PSALM 100 SERVED WITH A CUPPA

 Psalm 100.

A psalm I had memorized in 4th grade as part of Mrs. Munday's scripture memory assignment. Morningside Elementary School. Ah-h those were the days of prayer in public school. To this day, she remains as one of my all time favorite teachers* and this psalm in the King James translation remains in my heart.

Mama Davenport's Bible, KJV, July 1945

However, today's All to Jesus entry gave me new insight into this memory-evoking psalm.

Author Robert Morgan states that stanza 1 (vv. 1-3) are devoted to gladitude as we "shout to the Lord and serve Him with gladness." Stanza 2 (vv. 4-5) is about gratitude as one enters the His gates with thanksgiving and His courts with praise

That's why a cuppa spiritual at-TEA-tude this morning to start my day in His Presence---a rich blend of glad-TEA-tude & gra-TEA-tude!

*I still keep the note which she wrote to me in 2009 when I was going through my cancer treatments/surgeries.

CONSIDERING CHARACTER: REMEMBERING DADDY!

Clifton Thacker Adams. Daddy. The kindest man I ever knew!

Dance w/ Daddy my 45th class reunion

• A faithful husband. 
• My dancing Daddy. I learned to dance standing on his feet & looking up to him. He taught me not to look at my feet because that could cause me to stumble. A biblical analogy I adhere to even today, knowing not to look down on my circumstances (or I might lose my way/footing) but to look up and focus on the face of my dance partner, my heavenly Father, who will lead me.
• A loyal friend. Daddy would always fill-up at Rudy's Texaco even if it had the highest prices in town because Rudy was his friend. It helped that the attendants pumped the gas because Daddy never pumped his own gas.

• A man of courage who fought for his country in WWII & was wounded in the isle of Leyte in the Philippines, though he rarely talked about it. 
• A man with a great work ethic, regardless of the pay. His first job paid $19 a week. Daddy worked until September 2010, retiring at age 87.
• A man of consistency. His methodical routine defined him. We all knew his schedule. Post off ice at 10 am. At 11am he would be "walking for exercise" (at the mall in his later years) at 3 pm he would be standing on the porch of Hopkinsville Livestock waiting for the school bus to drive by so that he could wave at his granddaughters, Polly & Allyson, and at 9 pm he would be peeling his nightly orange. On Sundays he would be at the First Methodist Church sitting in the pew---back row of front center section on  right hand side.
• A man of few words. A wise man. A man of understanding. Did he know his character reflected scripture? A truly wise person uses few words; a person with understanding is even-tempered. (Proverbs 17:27)

• A quiet, gentle man. I never heard him raise his voice.

• A "gentleman" as well. In his final weeks, he wore a monitor so that he wouldn't stand alone and lose his balance. In the dining room the monitor alarm sounded constantly as Daddy stood every time a lady came to his table.

Daddy died 7 years ago today.

My older brother, Buddy said it well in this morning's text.

"Daddy never said anything bad about anyone and no one said anything bad about him."

His character is etched on my heart. My hope is that the next generations, his grandchildren  and "great grands" will consider the character of their Grandaddy Brud and emulate it as they remember him.

Disclaimer---I am my brother's favorite sister, I just happen to be his only sister.

RIGHT NEIGHBORLY

Pansy Pot. A neighborly gift.
The best part is my "green thumb" neighbor's understanding of my deficiency in this area.
Master Gardener extraordinaire. She believes in "helping," not shaming, the less inclined.
So....when the temps were due to drop, I got a text that it would be okay to take them in out of the elements, even hard rains. When the deadheading was needed, I received the info on the best place for pinching. Now that's a good neighbor.
Pansies for the Patio. A right neighborly gift for sure.

Growing up in a small town, Daddy had a way of recognizing those on our block who were "right neighborly." In fact, he's the originator of the term for me. Christine and Pappy, who love me as a grand daughter, were "RIGHT NEIGHBORLY in all caps! (Galatians 5:14)
Daddy also spoke of "old" Dr. Dade being "right neighborly." I suppose sometimes it's more difficult for the elderly to be "right neighborly" when a 6 year old girl picks, without permission, their beautiful King Alfred daffodils because she wanted to give them to her mother who had always admired them. Being said little girl, I was required by Daddy to "march" right over to the Dades' home and apologize, that was more than the neighborly thing to do, it was the right thing to do. (Exodus 20:5)

Dragging my feet, literally, and pleading "right" motives was not an acceptable excuse.
I marched. (Matthew 19:19)

Dr. Dade accepted my apology and said the right thing to do would be to let him know when I needed flowers for my mother and he would help me choose the right ones from his yard. (Romans 13:8)

That was above and beyond being right neighborly!

CHOOSE: HOMETOWN FUN, FROLICKING AND FOOD

Fun, frolicking and food in one's hometown---encompasses familiar places as well as brand new spots. 

Place of longest totality for viewing the solar eclipse was none other than Hopkinsville, KY, aka Hoptown by the residents.

A peek at the old home place---2211 So. Virginia. I puddled.

Virginia Street cousins

Ferrell's---a must stop for anyone for a good ole greasy burger.

A stop at Riverside Cemetery---more puddling, to pay respects to "The Adams Family!" You can see Mother and Daddy's graves between the columns. Pappy & Christine Young, our across the street neighbor for 50+ years, plots are still just across from the family.

Then it was on to Kelly, just north of Hopkinsville, location of the "little green men" landing place on August 21, 1955. Ah-h-h how the legend has grown.

Leaving town via 9th street we got a sackful of delicious Whistle Stop Donuts and waved good-by to the Eclipseville.

So grateful for the time to share with family and to "drive" down memory lane. How easy to give thanks when one's heart is overflowing with praise and gratitude. (1 Thessalonians 5:18)

Old Rugged Cross

The "Old Rugged Cross"...doesn't seem so far away today. Maybe, because of time spent in His Presence.

"Rugged Cross"---made by N. Bozard, a Kentucky artisan sold in Hopkinsville, my hometown, and given by a good friend---a cherished gift to cling to as I study God's word.

CHEERLEADER!!

3/11/11

Do you have a cheerleader in your life? Are you a cheerleader in someone else’s life? When Mother died in 2001 I lost my #1 cheerleader. It's such a loss when the one who loves you unconditionally is “gone.” Yet, the Lord in his faithfulness has given me lots of "encouragers" throughout my life. They just became more relevant when Mother was absent from said life.

At Noah’s “first graders” basketball game last week their Tiger team even had cheerleaders. Not sure they fully understood cheering for the team but the words were right and their equipment included megaphones and pom-poms---essential to making sure the words could be heard. Positive words. Encouraging words.

Even as a Morningside Elementary cheerleader, (short one on far right side of back row----can’t miss that home perm) I learned lessons about supporting others. All our cheers were of the "2-4, 6- 8, who do we appreciate" variety. We weren’t even allowed to “yell” anything with negative connotations toward the opposing team.

I need to be more of a cheerleader for my own family. Daughter Molly has a way of taking me to task if I become too “preachy.” I can all too easily recount the bad possibilities that one might encounter on chosen courses of action. I call it being realistic. She calls me a “Debbie Downer” or a “Negative Nancy”----especially if my remarks in anyway thwarts her plans. Even when I explain that I was only trying to be helpful, she says I spell helpful as c-o-n-t-r-o-l. Control is not encouraging. Neither is false praise or overindulgence. Enabling is not encouraging.

It’s scriptural to encourage one another. The world needs more cheerleaders. I would “suit up” but I’m no longer eency. But.....I still have several of my high school letters. Maybe I’ll hang them up as reminders to cheer on family and friends in their life journeys. Maybe I’ll look for that old “M” to urge me to be Molly’s cheerleader as my mother was for me.

1 Thessalonians 5:11 Therefore encourage one another and build each other up,

Hebrews 3:13 But encourage one another daily,……

Ask yourself these questions: Do I bring sunshine or gloom into the room? Do I excuse myself by redefining negativity, by saying, "I'm just a worrier or I was born that way?" Or, "It’s just my nature. I’m depressed, always have been."

Give it up for others. Grab a pom-pom and be visible with your support. Use a megaphone for words of encouragement and drown out the negative. Stand in someone else’s corner. Be on their team. Be their cheerleader.

Routine for a “New Dance”

4/22/10     I am a Daddy's Girl! 

During"back in the day" college years my phone rang every Wednesday, as Daddy could call long distance "free" from Clarksville Livestock Company,

For years, my daddy has been “routine” personified. He ate grapefruit for breakfast everyday. He walked every day. Had Wednesday lunch at Mama Davenport’s in Clarksville, TN every week. You could plan your days by him---and really down to the hour and sometimes even the minute. We often joked about him being the “man to set your clock by.”

• 6:14 am wake-up
• 7:15 am “library time.”
• 8am out the door.
• 10:15 post office run.
• 3:15pm front step Hopkinsville Livestock Company (originally Altsheler and Payne) with an ice-cold 6½ oz. bottled coke---the ones in the bottle with the light green tint and embossed at the bottom with the name of the local bottler. He chose that time to watch his granddaughters, Polly and Allyson, come by on the school bus.
• 9 pm his orange that he ate every night in front of the TV---a dish towel over his lap to catch the drips.
• Bedtime 10:14.

As he aged, the routine changed somewhat and his coke became a 12 0z. can b/c the little grocery in Trenton, KY where he got his “bottle” supply finally ran out. He eventually changed to the canned “diet Coke” variety. His orange became a ½ an orange. Lunch at Roundies remained a daily routine and any of the waitresses could get his order w/o writing it down b/c it rarely varied---salmon patties on Monday, always beets on his Tuesday plate, chicken and dumplings for Thursday and ending his week with his Friday fish. They always brought his jello with fruit about 2/3 through his meal. A nod from him was all it took. Sat. lunch at the VFW was a given b/c for his “big” dollar in the jar donation, he was fed---a lunch this World War II “purple heart recipient” deserves.

That routine gave him security---it’s what he hung his hat on. Plus, when Mother was living, she supported his routine and kept it running smoothly for him. Now he hangs his hat and coats and clothes all over everywhere---although there seems to be a system to that too, I just don’t always understand it.
In the last 6 mos. Daddy really began to fail---maybe even the past year but I was not with him as much b/c of my treatment/surgeries in Texas. He still walked at the mall, though slower and not as far, and in the past month, not at all. More and more his confidence is deteriorating. His memory is fleeting and too much of the time he won’t even try but just say, “I can’t remember anything.” I hear him talking to himself trying to remind himself of what is next and even his speech falters some. What I am seeing is that Daddy is desperately trying to hold on. Trying to hold on to life as he once new it. I want to hold on for him---to hold on to the healthy Daddy, still walking his mile. Daddy, working at age 88. Daddy, only taking 1 aspirin a day Daddy and reading The Upper Room daily.

Daddy---the way I’ve always known him.

Daddy, my first dance partner---the one who danced with me standing on the top of his feet as a child----danced with me at my wedding and even at my 45th high school class reunion. There won’t be any more of those dances with my earthly father. That makes me very sad!

How do I handle this new struggle in unfamiliar territory?
I, who just 2 nights ago encouraged others to “dance,” am going to have to apply those same principles to new steps needed for this unfamiliar dance---a dance to a new tune with my heavenly Father.

Discovering that I need new revelation from God’s word or maybe it’s new application of truth I already know---THOTS---Trusting Him On This Subject as I begin to seek

Accepting that aging of a parent and its physical difficulties are for the most part out of my control and accepting (trying) my emotional pain

Noticing God’s hand in the provision of 2 brothers who are the best and the one who is closest in distance never waivers in attentiveness to Daddy’s needs

Celebrating last night’s phone call---Daddy sounded good and even told me he got some chili at Roundies for lunch b/c it was the daily special---but he said “it wasn’t that special” and he wouldn’t order it again.

Extending hope to others in this type struggle as I learn from it---but hoping others will extend to me their stories of “long distance” care for parents and how it’s worked for them

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort,who comforts us in all our affliction so that we will be able to comfort those who are in any affliction with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God. 2 Corinthians 1:3-4