That Man! And His Incredible Gift!

I’ve written about this table before, twice. Here. And here. You just about need to read these, to prime the pump, so the rest will make tons more sense to you.

Otherwise, you’ll think I’m some kind of doddering old nut.

So, go ahead and read. This’ll still all be here when you get back. And I’ve arranged the links to open in new windows, so you won’t lose this page. You’re welcome.

Now, if you’ve read, or if you remember the story,

Let me tell you Chapter Three

Those of you who have hung with me for years may think you are tired of hearing about “the table”, but the story simply has gotten WAY better.

Basically, there is a table in my life that has not much monetary value, but lotsa nostalgia going for it. I’m not immune to nostalgia at all, but this thing rang all my bells and has humbled me to no end.

If it is possible to be in love with a table, then I was.

First, it is important to realize when I thought the table was destroyed, it was because it was old and I could not remember having it for years and years. Then, one day I wrote about it and later I discovered my son had it at his house. Wow. You cannot imagine my happiness.

When we were helping them move, it was so close to totally rotten we debated photographing it and giving it a funeral.

I voted a big “NO” and I won. Eventually the table came back to be mine, but finally in pieces. It lived, along with all its pieces, in our shop, for several years.

Well the other day, my newly-retired husband asked me if I wanted to see what he’d been doing all day, and you guessed it:

The table has been resurrected:

Sweet new old table

You can imagine my pleasure (but only if you’ve read the previous stories!) and the poor, simple table has brought tears to my eyes, one more time, and here it is, the way I saw it when I first learned it had survived surgery.

I know it doesn’t look like much, but it was a sight to behold, for me.

Old table made newNow, here it is, newly repainted and pressed into service, again, making everything around it look in need of a Spring spruce-up.

Isn’t it like that with us? Our Father created us, and loves when our parents dedicate us to Him, and when we love him back and serve Him. But sometimes we get worn out, or worse yet, we get away from Him. Then He finds us and fixes us.

So this love gift has been given to me thrice. What a thing to make such a deal about, but really, it’s the love that has overwhelmed me.

Some days the blessings just come. Ever had a day like that?

When Enough Is Enough

Second and Third bouquets of the year

Hellebores and Daffodils

I do not normally ever think there are enough daffodils in my house. Ever.

However, when I think of all the daffodils my beloved has brought me over the years, I get a soft, satisfied feeling I cannot explain.

Fulfilled? Maybe. Or maybe just content?

Anyway, I promised to show you the very first bouquet from this year on the 21st, but I guessed wrong at the date and today is the day!

So, go here, where I am guest posting for a friend,  and see the lovely and very first bouquet of daffs from my beloved, and one of my off-the-cuff stories to go with it. Enjoy!

In Honor of the Peanut Butter Thing…

Today is National Peanut Butter Day?

So they say.

Well I decided to share with you my connection to the lowly peanut, and the butter we make from it.

Forty-five years ago (tomorrow!) I acquired a wonderful, brand new husband. Never looked back. However, it wasn’t long before we were sharing a tad of morning sickness and he had the cure!

It was not something I would have chosen to swallow that morning, not at all. It sounded gross.

But his enthusiasm (plus the fact that he could stand up without fainting and I could not) won the day.

I found myself eyeball to eyeball with a bowl of canned chicken noodle soup and the most amazing combination of foods I could ever imagine in a sandwich.

It was not even a good color combination, and the aromas from it were less than what a newly prego lady would want.

However, it all was served to me while I was still in bed, and with such youthful exuberance, I had to smile to myself at the awesome idea of this young man serving me, his young bride, breakfast in bed with such a hopeful expression, no matter WHAT the menu.

So I sipped on the soup, for starters. (Soup is supposed to be the first course, anyway, I remembered from home ec class.) The soup was fine. He actually knew how to open a can of soup, dilute it properly, and warm it without boiling it over; a factoid worth mental note, indeed.

And he was truly caring and attentive, I also noted, with pleasure.

But the sandwich!

It was time. I had to take at least one bite. How on earth could anyone be so callous as to ignore any part of this loving offering, right?

So I took a bite. I chewed.

The unbelievable flavor combination of white bread, peanut butter, and dill pickle awakened my taste buds to a new world.

And I’ve never looked back

Happy 45th, a day early, Sweetheart! ❤

Peanut Butter and Dill Pickle Sandwich

Counter-top breakfasting at its best!

Update

A bold and brave testimony from one of the Tittle daughters. May we all raise children like her:

A day of extreme emotions here at FamilyLife. April 28, 2014

He died as he lived … protecting his family.

Rob Tittle, a FamilyLife staff member and kindred spirit warrior for the family, died last night in the tornado that crushed parts of central Arkansas. Two of his daughters—Tori, age 20, and Rebekah, 14—were among the 14 killed in the storm.

Rob, 48, and his wife Kerry, had heard the tornado warnings and were shepherding their nine children under a stairwell when the tornado disintegrated their home. Rob was doing what a man does—putting his family first—when the twister hit. All that is left is a grim grey slab of concrete.

Their 19 year old daughter posted this on Facebook: “This is… from a friend’s house, my mom, and my six brothers/sisters are alright. We have lost three of our family …

Please continue reading this lovely young woman’s testimony, and the rest of this tender report, here.

The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away: Blessed be the name of the Lord.

Behold, now is the day of salvation.

Overheard – Kids!

Dad and son

Dad and son (Photo credit: narice28)

 

 

Having children does not make a rich man poor! Having children makes a poor man rich!

You cannot take your riches to Heaven with you after you die, no matter how much you may try. But if you try hard you may accomplish one day having your children with you in Heaven after you die.

 

Weekly Photo Challenge – Hands

About a month ago, someone plowed our garden spot. Then he tilled it. Then he harrowed it. Then he marked it into rows. Then he planted and planted and planted. Onions, cabbages, corn, tomatoes, all are out there. Everything is growing. The corn is two inches tall. Last night, I got this gorgeous posy:

radish bouquet

It is more than just a clump of radishes.

  1. It is saving and scrimping to buy land.
  2. It is buying and maintaining a tractor.
  3. It is watching weather and planning ahead for planting.
  4. It is keeping a vegetable inventory, to know how much to plant each year.
  5. It is changing diet to fit what grows in our area.
  6. It is walking out to the garden every day to be sure things are okay.
  7. It is stringing irrigation hoses out there and paying for water when the rain refuses to fall.
  8. It is seeding it over in autumn with crimson clover so we either get a cover crop or else some venison.
  9. It is buying and maintaining a small tiller for between rows, later.
  10. It is researching through gardening books for help with pests and diseases.
  11. It is sharpening and oiling the hoe, shovel, and rake.
  12. It is pulling rocks out and chunking them into the ditch.
  13. It is winding twine round and round and round stakes to support plants.
  14. It is shredding piles and piles of newspapers for mulch.
  15. It is staying up late and going out with a dorky “headlight cap” on and covering tender plants before a surprise frost comes.

All of the above, and more, go into the first bouquet of the vegetable gardening season. And here you see it, held in the hand that provided it, the hand of someone who, though he doesn’t eat many radishes, knows who does.