12/16/17. Our Father, though cheered by the news of the day, keep us humble and responsible. Remind us that our pursuit of world peace involves others, that boasting and conceit accomplish little – that we alone are not sufficient- that your Grace is needed and welcomed. Amen
I am reminded, once more, there is nothing new under the sun. Mankind has been living in a state where we must pursue peace for a long time.
Man has always boasted and been conceited for individual accomplishments.
Did this get written yesterday? No year is given, but it sounds familiar.
On our own we can accomplish nothing, or, we fail to accomplish, or simply, we fail.
A hard pill to swallow, but easily remedied when we put others first and rely on your Grace to guide and accompany us on this earthly walk to accomplish Your will, not mine.
12/14/04 Our heavenly Father, we thank you again for the opportunity and happenings of life – for second chances – for prayers answered. Help us with our impatience – our busyness with trivia and our reluctance to reach out to others. Amen
This Exchange Club prayer was several years before Mom died. Yet, it sounds so much like my Dad after she was gone.
I wonder if his buddies at lunch that day knew this.
My prop today is a photo layering of two photos. Just thinking how long this used to take to accomplish is enough to derail my day.
Instead, picture a Christmas tree reflected in a picture window as one gazes out at fresh fallen snow. Picture also a sleepy photographer with less than 1 full cup of coffee under her pink fuzzy bathrobe belt.
Picture all this, if you dare, while her neighbor, drives up the drive across the street. At that moment the flash goes off (to capture the prayer on card).
Neighbor turns off lights in car and stays inside to avoid attracting further attention from crazy neighbor.
Christmas tree reflection is obliterated in flash. Move on to another, more controlled and manageable design concept.
Perhaps, the bigger task, will be to get over my reluctance and reach out to my neighbor to explain my trivial photo attempt was not to be the “Mrs Kravitz” of the neighborhood.
12/13/05 Our Heavenly Father – We thank you for this day and for your blessing on our gathering here this hour. Remind us of tasks to be accomplished – of friends to remember – of opportunities for sharing and of our individual and collective gifts for serving. Amen
Today’s prop is a pack of paper Dad would have written a Christmas letter on to tuck into his cards. After Mom died, he chose that route to bring distant friends news. Both my parents had a deep network of friends from every job and neighborhood they ever lived in. I know, I wrote to them all after Dad died. I was blessed beyond belief in their return notes.
The other thing that jumps out at me today, is Dad’s cognizance of our collective gifts. Every family has their own. Every job, even department has their own. Perhaps we can share those instead of buying “things.”
12/12/06 Our Father, hear again our thanks for the opportunity of this gathering – for the break in the routine of our day – for stories and laughter shared. Remind us of who we are and where we should be headed. Amen
Dad’s Exchange Club day lunch was an appointment he looked forward to. Cognizant of this, I would schedule our arrival on our trips home so he could enjoy his lunch. I love now still, thinking of him laughing with friends.
My laughing zone is centered on a small Christmas tree. Only 2 strings of lights comprised my decorations to start with. But of course I forgot the Cardinal rule: check the lights before you string them on the tree.
Ooops. Yeah well, that didn’t happen, until I had the first string half wound around the tree top. We plugged it in and it was fine. I continued the second string.
All done, plugged it in and…half lit. Although the two strings are connected, only one string is lit. The other string has a loose light here or there. Each one has to be adjusted.
Somehow, no matter how high tech Christmas decorations get, this issue has not been resolved.
To me, it is a source of laughter, at first. It looks funny.
But it is a spiritual truth. We may be plugged in; at church, at home, in our neighborhood. We may be able to transmit the truth, but we have no light.
12/5/06 Our Father, as we stand and bow our heads in prayer, hear again our thanks for this day and our fellowship here this hour. And as we anticipate the joy of Christmas help us with our busyness – remind us to pause and savor what we celebrate. Amen
Savor, to taste. A savory flavor is unique and memorable. It stands out.
The smell and tastes of the season are not easily replicated. You have to go to the source.
May we truly savor the joy of God’s intervention on earth, in an unlikely place, in an unlikely form.
Had the hardest time with this entry. Did the draft and then poof, it was gone only to show up a day later. My drafts used to show up on my Android, now they take awhile. Any tips out there? It is very frustrating. I take the picture, type the prayer, think of link, look for link and lose the entry…for a day. Huh?!
12/7/04 Our Father, we are mindful of this day in our nations’ history and offer our prayers of thanks to all who served on our behalf. We pray too for our troubled world and those who continue to pursue Peace. Remind us that peace is not possible without each of us being willing to forgive and live with one another. Amen
Today’s prop is Dad’s 1944 Senior Book, from Norwood High School. He is the one peeping over the middle of the card, with a cryptic “Where you going boy?” written across the top margins. Others just signed their names. Is this Dad’s handwriting? I don’t know. I know he was anxious to serve. So much so that he signed up against his parents wishes.
How many of these faces perished in WWII? Again, I have no clue. But my father probably knew.
He went on one of the last Honor Flights for WWII veterans. When I find the photos, I will share. He literally beams.
Having the hospice team bring in their veterans service to his bedside was a day I will cherish.
Days of infamy, days of joy…who knew that the original text was something far less pointed and far more trite.