|From the Editor -
||'Tis the Season
‘Tis the Season for Practical Jokes, Pranks and Paybacks! (Oh … and a little humor can be handy too!)
By Lynda Schab
"There's a spider crawling on your arm!"
Ah, I love that one. Who doesn't find it entertaining to watch someone dancing the jig with a look of frozen horror on her face, swatting at an imaginary spider?
I've been taken by that little trick several times and because of my admitted arachnophobia, the result has been anything but humorous at the time but becomes hilarious about ten minutes later – AFTER my breathing has returned to normal, my heart rate has slowed, and my hand stops brushing at my sleeve. That's when I think about what I must have looked like to the average bystander – and the image it brings throws me into fits of laughter.
My kids actually have a large plastic spider they love to scare me with, putting it on the floor or in my bed, or in the laundry pile, which really freaks me out. The funny thing is, even though I KNOW it's fake, I hesitate to touch it because, "what if it turns out to be real?" You never know. It does look pretty authentic. I shudder to think about that spider turning up on April Fool’s Day – and I know it will.
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‘Tis the season
to celebrate Spring,
Bursting with old
traditions and new miracles.
God’s Special Mushrooms
By Sandra Fischer
Most people in central Indiana herald spring’s arrival when crocuses burst through the soil and buds start peeking their heads out of cherry tree limbs. As a young girl, I learned that such signs were sometimes premature. Cold snaps would revisit between April showers causing early tulips to close their petals in tight protest. Many an Easter would find ladies attending church arrayed in peculiar contrast – winter coats and flowered bonnets. For me the most reliable sign that spring had arrived to stay was the day I would arrive home from school to find my mother standing on the front porch, waiting impatiently.
"Hurry up," she’d call, "Today promises to be good for us."
I would quickly change to my jeans, and hurry out to the old Chevy, its motor humming, mother at the wheel, ready to head to the woods for our first mushroom hunt.
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‘Tis the Season to celebrate National Poetry Month!
April is also Stress Awareness Month.
The following poem ties in nicely with both!
New Every Morning
By Lynne Gaunt
I yelled at my daughter again today.
I was so busy with laundry and chores.
Her toys were strewn about, right in my way,
Her clothes on the floor – not in drawers.
Then the woman who promised to help me
With my Sunday School class this week,
Called to tell me she just couldn’t get free.
My day really was looking bleak.
When I went to my car, to run to the store,
I found my rear tire was flat.
Frustration filled me, right to the core.
I was ready to blow – that was that!
My husband came home one hour late.
The chicken I grilled was now black!
The kids were grumpy, like lions in a crate.
When their Dad came, I cut him no slack.
I was glad when my family was finally in bed.
I was ashamed at my unplanned reactions
To the everyday troubles and roadblocks that fed
My anger and caused such distractions.
I had so much to do, was feeling such stress,
I’d forgotten my time with my Master.
Didn’t lay at his feet all I had to address.
My own efforts just led to disaster.
As I lay on my bed, moonlight streaming in
I finally gave it up to my Savior.
I felt he’d been waiting for me to give in,
To confess my shortfalls and behavior.
I drifted to sleep, feeling better by far
Than the rest of the day put together.
Although I had fallen so short of the bar,
Jesus’ love would not fail me – not ever!
When I woke in the morn, my outlook was brighter,
I would not live this day like the last.
God’s mercies were new, my burden was lighter.
In all trouble I would hold to him fast.
I rose from my bed, then got to my knees,
Bowed my head in humble submission.
"O Lord, help me honor your name, and please
Help me have a heart of contrition."
I opened my Bible, and began to read,
My Lord was so faithful to guide.
Now I was ready, naught else did I need,
I could stand strong against any tide.
Lynne Gaunt lives in the beautiful, but remote San Luis Valley of Southern Colorado, where the awesome creativity of God is evident outside every window. She lives with her husband of 17 years, and two teenaged daughters.