A New Year a "good" Beginning... by Maribeth Jordan

January 1 a New Year? Why not May, October or December? Because that's just the way it is and has always been... I overheard this conversation between an adult and a child. Well I'm sure you can guess which one asked the question. A good question it was and a weak response at best. The child brings up a good point - why not any other time for a "New" year. New beginning's are everyday you open your eyes and take another breath. Your thoughts then actions determine your beginnings and ends. Every day your gifted is another chance to choose.

Instead of a wishing you a Happy New Year I thought I would share some wise direction from Proverbs...
There are six things which the Lord hates,
Yes, seven which are an abomination to Him:
Haughty eyes, a lying tongue,
And hands that shed innocent blood,
A heart that devises wicked plans,
Feet that run rapidly to evil,
A false witness who utters lies,
And one who spreads strife among brothers.

These words are said to be a guide for us. If we don't do any of these things how would our life be? GOOD! No good can come from bad behavior and no bad can come from good behavior. If you want something good in your life you have to be good in the first place.

So would it now be appropriate to wish you all a GOOD New Year instead of a Happy one? Yes I think so because with the good you will be happy.

Have a "good" New Year my friends...

Maribeth

The fire that burns... by Maribeth Jordan

It is a shame to see some people wrapped up in bitterness and resentment. You can typically see these emotions on ones face and if not, it will soon appear. These emotions are like acid... slowly eating away at your body, mind and soul. Many emotions and illnesses stem from bitterness and resentment. Depression, anxiety, anger/hostility, drug/alcohol addiction, etc... IBS, high blood pressure, migraine headaches, flare ups of many viruses and several cancers.

Why do people create this living hell for themselves? I believe it is an inability to let go and accept. I also believe it is a form of control (or lack of control in the mind). You cannot be bitter and grow spiritually, emotionally or mentally. If you are one suffering from these feelings I would ask you what exactly are you wanting? Can you change that? Many situations cannot be changed because either the offender has passed away or hurt another person so badly they suffer scars either physically or emotionally. If a situation cannot be changed you still can be cut free from these entangling feelings by accepting your situation.

If a person has passed that you are bitter with I recommend you visiting the grave site.... simply have your time to talk without interruption. If the person is alive and you simply cannot face that person then ask yourself if it is worth stewing over if he/she is not in your life... if they are a part of your life/family and he/she is unavoidable and you are the one who holds the bitterness and resentment then you my friend have to pick yourself up by your boot straps and face the giant... whether it's your fault or not. The only way to put a fire out is to address it or it will burn until it' finished and die out - a slow death.

To address a situation that you feel is not your fault is not weak as many may think - it is in fact the strong one who approaches. To be bitter and full of resentment is allowing another person and or a situation to control your mind... you are simply giving your power and strength away.

There is NO situation worth these emotions - NONE, whether it be murder, rape, divorce, etc... Yield to the attitudes we are commanded to have. Love, kindness, patience towards one another. We are to forgive 70x7 and that simply means there is no limit. Think of it this way, if someone has hurt you so badly how sad for that person that they had to be this way... you can NOT be a happy person and hurt another no matter what. To hurt another person is selfish and selfishness is simply fear. Remember hurt people hurt people... it is as simple as that. Stop hurting yourself and forgive that person who hurt you simply because we are commanded to do so and because we are forgiven of all of our sins - great and small. Letting go is not forgetting, it is freeing yourself to blossom into the beautiful flower.. and beautiful flowers bring joy to others!

Just when you think your problems are big.... by Maribeth Jordan

I had a customer come into my store last Sunday looking for a supplement to help his wife's hot flashes. As I walked him to the location of where they were he proceeded to tell me his wife has stage 4 breast cancer so he didn't want the supplement to aggravate that any further. I noticed he was very distraught (understandably so) and found him something that would work naturally for her without aggravating the estrogen levels and the cancer. He got a phone call while looking at the item so I left him alone and continued on with my work. After a few minutes past I heard his voice thanking me from down the aisle and heading towards the door. I asked him if the supplement I choose for him would work and he said his wife wanted to check with her doctor because she was afraid to take anything at this point. I asked how she was doing and my customer said "Vicki is not doing so well, after removing 18 lymph nodes and chemotherapy the cancer has come back and at this point there is nothing left anyone can do". He started to cry....

He then proceeded to tell me right before her diagnoses he lost his job and they did not have health insurance so this cancer has done more damage financially, emotionally and mentally then he could ever imagine.... the bank wants their house back. I asked for his name since he told me his wife's name... Robert, he said. Robert told me he has been married to Vicki for 30 years and that she was his best friend. He told me in 30 years he had never lied to her and when the sheriffs dept came to his house to serve him his eviction papers from the bank he didn't have the heart to tell her why. Vicki asked why the sheriffs dept was at their house and he told her it was for a neighborhood watch.... he told me that lie is eating him up inside and he just couldn't tell her they are losing their home while she is dying.

Robert said he could care less about the house, it was Vicki he was concerned with... he said, "I don't know what I'm going to do without her". As tears continued to fall from his eyes I felt his pain, fear, and isolation... he continues to tell me his mother died two months earlier and his father nine months earlier from that. This man has lost two parents and is in the process of losing his wife and home all in one year - ugghhhh.

After talking for a while longer I asked Robert to come back soon and let me know how things are. I told him I would (and am still doing) pray for both of them. After he left I was so overwhelmed with emotion I stepped off the floor to "breath".

I have heard all sorts of "problems" from my customers about this holiday season...I myself have complained about some things, but after listening to Robert it makes all of life's trivial matters worthless. There is always someone else with much worse circumstances. We must be thankful for what we have and give to those who don't have... that being time or resources. Let's face it, we will all cross the bridge of "circumstances". Many of us are on that bridge and many will never make it across. Start building a solid bridge now so that when your time comes the foundation on which you stand will be firm.

All the money in the world couldn't save Steve Jobs and it won't save Vicki... The trials we face may differ but because they are personal to each one of us they are painful and you cannot buy strength or peace... just remember they are a gift from the Lord - but only for those who know Him. The verse I gave Robert was Romans 8:28. You may think your strong now but just want until the storm hits - will you be ready?

Please pray for this couple - Robert and Vicki

Stone Soup

Many years ago three soldiers, hungry and weary of battle, came upon a small village. The villagers, suffering a meager harvest and the many years of war, quickly hid what little they had to eat and met the three at the village square, wringing their hands and bemoaning the lack of anything to eat.

The soldiers spoke quietly among themselves and the first soldier then turned to the village elders. "Your tired fields have left you nothing to share, so we will share what little we have: the secret of how to make soup from stones."

Naturally the villagers were intrigued and soon a fire was put to the town's greatest kettle as the soldiers dropped in three smooth stones. "Now this will be a fine soup", said the second soldier; "but a pinch of salt and some parsley would make it wonderful!" Up jumped a villager, crying "What luck! I've just remembered where some's been left!" And off she ran, returning with an apronful of parsley and a turnip. As the kettle boiled on, the memory of the village improved: soon barley, carrots, beef and cream had found their way into the great pot, and a cask of wine was rolled into the square as all sat down to feast.

They ate and danced and sang well into the night, refreshed by the feast and their new-found friends. In the morning the three soldiers awoke to find the entire village standing before them. At their feet lay a satchel of the village's best breads and cheese. "You have given us the greatest of gifts: the secret of how to make soup from stones", said an elder, "and we shall never forget." The third soldier turned to the crowd, and said: "There is no secret, but this is certain: it is only by sharing that we may make a feast". And off the soldiers wandered, down the road.

Memories Of The Mississippi by Deborah Rogers

After Mom died, Dad and I took a trip together every summer. Just the two of us, father and daughter. This was especially meaningful because Dad was aging and we lived two thousand miles apart - so a week with Dad, undistracted from other family members or from work was a treat.

Our first destination was a cruise up the Mississippi. We boarded the steamboat in St. Louis and noticed that we were some of the youngest people on the cruise! Even Dad, at 73 looked young! We sat in rocking chairs on the deck, the warm breeze blowing on our faces, admiring the lush green trees lining the mighty river. A jazz band played in the background.

On the deck we met John, who met the love of his life at a singles dance for senior citizens and asked her to marry him two weeks later. It’s John’s first marriage at sixty-five. Then there was Jane, a teacher from Little Rock, Arkansas who danced with Bill Clinton decades ago at a school fundraiser. Sometimes on the deck Dad and I sat quietly, reading.

At lunchtime we stood in line for the buffet. People asked if Dad was my brother! Amazing for our thirty-eight-year age difference! Dad filled his plate with bread, meats, and cheeses to make a sandwich. The most important ingredient to any sandwich was mayonnaise. Dad loved mayonnaise! Anything else between two pieces of bread was extra fillings.

After lunch we docked at Alton, Missouri. This small town was home to dozens and dozens of antique shops. Dad, with little interest in shopping or antiques (although he’s almost an antique himself) walked in and out of shop after shop. We walked up the hill, down the hill, and through the old town. We walked all day. It was the longest time I ever spent shopping with Dad. He was a good sport to come along, simply to spend time with me.

Each day blended together like the last, until seven days passed. On the seventh day we reached Minnesota, the top of the Mississippi, and my home, Minneapolis. Dad saw my house for the first time and met my two cats, Coconut and Coffee Bean. Coconut sat on his lap and purred. The two became quick friends.

This was the first of many trips we planned together, but unfortunately, it would be our last. Dad died a few months later from being hit by a drunk driver while crossing the street in his home town of Sacramento California. What made this trip special was our time together, the two of us. I had grown from the teenager embarrassed to be with Dad to the adult cherishing our time together. I'll always treasure these memories of my father, and be proud of who I have become.

The Pretty One by Roger Dean Kiser

It had been a very long night. Our black cocker spaniel 'Precious' was having a difficult delivery. I lay on the floor beside her large four-foot square cage, watching her every movement. Watching and waiting, just in case I had to rush her to the veterinarian.

After six hours the puppies started to appear. The first-born was black and white. The second and third puppies were tan and brown in color. The fourth and fifth were also spotted black and white. "One, two, three, four, five," I counted to myself as I walked down the hallway to wake my wife, Judy, and tell her that everything was fine.

As we walked back down the hallway and into the spare bedroom, I noticed a sixth puppy had been born and was now laying all by itself over to the side of the cage. I picked up the small puppy and laid it on top of the large pile of puppies, who were whining and trying to nurse on the mother. Precious immediately pushed the small puppy away from rest of the group. She refused to recognize it as a member of her family.

"Something's wrong," said Judy.

I reached over and picked up the puppy. My heart sank inside my chest when I saw the little puppy had a cleft lip and palate and could not close its little mouth. I decided right there and then that if there was any way to save this animal I was going to give it my best shot.

I took the puppy to the vet and was told nothing could be done unless we were willing to spend about a thousand dollars to try and correct the defect. He told us that the puppy would die mainly because it could not suckle. After returning home, Judy and I decided that we could not afford to spend that kind of money without getting some type of assurance from the vet that the puppy had a chance to live. However, that did not stop me from purchasing a syringe and feeding the puppy by hand. Which I did every day and night, every two hours, for more than ten days. The little puppy survived and learned to eat on his own as long as it was soft canned food.

The fifth week I placed an ad in the newspaper, and within a week we had people interested in all of the pups, except the one with the deformity. Late one afternoon I went to the store to pick up a few groceries. Upon returning I happened to see the old retired schoolteacher, who lived across the street from us, waving at me. She had read in the paper that we had puppies and was wondering if she might get one from us for her grandson and his family. I told her all the puppies had found homes, but I would keep my eyes open for anyone else who might have an available cocker spaniel. I also mentioned that if someone should change their mind, I would let her know. Within days, all but one of the puppies had been picked up by their new families. This left me with one brown and tan cocker as well as the smaller puppy with the cleft lip and palate.

Two days passed without me hearing anything from the gentleman who had been promised the tan and brown pup. I telephoned the schoolteacher and told her I had one puppy left and that she was welcome to come and look at it. She advised me that she was going to pick up her grandson and would come over at about eight o'clock that evening.

That night at around seven-thirty, Judy and I were eating supper when we heard a knock on the front door. When I opened the door, the man who had wanted the tan and brown pup was standing there. We walked inside, took care of the adoption details and I handed him the puppy. Judy and I did not know what we would do or say when the teacher showed up with her grandson. At exactly eight o'clock the doorbell rang. I opened the door, and there was the schoolteacher with her grandson standing behind her. I explained to her the man had come for the puppy after all, and there were no puppies left. "I'm sorry, Jeffery. They found homes for all the puppies," she told her grandson.

Just at that moment, the small puppy left in the bedroom began to yelp.

"My puppy! My puppy!" yelled the little boy as he ran out from behind his grandmother.

I just about fell over when I saw that the small child also had a cleft lip and palate. The boy ran past me as fast as he could, down the hallway to where the puppy was still yelping. When the three of us made it to the bedroom, the small boy was holding the puppy in his arms. He looked up at his grandmother and said, "Look, Grandma. They found homes for all the puppies except the pretty one, and he looks just like me.”

The schoolteacher turned to us, "Is this puppy available?"

“Yes,” I answered. “That puppy is available.”

The little boy, who was now hugging the puppy, chimed in, "My grandma told me these kind of puppies are real expensive and that I have to take real good care of it."

The lady opened her purse, but I reached over and pushed her hand back down into her purse so that she would not pull her wallet out. "How much do you think this puppy is worth?" I asked the boy. "About a dollar?" "No. This puppy is very, very expensive," he replied.

"More than a dollar?" I asked.

"I'm afraid so," said his grandmother.

The boy stood there pressing the small puppy against his cheek. "We could not possibly take less than two dollars for this puppy," Judy said, squeezing my hand. "Like you said, it's the pretty one."

The schoolteacher took out two dollars and handed it to the young boy.

"It's your dog now, Jeffery. You pay the man."

Still holding the puppy tightly, the boy proudly handed me the money. Any worries I’d had about the puppy’s future were gone.

The image of the little boy and his matching pup stays with me still. I think it must be a wonderful feeling for any young person to look at themselves in the mirror and see nothing, except "the pretty one."

Living With a Passive-Aggressive Man.... Dr. David B. Hawkins

The passive-aggressive man is a confusion creator, and if you remain “hooked,” you will spin around in that cycle of confusion as well. He remembers things different from you and if you try to get him to see “the truth,” you’ll be hooked in his world of confusion. He twists the facts, rewrites history to put a positive spin on his behavior. This, however, makes you feel crazy. So, how are you going to stay clear, calm and connected with a passive-aggressive man? It will not be easy, but it can be done. You must master a few strategies.

First, understand passive-aggression. You cannot remain clear and calm if you don’t understand what is happening. If you remain reactive, you’ll be dancing from one encounter to another. Notice what is happening. When and where do you get hooked? What does he say that provokes you into snapping back aggressively? Notice these patterns and determine to remain clear about what is happening.
Second, determine to be active, not reactive. Choose how you will respond to him. In the face of his passive-aggressive actions, choose to be clear with him. Let him know how you see things. Refuse to get into a power struggle with him. Don’t try to change his mind or make him see things the way you see them. Be in charge of yourself, knowing what is true for you.
Third, keep agreements simple and doable. Create agreements that are likely to be kept by him. Choose your battles carefully. It is far better to have a simple life, with simple agreements, than try to enforce complex agreements that he will sabotage.
Fourth, maintain clear and firm boundaries. Don’t allow him to manipulate your point of view. Seek specific agreements, even writing them down for clarity. Reiterate those agreements with him to ensure clarity. When he violates boundaries, which he will do, state your feelings clearly and consistently.
Finally, celebrate modest victories. Understand you cannot make him do anything. However, you can introduce accountability into the relationship. Clarify how his behavior impacts you, asking for exactly what you need. Notice how even small victories create a positive connection with him.