Author: debrabee

As time passes we all notice the truth in changing seasons. Part of those changes relate to people who come in and out of our lives. Several years ago I was quite close to a friend who impressed upon me questions and hope simply by telling me about a life changing event he’d had.

When I met him he didn’t practice a faith outwardly of any kind other than to absolutely know there was life after death. He was so sure of it, he had a cavalier attitude towards life, but not in a reckless regard. I had to ask him why he believed there was more than just dying. What he told me would never leave my memory. My retelling is vague on details but then it didn’t happen to me. This is merely as I remember our conversations. I apologize to my friend if I butchered his tale.

He had been an altar boy (mind you I had no idea what that meant) and around the age of six, while riding his bike one day he was hit by a car. He died there but didn’t realize it until afterwards. His memory was of himself being able to look down over the scene with people gathered about his body and he could remember his mother crying. He couldn’t understand why his mother was so sad.

His next memory was walking with a grandfather he hadn’t met before, but he simply knew who he was. As they walked and talked this grandfather figure asked him if he could see anything he wanted what would it be? The boy answered, “blue roses” and his request was answered. He marveled at being able to see “blue roses”. His grandfather told him he had to go back and my friend was returned to his body.

I share his conversation not to hype the “life after death” story since all who have real faith understand this to be fact. Why I share it is because of the many questions it brought into my life very young when I was merely partying and thinking there was no God and no purpose. The simple telling of one’s “life experience” was one of the strongest witnesses I had ever encountered. This man never tried to get me to go to church or believe in Jesus, he simply shared his story and refused to budge from the fact “there is life after death” and thus he had nothing to fear in death.

His story changed my outlook. It made me ask questions and it gave me hope! I suddenly saw there might be more to this life than what I had been living. His story helped me pick up my bible years later to find out why he believed he saw “blue roses”.

One of my favorite things to do is hang out with my best friend. That would be my husband. He is such a calming spirit to me and I can relax in his presence. Not a high maintenance kind of personality. Our lives have the usual pace to them most are familiar with; lot’s of work interspersed with personal commitments. Occasionally we can only see each other for a couple hours a day before it’s off to bed to start again.

I think our heavenly Father was really on to something wonderful when He set aside that “day of rest”. Now all I have to do is remember what it was for and not try to fill it up with chores to prepare for the next week.

Family members are an odd assortment aren’t they? I sometimes think family are like an old crayon box; you get a variety of colorful characters. Some are solid, some are broken, some are mere stumps of what they used to be and others are still pristine. No matter their condition you still hang onto them for the mere possibility of needing that color in the future.

Just for giggles I googled sites that found ways to reuse these old crayons. I was humored by the many sites dedicated to this endeavor. Most of them were adamant not to throw away the “old crayon” because it could be melted down and made into something new.

Now if that isn’t a statement for our lives then I don’t know what is. My own family is certainly unique and as I write this morning I can’t help but feel wonder at how my box of “crayons” is changing. Just like a crayon can be melted down and reformed I am seeing new lives being made from the old ones.

I am glad I held onto my “crayons”.

Before us are many people who lack things in their lives and I was reminded yesterday of how desperate some of these needs can be. I got to hear how a woman who had no real money to give from her own budget would offer her grocery money to another who had children to feed.

If I have to live in a fallen world, let me be surrounded not by those who are rich in money but those who are rich in generosity. How many of us will offer the olive branch of hope to another even when it hurts our own comfort level?

Pr 11:25

A generous man will prosper; he who refreshes others will himself be refreshed.

Ever hear about busy bodies? I do often, but not quite in the sense they are busy doing anything other than being in other people’s business. I am not fond of this personality type. Something inside me just wants to always walk away and find a “good book” to read instead.

I had something happen though and it made me realize how “imperfect” I was. Shocking really!!! The busy speak began to take on new life in which I was one of the topics. Suddenly I could feel my ears tingle and I found myself straining to hear conversations that were being whispered.

Isn’t it funny how easy it is to ignore “busy body” speak until it starts to be about you? I put my “good book” in my backpack this morning and I also grabbed some uplifting music for my player which turns up pretty loud in volume. I will once more become oblivious about being in someone’s conversation and instead turn my thoughts upward.

I find myself humming a lot lately without realizing what I am doing. Being a thinker I often analyze my responses to situations and I came to conclude this humming is for self-preservation. I have been facing a great deal of stress lately but instead of opening my mouth to say something negative I have been humming an uplifting melody to quiet my soul.

Eph 5:19

Speak to one another with psalms, hymns and spiritual songs. Sing and make music in your heart to the Lord