Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Church Picnic
Last Saturday, we had our annual church picnic. We ate hamburgers and hotdogs and any other food that was brought along. The kids had a lot of fun with their water sports. Then the annual singles vs. marrieds, men's and women's softball games were played. I think the single ladies won their game, and I know the married men won their's. The annual picnic is always a great time of fun, food and fellowship. Here are a few of the pictures I took for you to enjoy.
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Happy Birthday, Linda!
Happy Birthday to my "OLD" friend!! Don't you just love this picture of the two of us? It was taken about 1969 or 1970. Sure wish I was (almost) that skinny now!! LOL
Linda and I grew up together. We've known each other since my family moved to Fresno in 1955. We were both 2 years old, (although she IS OLDER than I)!!! We had the normal child-hood fusses, but quickly went back to being friends. Many a Sunday afternoon, either Linda was at my house, or I was at hers.
Linda...remember...??
Harvey and Thesta...
How we used to jump off of the cement blocks next to the steps?
How we could hear Don Deaver stomping his foot in the upstairs prayer room when we got to church?
Revival with Bro. Bean?...and how it changed our church for the better...forever?
Having Sunday School in the basement?
Having the "money hunt" and the "candy rains" for Sunday School?
Sis Betty Wally praying at the altar with us?
The ladies trio....Sis. Vance, Sis. Estes and Sis. Wally?
Bro. Layne saying "Echooooooes of Pentecoooost is oooooonnn the Aiiiiir!"? (I can still hear him.)
Then, the Echoes of Pentecost Choir singing "Great is the Lord" with Archie Gibson singing the lead?
"Joy Bells"...."Twelve Gates to the City"...?
My Dad taping services on his old reel to reel?
Arguing over who gets to "be" Sis. Lokey when we played church?
Sis. Taylor's fried pies?
You and I going to Sis. Taylor's after Sunday School and not taking a nap like we were supposed to?
Having church picnics and playing "Flying Dutchman"?
Your Grandma and Grandpa (Mom and Pop Layne) living next door to the church?
The way Pop's hands shook....but he never spilled a drop while pouring iced tea...?
The Young People signing a petition asking God to enlarge our Youth Group?
Moving to First and Holland?
God answering our prayer and enlarging our Youth Group by leaps and bounds?
Having to build a baptistry in the new sanctuary....and it leaking every time we used it? LOL
Playing soft ball on the grassy area...which is now parking lot?
Having Youth Bible studies and prayer meetings every Tuesday night?...and THEN we would play?
Building the new sanctuary...which is now the Prayer Room...?
How we all painted our initials on the dry wall...before it was stuccoed and painted?
Our Senior trips to Yosemite in the Sunday School bus.....(and I would always get motion sickness)? Hiking Vernal Falls....?
Our first cars....both Oldsmobiles????
You and I lying in the sun at Sis. Thornton's pool, comparing husbands-to-be...?
Youth Camp and Camp Meeting at Frasier Park...
Bro. Layne was Camp director (or something like that), and Pop Layne was the cook?
Youth Camp and Camp Meeting at Beulah Park, Santa Cruz?
The Santa Cruz board walk?
Keith driving us to Youth Camp....Santa Cruz...in his car?
Randy Theissen's Camaro? Dave and Jan Grider's parents' convertible Cadillac? Steve Walker's Carmen Ghia?
Oh, my!!! What memories we have, and these are just a few. I wish we lived closer to each other, so we could continue making memories.
HAPPY 55TH BIRTHDAY, MY LONG-TIME FRIEND!! LOVE YOU BUNCHES
Saturday, May 10, 2008
Happy Mother's Day
A good friend emailed this to me. It is a little long, but it it beautiful, and well worth the read. You mothers with young children at home, don't forget...God sees...
I'm Invisible
It all began to make sense, the blank stares, the lack of response, the way one of the kids will walk into the room while I'm on the phone and ask to be taken to the store. Inside I'm thinking, "Can't you see I'm on the phone?"
Obviously not. No one can see if I'm on the phone, or cooking, or sweeping the floor, or even standing on my head in the corner, because no one can see me at all.
I'm invisible.
Some days I am only a pair of hands, nothing more: Can you fix this? Can you tie this? Can you open this? Some days I'm not a pair of hands; I'm not even a human being. I'm a clock to ask, "What time is it?" I'm a detective to answer, "Where is the peanut butter,...or phone...or my jacket...?" I'm a car to order, "Right around 5:30, please."
I was certain that these were the hands that once held books and the eyes that studied history and the mind that graduated cum laude - but now they had disappeared into the peanut butter, never to be seen again. She's going, she's going, she's gone!
One night, a group of us were having dinner, celebrating the return of a friend from England. Janice had just gotten back from a fabulous trip, and she was going on and on about the hotel she stayed in. I was sitting there, looking around at the others all put together so well. It was hard not to compare and feel sorry for myself as I looked down at my out-of-style dress; it was the only thing I could find that was clean. My unwashed hair was pulled up in a clip and I was afraid I could actually smell peanut butter in it.
I was feeling pretty pathetic, when Janice turned to me with a beautifully wrapped package, and said, "I brought you this." It was a book on the great cathedrals of Europe. I wasn't exactly sure why she'd given it to me until I read her inscription: "To Charlotte, with admiration for the greatness of what you are building when no one sees."
In the days ahead I would read - no, devour - the book. And I would discover what would become for me, four life-changing truths, after which I could pattern my work:
* No one can say who built the great cathedrals - we have no record of their names.
* These builders gave their whole lives for a work they would never see finished.
* They made great sacrifices and expected no credit.
* The passion of their building was fueled by their faith that the eyes of God saw everything.
A legendary story in the book told of a rich man who came to visit the cathedral while it was being built, and he saw a workman carving a tiny bird on the inside of a beam. He was puzzled and asked the man, "Why are you spending so much time carving that bird into a beam that will be covered by the roof? No one will ever see it." And the workman replied, "Because God sees."
I closed the book, feeling the missing piece fall into place. It was almost as if I heard God whispering to me, "I see you, Charlotte. I see the sacrifices you make every day, even when no one around you does. No act of kindness you've done, no sequin you've s sewn on, no cupcake you've baked is too small for me to notice and smile over. You are building a great cathedral, but you can't see right now what it will become."
At times, my invisibility feels like an affliction. But it is not a disease that is erasing my life. It is the cure for the disease of my own self-centeredness. It is the antidote to my strong, stubborn pride. I keep the right perspective when I see myself as a great builder. As one of the people who show up at a job that they will never see finished, to work on something that their name will never be on. The writer of the book went so far as to say that no cathedrals could ever be built in our lifetime because there are so few people willing to sacrifice to that degree.
When I really think about it, I don't want my son to tell the friend he's bringing home from college for Thanksgiving, "My mom gets up at 4 in the morning and bakes homemade pies, and then she hand bastes a turkey for three hours and presses s all the linens for the table." That would mean I'd built a shrine or a monument to myself. I just want him to want to come home. And then, if there is anything more to say to his friend, to add, "You're gonna love it there."
As mothers, we are building great cathedrals. We cannot be seen if we're doing it right. And one day, it is very possible that the world will marvel, not only at what we have built, but at the beauty that has been added to the world by the sacrifices of invisible women.
Happy Mother's Day to all.....
I'm Invisible
It all began to make sense, the blank stares, the lack of response, the way one of the kids will walk into the room while I'm on the phone and ask to be taken to the store. Inside I'm thinking, "Can't you see I'm on the phone?"
Obviously not. No one can see if I'm on the phone, or cooking, or sweeping the floor, or even standing on my head in the corner, because no one can see me at all.
I'm invisible.
Some days I am only a pair of hands, nothing more: Can you fix this? Can you tie this? Can you open this? Some days I'm not a pair of hands; I'm not even a human being. I'm a clock to ask, "What time is it?" I'm a detective to answer, "Where is the peanut butter,...or phone...or my jacket...?" I'm a car to order, "Right around 5:30, please."
I was certain that these were the hands that once held books and the eyes that studied history and the mind that graduated cum laude - but now they had disappeared into the peanut butter, never to be seen again. She's going, she's going, she's gone!
One night, a group of us were having dinner, celebrating the return of a friend from England. Janice had just gotten back from a fabulous trip, and she was going on and on about the hotel she stayed in. I was sitting there, looking around at the others all put together so well. It was hard not to compare and feel sorry for myself as I looked down at my out-of-style dress; it was the only thing I could find that was clean. My unwashed hair was pulled up in a clip and I was afraid I could actually smell peanut butter in it.
I was feeling pretty pathetic, when Janice turned to me with a beautifully wrapped package, and said, "I brought you this." It was a book on the great cathedrals of Europe. I wasn't exactly sure why she'd given it to me until I read her inscription: "To Charlotte, with admiration for the greatness of what you are building when no one sees."
In the days ahead I would read - no, devour - the book. And I would discover what would become for me, four life-changing truths, after which I could pattern my work:
* No one can say who built the great cathedrals - we have no record of their names.
* These builders gave their whole lives for a work they would never see finished.
* They made great sacrifices and expected no credit.
* The passion of their building was fueled by their faith that the eyes of God saw everything.
A legendary story in the book told of a rich man who came to visit the cathedral while it was being built, and he saw a workman carving a tiny bird on the inside of a beam. He was puzzled and asked the man, "Why are you spending so much time carving that bird into a beam that will be covered by the roof? No one will ever see it." And the workman replied, "Because God sees."
I closed the book, feeling the missing piece fall into place. It was almost as if I heard God whispering to me, "I see you, Charlotte. I see the sacrifices you make every day, even when no one around you does. No act of kindness you've done, no sequin you've s sewn on, no cupcake you've baked is too small for me to notice and smile over. You are building a great cathedral, but you can't see right now what it will become."
At times, my invisibility feels like an affliction. But it is not a disease that is erasing my life. It is the cure for the disease of my own self-centeredness. It is the antidote to my strong, stubborn pride. I keep the right perspective when I see myself as a great builder. As one of the people who show up at a job that they will never see finished, to work on something that their name will never be on. The writer of the book went so far as to say that no cathedrals could ever be built in our lifetime because there are so few people willing to sacrifice to that degree.
When I really think about it, I don't want my son to tell the friend he's bringing home from college for Thanksgiving, "My mom gets up at 4 in the morning and bakes homemade pies, and then she hand bastes a turkey for three hours and presses s all the linens for the table." That would mean I'd built a shrine or a monument to myself. I just want him to want to come home. And then, if there is anything more to say to his friend, to add, "You're gonna love it there."
As mothers, we are building great cathedrals. We cannot be seen if we're doing it right. And one day, it is very possible that the world will marvel, not only at what we have built, but at the beauty that has been added to the world by the sacrifices of invisible women.
Happy Mother's Day to all.....
Friday, May 2, 2008
The Garbage Truck
One day I hopped in a taxi and we took off for the airport.
We were driving in the right lane when suddenly a black car jumped out of a parking space right in front of us. My taxi driver slammed on his brakes, skidded, and missed the other car by just inches! The driver of the other car whipped his head around and started yelling at us. My taxi driver just smiled and waved at the guy. And I mean, he was really friendly.
So I asked, 'Why did you just do that? This guy almost ruined your car and sent us to the hospital!'
This is when my taxi driver taught me what I now call, 'The Law of the Garbage Truck.'
He explained that many people are like garbage trucks. They run around full of garbage, full of frustration, full of anger, and full of disappointment. As their garbage piles up, they need a place to dump it and sometimes they'll dump it on you. Don't take it personally. Just smile, wave, wish them well, and move on. Don't take their garbage and spread it to other people at work, at home, or on the streets.
The bottom line is that successful people do not let garbage trucks take over their day. Life's too short to wake up in the morning with regrets, so..... 'Love the people who treat you right. Pray for the ones who don't.'
Life is ten percent what you make it and ninety percent how you take it!
We were driving in the right lane when suddenly a black car jumped out of a parking space right in front of us. My taxi driver slammed on his brakes, skidded, and missed the other car by just inches! The driver of the other car whipped his head around and started yelling at us. My taxi driver just smiled and waved at the guy. And I mean, he was really friendly.
So I asked, 'Why did you just do that? This guy almost ruined your car and sent us to the hospital!'
This is when my taxi driver taught me what I now call, 'The Law of the Garbage Truck.'
He explained that many people are like garbage trucks. They run around full of garbage, full of frustration, full of anger, and full of disappointment. As their garbage piles up, they need a place to dump it and sometimes they'll dump it on you. Don't take it personally. Just smile, wave, wish them well, and move on. Don't take their garbage and spread it to other people at work, at home, or on the streets.
The bottom line is that successful people do not let garbage trucks take over their day. Life's too short to wake up in the morning with regrets, so..... 'Love the people who treat you right. Pray for the ones who don't.'
Life is ten percent what you make it and ninety percent how you take it!
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