While one may consider it failure, God calls it an opportunity! Our failures are His perfect moments of teaching, bringing good for His purposes. God does that with all of our choices, you know… the good and the bad.
God sent his only son to earth for us, where we promptly crucified him, so one might assume that this was a big epic failure!
What did God do?
He resurrected Jesus and rolled that stone away, leaving an empty tomb behind!
God has been righting our wrongs, healing our wounds and miraculously turning our failures into successes from the beginning of time! The Bible says that God is faithful, so logic dictates that only success will follow, from both our triumphs and mistakes.
I am a work in progress, and as God is not done with me yet, failure is just a means for Him to continually show me how He can do anything… the sky’s the limit, as they say.
My future is very bright, as the bible confirms…
“For I know the plans I have for you”, declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future”. Jeremiah 29:11
I remember the days before technology allowed kids to spend 6 hours straight in an automobile Movie Theatre, laps filled with juice boxes and snack bags. Nope! I don’t even think I ever saw the inside of a car seat! Just our old station wagon, with parents in the front comfortably seated, while we all were stuffed into the back rows.
The only theatre entertainment we saw, was the live action movie of one of the two grown ups in the front, trying rather unsuccessfully to smack us for one reason or another! Our little ears were unceremoniously greeted with the musical threats of the time… some of the greatest hits to listen to were, If I Have To Come Back There, sung by the driver, or Just You Wait Til We Get Home, played by the assistant driver.
What were we to do for entertainment, as well as for our survival? After we tired of picking on each other, as no parent ever stopped the car for the child who cried, Mom, he won’t stop poking me… we looked for games that kept our attentions. We couldn’t play the “That’s who you’re gonna marry”, as we were not stuck in the parking lot of a grocery store, while our parents sought peaceful shelter within the local food mart! When the car is careening down the highway, kids had to get creative!
There were three games we could play for some much needed automobile on-board entertainment…
I’m Going on a Picnic! In this game, since we didn’t have those snacks and drinks, one would call out an item they would take to eat if they could. There was a catch, however, as the next kid had to figure out why that item was chosen, and add an item that matched. It might be the color of the food, or perhaps its shape, flavor or the way it was prepared and packaged. The goal was to figure out the common denominator and add to the picnic.
I Spy With My Little Eye! One child would select something within sight of the car, and then give clues to the others, as to what they were looking at. One could ask about size, color, shape or use… things like that, until someone figured it out.
Punch Bug! This game was usually toward the end of the car ride, as by now we really didn’t like each other very much, there was nothing else to do, and it was a free chance to hit each other. This was a savored game and we saved up all our personal traveling grievances for the opportune DOUBLE PUNCH BUG attack!
So, here ya have it folks… If I were riding in an automobile, my opening sentence would most likely be “Yellow Cloth Top PUNCH BUG!” I’m very talented in using my middle knuckle when I tag your thigh, as it leaves the perfect little round bruise for later.
Yes, I am aware of what the prompt asked us today, but as this is the second attempt at sticking their nose into my business, I chose to write my response the way I wished. If they are so interested in my Autobiography, they can buy the book when it’s released and read the answer there… just sayin.
There’s nothing more jarring and/or disconcerting than when your car tire hits a pothole, when you’re driving down the road at full speed!
You’re lucky to keep the car on the road, not to mention, trying to hold onto your coffee without wearing it… am I right?!
I suppose it’s nearly as jarring to hit a speed bump, but at least you get vaulted into the air, so you can keep going. Not a pothole, no no! Those will either stop you in your tracks, trying to catapult you through the windshield… or worse yet, you might just find yourself trying to stay out of oncoming traffic. If you’re lucky, the car’s tires will only rub the curb. I think we’ve all been there at one time, or another.
That’s kind of how life experiences tend to make us grow… by sheer force! Sink or swim, life or death! You have to think fast, choose wisely, and definitely know how to put out fires, stop the bleeding, as well as, knowing where the Band-Aids are hiding!
At least my car (life) comes with a stellar manufacturers warranty. My agent always fixes the damages, putting me back on the road, quickly. I will admit that my car usually ends up facing a new direction, but with a full tank of gas and new driving instructions.
Pothole experiences are where God does his best work, I think. He makes the best corrections, top notch repairs to all damages, and he even provides the most beautiful band-aids.
The most precious time in my journey, hands down, was having and raising my three daughters when they were babies!
Don’t get me wrong, I carry their older years in my heart as well, but the baby phase was the most difficult to leave behind.
The doctors said I would never conceive … and if I did, I would not be able to carry a baby to full term, due to my medical history. I had a great many difficulties in my young life, of which, now is not the time or place to go into in any great detail. I will simply say that babies were not supposed to be in my future!
I became pregnant 8 times, losing 5 in order to have the three that I did carry to full term. The sicker I was, the better, because I knew my body was holding on to the pregnancy. I relished every bit of morning sickness, every stretch mark, crazy cravings and chubby pounds I gained.
My first daughter didn’t want to exit the building, forcing the doctor to induce my labor 2 full weeks after my due date… she is my stubborn Drama Queen, to this day!
My second daughter and I both nearly died in childbirth, as my placenta ruptured prematurely, causing an emergency Caesarian section. She was born 2 weeks early and still weighed in at 8 lbs. 6 oz. when she arrived. She was a very fussy baby, being dubbed Kaitlungs… though, to this day, she’s the quietest and most reserved daughter of all three!
My third daughter was the easiest pregnancy, easiest delivery, and tiniest of the three… born 2 weeks early and weighing in at a solid 8 lbs. She literally shot out and landed in my doctors arms, being dubbed the surfing baby! She is most like me, of all my girls… just as strong minded, sassy and bright!
It was after her delivery that my doctor said, no more pregnancies … the risk was just too great for me to continue having babies. Thus, my season of bearing children had finally come to an end.
You may scoff, but I miss every detail of those years… every sleepless night, every tantrum, every band-aid handed out! I miss nursing my babies, changing their diapers, cuddling and rocking them gently, while they slept in my arms.
If I could, I would have bottled up and saved the smell of their breath, their skin… their hair!
If only I had made recordings of their laughter, cries, shouts, whispers and bickering… oh well, no more woulda coulda shoulda, in that regard!
I did make journals for each of them, with letters and stories of things they did and said, that I have saved all these years… I tried so hard to plan ahead, knowing that memories fade and things can so easily be forgotten over time.
Thank goodness I did that, because even if I had to say goodbye to that phase, I can easily go back through those books and memories, remembering and cherishing them over and over. Who knows, maybe one day my daughters will want those books to read with their children… maybe not. I’m still glad I dreamt of them, birthed them, raised them, and wrote things down for them… that way it’s not really goodbye to that phase, is it? My blood runs through their veins… they will always be my babies… and I will forever be their mother!
As a parent, we all know that when your kids are not making noise, it never bodes well! When it gets silent… we usually go looking for the noise makers that are now abnormally quiet!
Not my parents… no no… somehow, they were never really concerned about where we were, or what we were doing. Due to this lack of supervision, we tended to get into trouble.
Some time ago, I shared a funny story about how we let nearly 2 dozen baby mice loose in the house by accident, only to have my mother discover the mass graveyard in between the cushions of her favorite couch, some months later!
There was also the time when I was riding on the back of my brothers bike and he nearly decapitated me while trying to cut through a trailer park that had one of those steel cords strung across the driveway! Try explaining the burn mark to my parents… there aren’t many believable stories to cover over what looked like an attempted murder.
Then there was the time we tied helium balloons around our cats tails and they tore through the house in terror, knocking over anything that wasn’t nailed down… that was a crazy mess! We hadn’t thought about how hard it would be, recapturing the the little fur balls, in order to remove said balloons.
Anyway, I think you can see a picture developing in your minds, as to how unsupervised we were, thereby providing ample time for one of our best DIY projects!
My brother was about 9 and I was barely 7, when we came up with an idea to build a fort, but not just any fort… we needed a secret one! The problem lay in the fact that we lived in Eastern Oregon… hot, dry, and flat, with no trees available for making into forts!
What’s a kid going to do? If you can’t build up, then the logical thing to do is to build down… but where?
We decided among ourselves that the back yard seemed the best place to work, because no one went back there and it was easy to hear my mom call us in for dinner.
At first it was easy to cover the hole with the grass we had cut out for digging down underground, but eventually we had to steal a plank of wood to lay over the hole, covering that with the grass. We had nearly dug up against the foundation of the house, before anyone noticed the mounds of dirt we had been throwing willy nilly over the backyard fence.
Yup!
Got our hind ends paddled and the hole was caved in, refilled and the grass restored.
If you’re thinking that this was the end of our DIY ing… think again, my friends!
All true DIY ers know the golden rule… if you fail the first time… try, try again! And again, we did!
We simply moved our construction zone further out into the desert behind the neighborhood we lived in at the time.
First, we set to work digging down nearly 6 feet, carving out steps for us to climb up and down out of the hole. From there we dug straight in nearly 15 feet before carving out a hobbit house sized hole under the desert above us. We took the dirt from the hole and spread it all over the area nearby, so that there would be no mounds to be seen by spying eyes; lessons had been learned from our first attempt. We spent nearly a week sneaking blankets, toys, food and water from our home, to stock our new underground bunker.
It wasn’t until my brother got a spanking for stealing candy out of the cupboard, and angrily running away to hide in the tunnel, that anybody had any reason to go looking for our hideaway. All the grown-ups cornered me and questioned if I knew where he was, scaring me into giving up the coordinates of our outlaw camp… the gig was up!
It was a good thing that we were in the heat of summer, when there was no rain to fill the hole and drown us, or worse yet, cave in on us. I will never forget the look of shock, surprise, fear, and awe on my stepdads face as he climbed 6 feet down into our DIY creation. He was both impressed and terrified at what we’d managed to do without accidentally killing ourselves. But he also never trusted us again, regularly patrolling the property and surrounding areas, and locking up all of his tools!
What can I say… if I’m gonna DIY something, I say, “go big or go home!”
When will we learn that words, just like guns, can be use for both good and evil alike?
You can remove all weapons from the hands of a man, but if his heart is still filled with wickedness, he will find a different weapon to replace the one taken!
If you’ve unsuccessfully changed the heart of a man, it won’t matter what words, weapons, or any other tools you give or remove from him… the heart is what determines how the tool is used!
Last I checked, only God can change the heart of a man. So, there simply aren’t any words worth removing, in my humble opinion. There are, however, a couple nefarious characters I’d like to permanently ban, but that’s not what the prompt was asking. We must stick to the prompt, right?!
Here, have a cookie, but you might want to pick off the cartridges first…
What a silly question to ask me? Six months is a long ways from here, so I really can’t tell you what challenges I’ll be facing, as I don’t fully know what they are yet!
Until such a time as I actually have a challenge worthy of bringing up to everyone, you’ll just have to make do with my stories, antics, ditties, and pity party shout outs… sorry. Don’t take my response as one of sarcasm, or even one that takes challenges lightly. If you know anything about my story, you know that I’ve had my share of challenges over the last several years. By no means do I think this prompt is a bad one, but it’s just not one I wish to dwell on.
I can imagine that there will be a large number of responses to the prompt, regarding other’s upcoming challenges, some good, and some quite difficult. For all of you, my heart goes out to you, as well as my prayers and well wishes for success in these challenges. I pray that you’ll be a go getter, tenacious, and dedicated. If I’m not going to share my challenges, the least I can do is support you in all of yours, right?!
Actually, if I had to come up with an answer for this prompt, I could talk about baking. Every morning I make you virtual cookies, and since they were a bit of a chore to create without adding in any calories, we can use that task as one of the challenges I’m facing.
If you think about it, I suppose that virtual cookie baking will still be one of my bigger challenges six months from now. That is, unless they come out with those food replicators that Star Trek always had. A girl can dream, can’t she?
Between my husband and I, we have raised 6 teenagers… boys and girls! One thing I have learned over the years is that the moment you attempt giving advice, they will bolt like a Ferel animal!
Why? Hormones!
Teenagers are similar in behavior, to a hot blooded Thoroughbred race horse… always hungry, mad, excited, horny and quite sweaty!
You feed them the best you can, and try to sooth them when they are angry. You try to calm them when they won’t stop bouncing off the walls, and diligently make efforts to coral them from freely using their private parts.
Daily, you make every effort to hose them off before they leave the house… throwing a stick of deodorant in their general direction. Ok, well, a horse may not know how to use a stick of deodorant, but then again, neither do most teenagers. I caught one of my kids using a can of Febreze for body spray… not even kidding!
I will go back even further, into my teenage years, confirming that I myself had intentionally assigned ALL adults with the label of ENEMY #1. Whether it was hormones, a traumatic upbringing or both… I did NOT listen to anyone!
No amount of coercing could entice me to go back and re-experience my teenage years, and quite honestly, kids today look the same as we did back then… hungry, mad, excited, horny and, yes… sweaty!
If I were to do anything for my teenage self… it would be to protect her, shelter her, encourage her, and guide her through my example, instead of my wordy grownup words…
At this present moment, my most favorite person to be around is my newest granddaughter, but I’m being partial, I realize.
Truthfully, though, I wouldn’t say that I necessarily have names of people on a list that I’d prefer to be around. I generally love to be around anyone desiring fellowship, needing encouragement, or especially those in need of prayer.
Society currently seems to be buried in their smart phones, completely oblivious to everyone and every thing around them. Nobody holds a door open, or even acknowledges when someone holds it for them. And, there’s little to no eye contact. Get in, get what you need, and get out! Don’t make any sudden movements, or hold eye contact for any length of time, with anyone!
I think the problem stems from many differing sources, and I’ve not the time nor energy to spell them all out. What I do know is that there are indeed those still out there, somewhere, in dire need of love, tenderness, forgiveness, human touch, and guidance.
If you’ve not noticed any hungry eyes near you, then maybe you’ve stopped looking.
I realize how much easier it would be to turn to familiar, and safe favorite people, but perhaps we’ve been called to do much more. What if that’s where the problem lies, deep in the heart of man. Our natural bent is toward self… self-preservation, self-esteem, self-love, and self, self, self! I’m not even off the hook, here.
Having a generous heart is taught, contrary to what some may believe. No one is born with a benevolent heart, even if I think my SugarPlum is perfect in every way! She’ll need to be shown, hopefully, by the village of family that surrounds her on every side.
Perhaps, if more of those villages start popping up, society might have a chance at becoming better than we are, thus far. Just sayin.
While my life hasn’t exactly been a bed of roses, I honestly have so many gifts that come to mind for this prompt.
To save us all a great amount of time I’ll just say that God has been so very good to me, lavishing me with gifts on any given day. He’s been doing it for more years than I can recall.
The funny thing is that these gifts were often small, and rather unnoticeable to most… but not to me!
There were times over the years that a gift received felt like the best gift, ever! That was, until the next really beautiful gift arrived, requiring that I make room for yet another precious thing to share the favored spotlight.
Take my children, for instance! How could I ever say which one was a better gift than the other? Or what about any of our seven precious grandchildren born to us, or those still yet to come?
Then there’s all of my fluffy, furry, and, oh so loved pets… what about them? I couldn’t choose one over the other, because each had something special.
Basically, anytime a gift arrives with love attached, it will fall into my favored folder.
Why else do you think I make you virtual cookies each morning? I know it’s only a sentimental, and rather silly, way of expressing my feelings. Hopefully, you can look past the silly part, in order to accept the love part. Though they be only an image on a page, know how much love has been prayed into those little morsels. They’re a gift!
Cookies?
Sorry, but I ate one of the letter E’s… I was hungry, ok!
Journey With Me! 