remembering

This weekend was the 10th anniversary of the 9/11 terrorist attacks on the NYC World Trade Center towers. I remember that morning. I had gone to work at CIAS early that morning; I can't quite remember why now. But around ten minutes after the first tower was struck, Grace Dove called and told us to tune in. By a fluke, our unit at that time was wired for Cable, so we hooked up one of our little tv's and turned on the coverage, minutes before the second plane hit the South Tower. I remember watching the attack unfold in disbelief, along with my students and Tricia. And then the North Tower fell. Oh, my. I recollect the horror that filled me. The disbelief.

I was thinking about all the people being plunged into eternity. God rest their souls and bless the rescue workers that perished and will still continue to die from the ill effects of their efforts. This day changed the course of American history. I hope that all my students, at the time, will not forget that day. I felt privileged to have been able to witness it WHILE it happened. It is burned into my mind and heart and memory forever!

We will never forget 9/11!

togetherness

I am moved recently to think about family. My family in particular. People who have been taken away from it. People added to it. I have often thought of my parents, both only children, bringing up the five of us in a world that was largely unfriendly towards us in general. A few people touched our lives indelibly. Those few are precious to us still. And the old-fashioned, old-world togetherness that we have fiercely protected and promised one another never to break.

Back when I was studying sociology in college, I came across information on predominantly Oriental  communal cultures that are interdependent and inter-related in such a way that almost seems like threads in woven tapestry, together strong and beautiful. And then the typical American culture that breeds on individualism and independence, seeking fulfillment without regards to family ties. As we three younger girls work hard to support our mom in her waning years, keeping the "home fire burning," so to speak, I am reminded of so many verses in regards to Mom...Exodus 20:12, "Honor your father and your mother, that your days may be prolonged in the land which the LORD your God gives you." Heb 12:12 "Strengthen the hands that are weak and the knees that are feeble" Prov. 16:31. "A gray head is a crown of glory; It is found in the way of righteousness," Lev. 19:32, "'You shall rise up before the grayheaded and honor the aged, and you shall revere your God; I am the LORD."And Jesus' stern warning in Mark 7, "For Moses said, 'HONOR YOUR FATHER AND YOUR MOTHER'; and, 'HE WHO SPEAKS EVIL OF FATHER OR MOTHER, IS TO BE PUT TO DEATH';   but you say, 'If a man says to his/her father or his/her mother, whatever I have that would help you is Corban (that is to say, given to God)' you  no longer permit him to do anything for his/her father or his/her mother;  thus  invalidating the word of God by your tradition  which you have handed down; and you do many things such as that."

I should write a book one day, entitled Memoir of a Dutiful Daughter. :-) But then again, being an earthly daughter does not define me...being a child of God does! And I need to be here for my sisters and brother, whether in prayer or financial help or emotional support. And for my nieces, those precious beings that will carry the spiritual torch.

I look at our precious nieces, and think, "They are the future of this family, the future Jones girls, future missionaries and teachers and preachers." I pray that they would come to know Jesus early in life. And be filled with the Holy Spirit to be powerful women of God, equipped for their Master's use. To be able to overcome life's hurts and wounds with grace. And always stay sweet and gentle. That their temperaments would be soft-hearted and kind. And that they would not be as lonely as we were.

Our family has always been "a city set on a hill that cannot be hid." Whether we liked it or not. There was not anywhere we could go, or anything we could do that did not get scrutinized by outsiders as we were growing up. We looked different, acted different, talked different, and were different. Even down to the jobs that we have, or that God has given to and anointed us for. And still yet, we continue on as different as ever.

Mom's Aunt Rene hosted us as little children, as we trekked up Signal Mountain every Sunday to visit her. Cinnamon Trident gum sticks, peach turnovers, and Nickelodeon are some of the memory relics from those days. She was saved late in life, so I don't remember her as a Christian as much as she was a benevolent old lady. Then came the day that Dad's company went under, and our house sold. Life was changing rapidly for our family nuclei.  Dad's Mom asked us to move to Pensacola and offered to let us live with her until we got on our feet. That would facilitate our permanent move to Florida. Aunt Rene did not understand; with her brother pushing her over the edge of snipping family ties, angry and confused. And for several years, we had no contact with her at all.

We lived with Grandma for nine months. It was not an easy time. Mamar was used to living on her own for many years as a "Merry Widow." Dad tried and tried and tried to find a job, but nothing opened for him. So some local Bible college student  jack-leg carpenters invited him to join them in trying to make a living for their families. We were living on between $15-17 thousand a year. When I think of that amount today, I laugh inside my head. What seven-member family can live on a little over $15 G's a year?!? But Mom and Dad made it work. We were poor, so very poor. Fifty dollar bills, pressed into my Dad's hand on a random Sunday morning helped to build our faith. Our land lady's boys leaving sacks of much-needed groceries on our porch. I remember being ten years old, spending my Saturdays with Dad and my sisters, mowing lawns off of Lillian Hwy. and Hwy 98 for $5 a week, which we saved fastidiously to pay for sturdy shoes or spend on stickers and pencils and wall posters from local bookstores. Recently, I was cleaning out a cabinet in my bathroom, and found an little old ceramic bear and basket full of plastic flowers, I think given to Tricia or me by our brother. And a mug from another sister. Cute reminders of those meager days.

We found an oasis in the Lillian homegroup, hosted in Richard and Nita Parker's house. It was a croup of senior citizens that made us feel at home. There was one other family with a girl our age that we got to know,  and several teen boys that we really didn't get to know too much. Again, we were growing up in a sea of people different from us.

And days became better. We were able, after two long years, to move from Lillian, Alabama, back over the bridge to Pensacola. Aunt Rene's brother had died, managing to steal and pilfer and cheat her out of some of her life savings. But she needed someone to take care of her. And he anger had passed, and she wanted us again. So Mom found the biggest house that she could find for us, to prevent Aunt Rene from being bothered by us kids, and to let us have our own space. How we loved that house on Man O' War Circle. We younger kids healed from a lot there. And experienced a lot there. I turned 13 in that house, with the best birthday party a girl could ask for.

This is just the beginning...

missionary tribute: Bob Bishop

Bob Bishop passed into eternity on Saturday. He was 74 years old, and had recently had health issues including Parkinson's. Bro. Bob was the president of Globe Missionary Evangelism, later renamed Globe International, a missions board that has sent out hundreds of missionaries into foreign fields. I was only 9 years old when I met Bro. Bob.

When we moved to Pensacola in 1985, our large family was welcomed into the Lillian, AL homegroup, comprised of senior citizens, living out their retirement dreams in Spanish Cove "over the bridge." They all sat together, right in front of the balcony edge, left side. So for several years we sat there too. And so did Bob and Beth Bishop.

Missions conferences would roll around each year in April. Former Liberty Bible College graduates, laboring on foreign fields all over the world, would come in to raise support and spread the vision for their ministries. I remember sitting through hours upon hours of morning and evening conference sessions, enthralled with the stories and pictures. Bro. Bob was always involved in the missions conferences somehow. I know that Globe Missionary Evangelism was not formed until some time later, but he always had his hand in the missions pot at Liberty, so to speak. Bro. Bob was a steady man, a faithful man. A man who loved God and wanted to see the world evangelized with the Gospel of Jesus Christ.

One year I well remember an certain incident involving Bro. Bob. Dirk Wood had been on the field a year or two at that point, and he was crazy for God and as spicy a personality as anyone I remember from my childhood. Towards one of the last fund-raising sessions, he called Bro. Bob up to the stage and had him take his shoes and socks off, amid much laughter and cheering. Then he had him climb onto one of those old rust-colored upholstered chairs that always sat up front, and he shouted out, "LOOK AT THOSE BEAUTIFUL FEET, YA'LL!"

Of course, this is a reference to Isaiah 52:7 and  Romans 10:15, which both basically say, "How beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of him who brings good news, Who proclaims peace, Who brings glad tidings of good things, Who proclaims salvation, Who says to Zion, "Your God reigns!"

We cannot imagine all the people that will be in heaven one day because of the fulfillment of God's destiny and will for this man and his family's life work. Bro. Bob's memory will be blessed (Prov. 10:7).  We were made for eternity!

good eats

So, I was feeling rather homemaker-ish today and came home after work and cooked!
Chicken pot pie & a fresh blueberry lemon layered bar, both turned out so delicious that my proverbial buttons were popping from joy. :-D The last pot pie that I attempted was such a failure, that I hardly wanted to eat it after it was done. And this one was so different, that I think it shocked me!

Anyway, I had prepped and done my grocery shopping on Saturday:
2 pie crusts
white meat chicken, boiled/keep broth ( I used a sm pkg of tenders)
frozen mixed veggies, cooked for 10 minutes or so
1 can cream of chicken
salt, pepper, garlic salt, Nature's Seasoning, poultry seasoning to taste
1/2 stick of butter
After I assembled everything and crimped/poked the top crust, I baked it on 400 for 30 minutes until it was bubbly and little messy around the edges.

YUMMY!
And the blueberry lemon bar was a recipe that I had gotten from Marisa from the last game night that they hosted. It turned out well too. And the best part...there are leftover for tomorrow's lunch!!!

Thank the Lord for small favors, and delicious culinary results!

violence

No, this is not a rant against television violence, even though that does have a time and place of its own. :-)

This is about the call of God to His people, to just a few of His people, to be violent in seizing His kingdom. Matthew 11:12 says, "From the days of John the Baptist until now the kingdom of heaven suffers violence, and violent men take it by force."  Here Jesus is talking to his disciples, the twelve that are nearest to Him. Right in the middle of a tribute to John the Baptist, his cousin and forerunner, He makes this comment and then ends it with "He who has ears, let him hear." Then he goes into a critique of "this generation," one which mirrors this current generation well.

But what does this "violence" entail? A desperate, zealous setting one's self apart for the work of the Lord. A voracious drive and determination to become more like the Savior. A desire to draw nearer to the God who so loved us all that He sent His Son to shed His blood to save us from the clutches of hell.

I have had a sense of spiritual change coming in my life for about a month now. I always get these "premonitions," if you will, that God is going to mix things up in my life, or ask me to do something that I would rather, in my own flesh, not do. I was listening to Banning Liebscher preach last week at BBF via livefeed, and he made an offhand comment that God may ask from you what He may never ask from your friends. I have often thought that about my family. Some of the things that He asked us to do that made absolutely NO sense from a human perspective. And when He asked it, He never clarified or told us why or how to explain our lifestyle or beliefs. He just said to obey Him.

And so, I feel strongly that He asked me to give up most of my leisure television time, shows that I have loved and watched for years, and to tighten the spiritual  belt of the movies that I watch. So I  am going to endeavor to spent this extra time (even though it was mostly late-evening and weekend time) cooking for the love of it, reading books that will help me counsel and teacher my kids better, re-learning the tricks of gardening, and exercising to get in better health. I ask the Lord to give my kids, in exchange, more victory over sin, more healing to their souls, and for myself, a closer and more Spirit-filled life that pleases Him!

inspired

Uncle Greg was in the hospital last week with a heart attack. We packed into Cori's car and visited with him and Aunt Rosie during the late afternoon. It was good to spend time with them, and we got to see Annie & her Baylen for a quick hi. Greg did not look good, and he slept most of the time we were there. Rose bounced Juliana on her leg as Corrie Lynn hopped in circles around the floor rug. Such delightful and sweet babies! As Mom and Aunt Rosie's white heads were bent over cups of hot tea while they sat indulging in "old lady talk," I was reminded that they are both getting old and felt a strange uncanny urgency. We must treasure the fleeting time that we have left with them! And I am so thankful for the "goodly heritage" that they have left for us younger torch-bearers.

Aunt Rosie is such an inspiration. Mom said, after we got home, that she has always been inspirational even to her, her best friend. Rose is such a classy lady, a true southern hostess, homemaker, and cook-on-the-fly. And her patio garden! I was soothing Juliana into a nap on their patio/veranda close to the evening. The cool breezes were blowing from the north end of the county, and it was so refreshing! She slept on my lap for almost an hour, and I got to just sit on the swing and think. And Tricia and I went right home and bought ourselves some pots, Miracle Grow potting soil, and a small collection of herbs, flowers, and bell pepper and tomato plants! It was actually a lot of work, but FUN hard work. :-)

So I came away inspired in several areas of life. I don't experience these moments too often, so I'll ponder this one for awhile yet.

Aunt Rosie & Cori (her god-daughter) on Christmas Eve 2010

Breakfast Casserole

Here is the recipe for the Breakfast Casserole that I brought to Dustin & Marisa's Game Night. It is easy to make (and not too demanding on the food budget)! :-D

Breakfast Casserole
1 8 oz can refrigerated crescent rolls (I use Pillsbury)
1 lb. bulk sausage (Jimmy Dean's mild)
4 eggs, beaten
8 oz. cheese, shredded (1/2 mozzarella & 1/2 monterey jack/colby cheese mix)
3/4 c. 2% milk
salt & pepper to taste

Preheat oven to 425 degrees F (400 degrees for a convection oven).
Cook the sausage in a skillet on medium heat until it is browned. Drain well.
Line the bottom of a 9x13 baking pan (I use glass Pyrex) with the crescent roll dough.
Press to seal the rolls together so that the bottom is completely covered.
Sprinkle the dough with sausage and cheese.
Combine beaten eggs, milk, salt and pepper and pour over the sausage/cheese layer.
Grind a small amount of fresh pepper over the top of the casserole.
Bake in oven for 15-20 minutes until top is golden brown with browned spots.
Cut into squares and serve while hot/warm.
Enjoy the deliciousness!

I LOVE to pass along recipes given to us by inspirational homemakers! Pat McIntyre was a wonderful, godly lady, dedicated to being a housewife, gardener, and cook. When I was a young girl, we used to drive our VW bus down from Chattanooga to Dalton, GA to fellowship with her family and several others. Great memories!