Spring Again, and Again, and Again...

I love Spring…awakening to bird song, browns and greys turning to lush greens, life bursting from every crevice! No wonder I am thrilled to be experiencing Spring for the third time this year. That’s right –this late Iowa spring, long in the coming, interrupted this morning by light snow, is my third!










My second Spring was experienced in South Carolina the last week of March.
























In February I had the privilege of traveling to Wales for Heart of God East Africa. I traveled with Denise and Jan –a whirlwind trip, but so beautiful, inspiring, and fruitful. I certainly didn’t expect to be greeted by Spring there, but what a wonderful surprise to discover green grass, crocus and daffodils brightening up the landscape.























We were met in London by our hosts, Mary and Alwyn. Mary is the founder of King's Primary School, the school in Bunambutye, Uganda, where I have visited the past two summers.













Up until the time of our visit, we had only communicated with Mary by email, so of course we wondered if communication would be easier or more difficult in person; if it would take some time to warm up to each other, or if we would feel an immediate connection. The five hour drive with three of us squeezed into the back seat of their compact car provided plenty of time for "warming up." Along the way we each shared our testimony of coming to know Jesus Christ. What a precious time of instant bonding!











As we entered Wales, we soon became accustomed to seeing all the signs printed in both English and Welsh.












Mary drove us to their home in Abertysswg Village, nearly five hours from the airport. Abertysswg means “mouth of the river, ” and was originally built as a mining town.






















Mary and Alwyn’s home is called Glan Yr Afon, or “river side.” One of the only stand-alone houses in the village, it is over 100 years old. The setting couldn’t have been more idyllic.












































































I particularly loved this view from my bedroom window...












Mary and Alwyn made us feel welcome and comfortable. They invited some other friends of King’s Primary School to come and meet us, and we all had such a great time of fellowship. What a treat to be their guests! We made some exciting plans for the school, and decided on some projects for the large team that will be traveling there in July of this year. One of the men, an engineer who helped to build the school, has made plans that our team will use to wire the school for electricity. It has been so amazing to see God working through these plans, providing just the right people for the jobs! He has answered each prayer so specifically, that we can’t help but see that He is in it!






























We had time for a little sightseeing, too. Caerphilly…















































































Cardiff Bay…




















































The Welsh Parliament…












































Theatre of the Arts…





























It was an amazing trip that ended too soon, but as we returned from sightseeing this bit of graffiti spotted on a wall reminded us of our united purpose...











So true! The Bible states it this way, "The heart is deceitful above all things and desperately wicked. Who can know it?"* We are here to confirm that God is in the business of intimately knowing and changing hearts in Iowa, California, Ohio, Wales, and Uganda!

"Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, He is a new creation. The old is gone. The new has come!"**. Now, doesn't that sound like Spring?


* Jeremiah 17:9

** 2 Corinthians 5:17

Fishin' Fer Men

I scrounged up this poem I wrote several years ago for today's Friday Fiction. It's not what I typically write -mostly jest fer fun.



Fishin’ Fer Men
by Sharlyn Guthrie

“Ernie, put yer waders on.
Go grab yer pole an’ lure.
Reckon I don’t hafta tell
ya’ what them things are fer.

Now tell th’ missus s’long
then hop in this here truck.
Down yon at Lake Kahoochee
we’ll try our trollin’ luck.

I sure ‘nuf knows it’s Sunday,
but ‘tisn’t ever’ day
th’ catfish are a bitin’
same as they are t’day.

Besides, it’s by the churchyard.
We’ll hear th’ choir singin’.
We’ll have a taste o’ Heaven
while our catch we’re stringin’.

I musta been convincin’;
‘took less than a minute.
Th’ missus ain’t too happy?
Shoot! She’ll soon forget it.

Now Hold th’ worm can, Ernie.
--dug ‘em fresh this mornin’.
I ain’t got time fer preachin’;
it’s oh so dry, an’ borin’.

Reckon th’ times a’comin’
I’ll hafta change my ways.
‘Til then I’ll jes’ keep fishin’.
Ain’t got no need t’ pray.

Yer mighty quiet, Ernie.
Th’ cat done got yer tongue?
Now you’ll forget th’ missus
Soon as yer line is flung.

That’s Blindman’s Knob we’re climbin’
--nearly there, by jiggered!
We both can get t’ baitin’
quicker than I figgered.

Doggone it! Nothin’s happnin’…
I’m pushin’ on th’ brake!
Good Lawd! We are a headin’
straight for Kahoochee Lake!”

Now Deacon Joe wuz fixin’
fer Sunday’s meetin’ when
he heard a loud commotion
an’ shoutin’, cursin’ men.

He scurried through the meadow
an’ down the slipp’ry bank
in time t’ see Lyle’s pick-up
jes’ sinkin’ like a tank.

The two men thrashed an’ hollered
t’ save their drownin’ souls.
Out there among the rushes
Joe found their fishin’ poles.

Joe cast an’ hooked Lyle’s britches
an’ as he reeled him in,
Lyle snagged Ernie’s suspenders;
he stretched ‘em mighty thin!

Two wet an’ red-faced anglers
flopped on Kahoochee’s shore.
They thanked the Lord in Heaven
t’ be on land once more.

“Well fellas, I’ll be headin’
back over t’ th’ church.
Guess you’ll be comin’ with me
since yer left in th’ lurch.”

Joe hooked one arm through Ernie’s,
th’ other one through Lyle’s.
folks saw that passel comin’
An’ they broke into smiles.

Down front, right near th’ altar
Ernie caught his missus.
A worm crawled down her cheek as
he laid on the kisses.

A humbled Lyle and Ernie
both took to repentin’.
Th’ preacher let ‘em finish
then did his commentin’.

“This here’s an illustration
of truth y’all have heard.
Ol’ Deacon Joe is righteous
an’ listens t’ God’s Word.

‘An when he sees a sinner
a-drownin’ in his ways
old Joe’ll go a fishin’
th’ dyin’ soul t’ save.

Some folks don’t meet th’ Savior
While sittin’ in a pew.
They hafta git reminded
a’ what God’s grace can do.

So boys, keep up yer fishin’.
But ever’ now an’ then,
instead o’ snaggin’ catfish
go fishin’ fer some men.”



“The fruit of the uncompromisingly righteous is a tree of life, and he who is wise captures human lives for God, as a fisher of men--he gathers and receives them for eternity.” Proverbs 11:30 (AMP)



Catrina is hosting Fiction Friday today at her blog Speak to the Mountain. I hope you will pay her blog a visit, or better yet, join us!

One Day's Worth of Love

"Be kindly affectioned one to another
with brotherly love;
in honour preferring one another." Romans 12:10 (KJV)

Two year old Claire and five year old Noah have had their share of spats lately. I am amazed at how competitive they are, especially considering their age and gender differences. What starts as taunting can soon erupt into all-out war.

Their mom and dad have very specific consequences for unkind behavior:

Hitting or pushing = time out, facing the wall
Taking toys away = loss of the privilege of playing with that toy
Teasing or aggravating = separation from each other (-interesting that this works!)
Using unkind words = say something kind/loving

Saturday evening I helped with crafts at a family Valentine party held at our church. The children made valentines for a family member or friend, then enclosed a customized “coupon” as a gift. I explained all of this to Noah, who had just finished making a valentine for Mom and Dad. He then sat pondering what to write on his coupon. Finally, he wrote, “I will love Claire for…”

“Oh, that’s a good one, Noah. Are you going to love her for one whole week?”

“A year!” he exclaimed, but quickly changed his mind, “…or maybe a day.”

Along with the other adults in the craft room I tried to stifle my snickers.

In the end his coupon read, “I will love Claire for 1 day.”

I admire Noah’s childish honesty, knowing that even one day is no small commitment. Sure, a day doesn’t sound like much when compared to the week I suggested, or to Noah’s grand aspirations of a year, but I’m guessing that keeping that promise for an entire day will be mighty tough!

“Be kindly affectioned to one another with brotherly love; in honor preferring one another.” This is no mushy Valentine sentiment, but a command concerning our brothers and sisters in Christ. In fact, John 13:35 says that this is how others will know that we are Christians -by the love we show toward one another.

If I am honest I must admit, like Noah, that I struggle in this area. I am not always as patient or tenderhearted with my brothers and sisters in Christ as I should be. I sometimes insist on my own way, and I don’t always share. I can say hurtful things, sometimes in the form of gossip...and the list goes on.


I think I will borrow Noah’s idea and write my Father a Valentine coupon:

VALENTINE COUPON To: My Father God
Redeemable For: loving my brothers and sisters for 1 day
Note #1: Coupon may be redeemed as often as needed
Note #2: I can't do this without your help!
Signed: Your child, Sharlyn

Yvonne is hosting Monday Manna today at My Back Door.

When Love Came Knocking

When Love Came Knocking
by Sharlyn Guthrie


The street was empty and dark except for flickering television sets illuminating the clouded windows of broken down trailers. A woman’s shrieks shredded the silence, but no one noticed. An infant’s cry soon erupted. Lucy Bryant had given birth to her fourth child. The twenty two year old slumped back onto her filthy bed, leaving the wet, scrawny infant untouched between her legs.

“Mama?” Jasmine’s eyes stretched as wide as lollipops.

“What’re you lookin’ at? Git! And take him with you. He needs a bath.” Lucy used the kitchen knife from the nightstand to slice through the cord.

Regarding the wiggling creature with wonder, the six-year-old gathered him up in a bed sheet. “Mama, can we keep this one?”

“Dunno. Just let me get some sleep.”

“I’d like you gooder if you was a sister, but you can’t help it you’re a boy.” Jasmine filled the bathroom sink half-full of water, dipped her brother in and out several times, then rubbed him dry with the bed sheet. His head wobbled and his legs stiffened as he screamed, reddening his transparent skin.

Several hours later, Lucy found them nestled together, the newborn swaddled in Jasmine’s outgrown Little Mermaid tee shirt. Despair overwhelmed her. Light-headed and weak, Lucy packed a few essentials and fled.

Falls Creek Bible Church would begin its summer children’s program next week. As Laura Rayburn drove home from the planning meeting, something or Someone urged her to turn along the rough, narrow lane she usually passed without a thought. Guilt and shame tore at her tender heart as she drove through the impoverished community. Why hadn’t she or her church family ever reached out to these hurting people?

Silently petitioning the Lord for protection and courage, Laura stretched across two broken steps to rap on a door. Putrid air poured out of the dilapidated trailer, surrounding the wisp of a girl who appeared. Dark half-moons under the child’s eyes made her appear old and haggard.

“Hi, I’m Laura. May I speak to your mother or father?”

“I’m Jasmine. I don’t got no mother or father.”

“May I come in?” The question from her own mouth startled Laura. She hadn’t planned to go inside, and yet something or Someone propelled her forward, through the open door.

Laura gasped when the rag doll on the couch suddenly drew breath and wailed. “That’s my brother.” Jasmine intoned.

‘What’s his name?” Laura questioned.

“I dunno. I just call him Brother.”

Apprehension nibbled at Laura’s insides, but she reached for the child. “May I?”

“You can’t have him. He’s mine.”

“Oh, Honey, I’m not taking him, I just want to hold him.”

“His head isn’t on very tight.”

“Okay, I’ll be careful.” The bit of childish wisdom produced a wan smile.

The infant was weak and much too thin, Laura realized with alarm. He wasn’t even wearing a diaper. “When did he last have a bottle?”

“Oh! I give him one whenever he cries. I found Jake’s old bottle in the cupboard.”

“Jake?”

“He was my brother, too. A social worker took him away with the last baby. Are you a social worker?”

“No.” Laura sank into the couch, nauseated and tearful. “I came here to tell you that Jesus loves you. Do you know about Jesus?”

“I don’t know any Jesus. Is he a friend of yours?”

“Well, yes. He is. He wants to be your friend, too, Jasmine. Could you use some help taking care of this little guy?”

Jasmine’s eyes searched the floor surrounding her dirty bare feet. “I guess so. We’re out of milk. Babies got to have milk, don’t they? He needs diapers, too. I hafta keep changing his shirts. Can Jesus help me take care of him?”

“Listen, Jasmine,” Laura squatted, peering into two deep, serious eyes. “Jesus is God’s Son. We can’t see Him, but He hears our prayers. I’m going to pray right now and ask Him to get you the help you need. Okay?”

Jasmine had an invisible friend, too, but she knew that hers was make-believe. Laura seemed to think her friend, Jesus, was real. Jasmine liked the way Laura smiled when she talked to Him. Brother cuddled into Laura’s shoulder and Jasmine slid slender arms around Laura’s waist, pressing into her as she dialed for help on her cell phone.

Surprised by the warmth surging through her, Jasmine exclaimed, “This must be love!” Then, closing her eyes as Laura had done, she whispered, “Thank you, Jesus.”



Karlene is Hosting Fiction Friday at Homespun Expressions today. Please pay her a visit to find more great fiction or to post your own story.

Oh, He Speaks!

“God spoke,” some say, “but speaks no longer -like Grandfather who rocks and smiles, and rocks some more, notions and musings buttoned under his sweater.”

Oh, He speaks to those with ears to hear, ears trembling with expectancy like hummingbirds hovering in anticipation. His words flow soft and warm; sweet and satisfying as nectar. Long for them; expect them; listen. Shh…

“We have His Word,” they say, “His Word in black and white, like letters from a far-off soldier love pregnant with promise of His return. It should be enough,” they say. “No one has heard from Him for centuries.”

He is the Word, the Word preceding black and white; the Word that breathed it; the Word that lives and breathes still –ever breathing, ever speaking utterances too holy to repeat. Yes, He speaks through words penned centuries ago; speaks through beings and things created; speaks through ironic circumstance. Can the everlasting Word be silent? Oh, He speaks to those who would be still; reminds, reassures, repeats love’s declarations. Shh…be still.

Crying out from self-made altar strewn with leftovers -hardly a sacrifice, we beg and bully Him. “Where are You, God? Do you hear me? Speak, God! I’m listening. Are you in the wind? The fire? The storm? If You are God, Speak.”

“Here I am! I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door I will come in and eat with him and he with me.” *

“Arise, come, my darling; my beautiful one, come with me.” **

“A silent observer… ” naysayers claim. “God watches and waits; His creation waits too, for the roar signaling death’s death once and for all times -like fabled silver swan whose death song is His first, finest and final proclamation.”

Observer? Yes. Silent? …Only to those who listen blind. Oh yes, He speaks! Be still and hear.


* Revelation 3:20 (NIV Bible)
** Song of Solomon 2:10b (NIV Bible)

Rocket Science

“No, the word is very near you; it is in your mouth and in your heart so you may obey it.” Deuteronomy 30: 14(NIV Bible)

Moses is speaking to the Israelites in this verse –reiterating a message he was commanded by God to deliver. In Deuteronomy 29 and the first part of 30 the terms of the covenant God made with the Israelites are laid out in the clearest language possible. Then, in order to emphasize that they are fully capable of understanding it, he adds this:

11 Now what I am commanding you today is not too difficult for you or beyond your reach. 12 It is not up in heaven, so that you have to ask, “Who will ascend into heaven to get it and proclaim it to us so we may obey it?” 13 Nor is it beyond the sea, so that you have to ask, “Who will cross the sea to get it and proclaim it to us so we may obey it?” 14 No, the word is very near you; it is in your mouth and in your heart so you may obey it. Deuteronomy 30: 11-14 (NIV Bible)

I love the imagery here of the lengths to which people might go to obtain something of great value. God is making the point that His priceless truth is easily accessible –easy for even the simple minded to grasp. A good paraphrase of this section of Moses’ speech might be, “It’s not rocket science, people!” God wanted to make it clear that there were no excuses when it came to recognizing and obeying Him, at least in a general sense, and with knowledge comes accountablility.

Of course this message was specifically for the Israelites, who were taught about God from childhood on, and who witnessed God’s intervention on their behalf on many occasions. But I am reminded of some similar verses in Romans that make me believe this principle can be more broadly applied:

18 The wrath of God is being revealed from heaven against all the godlessness and wickedness of people, who suppress the truth by their wickedness, 19 since what may be known about God is plain to them, because God has made it plain to them. 20 For since the creation of the world God’s invisible qualities—his eternal power and divine nature—have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made, so that people are without excuse. Romans 1:18-20 (NIV Bible)

This time God is speaking to and about the general population, or at least that part of the general population that has rejected him. So it would seem that everyone is capable of grasping a basic understanding of who God is and what constitutes good and evil, regardless of whether they have heard or accepted the specifics of the Gospel.

Several years ago during a psychology class at a secular college, my professor (a self-proclaimed non-believer in Christ) began discussing abortion. “I support abortion as a necessary evil in our society,” he said. “If we are honest with ourselves, I think everyone knows that abortion is morally wrong. However, when it comes down to individual circumstances –if it is my sister who is raped, or my teenage daughter who becomes pregnant- I can’t say that I would choose for them what I know is the most moral choice.”

While the professor’s position is sad, I have to admire his honesty. His statement is also an apt illustration of God’s word being obvious and easy to grasp, even for non-believers.

But God’s truth is even more obvious to those of us who have become His sons and daughters through the grace of Jesus Christ. Aren’t I even more accountable before God, then, when it comes to obeying His commandments, just as the Israelites were in their time and culture?

It is my sinful nature that causes me to point out perceived discrepancies in Scripture, to seek out exceptions to the rules, to justify what I know in my heart is sin. In truth, if I am honest with myself, God’s word is simple. I read it often, it is written on my heart, I speak of it to others with my lips, and even now my fingertips proclaim it as I type. When it comes to obeying it, I am fully accountable –without excuse. It’s not Rocket Science!



Vonnie at My Back Door is hosting Monday Manna today.

Just Ask

And he [Jesus] did not do many miracles there because of their lack of faith. Matthew 13:58

The story is told in the verses preceding this one that Jesus came to His hometown planning to minister to his neighbors and friends, just as He had to the multitudes in other cities. His teaching surprised and amazed them, alright. But the locals weren’t convinced. He was one of them. The women washed clothes at the river with His mother, Mary; Joseph, His father, constructed their cabinets; and each of his brothers and sisters were literally “the guy or girl next door.” Nothing Jesus could say or do convinced them that He had any more power or authority than anyone else in town.

Jesus sensed their disbelief. He tried, but failed to gain their trust. Daily in other locations He was approached by those with needs or sicknesses, and He performed miracle after miracle. The simple act of requesting aid, of bringing the sick and the lame to Jesus, you see, demonstrated faith in Him. Evidently, Jesus’ hometown friends and neighbors didn’t line up, expecting the miraculous. Despite Jesus’ reputation and obvious words of wisdom, their hearts were clouded by disbelief and cynicism.

I think I experienced a tiny glimpse of what Jesus must have felt at the end of my Preschool class today. While several children finished up their snacks, I let the remaining children do somersaults on gym mats. “It’s time to line up. Your parents are here,” I announced after several rounds of somersaulting.

Immediately, a child just finishing his snack at the table burst into tears. “You didn’t let me have a turn!” he wailed.

I didn’t immediately go to him. First, I lined up the children who immediately followed directions. When I did approach him I said, “You know, if you had just asked me, I would have made sure you had a turn on the mat before you had to go. Next time, don’t cry. Just ask.”

This illustration may be a stretch -I certainly can't perform miracles like Jesus did- but I was disappointed that my student didn’t trust me enough to ask a simple favor, or to expect that I might grant him one. Jesus must have felt that way, too, when the people who watched him grow up, who worked with him, worshipped with him, and knew his entire family heard his message, but didn’t trust his heart enough to ask for favors. Since few were asked for, few were granted.

How often have I been guilty of the same thing? Do I always see God as a loving Father who wants the very best for me? Do I trust His heart enough to go to Him with each and every concern and request, fully expecting Him to do the miraculous, or do I try to fix things on my own, assuming that God won’t give me the results I want, anyway?

Father God, help me always to remember who You are; to come to You often, trusting in Your goodness, believing in Your power, expecting the miraculous.

If you would like to participate in this meme or read more thoughts on this verse, you will find the links at An Open Book. I am so excited that Joanne decided to start Monday Manna up once again!

Breathe!

Breathe!
By Sharlyn Guthrie

From the sea fate called to me,
harmless ‘round my ankles danced.
Brimming with frivolity
my heart leaped in, taking the chance.

Like my mood the waves were grand,
spurting high above the swells,
blithely scooping up the sand,
rearranging all the shells.

Eagerly I caught the next,
rode its fluid, forceful back,
felt the muscle that it flexed-
surging strength my spirit lacked.

Repeatedly I safely lit
with abandon, bliss and pride.
I rode each crest with half a wit,
trusting fluctuating tide.

Heedless, forging deeper still,
I left the safety of the shore,
seeking yet a greater thrill
above the ocean’s mighty roar.

At last I rode so deep, so far
my feeble arms could never swim
to yonder shore or distant bar.
I journeyed there upon a whim.

Until then, fate was my friend.
Suddenly he turned about-
turned deserter in the end,
mimicking my panicked shout.

Breakers crashed above my head,
felled me with tremendous force.
I sank down with fear and dread,
gulped salt water and remorse.

Flailing arms grasped liquid air.
Vain, I’d failed to leash my board.
Absorbed with merriment, I’d dared
to take my eyes off of the shore.

Hopeless, helpless I was tossed.
Billows whirled and whipped about.
I knew then that all was lost,
perceived it well, without a doubt.

As the ocean roiled and seethed
sturdy arms lifted my head,
bidding me to simply breathe…
“Breathe!” is all the Lifeguard said.

One breath, I think of it, amazed!
Strength restored, spirit renewed.
Refocusing my fickle gaze,
I saw that I had been pursued.

Foolishly I’d rushed to play.
Wiser eyes followed me there.
Though I drifted far away,
He marked my every move with care.

I soon inhaled with greater ease.
Deft, He steered me to the shore.
With gratitude my heart was seized.
The Lifeguard gave me life once more.

This poem is fictional, in that I have never even tried surfing. I hope the analogy and application are clear, though. I wrote this several years ago for the topic, "Breathe". Visit Vonnie at My Back Door to find links to more great Friday Fiction.

Color in Black and White

The world outside my window is grayscale today. Snow covers the lawn and shrubs. Trees splay their branches like black, wispy webs against colorless sky, light snow filling the spaces between them. Another winter day begins. The new fallen snow is dull, lacking the glistening of sunshine upon it. I long for sunshine and the warmth that sunshine allows me to imagine, even when the temperature hovers well below freezing.

Don’t misunderstand. I love snow, but in mid-winter I long for the colors of the other seasons: spring green foliage dotted with pink, yellow, and white blossoms; vibrant roses, gerbera daisies, and zinnias of summer; autumn’s leaves in hues of gold, brown, and red. Comparatively, winter is drab, color seemingly suspended, along with hibernating reptiles and dormant tulip bulbs.

I am as drawn to color as a hummingbird that on summer days is attracted to the boldest of blooms. My wardrobe has always been vibrant, much to the chagrin of my fashion expert friends. Classic whites, beiges, and blacks are rare finds in my closet. When I first happened upon a “Dressing Gaudy” store, I flitted furiously from rack to rack in great excitement, resembling said hummingbird. I rejoiced, knowing that others of my kind existed in numbers at least great enough to justify our own store.

Upon traveling to Africa, I was delighted to discover many more of my kind while attending an event of high intensity, both in color and energy. African women came swathed in bold batik and kente fabrics, boasting every polychromatic tint and hue. In a culture of almost exclusively earthen toned backdrops, colorful adornments ignite both the landscape and the spirit.

In expressing my delight over this visual feast I remarked to my African hostess on the contrast between colorful African attire versus Americans’ more casual, reserved color and style preferences. “Americans take so much for granted,” she stated simply. I knew she was right, and I also knew that her comment encompassed more than color choices. I felt rich in the midst of Africa’s extreme poverty, and conspicuously healthy as I witnessed firsthand the effects of AIDS and other serious illnesses.

I smile on this dreary day, envisioning ebony women in bright raiment dancing in settings of sepia. The memory sends me twirling in my plaid housecoat, pirouetting in pink fluffy slippers. A flash of red in a setting of gray stops me mid-turn, causing me to pause and peer out my kitchen window.



I lean against the counter, taking in the vision. A red-headed woodpecker with black and white flecked belly hangs upside down on the birdfeeder. Slightly faded gold finches select their favorite offerings from above, dropping several tidbits to the ground below, where a cardinal cheerfully retrieves them.









Two brilliant blue jays flapping azure wings arrive, sending the finches skyward and the cardinal to nearby branch where it preens its scarlet plumage. The picture perfect scene is stunning.

Color, it occurs to me, is greatly enhanced by lackluster surroundings. In the same way that good health is more valued in the context of AIDS, and wealth against a backdrop of poverty, color is more beautiful in grayscale.

Do you suppose that, knowing this, the world’s Master Architect and Builder wisely planned for vibrant birds to spice up winter landscapes? Today, as I survey the scene in my own backyard, I am more convinced than ever that He did. Today I realize anew that I have taken much for granted.

All That Bristles is not a Broom

Continuing on the subject of wise sayings, I thought I would share this story I wrote for the Faithwriters challenge topic "Illustrate the saying, 'Don't cut off your nose to spite your face'." You can probably tell that I had a lot of fun writing it!













All That Bristles Is Not a Broom
by Sharlyn Guthrie


Tall, lean Bromley Bristlemore is a broom maker. His wiry blonde hair fans out evenly in every direction, meeting his bushy beard on both sides of his face. Bromley himself could easily be imagined as a broom standing up on its stick. His grandfather founded Bristlemore Brooms, claiming the motto, “the best broom money can buy.” Three generations later Bromley was swept into the business with the untimely passing of his father.

Unfortunately, by the time Bromley and his new bride, Bea, came on the scene nobody was buying brooms. Once a stiff competitor, Bristlemore Brooms had lost its edge. “Broom making is all I know,” Bromley stated with a tone of finality as Bea pressed him to discuss their options. And so a disenchanted, discouraged Bromley continued his daily habit of binding broom corn to expertly turned birch handles. Then he stacked each finely crafted specimen in an ever-growing pile –simply because he couldn’t think of anything else to do.

Bea sat helplessly by until she could take it no longer. The couple needed an income, and Bromley’s brooms were not selling. Not one to despair, Bea got busy instead. First, she swept the cobwebs from the showroom window, cleaning it until it sparkled. Next, she fashioned a viewing counter near enough to the window to be seen by passersby. Finally, she added two words to the sign that hung in the window: Bristlemore Brooms and Bakery.

Bromley mumbled and grumbled, predicting further doom, as his wife buzzed around him, but Bea could not be dissuaded. She baked five loaves of bread and four dozen cookies for the first day of bakery business, all of which Bromley sold by noon. Cautiously optimistic, she doubled her efforts the following day.

The trend continued. Bromley’s deserted Broom shop bustled with activity once again. Occasionally a bakery customer even purchased a broom along with their bag of bagels. In fact, Bromley was so busy waiting on customers that his broom making efforts were all but abandoned.

Bea spent her nighttime hours baking. She whipped up rich red raspberry tarts, light-as-chiffon croissants, angel food cakes as tall as oatmeal boxes, and popovers oozing silky sweetness. Each morning she restocked the counter, and then spent the remaining part of the day sleeping.

News of the fabulous baked goods scattered like dust bunnies throughout the town. Bromley should have been pleased, but instead he despised his wife for her tireless determination, and even more so for her success.

“My compliments to the baker of these fine delicacies,” exclaimed the mayor one morning, swiping cinnamon from the corners of his mouth as he handed Bromley a dollar bill.

“Why, thank you.”

“You mean to say that you, the broom maker, are also the baker? I would have thought the baker might be your wife.”

“You obviously don’t know my wife, sir.” Sarcasm dripped unchecked from Bromley’s lips. “She’s as lazy as a cat in a castle, and just as fat, too. Why, she very nearly eats what I make in profits.”

“You don’t say! Then she must not be the one who stands behind you with that tray full of doughnuts.”

Bromley spun around just in time to glimpse eight dozen hot, sticky doughnuts raining down upon him. One very stunned Bea broke into sobs. Despite being caught in such an atrocity however, Bromley brushed off Bea’s sorrow and her offer of forgiveness as easily as he did the bits of doughnuts clinging to his beard.

Bea accepted the mayor’s offer of a newly remodeled store front for her bakery as part of a downtown improvement project. She hired assistants and moved into the apartment directly above her bakery. Her efforts were rewarded, and her cheerful disposition continues to win and charm customers to this day.

The sign in Bromley’s window now reads “Bristlemore Brooms” once more. The once-sparkling window has grown as clouded and dark as Bromley’s mood and demeanor. His stack of brooms, however, continues to mount even as his back and shoulders bow.

At six-thirty each evening, Bromley glumly wheels his broom cart along the sidewalk toward Bea’s Bakery. He stops at the door, turns the key in the lock, and sweeps up flour and pastry crumbs with the finest broom money can buy. Later he dines alone, munching on day-old bread spread thick with resentment –a table knife clutched in one hand; a grudge in the other.

Because of our innate selfishness, it is often difficult for us to view marriage as the one-flesh relationship God created it to be, but whenever we set out to defeat our spouse both individuals lose. Therefore, it is easy to "cut off my nose to spite my face" in marriage. Have you seen or experienced other situations in which this saying is true? Tell me about them!

Karlene is hosting Fiction Friday this week at Homespun Expressions. I hope you will take time to visit her blog and follow the links to more Friday fiction.

New "Wisdom" for a New Year

1-1-11 marks the second anniversary of my blog! Since Noah helped to name my blog two years ago (he was three at the time), I thought it fitting to let him help me write this blog post for the New Year. This worked out perfectly, as he and Claire spent the night and all day Thursday with Grandma and Papa. Claire and I dressed dollies and polished our nails while Noah played piano, then Noah and I read “SkippyJon Jones” books and worked on the blog post while Claire napped.

On last year’s anniversary, I wrote about my Grandma’s leftover soup. Grandma was better known for her little adages or bits of wisdom; if she were still alive today, she would be 108! I thought it would be fun to tell Noah some of Grandma’s sayings, but let him provide his own endings. It proved to be a lot of fun for both of us. Are you ready? Here they are:

Early to bed, early to rise, makes a man ………tired.

Haste makes ………you fall down.

If a thing is worth doing it’s ………making a funny face.









If you can’t stand the heat ……….get some new batteries.

Never underestimate the power of ......a car. (I hope he remembers that when he’s 16!)

You can lead a horse to water, but ......the horse can drink it. (Is that really fair?)

Laugh and the whole world laughs with you; cry, and ......your dad will make you laugh.

Don’t put all your eggs in ......your backpack.

A bird in the hand is ......light.

Better to be safe than ......slow.

A penny saved is ......one cent –that’s easy!

All work and no play makes ......no fun.

Don’t bite the hand that ......scratches you.

It’s always darkest before ......bedtime.

Two is company, three is ......better.

You can’t teach an old dog ......to dance.
(Papa thinks this excuses him from ballroom dance lessons this year!)

Every dog has its ......bone.

Wasn’t that fun? But we aren’t finished yet. Noah’s final saying is the one I want you to remember this year:

The best things in life are ......sharing and hugging.

What a great thing to remember, whether you’re 5 or 108! Both sharing and hugging are free, by the way. Neither of these can be accomplished alone, however, so spend every day sharing what you have with others, and don’t be stingy with your hugs. It will make 2011 much, much better –Noah and I promise! Happy New Year, my friends! May God, who shared his best gift with us, be your source of blessings and courage throughout all the days of the coming year.

As I wrote this poem I considered how remarkable it actually is that most of the world pauses to honor Christ one day each year. Granted, many wouldn't admit that this is what they are doing, but truly, in celebrating His birth, and keeping "the spirit of Christmas" alive, they are honoring, or at least acknowledging Jesus. It is still a far cry from what God expects of us, but it is a tiny, imperfect foretaste of the day when "...every knee shall bow ...and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord..." (Phil. 2:10-11)

Joy to the World, the Lord is come! Merry Christmas, my friends!

For Just One Day
By Sharlyn Guthrie

For just one day
we will not go
into the city
or the town.
I’m thinking, though,
we’ll light a fire
to sit around
with those we know
and love who will be home
…for just one day.

For just one day
we’ll tolerate
unbridled joy,
excessive noise,
squeals from children
gleefully
unwrapping toys
with laser sounds
and high pitched squawks
…for just one day.

For just one day
we’ll disregard
high calories
and extra fat,
plus sugared things
we ought to shun.
Tomorrow we’ll go back to that,
but we’ll have candy,
pie, and fudge
…for just one day

For just one day
we’ll set aside
our differences,
our selfish pride.
We’ll do our best
to keep the peace
and not take sides.
We know we must
because it’s right
…for just one day



For just one day
we’ll light the wicks
of candles we
have never lit;
use fine china,
crystal too;
in merriment
wipe dust from games
we rarely play
…for just one day.

For just one day
the world will slow—
perhaps not kneel,
but genuflect;
pay homage to
our God and King,
show some respect.
This side of Heaven
it’s what we get
…for just one day