The Wonders of Childhood

The immediate days following Jesus birth are somewhat of a blur to me.  Joseph went into Bethlehem and registered for the census, as required.  However, following that act he worried for days because God placed concern upon his heart.  There were so many people that knew about my son’s birth and even though I have kept quiet, fearing for the babe’s safety, people still gossip.  We fear word will reach Herod.  Joseph said that God has warned him in a dream that we must take a different route home where we will gather a few meager possessions and flee to Egypt , remaining there until God instructs us further.

 

It was good that we took heed to Joseph’s concerns as we’ve since learned that one of the Magi that had stopped at the manger the night of Jesus birth had told a story of seeing a babe born in the cold of night in Bethlehem while in route to Israel and about how all manner of people came to worship him that night.  It so happened that at the same event where the Magi was telling the story, purely for entertainment purposes, one of the King’s wise men---a scholar of the old testament—reminded the King that Micah predicted that a savior---a “King of all Kings” would be born in Bethlehem.  Herod panicked. Fearful that Jesus would grow up and overthrow him on the throne.  So he ordered all of the male children of toddler age and younger killed in Bethlehem.

 

Oh…how I grieve for those mothers.  When I heard of this I wept.  I went to the temple and prayed for those broken hearts.  As while I felt great relief that my son was safe, I knew that these other children had suffered—along with the families that loved them.

 

We remained in Egypt until Herod’s death.  Even then we are not truly safe, but we are tired and missing our kinsmen.  Joseph and I finally decide to return to the district of Galilee, to our home in Nazareth.

 

By now Jesus is a promiscuous toddler and into everything.  He is very curious in nature and learns quickly.  I am fortunate that I was taught how to read in order to study the scripture.  My father was educated, though that was not the norm for our time and place.  He received great joy in reading to us as children.  I am passing this passion onto my son, Jesus.  We spend many evenings by the hearth with scripture in one hand and my precious son upon my lap.

 

Jesus loves the story of Noah’s flood most of all.  He has such compassion for all living things, right down to the wooly caterpillars.  Few of my people have been awarded the gift of literacy.  Again, I believe God had his divination involved, knowing the Son of God would eventually make use of this skill.

When we arrive in Galilee we are welcomed by our family as we have been gone a long time.  Joseph’s  sons have grown so much we barely recognize them.  They have taken good care of our property and the family business of building and tent making continued in our absence under the guidance of my father.

 

My brothers and sisters have prepared everything for our return.  A great party in our honor is held for all our kinsmen with food of every variation, pomegranates, cheese, lentils, fresh baked unleavened breads dipped in olive oil and spices, fish---and even roasted lamb covered in a bitter herb sauce—which is a rare treat.  The wine flowed from large barrels.  It was a joyous occasion that I will not forget.

 

I had trouble keeping track of Jesus in the throng of relatives.  He fears no one and his curiosity sometimes gets the better of him.  Jesus, John of Zachariah (Elizabeth’s son), and Lazarus, another youth close in their age, all played together, hiding under furniture----climbing on people’s shoulders during the dancing---it was a wonderful time for Jesus.  He was able to meet his kinsmen and he developed the beginnings of a profound friendship with his two companions that would grow with him into his adulthood.

It is a constant challenge to be the mother of Jesus of Nazareth.

When he was twelve years old we went to Jerusalem to participate in the feast of the Passover.  The entire family traveled together, including all of the children, our parents, our cousins---it was quite a caravan.  Jesus couldn’t sleep for a week before we went each year.  He loved every holiday, but this was his favorite.  He took advantage of the opportunity to scout out the city. I eventually gave up trying to control him.  His intellect was so strong that keeping him in check was next to impossible.  

He had to collect every creature we came across that would fit in his girdle.  When washing his tunic it was common to find frogs, baby birds, or even mice.  I was surprised at nothing.  And amazingly, they all seemed to thrive in the palm of his hand even if when he found them they were injured.  I recognized he had the gift of healing, but held this close to my breast as God had instructed me.  I taught Jesus to be humble and quiet about his skills---they were a special secret between him and I.  He loved that we had special things that were known only between us—mother and son and his Lord on high.

 

On this Passover, we enjoyed the festivities with our kinsfolk.  Jesus, John of Zachariah and Lazarus were a threesome that would be seen on occasion running in circles and giggling from whatever game they were playing at the time.  When the feast was ended, we packed up our belongings and headed back to Galilee which was a full day’s journey.  We reached our home and were settling in, putting away our possessions when I realized I had not seen Jesus since we left Jerusalem.  I had assumed he was walking behind the caravan as was his custom.  However, he was nowhere to be found.

I was in a panic.  I ran screaming to Joseph!

“Have you seen Jesus?”

“No.”  Joseph replied, turning to me with an alarmed expression that matched my own.  Now I am even more afraid.  “I thought he was with Elizabeth and Zechariah!”……Joseph reached for my mantle on the hook that I had just placed there upon our return and handed it to me….”We must go back for him.”  I was exhausted, but feared for his safety—so we headed back to Jerusalem.

It took us three days to find him.  Three long--terrifying days.  I was so angry with him!  Yet, I’d give anything just to see him alive.

I had given up all hope.  We had checked the area where we had set up camp.  We checked the marketplace and the stables---no one had seen him.

On the third day I walked to the temple to pray.  I was so afraid. I was responsible for God’s child.  He has given him to me to watch and care over---and I had lost him.  How could I even face God now?  Although ashamed, I had nowhere else to turn but to God.

There….among a circle of elders, teachers, and wise men sat my son.  He was listening intently, occasionally asking questions.  When they explained a biblical verse he would expound on it and provide an allegory—a poem or parable that made the meaning even more clear for many of the men in the circle around him.  They were amazed by the depth of his understanding considering he was but a child.  I listened for a bit and my pride in him doused the anger and anxiety that had been poisoning my heart for the past three days.

Walking over to him I leaned down and touched him on the shoulder, “Son, why have you treated your father and me so?  Behold we have been looking for your anxiously.”

And he said to me, “How hard did you look for me?  Wouldn’t you have automatically known I would be in my Father’s house?”

The men sitting around him did not understand the question that he put to me and thought he was being disrespectful ……

But I did understand…..

I understood it well…….

The Birth

All of my life, as far back as I can remember, my family has planned for the day that I would be married.  It is the custom of our people that I must marry within my own tribe.  We marry very young, as a marriage is the joining for families and resources and is very important to the thriving of our people.

My husband had been chosen and the betrothal of marriage complete by the time I am 9 years old.  The groom’s father paid the mohar to my family which consisted of a beautiful vineyard, six pieces of silver, and reams of silk cloth.  My father, being a kind man, held these gifts until the final marriage ceremony at which time I would have gone to live with my husband’s family.  My father, being a kind man, planned to share some of the mohar with my groom and me so we could have some security as we started our lives together.  However, my groom is killed at an early age before I even have grown enough to go live with him.

Fate is a mysterious thing.  I am only two months away from my 16th birthday when this happens.  We were only weeks away from the wedding to celebrate my leaving to live with my new husband.  My mother has been preparing for this day in great anticipation.  Our people love gathering for blessed events such as this as a woman is looked fondly upon by the tribe for her hospitality and the men love an excuse to have a festival and cease a day’s work.  Now I am faced with the grief of losing my groom and other things are happening that make no sense to me.

My mother sits and weeps and I know not how to comfort her.  My father paces the room and my brothers and father are speaking in low urgent voices.  I have brought them great shame, yet I swear I am innocent.  I see the doubt in their eyes and I have never known such despair.

Not only am I without a husband, but I am with child.  I know not how.  My monthly cycle did not happen as expected, but since I have never been with a man I assumed I was ill, or perhaps it was late because of my upset.  I went to my mother and told her I must see the physician.  Before I could catch my breath our entire lives had changed from eager anticipation---to despair.  I hate the look of disappointment in my father’s  eye.  I reach for his hand and he pulls from my touch.  My heart stabs with pain as I love my father and it kills me to no longer have his admiration.

My brother has told my father of a widower in the tribe whose wife has been taken to heaven.  The man’s name is Joseph and he has several children and no one to help him in his household to raise them.

My father summons for Joseph, offering him the entire dowry, if only he will marry me and provide me protection from disgrace.

I have cried until my eyes have dried up and swollen so that I have trouble with my vision.  As I slept fitfully last night, God seemed to speak to me and offer me assurance.  I know not why this is happening, but I am trying to keep my heart open for understanding.

Joseph complains to my father as he is much older than me and feels he is not the best solution for a husband.  However, he has agreed to go to God in prayer tonight for guidance.

I know not what to do.  I am lost and afraid.

Joseph arrived this morning and said that an angel had spoken to him during his prayer and fasting. 

The angel had said,“Do not fear to take Mary as your wife.  The child she carries is of the Holy Spirit.  She will bear a son and you shall call him Jesus, God with us, and he will save people from their sins”. 

So when Joseph awakened, he hastened here to tell me and my father the good news.  Joseph warned me that his children are not in favor of our union, but he assures me they will grow accustomed to it.

Although I have some trepidation as to Joseph’s age, he seems to be a gentle man and it will save my family from disgrace.  No one will believe that the child I carry is conceived of the Holy Spirit.  I will keep this close to my heart until which time God leads me otherwise.  If I speak of this openly they will think me possessed by demons or a liar.

My mother has come from the market square, trading goods for fresh produce.  She has learned that a kinswoman in our family, an older woman beyond childbearing years, is with child and expecting to deliver within the next three months.  Because of the risks of this woman baring a child in advanced years, my mother is sending me to stay with her until her baby is born to assist her with chores. This will be good experience for me as I will learn the ways of which one births a child.

Joseph will go ahead and prepare a home for us from my dowry while I service my kinswoman, Elizabeth in the house of Zechariah. 

I packed a bag of clothing and left on a donkey for the city of Judah to stay with Elizabeth.  My time there was special.  Elizabeth, though old enough to be my own mother, was very kind.  When I entered her house the first day, she laughed, grabbing her extended womb, as the babe within her had kicked hard almost as if in response to my entering the threshold of their domain. 

Elizabeth laughed, “Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb.  Why is it I am favored that the mother of my Lord and Savior should come to service me in my own household?” 

She leaned in and kissed me on the cheek.  I felt love for her instantly.  She knew of my condition and even knew of my innocence, yet I know not how.  I found joy in it.  I was blessed by her—comforted by the Holy Spirit through her kindness to me.  God was offering me love poured out through this woman, his servant in the kingdom of heaven.  Our children will be close in age and perhaps Jesus and John will be friends as well as kinsmen.  It is a wonderful thought.

In the three months that I serviced the Zechariah household, Elizabeth and I had many opportunities for conversation. She was a wonderful story teller and her words were often witty, filled with entertainment.  I so enjoyed our time together.

She told me how she and her husband had so desperately wanted a child, yet they were barren.  Her husband had gone to the temple to pray.  She told me how God had spoken to her husband Zechariah, telling him she would bear a son and he would be named John.  Zechariah did not believe and he came down with an illness that had been circulating among the people that caused him to be weary early in the day and return home to his cot to rest.  God took his voice from him for several months in punishment for his mistrust of the Lord.  Being sick and unable to command his workers, Zechariah spent a lot of time at home with Elizabeth.  

"We spent many hours upon the cot enjoying the sanctity of our marriage vows as he recovered", Elizabeth tells me with a twinkle in her eye.

Does not her husband know that in God all things are possible?  Surely now he knows, as the birth of his son, John draws near.  Now the child will be raised knowing that he is very special---that he will prepare the people for the coming of the Lord and Savior—my precious son, Jesus.

I have felt my own babe quicken in my womb of late and my excitement grows.

Once the babe of Zechariah was born and Elizabeth recovered, it was time for me to leave and return to my husband.  I bade them goodbye, offering them prayer and blessings for their future as a family.  I too am now starting to slow with the burden of my child within me---being now six months into my pregnancy.  Joseph and I spend the next two months setting up our household with our meager belongings and starting our life together.  Joseph is a good husband, though he does not touch me the way a husband would touch a wife.  He tells me we must wait until the birth of the child.  Sometimes this makes me sad, as I am growing fond of him as a wife should for her husband.  Working by his side daily I see that the Lord has provided me a good man.  Joseph is kind, gentle, and loyal.  I work hard to be a helpmate to him and I trust him as the pastor to our household. 

Time seems to go by quickly.  These days it is difficult for me to move about.  The burden of my extended abdomen makes everything a challenge.  The baby is active and healthy within me.  I feel great love for him even though we only touch each other through the skin of my womb.  I am still so amazed that this child was conceived without me knowing a man.  Sometimes I am fearful, but then the Lord wraps me in a warm glow and I calm my spirit.  It is important for me to remain quiet and do his bidding when the time comes.  I must keep many things to myself and not be like the women in the market who have lips that are out of control at times.  God has asked me to keep all things to myself unless led by Him to disclose them.  This is easy for me as I am naturally shy and not boisterous, as some women in my tribe.

Joseph has returned home from work.  He is a craftsman and builder.  He has heard in his travels today that a decree has gone out from Caesar Augustus that a census is being taken and all must be enrolled each to the city of his ancestors.  Although we live in Nazareth, Joseph is of the lineage of the house of David, which is Bethlehem.  He must go there to be enrolled.  I could stay behind, but I am close to my time of deliverance and Joseph does not want me to be without him.  The other children will be safe, as we will not be gone long.  We have relatives who can watch over them.

Joseph's loving, kind heart warms me.  We discuss that the trip may be difficult for me in my current condition, just days away from birth.  Travel may not be safe.  However, we feel led to make the trip.  Sometimes one must trust when being given a gentle push by God. 

We arrive in Bethlehem late into the evening.  There is only one inn in the city and it is full as many people have come for the census.  Riding on the donkey so many hours has my womb cramping and I am exhausted to the point that I feel ill.  Joseph is very worried about me and knows I must find some place to rest.  We head back outside the city as we’ve been told a farmer sometimes allows visitors free boarding in the manger he built for his livestock.  The farmer is a kind man and gladly offers us rest in the straw bedding under the cover of the manger awning and out of the cold.  I am relieved.  The pain is getting worse and I fear that the babe is going to be born this night.

Over the next several hours labor increased and it was obvious that I would be giving birth here in the manger.  Joseph made a bed for the child using a water trough and padding it with straw.  He pulled out swaddles of cloth from our bags in which to wrap the babe upon his birth.  Joseph held my hand and saw me through the pain.  He delivered the child, as he’d helped his first wife in labor with all of his children.  I was fortunate to have him by my side.  I also realize now how fortunate I was to have served my kinswoman, Elizabeth when she had her son John, as that experience prepared me for this occasion.  God is truly wonderful in how he knows every challenge we will face before it even happens. 

As soon as the baby was born and Joseph had cleared the mucous from the child’s mouth, the babe let out a cry and I was handed my son to nestle to my breast.  Oh what a heavenly moment.  It was the closest to God I have ever felt.  Through tears of joy I devoured the sight of him.  His skin smelled new and was intoxicating in a way I could not expect anyone but another mother to understand.  He had a soft downy layer of hair that felt like spun satin.  His eyes, though swollen from the birth, squinted at me---dark, glistening like diamonds.  I had never known such joy as this moment in time.  Have you ever felt love so strongly that you heart literally felt like it was expanding in your chest and surely would not be contained by the walls of flesh surrounding it?  That was how it was for me.  Glory to God on the highest.  Blessed is His name.

Before long visitors started coming into the manger.  I was exhausted from my labor and wished to sleep—but the birth of this child, though I wanted it to be private, seemed to be announced by the angels on high---as the moon was brighter than I’d ever seen it---a huge presence in the sky—more than one hundred times larger than normal, almost taking up the entire horizon.  The stars brilliantly illuminated the dark night and the travelers spoke of multiple stars falling to earth almost as if the stars were raining down upon us. 

I thought, perhaps, in my newfound joy I was just seeing things through the magic of motherhood.  But people kept arriving in the manger---as if drawn to us somehow by an invisible force.  Again, my heart quickened with fear.  I love this babe so deeply.  I know he is but mine for the period of his childhood, but I want to protect him.  I have never felt love such as this in my lifetime.  I do not want to share him.  I would die for him.  Joseph reminds me I must accept what is to be.  Before the rise of the sun all type of people of all stations---from shepherds to kings---had stopped at the manger as a resting point in their travels—not knowing what had drawn them there until they saw my new babe and they worshipped him.  Some left us gifts, knowing we were simple folk without many possessions, far from home.  Looking back now, I realize God was trying to prepare me from the very moment of my babe’s birth to learn to share him with “the people”---the very people he would eventually save---save through the greatest sacrifice of all---his life.

This is my Christmas.......

Christmas dates back as early as 98AD when Rome declared the birth of Christ be celebrated as a time of feast. While no one knew the exact date in which Christ was born, there were several pagan festivals that occurred around December 25th and this date was chosen.

In Colonial America there were very few Christmas celebrations. In fact, as recent as 100 years ago Christmas was declared illegal in parts of the United States, including New England, as devout Christians still considered the celebration of the Christmas holiday as a pagan ritual and in reproach to Christ. In fact, it wasn't until after the American Civil War that Christmas truly became popular nationally. The country used to be as divided about Christmas as it was about slavery. Christmas being very popular in the south and not as popular in the north. I guess that's why I've had a romantic love for the south.....

The first American States to declare Christmas a legal holiday were Alabama in 1836 and Louisiana and Arkansas in 1838...relatively recent historically. It wasn't declared a federal holiday until 1870.

Christmas became "commercialized" with the emergence of Women's Magazines...believe it or not. In fact, it was America that "reinvented" Christmas because prior to this the holiday was a raucous drunken holiday, whereas women' magazines turned it into a celebration of family, love, peace and "making childhood memories". So we have Women's Day and such to thank for that, ironically.

I have been very fortunate. I had a wonderful childhood with loving parents, good friends, a big family---who gathered on holidays. I remember my Mom Mom Pearl's huge tree in her living room that glowed with tinsel and lights. Each package was carefully wrapped and exquisitely decorated---and the presents were always piled high. Goodies abounded on the counters---fudge, cookies, cakes, and punch.

Even in the hardest financial times I always tried to make Christmas very special for my children in honor of the memories I had from my own childhood. It is very difficult for me, in this time of financial woe to not be able to load the car down with gifts for everyone I love. I am having to go back to basics...and find joy in the little things in life.

Everyone in all walks of life is feeling the strain right now. Nationally and even globally we are facing uncertain times like we haven't seen in recent history. A lot of this is our own doing---as greed and taking our eye off Christ has brought us here.

So while I won't have a pile of presents under the tree this year---I am thankful that I have my mother who is also my best friend. I traumatize her daily because she worries about me---and I am grateful for her worry because without her---I would be lost. I am thankful for my three daughters who have grown in to beautiful young women who make me proud every day of my life. I am thankful for my grandsons who keep me in touch with my "child within"--and help me reconnect with my own wonderful childhood memories. I am thankful for lifelong friendship from several people in my life who have stood by me for fifty years--even when I was not worthy of that friendship---as I am human--and in my humanity--I am flawed.

I am thankful for my very special new-found love, Danny who makes me smile--laugh--and fills each day with a joy for the future.

And most of all I am thankful for Christ---who came and walked among us so that we could see, by example, how we should treat one another. I am thankful for a loving, forgiving, and compassionate God who has loved me unconditionally---who has taken me back into his loving embrace even after I ignored him for years.

So on this Christmas Day....presents will still be abundant...they just might not be in shiny packages with bows and tinsel....they will be in the loving hearts that gather around me...they will be in the glistening eyes of my grandchildren as they laugh and play raucously about the room...they will be in seeing my mother smile when I know her heart is broken in missing my father.....they will be in the soft touch of the love of my life.....

And I bow in such esteemed gratitude to my Lord and Savior for these gifts........

Merry Christmas to all of you.....

Debby

I Want To Be Thankful For Love, Acceptance & Tolerance

I have always been fascinated with the real story behind Thanksgiving.  In school they lead you to believe that the Pilgrims and the Indians sat down to share a meal together and were great friends forever and ever Amen----

It simply didn't happen that way.  If so...where are all the Indians?  I mean, I occasionally see them but for the most part the majority are on reservations or they keep to themselves.

I go to church and love my church family.  However, I also have some very dear friends that practice non-standard religions or---esoteric religions.  I always look more at the soul than what denomination someone belongs to....and while I have a LOT of flaws personally---I hope to never change this about myself.  I still believe I will go to heaven and be with my Jesus when the time comes.  I had a couple of people in my life growing up that showed me this "tolerance"--leading by example----My earthly father (Bob Lyons) and my Aunt Patsy (Kenton).  They were cousins and they both had a great sense of humor and loved everyone.  Both went to heaven this year.

The irony is that as human beings, children of God, we tend to let history repeat itself--especially when it comes to making the same mistakes--over and over again.  The Puritans arrived around 1620, fleeing persecution in England because they had religious beliefs that were different from the majority.  They wanted the "freedom" to practice their religion without persecution.  Sounded like a good idea---in theory.  Right?

When they arrived their diets were based largely on wheat products which didn't grow very well in the rocky soil here in America where they had set up their homes.  England had told the Pilgrims that they were to live in a communal territory--a community owned by all.  They didn't really own land, the land was parceled out and equally shared among the settlers.  Of course, being human, that was not enough.  Greed quickly played a part and the settlers wanted more land...they had to have more than the guy next door because it is human nature to want to "have a bigger house---a faster car".

They would have starved to death if not for one Indian in particular named Squanto who helped the Pilgrims by teaching them how to grow local crops like corn, squash, and pumpkin---the difference between the local poisonous plants and the plants that were good for food or medicine---and how to hunt.  By the time fall arrived things were looking much better for the Pilgrims--thanks to good ole' Squanto, so they decided to hold a feast and invite Squanto's family (which turned out to be more than 90 people---boy were they surprised).

That's the "nice" part of the story---the part we celebrate today.

However, there's a dark side because in our "human" sin filled nature we can never be satisfied.  The Pilgrims wanted more land and coveted the land the Indians possessed.  The Pilgrims (who if you remember ironically fled England because they wanted religious "freedom) started to look down on the Indians because they would not accept the Puritan religious beliefs.  The Indians had their own way of worship and the Puritans were intolerant.  In no time war ensued in the name of religion and greed.  Sound familiar?

As an American today we see on Yahoo that "Terrorists may be inspired by the holidays".  The terrorists hate us because we do not believe in their religion.  You cannot turn on CNN without seeing someone killing in the name of God.  This tragedy has been going on for all time.  How do you think God feels about this behavior?

I love my God--he is my salvation, my sanity, my friend, and my counsel.  However, I pray that he keeps my heart open to accept people who are not like me.  Let Him fill my heart with Thanksgiving for what I "DO" have and not be greedy for what other's have.  Let me love all people, of all races, all religions, and all walks of life---

I miss my earthly Father today.  He was a quiet man most of the time.  A quick wit---but ever tolerant of all people---all walks of life.  That man loved to eat and Thanksgiving was one of his favorite holidays.

Hey Dad---hope you and Aunt Patsy are having a great Thanksgiving today in heaven!  I miss you both dearly----

And tell Squanto that I said "Hi".....thanks to him I'll be having Pumpkin Pie today.

:-)

Doodles

The Impact of the Recession on Pets

Pets have always been an “American” tradition. There has been a lot of attention in the news on the human suffering aspect of this recession. No one has gone into depth thinking about or exposing the impact on the many abandoned pets. More people today are abandoning pets because of foreclosures, evictions and unemployment. There are die-hard pet parents that refuse to give up their pets even when facing these situations and they then become the “mobile homeless” population that are living in their cars...or with friends or family because they cannot find housing that is pet friendly—if they are lucky. Some are not so lucky and end up on the street.

There are even horror stories where people are evicted or foreclosed upon and their pets were trapped inside of a home where the pet parent cannot get to them because they are evicted while at work and the locks were changed with their animals left inside. It can take days to get through the legal tape to get access to them and in the meantime they suffer without food or water—scared because they don't know where their pet parents went.

Homeless people stand on street corners asking motorists for money. At night, their homeless dogs sleep with them under bridges or on park benches. These homeless pets suffer parasites, skin disease, malnutrition, heat stroke and exhaustion. When I worked in downtown Philadelphia the homeless people made sure their pets were fed first. However, even when the pet is the homeless person's priority they still do not have a good diet. Some people argue the homeless would be better pet parents if they gave up their pets instead of making them suffer the “life of the homeless”. They say, “Pet ownership comes with far more responsibility than someone with limited means can provide”. However, the same could be said for parenting. Few would suggest ditching your children just because times get tight. Instead of questioning how the homeless or poor can allocate their meager resources in a way that you would not...ask what love means to you. Could you love a pet...or a child until it was financially inconvenient to do so?

I am not judging. I am very sympathetic to everyone in today's harsh economic climate. I totally understand surrendering a pet because you feel they would have a better life with someone else. But I do suggest that maybe we need to do more to help one another so people do not have to make these choices. Landlords need to be more lenient and understand that pets are part of the American way of life. You can have as much damage done to a home from small children as you can have done by a pet. I had three children...I KNOW what they are capable of.

There's a lot of very scary things happening in our country right now. Stock market is like a bouncing ball. One in four homes is currently in foreclosure in the state of Maryland. Jobs are hard to find. We need to put AMERICA BACK TO WORK.

If I were a politician I would suggest the following:

1. Eliminate sales tax to encourage people to shop in the stores

2. Lower income tax rates

3. Prohibit landlords from being able to turn away tenants based on color, religion, family size, or pets. Landlords can request pet deposits, of course.

4. Pass legislation to allow veterinary care and medication as a tax deduction.

5. Give tax incentives to all businesses that source product, services, and employees from AMERICA. Tax penalties if these things are purchased outside the US.

We feel deeply about these problems. Going forward, I propose we only buy and sell products that are exclusively made in the United States...supporting the American work force.

When Andy and I buy new inventory...we are going to ask the questions about where the product was made and “sourced”. It will be more work...but we need to be part of the solution...not the problem.

We need to save ourselves....the good ole' USA...

We need to save our pets...

God Bless America!

Do Your Friends Think You Spoil Your Dog?

In a good and healthy relationship you will have the following basic needs met:

• The need for emotional support.
• The need to be heard and to be responded to with respect and acceptance
• The need to have your own view, even if others have a different view.
• The need to have your feelings and experience acknowledged as real.
• The need to live free from criticism and judgment.
• The need to have your work and your interests respected.
• The need for encouragement even when your situation seems grim--in fact more so when it's grim.
• The need for freedom from from angry outburst and rage.
• The need to feel that you have value

I believe that if you observe how a person treats their animals--it will define how they treat other human beings. Will Rogers says that "If there are no dogs in heaven then I want to go where they went".

Dog companions respect all of the basic human needs in a relationship that I mentioned above. Yet, there are some pet owners that do not offer their dog the same respect. There are still some dog owners that treat their dogs like livestock. Fortunately, they are more the exception, than the rule.

I want my purpose in life to not be based on monetary gain---or even my own happiness. But let me be useful, honorable, compassionate, and to make a difference in people's lives. In other words...."let me be a dog".

In the current economy I may appear a failure to many---but in my heart I have made a lot of friends. I also truly and honestly can speak the language of the people I come in contact with at my store because I totally understand that life with a dog means the following:

a. You should spend more on your dog's food than you do on a week's groceries

b. Your dog not only should sleep with you, but you should hover on the edge of the bed so as not to disturb his/her slumber.

c. You should go out for a drive just so your dog can get to ride in the car and go "by-by"

d. There's more pictures of your dog in your photo album or facebook than your family members

e. Your furniture is arranged so your dog is comfortable

The dogs in our family growing up have always been family members. Our collies got pancakes every Sunday morning. My father and mother planned their life around the comfort of their dog(s). And that's okay...

When it was all said and done, as my father lay in his hospice bed those final days, his little dog was with him every moment.

Because that's what dogs do.......

Love unconditionally--something as a human being we all desperately need that kind of love

Until next time, Toodles!

Wash my eyes with my tears.........

I've often wondered why God made it so we "cry tears". I understand basic tears are needed for lubrication. But I don't understand the physiology of why we cry. So I did a little research...

Besides humans, the only living creatures that cry are gorillas and crockodiles. (Now there's an interesting combination...God surely has a sense of humor).

I know my dog understands tears. I know my dog understands sorrow. Yet she cannot produce tears. I try not to question God's logic in how he created things...but why didn't he give tears to dogs? Our best friends? I do know when I'm sad and crying, she is right by my side. Just petting her and nuzzling her fur brings me comfort.

When we feel sadness it is registered by our cerebrum. The cerebrum is also the part of the brain that controls speech...so it makes sense that crying is a form of communication. And even though dogs can't cry themselves, they understand our communication to them of our sadness when we cry.

We need to communicate our sorrow as part of the healing process. The cerebrum tells the endocrine system to produce hormones...like leucine-enkephalin which is known to reduce pain and improve mood...it's a natural "drug" that God gave us. We don't need the artificial drugs for this...God gave us our own drug...we just have to listen and let the tears flow.

Crying is a good thing...

I don't look forward to crying. Who does? It ruins make-up and make-up is not cheap in this economy. It makes your face swollen, red, blotchy...and your nose run like a faucet.

But it's healthy. Much healthier than alcohol, cigarettes, or street drugs.

I've done a lot of crying lately. I am losing my daddy to cancer. He is fighting a valiant fight and I am so proud of him. He is the bravest...smartest...and most handsome man in the whole world.

I cry watching my mother stand by his side as she makes every precious day as good as it can be for him and for his children who want to spend as much time with him as possible. She cooks for us. She never thinks of herself...always of others.

Watching a parent suffer that you love, more than life itself, is so very hard. It also makes you face your own mortality with stark reality. It's amazing how 18 years seems like a very long time when you're 20 years old. But by the time you're 50 years old...18 years between you and your parents is but a blink of the eye. In my lifetime I've somehow managed to almost catch up to my parents in age...funny how that works.

The good thing that's coming out of all of these tears is that I'm learning to cherish my children, my friends, my family, my work, my pets...every tiny little thing about my life.............

Perhaps our eyes need to be washed with tears so that we may see life with a clearer view.....

May God Bless All Of You Today.

Go home and hug your pets....hug your family...and let the tears flow.

You'll feel better for it.