Recently we put our home on the market. Over the years we have moved a lot, particularly in the earlier years of our marriage. But, those moves happened during the years we were looking ahead to accommodating a growing family, a job change in another city, and a couple times simply because we could. We have also renovated some vacation or investment properties over the years, so the process isn't foreign to us.
But, this time is different. This time we are 'downsizing'. Yuk! The process was mentally and physically challenging from the onset. The reality of what we were getting ourselves into began when our Realtor insisted that we do CPR (clean, purge, repair) on the house as part of staging it. It is the 'purge' part we have had the difficulty with.
Purge: is such a harsh word to process while putting away a lifetime of family pictures, collectibles, gifts, and other personal mementos that journal our life as a couple and family. The word "Purge" means "to purify" but I call it "sterilize". And, as I wrap and pack away each item I wonder when/if I will see it again, and that was because in the purging process we came upon a couple of boxes that got buried in our basement that were mementos from our last move, hidden and forgotten. And, as we purge, with each item we tuck away the house is less 'ours'. And, in its own paradoxical way, it is making the process of leaving easier.
This time our decision to move was deliberate and designed to accommodate a different season of our lives. The kids are grown, some have moved away, they have busy families, and we are back to being a couple.
It has taken us awhile to adjust to the thought of less being more for us. We are still struggling with how to downsize much of our 'stuff' - no longer as much from our attachment to it as the time and effort involved in getting rid of it. But, I believe we are ready. And, after years of acquiring the many things we no longer need, what is of greatest value are the priceless objects, such as the small hand prints our kids pressed into clay in preschool, and other things that have reminded us of how fast the years speed by and how important it is to seize the days we have left. Isn't it amazing how long it takes us to fully learn that lesson?
So, I think what I'm saying is, "Less, indeed, is more."
Friday, February 15, 2013
Sunday, February 10, 2013
Fran Riedemann Books: An unintended sabbatical.
Fran Riedemann Books: An unintended sabbatical.: Four weeks ago began as a normal day. My husband brought me coffee in bed and then took our two Dachshunds, Larry and Lucy, outside, proceed...
An unintended sabbatical.
Four weeks ago began as a normal day. My husband brought me coffee in bed and then took our two Dachshunds, Larry and Lucy, outside, after which he proceeded to get ready for work, kissed me good-bye and left. The dogs got back in bed with me after their breakfast and burrowed down under the blankets, as Doxie's do, while I got up and got ready for the day.
It was eleven o'clock that Monday morning when I noticed Lucy standing by our back door, wild-eyed and appearing to be choking. By the time I got to her and picked her up I realized she wasn't breathing. She was gone in less than three minutes.
Four weeks later my stomach still clinches and I tear up when I think of those last moments and my complete inability to help her. So, this is my belated "Ode to Lucy".
She was a long-haired Dachshund, black and tan, and only eight years old when we lost her. When she became part of our family we already had a short-haired black & tan at home named Bob. Ken and I had tickets to a charity auction that was being held a few weeks before Christmas. The minute we arrived at the event we noticed someone walking around the ballroom with a ten week old Doxie puppy, appropriately wrapped in a big red chenille blanket dressed in a red sweater, making sure everyone saw her. I overheard my husband, Ken, telling someone, "We have one like that at home and they are a wonderful pet. The last auction we were at one went for nine hundred dollars." That was a huge compliment to Bob because Ken has warmed up to our dogs slowly, finally allowing Bob to sleep with us. Of course, we petted and admired her, and I jokingly told him, "You'll be done with your Christmas shopping if you buy me that puppy."
Later, when the live auction was beginning, I took a seat with some women and Ken stood across the room with a group of men. When they brought Lucy out the woman next to me asked "Isn't that your husband bidding on the puppy?" I think I said, "Surely not." before turning to look. But, amazingly, there he was with his card in the air. The auctioneer announced, "Two fifty, do I hear two seventy five?" Someone else bid. "Three hundred, do I hear three hundred?" Ken's hand shot up again. "Three hundred, do I hear three fifty." He badgered the crowd for awhile more, but the bidding had stopped, probably due to everyone else at the auction having enough common sense to not want to train a puppy during the winter months.
Ken kept looking around the room, clearly wondering if anyone else was going to bid. But, the auctioneer called out, "SOLD to the man over there!", pointing at Ken. A moment later I was handed my new puppy who came with free vet visits for six months, a crate, and her red blanket. We drove home in semi-shock, neither of us given to that kind of spontaneity very often. I still believe Ken was trying to win points with me by bidding feeling pretty safe because he thought the bidding war would go to $900 like it did the last auction we attended. He could also be fairly confident that even I would not want to spend that much for a dog. So, we both got a surprise!
Lucy was the gift that went on giving. She was fluffy, with spaniel like ears and a sweet face, and without coaxing she would flounce and dance whenever she wanted attention. She loved her treats and she loved me. All she wanted in her Doxie life was to be as close to me as possible, thereby often becoming shut in our bedroom because she would sneak in after me and I wouldn't realize she was there, leaving her inside when I left the room and shut the door behind me.
I miss her.
I have tried to write this several times and couldn't get past the first paragraph. Two autumns ago we had to put down our Bob because of back problems and last August I was with my daughter when she put down her Doxie, Arthur. After Bob died we got a puppy , a black & tan we named Larry. We got him partly because we didn't want Lucy to be alone it was obvious she had withdrawn and was depressed. Poor little Larry has had the huge responsibility of helping me through this. I wonder how much worse it would be without this peppy and persistent buddy here with me who insists that I stop moping and give him attention.
Somehow it would be wrong to not eulogize our special girl. And, most of you will understand because you have had such a love, also. I have come out of my blue funk enough to not dwell on those last few minutes, but instead think about my twirling, dancing princess dog that was my best Christmas present ever. I thank God for the eight wonderful years she was ours.
It was eleven o'clock that Monday morning when I noticed Lucy standing by our back door, wild-eyed and appearing to be choking. By the time I got to her and picked her up I realized she wasn't breathing. She was gone in less than three minutes.
Four weeks later my stomach still clinches and I tear up when I think of those last moments and my complete inability to help her. So, this is my belated "Ode to Lucy".
She was a long-haired Dachshund, black and tan, and only eight years old when we lost her. When she became part of our family we already had a short-haired black & tan at home named Bob. Ken and I had tickets to a charity auction that was being held a few weeks before Christmas. The minute we arrived at the event we noticed someone walking around the ballroom with a ten week old Doxie puppy, appropriately wrapped in a big red chenille blanket dressed in a red sweater, making sure everyone saw her. I overheard my husband, Ken, telling someone, "We have one like that at home and they are a wonderful pet. The last auction we were at one went for nine hundred dollars." That was a huge compliment to Bob because Ken has warmed up to our dogs slowly, finally allowing Bob to sleep with us. Of course, we petted and admired her, and I jokingly told him, "You'll be done with your Christmas shopping if you buy me that puppy."
Later, when the live auction was beginning, I took a seat with some women and Ken stood across the room with a group of men. When they brought Lucy out the woman next to me asked "Isn't that your husband bidding on the puppy?" I think I said, "Surely not." before turning to look. But, amazingly, there he was with his card in the air. The auctioneer announced, "Two fifty, do I hear two seventy five?" Someone else bid. "Three hundred, do I hear three hundred?" Ken's hand shot up again. "Three hundred, do I hear three fifty." He badgered the crowd for awhile more, but the bidding had stopped, probably due to everyone else at the auction having enough common sense to not want to train a puppy during the winter months.
Ken kept looking around the room, clearly wondering if anyone else was going to bid. But, the auctioneer called out, "SOLD to the man over there!", pointing at Ken. A moment later I was handed my new puppy who came with free vet visits for six months, a crate, and her red blanket. We drove home in semi-shock, neither of us given to that kind of spontaneity very often. I still believe Ken was trying to win points with me by bidding feeling pretty safe because he thought the bidding war would go to $900 like it did the last auction we attended. He could also be fairly confident that even I would not want to spend that much for a dog. So, we both got a surprise!
Lucy was the gift that went on giving. She was fluffy, with spaniel like ears and a sweet face, and without coaxing she would flounce and dance whenever she wanted attention. She loved her treats and she loved me. All she wanted in her Doxie life was to be as close to me as possible, thereby often becoming shut in our bedroom because she would sneak in after me and I wouldn't realize she was there, leaving her inside when I left the room and shut the door behind me.
I miss her.
I have tried to write this several times and couldn't get past the first paragraph. Two autumns ago we had to put down our Bob because of back problems and last August I was with my daughter when she put down her Doxie, Arthur. After Bob died we got a puppy , a black & tan we named Larry. We got him partly because we didn't want Lucy to be alone it was obvious she had withdrawn and was depressed. Poor little Larry has had the huge responsibility of helping me through this. I wonder how much worse it would be without this peppy and persistent buddy here with me who insists that I stop moping and give him attention.
Somehow it would be wrong to not eulogize our special girl. And, most of you will understand because you have had such a love, also. I have come out of my blue funk enough to not dwell on those last few minutes, but instead think about my twirling, dancing princess dog that was my best Christmas present ever. I thank God for the eight wonderful years she was ours.
Friday, January 11, 2013
Some thoughts on my book IMPLOSION...Free today
My book IMPLOSION is written in the genre of the Left Behind books by Tim LaHaye and Jerry Jenkins, only put in today's timeline. By definition Implosion is "the deliberate undermining of the foundation of a structure causing it to cave inward". The headlines are coming to life before our eyes warning us of a long-planned and predicted ending. The characters are rich and the book is compelling. By the end of my writing I felt as if I was moving away from good friends, I so loved each of them. If you click on the images of the book they will take you to Amazon for the Kindle download - it is also available in paperback. An FYI if you don't own a Kindle...you do not have to own one to have a Kindle account. I read my Kindle downloads on my iPhone and my laptop.)
The book is current, prophetic, and a warning for Christ's Body to "be ready"...for anything. I have learned that writing something that smacks of prophetic is a bit like walking the plank, but it's too late now. And, each day, when I listen to the news, I am aware that the timeline of what we each consider freedom to be is changing.
You will both laugh and cry, be angry, inspired, edified, and provoked...hopefully, some of the time at the edge of your seat wondering what happens next.
My first editor sucked so I got a couple of deserved reviews for that, although I defend myself to those who ask me why I didn't catch it by saying that while I am a writer, God made editors for the likes of me who must have some form of grammatical dyslexia. And, there are a couple of people who were angry at the very deliberate weaving of the prophetic into the book My bio, synopsis, and the other reviews all praise the book for its message, so take that into account reading them (I have to wonder why they would read it based on that which nullify's their comments). I do not make any attempt to hide that I write Christian fiction.*
The best gift you can give any author is to review their book. And, if you are a member of Goodreads, please do it there, also.
Optimist that I am the bright side of the last election (for me) is that it gave IMPLOSION a longer shelf life. We are rapidly being herded and propelled toward a less free and more regulated future. Whatever belief system one holds, that is a certainty!
*Note disclaimer!
The book is current, prophetic, and a warning for Christ's Body to "be ready"...for anything. I have learned that writing something that smacks of prophetic is a bit like walking the plank, but it's too late now. And, each day, when I listen to the news, I am aware that the timeline of what we each consider freedom to be is changing.
You will both laugh and cry, be angry, inspired, edified, and provoked...hopefully, some of the time at the edge of your seat wondering what happens next.
My first editor sucked so I got a couple of deserved reviews for that, although I defend myself to those who ask me why I didn't catch it by saying that while I am a writer, God made editors for the likes of me who must have some form of grammatical dyslexia. And, there are a couple of people who were angry at the very deliberate weaving of the prophetic into the book My bio, synopsis, and the other reviews all praise the book for its message, so take that into account reading them (I have to wonder why they would read it based on that which nullify's their comments). I do not make any attempt to hide that I write Christian fiction.*
The best gift you can give any author is to review their book. And, if you are a member of Goodreads, please do it there, also.
Optimist that I am the bright side of the last election (for me) is that it gave IMPLOSION a longer shelf life. We are rapidly being herded and propelled toward a less free and more regulated future. Whatever belief system one holds, that is a certainty!
*Note disclaimer!
Wednesday, January 9, 2013
Less is more...
It is a week into the New Year. I breathe a sigh of relief; the Christmas decorations are stashed, I've accumulated a box of no longer treasured momentoes to be dropped off at a thrift store, my "Thank You" notes are written...Yes, I am feeling pretty good about myself and then I step on the scale in the bathroom. "Yikes!" I exclaim as I jump off and back away .
It happens every year (those pesky pounds), but it still manages to come as a shock when I see them displayed in black and white. "Drat!" I mutter, glancing at the mirror and hoping it isn't watching. There is no denying that "Lumpy" is bad when found in a bed, in gravy, or on a body.
Quickly I move away from the mirror, deciding I would rather converse with myself than have the mirror bring it up, having some time ago realized it is no longer my friend when it became rather bold in it's asserting it's negative opinions about me in our chance meetings.
There was a time, in past years, when I made a long list of my "Resolutions", but that turned into one more thing that ultimately mocked me, since I failed at most of them.
I do believe in goal setting, and have had some success's with accomplishing them. But, the yearly charting of goals at the New Year, for me, is like being assigned a ghostly taskmaster to follow me around, assuring me I will be making most of them again in a year - having been unfulfilled. And, I have to give him credit - he's been right in his predictions much of the time. Of course, he is simply stating the obvious; emotionally driven goals are doomed to futility, opposite of goals that are rational, decidedly manageable, and can be willed into being after disciplines are established that will make them possible to attain.
So, I begin this year with just three resolutions. One is to reach higher in my spiritual life. The second is to make each day count. And, the third is to grab hold of the ideas that come to me; that I believe are the essential part of what makes the human animal unique and very special to our Maker.
Somehow, in the simplicity of less being more, I feel pretty optimistic about attaining more of the goals that used to comprise my long lists. And, my "Amen" to attaining success is when I remember that one of the Holy Spirit's names is "Helper". How wonderful to not have to do it alone!
It happens every year (those pesky pounds), but it still manages to come as a shock when I see them displayed in black and white. "Drat!" I mutter, glancing at the mirror and hoping it isn't watching. There is no denying that "Lumpy" is bad when found in a bed, in gravy, or on a body.
Quickly I move away from the mirror, deciding I would rather converse with myself than have the mirror bring it up, having some time ago realized it is no longer my friend when it became rather bold in it's asserting it's negative opinions about me in our chance meetings.
There was a time, in past years, when I made a long list of my "Resolutions", but that turned into one more thing that ultimately mocked me, since I failed at most of them.
I do believe in goal setting, and have had some success's with accomplishing them. But, the yearly charting of goals at the New Year, for me, is like being assigned a ghostly taskmaster to follow me around, assuring me I will be making most of them again in a year - having been unfulfilled. And, I have to give him credit - he's been right in his predictions much of the time. Of course, he is simply stating the obvious; emotionally driven goals are doomed to futility, opposite of goals that are rational, decidedly manageable, and can be willed into being after disciplines are established that will make them possible to attain.
So, I begin this year with just three resolutions. One is to reach higher in my spiritual life. The second is to make each day count. And, the third is to grab hold of the ideas that come to me; that I believe are the essential part of what makes the human animal unique and very special to our Maker.
Somehow, in the simplicity of less being more, I feel pretty optimistic about attaining more of the goals that used to comprise my long lists. And, my "Amen" to attaining success is when I remember that one of the Holy Spirit's names is "Helper". How wonderful to not have to do it alone!
Wednesday, January 2, 2013
A 'Barak' New Year
It seems so shallow to use the prefaces"Happy" and "Merry" as greetings during what are, for many, one of the most difficult seasons of the year.
Our constitution defines "Happy" as "the pursuit of happiness". Happy, by definition, means to feel "pleasure or contentment" or to have "a sense of confidence and/or satisfaction with a person, arrangement, or situation". It's synonyms are to be "glad, fortunate, joyful, lucky, merry, cheerful" - a tall order for those who are barely making it, uncertain of their futures, and accosted by uncertainty. In truth, while meant well, such greetings are nothing more, and another casualty of our culture, "Merry Christmas" has become, for many, a test to see who will say it back.
The Amplified Bible defines the word "blessed" as "happy, fortunate, and to be envied". The Hebrew word for blessed is 'Barak'. Jeff Penner, in Ancient Hebrew Word Meanings" describes the verb barak as "to bless as seen in Genesis 12:2 but can also mean kneel as seen in Gensis 24:11. A related Hebrew word is 'berakah' meaning a blessing, or a gift or present. From this we can see the concrete meaning behind 'barak' in the sense of a blessing. It is to bring a gift to another while kneeling out of respect. The entended meaning of this word is to do or give something of value to value to another. God blesses us by providing for our needs and we in turn are to 'Bless' God by giving him of ourselves as his servants."
The word 'entitlement' has bobbed to the top of 'hot' words this year; and, if one is looking for it, the effects of what it refers to are everywhere. The fact is that, as believers, we are the recipients of Grace, offered without cost or recrimination - and we are certainly not entitled to it. If we take the meaning of "barakah" literally, we are essentially 'kneeling' before Him when we 'kneel' before another and offer them the gift of His grace that we received when it was offered to us.
True Christlike humility becomes, in a sense, our posture when offering eternity in Heaven to another; and truly should bring us to our knees when we recall that "While we were yet sinners, Christ died for us". I wish you a "Barak New Year"!
Friday, December 28, 2012
Free today on Kindle: More than the Sum...a love story. Brittany's journey after divorce leads her through catastrophe to find the value of empathy, faith, and true love. Check out the reviews!
http://www.amazon.com/More-than-the-Sum-ebook/dp/B009R4ZIJS/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1356707561&sr=8-2&keywords=more+than+the+Sum
http://www.amazon.com/More-than-the-Sum-ebook/dp/B009R4ZIJS/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1356707561&sr=8-2&keywords=more+than+the+Sum
Friday, December 21, 2012
An angel visited Joseph; in a dream...
One interesting detail of Joseph of Nazareth's acceptance of his calling to rescue Mary and her unborn child is how God spoke to him. Both Zechariah and Mary were visited with a manifestation of an Angel who appeared to them...while they were awake. They actually conversed with him (Gabriel).But, not so with Joseph. Joseph was sleeping; a restless sleep, to be sure. He had just learned of the pregnancy of his betrothed and was pondering the ramifications - for him, for her, and for the community, once it became public.
That leads us to the unmistakable realization of how much God knew about Joseph's character and who he was. Joseph was visited by the angel in a dream, arose immediately, and rescued the girl - not on a white stallion, but took her away on a donkey. The obscured part of the story is pondering just exactly who he was and how, after over four hundred years of God remaining silent toward the Jews, that Joseph was in position to be chosen for the most important role in all of history.
Here is an excerpt from Joseph; the heart of the Father. While the book touches on the Christmas story, it is a much larger exploration of Joseph - the Messiah's adopted father.
Excerpt. Chapter two: A shaft of pure white light slanted across his slumped figure.shining down on him from a small window high in the wall opposite where he slept. When he awoke, the full realization of his years of searching the scriptures and crying out to God to speak to his people again became his new reality. The angel said, "Joseph, do not be afraid to take Mary to be your wife, for the child within her was conceived by the Holy Spirit. She shall have a son, and you are to name him Jesus, for he shall save his people from their sins."
The light continued streaming across the room, blanketing him with a peculiar sense of peace.
Every abstract though and pondering of his entire lifetime had crystallized, the words of the scriptures springing to life within him. Yes, God would visit his people. They would have their redeemer.
He must go to Mary and tell her everything was going to be all right. Mary was carrying Israel's hope within her. It was the will of Jehovah that Joseph be their protector.
Joseph; the heart of the Father is available in eBook, paperback, and audio through most internet booksellers. There are many reviews on Amazon, in particular. http://www.amazon.com/Joseph-The-Heart-Father-ebook/dp/B003CT4BKQ/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1356108434&sr=1-1&keywords=joseph+the+heart+of+the+father
That leads us to the unmistakable realization of how much God knew about Joseph's character and who he was. Joseph was visited by the angel in a dream, arose immediately, and rescued the girl - not on a white stallion, but took her away on a donkey. The obscured part of the story is pondering just exactly who he was and how, after over four hundred years of God remaining silent toward the Jews, that Joseph was in position to be chosen for the most important role in all of history.
Here is an excerpt from Joseph; the heart of the Father. While the book touches on the Christmas story, it is a much larger exploration of Joseph - the Messiah's adopted father.
Excerpt. Chapter two: A shaft of pure white light slanted across his slumped figure.shining down on him from a small window high in the wall opposite where he slept. When he awoke, the full realization of his years of searching the scriptures and crying out to God to speak to his people again became his new reality. The angel said, "Joseph, do not be afraid to take Mary to be your wife, for the child within her was conceived by the Holy Spirit. She shall have a son, and you are to name him Jesus, for he shall save his people from their sins."
The light continued streaming across the room, blanketing him with a peculiar sense of peace.
Every abstract though and pondering of his entire lifetime had crystallized, the words of the scriptures springing to life within him. Yes, God would visit his people. They would have their redeemer.
He must go to Mary and tell her everything was going to be all right. Mary was carrying Israel's hope within her. It was the will of Jehovah that Joseph be their protector.
Joseph; the heart of the Father is available in eBook, paperback, and audio through most internet booksellers. There are many reviews on Amazon, in particular. http://www.amazon.com/Joseph-The-Heart-Father-ebook/dp/B003CT4BKQ/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1356108434&sr=1-1&keywords=joseph+the+heart+of+the+father
Wednesday, December 19, 2012
The best gift...
I think my best gift as a little girl was my Tiny Tears doll. She was a rubber doll, her arms and legs moved, and she had a curly dark toupee glued to her head. And, she drank from a bottle and cried tiny tears from little tear ducts by her eyes when squeezed. Somehow she managed to survive my childhood and I gave her to our daughter, Melissa, who promptly soaked her head and her hair came off. Sadly, what made her unique was gone and she became 'just another doll', soon to be forgotten.
I often muse about what each of us have allowed to be discarded that made us unique and memorable. Life does shape us, alter us, and manipulate each of us to change from who we really are, and, often, we gradually morph into what someone else, or a lot of someone else's, want us to be.
I grew up on a small town (Peotone, Illinois), with a population was twelve hundred. I had grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins who all lived in close proximity, so I was blessed with a lot of affirmation. Well, except from one person. My mother. I now see how the withholding of affection and affirmation from her changed me.
Over the years we either morph into who we think others want us to be or we become defiant, acting out of what has hurt us. Some do both. Other's develop significant, often undiagnosed personality issues. Whether rejection is real, or perceived, it casts a huge shadow over us. And, if we continue to move through life acting out of something negative, we will pass the mantle on to the next in line.
My own story, while still evolving, is, by God's grace, to have chosen to not let those issues define me. The victim role is a tough one, and usually wears the people around us out. But, if given to God-really given to Him-He will restore you and use life's bitter pills by creating empathy.
The best gift, outside of finding Christ and His unconditional love for me, was to embrace empathy and the power it has, if used.
I have a granddaughter, Peyton, who was discovered to have cancer at age twelve. Peyton loved to dance, so that was the biggest heartbreak at the time, when she just didn't have the energy to do it anymore. She was strong in many ways, but wasted into a shadow of who she was before the cancer. And, of course, she lost all of her dark brown, straight hair. She is now seventeen, vibrant and full of life, dancing and defying gravity. And, her hair grew back. She is a beautiful brunette with a head full of curls; more beautiful for the testing. And, that reminds me of my Tiny Tears Doll, whose identity was in her tightly wound, glued on curls. Had I known then what I know now, and been a wiser mother, I would have made up a story, and made her a heroine of overcoming virtue.
The best gift we give ourselves is knowing who we are, accepting our humanity, and then offering others the value of YOU. Only you can do it!
I often muse about what each of us have allowed to be discarded that made us unique and memorable. Life does shape us, alter us, and manipulate each of us to change from who we really are, and, often, we gradually morph into what someone else, or a lot of someone else's, want us to be.
I grew up on a small town (Peotone, Illinois), with a population was twelve hundred. I had grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins who all lived in close proximity, so I was blessed with a lot of affirmation. Well, except from one person. My mother. I now see how the withholding of affection and affirmation from her changed me.
Over the years we either morph into who we think others want us to be or we become defiant, acting out of what has hurt us. Some do both. Other's develop significant, often undiagnosed personality issues. Whether rejection is real, or perceived, it casts a huge shadow over us. And, if we continue to move through life acting out of something negative, we will pass the mantle on to the next in line.
My own story, while still evolving, is, by God's grace, to have chosen to not let those issues define me. The victim role is a tough one, and usually wears the people around us out. But, if given to God-really given to Him-He will restore you and use life's bitter pills by creating empathy.
The best gift, outside of finding Christ and His unconditional love for me, was to embrace empathy and the power it has, if used.
I have a granddaughter, Peyton, who was discovered to have cancer at age twelve. Peyton loved to dance, so that was the biggest heartbreak at the time, when she just didn't have the energy to do it anymore. She was strong in many ways, but wasted into a shadow of who she was before the cancer. And, of course, she lost all of her dark brown, straight hair. She is now seventeen, vibrant and full of life, dancing and defying gravity. And, her hair grew back. She is a beautiful brunette with a head full of curls; more beautiful for the testing. And, that reminds me of my Tiny Tears Doll, whose identity was in her tightly wound, glued on curls. Had I known then what I know now, and been a wiser mother, I would have made up a story, and made her a heroine of overcoming virtue.
The best gift we give ourselves is knowing who we are, accepting our humanity, and then offering others the value of YOU. Only you can do it!
Tuesday, December 18, 2012
Dedicated to the children who died in Sandy Hook Elementary.
I'm dedicating this to the victims of the Sandy Hook Elementary sin Newtown, Connecticut shooting last Friday. God bless and keep each of the families.
Twas' eleven days before Christmas, around 9:38, when twenty beautiful children stormed through Heaven's gate.
Their smiles were contagious, their laughter filled the air. They could hardly believe all the beauty they saw there.
They were filled with such joy; they didn't know what to say.
They remembered nothing of what had happened earlier that day.
"Where are we?" asked a little girl, as quiet as a mouse.
"This is Heaven", declared a small boy. "We're spending Christmas in God's house!"
When what to their wondering eyes did appear, but Jesus, their Savior; the children gathered near.
He looked at them and smiled and called them by name. And, in that moment, was joy that only Heaven can bring.
He looked at them and smiled and they smiled just the same. Then he opened his arms and he called them by name.
And, in that moment was joy that only Heaven can bring. Those children all flew into the arms of their King, and as they lingered in the warmth of His embrace, one small girl turned and looked up at Jesus' face.
And, as if he could read all the questions she had, he gently whispered, "I'll take care of your Mom and Dad".
Then he looked down on earth, to the world far below and he saw all the hurt, the sorrow, and woe.
He closed His eyes and outstretched his hand, "Let my power and presence re-enter this land! May this country be delivered from the hands of the fools. I'm taking back my nation; I'm taking back my schools!"
Then he and the children stood up without making a sound. "Come now, my children, let me show you around."
Excitement filled the space; some skipped and some ran - all displaying enthusiasm only a small child can.
And, I heard him proclaim as he walked out of sight,
"In the midst of the darkness, I AM the Light."
Written by Cameo Smith.
Twas' eleven days before Christmas, around 9:38, when twenty beautiful children stormed through Heaven's gate.
Their smiles were contagious, their laughter filled the air. They could hardly believe all the beauty they saw there.
They were filled with such joy; they didn't know what to say.
They remembered nothing of what had happened earlier that day.
"Where are we?" asked a little girl, as quiet as a mouse.
"This is Heaven", declared a small boy. "We're spending Christmas in God's house!"
When what to their wondering eyes did appear, but Jesus, their Savior; the children gathered near.
He looked at them and smiled and called them by name. And, in that moment, was joy that only Heaven can bring.
He looked at them and smiled and they smiled just the same. Then he opened his arms and he called them by name.
And, in that moment was joy that only Heaven can bring. Those children all flew into the arms of their King, and as they lingered in the warmth of His embrace, one small girl turned and looked up at Jesus' face.
And, as if he could read all the questions she had, he gently whispered, "I'll take care of your Mom and Dad".
Then he looked down on earth, to the world far below and he saw all the hurt, the sorrow, and woe.
He closed His eyes and outstretched his hand, "Let my power and presence re-enter this land! May this country be delivered from the hands of the fools. I'm taking back my nation; I'm taking back my schools!"
Then he and the children stood up without making a sound. "Come now, my children, let me show you around."
Excitement filled the space; some skipped and some ran - all displaying enthusiasm only a small child can.
And, I heard him proclaim as he walked out of sight,
"In the midst of the darkness, I AM the Light."
Written by Cameo Smith.
Monday, December 17, 2012
A cry for help...
Today my blog will be brief other than to encourage you to read the accompanying link. It is sobering and breaks my heart for the moms, dads, siblings, and grandparents who must bear such a heavy load; heavier today because of what happened last Friday morinng in Connecticut. Our society, through church's, synagogues, and mental health facilities must come alongside families with assistance. Obviously, the stakes are very high. And, what this tragedy will do, will be to give the federal government more power to legislate and intrude.
Continuing to pray for the families directly affected by the terrible tragedy and for each of us to have new sensitivities for the issues at hand. God bless!
If the link isn't live, please copy and paste into your browser. And, if you want to make a comment (this is the comic relief for the day!) click on 'no comment' and it will take you to a comment box. I am getting a lot of comments (via email) that people want to make comments but have been unable, so that is the 'glitch' in the Blogspot Blogger!
http://gawker.com/5968818?utm_campaign=socialflow_gawker_facebook&utm_source=gawker_facebook&utm_medium=socialflow
Sunday, December 16, 2012
New 5* review on More than the Sum...
Fran Riedemann Books: New review on More than the Sum...: I'm sharing a new review for More than the Sum...so much fun to wake up to! And, so much fun to see someone else catch hold of the magic! Wh...
New review on More than the Sum...
I'm sharing a new review for More than the Sum...so much fun to wake up to! And, so much fun to see someone else catch hold of the magic! When I wrote the book I had no intention of it having a Christmas theme, although it begins and ends with the holiday. The rest of Brittany's year is the story...
Review:
5.0 out of 5.0 stars. Best Proposal Ever December 15, 2012
Format: Paperback
The worst Christmas of Brittany's life led to the best Christmas of her life!
Read how a fallen marriage can lead to a life of warmth, love, and new beginnings. How one with no hope can find hope in the true meaning of Christmas.
This is one of the best proposals I have ever heard of. Don't miss it!
Review:
5.0 out of 5.0 stars. Best Proposal Ever December 15, 2012
Format: Paperback
The worst Christmas of Brittany's life led to the best Christmas of her life!
Read how a fallen marriage can lead to a life of warmth, love, and new beginnings. How one with no hope can find hope in the true meaning of Christmas.
This is one of the best proposals I have ever heard of. Don't miss it!
Friday, December 14, 2012
One man, out of all time and space, was selected to raise the promised Emmanuel. Joseph of Nazareth, four hundred years after the last prophet spoke to his people, walked in righteousness before the Father.
Fran Riedemann Books: The tale of a Jewish daddy...: An excerpt from Joseph; the Heart of the Father: Many of his kinsmen no longer believed in the promise of a redeemer, but when Joseph recal...
Tuesday, December 11, 2012
Joseph - The heart of the Father
Joseph; the heart of the Father, excerpt from Chapter 4: Joseph remained uncomfortably slumped in the corner of the room holding his head in his hands. He pressed his temples with his fingertips, as if some miraculous discernment might be expressed.if he squeezed hard enough. Oh, Mary, Mary, what am I to do? What can I do? Oh, God, help me,
He realized it would be only a short time before someone would make it their business to inform the elders that Mary was with child. If the charge brought against her proved true, her fate would be determined according to Moses Law. The Law was clear. She would be stoned.Nothing like this had ever happened in Nazareth in Joseph's lifetime. Presuming they believed it was his child, he was as uncertain what might happen to him as well. Both of their lives, and futures, were inextricably damaged. He immediately reminded himself of the word of the Lord, My heart is confident in you, Oh, God. It seemed impossible, but he sensed God with him even in the midst of his despair.
Available through Amazon in eBook, Paperback, and audio.
He realized it would be only a short time before someone would make it their business to inform the elders that Mary was with child. If the charge brought against her proved true, her fate would be determined according to Moses Law. The Law was clear. She would be stoned.Nothing like this had ever happened in Nazareth in Joseph's lifetime. Presuming they believed it was his child, he was as uncertain what might happen to him as well. Both of their lives, and futures, were inextricably damaged. He immediately reminded himself of the word of the Lord, My heart is confident in you, Oh, God. It seemed impossible, but he sensed God with him even in the midst of his despair.
Available through Amazon in eBook, Paperback, and audio.
Monday, December 10, 2012
All I want for Christmas is you....
The Christmas song, All I want for Christmas is you, was just playing on the radio. What a wonderful thought that is...that there could be one special person who would be enough - totally enough - to make our holiday. Voila! Done! Our holiday is complete because that one special person fills our needs, our wants, and satisfies us enough that we need, or want, nothing else.
While the song's sentiment is sweet, it misses the mark because the Reason for the Season is often buried under so much tradition (Heaven forbid we add a new ingredient to Grandma's stuffing recipe), seeking to satisfy or be satisfied, or even the once a year compulsion to be charitable, that we, even while aware the holiday does exist because of the Reason, we let ourselves be sucked into the Wind Tunnel we call Christmas and be swept along in it.
It is important to remind ourselves that Christmas was not instituted by Jesus, so if we wanted it to be a purely secular part of our life, that wouldn't be a mortal sin. Perhaps the sin is to pretend he is front and center when he isn't.
I have always had a difficult time with singing "I surrender all" on command. Is that possible on a human level? Personally, I don't think so. What if it means we put our cell phones in a drawer, and check our Bibles during the day (or night) like we do our cell phones. Or, if it meant giving up Starbucks or our favorite TV fixes. Or shopping... Or, gossip... Or, that friend who affects us like a pretty pink drink with an umbrella in it.
All I want for Christmas...what do I want for Christmas? In actuality, I want to be gathered with family, a few special friends, and be allowed to be a little sad, remembering back to those who are no longer with us, and when I could say Merry Christmas without wondering if it might offend someone . I want to be aware of my blessings; so aware, in fact, that it humbles me. I want to give each of those I love a small piece of myself that far outshines any gift; something that is personal, deep, thought provoking, and kind; and I want them to always remember it, because the rest is temporal. And, that shining piece of me that I give away, may it be aglow because of the anointing of the Spirit who indwells me and knows that deep down all I really want is Him.
Jesus, I know even as I say it that in my humanity I will fail, but all I want for Christmas is You. And, because he is who he is, the blessings will come...
While the song's sentiment is sweet, it misses the mark because the Reason for the Season is often buried under so much tradition (Heaven forbid we add a new ingredient to Grandma's stuffing recipe), seeking to satisfy or be satisfied, or even the once a year compulsion to be charitable, that we, even while aware the holiday does exist because of the Reason, we let ourselves be sucked into the Wind Tunnel we call Christmas and be swept along in it.
It is important to remind ourselves that Christmas was not instituted by Jesus, so if we wanted it to be a purely secular part of our life, that wouldn't be a mortal sin. Perhaps the sin is to pretend he is front and center when he isn't.
I have always had a difficult time with singing "I surrender all" on command. Is that possible on a human level? Personally, I don't think so. What if it means we put our cell phones in a drawer, and check our Bibles during the day (or night) like we do our cell phones. Or, if it meant giving up Starbucks or our favorite TV fixes. Or shopping... Or, gossip... Or, that friend who affects us like a pretty pink drink with an umbrella in it.
All I want for Christmas...what do I want for Christmas? In actuality, I want to be gathered with family, a few special friends, and be allowed to be a little sad, remembering back to those who are no longer with us, and when I could say Merry Christmas without wondering if it might offend someone . I want to be aware of my blessings; so aware, in fact, that it humbles me. I want to give each of those I love a small piece of myself that far outshines any gift; something that is personal, deep, thought provoking, and kind; and I want them to always remember it, because the rest is temporal. And, that shining piece of me that I give away, may it be aglow because of the anointing of the Spirit who indwells me and knows that deep down all I really want is Him.
Jesus, I know even as I say it that in my humanity I will fail, but all I want for Christmas is You. And, because he is who he is, the blessings will come...
Friday, December 7, 2012
The Savior Came!
"Separation of church and state" has become a tired and misused mantra...well, unless, you're an attorney working in behalf of those who would silence the Christmas message across our land. Yes, I realize that December 25th is the wrong date, some of the traditions morphed from pagan rituals, people lose monetary sense of reason during the holidays, and there are mini-Grinch's lurking everywhere who will point out the obvious. But, in defense of the holiday, celebrated by Christians around the world, when else can you hear the message of a Savior born into human flesh, His coming heralded by angels, worshiped by shepherds and wise men alike, bedded in a barn, born to live in our human condition, die for it, and rise with 'healing in his wings' sung from every street corner, grocery store, market, and mall across the civilized world?
So, I'm a big girl, and I choose to not let the Grinch's steal my joy. Even if the Grinch's won, and took away the trees, and nativity scenes, the ringing bells, and even erase the "Merry" from "Merry Christmas", they won't silence me! He came, He conquered, He died. He is the King of Glory - the Lord strong and mighty - and the enemy wins if we let him get us off message. It isn't angels singing about the entrance of the Messiah into human history; it should be us!
The common men and women from all faiths benefit from this season of giving. Because of the Gift sent from Heaven the homeless and poor are visited, soldiers and prisoners receive gifts, cards & recognition, the plight of orphans and widows is felt by society, and turkey dinners are personally delivered to homes where the meal truly will be celebrated as a feast.
Of course, the takers are there, too...takers take. But, they can't steal my joy in giving. I'm no angel, but the angel tree helps me individually target special children that my husband and I can bless (and even dare to go over-budget in the blessing). And, I dare say, who, in the end, is more blessed?
So, let the Naysayers neigh (not a pretty sound, really).. It is a sad commentary on their souls - not our own. Put a dollar in the Salvation kettle (even if they got you last time), and celebrate why they are there and the great work of charity they do. The Reason for the Season is glorified every time we reach into our pockets.
The courts will be busy, and apparently the Grinch's have deep pockets themselves. Some judges will shake their heads in dismay while others side with them, legislating from the bench. It is a misuse, for sure. But, dear ones, then it is incumbent upon us to not be hidden under a bushel somewhere, but to let our light so shine that the world will know the Savior came, and that He came for all who will believe, and that He is going to return - and it could be soon. Spread the word. The Savior, Christ the Lord came, and He's coming again!
Maranatha and Merry Christmas.
So, I'm a big girl, and I choose to not let the Grinch's steal my joy. Even if the Grinch's won, and took away the trees, and nativity scenes, the ringing bells, and even erase the "Merry" from "Merry Christmas", they won't silence me! He came, He conquered, He died. He is the King of Glory - the Lord strong and mighty - and the enemy wins if we let him get us off message. It isn't angels singing about the entrance of the Messiah into human history; it should be us!
The common men and women from all faiths benefit from this season of giving. Because of the Gift sent from Heaven the homeless and poor are visited, soldiers and prisoners receive gifts, cards & recognition, the plight of orphans and widows is felt by society, and turkey dinners are personally delivered to homes where the meal truly will be celebrated as a feast.
Of course, the takers are there, too...takers take. But, they can't steal my joy in giving. I'm no angel, but the angel tree helps me individually target special children that my husband and I can bless (and even dare to go over-budget in the blessing). And, I dare say, who, in the end, is more blessed?
So, let the Naysayers neigh (not a pretty sound, really).. It is a sad commentary on their souls - not our own. Put a dollar in the Salvation kettle (even if they got you last time), and celebrate why they are there and the great work of charity they do. The Reason for the Season is glorified every time we reach into our pockets.
The courts will be busy, and apparently the Grinch's have deep pockets themselves. Some judges will shake their heads in dismay while others side with them, legislating from the bench. It is a misuse, for sure. But, dear ones, then it is incumbent upon us to not be hidden under a bushel somewhere, but to let our light so shine that the world will know the Savior came, and that He came for all who will believe, and that He is going to return - and it could be soon. Spread the word. The Savior, Christ the Lord came, and He's coming again!
Maranatha and Merry Christmas.
Thursday, December 6, 2012
The real Superhero
I used to tell people that my husband, Ken, believed in Santa Claus. We have grown children now, but throughout our married life I have done the shopping, and Ken (at the latest moment possible) buys for me. So, on Christmas morning, when our kids were small, he was as surprised as the kids where all the gifts came from. That may be a slight stretch, since if anything required assembling he had to do it, but to be a bystander during the busiest month of the year is certainly a privileged position. Our family has grown to 22 people and, even with help now, it is a daunting task to buy for everyone.
My daughter, Melissa, is an overachiever like her mom. She cooks and bakes, entertains, and buys and ships.One of her self-imposed traditions is to make her own Biscotti, along with a myriad of other Christmas cookies. While delicious, if you have never made Biscotti, the thing that adds to the 'incredibleness' of her making it at Christmastime is that it has to be baked twice. Her husband, Gary, is much like Ken (an observer) and scolds her because she stresses out. But, the truth of it is, the season is replete with overkill for most of us.
One Christmas holiday, when our youngest daughter was about nine, I was watching a Christmas broadcast. The minister had the nerve to announce that "Santa is a myth' in prime time. Emily was walking through the room about that time. She walked on, so I thought "Phew. She missed that.", but a few moments later she came back, stood in front of me, and asked, "Is that true?" I knew what she wanted, but said, "Is what true?" Emily - "What he said about Santa.; that he's a myth." My genius answer was, "Every culture has a different idea about Santa, and each one has a slightly different myth, but, yes, he's a myth." "Oh." she said and left the room. I decided to leave it there. When curious about something, Emily was not a child who left things alone.
The next day she bounced out of her bedroom, announcing, "There are only twelve more days until Santa comes." I waited for her to add a disclaimer, but none came. She simply wasn't ready to digest that Mom and Dad were Santa. And, for two more years, whether she did believe, or not, we played the game.
The child in all of us wants a Superhero. I think Santa is preferable to Spider-man or Spider-woman. The season's true meaning was never lost on us, and our children's ideas of God and the Savior he sent were not diminished by Santa. If anything, they were more diminished in seeing their spiritually flawed parents working out their salvation before their little eyes. The magic of Christmas is that most of us somehow seem less flawed in the midst of the nostalgia and fuss, generosity and giving, smells and songs, and festivity that surrounds us and remind us of family; and of one very special family in particular. God, who is not a myth, gave his precious Son a daddy and a mommy.
How amazing it is that, overall, it isn't Santa that offends the masses...the more of them the merrier. It is the picture of that particular mommy and daddy, kneeling before a manger, that creates the frenzy.
But, for one more year, the carols ring throughout the world, reminding mankind that the best gift came a long time ago. The real Superhero came as a baby and was laid in a manger. And, the mystery is, how some parents would rather their kids believed in Spiderman.
Tuesday, December 4, 2012
Not my day to be politically correct. :)
Fran Riedemann Books: Allergic to Peanuts...: I grew up with peanut butter; so did my husband, Ken. To this day, given a preference, Ken would turn down just about anything to enjoy a pe...
Allergic to Peanuts...
I grew up with peanut butter; so did my husband, Ken. To this day, given a preference, Ken would turn down just about anything to enjoy a peanut butter sandwich at lunch time. It is, in many ways, a comfort food for many.
The nut allergies are new. I don't know what alternative there is for a kid with allergies to a white bread sandwich, filled with ooooy goooey peanut butter, and a smear of grape jelly, but I hope they have one. A PB&J stands as a icon in its own right.
Back to the nut allergies. While I am sympathetic, it does make one wonder how those with the allergies (yes, I know it isn't the kids, but their over-zealous parents and attorneys) who have all but made it illegal to bring a PB&J sandwich onto a plane, or into a school? In the early years of flying, smokers were asked to sit at the back of the plane (which was ridiculous because smoke is pretty hard to contain). So, come on, at least section off a few rows of airplane seats or cafeteria tables, and give peanut lovers a break (or better put - TOLERATE US.)
This holiday there is a new allergic reaction to Peanuts, only it isn't the kind we eat, but rather the kind Charles Schultz made famous. An elementary school in Little Rock had the audacity to decide to do "Merry Christmas Charlie Brown" this Christmas. Now, there is irony in this if one really wants to look at it...first of all, the play contains Peanuts, a Christmas message (is it or is it not the season?), and of all things, the title itself shouts from the rooftops "Merry Christmas".
Well, not surprisingly, a few parents were aghast, and although the school gave a generous 'opt out' to anyone who didn't want their kids to be involved, taking their offense to the ACLU. (I'm allergic to the ACLU), who is taking this to the courts. So much for tolerance....
This is not my hill to die on, but I must say that if people who share my views don't begin to stand up and be counted, refuse to give up their PP&J sandwiches and peanuts on planes, and stand up to the bullies, there will be little left to celebrate.
Several years ago one of our granddaughters was in a reading contest in her school; it was this time of year. She read her little heart out, won the contest, and the 'prize' was to read any book of her choice to the entire first grade class. She chose a book about Christmas- how fitting!. Her teacher informed her that she couldn't read a book about Christmas, and, instead, had her read a book about Kwanzaa What a lesson in moving the target that was! Thankfully, it only made her stronger because her parents were wise enough to talk her through it and recreate the lesson positively.
This exercise has made me hungry for a peanut butter sandwich, but I don't have any Wonder Bread to put it on... But, less I digress, join me in the fight to keep our Christian heritage and traditions alive. After all, we live here, too! Let's cheer on Charlie Brown!
Wishing everyone a very blessed holiday of choice, and to you Christians out there...Merry Christmas to all!
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