to see if I can get off work on Monday. It sounds fun. Should we take Ben? He’s fifteen now.”
“Why not? We all love to sing,” Grace agreed.
As she busied herself wiping lunch dishes, Grace hummed snatches of song. David smiled at her. How pretty she was, with her simple, graceful manners. He was thankful she enjoyed taking care of them! She was so different from all the other girls he knew, content to make home happy, and not always striking out for attention or a career.
Abruptly Grace turned on her brother. “David,” she simpered. Cocking her head much like Grandma Lois, she threw a question at him like a bullet. “Don’t you think it’s about time to be looking for someone special?” A teasing glint flashed in her eye. “You’re twenty-three by now, and it gets rather lonesome around here without any sisters.”
David studiously avoided the question. “Grandma’s still here.”
“David, you know exactly what I’m talking about.”
David sighed. Just when he had been thinking such thankful, kind thoughts, now Grace had to ask him this.
He rose and grabbed a towel. “Well, sister of mine,” he said playfully, “what kind of sister do you want? One with fluorescent clothing, or one that paints her face like Jezebel and makes her hair stick out on all sides?”
Grace snorted. “David, you know I don’t mean that kind.”
“Well, who do you mean?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” she sighed. “I wish some girls would just realize that modesty is beautiful!”
“Amen!” cried David emphatically.
“But there has to be someone out there, David. I just hate to see you so…lonely and sad-looking. You need a friend.”
“You’re a good friend,” he answered fondly.
Grace’s telltale cheeks lit up. “And I’m glad for such a kind, gentle brother. But I wish you could be happy, David.”
“What makes you think I’m not?” he questioned evasively.
“Oh, David, I’m not blind! It’s been hard for us all since…since Mom died.”
“You’re done a great job filling her spot, Grace.”
Grace’s eyes filled unexpectedly. “Thank you,” she said quietly.
The brother and sister dried dishes in silence for a moment. Then a triumphant glow crept across Grace’s face. “I know, David. I am sure you’ll find someone this weekend. If you meet anybody, it will be there.”
David remained wisely silent.
THE Campgrounds at Maysville overflowed with enthusiastic young people. After a day of activities, they gathered in a large circle while the Youth Leader stood up on the platform in the middle.
“Good evening!” he greeted them with a broad smile. “I trust we’ve all come tonight with one purpose: to sing, pray and praise the Lord! You probably think, ‘of course!’ but let’s consider how important singing is.
“Hymns are prayers put to music—let’s make sure we are reverent and whole-hearted! Also, when we gather to praise the Lord and share testimonies of what He’s done for us, we can build friendships. Encouraging each other is an important point of following Jesus.
“There’s a lot of things you could be doing tonight, like smiling at your girlfriend, whispering, passing notes, looking around and wishing it was over. But why don’t you take this time to worship God? Don’t detracting from the beauty of worship. We can practice for Heaven tonight, because in Heaven you’d better believe we’ll do a lot of singing! Now is the time we can make our voices and hearts in tune with God and each other. Would anyone like to come up and start a song or share a testimony?”
David followed several other young people to the front. Songs echoed joyfully under the night sky. In his mind, David imagined what how much his mother must be enjoying it up in Heaven.
When he stood in front of the sea of faces, he felt momentarily nervous. Clutching the songbook, he stood silent. At that minute Grace caught his eye and nodded encouragingly. With a strong voice he began, “Good evening. I’ve enjoyed singing these songs, and I hope you have as well. Singing is something that the Lord gave us to lift us up when we’re sad. My favorite song, ‘In This Life We Have Sorrows and Burdens,’ has special meaning to me. Hard things come so often to our lives. It was really hard to lose my mom.” David’s voice grew hoarse for a moment, but he went on boldly, “As the song says, ‘there are times that we don’t understand. But He’ll make it plain in the morning, so we’ll hold to His unchanging hand.’ Do you put your trust in God, and accept that He’ll show us ‘why’ someday? Or do you let hard things make you bitter? What are you aiming for in life? Do you just want to make money, get a nice car, hang out with your friends and try out as many girl or boyfriends as you can? Or do you want to live for Jesus? He didn’t have any of those things, but He was the happiest man that ever lived. Because of Jesus, we can never be the same. I’d like to leave us with this focus tonight: ‘We shall rest by the side of the river, when we cross o’er the deep, rolling tide. With the angels we’ll sing there forever, and with Jesus we’ll ever abide.’”
While David shared from his heart, a solemn quiet settled over the thoughtful listeners. One tender young face allowed tears to slide down her cheeks. What trust that young man had in Jesus, she thought. Leaning over, she whispered to Grace, who was sharing her songbook, “Who is he?”
“My brother David,” Grace answered a second before everyone zealously began, “In this life we have sorrows and burdens…”
Much to the young people’s disappointment, the evening ended. Ben shadowed his older cousin as David visited with other young men in the crowd. At 9:30 David began to look for Grace, and found her stuffed into a happy corner with another young lady. The small, quiet form in light blue shrunk instinctively toward the wall as David strode up to them. Grace squeezed her hand reassuringly and turned to her brother.
“They’ll probably be telling us to go back to camp soon.” David said.
“Not for a while yet,” Grace returned mischievously. “I was enjoying myself and I don’t want to leave. This is my new friend Libbie Stulzfus.”
For the first time, David noticed the girl beside his sister. She was very quiet, but somehow her modest, sweet face reminded him of his mother.
“Hello,” he nodded affably. “My name is David.”
“I’m Libby,” she replied. “Grace told me that you traveled several hours to get here. Maybe you met Matt?”
“Oh, sure I did. He’s over there, isn’t he?” David motioned to a tall, amiable youth not far away. “Are you enjoying yourself?”
“Oh, yes,” Libby replied. “I went once before; and Matt has come several times to the yearly retreat. They serve snacks after this, and we usually don’t break up until about 10:30.”
“Ok.”
“Would you excuse me, please? I need to ask my brother something. I’ll be back in a moment,” Libbie dismissed herself, and walked gracefully toward her brother.
Grace beamed, spilling over with eagerness. “David, she’s so sweet,” she burbled. “I wish Maysville was closer, but we decided to keep in touch. She likes a lot of the same things I do. She’s so much more mature than the girls we know in the neighborhood. She’s about seventeen, and…”
“Seventeen!” David interrupted. “I thought she was way older…”
“Sshh! David.” Grace puckered her face in disapproval. “I know, I thought she was older too, but she’s a real lady. You’ll really like her. Here she comes.”
When Matt and his sister joined them, the young men pumped each other’s hands for the second time that evening. Matt and Libbie showed David and Grace where the line for snack was, and afterwards the foursome sat by the lake on the pier, legs dangling over the water. They chatted happily, enjoying their time with other God-fearing young people. Silently they watched the moon rise like a queen, making light spill everywhere.
“David,” Matt said. “You said something tonight when you gave your testimony, about your mom…When did…?”
“A couple years ago,” David replied.
“Sorry about that,” Matt sympathized. “I don’t know what I’d do without my mom.” He glanced down, swallowing a lump in his throat.
The sound of Libbie’s gentle voice made David turn his head to listen. Until now, she had not said much, but her words touched something deep down inside his heart. “I was blessed by your testimony. It must have taken a lot of courage and strength to say what you did. Lots of times we forget really why we are here to live. Heaven must be really close to you, now that your mom is there.”
Was it the compassion in her voice or the moonlight playing on her rich brown eyes that made David remember something Grandma Lois had said? She was one of those rare people who learned the gift of hospitality and sympathy, without overdoing it; because she knew by instinct what people needed.
“Thank you,” David answered. “It’s something God’s been teaching me. I’m thankful to lean on His ‘unchanging hand’, and to know that I have a grandma and sister who do a lot of praying for me.”
“Well, you’ve got friends to pray for you too,” Matt said, patting his friend’s back.
THE TINY Dutch cottage was once more surrounded by blooming apple trees. A year had passed, but it looked the same as all those other years. A veil of white blossoms trailed down that hill and coated the bright flower beds. The white shutters were never so clean and sparkling as today, David thought, climbing the hill after work. Grandma Lois had gone home to Jesus; but someone else now lived in the beautiful Dutch cottage. Eagerly he looked around for that smiling face that was even dearer to him than the one who always used to greet him here.
Libby’s rosy, petite face shown like a light from the window. Her brown eyes sparkled as they saw him, disappearing for a moment inside the cottage. To his delight, David saw the small figure fly swiftly down the hill to meet him, her long skirts and headscarf fluttering behind her in the wind.
“David!” Libbie’s voice sang. “Come! Tell me what you think.”
David kissed his wife and tucked her arm beneath his own before glancing at their new home. Libbie had planted geraniums in the old horses’ trough by the creek, just like Grandma Lois always did. A pitcher of wildflowers brightened the windows. The porch was clean and swept. Then he noticed…beneath the pine and oak trees was a checkered tablecloth, neatly spread with two settings, and a plate piled high with what David guessed were Silver Dollar Pancakes.
Looking affectionately at his wife’s glowing face, he took her into his arms. “I think,” he said, “that I could never have found anyone else who lights up a home like you do. I remember something Grandma once told me. She said that the spirit is what makes a true woman. As she said, ‘She needs to have a surrendered heart that doesn’t hold onto what she wants, or tries to get noticed. The young lady who is willing to stay in the shadows and show compassion like Jesus is the one you want, David.’ And you’re just like her, Libbie.”
